The Dark One had tried to destroy every magical artifact he could not corrupt. In large part, he had succeeded. Magic was already unthinkably rare. Nearly no humans were born with the ability, most who whiled it were actually drawing on the power of an item.
No one knows where The Dark One came from. Some don’t even believe it to have been this dimension. He held unimaginable power, and endless source of wicked magic.
He could bestow fractions of his power onto others, or into items, and feel no exhaustion. He used his talents to warp the very reality around him. Turning a desolate old farm into a mighty fortress that floated hundreds of feet up in the sky. Turning hunting dogs into great beasts, twisted monsters that would patrol its borders. No one came or went without his say.
The mightiest among his inner circle were his prized assassins. To the world they were fearsome monsters. Hated by the land equally as their master.
To The Dark One, they were his favorite toys.
He’d collected the five killers over his centuries of rule. Each one kept alive, eternally young, sustained and empowered by his magic. Made completely obedient by an enchanted collar around their necks.
He deliberately allowed them to keep their thoughts so that they could be aware as they did his bidding, and as he tortured them. They held no authority in his court, and had no autonomy under his oppressive hand. And yet, the world did not know that. It hated them. He would parade them around in expensive silks, drag them to lavish banquets while all who did not bow to him starved. Not knowing that behind closed doors they’d face the worst of his cruelty.
They could not even understand why he did it. None had committed offenses as great as people he’d outright killed, as opposed to eternal pain. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of poor saps who would do anything do have magical powers bestowed on them. Who would serve him eternally loyal. But he didn’t want them. He wanted to break the five over, and over again.
Their names have been lost, even to themselves. Beaten out of them on a cell floor.
He calls them his Pride and has bestowed each one with a special, albeit unwanted, gift.
Panther is a tall man with broad shoulders and long black hair. He has tan, olive skin. His eyes have become slitted and yellow from exposure to The Dark One’s magic. He wears little in the way of armor, for his gift is strength of mussel and skin. Although he is not invulnerable, many have mistaken him for such. Blades do not cut him, arrows do little more than scratch.
He was the first. Taken out of a work camp as a young man. He’d done no wrong, caused no trouble. And yet he was brought before the throne and collared like a stray.
Lioness is a beautiful woman. Sandy blonde curls and green eyes. Freckles dotting every inch of her skin. He loves her warm smile, and the way it twists when she’s in agony. He found her in a temple, a handmaiden to the priestess for a goddess he’s long since cast into obscurity. He slaughtered her companions and marched her behind his carriage the entire trek back to his keep. Given her upbringing around faith, he made her into his seer. Able to view events happening at that moment no matter how far away.
Tigress is a battle scarred warrior. Every inch of her body is covered in marks, many of which he gave to her himself. When he met her she had choppy mouse brown hair and a painfully average face. But he thought that was too plain for his wonderful Tiger. He’s changed her features slowly over the decades. She no longer recognizes her own image. Having sharp, memorable profile and distinctive red hair down to her feet.
Tigress was a gladiator in one of The Dark One’s fighting pits. He loved to watch her battle. She had a fire in her. A violent hunger to survive. Many a time he saved her from execution after she spat at her jailers, or mouthed off to the crowd. For his feisty fighter he gave he a gift of incredible speed.
Lynx was a house servant in the manor. He looked a little younger than he was. Short and scrawny with a baby face. One of hundreds. He was not notable in any way. He did not step out of line or kiss the boots of his master. He was quiet. No one paid him any mind. He did he work and went back to his quarters. He still to this day has no idea what The Dark One wanted him for. Why it was so important that *he* became a killer.
For a nobody, Lynx was given the power to turn invisible at will.
The only member of the Pride who knew exactly why they’d been targeted would be Snow Leopard. Often called Snow. He was captured with a rebel party trying to set up a camp not far from one of The Dark One’s important supply lines. He kicked and spat and refused to bow before the throne.
Although he now forcibly obeys The Dark One, he is by far the most angry at his position. While the others have, in some ways, become resigned to their fates Snow is deeply resentful. He takes every opportunity to be defiant, sparring himself and the others no pain if it means he gets a shot off at their captor. For his gift, he was given the ability to transform into both a ferocious beast, and a harmless kitten.
