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== Physical Appearance == |
== Physical Appearance == |
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Before their ascension, Nyr was a blue Tiefling with short curly blue hair and short horns. They had gleaming golden eyes with deep bags under them from months of being overworked. They wear infernal office workers cloths over infernal chainmail, his cloths stained with ash and reeking of cigarette smoke. It is rare that he is ever seen without a cigarette in his hands. |
Before their ascension, Nyr was a blue Tiefling with short curly blue hair and short horns, with the left horn cut in half after a childhood accident. They had gleaming golden eyes with deep bags under them from months of being overworked. They wear basic utilitarian infernal office workers cloths over infernal chainmail, his cloths stained with ash and reeking of cigarette smoke. It is rare that he is ever seen without a cigarette in his hands. |
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After ascending to becoming an archdevil, their infernal features become more prominent, and he swapped out his drab office uniform for gaudy and expensive robes, though they still smelled of cigarettes. |
After ascending to becoming an archdevil, their infernal features become more prominent, and he swapped out his drab office uniform for gaudy and expensive robes, though they still smelled of cigarettes. |
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== History == |
== History == |
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Every member of society has a role to play. My parents were assistants to the regional torturer. My father's parents were missionaries to the material plane, preaching the Bad Word and spreading greed and lust. My mother's parents were also assistants to the regional torturer, which is how my mom got her job and eventually my dad. I know I have a role to play. I thought that role was assisting the regional torturer, but it was so boring. Sure, the first time you see someone's intestines pulled out of their urethra it's almost a religious experience. The euphoria at knowing you've helped make those screams seems like it will last forever. But then you've got to do paperwork. Oh my fucking god, the paperwork. But paperwork keeps everything orderly. How can you keep track of who has been tortured, who needs to be tortured, and what torture supplies you're running low on etc without paperwork? Then you find out that you can't use the 28 gauge wire anymore but instead you've got to use the 14 gauge, which even with a healthy dose of lubricant is really difficult to get into the hole, and not because leadership thinks the extra pain is worth the effort but because some fucking asshole sales rep convinced the inventory manager--who's never done a day of torture in his life--that we'd be fools to not use the 14 gauge. And no matter how many torture experts tell fucking Tisamon the fucking inventory manager that 14 is no good, he's dead set on it, and he's got leadership's ear. Rinse and repeat for a few years. Scream. Paperwork. Politics. Scream. Paperwork. Politics. Scream.Paperwork.Politics. Scrapertics. You get the idea. Eventually the screams seem somehow less. And you may keep at it for a while, because hey, a screams a scream, and you're doing your part to keep society going. But after a few years...after a few years you dread getting out of bed because you already know who's going to scream when and how and then you're still going to have to do the paperwork. |
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A brief history of your character's life. |
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I applied to a new position to study the abyss. The abyss is supposedly devoid of order, but that can't be true. There's order everywhere, otherwise none of this shit would make sense. Hell, there's even an order to Tisamon the fucking inventory manager and his 14 gauge wire, it's just an uninspired and old order. There's got to be order to the abyss, but folks on this side of the styx are too stuck in their ways to see it. I've always wanted to be the one to prove it's there, so I know I should be excited that I got the job. But it's just so damn hard to care about anything anymore. |
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== Languages == |
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Examples include Common, Elvish, TwitchTalk, Thieves Cant, or French |
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But after months of working in [[Dispater|Dispater's]] Office of Abyssal Observance, they shut the office down! Then when i didn't think things could get worse, Dispater's brute of a son, [[Balgoor]], busted in with his thugs, announcing they they would be engaging in "hostile restructuring." Those that weren't killed outright were filed away in Dispater's private collection. Apparently the Abyss vanished? I fear I would have been killed to, but then I was saved by an [[angel]]... |
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You don't have to give it all away. Just let us know what you're known to do in battle. |
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'''Read [[The Paragon Protocol#The Story So Far|The Story of the Paragon Protocol]] to follow Nyrgoth's story.''' |
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== Attacks and Weapons == |
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Your favorite weapons. |
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Armed with clerical abilities drawn from the Hells themself, Nyrgoth had the powers of the Hells at his fingertips, able to heal and harm alike. His most frequent spell was Spiritual Weapon, where he would summon a massive spectral cigarette. |
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== Relationships == |
== Relationships == |
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Revision as of 00:36, 23 April 2026
| Relatives | Adrian (Mother), Nero (Father), Stenwald (Cousin) |
|---|---|
| Languages | Abyssal, Common, Infernal |
| Affiliations | The Hellraisers, The Ten Hells |
| Aliases | The Lord of Dis |
| Marital Status | Dating |
| Place of Birth | Dis |
| Species | Tiefling (Former), Archdevil (Current) |
| Gender | Male |
| Eye Color | Gold |
Nyrgoth (or just Nyr) is a Tiefling Cleric and later the Archdevil ruler of the Second Layer of the Ten Hells, Dis.
Physical Appearance
Before their ascension, Nyr was a blue Tiefling with short curly blue hair and short horns, with the left horn cut in half after a childhood accident. They had gleaming golden eyes with deep bags under them from months of being overworked. They wear basic utilitarian infernal office workers cloths over infernal chainmail, his cloths stained with ash and reeking of cigarette smoke. It is rare that he is ever seen without a cigarette in his hands.
After ascending to becoming an archdevil, their infernal features become more prominent, and he swapped out his drab office uniform for gaudy and expensive robes, though they still smelled of cigarettes.
Personality
Is your character social? A drunk? Laid back?
History
Every member of society has a role to play. My parents were assistants to the regional torturer. My father's parents were missionaries to the material plane, preaching the Bad Word and spreading greed and lust. My mother's parents were also assistants to the regional torturer, which is how my mom got her job and eventually my dad. I know I have a role to play. I thought that role was assisting the regional torturer, but it was so boring. Sure, the first time you see someone's intestines pulled out of their urethra it's almost a religious experience. The euphoria at knowing you've helped make those screams seems like it will last forever. But then you've got to do paperwork. Oh my fucking god, the paperwork. But paperwork keeps everything orderly. How can you keep track of who has been tortured, who needs to be tortured, and what torture supplies you're running low on etc without paperwork? Then you find out that you can't use the 28 gauge wire anymore but instead you've got to use the 14 gauge, which even with a healthy dose of lubricant is really difficult to get into the hole, and not because leadership thinks the extra pain is worth the effort but because some fucking asshole sales rep convinced the inventory manager--who's never done a day of torture in his life--that we'd be fools to not use the 14 gauge. And no matter how many torture experts tell fucking Tisamon the fucking inventory manager that 14 is no good, he's dead set on it, and he's got leadership's ear. Rinse and repeat for a few years. Scream. Paperwork. Politics. Scream. Paperwork. Politics. Scream.Paperwork.Politics. Scrapertics. You get the idea. Eventually the screams seem somehow less. And you may keep at it for a while, because hey, a screams a scream, and you're doing your part to keep society going. But after a few years...after a few years you dread getting out of bed because you already know who's going to scream when and how and then you're still going to have to do the paperwork.
I applied to a new position to study the abyss. The abyss is supposedly devoid of order, but that can't be true. There's order everywhere, otherwise none of this shit would make sense. Hell, there's even an order to Tisamon the fucking inventory manager and his 14 gauge wire, it's just an uninspired and old order. There's got to be order to the abyss, but folks on this side of the styx are too stuck in their ways to see it. I've always wanted to be the one to prove it's there, so I know I should be excited that I got the job. But it's just so damn hard to care about anything anymore.
But after months of working in Dispater's Office of Abyssal Observance, they shut the office down! Then when i didn't think things could get worse, Dispater's brute of a son, Balgoor, busted in with his thugs, announcing they they would be engaging in "hostile restructuring." Those that weren't killed outright were filed away in Dispater's private collection. Apparently the Abyss vanished? I fear I would have been killed to, but then I was saved by an angel...
Read The Story of the Paragon Protocol to follow Nyrgoth's story.
Powers and Abilities
Armed with clerical abilities drawn from the Hells themself, Nyrgoth had the powers of the Hells at his fingertips, able to heal and harm alike. His most frequent spell was Spiritual Weapon, where he would summon a massive spectral cigarette.