Use DBH Layout v1

Character Info

Name: Torment
Class: Barbarian
Weapon: Double-Bladed Waraxe - "Pain"
Race: Undead Human
Quote: "FeeL THe PaiN!"


History: His end of training was coming close. Since his tenth birthday, Torment had been educated by the famous Dark-Elf, Nailith. The Elf's job was mainly to teach him the barbarian profession, as all in his family had been taught. At this time, Torment had increased into one gaint, hulking muscle ball. The countless times Nailith had tried to teach the strong fighter magic in the eight passed years, had never worked. It just seemed as if he didn't had the right blood inside him. Which wasn't that suprising though, they lived in Kenaz, one of the biggest towns of the Barbarian Highlands. Nailith was no barbarian, since he was a skilled master in both fighting and magic, which was not natural for barbarians. The Dark Elf tried Torment out though, to see if he really couldn't get any little piece of magical energy out of him, and he had always failed. When Torment woke up that morning, he heard shouting. Dressing and looking outside from out of his window, he saw several of his kind chasing a small, green creature. The look on their faces showed they obviously had fun. The group was following a goblin, an irritating, puny beast from the wilderness. Torment had slayed thousands of them. They were no challenge to him. Lately nothing was, anyway. His enormous strength and battle arts had never failed him, almost all of his opponents usually couldn't even hit him. Torment was tall, though, and couldn't make slim moves like those small goblins. He didn't need to. His huge axe, which he kept tied behind his back, was large and heavy. Not to forget to mention, it was sharp. He had only need to heave it and most enemies would panic and flee. Only foolish creatures wouldn't. The axe was forged many, many years ago, by his great grandfather. The barbarians in those times used to live in harmony with dwarves, which they still do, but in this era they don't live in the same areas anymore. In history they did, and cooperated alot. The object was a fine piece of metal, made by the best dwarven smiths in those times, as a gift to Torment's family. It was time to pay Nailith a little visit. He made his way downstairs, then went through the web-covered front door and marched on the road towards his destination. This was probably going to be his last training day. He was excited, but also a bit of nervous. When barbarians were to have their education completed, they needed to complete a certain ritual. Nailith was one of the instructors known to give very difficult tasks his students need to complete in order to gain the rank as true a barbarian. The trainer stood outside on the dirt street, watching his fresh, young pupil approach. "Greetings," the man said. "I bid you welcome inside, Torment. It is time." Without any further delay Torment followed the ancient Elf inside his home. "As you know, a sanctuary ritual is to be performed in order to gain the title Barbarian," the Dark-Elf waved his arm towards a chair, signaling Torment to sit down. Torment did as what was expected of him. "You and four others from Kenaz will go outside to get rid of the Orc village in the outer bounds. You know where it is, right?" Torment nodded. "Good. I expect of you to survive. This evening you shall meet the other contenders and myself at the water put. Until then, my pupil." He waved his arms towards the door, dismissing Torment. Nailith had always been a good trainer and friend to him the eight years he had lived with him, but Nailith had to keep things still a bit formal. Torment left, smiling at his old, experienced friend. He went home to mentally prepare himself. Later that day, he arrived at the meeting point. His compagnions of today's march were already there. He greeted them, and his instructor which arrived a second later. "Good luck, gentlemen. And remember: Never underestimate your enemy!" When Nailith had spoken the last words, the party was on their way. After a walk of an hour they arrived Orc ground. From living grass the ground changed into mud, the sky went vaguely gray and the warriors began to settle themselves for battle. "This is it," Torment whispered. His voice suddenly changed, and he buldered out: "Attack!". The five Barbarians-to be ran towards the buildings which formed the Orc village. Several Orcs, a type of oversized goblins and a bit stronger, suddenly appeared from their sides. A sword cut right through one of the men's helmet, causing him to scream in agony. Blood filled the dirty ground, and brains were seen on the tip of the sword which had made it's way right through the skull. Another barbarian had a pike in his heart, causing black blood to escape from his mortal wound. The two men were brutally slaughtered, leaving only Torment and two others. While throwing his weight to his axe-arm he smashed the weapon into one of the Orcs' shoulders, leaving him fallen to the ground. But the Orcs were outnumbering them. More and more arrived, and the other two barbarians were soon death. Torment was the only one of the party to still stand, and he striked and slinged his axe all ways. But it was not enough. Some Orcs grabbed his arms, others grabbed his legs and a few others striked him on the head with a blunt weapon, Torment could not tell what it exactly was, but he fainted out. When he woke up, he smelled something rotting, and his head ached. Looking tiredly around, he examined the room and noticed he was sitting against a wall, arms chained above him. He tried to break loose of them, but the chains wouldn't budge. After at least half a year Torment had finally found the way. He could easily escape. He felt so dumb, not thinking of this solution ever before! He sneaked away when he had his arms free, and knocked one of the Orc guards on the head. Quickly he retrieved his axe which had lain on the ground there for so many time that it was completely covered in dust. He made his way to the exit and ran as quick as he could towards his village. He had so much to tell Nailith. The Orcs had feed and drank him everyday, and they had even tried to get him to their side. That didn't really works though, but they had never really harmed him a lot. Torment had enough guts to withstand their lousy strikes. He saw Kenaz in the distance, buildings getting bigger and bigger. For some reason it didn't feel good. Something was amiss. When he approached further, he knew: Kenaz had been flamed! His home city had gone totally up in ashes, buildings seeing purely black. This couldn't be true. He started to flee this scene, wandering around in the nearby forests. What could have happened in such a small nick of time? He had only been away for maybe half a year, and there were enough strong barbarians to defend the city. Suddenly a voice from the trees made him wince. "Torment, I thought you were death!" Nailith stepped out of the thick bushes, showing himself in half-burned clothes. "What has happened, Nailith! I demand an explanation for this wickedness!" The Dark-Elf explained. A mage called Exessum had visited the town, and he was powerful. Since men didn't want to help him with certain very diguistable things, he had become angry and decided to torch the place. Torment was filled with hate, and a red glow appeared in his eyes. He had to kill, he had to avenge the death of his family and friends. And so it was that Torment and Nailith had traveled miles and miles to find Exessum, only hearing rumors in towns they had visited and which he had visited as well. The long trek ended one evening when Torment and Nailith were sleeping in an inn of the town Rekash. He vision changed from black to red. He had pain, all around him, and he heard Nailith talk in the distance. Then it was over. Torment had been murdered. The next moment he opened his eyes again. Before him stood a figure covered with black robes, and a pale white face. He wore a long staff in his right hand, and beside him stood his old friend. "Welcome back, Torment. I fear you have been killed." He said it rather dryly, making it sound like it was something that happened daily. "You was resurrected by my friend here, who has experience in reviving the death. Necromancing. Torment, my strong friend, you are undead." This shocked Torment. Undead? Oh well, whatever. He wanted to demolish the mage who had done all this to his family and friends. And he probably killed him, as well. Suddenly the necromancer looked around with big eyes, "I sense him! A strong mage walks outside. It might be the one you are looking for, gentlemen!" Nailith looked outside and saw a figure dressed in black robes wandering. Another figure with a red cape and hood was walking next to him. Suddenly the man with the robes stopped, looking directly at Nailith. He had pure red eyes! And now he looked at the other man he noted the red eyes as well. They appeared out of sight, and a few moments later a knock on the door followed. Nailith opened, letting the mysterious people in. "Hello, Nailith. Ah, here he is. Hello, Torment." The barbarian looked confused at the person talking to him. "So you are the one who has done this to my town! You will pay, spellcaster!" He grabbed his axe and stood up, but Nailith motioned him to wait. The stranger continued, "now, I do not know of any mass killing of towns. Let me introduce myself, I am Madness. My compangion is Skyrim," Skyrim let his pale face slight into a smile, "and we came here for you, Torment. You have the evil inside you. You have the hate inside you. Join us, and we will show the murderer of your hometown." Torment was stunned. Suddenly a certain Madness and Skyrim stood before him, wanting him to join their party. "I think not," Torment said, but Nailith interrupted him. "He will join you, masters. Trust me, he will." Nailith closed his eyes, raised his arms and began enchanting words. Torment's axe began to glow, and it felt lighter. Then the glow fainted again. "Torment, my pupil. You are strong enough now, probably one of the most strongest barbarians in the world; And you didn't even knew it. Go now, my friend, go with these people: You can trust them." The barbarian was feeling weird. Nailith had just told him to join the two men. Oh well, if Nailith approved of it, Torment thought it to be alright. "Good luck, Torment, we will keep in touch. I, too, shall seek the mage who has done this unjustice to the people of Kenaz. He will pay." And Torment followed the two strangers, Madness and Skyrim, into the dark night.



Wonder what's on his mind.. Mean looking TORMeNT Relaxing on the couch Evil ToRMeNT !
He's a gnome ! Where's me rum ? Lord of Fools


ToRMeNT, drawn by PLuMK ToRMeNT, Tribal style Sword, Tribal style CeRBeRuS drawn on ToRMeNT's wall
PAiN, ToRMeNT's axe Fear the Damned LoRD FRoDo, drawn by ToRMeNT Dragons, beware !
Merry X-Mas!