Vizaresh, the so-called tyrant. He would make a fine devil, if he could but recognize any law save his own. A brutal, cunning creature whose every movement, whose every breath demands: be afraid. Submit. Where this nightmare of a warrior walks, fear and oppression reign supreme.
Vizaresh fancies himself an abyssal noble, a warlord to whom obeisance must be given; though abject terror serves as a suitable substitute.
He expects all agreements with his person to be upheld and will even pretend to a degree of honor, until he grows bored with it or expediency requires otherwise. Those who are foolish enough to trust an agreement with him without supplying either a good reason for him to uphold it, or the power to make it more prudent to avoid unnecessary enmity, usually find themselves betrayed at the worst opportunity. He makes an effort to keep the appearance of honor, though, as one of his greatest pleasures is to manipulate both ambitious mortals and even devils into agreements that he intends to betray from the very beginning.
His own followers are usually save from these fickle habits, though repeated incompetence, insolence or treason are met with swift, creative and unusual punishments.
Though Vizaresh is perfectly capable of curbing his massive ego and treading carefully when dealing with equals and those more powerful, there is always the distinct impression of hatred seething beneath his twisted form. He abhors the notion of submitting to another, or even of recognizing anyone as his equal; his cruel treatment of his lessers after having been forced to do such is the stuff of nightmares. When dealing with equals, he prefers to put on the polite manners of a noble, but a constant distaste remains -- sometimes hidden, sometimes apparent -- within his words.
His greatest desire is, of course, to stand above all -- he would see even that arrogant, grand-standing Archdevil-God Asmodeus bow before him. However, to reach such power in the mad scramble most lesser demons would attempt is beneath him. Vizaresh intends to play a longer game. Gain what power there is to have, establish a firm hold in the material plane and consume, twist and corrupt until he can eventually unleash such chaos and terror upon the realms that none shall be able to tell even Mount Celestia itself from the deepest gash of the Abyss!Appearance
Vizaresh presents a dreadful visage to friend and foe alike, clad in a fearsome black armor the likes of which few have ever encountered. Solid plate steel above, heavy chain beneath, there is no spot that isn't heavily reinforced. His helmet, a tight head-shell with twin horns sprouting where his ears would be and curling back, only leaves the demon's chin visible, revealing that there is indeed a fiend inside the armor. What little there is shows tough grey skin, almost human lips and sharpened teeth.
He surveys his surroundings from thin eye-slits that glow with and constantly leak wisps of baleful energy, the colour of which changes depending on his mood. Beneath lies a powerful breastplate that features a reinforced protrusion to cover the neck and two pauldrons to protect the shoulders. The main chestpiee has silver ornamental engravings and, at its very center, holds the tiny skull of a goat, or perhaps a goat-like demon. Beneath that, Vizaresh's legs are protected by laminar cuisses, multiple layers of plate overlaid above chain. Between each layer burns the same power that lights up his eyes. His knee guards hold the form of a dread knight's helmet, the ornamental eyes glowing with yet more of the same, adding further to the quiet menace of the armor.
Even otherwise unarmed, the powerful gauntlets around his hands sport wicked claws that could shred steel with ease. His preferred weapon, however, is a giant blade that, unlike many weapons of this size, looks razor-sharp and is reinforced with extra steel in the middle, sharp spikes protruding to the side to give more stability and a malicious bite. The grip features the same ornamental skull as seen on the chest-piece, though it is much larger.
To complete the ensemble, a tattered black cloak hangs from his shoulders, torn from battle and the punishing winds of the Abyss.
When Vizaresh moves, he does so with menace and dark purpose, accompanied by the chinking sounds of his armor. It seems a testament to his skill that such a heavy burden does not impede his movement in the slightest, revealing surprising speed despite his heavy form, when he has to.
The tyrant's voice is very deep and a little rough, but still within the range a mortal might produce. It has a level of sophistication to it, his enunciation appropriate for the aristocrat he aspires to be.