<div class="floatright">(http://th04.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/i/2012/308/3/3/tiefling_kensai_fiend_flayer_magus_by_borkweb-d5jzhxn.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong><em>When they came for me, I killed seven of their men. They tried to get their vengeance in a hanging but the fools used poor rope, it snapped. Then they tried beheading me but the blade only bit into my skin and caught on the bone. I bled, but still did not die. So they tossed me in a cell to "pay" for my crimes. Apparently they found another way for me to repay my debt to society. I think they hope I'll die out there. They should know better by now.</em></strong></span><br/><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Zachariah Hempstead (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=641063)<br/><strong>Race:</strong>Tiefling<br/><strong>Class:</strong>Magus<br/><br/><strong>History:</strong>Zachariah, or simply Z, is a sell-sword. He has been since the time he could properly swing a blade somewhere in his teenage years, at a time when his family being not so well to do wanted him working to bring in a wage. Early work included guard duty for some of the local shops at night, wagon guard, and the like. He was only fourteen the first time that he had to defend something lethally. Z found he had a taste for bloodshed. He began serving his customers' interests with a great deal more finality than was necessary. Thieves would start by losing hands at his blade, some even their very lives. It was first thought that he was just overzealous in the defense of his masters' belongings but truly he was simply a lover of bloodshed. So when a man came to him and asked him to kill for profit, Z found his calling.<br/><br/>Learning a penchant for the gruesome kill, there was never a doubt that the target had been assassinated. Call it what you will, he was a monstrous being and executed his tasks with an almost machine-like efficiency. There was never a witness left behind, nor was there ever anything particularly linking a murder to him, until one of his employers reneged on a task. It is in the interest of a man to keep his word, especially in the assassin for hire business, so when a killing which had gone particularly well (no additional casualties) was not paid for, a disagreement arose. This disagreement ended with the death of a man, his wife, their three children (none old enough to have gender assigned at a distance), a family dog, and the torching of the family home. This even would not have been enough to seal his fate, except that so spattered in blood and with the thrill of so much death, he failed to see on his way from the premises a small street urchin quivering in a corner. This was to be his undoing. The constabulary was summoned and dispatched in utter horror first to the scene of the crime, smoldering yet with bodies in various states of burn and dismemberment, and then to the home of one Zachariah Hempstead, the man who fit the description of the assailant. At first, he related his shock at such a possibility, but when asked to surrender his weapon, the event happened. Three dead on the spot. A fourth proved too fast for him to chase down, so he decided to lie in wait. The ambush took another four with a half-dozen wounded in the capture.<br/><br/>Death spared him. Again and again, he lived through their various tortures and devices, confessing nothing. They hanged him, tried to behead him, even tried to starve him, but he lived on. So they locked him away in the darkest part of the dungeon. Then the plague came. Three and a quarter years it has been since last Z saw light which wasn't spilling down the stairs or cast by a torch, in that sort of dark a man could go mad, but no man there lay. He had become less than human long ago, a monster, a beast. In truth he was none of these, he was simply a sword. A sword was all he had ever been since first he grasped one, a weapon to be pointed at one's enemies or used for one's own safety. So when  they decided they needed a mission sent and guarded, they saw a chance to be dispatched of him. He would either die or he would serve a purpose. They always held the option of killing him anyway.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">OOC</div><div class="spoiler_body">Now you might say, "Why would we want such a sociopath on our mission?" Well, first off they wouldn't just let him go of his own accord. Out of the 4k in stuff we get from the royal vaults, 250 of it is going to a Prisoner's Ring (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic-items/rings/dungeon-ring), which will be also enchanted with Mark of Justice (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/m/mark-of-justice), to prohibit action against his party members. The phrasing of this prohibition would be up to the DM, to allow as little or as much wiggle room as she likes. That would take 700 total of my 4k, which I'm gladly willing to pay to play this character while also allowing a degree of safety to the poor souls accompanying me. After all, how else would the kingdom trust me unless they had some form of a leash on me?</div></div>