FANDOM


Motivation: Savor what must soon perish

Caste: Day

Anima Banner: Typhon’s anima crawls with images of thousands of vermin, bursting from beneath his skin in gory writhing masses as though chewing their way out.


Typhon

Born to a Realm family that unwisely imagined it could rebel against the Scarlet Empress and failed utterly, forcing the survivors into exile in the Scavenger Lands, the young Typhon tried his hand at petty crime on the streets of Thorns until the Mask of Winters conquered the city. Typhon’s mother deluded herself once more to think she could rebel - until the undead shocktroops burst into the rebellion’s pitiful lair and slaughtered everyone at its initial gathering. Typhon would have died had the Mask of Winters not seen the boy’s mercenary cruelty and decided to offer him Exaltation.

Typhon is a key part of the Mask of Winters’s strategy as Thorns’s ambassador to the Confederation of Rivers - a role the young, handsome deathknight relishes. Few recognize how vile he really is under his trademark smile, which is precisely why Mask of Winters chose him for his assignment.

It is also telling that the Deathlord selected a Day Caste than a Moonshadow to represent him to the Confederation of Rivers, electing to keep his actual emissaries to deal with other Deathlords and rival powers that Mask of Winters deems a true threat while putting a dilettante assassin to walk among the representatives of neighboring countries like a clawstrider amidst cows. One day, the Mask of Winters will give the long-awaited order, and Typhon will slaughter all the diplomats to the Confederation as a contemptuous prelude to the devastation of their nations.

In his weakness and to his master’s great disgust, Typhon retains the visage of a living man with tousled brown hair, rosy cheeks and lips that appear full, slightly pouty and eminently kissable. He looks dangerous to be sure, as no one undergoes the Black Exaltation without some predatory refinement, but he seems more like someone who gets away with murder in a figurative (rather than literal) sense. This lie serves him and the Mask of Winters well, and has led many lovers of both gender to their doom. None will ever find their bodies or prove he was there.

Sometimes, though, he secretly hopes a brilliant detective will come along and expose him just so he can just kill everyone and start a new game. It isn’t that he isn’t patient. He just longs for a challenge worthy of his talents.