[Daemon] Ashur-dan Dunegrave[WIP]

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Biography:
Born and raised in the City of the Badlands, Ashur was a son of a Cur. Despite being in the pack, his father never treated him well, his father an alcoholic drunk, he'd beat Ashur and made him fight with his siblings over the very little food they'd get. Ashur grew up, loitering the slums, where he chose to work for a gang, thieving and begging, trying to earn money to get food.

Ashur grew up in the squalid slum, fighting other kids alot, living in such a cut throat place. His father pressured him into finding a real job when he reached his teens, eventually pushing him to fight in the slum fight pits over handfuls of money.

Ashur's father groomed his son into being a fighter, seeing it as a way for him to climb out of the hole of being a Cur via the crucible. Ashur simply thought his father was a prick and trudged on through life before the Crucible finally came.

Ashur entered and fought, fighting even more desperate men and women, looking to climb the social ladder through death. Ashur was never particularly a great fighter, never trained traditionally nor taught. The first 3 combtants were other curs or scamps, Ashur killed them one after another each round.

On his fourth round, Ashur was matched up with a Worker Daemon, one who was given his father's old soldier curiass and a set of slave catcher talon claw chains, meant to flay fleeing slaves. The match was nearly futile for Ashur, his only weapon a short sword, his opponent kept him out of his zone swinging his clawed chain.

Ashur tried to charge his opponent but the man dashed backward while swinging his talon around, catching Ashur along his left shoulder, the talon chains dug in and Ashur was tugged forward as the man raised his boot to kick Ashur.

Ashur fell to the ground screaming as his shoulder and pec was flayed open, the man swung his chain around trying to whip him with it, failing two times as ashur rolled, clutching his flayed shoulder in pain. The opponent then came to plant a foot on him and try to stab the claw into Ashur's eyes when Ashur raised his sword and sliced along the man's inner thigh.

Ashur nearly died bleeding out once the round ended, only surviving because of his father. His father came and had rushed to a doctor, spending good money to save his son. Ashur went under basic surgery, his arm wrapped with a tourniquet and bandaged.

Ashur woke up within 4 days, his father not around to watch over him. He later declared forfeiting from the crucible and tried to go back to his squalid life, but he was too injured to fight in the fight pits, too injured to work as a laborer.

Ashur felt despair, crushed, his left shoulder flayed, the muscles torn up, skin scarring over barely to hold it all together. There was no way up for a man like him, in a city that crushed man like him under its working mechanisms.

Ashur then struggled to survive after that, thieving to buy food to sate his hunger, his father never talked to him after that. As a wounded man, he had no skills, no ability to speak off and sooner than later, a guard would catch him or a gang of thieves would crush his skull in.

So Ashur decided that the City had nothing for him, that he'd die on his own terms. He gathered supplies to make journey out of the city and into the desert, southward, with not much of a glint of hope in making it out of the desert, thinking he'd die to some beast.

His journey was full of peril, his biggest struggle, keeping his flayed shoulder covered and clean, many times he nearly died, escaping from monsters. He eventually made it out of the desert and into more southern climates. It was a bizarre change, an environment lush with plants and animals, though he didn't trust it all, knowing that many of them are bound to be predators like those in the desert.

Eventually, Ashur made his way to civilization, only to be treated like batshit. He wandered onward, living day by day, his old badland city ways entrenched within him.

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General Information

Nicknames/Aliases: Ashurton
Age: ** 45 **
Languages: ** Daemon,Common **
Gender: ** Male **
Race: ** Daemonheim**
Caste:**Cur**
Education: ** No formal education**
Alignment: ** Neutral-Evil**
Persona: ** Abrasive**
Marital Status: ** Single**

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Appearance
Height: ** 5'6'' **
Weight: ** 161 lbs **
Build: ** Mesomorphic **
Physique and Demeanor: ** Short Crimson Hair , Narrow-build,Rude Demeanor. **
Eye Colour: ** Brown **

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Skills & Traits:
Light on his feet: An agile rabbit of a man, he's quick on his feet.

Quick: Ashur is quick with a blade, though, only if its a small weapon like a shortsword or dagger.

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Drawbacks:
Weakened left shoulder muscles: His left shoulder muscles are knitting again but will not let Ashur fully utilize unless he wishes to damage them again.
-Cannot use two handed items or use left arm fully to push or pull.

"Fuck yeh I aimn't lifteng that."

Scarred left arm and pectoral: His left arm and pec is partly scarred over after his tragic crucible fight, though it is still fresh and weak skin that looks a bit ugly.

"What yeh looken at?"

Distrustful:Years of growing in the badlands City has left him distrustful.
"Aimnt no one to trust in a city, or village."

Sour angry bitchy resting face: His face rests in a rather disgruntled constepated look with furrowed brows.

"Told yeh to stop looken at me, cunt."

Good to see you back, Asian.

I'm pretty happy to see you here, and I'm liking how the page looks - but I think Nazz should shift his voice to this thread, as he has the full authority on the Daemons. I know the information, but I don't know entirely what I'm supposed to look for in characters yet. = 3