Imre, the Archer Upon the Clouds

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Sometimes scarlet clouds sweep through the skies of the Demon City. These clouds cannot block the light of the green sun, but demons down below fear their appearance for the rain from these clouds are arrows. Winged demons flock around the clouds, and atop them rules Imre, sixth soul of Adorjan.

In his most common forms, Imre is a lithe and almost feminine young man with masses of flowing blond curls. Four wings of white jade sprout from his back, tipped with clawed hands. He carries a great bow carved from ivory and horn, stringed with heart tendons. One of his eyesockets is empty, replaced with a mini tornado made from the winds of his greater self. He usually covers that eye with a patch, but should he reveal it hurricane-strength winds whip out and fill the area. He lost the eye in an archery duel with a Sidereal during the Primordial War - a great game of cat and mouse which went on for forty days and nights. This eye is also missing in his other forms - a two-headed ape who rides a great winged tiger, a red sparrow who brings sleep in its wake, or a ten-legged zebra who runs as fast as the wind.

Few within the Demon City are as skilled with a bow as he is. When he is sober, he can reach across a hundred layers of Malfeas with ease and hit his intended target. When he is drunk - a more common state of being - he will still always hit someone, even if they were not who he is aiming for. Fletched with his own feathers, his arrows ignore all inclement weather and seek out the eyes or hearts of targets. If they strike an eye, they kill. Should they strike a heart, however, they send the target into a deep sleep filled with maddening visions of the teachings of Adorjan and dreams of the agony of love until the shaft and head are removed.

The Archer Upon the Clouds is a reprobate and a hedonist. Frequently he descends from his lands at the lead of a horde of winged demons to pillage at his whim, returning laden down with drink and slaves. Many of the other Unquestionable think little of his intellect, viewing him as a fool. He has tried many times to rise above the blood-red moon in the skies of Malfeas and despite the fact that he can slay an army in moments each time through his impulsiveness and lack of forethought he has been defeated. Seldom is he seen without a clay jar of some form of alcohol at his hip, and when he is drunk he will fly over the Demon City shooting whatever takes his fancy.

Yet despite the fact he is no great thinker he is also one of the most skilled of the demon princes in slipping the chains of the Demon City. He can escape when the child of a ruling monarch wishes for their unknowing beloved to pay attention to and love them and appears to deliver the message they wish the beloved to know. Alternatively, he can also slip free when Adorjan bids him to carry a message and his target flees to Creation before he can find them. The Chosen of the Maidens have found that he can often be coaxed to return to the demon realm if bribed with fine spirits or if defeated in a game of chance - and that if offered Celestial Wine he will perform a favour for them out of gratitude before returning.

It is of course entirely illegal to trade the drinks of the gods to a demon prince. It is doubly illegal to arrange for him to escape Malfeas just so he can be bribed with Celestial Wine to perform a task, even if it can be very convenient at times. No doubt the Bureau of Destiny would impose the harshest sanctions were it to discover that one of its members had done such a thing.

Notes and abilities: Imre looks like he is just playing the fool, acting like a drunkard to hide his greater schemes. Alas, he really is that simple. Born in the Primordial War and painfully close to the coldness of the Silent Wind that swirls within his eye socket, he drinks because life is easier when he is not sober. He has entirely given up on the idea that things can be different. The Yozis will never escape, the gods will never relent on their torture, and thus he might as well take what pleasures he can. Liquor numbs the pain.

Sorcerers call upon Imre as a weapon of war or as a messenger. Upon the battlefield and as long as he is sober enough to tell friend from foe, the Archer Upon the Clouds can wipe out an enemy army in a few heartbeats. His hands move faster than can be seen and the air catches fire from the speed at which he draws and releases. This leaves him exhausted and surly. As a messenger he can send dreams, visions and fancies wrapped around his arrows to anyone he perceives, or he is given the name and description of.

His lost eye was taken as a trophy, and lies somewhere within the vaults of Heaven crafted long ago into the pommel of a deva-slaying blade. None can say what would happen were he to be reunited with it.

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