(A rp I was in got abruptly stopped so why not hop on this one instead?)/(Sorry I accidentally didn't post the entire bio at once, it's done now!)
Age: 52 years old
Personality: Solemn, cold and generally not someone you feel good and merry around. He won't do you the favor to stay silent when he has to order you around and shows an antipathy towards cultists even more than demons. On a visual aspect he is lean, not very tall about 1.82 give or take with crimson straight hair up under the ears and a constantly shaved bright red hint of a beard around the mouth.
Equipment: Holy Text/Cross
Holy Hand Grenade(if possible)
Powers: Blank / Mind Control Resistance / Banish / Enhanced Swordsmanship / Holy Fire Manipulation+(If possible I would like to add general/unholy fire resistance since it would fit the theme of the character and you said we can add abilities. No prob if I can't
Scorched Caverns day 1. "This is the magistrate of the demon hunters dispatched northwest of.. dammit we can't even remember our names here. This place is unholy no matter where we are we hear screams and nobody is there. No demons no cultists not a thing. Only the villages in the caverns, and the fire, there is always the fire crackling. We are hunting stones and gravel and we can hear them laughing at us, laughing inside our heads. Oh and how much we want to rip them out..."
Scorched Caverns day 6. "We had to go pick up provisions from the village again. The folk don't like us much, they eye us carefully behind their ashen veils. The orphans are also peculiar, looking with their big empty eyes at us. Aside that, there was a fire in the camp today. No one knew who started it. A brother was burned alive, everything but his cross and the fire magically disappeared then. We immediately packed up and relocated. I tried to pick up the charred cross but it burned my hand fiercely and I had to drop it where it dissolved. Forgive us for our insolence but here ever man thinks that their prayers are muffled by the crackling of the fires."
Scorched Caverns day 24. "My burned hand is worse. The blackened skin has reached as far as my shoulder and I fear it won't stop. I am trying to hide it under the robes and armor but I doubt that is a wise choice. We are out of holy water trying to purge the fires that spread out. We are certain this is demonic work, the village folk come around the pits where the fires had been and some of them pray, every morning they pray where at night there was fire. They are unbelievers, they are treacherous filth. They must be cleansed immediately, I do not care what they say I will lead the attack myself. We will burn them, and then we will consume them yes, yes, YES and they will be charred limbs waiting to be devoured and we shall be FREE!"
Scorched Caverns day 28. "This is Judge Artus speaking. Our magistrate went mad, possibly corrupted by demons. He was muttering all the time how he can't remember a thing and I bet my heart I saw him light that fire but I dismissed it as hallucinations common in this gravel pit. That burned cross he was carrying seemed to affect him somehow. He appeared with every recruit in the middle of the village and had them shoot the innocent women and children. And then the robed figures appeared wielding fire and tattooed in bright red colors of horrific scenes. And before we realized it, the magistrate was on fire laughing hysterically and spewing orange liquids. I shot him in the head and rallied the recruits around us. The battle took all night and the innocent were dropping dead all around. In the end these devilish mages gathered around and tried to burn the whole place alive. I led the remaining recruits out and after the loud explosion we went to investigate. It was weird how only an orphan remained, a boy of few words roughly 7 years old. But he was not burned. We could see marks the fire had left but the next day they were as soon as gone. The boy seemed to develop psychic skills so I am taking it with me to the headquarters to train him as a recruit. I named him Ignatius, considering the fashion of his abilities since he didn't even have a name, poor lad."
---End of Order Audio Record---
The year of 2925 was the year Igantius was recruited in the order. He was nothing but a child, an orphan living with his family in the caves he could always remember. What he could also remember was that there was fire in the cave all the time, and crosses, although not the ones demon hunters carry now, black and charred ones, twisted in horrifying figures. And then the demon hunters came...
They descended on the cultists with profound aggression slashing left and right and delivering swift death to all who would oppose them. The leader of the cult knowing his situation was desperate started praying to his unholy demons, and so the entire cave was ablaze, everyone's flesh charred inside. Except Ignatius's. The flames engulfed him, embraced him and seeped through him but never burned it and when the remaining demon hunters realized that he was immediately recruited.
He rose through the lower ranks of the order by showing combat prowess early on and managed to get the rank of the magistrate 20 or so years after his recruitment. But ever since he was not going to be any more cheerful again. The more demons he killed the more demons would spawn somewhere else, the more recruits he saved the more would be dead and disfigured somewhere else and that feeling of inevitable defeat was not something he could stomach with pleasure.
What was certain though was his ability to inspire the lower hunters around him. Many of his students knew his story and would mutter it among themselves some time, he was aware of that but did nothing to prevent them. Each man is qualified to his secrets as long as he can keep them secret enough he would always believe. Besides even he was troubled by that. He didn't know any information from where was he, or in the end what was he? Could it be he wasn't a human? There was no information on the cult he remembered from the caves. And when he would try to sleep in the middle of the night, the crackling of the fire was always there....