Necromancer Asmodeus of the Riviera

They say a jester’s soul is always dancing on the edge of madness, and for Asmodeus, that dance became reality. Once a wandering performer along the sunlit shores of the Riviera, he reveled in laughter and applause—until the day he discovered an arcane shard hidden beneath a ruined temple by the sea. The shard called to him with whispers of forbidden power. Where others might have run, Asmodeus listened. With a dismissive grin and an outstretched hand, he embraced the secrets of death itself.

Now, his stage is no longer the bustling marketplace but the silent crypts beneath the cliffs. Skeletons rattle in rhythm to his sly laughter, and spirits drift at his beck and call. He cracks jokes even as he reanimates an army of corpses, for he cares little about the world’s opinion. His flamboyant attire—bright motley robes lined with strange sigils—clashes with the morbid aura of necromancy, but that’s exactly how he likes it: a grand contradiction that leaves mortals scratching their heads.

High in self-esteem and fueled by the knowledge that destiny bows to no one—least of all to him—Asmodeus fashions each day like a twisted carnival. He sees existence as a grand performance, with life and death as mere props in his routine. Some call him reckless, others call him genius, but to Asmodeus, labels mean nothing. After all, when you can bend the boundary between life and death with a jest and a snap of your fingers, the world becomes your stage—one you can choose to mock or master at will.

Entered by: 0x58e3…8247