by 
Who are you?
Name: Amon Ad'Reznick
Nickname: Harbinger of Menoth
Age: 27
Sexuality: Eunuch
Race: Human
Special features: No skin on the top of his head with a cross shape carved into the skull.
What are you like?
Personality:
A zealous missionary for his cause, Amon will and can stop at absolutely nothing to see the Scriptures of his faith take root in the human world. A fervent believer that there is is only one True God, Menoth, and that humans are the only creatures worthy of His mercy, he works tirelessly to cull all other beings that stand in the way of this cause, non-humans and "gods" alike. These impurities of the world must be removed by any viable means of force or cruelty. Never resting, Amon will either be preaching powerfully against the heretical lifestyle of those who refute the power of his unfamiliar God or quietly contemplating the means of their destruction. Every non-human left alive slowly tightens the noose around the neck of the world.
Easy to anger and swift to seek vengeance, no amount of disobedience or disrespect to his God may be tolerated by any who may speak it, and even those who cannot speak shall be weened out from the world as they are unable to truly spread Menoth's Testament. Only those of the Order may have consult with Amon, and every member is expendable. As long as His Will is being implemented, there is no unnecessary or meaningless death. While bringing forth death in the name of Menoth, with absolute certainty Amon casts those declared as heretics into the furnace of his faith. While he strives to lead his followers through example and the power of his belief, fear and death are just as viable of a means to keep the faith alive. For only Menoth's holy flames can bring true redemption to humanity, and only death may protect you from his wrath
Likes: Obedience, unquestioning resolve, mercilessness, resourcefulness
Dislikes: Rebellion, tolerance, disrespect, non-humans, defects
Motivations:
-The Will of Menoth is the sole driving force behind Amon's existence. Nothing exists beyond the righteous flames of his God, and all those swept away in its fury were deaths necessary for the cleansing of the world.
-Even past the Will of Menoth, Amon holds a natural hatred for non-humans. Their presence causes nothing but terror and a lack of unity, and their extermination would be a blessing to this world.
Fears:
-The abandonment of his God due to a dull of progress would be beyond devastating to Amon, and likely be the end of his life.
-While he sees them as disgusting and will not hesitate to act in their destruction, at his core he is terrified of non-humans.
What do you look like?
Height: 6'8
Weight: 245
Eye color: Red
Hair color: None
Appearance: An imposing figure, Amon holds himself in a stature that constantly remind those around him of his status and power. Constantly hiding within his robes, the only trait that acts as a reminder of who he is are his eyes burning like coals in the recesses of his hood. There are no subtle movements in his stride, no weakness may be shown in his actions. While at rest, the ornamental blades of his garb fold in on themselves, creating a much sleeker and "welcoming" appearance.
Where have you been?
Background: Since his release from the lairs of the Order and given the position as the Harbinger, Amon has worked without rest to spread Menoth's Testament and convert those who are able to listen and remove those who will or can not. As he has slowly roamed between outlaying villages and towns, he has brought all who claim they believe with him and burned down all that remained. As he came upon a small town with a half-human lord, he slaughtered everyone present within the castle and has now converted the ex-lord's land into a sanctuary for Menoth. Now, expanding his clergy and enslaving the people under the new power of his church, Amon is gradually building his power in order to truly cleanse this filthy world.
History:
As a child, Amon's entire family was systematically murdered. With hardly even a day between the murders, strange robed figures came as soon as the sun disappeared and pulled one of his many brothers, slaughtering them outside without so much as a sound, their bodies left mutilated and nearly unrecognizable. Never a chance to say goodbye, he simply waited quietly in the corner, hoping he would not be the next to disappear. No one could call for help, there was no one is this barren land to call to. His parents, crushed under the hopelessness of the inevitability of their children's deaths, hung themselves together. Amon and his brothers, being too few and too weak to remove them from their nooses, now must stare at the lifeless bodies of their parents sway slowly outside the house. Yes most would not have to wait long before disappearing into the night.
Finally, as he laid cold and alone in the dirt floor of his home, slowly starving to death as carrion birds rested patiently and warm on his broken windows, robed figures slowly filled the room. Amon prostrated himself on the ground before them, accepting whatever cruelties that might finally bring him his death. He closed his eyes and waited without a sound, but no rope was wrapped around his neck, no clubs or stones struck his head, and no daggers pierced his body. Instead, a warm cloth was wrapped tightly around his legs and wound up around his arms as well, leaving him with a mummified look. They lifted him and brought him outside, laying him upon a heavily ornamented table. Amon did not question how it got there, nor why it was there. The only question remaining in his crippled mind was whether this would be a slow or quick death, neither of which really mattered, as any death would have been a blessing at that point. Yet cursed shall he remain.
The figures laid him down upon the table, covering his face, hands, and feet with a faded red cloth. His feet were bound, and his hands strapped at his sides. He could no longer see what the cultists were doing, but he could feel a heat building within the table. Suddenly, a sharp pain traced a circle around his head, and things started to go dark and feel dull. The cultists had removed his scalp. Unable to be seen by Amon, the cultists revealed a small iron nail, inlaid with runes and ornamentation. Two cultists held his bloody head up off of the table, Amon barely conscious enough to feel what they were doing. As the two on each side of him began to chant, the third with the nail now grasped a small iron hammer, inscribed with similar carvings to those on the nail. As the chanting grew louder Amon started slipping away, his body feeling like it was being cooked over the heat that was coming from the table. As the chanting cultists reached their climax, the nail was driven directly into his scull, cleanly piercing towards his brain. A brilliant flame burst from the nail, and it appeared to melt and seep into the hole left behind in Amon's skull. Small glowing runes appeared on the revealed bone, searing away any blood that remained and cauterizing the surrounding skin. The cultists stepped back in wonder, and quietly chanted once again. After hundreds of failed children, they had finally found a suitable conduit for the brilliant flame of Menoth.
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