Dioxide — Roleplayer Guild

[[not my best work, and in fact I will probably edit this more to suit my needs, and the GMs'. Please notify me if there needs changing.]]

Name:

Dante Fernshaw

Age:

30

Origin:

Drupali

A talented spy, part of a pillaging and terrorizing bandit crew, had taken upon himself to infiltrate and provide reconnaissance over a treasury in Drupali. The crew had been stationed near a village, not too far off the big city. He was to pose as a passer-by in the village prior, a cover-up story to fall back on, for preparation of a risky and daring attempt at a big haul. One was to be only a day or so had become a week, then another few, the consequence of falling in love with the amiable and all-welcoming village herbalist. He and She, a culmination of attractions and emotions the two themselves had never experienced until that point, never wanted to leave each other behind, even as he confessed to her his terrible history. Killing is easy, with a swift slash from the blade; forgiving and being in love, that is hard, the challenge ever so rewarding, happiness indubitably most valuable than any pool of gold. So was the start of the partnership in life, the abandonment of his evil past, and founding of a new one, right in Drupali – with which came a Dante Fernshaw.

Of course, the absence-without-leave did not go unnoticed. In fact, the reason the spy was sent was because he was exceptional in his field – an outstanding weapon for the crew, whom one would consider the backbone of what was powerless without him. An asset of the finest calibre, his honed skills of escapology, swordsmanship and close-quarters combat in and out of stealth, was of the levels practically second to none. He was the sort of person that could figure the ins and outs of a place like Drupali. When word was heard of his treason, relentless assassination attempts were made to him and his new family, and all failed, quiet deaths that kept Drupali calm and peaceful.

As the father kept his family safe, he watched his son grow. Dante had an affinity and predilection for being quiet and sneaky, but though his fears of his own past might come back to haunt him in the form of his very own flesh in blood, it never seemed to manifest. Dante was a friendly soul, close to his parents and his neighbours, a local aid to the community. Dante had a big heart and smile, a bigger sprout of his potentiality akin to his father, if not greater, to being an assassin. Come the age deemed mature enough for the father to reveal his history, intensive training began and he judged Dante to surpass him in ability at even a younger age than he at his prime.

All was well until the day Dante’s father, whose body and health was still in excellent condition, after a night escapade fending off more assassins, fell into a deep coma and never woke back up. The mother, the widow, had determined it to be a poison spell, but it had occurred too quickly, and an antidote spell was not going to help. Dante, enraged, sought out for revengeance. He had recalled his father’s stories of his past, and had little difficulty in tracking the bandit crew down. It was a testament to how quickly he brought down the entire crew of two hundred fifty seven highly-trained murderers. It was true that his talent was of a level beyond his father’s, but it was perhaps the collective mind from his mother that made his nature not cunning, but cultured and trained. Each swift, silent kill was deliberate, not passionate; precise, powerful, practiced yet innovative. When he had acquired the very book of enchantments that was used to kill his father, he brought it and studied it to the letter and cover.

His committing of mass murder, he deemed justified, a righteous act for the good of people he cared for. He could not bring back his father, but he could protect his mother, and everyone else. A career of vigilantism had begun, a protector of innocent lives, a necessary evil serving to the aid of good, an anti-hero that is both unwanted with his maleficent talents but needed with his extraordinary efficiency. Prominent political, military and bureaucratic figures are not out of the question, but a test of morality is determined before the blade.

Class:

Assassin

Skills:

Physical

Fighting prowess

His fighting style rests of the principle of formlessness, that there is no fixed stance but an adaptive and fluid one. So long as the death can be dealt as effectively as possible, the technique need not be a focus. However, this will mean he is not adept in any one style, of whose counterparts are masters of, and may lack the physical attributes such as an increased musculature. The lack thereof may result in swift and decisive blows and movement, but again pale in comparison to that of practitioners.

Top-notch in daggers, blades and katars

With his bare fists, Dante will not last a fight for long without fighting “unfairly” for the sake of survival. However, give him a blade, and he will fall any who stand his way. He possesses an excellent aim with throwing knives, delivering them at blinding speeds, in rapid succession, and with enough strength to pin a person to an object - should the blade be long enough, that is.

When they are not being thrown, dual-wielded blades make the mark of Dante’s flexible fighting style. Blades will not provide the hefty weight that a strike of the sword will provide, but blades offer nimble and accurate precision to the deathly weaknesses of the human anatomy.

Finally, Dante possesses two personalized push-dagger katars. Their horizontal hilts rest a few inches before the blade. A spring mechanism is placed within the hilt that allows it to be gripped and squeezed, revealing/unsheathing two more blades, halves formed from resting on top of a full blade underneath, blooming three fans of blades in a push’s command. The blades of the katars are forty centimeters long, and the guards go up the entire length of his forearm, the sides with a small fin-like blade for lacerations along the side. The razor-sharp blades are large and fatal enough to pierce, but not slice through, armour and dismember a part of or decapitate a person.

Phantom-like stealth and movement

This is an umbrella term that extends and relates to all his abilities as a master assassin. Firstly, his silent movements and honed training and understanding of his physical capacities allow him to deaden all possible sounds to be emitted. His breath is even as smooth and shallow as a slight blow of the wind, his senses perfect and tending to detail, perpetually aware of his surroundings.

While practically invisible in the dead of night and darkness, he is just as deadly in the daytime, as a competent master of disguise with an acute intuition of blending and moving in the crowd. A naturally friendly person that builds healthy relations with others is the type that the unwise are able to realize a lethal blades-man.

Sensitive to the environment, Dante is able to utilize it and turn it to his advantage, be it a smoke-cloud, rope, stones, and even the Sun.

Magical

Dante does not favour magic too much, for the sake of cumbersomeness with the carrying of a rune. However, if need be, it is not impossible for him to perform specific and necessary tasks.

fatalis toxicum
A spell which imbues his current weapon with a fatal toxic property, which slowly kills the victim should the blow not (or intended not to) kill them. A gangrenous, debilitating effect is seen sprawling from the wound to the rest of the body until the person dies from the inside-out.

deflectere fumi
A crack in the ground appears and smoke seeps out and swells into a bellowing mass, thick and opaque to mask out the Sun, a radius as high as ten feet wide in radius. This serves as a good distraction mechanism for either an escape or a new vantage point for a win in the fight.

Connections: [Waiting for GMs]

Sample:

[This is from the view-point of a new acquaintance, whom Dante had started a friendly discussion with over in a pub.]

“You a family man, my friend?” said the man to Dante, whose smile was as contagious as his snarky smile that hinted a friendly sarcastic tone, as if anyone who he’s just met, he’s known for the longest time. His clean, dark hair, short and maintained at the side whilst the top is allowed long and puffed enough to be a lion’s mane, short of covering his eyes, curling rightwards, made him look like a young experimental man, yet the look of concentration in his eyes, and his poise and seeming alertness reveals more to see a sharp, attentive, perhaps intelligent and worn man who has been through life in a way fewer men have. He was of an above-average height, perhaps a good six feet, a lean but muscular body it seemed by the control and articulation he has with his movements. His clothes gave out a sort of mysterious air to him, on most days – not the common man’s daily wears, not all the time anyway, sometimes of the kind that a traveller, or a wander, would don, as if one were always on the move. It would be a sleek coat, not a sight of ruffles about him. Dark coloured too, and entrenching him, concealing a lot of him, but allowing still the freest of movement. Tonight, he was dressed in his usual wears.

“Yes, my good man. I come from Drupali, and my mother and I have been there for the longest time. I leave every now and then to go on business trips. They don’t take long, and I usually come back in time for dinner time with mom!”

“What sort of business do you do? I see you ‘round here but no one seems to know what you do?”

“Well, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you this… But, for you, I’ll indulge you with the secrets of my life.

You see, I’m an assassin. I started when my father died and I took out the BloodHyres single-handedly. The local authorities got word of it and while they don’t exactly tell me who it is they want me to off, they… leave clues around and I just follow them. I also do political assassinations should the leaders bode poorly for the innocent folk like you all.”

“Wait, the BloodHyres? The group of no-good bastard thugs and murderers that has been around for the last decade or so that suddenly happened to have died all at once in one night? You’re telling me you did that?”

“Yup.”

The two maintained their stares at one another, silent in the middle of the bustling bar and music, then the two burst into laughter, the man more uncontrolled the Dante, cackling away, his beer spilt, Dante ordering another round as he struggled to hold back his giggling.

“Oh, my friend! You are good, you are good! You really had me going there with how you shifted your head around, looking at me serious-like, intending murder at Shaunder over there,” the man said as he nodded his head towards the portly man, the same one Dante had looked at during the “declaration.” “Please, I would like to invite you over to my home. I’m sure my family wi-”

Dante held up a finger, a gentle smile spread across his face, polite and collected as a gentleman, “Please hold that thought.”

In a blindingly swift move, Dante flung his right hand from the left side to the right, his right arm extended and flexed, his hand open. The man tried to follow the direction of his hand in motion, and at the end of the point saw Shaunder, the butt-end of a knife protruding from a bleeding hole in the front of his head. His mouth agape, eyes wide-open in shock at the last second of life he had had left. His table companions started, and soon the whole bar erupted into chaos as fear and shock took over and everyone treading over another to flee for their lives. The man, however, remained where he sat, and Dante leaned forward to his ear and whispered:

“Filiph Shaunder had bludgeoned his two servants to death and threw their bodies in the river nearby. No one could found a good enough reason to convict. Take care of your family, my friend.”

As fluid as his death blow was, his escape seemed far too natural for anyone to suspect him. It all seemed easy to him.

“An assassin… well how about that?”

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