It wasn't all love potions and phenomenal cosmic power. Actually, it was rarely love potions and never phenomenal cosmic power. Love is impossible to duplicate correctly and there's always someone stronger. Or, how does the saying go? There's always a bigger fish.
Edrik Pedrone was your ordinary looking man, of a sort. He wasn't too tall, but taller than average and while he looked thin it was due to his lean muscles, or so he'd have you believe. He was a naturally lanky looking man that looked to be in his mid thirties with hair slicked back and greased as if it belonged to an era past. His eyes were the color of money and carried a look that was reserved for CEO's and politicians. He knew he was better than you, but there was no need to say it.
The Wizard, for that was precisely was Edrik was, came from a long line of money and in his centuries of life he had continued to mass it in no small quantity. It showed by the way he dressed, even when skulking about after hours in a grave-yard it was clear that he did not belong.
He wore an expensive suit with the shoes to match, all black. Even the cane he used for walking, carried in his left hand, was black with gold filigree. Of course none of that was visible right now, no, Edrik wouldn't be caught dead walking into a cemetery. The only cause for someone to think someone was prowling around was due to the open gate and foot prints that he left behind.
Skilled in magics as he was Edrik had decided that it was prudent to travel using The Ways to get as close as he could to this place and then wrap himself in a veil of invisibility for the short trek. At the moment he walked across the grass, a fog laying close to the ground to add to the eeriness of the grave-yard.
It wouldn't be until he was well out of sight from the main road that he let his veil drop. Edrik adjusted his suit jacket and peered about the immediate area.
“Yes, this will do nicely.” His voice was somewhat nasally, but cold and distant. Around him were not just simple graves, but crypts from long ago. Ornate pieces at one time he was sure, but now time had stolen away their beauty and they were left, forgotten by the current era.
Edrik paused at one such crypt, a large and beautiful thing that looked like it once depicted angels. But the carving was mostly faded, spray paint marked one side and the sculptures that once stood guard had been blasted away by the elements. All things seemed to fade in time he lamented, taking time to pay his respects, head bowed in silence.
Dresden Files Based character ported over for roleplaying. If you are familiar with the series than you will know exactly how this guy functions.
FULL NAME: EDRIK PEDRONE NICKNAMES: NONE. BIRTH DATE: UNKNOWN. ETHNICITY: WHITE RELIGION: NONE. OCCUPATION: INVESTOR. PLACE OF BIRTH: NEW YORK, NY, USA. PLACE OF RESIDENCE: New York, NY.
APPEARANCE;
Height: 6'2”
Weight: 174 .lbs
Edrik Pedrone has the lean body of a runner and carries himself with confidence. His hair is a raven black and always kept slicked back away from his bright blue eyes. Edrik is often seen wearing expensive suits and named brand clothing. While he personally doesn't care what he wears he understands that people are often judged simply by the way they look, so he makes sure to take meticulous care of himself. A quirk of a smile can almost always be seen, as if he knows something you don't, which may be true considering what the man is. When he speaks it is often quietly, as if he is telling you a secret. He rarely raises his voice or lets any emotion crack through his calm exterior.
PERSONALITY;
Edrik needs order, he is dominant and normally the quiet type, but when does speak he needs people to listen to him, and he tends to be the thinker. He looks forward, he doesn’t care about what happens now, in the present time. He is extremely judgmental and while he might not always vocalize his displeasure he will not forget it. Edrik is a good listener even though he doesn’t care much for how others feel, heis good at observing others and learning from them.
On the flip side, Edrik can be naive at times, believing his own abilities and knowledge will pull him through whatever he faces. When he does anger he looses his cool violently, reaching out to punish what angered him. He is also not a forgiving person, if you've crossed him he will remember and he will come back for revenge, on his terms. Being Edrik's friend is not easy, if he judges you an idiot or incompetent he will not bother to give you the light of day. Edrik respects power in one form or another, be it mundane or magical in its nature and he is always striving to acquire more.
EQUIPMENT;
Cane/Sword - Edrik often walks with a very ornate cane. This cane hides an enchanted sword in its depths. With a twist and flick of his wrist a long thin silver blade can be revealed. The sword has been enchanted to help cut through magical defenses as well as for strength and durability. The Cane also serves to help Edrik focus and control his earth magic, helping the magic to be more precise, controlled and powerful.
.38 Special Revolver - While not fancy, this gun is reliable, which is exactly what Edrik needs when more sophisticated guns tend to break and jam around him.
Pentacle Necklace - The pentagram is the symbol of Edrk's faith and he has as much belief in it as a christian has in the cross. This could very well make creatures weak to 'holy' effects based on faith shy away from the necklace when its shown.
Leather Bracer - This is somewhat of an oddity for a man that dresses in the latest fashions. But on Edrik's left wrist is a leather bracer that has copper woven through it. The Bracer is enchanted to aid Edrik's water evocation, specifically his defensive minded spells.
Fathers Ring - His fathers special ring, its is simple silver with a black diamond at its center and thirteen smaller white diamond set around it. This ring does not help with evocation magic, but it does aid Edrik with thaumaturgy rituals designed to summon creatures.
ABILITIES;
STRENGTHS: Arcane Knowledge: Edrik is a wizard, knowledge is his forte. As one might expect, he is incredibly knowledgeable about different creatures, artifacts and powers in the world.
Fencer: Edrik is an exceptional fencer, even just dabbling in it. The years have allowed him to slowly become skilled.
Magic: Edrik is able to tap into the natural energies of the world and shape them to his will, albeit with effort. Edrik is capable of both evocation and thaumaturgy. As far as evocation is concerned, he can use all five classical elements with extreme proficiency but is exceptionally skilled in both Earth and Water magics.
Wizards Constitution: Despite popular belief Wizards are not frail old men, not generally at least. Edrik recovers from wounds and sickness just a little faster than your normal human. Edrik will also live longer than a normal human, while he is not immortal he will live for a very very long time.
The Sight: Edrik has learned to open his third eye, perceiving the magical world in great detail. The downside is that anything seen with The Sight can never be forgotten and is always vivid. The problem is that the human mind isn't always good at processing what it sees. Emotions and and relationships shine like webs. Energy pulses. Dreams and nightmares boil in the air. The past, present, and future have a little hoedown right in front of you. It's hard to make any sense of it.
Soulgaze: Edrik has the ability to gaze upon another persons soul directly – but only the first time they make more than a moment of eye contact, and only if that individual has a mortal soul and the aren't shielded or protected in some other manner. This is a double-edged sword, just as he sees into someone else they see into him. This is to see each other as they truly are, each person bares their true-self to the other getting a full measure of who each other are and what each is truly capable of. (This is something we work out before hand in a PM.)
MAGIC: Magic is life's essence. It is generated by living things, and may be thought of as akin to the concepts of Odic force and prana. However, the human heart and soul is also powerful source of magical energy. There's more magic in a baby's first giggle than any fire that a wizard can call up. Emotions are a kind of channel for magic, a path to carry energy to a practitioner.
Casting a spell as a three-step process. The first step is to gather energy. The second is to shape that energy with one's thoughts and feelings for achieving one's goal. The final step is to release the energy in the intended direction. It's like using a firearm: first one must load ammunition (gather energy), aim the weapon (shape the energy with intent), and pull the trigger (release the energy).
Mortal magic is done in one of two ways; evocation and thaumaturgy.
Evocation Evocation is the most direct, spectacular, and noisy form of magic, or sorcery. It can only happen in direct line of sight. The evocator would have to be in the same room as their victims. This type of magic is what is mainly used in direct combat situations. The ability to use it without ritual allows more focus on combat than anything else. It usually works best with a focus depending on the skills of the wizard.[While it takes a while to learn a new evocation, it has the advantage of being able to be used on the fly.
Many refer to evocation as "Quick and dirty" magic. It usually draws directly from the wizard's will and is turned loose without benefit of a guide or limit. It is dangerous and difficult but it is useful for throwing around a lot of energy. That energy is usually manifested in one of the classical elements as described below.
Air: Air is the element of motion and freedom, and most of its key effects are motion-based: powerful gales to knock over foes or throw object around, the movement of objects to the wizards hand, or shields of swirling air current to push harm away.
Earth: Earth is the element of stability, gravity, and grounding. Ultimately, everything rests on the earth, and its practitiones take advantage of thi face by calling up protective walls of stone, shaking the ground underfoot, and keeping themselves stable regardless of the surrounding circumstance. Earth is also the element that governs magnetism; earth mages often use this to their advantage, strengthening or dampening magnetic fields to achieve various effects.
Fire: Fire is the element of consumption and deconstruction, and it is the first resort for those who wish to deal massive carnage to their foes. Besides the classic image of the fireball-throwing Wizard, this element allows for a more subtle range of effects, allowing a wizard to apply or remove heat from an object or area and to melt small objects like locks or other barriers.
Water: Water is the element of entropy and change. Its chief power is changing the state of things, as water tends to do: eroding, dissolving, disrupting, decaying, dispensing, disintegrating. While many people wouldn't consider water to be a very damaging element, you have to think about the kind of insidious damage water does: dissolving stone, rusting metal, warping wood- even pummeling or s icing if it's a high-pressure jet of water. It can also flood, suffocate, assist in chemical reactions, and so on.
Spirit: Spirit is the element of the soul, the purest expression of will. In a way, it's the most ;basic of the elements – the translation of the wizard's raw desire into energy – and its presence tends to transcend different traditions of magic, being a core element in every one. Spirit effects tend to manifest as raw kinetic power, and even bend the energies around people and object to make them appear invisible.
Thaumaturgy Thaumaturgyis the process of creating magical links between objects or people. Magic flows through one object and is attached to the other. Is it often said "As above, so below. Make something happen on a small scale and feed it enough energy to happen on a large scale." Most thaumaturgy requires something to connect the object being used to the greater object, such as blood, hair or nail clippings, etc.
Thaumaturgy is the safest, most reliable method of doing magic.
Thaumaturgy sets up the Construct physically and allows the Elements to act as a lens through which theWizard then focuses his power. Because the Wizard doesn’t have to keep his construct in mind as he casts (because it’s right there in front of him), he can concentrate more on his casting and thus produce much more stable, more subtle, and stronger effects. Thaumaturgy also allows the Wizard to draw power from sources other than himself: bound spirits, forces of nature, or the assistance of others. Over time, the effects of Thaumaturgy are more powerful than those of Evocation: while a blast of fire may injure, a ritual curse can leave you and your offspring crippled for generations.
Most of the traditional spells found in tomes, or those passed down through schools of sorcery, are basically Thaumaturgy. If you follow the recipe of the spell and feed in the power it requires, the spell/ritual will work. Of course, some recipes are going to be more complex than others, and may require the use of rare/expensive items and elaborate preparations.
WEAKNESSES:. Hexing: Mortal spellcasters and technology just don't get along. When the spell start flying the tech starts frying. Objects made post WWII tend to not last long around wizards that start casting spells. Cell phones, cars, computers, and just about anything with a computer chip in it will cease to work in a Wizards presence. This means that taking Edrik to a hospital when he is injured simply isn't possible, unless you want to risk the equipment near him malfunctioning and people dying.
Fatigue: The more a wizard uses magic without resting the more fatigued he comes, both physically and mentally. The bigger and more powerful the spell that faster the wizard becomes fatigued. A wizard, if drawn to much, can actually kill themselves or, more often, render themselves unconscious because they are unable to cope with the stress magic puts on their bodies.
Backlash & Fallout: Sometimes a wizard draws more power than they can safely control. When this happens one of two things generally happen, the wizard sucks up the uncontrollable power and suffers the effects physically and mentally, becoming much more fatigued than he would have if he successfully cast the spell. This is known as backlash. The other option is fallout, in which the Wizard lets his uncontrolled energy explode out around him for some undesired effect, while this saves the wizard from Backlash it puts everything and everyone around him in danger.
Down and Dirty: Evocation is essentially combat magic. It cannot be used for the more fine things that require time and preparation. It mainly does two things; attack and defend.
Never Forget: While a Wizard Sight is a powerful thing, the things they see with it they remember forever. With perfect clarity. The psychological effects this has on the human brain can break a lesser person. If Edrik were to see something incredibly horrible with his sight it would stay with him forever, possibly driving him insane.
Name: Nicoli Ezio Salvatore Alias: D'Angelo Titles: Veiled-One, Ma'Radiim, Weapons Master, Kensai, Pathfinder Apparent Age: 30 Actual Age: 68 Gender: Male Occupation: Mercenary Demeanor: Nicoli is a man driven by his ambitions, he believes himself to be above human desires and has forsaken alcohol, sex, and drugs from his life. He tries to live a ’pure’ life not out of an attempt to reach enlightenment like so many, but because he refuses to let others have a way to exploit him.
This is not to say that Nicoli is without humor, far from it. What he finds funny most others find cruel. A sharp tongue and wit are more likely to impress him than anger him, in fact, he grudgingly respects those that can use their words like weapons.
Basic Appearance
Hair: Kept very short, and is a deep black. Facial Hair: Normally clean shaven. Sometimes seen with stubble. Eyes: Dark Blue. Build: Thin, Toned, Corded Height: 6'1 Weight: 212 .lbs Special Features: Scars all over his body, arms, and legs. (This picture was specifically designed/created for Nicoli.)
Combat Credentials
Combat Style: Nicoli is a tactical genius capable of finding even the smallest advantage offered him on the battlefield, or even create said advantage if given the opportunity. Nicoli is also an extremely fast learner that is capable of observing a particular combat maneuver just once or twice and adapting it to his choice of weapons. Nicoli is an extremely deadly warrior when one combines his ability to dissect the battlefield, thievery training, weapon skills, and Radiim technique.
Abilities
The Art of Assassination: Nicoli is well versed in how to kill and very familiar with humanoid anatomy. He is a adept at the creation and use of poisons but rarely employs the tactic. He is a master of using subtlety and misdirection in and out of combat and has honed his base senses to perfection in order to prevent himself from falling prey to his own tricks.
Weapons Master: There aren't many weapons Nicoli has seen that he can’t effectively use. Even if such were the case, his time spent with weapons would allow him to familiarize himself with it in moments and use it to it’s full capacity. These ‘weapons’ also include Nicoli’s body, fully capable of fighting off armed and armored opponents with his bare hands.
Thievery Training: Nicoli is extremely adept at many thieving skills to include lock picking, disarming traps, setting traps, disabling devices (magical and mundane), acrobatics, disguise, and more. He relies on his own skill rather than magic to get the job done, ensuring that he never loses his edge.
Alchemist (Adept): During his time with the Veiled Ones Nicoli has learned some of what it means to be an Alchemist. He can create many basic mundane items, and even some with magical or supernatural qualities.
Radiim: The technique known as Radiim is really several techniques used for one purpose. The user learns not simply the ability to block out pain, but to register it on a different level, like breathing, pain became a natural part of Nicolis life. This allows Nicoli to use and push his body to its limits before relying on the more advanced training of Radiim. The second and true purpose of the training, Nicoli has learned to control the flow and potency of his adrenaline as well as the use of his fast and slow twitch muscle fibers. While this does make Nicoli faster and stronger, capable of accessing a hundred percent of his potential, it does come at a cost. Shortened bursts of this, if used in succession make him tired and fatigued. While prolonged usage can result in permanent nerve/brain damage, a heart-attack and even death. All of this is compounded on top of the normal threats one faces in any battle.
Pathfinder: Nicoli has become an excellent tracker over the years. His keen senses and attention to detail have helped him become a Pathfinder. Nicoli is capable of tracking and making his way safely through any environment, he knows how to survive; what to eat, identify plants and animals, what to avoid when in a natural setting and other general knowledge associated with a woodsmen.
Eldritch Knowledge: Since having expanded his quarry from humanoids to all manner of beasts Nicoli has been studying and learning of the various magics sects and powers in the world. He focuses, specifically, on monstrous creatures and how to combat them. He might not know what a magic item is capable of when he comes upon it, but he knows the weaknesses of vampires, undead and other nasty creatures.
Attributes Physical Strength: Nicoli’s raw physical strength is normally of Olympian level, though within the limits of human standards.
Dexterity: This attribute covers movement speed, hand-eye coordination and flexibility. Dexterity is clearly Nicoli’s best physical attribute. He possesses perfect kinesthetic awareness, can run at a top speed of 26 MPH unaided, and tumble through the air like a gymnast.
Stamina: Nicoli rarely gets sick, he recovers from trauma faster than your average person but not at supernatural speeds. Like a world heavy-weight boxer he can get knocked down several times and keep getting back to his feet.
Social Charisma: A loner by nature Nicoli generally doesn’t come off as someone that is approachable, the general populace seems to avoid the man when the see him.
Manipulation: Nicoli is capable of manipulating through the use of knowledge, though he has a hard time empathizing with most. There are certain exceptions such as someone suffering from a tragedy that he himself as gone through.
Appearance: Nicoli is not an attractive man. His face is thin with high-cheek bones and a hard jaw-line. His face rests in a constant scowl and he makes no effort to change that.
Mental Perception: Nicoli has a very keen eye, he uses all of his senses to perceive the world around him. While he does not possess superhuman sensory his ability to use all of his senses to their maximum efficiency can make it seem like he does.
Intelligence: This is the raw power of the mind, linked to cognitive capacity. Nicoli is exceptionally gifted and learns things with ease.
Wits: This measures Nicoli’s ability to think on his feet under pressure. This is where Nicoli truly shines mentally. He can easily make leaps of logic based on intuition.
Gear
Full Description/ Info:
-- Head: N/A —Shoulders: All Weather Cloak -- Torso: Leather Armor. ---- Underclothes: Simple Dark Garments -- Legs: Leather Padding Over Simple Dark Clothing. ---- Underclothes: Simple Dark Garments -- Right Arm: Steel Bracers. -- Left Arm: Steel Bracers. -- Primary Weapon: Long Sword -- Secondary Weapon: Short Sword
-- Combat Items:
Long SwordKardia -- This long, ash grey, steel forged, and slightly curved blade has a handle of polished obsidian carved into the likes of a black bird of fire, a black phoenix. The creatures wings are folded backwards to create a guard for the hand, the head pointed downwards holding a clear gem. The wings make the swords cross guard with the hilt crafted to depict delicate feathers of flame.
Upon command the blade can change to alter its metal properties. While it is generally steel Nicoli can cause the blade to become silver, cold-iron, mithril or adamantine. Doing this does not affect the integrity of the weapon, but does effect weight.
Short SwordTooth -- This weapon appears to be crafted from the tooth of a very large carnivorous creature. It is a vibrantly white, straight, thin and wide short sword. Both sides of this wicked looking weapon are covered in many small jagged barbs that tear flesh. The hilt is a simple construct of bronze wrapped in brown faded leather. (This is the tooth of some very large carnivorous creature, the likes of which Nicoli hasn't the slightest clue.)
Once this blade tastes the blood of its victim it grants the wielder an unnaturally keen awareness of them, helping the wielder to track that person across many miles, even planes. The effect lasts until the weapon is cleansed or blood of another touches its blade.
Enchanted Armor/Cloak The leather armor that Nicoli wears is enchanted to resist the impact of weapons by half, making bludgeoning weapons much less effective against him. The cloak can, on command, aid him by magically shifting its color to match that of his surroundings.
Alchemist Fire X 2.-- The small ceramic vials burn fiercely and quickly when exposed to the air. The heat is hot enough to give third degree burns, and do much worse if not put out.
Alchemist Ice X 2-- The liquid in this vial flash freezes on contact with the air. It can freeze or greatly weaken pivotal points in structures or items made of anything but metal or stone.
Acid Vials X 2-- A mixture of chemicals, this Acid can eat through skin and wood with ease.
Holy Vial X 2.-- The small ceramic vials is filled with blessed water. Extremely effective against undead. It pairs well with Alchemist Ice if it can be flashed frozen on such a creature.
Essence of Rust x 2-- Taken from the gullet of a Rust Monster, this dust can quickly eat away at non magical metals.
Adhesive Gel Bag X 2-- This bag when thrown covers roughly a 10x10 area in a very sticky glue like substance that becomes hard like cement after a few seconds.
Smoke Bombs X 2-- When the ceramic balls are broken they release a heavy dark grey cloud that can cover a 30 feet in all directions. Winds of 15+ MPH can disperse the wind in ten seconds, while winds of 25+ disperse it in 3.
Garlic Pellets X 5— These small pea size pellets release a horrendously powerful smell when broken. Those without enhanced smell sometimes feel the urge to vomit because of its strength, while those dependent on their smell often find the effects much worse and ruined for a long period of time afterwards.
Flash Pellets X 5— Also small pellets these release a bright light when cracked open. The light last for just a brief moment, but its effects can be damaging when used in total darkness or against opponents with superior eye sight.
Glass Powder X 2— These small pouches don’t do any damage to the skin, but if caught in the eye or while breathing, they can wreak havoc while tearing through the body or when the opponent blinks.
This eighteen inch long baton his faded grey with three buttons on it. Pressing the first button releases sixty feet of rope every six seconds, up to a maximum of three hundred feet, pressing the button a second time stops it, pressing it a third time draws it back in at the same speed.
Pressing the second button produces a small leather loop from one end and a sharp grappling hook out the other. Hitting the button a second time launches one third of the rod (the end with the hooks) in the direction you aim. Up to three hundred feet trails behind the launched section, this launches it the three hundred feet in one second. Pressing the button a third time retracts the rope, drawing the held end towards the hooked end if it is securely attached. It can pull up to one thousand pounds.
When you press the third button grappling hooks sprout from each end of the rod. Pressing it again launches the two ends of the rod in opposite directions simultaneously. Three hundred feet of rope can emerge from both ends, for a total of six hundred feet. Pushing the button a third time causes the held section to be able to slide along the rope freely. Pressing it a third time retracts both ends and brings it back to is inactivated state.
There are seven charms on this jet black bracelet. Nicoli wears this bracelet as an anklet, which is hidden inside his left boot. Each charm has a different minor ability that only works when attached to the specific chain. This bracelet is given to True Veiled-Ones, with each charm showing the level of skill and rank one has achieved, with eight being the Maximum. Only the Grand Master has the final charm.
-Wizards Aid– This small charm vibrates when magic is being activated/used within one hundred feet of Nicoli. It does not pin-point or identify the magic, it merely identifies that something is being used within that range.
-Rogue Feet– This charm magically silences Nicoli’s person, it only affects Nicoli and does not extend to anyone he is touching. What’s more, is that this item has to be activated by thought and lasts for only twenty minutes at a time and needs three times that much time to recharge.
-Spider Step– As the name suggests once activated, like Rogue Feet, it allows Nicoli to stick to nearly any surface. It can only be used for twenty minutes before needing to be recharged like Rogue Feet. This is best used in small instances for brief moments at a time.
-Divine. Me. Not.– This charm is useful against prying eyes. It does not outright stop Diviners, but it makes finding Nicoli through magical means much more difficult. Normal spells will not work, and often the only way to override this charm is through complicated rituals. This protection does help, though to a very a small degree, protect Nicoli's mind from intrusion. Having a piece of Nicoli (Blood, Skin, Hair) bypasses this charm easily.
-Cloud Step– This charm has three purposes. First, it makes the user incredibly light so when falling they take little to no damage, this also allows Nicoli to leap incredibly high and finally it makes it possible for Nicoli to run across liquid surfaces. This suffers the same limitations and restraints as Spider Step and Rogue Feet.
-Shaded Face– This charm, when activated, simply causes the users skin to be covered by a black ink like substance that swirls with dark red and deep blue streaks. It masks their features to hide their identity, but offers no further protection. If it covers the face than natural darkness no longer effects eye-sight. There is no limit to the use of this charm.
-Daggered– Normally this charm, when used, makes a dagger appear in the users hand. However, since this is worn on an ankle the dagger acts as a boot dagger, and does so without damaging Nicoli’s footwear. This can be activated up to five times before needing twenty-four hours to charge.
While the name is misleading, this device fits snugly on Nicoli's face. By pressing one of the buttons around the lens it switches both lenses to the desired color. Both lenses must be fully intact for the magic to work, should one lens break the other will cease to function. While Nicoli possesses five different lenses there is room for a sixth, unknown lens.
-Clear Lens- This lens acts as a magnifying glass at close range and telescope at long range. Provided the way was clear the user of this lens could identify a persons eye-color at a half mile away.
-Red Lens– This Lens shows body heat. Nothing more and nothing less, it cannot see through walls or doors.
-Blue Lens– This Lens shows magical auras, the longer that a spell or aura is looked at the more information it gives. Up to what style or school of magic it belongs too.
-Purple Lens– Similar to the Blue Lens, this shows only what is an illusion and what is not. It does not give the ability to see through the illusion however.
-Black Lens– This black lens shows finds that which seeks to remain hidden. It can identify something as a shape changer (Though not specifically what), or undead masquerading as a human. It only aids the user in identifying what is hidden and does not give specific details.
They say that we are the products of our environment, that we are forged by our trials and tribulations. It is also said that it is in these moment, when man is at his weakest, that you see his true nature. One sees what lies beneath the façade, the lies and falsehoods we build around ourselves. That the illusions we have come to accept as reality fade away and we are left with nothing but the truth. What we, as humans, truly are.
I believe this now more than I have ever believed it in my life. Pain, suffering, loss; these are all tools that chip away at our false sense of self. You may think me a cynic, but you would be wrong. I do not see humans as the low-scum of the earth; from the lowest street urchin to the holiest of priest, I see us as equals. Equals that are lost and misguided, confused and afraid. Good and evil are but words attached to something so that we can identify it. Good and evil are merely the product of the decisions we’ve made. For what can be good to one may be deemed evil by another, there is only one universal truth.
But perhaps I should start at the beginning and when I am finished perhaps you will understand why I view the world the way I do. If you are lucky you will have the insight that I have garnered. But! And I warn you, do not mistake this insight as some universal truth, that by coming to this understanding you will become wiser, closer to knowing yourself or your deity. Because if you do, if that is what you come to know … well, then you’ve missed the entire point of my rambling.
My name is Nicoli Ezio Salvatore, I was born to Machiavelli Salvatore and a mother whose name I do not know and whom I’ve never met. I can tell you that I was born during Deep Winter, when the suns visits seem but fleeting moments and the night sky remains like an unwelcomed guest for hours upon hours. I also know that my mother, the gods bless her soul, had taken ill weeks before I was to be born. I am told that had she not been pregnant she likely would have survived child labor.
My father, being who he was, would not let any man or women of any deity come place their blessings on her. I would later come to find that he did not trust any power that was given and not earned. I know now that I am not to blame for what happened, but it took many years to reach this understanding. My father blamed me until his last days.
Whereas most fathers in mines position would take their sons and find within them a piece of the love they had just lost Machiavelli did not. I am told that after my mother’s death he did not even look upon me. I imagine that as an advisor to a King it was quite easy to say that he was too busy. There were tutors and nannies to take care of the task of raising a child.
As a young child I cannot recall seeing my father much, though I was told a great deal about him. The servants of the castle were always there to remind me of his greatness, of the importance of his task and how powerful of a Wizard he was. Yes, my father was a Wizard and the Kings adviser to all things eldritch and arcane in nature. It wasn’t until I was about seven that my father spent any real time with me, even then I now realize that it hadn’t been what you would likely say is quality time. They were tests, mental puzzles mostly. My father wanted to see if I had a gift, he had told me that he had solved each puzzle by the time he was seven.
I passed. Each puzzle brought on a new challenge, and in solving those puzzles I got to spend more time with the man I had not known. So I passed each and every test, I hungered for them. Each time I passed one more quickly then he anticipated I was given praise and every time I solved one too slowly I was faced with what he called ‘consequences’.
When I was ten I faced another test, a different sort then I had been accustomed to. This time my father taught me personally. It was the most dreadful but rewarding portion of my life. I was being taught how to wield magic, or at least I was building up to the task. There were hundreds of things to learn before I would even be allowed to attempt to conjure up my first spell. My father was a harsh teacher and he punished me with clever and sadistic magic. If I failed to remember something or repeat a word back correctly my body would be wracked with horrible pain but not a mark would be left on my skin.
I learned very quickly to not be wrong and was progressing through the studies faster than even my father had. He was pleased and all was right in the world. At least, until I failed to cast even the simplest of cantrips. No matter how hard I tried, it simply could not be done. Even my father could only bring so much pain unto a small child until his frustration caused him to quit. I was deemed a loss, a waste of time. I do not think anything had ever hurt so much.
The lessons with my father came to a halt and I was back to studying with tutors. I went back to learning history, science, math, philosophy and all the other mundane subjects that those in my privileged position had to learn. My favorite subject among them was military tactics, it reminded me of the puzzles I had solved when I was younger.
It was slightly before my thirteenth Name Day that I was required to attend a tournament the King had put on, in celebration for his own sons fifteenth Name Day, the day he became a man. It was that week of martial competition that sparked my interest in weaponry and personal combat. As was my father’s custom I was allowed to request one thing on my Name Day, all previous requests had been to spend a day with my father. This time that wasn’t what I ask for, this time I wanted to learn what I had seen during the tournament.
The very next day I began my fencing lessons and I couldn’t remember a time I had been happier. There was something about fencing that spoke to me. My father had a say in my training of course and he had the very same instructor that taught the Prince train me as well. Like a fish to water I took to it, when I wasn’t attending another class I spent my free time practicing. The lessons were far to slow for my liking and so I studied manuscripts on my own. When I say that I learn things quickly you must understand that I am not boasting, merely stating a fact, and I learned fencing at an accelerated rate even based on my own standards.
By the time my fourteenth Name Day came around I had such a firm grasp on fencing that I could defeat those that were a decade and more my senior. The very blade was an extension of my arm, yet… I wasn’t satisfied. Fencing was good for sport and duels, but in my mind it had no place in actual war. I wanted more, I wanted to learn more weaponry.
My next request was to learn to fight as the Soldiers in the Kings army do. That of course was not something my father could permit, no son of his would train with the common footman. So, I began my apprenticeship under a knight, I became a Squire. My master was the Kings own brother, Sebastian of Alexandria, who had half-a-dozen squires under him and like me they came from rich families. Unlike me they did not have the hunger to learn, the passion needed to succeed.
I did every menial task with a smile and in return I was shown basic things, like how to care for a horse, armor and weapons. I was grateful for everything I learned, and as fate would have it my Master came into the stables one late night and found me practicing with my rapier against a dummy made of straw that I constructed. His booming laughter broke me from my trance and he sauntered on over, took my rapier from me and snapped it over his knee.
From his own saddle he produced a finely crafted longsword and gave it to me. From that night on I practiced with the heavier weapon, as well as spears, flails, shields, cross-bows and any other weapon I could find in the armory. Sebastian, as he preferred to be called, made a deal with me then. If I could show as much dedication to every task I was given as I did to the sword he would train me to be the finest Knight he could. Like many times before I poured every ounce of myself into doing exactly that.
I vividly remember the other boys jealously. Some had been serving as a squire for years and I was less than a year in myself and was given special treatment above and beyond them. It seemed Sebastian was also aware of their displeasure because after a couple months of training he allowed them to challenge me, one at a time in honorable combat. I defeated each one with ease. I was always a step ahead, thinking faster than them and striking more swiftly. After that day they left me alone, probably for the best.
A year and a half as a squire, now fifteen, Sebastian was being called for war. As the Kings brother he was expected to lead his armies into combat and I would be there beside him. Surprisingly enough my father did not object. The time leading up to the War came fast and now that I think on it I do not remember seeing or hearing from my father once. Again, probably for the best.
I remember preparing to go to war, especially the drinking beforehand. I listened to the stories of old war veterans, I asked questions, wanted to know why they would try certain tactics when others were clearly better. I simply got laughed at and didn’t understand why. The sound of the horse’s hooves ringing on the cobblestone as we exited the city in a parade like manner is memory I’ll never forget. We were ushered out like we had already won, it felt good.
We traveled east, through forest and towns, over rivers and through winding mountain trails. As I was at the head of the army I did not see what sort of damage something that massive does. But let me assure you that an army traveling through the country-side is nearly as destructive as war. I at well, slept well and found time for practicing with weapons and studying. The same could not be said for the common soldier who trudged along behind on foot, but such is the benefit of being raised in a privileged position.
It was morning and the rising sun was just burning away the late night fog. We were standing at the crest of a hill, a fairly open valley lay before us. I remember looking left and right, seeing all the mounted knights in their shining plate-mail. I remember looking across to the barbarians in ragtag formations with their crude weaponry and hide armor. I remember thinking to myself that they don’t stand a chance.
After the horn sounded the very earth trembled around me, thunder it seemed had found its place among us. It was nothing like the stories, nothing at all. The screams, the smells, the sights. I am fairly certain I vomited right on the back of my horse.
It had been a slaughter, with Sebastian issuing orders from atop his mount. It had made me sick. The second, third and fourth battles were more the same, but watching became easier and easier. The barbarians lost hundreds to our tens, they lost ground and were routed at every turn as the Kings generals expertly navigated the battles.
It was those long days that I found solace in my weapon forms, in the art of what I was doing. It was so beautiful when I was doing it, nothing like the hacking and slashing I was witnessing on the field of battle. There was no art in the thick of combat, only the need to survive as I would soon find out.
On what would would be the final battle in the year long war started off as a beautiful morning. I remember waking up early, before the sun as usual, to tend to Sebastian's gear and horses. That was when the first flaming arrow struck the camp. I watched it rise into the sky before it began it's descent, I stood transfixed as it came down and to my surprise landed on the tent that I had just come out of. Shouts and screams went up around me, the panicked neighing of horses and then I heard the hissing of a thousand angry wasps, I looked up to see hundreds of flaming arrows follow similar path as the first. At this point I was no longer transfixed and I dived for cover under a wagon that had been propped up to be fixed.
I heard arrows striking the wood, but I knew I would be safe for several moments before the whole thing went into flames. That's when I saw what was happening, those same Barbarians came swooping down into the encampment but it just wasn't the poorly armored men we had been fighting along with them came beasts out of my very own nightmares.
The very trees walked in their wake, large cats strode about on two feet, powerful maws tearing at skin and claws rendering armor with ease. Within the blink of an eye I saw Sebastian, who had come out of his tent with only his sword, get attacked by two of those cat creatures. I thought him doomed, these creatures that stood as tall as a fully grown man but each one with the rippling muscles of a hunting panther.
It wasn't until I was swinging a sword of my own that I realized what I was doing. I hamstrung the first creature and when the second looked away for a moment Sebastian ran him through with his sword and then pulled forth a dagger to plunge into back of the one I had crippled. I remember the look of approval he had given me then and despite the terror I felt it was a look that said more than any words could have.
Sebastian and I each took our swords and a buckler and began to retreat, towards where we knew the mages we had brought would be fighting. I saw the first flashes of lightning and fire before we had made it a hundred feet. That was where the attack was concentrated, where the fighting was the thickest. I charged in behind Sebastian not because I was brave, but because I was afraid of what might happen if I left his side.
I can not tell you personally what happened at that point. The fray of combat was chaotic and despite my own thoughts on 'the art' of battle, I was hacking and slashing my way forward, instinct and the few years of training taking over. It's true, what they say, you fight how you train. When you have nothing left you fall back on what you know.
We made it to the mages, three of the five were still alive and so Sebastian, myself and several others formed a ring around them, to try and give them time. Time for what I was not sure, but Sebastian believed that only they could save us and I trusted his judgment.
The fighting ceased then and the barbarians and creatures of the forest stepped back, we were surrounded, and I could only assume everyone but us had been slaughtered. Then, from among them, a single black clad figure emerged, and in his hands he held a finely crafted staff so powerful that even I could see the gem on top pulsating, warping the area around it.
He waved a hand and one of our mages dropped to the ground, gurgling as maggots erupted from his mouth. It was then that Sebastian threw a dagger he had been keeping concealed, though that action cost him his life, the dagger spun end over end and though it missed its marked, deflected by some unseen force, it pulled the hood from the dark figures face.
To my horror, both in seeing Sebastian filled with arrows resembling a pin-cushion and that the dark hooded figure was my father. There are no real words to describe what went on in my mind at the time. It was a shock, I did not feel like me, I felt as if I was a hundred feet above myself staring down at the scene below me.
When I snapped back to reality I looked around and noticed that everyone but me was dead or dying, arrows protruding from throats, eyes and hearts. I heard my father speak to me and then he barked something in another language. I was beyond words then, I felt numb inside as I struggled to digest all of this information.
I realized after a moment that I was be pitted against someone, a boy the same age as me only he was dressed as my father and carried a similar staff, though his held no gem at the top. My father patted him on the shoulder, smiled and spoke, he whispered words of encouragement to him. I remember him pointing his staff at me and that I was struck by an unseen force, lifted off the ground and hurled back onto the bodies of the dead, of the mages we had tried to protect.
Lightning was next, it sprang from his finger-tips and danced across my skin. I could smell burnt flesh as he roasted me. Blood welled in my mouth as I bit my tongue from convulsion. I laid their for what seemed an eternity to me. The numbness I had been filling rushed out of me and was filled with a rage of the likes which I had never known, it brought clarity, gave me a sense of purpose. I was angered at the death of Sebastian, of the knights and footmen around me. I was angry at the betrayal of my father, but most of all I was furious that this boy no older than I stood where I should have been, that I had been so easily replaced.
As the boy drew closer to no doubt strike me down I rushed to my feet and tackled him. He might have had magic, but I knew that only the most powerful wizards, like my father, could use spells without speaking. So, without a weapon in hand and too afraid to relinquish my hold on the young mage I did the only thing I could think of. I ripped out his throat with my teeth.
I remember standing and watching the boy die with an emotional detachment that would later frighten me. I spit a chunk of flesh from my mouth and looked up to see my father staring at me, eyes wide and face white, I believe he shook with furry. I remember smiling back.
He raised his own staff to strike me down but a clawed hand appeared on his shoulder and one of the large bi-pedal feline creatures spoke in firm words to him. I watched as the attention shifted from me to my father, something was happening then, something I didn't understand.
I learned later that the Kesh'la'tar, the name the feline creatures gave to themselves, declared that I had won my freedom by a trial of combat and was free of harm while I remained in their lands. That my father, by initiating a one on one dual, had invoked one of their great laws of war. I had earned my freedom. But freedom to go where? I knew that I alone survived and that once I left the battlefield I would be struck down and that there would be nothing I could do about it.
It is then and there that my time among my own people ended, I decided to stay in the safety of the woods. Unfortunately I did not understand the Kesh'la'tar's customs and by staying I submitted myself as a prisoner of war, and as such I would become a slave and remain so for five years and a day to the day of the battle. So, on the next morning my five years and a day as a slave began.
At sixteen years old I was well aware of what slavery was and I dreaded the thought of it. I knew how cruel humans could be, so I thought rationally only the gods knew how cruel these beast walking as men could be. These creatures, whom I'd seen nearly rip men in half with their bare hands. I was awake all night thinking that perhaps letting my father kill me would have been the better of the options before me.
I woke with the rising sun, to the Kesh'la'tar or Kesh as I learned to call them, I learned that the sun rising signified a new beginning, a fresh start. So my new life started clean, yesterdays events were put behind them. To my surprise my day started out like it had many times before, I was set to do tasks. The first of which was to retrieve water from a nearby waterfall.
Not a single task I was given was menial or cruel, each one was with purpose and would either better the whole of the clan or myself. The Kesh were not petty creatures. Vicious? Certainly. Barbaric as far as I was concerned, but they were not without a sense of honor.
Day in and day out I performed these tasks. I learned that as a prisoner of war I belonged to the clan chief and that as his only he could issue me tasks and punish me. I was like a ghost among them, not spoken too or noticed. The opposite was not the same, I watched them closely, trying to learn their strange customs. The Kesh warriors were fascinating to me and nearly every Kesh was a warrior, unless too young, too old or crippled. They fought with claws and teeth, some used weapons made of bone or other natural material and these were more a symbol of status than a tool for killing, and were never used on one of their own.
Their chief, Kor'ne'tuel, which translated to Black Sun Summer, noticed that I took more than a passing interest in his people and he responded in kind by taking interest in me. I was invited once every cycle of the moon to eat dinner with him under the full moon, where he asked me questions of his own people then of my own.
I first thought that he was trying to learn secrets, find a way he could defeat human armies in combat. After the third time I pushed that notion aside and understood that he was teaching me, trying to guide my thoughts so that I found my own answers. I now realize that he was teaching me how to think, which questions were important and which weren't.
Two years passed by and despite being a slave, or what they called Huin'tal which meant White Wanderer, I was enjoying the simplicity of life. I knew what tasks I had to perform and I did them because I wanted to, not because I would be beat like the slaves of humans. Actually, the Kesh do not physically harm Huin'tal, instead they have them perform a task for varying lengths of time.
My first offense, dropping a bucket of water, had me standing under the crashing waterfall for a night so that I could better understand the importance of water, and respect it. My second offense, which came when I became to comfortable and said words I should not of, had me standing one legged on a pole until the sun finished its path through the sky.
These punishments allowed time for reflection, but I saw them as challenges and told myself if I failed I would be allowing them to think they were better than me. Like the puzzles presented before me as a youth I did not allow myself to fail.
It was after two years that the frequency I met with their Chief increased, and our meetings went from simple conversations to practical exercises and to explanations on their culture, in response I explained the difference in our people and went as far as to explain the concept of slaves. To which he laughed deeply and commented on the waste of such energy.
When you spend years with someone you can't help but find things you like and dislike, when you spend years in a foreign culture you have no choice but to adapt to survive. It wasn't in my nature to be ignorant and so I adapted and found myself thinking as one of them at times, I thought less of myself.
While cleaning near the end of the day I bared witness to the same barbarian men that I had fought a couple years back enter the camp, though I merely looked upon them slight interest, none of the hate I had felt before resurfaced even though I felt it should have. In confusion I followed them to the Chiefs hut and it was then that I learned that Alexandrias army was on the march again, this time it was being lead by the same dark wizard that had allied with them in the past.
I was rather foolish and wasn't thinking when I rushed into their meeting, mouth opening to speak before realizing what I had done. One of the barbarians bared his teeth and raised his hand to strike me, though his hand was halted by one of the silent guards near the entrance. I was Huin'tal, and I was not to be touched or acknowledged by any except the Chief.
To my surprise the Chief invited me to his side and gave me permission to speak. It seemed he knew what I was going to say before I did. This was my first real act of betrayal and it was difficult to speak at first, but gradually my words came faster and faster and I found myself drawing out formations on the maps, explaining military tactics. I spoke for hours, my throat too parched to say another word when I finally looked up.
The barbarians looked at me in disbelief while the Kesh were doing what I can only describe as smiling. I had laid out everything I could for them, every detail I had ever known and studied. It had poured out of me like a flood. The only wild card I explained, was my father. I simply did not know the extent of what he could do and I felt a twinge of regret because of that.
I was sent back to my duties after that out-burst, but every night from there on out I was invited back to the Chiefs tent and we would speak in detail of combat. Not things simply relating to the oncoming war, but of its every essence, it's necessity. He showed me how the Kesh fought, with their hands and teeth, hit and run tactics and how to move in silence.
Weeks passed and I saw a variety of forest creatures coming to greet the Chief. More Kesh and even stranger bi-pedal animal like beings. Stranger still were the faerie, with their beautiful complexions and gossamer wings. Their tallest stood a head shorter than me and they appeared frail to the touch, I was mesmerized by their beauty.
Then like what happened nearly three years ago I went out towards battle, only this time I had real reason to fight, I knew what to expect. I acted as an adviser to the Chief and ran supplies and messages to his warriors, I felt apart of something.
The day finally came when the first battle was soon to be underhand, this time we rode out to meet them and fight on a ground of our choosing. There would be no skirmishes, the Kesh wanted to end this in one decisive victory.
I stood like I had before, on a hill-top above the battle, except this time I was not merely watching but calling out my advice to the Chief. We countered Alexanrias every move, tactically we were always a step ahead of them. Until the mages entered the fray. No matter our course there was magic to counter our counters, so we retreated back into the woods so that the Kesh and allies could fight using their skirmishing methods.
That night I found my destiny once again changing hands, I woke to a hand clasped over my mouth. When I took a breath in panic I realized that I also inhaled whatever the hidden man had been holding, I faded to unconsciousness hearing the deafening roar of the Chief as he threw himself into battle against his assailants.
I awoke sometime later, chained to a wall in what I knew to be a dungeon. I knew then that I was in a city, likely Alexandria. I was certain that magic had played a part in getting me there so quickly and my suspicions were confirmed moments later when my father emerged from the shadows, flanked by two men wrapped in ink like darkness that swirled about their forms.
When I looked upon his face I realize that I felt next to nothing for the man. Anger and fear were there, but barely noticeable, only pity remained for him. Pity that he could not see how things how I did, that he could not understand what I did.
I have explained that my father is a Wizard of the highest caliber, but I have not explained exactly what that means or what sort of feats he is capable of. I did not understand the scope of his abilities either, but I would soon learn them.
My father wanted my knowledge, he wanted me to give him what I had given the Kesh. I refused of course. Even his attempts to torture the information from me were met with the steely resolve and determination that he had taught me as a youth. But there was something else he could do, he had a magic that I had never witnessed. He could enter ones mind and do what he wanted.
While I resisted his magical intrusions the best I could there was little I could do against his pervasive magics. It hurts me to say that in the end he got what he wanted, he reached into my mind and tore the information from me at the risk of mentally crippling me. I do not know if you've had information ripped from your mind, but I assure you that you have never undergone that sort of pain, there are no words for it.
I was a gibbering wreck, worth nothing to him and something that he would have likely disposed of had those shrouded men at his side not spoken up. They knew my story and with how wrecked and broken I was they deemed that I could be molded into something formidable. If Machiavelli would grant them this request they would consider the payment he owed them fulfilled. He agreed and so I was handed over as a broken man.
One thing you must understand is that while I paint a clear picture to you now it wasn’t the case at the time. My father was a powerful wizard, as I have told you many times, but he was especially powerful with enchantments. I wasn’t simply handed over to these men cloaked in darkness my father first used magic to scramble my memories, cover some up and rearrange others. More than that though, he stripped me of my very identity. That night I died for the first time, Nicoli was no more.
I should also remind you that at the time I was but a sixteen year old boy. By the standards of the day I was a man, old enough to die in war, but I really knew very little of the world at the time. I was handed over as a blank canvas, or perhaps a better analogy would be that I was but a stone block that could be chipped away until I became what they needed.
They fed me lies of course, about who I was and how I’d come to be in their family. It was explained to me that I would need to do undergo their training all over again, so that they could make sure that I hadn’t forgotten their ways. These were the Veiled-Ones, a sect of hired killers that were infamous for their efficiency at killing as well as their Radiim technique.
Those early days wit the Veiled-Ones were strange, even by my standards. I was more akin to the sort of sentient constructs that mages created than to any human. My new masters cared nothing for the sort of academic knowledge my father had, they cared about one thing only. How proficient of a killer could I become?
My fathers techniques were, thankfully, not perfect. I still retained my instincts, my fine motor skills and eventually a drive to succeed that surpassed what I had shown before. I had nothing holding me back at the time, no history with which to compare events and no experiences to learn from. I was little more than an animal that could speak.
I'm sure you can imagine some of the horrors that a secret organization with no morals and facing no repercussions would force someone to do. I can not and will not go into the specifics, because I still hold loyalty of some sort to them and do not wish to bring down their wrath. But, I can describe to you some of what I felt during the Radiim process.
If you've read my ramblings this far you know that I am no stranger to pain, but at this point in my life it was not so much that you would think anything of it. But, pain was soon to take on an entire new meaning to me. The Radiim were masters of torture and the scars that my body bares are a testament to that.
The Radiim prefer the traditional methods of torture. That is to say that they usually did not use magic on their victims unless it was for the purpose of keeping them alive. They started off small, by lighting my left hand on fire and forcing me to watch as I screamed in horrible agony. I watched the skin charcoal and melt away, I saw tendons melt. Still, it was nothing compared to the process of healing that occurred after.
After a certain amount of time the body simply detaches itself from the pain, ignores it. It can't handle that much pain, it's a shock to it and enough pain can mentally cripple worse than a physical injury. This is the line that the Radiim rode and often times crossed , one in five victims became useless at some point and were disposed of as failures.
Days became weeks, weeks to months and months to years. I did more than endure their training, I welcomed it. Over those years I realized I was different then most. When I was tortured I did not cry out for a deity, nor my parents or anything at all. My shouts were simply those of pain. I never wished to make pacts with dark powers to make the pain stop or threaten my torturers.
Do not think I did not cry out, my tears, pain and blood were all as real as the man next to me. But I always asked one question. Why? To which I always got some response, a calm and measured answer that explained that question no matter how many times I asked it.
'Why' became mine, I asked it always and always got an answer. I found a certain comfort in that knowledge. My words might not make sense to you, but if you ever become someones captive you will understand how important the small things are.
Mundane torture gave way to magical torture and that eventually gave over to spiritual torture. I am sure you are asking how can ones spirit be scarred and tortured, and I would tell you if I could. But I assure you that my soul is no less scarred than my body.
The torture was done not because the Veiled-Ones were sadistic or evil, though I will not argue any of those points. But they were in preparation for what was to come. They taught in mastering the body through pain, purification through sacrifice of flesh. It was only once those that completed their initial training and had made the needed sacrifices could they learn to master themselves, to break down the self-imposed limits and reach your true potential.
Once I realized this and understood it, once I saw the effects of the training and the different levels of skill that were involved I latched on. This was something else I could latch onto, I could make my own and individualize myself based on technique and skill.
When you train as a Veiled-One there is no end, no light at the end of the tunnel. Merely steps that the Grand Master sets before you when he feels you are ready. He alone will come to you and guide you on your path, and rarely are two paths ever the same.
So it was that he came to me after my many years of being forged. He was a man that wasn't simply shrouded in shadow, to me he seemed to be built of them. I recall that he was never seen in more than the light of a torch. But what sticks out most was his mere presence, it was humbling. I averted my eyes, took a knee or bowed out of pure instinct. He was my better in every way. The seniors often referred to him as The Watcher because of how often they would come upon him doing just that. One moment there was nothing there and the next he would be standing there watching the training, though he never spoke at those times.
But, let me go back to what had meant to say about the first time he approached me. I remember him laying an ungloved hand on my shoulder, then on my cheek. He did not say anything but all others in the room had turned to give him their attention, then in barely a whisper that echoed with power he spoke.
“D'Angelo is ready.”
When those words were spoken he removed his hand and walked away, back into the shadows. I had been named and proclaimed ready by the Grand Master, that same day I was shown to a new sleeping quarters where eighteen others like myself lived. I was given my first charm, shown to the armory where I could outfit myself and then sent on my first task.
Nicoli Ezio Salvatore, better known as D’Angelo which meant the Bringer of Angels, leaned against the outside of a wooden building at the entrance to a dark alley. It was littered by refuse and the homeless, the sort of alley that mothers warned their children not to go down and guardsmen didn’t bother with. This alley was one of many that coursed through the city in an interwoven web of passages that most folk ignored. The alleys had likely been streets long ago, but now they were too small and narrow, dark and buildings had been erected to form jagged turns and dead-ends that no cart could navigate safely.
Too someone like D’Angelo it was a means of transportation, a way to get to one end of the city quickly and a place where City Guards would not enter without force. To D’Angelo it was a refuge and presented the true nature of the city. He lingered on the edge of that haven now, his cloak pulled around him with the cowl low to hide his dark eyes. The cloaks magic worked well to blend him in with the drab and dreary colors of the city though he probably didn’t need it, hidden and unmoving as he was in the shadows the casual passer-by wouldn’t notice him without close inspection.
The sun had just descended below the horizon, but its rays still casted oranges and reds across the sky. Though the sun’s rays would surely dwindle as the stars became more and more apparent against the darkening curtain. They did so with no moon this night and clouds on the horizon promised a beautiful summer storm in the hours to come, but would surely block what light they would give.
Knowing that a thunder storm was only hours away D’Angelo wanted to finish this quickly, he hated the rain. It made everything more difficult, heavier and sluggish. It slickened roofs and cobblestone alike, cut visibility and simply made the environment miserable. This contract was unlike others though, it was not an assassination, but rather an invite to meet on the open street and settle things. D’Angelo represented an offended party, whom exactly he did not know (or care), it was a job like anyother.
The Veiled-Ones had been hired to deliver a message and while D’Angelo was better suited than most to meet in ‘fair’ combat, others of his organization were taking steps to ensure his targets family, friends … or something of the sort, he couldn’t remember exactly, were being held. A letter had been sent to his target, explaining where and who to meet and that the information needed to save his loved ones was on D’Angelo’s person. A rather ham-fisted approach as far as D’Angelo was concerned, but generally effective.
MurderVictim
Marlowe
Noctis
autumoon
Tyler Night
Lewascan2
