Lotaria: Divided

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Lotaria.png


Lotaria’s Timeline

Year 1: The city of Aron is born upon the plains. The king, Aron Terumpian, rules justly and serves the people.

Year 29: Aron begins northern expansion, spearheading the exploration are a group of elite warriors.

Year 31: Aron forces run headlong into heavy resistance, as they enter a neighboring country known as Atore, which is governed by King Malcom Tierce III.

Year 33: Fighting escalates and is pushed closer and closer to Atore’s capital city by the same name.

Year 40: The war, known in later years as The War Of The Steps, boils down to a spark and fighting is mutually given up, until both country’s forces can stand further combat.

Year 50: Aron ends Northern Expansion and signs peace treaty with Atore, the countries turn from good enemies to good friends. Trading begins with the two countries, the goods furnished by the lands between the two kingdoms.

Year 210: Civil unrest, due to a food shortage and the overall disgust of the nobility, ends with the execution of King Aron III. Aron falls into a state of anarchy.

Year 211: King Malcom Tierce V invades the now fractures lands of Aron and meets with minimal resistance. However King Malcom soon realizes that the people will not suffer a foreign ruler and so it is declared that any and all acts malice against the crown will be punished with the immediate sentencing of a life of hard labor in the Mines, Fields and Forests.

Year 230: The unwilling workers in the Mines, Fields and Forests revolt and slay their captors. They begin the slow and agonizing act of rebellion.

Year 235: Atore’s army meets with a heavily armed and armored freed slaves and is routed in what came to be called the Battle of Athos. King Anthony Borelias retreats northward with his personal guards and those forces left behind and too weak to stop the hordes of angry Aronians.

Year 238: Aron is liberated.

Year 250: King Anthony Borelias of Atore is murdered in his bedchambers, without a trace.

Year 251: Atore demands retribution.

Year 253: The Plague Of Men

Year 260: Civilization crumbles under the destructive power of the Plague. The clustered humanity inside the walls of the city of Aron leave the city too late, for they all are infected with The Plague of Men. They make their way south along a river which was named, The River of Sorrows.

Year 261: History is lost.

Year 380: Plague slackens, leaving billions dead and many sick.

Year 400: Aron begins to rebuild.

Year 426: Aron fully rebuilds, only by pressing women and children into labor.

Year 430: The plague gone and the middle land, between the cities of Atore and Aron, begins to rebuild on its own. The leaders of the scattered tribes convene at the spot that will soon be known to the world as Halien. The land is rich with the bounties of the earth and the country flourishes.

Year 450: Atore is fully rebuilt aswell and begins to muster it’s armies and plan it’s conquest of the southern reaches.

Year 451: Atore marches and unexpectedly meets the Halien armies in a tremendous clash of arms. This battle would be known as The Battle of Regret.

Year 453: Aron, Atore and Halien meet in the Gulf of Aron and discuss terms for a treaty. All parties sign and so began the Age of Peace.

Year 704: Age of Peace ends with the sudden fire attack on the city of Garrison, by an elite group of Aronian soldiers. The attack is pinned on Halien, apparently Aron is looking to grab the vast natural resources of the reigon.

Year 705: Total War.

Year 707: A possible treaty is overturned on the high seas and a vast sea battle ensues.

Year 710: Aron loses its king, George Huitariat II and is left, easy prey for the unstoppable might of the Atoreian navy.

Year 712: Fighting draws to a stalemate, as the rebellious men of Aron continually make life difficult for the occupation, as the might of the Halien Cavalry keep their country free.

Year 715: Unofficial end to violence is called, as Halien caravans are allowed onto Aronian and Atoreian soil.

Present Day



Myths and Legends


The Seven stones of angus the Just


The war between Atore and Aron had been raging for many a year, when the mighty armies of Atore swept into Aron and began their orgy of pillage. The occupiers began with the organized looting of the Aronian capital city. Aronian bodies piled high in the streets, men, women and children stayed in their poverty stricken homes and died of starvation, before they would face the hordes of Atoreian soldiers outside their doors. The sheer evil of the acts committed in those years of occupation will forever be seared into the hearts, minds and souls of the human beings who survived the long years of occupation. The vileness of it seared into the very city itself.



During the occupation and beautiful woman, one with a husband and daughter, was forced to leave her home. Her husband had came down with the sickness and she had no choice but to find food and water for her daughter, while they watched their benefactor helplessly die. Tears streamed down the woman’s face and she wept openly, as she navigated the narrow streets of Aron, piled high with the stinking bodies of the foreign oppression.


On this same day and looting party had went out from Castle Aron with the express purpose of bringing back blood. They found the beautiful, mourning woman and they took her. The looting patrol Took her back to Castle Aron and away from the bosom of her family. None know how long the woman was forced to live in the castle, but it was some time before she was thrown, unconscious over the high walls and into the moat surrounding Castle Aron.


Angus the Just, a retired magesmith, had lived in the filth and squalor of Aron since the beginning of the occupation. He had a valuable skill, but since the death of his wife, Eliane, he had refused all work and was now hungry, tired and angry to his very soul. Angus the just found the body of the beautiful woman, beaten, bloodied and marred and he could not let her drown in the moat, instead he pulled her out and took her away to his home.


He cared for her there for many weeks, giving her all the food she needed and going without himself. It took the beautiful woman two weeks to wake from her coma and in that time something had snapped deep inside of her and she was mad.


Seeing this, Angus the Just could not help but cry, as the woman told of her savage attacks, rapes and trespasses. The just man was angered to his very soul for the poor wretch that now lay on his bed, too gone to think, but too alive to stop spouting out her encounters.


With her words burning brightly in his mind, as if they were seared into his very soul, Angus the just went to his smithy and fired up the magic laid within. He retrieved seven plain stones from the ground and over seven days he worked them all. In the seven days he worked, the woman upon his bed began to come back to herself, but only enough to begin eating and drinking on her own. She still could not stop her mind from reciting all the injustices committed upon her once beautiful, but now scarred and ugly features.


In seven days, the talented magesmith poured all of his heart and soul into the seven plain stones. His tears wetted them and his blood quenched them, his sweat forged them and his mind merged them.


Honor


Justice


Strength


Sanity


Vengeance


Will


Cunning


With these gifts, the woman received her justice.


Now, these items of great power are lost, scattered throughout Lotaria upon the fore winds. To this day it is still said that the spirit of the woman wanders the streets of Aron and that she gives these gifts only to the woman she finds deserve them.



The death of a legend


Upon the hell that was the battlefield, a monstrously large man stomped about, smiting the weak Aronians. He stood ten feet high and his skin was as hard as the lving granite of the mountains. In his arms he held a great sword, large enough to run through a fully grown battle steed and sharp enough to cut through glass.


Free aronian men scattered before his overwhelming might, all but one. The leader of the rebellion stood his ground, a mighty sword of his own grasped in his hands.


“I am Telarian, son of Hithadrel, I will be the death of you giant.” His voice bellowed over the roar and clatter of intense combat.


“I will decorate the inside of my tent with your skin, worm.” The giant’s voice was so great that the battle stopped completely, as the two heroes met in a terrible struggle.


The duel raged, for hours. The sky above crackled with the unleashed fury of all the gods and the rain began to pelt down in unrelenting sheets, thick enough to drown in. Yet the heroes continued their titanic struggle. Like two mastodons of old, the pair crashed together again and again. Their swords flashed in wide arks and sparks flew from the enchanted blades as they met in a storm of witch fire.


It was then, that Telarian, son of Hithadrel fell under a crushing blow. The human frame of the Aronian champion was crushed, but before the eyes of all who watched and great blue light immediately issued forth from the fallen hero and attacked the Atoreian invader’s very minds.


The intense sounds of pain beyond all measure came forth from the throngs of atoreians, as the very mind of Telarian spewed forth from the physical realm and shredded through their very souls. The sound for retreat came from the horn of a Atoreian and the great armies of Atore fell under the swords, arrows and magic of the Aronians, but at the cost of many deaths.


Including, the death of a legend.


The swords of great might


During the Plague of Man, the great stone and magesmith Gonorian retreated deep into the Range of the gods, from the mighty Atoreian capital, which was already becoming foul with the stench of thousands of corpses.


The smith travelled for many days, until he came upon a small opening in the ground. Curious and hopeful, the man went inside to find a great forge standing in the midst of a pool of molten lava. The magical forge simply glowed red hot, beckoning the smith and, loving his trade more then all else, he could not resist the temptation.


Taking a sword from a nearby rack, the smith went to work on it. He would do this much in the next month.


In a turn of the moon, the smith had created ten mighty swords, fit for any kings and crafted to perfection. Each held a great magical potency that was enough to stop an entire rushing army with a single bolt, dead in their tracks.


The smith was pleased with his work, so much so that he was giddy with it. Until a great evil voice emanated from deep within his forge “I am pleased with your work for me.”


With mounting anger, the blacksmith stood to his full height and yelled out into his forge “I built these blades for me and none other!”


Just as the last word from his came from his mouth and terrible roar came from deep within the earth and a great red and black arm shot out of the very lava itself and latched onto the front of the smith’s tunic.


The smithy screamed and begged for mercy from the gods, as the great arm pulled him closer and closer to his fiery doom. He called upon all he had ever been taught, upon mercy, upon justice and he appealed to the very earth itself to stop this evil from being perpetrated upon him, but greed had motivated the smithy and the gods did not complain as the great red and black arm pulled the smithy into the heart of hell itself.


Those ten swords of great might now wander the countryside. They have minds of their own and when they decide, they leave their current owners. These blades were touched by the devil himself and corrupted from instruments to stop evil, into a cruel mockery of it. They hold great power, but only to those with no qualms for dealing with the great devil himself.



 
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DeletedUser


Atore

Atore was, before all of it’s resources were put into great war machines that ate human life with stunning efficiency, a peaceful green place. Here, people from all over Lotaria would come to build their lives, homes and businesses in a place that was fair and righteous. But those days are long gone now, lost in the long maze of fear, sadness, frustration and anger that lead to the massive armament of the country, now there is no green, but for the trees at the very edge of their border with the unknown lands to the north and west of them. The ground is scorched permanently, the result of a deal with a powerful, and some say evil, mage.

As in every other kingdom of Lotaria, power filters down from the king and queen, touching the nobles and gentry generously, before oozing down upon the myriad dukes, counts and duchesses and finally collecting in a stinking pool at the feet of the common people. While they hold great power over the kingdom and the way things are in Lotaria, the nobility refuses to act in anything, but their constant game of politics. They would sooner fight a dual over a wrongful glance at a lady of the court then for their multitude of conquered land and so, they are utterly useless.

Atore’s great walled cities are both its greatest strength and its greatest bother, for the sickness is rampant in what the nobles called ‘The Lowers’. The Lowers were the low class sides of their great walled cities, where those who could not afford housing in The Uppers were forced to live in shacks with their own excrement. In these places, roving street gangs called Guilds ran things, none left their homes to get food, water or warmth without their say so. All who disobeyed the Guilds died horrible and indignant deaths. Orphaned children were pressed into service as ‘Guild Grunts’ and any who made it out of their purgatory to adulthood were permanently scarred husks of what they could have been. Rumors had it that the guilds encouraged the Guild Grunts to fight with each other, for they were not paid enough to make their guild dues on their own, some children sold themselves into perverted prostitution, while others murdered and some begged. Things were not good in The Lowers.

However, out in the fields and valleys of the country things were just as bad, but in a different way. Villages ban together to pool their limited resources, but each month food becomes scarcer and harder to find. The charred earth not having any bounty left to give forth to the starving peasants, who are forced for survival, to bury their nobility and do what they must, which includes the greatest of sins against humanity. The only thing that stops Atore from starving to death is the trade caravans of Halien and their loot from the conquered places of Aron.

Atore stands upon the edge of a knife, their military is spread too thin currently to do any real fighting against Halien, who’s military is still as strong as it has ever been, having stayed out of the great fighting between Aron and Atore, if the country strayed but a little it would fall, to the ruin of all.


Halien

Rich in natural resources and blessed with the laborers to gather it, Halien is now the greatest power in Lotaria. From their humble beginnings, during the Plague of Men, when the people of the land between Atore and Aron began to colonize and pool their resources, to now when they have a standing army of a hundred thousand souls and five hundred mages. Atore fears their might and the Aronian rebels hope to gain their help to throw off the chains of oppression they have been fighting against for so long.

Halien’s big cities are placees of commerce. People who have fled the great cities of Atore and the now pillaged Aron came to Halien’s fortress cities and the nobility, with their great foresight, gave all the chance to become a citizen and to begin work immediately, almost all who entered the city accepted, the few who didn’t were sent on their way. With a great increase of workers, the Haliens were able to increase their industry. Now, standing on the brink of annihilation, Atore will be forced to either roll over and submit to Halien, or begin a war that they will be hopeless to win.

As in Atore and Aron, the power in Halien filters down, through the monarchy, nobility and then the upper classes, finally touching the hearts of the common people. Only, instead of scorning those without the privileges they were born to, the nobility in Halien instead are kind to their people and in turn, they are good workers for the nobles. There is little, if any dissent in the kingdom of Halien, everyone is happy and none are starving, so the governing powers have gained an unshakable following and will soon decide whether to march onto the world stage and take the reins of Atore’s vast, but quickly crumbling empire, or to stay in their homes, businesses and fields, in peace.

Aron

With nearly their entire nobility wiped out in the opening raids on their capital, what is left of the Aronians have fled south to the forests upon the Gulf of Aron. There, what is left of the Aronian’s great armies strike out at the oppressive Atoreians, while their diplomats head northward to speak of a great treaty with the King, Queen and nobles of Halien. Each arm of Aron hopes to be successful, but each fear what will come about, if they should fail.

Aron is, like Halien a lush paradise of natural resources, with mountains to the east and a great forest to the west, Aron easily rose from the fires of the Plague of Man, as Halien did. Now, wood stokes the fires of rebellion and the stone they seize from the oppressors goes into building sturdy fortifications in their impenetrable woods.
In the oppressed cities of Aron, the people live in fear. The Atoreian’s travel from hovel to hovel each day, stealing whatever they decide is too valuable for the peasants. The street people who dwell in the dark places created by the press of rotten board against filthy gravel and human waste, are, as the people in Atore proper to commit the most grievous trespasses against nature for sustenance. Children are torn, weeping from screaming mothers and taken away to some fate worse than death. The Atoreians demand a protection tax from the masses, but seize all of value they see, so there are regular beatings and other abuses done on the huddled hordes of Aron.

The Land’s Professions
Soldiers: These brave men march into battle without a second thought, throwing their future to the fore winds for a cause they believe in.
The Shadows: Trained in the ways of death, these men have enough magic to swath themselves in layers of shadow, in essence becoming invisible, as he sneaks to his target and assassinates them with a mix of sword, magic and poison. These men are notoriously unstable, all come from troubled backgrounds and their very minds are scarred permanently from the act of cold hard murder.
Nobles: From Duke to Count and even the Earls, these people are those that inhabit the castles, chateaus and lakes. They are incredibly crafty and scheming, from a life of political intrigue and the like. These people are known to Hire The Shadows to destroy those who oppose them on any front and there is some debate on if they are more heartless then The Shadows who do the dirty work.
Blacksmith: Strong of mind and body, these common folk have lived their lives in the blast furnace of labor and have come out on the other side, good morale men. They shrink at the thought of taking human life, but if their homes, businesses and families are in danger, their bulk will shake the walls and their anger will be made clear.
Magesmith: Unlike their steel working brothers, Magesmiths are short of strength, but their minds are vast and their magic is strong. They have also lived in the furnace of labor and have been found worthy to live through the experience.
Merchants: Silver tongued devils who will happily sell their grandmothers the cane needed to stand and walk. These men are devious and greedy, but are good to have on your side, when you need money to change hands. It’s a calculated gamble.
Commoners: Those poor street urchins, forced into a life of whoring, murder and savagery. They are gifted survivalists, without qualms on tearing the bread from a babies mouth, or taking their pleasure from those who can’t stop them.
Character Sheet
Name: (What do they call you, master?)
Age: (How many winters have you seen?)
Profession: (You may have two of these; however, you cannot be a Commoner and a Noble or a Noble and a Common Soldier. The professions just don’t fit. You are now in the company of nobility, either by your job, or your title, make your words count.)
Weapons: (You must tell me of all the weapons you have on your person.)
Appearance: (My eyes fail me, so tell me what you look like.)
Bio: (What’s your story then?)
 

DeletedUser25825

Name: Aela
Age: 19
Profession: Commoner: Court Jester/Personal Bodyguard
Weapons: Two throwing knives, three stone juggling balls
Appearance: Aela's features are sharp and chiseled, akin to the nobility she mingles amongst. She is shorter than average for females, and possesses the lithe, athletic form befitting an acrobat. She is most often seen in court dressed in a motley array of white and black clothing, which are the colors of the noble Halien house she serves. Her face and hands are painted white with an assortment of black diamonds and circles. The only thing sharply contrasting her overall dress is a mop of fiery red hair, which often escapes from underneath her white and black jester's cap.
Bio: Aela is originally from The Lowers of the Atorian capital city. She was pressed into service of feats of acrobatics and juggling on street corners by Wert, one of the Guildmasters, until he felt she would reach a more suitable age to be put into the service of pleasuring men in exchange for money. She was quite agile, and managed to avoid trouble on several occasions. On one of these occasions, a delegation from Halien was passing by and she was noticed by a man named Gideon. Gideon was impressed as much by her agility and sense of balance, as by her seeming grace in the squallor she lived in. He bought her from Wert, and she was taken to Terani. She was grateful to have been taken away from a certain short life filled with misery, humiliation, and worse. In gratitude, she faithfully served her family however needed. Gideon was the personal bodyguard of the baron of her noble family, and master of a near forgotten fighting technique known as The Way of Wind which comprised of mostly unarmed fighting of near constant motion with confusing feigning twists and flips, sweeping kicks, and incapacitating strikes. Gideon was getting on in age, so took Aela as an apprentice, amd trained her secretly with only the baron's knowledge. Gideon retired from service, appointing two of the baron's most trusted soldiers as new bodyguards. Aela was named the baron's personal bodyguard, though she has never been revealed in her many years of service. She maintains her convincing facade of being the acrobatic jester, easily forgotten and dismissed, yet always in the presence of the baron for 'entertainment' at a moment's notice.
 
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DeletedUser13682

Name: Duke James Cromwell Charles
Age: 27
Profession: Noble Shadow (Think a Mentat Duke, if you've read Dune)
Weapons: Red gold Mameluke sword with royal crest (Black eagle on dark red background) on end of hilt, red gold Khanjali of same hilt design
Appearance: tall, slightly skinny, lean, gray blue eyes, short black hair, usually seen in a plain black uniform with royal crest over heart, always with weapons on belt
Bio: James Cromwell Charles, duke of Sileisia in Halien, was born to his parents, Duke James William Charles, and Lady Jessie Michelle Charles, about 27 years ago. From birth, he was trained in various ways of fighting, they thought him capable of being a stable Shadow Duke, one with the ability to do what a shadow does, but usually doesn't, being a duke and all. While on a goodwill mission in Atore, James's parents were killed, not by humans, but by their convoy hitting a weak spot in a mountain path, and falling nearly 2,000 feet. Automatically, that made then 21 year old James the new duke of Silesia. Since then, he has been ruling Silesia with a firm but kind fist, the only way you can do it. Occasionally he will visit other places, but usually he stays near Castle Silesia, or out on the waters of the Gulf of Aron.
Map indicating where Silesia is.
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DeletedUser

Name: Azreal
Age: Old
Profession: Shadow, Assasin.
Weapons: Trowing knives, a sharp knife and poisins
Appearance: Tall pale and Grey eyed with white hair, Always dressed in black.
Bio: Born in the slums of Atore, Azreal was forced into a guild where he was beaten often and had to do the bidding of the Guild Leader. One night he was sent to murder a man. Instead Azreal turned and killed his master, That night was the first time he had used magic. For weeks he had hunted men that deserved nothing but death and tales were told throughout Atore. Azreal hunted down every last leader of the guild he had been in. No matter how much care they took or how many guards they posted Azreal always got them. It was not long before the king heard of this, he sent messages through his links in the slums and it was commen knowledge the king wanted the Assasin for himself. Once Azreal had finished his rampage he decided to go to the King. He became the Kings Assasin and has done his bidding ever since.
 
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Deleted User - 819397

Peril, your ability to make incredible stories never fails to amaze me.

Name: Varniran Marnava (V to his friends)
Age: 24
Profession: Mage/mage knight
Weapons: A staff which he uses to cast his offensive and defensive magic, various stones of healing.
Appearance: Tall, slight and dark haired, V has no visible irises, so his eyes are pure white until the pupils. He always seems to have a smile on his face, and is fairly handsome (other than the eyes).
Bio: Varniran was born into a very odd family in the small town of Gartig (thus his unusual name). He was an unusual child growing up...he was a smooth talker, and was shown to have strong arcane powers from a young age...he discovered these powers when he fell out of a tree he had been climbing and stopped himself from crashing into the ground. When Halien travelers visited the town, they saw V's potential and brought him back to their city. He was trained to be both a mage and a magesmith after they saw just how strong he was. However, during one of his studies, a slip in concentration sent a spell raging around and destroyed his green irises, turning them pure white. This disfigured his otherwise handsome features, and put all potential wives off. However, V became friends with many other mages of both genders, and was well liked overall. He fashioned a staff from which he could channel his natural magical energies. He also became a master of forging healing stones...he is very modest though, and is quick to spread the congratulations around.
 
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DeletedUser

Thank you, Regal.

Name: Azo
Age: 23

Profession: Shadow, Noble (Will explain the noble part later.)
Weapons: Azo has access to all of his master's weaponry.
Appearance: Five feet eleven inches tall, short black hair and blue eyes.
Bio: Born in The Lowers of Atore, Azo was cursed to a short life of perversion, suffering and ultimately death, from the moment he took his first breath in that stinking den of pleasures, with a mother who cared less for him then she did for the mud on her polished black boots. Just as her mother had before her and her grandmother, Azo's mother simply deposited her child in the arms of the first man who came asking, for a mere ten coppers. Life was cheap in The Lowers and the ones who grew old were the ones who grew mean and so, Azo decided to become just that, mean.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Seven Years Earlier
Azo's master stared at him with the kind of mounting fury that ended with bodies to remove and destroy. Azo had been a whelp of Nine years when Yzo, Azo's master, had found him, standing over the body of a man who had forced himself on the boy. Yzo knew he had made a mistake frmo the moment he had accepted the boy as his apprentice, he was too prideful and no matter what Yzo would make him do, the boy had an unshakable sense of honor and justice about him, much like Yzo had had for so long, before his screw up. Yzo shook his head, this night he would not think of her, the ***** who had brought ruin to him, not with a blade, but with a simple, seductive glance.

"Tonight, boy, you will trully become a blade in the shadows." Yzo smiled his wicked smile "We are going to the castle tonight, or rather, you are going to the castle tonight."

Azo was tore, his master would not be coming with him this night for the very first time in seven years. What was he supposed to do? How would he do his objective, without his master to tell him what to do? The questions burned his very soul, as he looked up from where he had been polishing his master's favorite Punch Dagger. The weapon was know as a Punch Dagger, beacuse the tip was slanted slightly to the side and made for punching through the hardest armor, and it had been giving him a lot of trouble, as he tried to clean out every little groove, in which poison was placed to slowly kill the victim if the strike itself did not do the job. "Master, what will I be doing?"

"Our Dugku friends want a certain pesky noble dealt with in a way to make an example for the others. None will triffle in their affairs without putting their families in great danger." Yzo replied, as he sat at his desk, stacking gold coins as if they were plain rocks.

The Dugku was the organized crime in The Lowers, every single gambling den, pickpocket ring and ***** house paid them almost all of their profits. The Dugku also handled the greatest of all products in The Lowers, meat. There were Ten leaders of the Dugku and all of the Shadows that lived in The Lowers were magically boun dto obey the Dugku's wishes, or it would destroy them utterly. Azo had been forced to take the oath by his master Yzo, but had yet to be given any jobs, which he had been thankful for. Now, the moral bound child's heart sank, as he realized that he would murder an innocent this night.

"Do as I say boy, or your oath will not have time to activate, before I kill you myself." Yzo growled, as he stood and walked to the wall where all of his weapons, poisons and traps were kept "Remember all I've taught you, for you will need it this night, now go and prepare, get out of my sight." His voice cracked audiblly as he spoke the last words.

As Azo scurried from the room, Yzo bent over his desk and put his head in his hands, as tears came to the surface and began to roll down his face in streams. Curse the ***** who had done this to him, Yzo ranted, as he reached into his desk and withdrew a flask. He pulled at the liquor, as he cried, even knowing that the great secret he kept hidden in plain sight would stop him from becoming intoxicated. In that moment, he hated the entire world.

Later that night, after the sun had disappeared over the horizon and the light was replaced with shadows and death, Azo stole through the darkness. The Lowers were seperated from The Uppers by a river and a bridge, splitting the two worlds apart from each other. Azo skulked through The Uppers in such a way that it was impossible to discern him from the very shadows themselves. He wore a black garment that wrapped around every limb of his body and afforded numerous pockets and folds to store weapons in. Upon his right thigh rode a harness that held three punch daggers of his own, dipped in the venom of the Pit Snake, these blades would kill swiftly and silently. With merely a slit to peer out of a similar black shroud was wrapped around his head, making his white skin completely invisible, but for the tips of his fingers, which poked through fingerless black gloves. Wrapped over his shoulders a grappling hook rode, as did a Hand and a Half Sword that he would use, if he were somehow discovered.

The apprentice reached the walls of Castle Atore with no problem and, as he searched the walls from the shadows afforded by the overhang of an adjacent noble's mansion, he foudn three possible spots to climb the wall and slip by the posted guards, who were all napping or bragging with each other of their past conquests. Azo did this with a rising lump of fear in his throat, he did not want to do this, he had only killed once before, the Big who had tried to force himself on Azo when he was a boy. As the apprentice stealthly scaled the walls of Castle Atore, he saw again that night in the Guild, when he had been caught peeing outside, like everyone did, by the Big known as Jokt among the smalls in the guild. He liked boys. That night had ended with the Big clutching at a broken wine bottle jutting from his throat, as the naked and beaten Azo watched with a mixture of horror and pride, as the Big's lifeblood pooled around his corpse. The thought somehow strenghtened Azo and he moved quicker and with more efficency as a result.

It was a full hour, before the apprentice was kneeling before the huge North Tower. With a final gulp, Azo pulled the grappling hook frmo his shoulder and began to twirl it in short strong arcs. The steel grappling hook flashed in the darkness, but Azo was confident that the guards would still be too busy with their bragging to notice such a small glint in the darkness, not to mention their nightvision was shot, for they were staring directly into their torches, as they spoke. The grappling hook sailed high, gracefully falling into the perfect slot on the first try and Azo steadied himself for the climb.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the walls, Yzo sat, cloaked in his magic, upon the roof of a noble's mansion. The Shadow held a darkened crossbow in his grasp and, as he watched his apprentice throw his hook and begin to climb with the speed he expected of his protege, Yzo began to crank the crossbow's bolt back. Just as Azo reached the great windows at the top of the tower, Yzo centered the bolt of the crossbow between the shoulders of his apprentice "Give me one reason, boy, you are the worst mistake I've ever made." he whispered.

Azo reached the grappling hook, stuck into the jutting rock gargoyle's mouth, just before his strength gave out and he collapsed, silently panting to the roof of the North Tower. It had been a tough climb, fifty feet straight into the air, so tough that the Shadow had almost forgotten about his mission's objective, which was now asleep in the room right under him. All of Azo screamed for him to leave, to climb back down his rope and leave, to run as far away as he could, maybe he could even escape the grasp of the Dugku's magic, before they knew, but that left Yzo, his master, the greatest Shadow the world had ever seen. Azo made up his mind.

The apprentice silently slipped into the room where his target slept, but Azo was mortified as he discovered his deader. A pregnant woman. Azo called upon all of his magic, to cloak him, to keep him from the sight of this woman, but his magic still refused to work and the woman saw him slip through the window. She was beautiful, if not for the great swelling lump upon her stomach, the life that was growing there.

In that moment, Master Yzo's words screamed in Azo's ears. "Life is empty, boy, it is not worth the poison we spend to destroy it. A girl is only worth what she can ***** and a boy only what he can steal, when you take life, you aren't taking anything."

Azo lunged forward, as the woman cried out in sheer terror, and his first Punch Dagger leapt into his hand. Time slowed, Azo watched the curved point of his dagger stab out in a well practiced motion and then felt the satisfying crunch, as it sank to the hilt, directly into the noblewoman's womb. The poison took affect immediatly and the woman's screams of agony were replaced with the hiss of blood pouring from a mortal wound, and the thump of two pairs of boots thundering up the stairs below him.

Now, Azo had two choices, he could twist his blade and then pull it from the woman's body, or he could leave it and have time to disappear out the window, before the guards made it into the room. Azo twisted the dagger once and the woman's once swan neck stood out starkly, as crimson was splashed across it and the neck cords stood out in a silent scream of pain. It happened so fast, Azo did not even feel any emotion, as he pushed the corpse of the noblewoman from her birthing bed and fled. The guards burst through the door into a room so filled with blood that the door opening caused blood to flood down the stairs and a black and crimson spotted shape diving straight out an open window, as he latched onto a rope and slid out of sight.

That night, Azo truly became Shadow, he lost his soul.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Present Day
Azo held two clothes in his hands, as he scooted through the rafters of the Castle Atore's grand hall. With each motion, the 23 year old Shadow dislodged small clumps of dust and dirt and it fell down into the crowd of dancing, boozing nobles below him. To his left and three rafters over, Azo could make out the black figure moving gracefully through the rafters as Yzo, who was still his master. Azo was purely acting as a second, someone to do with the crossbow upon his back, what Yzo may not accomplish with the packets of powder stashed in his pockets.

The Dugku had said it would be a simple job, the nobility was partying again, while their entire country was on the edge of a knife, they boozed and fraternized with each other. The perfect cover to assasinate the prince. The prince had began taking more power and was begining to cut into The Lowers and clean out the filth and deprivation, The Dugku didn't like it. So, the cities most talented Shadow and his promising apprentice were oathed into the contract and here they were.

Yzo's favored Punch Dagger flashed, as he dispatched a guard that had been placed in the rafters. The man struggled, but soon the Viper poison put him unconscious and then killed him, as Yzo held the man's mouth and nose silent. Propping him against a support beam, Yzo gave a thumbs up gesture and continued to inch his way across the rafter beams, edging closer and closer to the prince. To their 50,000 gold coins.
 

Deleted User - 819397

(I'm assuming the whole "present day" thing is a call to start)

V laughed as he and his friends strolled down the street. Their robes marked them as mages, and a few of them had the insignia of the magesmith on their clothes. V was the center of attention, as he was telling a very humorous joke. Upon completion of the joke, the entire entourage roared with laughter. It would have seemed like a normal group of friends had every single one of them not been trying to avoid looking V in the eyes. This was something V noticed and despised...why had he let his concentration slip that fateful day? Because of his error, he was doomed to be truly alone for the rest of his days. Sure, his so-called friends were friendly enough, but there was always that look of revulsion when his eyes met theirs. It was agonizing to realize that no woman would ever want him...who would rather have him than a man with his irises still visible? From the way his friends treated him, the answer seemed to be no one. However, V did not let this appear to bother him on the outside, and so he went on with the charade. Mages are not emotional fellows. he thought. They all have a sense of mechanical purpose about them...I am different since I was not raised from birth to be one of them...does this mean I am not worthy? Are emotions that bad? That evil? He gave up pondering those thoughts and returned to having a good time with those people who called themselves his friends.

In due time he left for his own dwelling. He looked at the larger dwelling that was the standard issue home for mages, and then the smaller forge for magesmiths that he owned as well...everything seemed so uniform. Was he merely going to live his life by existing? Perhaps people elsewhere will be more forgiving of my eyes, he reasoned.

Eventually, he came to a decision. His life within the walls of Halien was not truly living, but merely surviving. He had become a master of both of the arcane crafts, and could forge various magical artifacts without a suitable forge...the more powerful objects obviously were beyond his skill without his forge, but smaller things were in his reach, in addition to all forms of healing stones, which were his specialty where forging was concerned. He decided it was time to set out, to explore the world he knew so little about.

It took him a fortnight to prepare enough healing stones and to secure enough rations for what he considered would be prudent for the journey ahead. He used an enchanted wallet to hold it all, and slipped it into a pocket of his robes. He then grabbed his pride and joy; his magic staff, and set out. He met no resistance from the guards, who were his "friends", and he was out, ready and eager to get on this adventure...picking a direction at random, he headed west.
 

DeletedUser25825

[FONT=&quot]"HI!" Aela exclaimed startlingly as she swung upside down directly in front of V as he hurried along the street. He was in his own thoughts and apparently had not noticed the woman perched up on one of the many iron lantern hangers that lined the street. As she hung upside down in front of him, supporting herself by twisting her feet around the iron rung above her, he realized who WOULD notice something like that. It wasn't normal.

She grinned at him, revealing surprisingly pristine teeth, and released her huge mop of red hair as she removed her cap. She lowered it toward the ground, which V found himself amused to see. Were she right side up she'd be lifting it in greeting. She tugged the hat back on. "It's V right?" She held her hand up as he opened his mouth to respond, "I already know the answer. It's just nice to recognize people isn't it? It's the eyes you know." She pointed at each of his eyes. "Hard to forget."

She lifted herself upward, grabbed the rung, and pulled herself up to stand on the precarious surface of the narrow rung which creaked slightly under her diminutive weight. She looked down at V and grinned disarmingly again. "Oh my now. I can see you're uncomfortable about the whole eye thing. Well, were you so, you should really avoid jesters." V found her comment about his most touchy subject highly ironic seeing as it was her that literally dropped in on him.

She tipped forward, tucked into a tight ball and flipped down toward the cobblestone landing solidly on her feet. She straightened and grinned at V. "I'm Aela of House Kilbourne. I really remember you because you made my master the Baron Gavin Kilbourne a magical device. Perhaps you remember it? A golden singing bird for my mistress the Baroness LaVelle Kilbourne." She grinned again as her sharp eyes flicked momentarily past V's shoulder, and then settled back on his face.

She looked uncertain for the first time as she rubbed the back of her neck and squinted an eye shut slightly. "Um... I know this is a bit weird, but I was wondering if you could make another maybe? For me?" Her eyes widened. "I mean. Not NEAR as nice as what my master asked for. I'm a simple girl and only a servant. I could never afford something like what you made for him. I... I just want the music really." She grinned, closed her eyes and twisted around on her toe in a pirouette. "Oh my... that would be so nice."

She looked at V's face again and lifted her hand as he opened his mouth yet again to reply. "I know what you're going to say. Too much, I'm just a servant, and could only dream of possessing magic of my very own. Well... fine then!" She frowned and crossed her arms muttering, "Hmph!" Her eyes flicked past his shoulder once again, and narrowed. "Hmm... do you see that?" She jumped up onto the nearby sill of a window, leapt outward and grabbed the iron rung she'd been perched upon earlier, swung from one hand as she grabbed the lantern and threw it into the darkness.

It erupted into a large fireball as it broke open spreading out a great clout of flame. A man's voice screamed out in agony as the flames wrapped around him and a poorly cast spell was broken. She shouted, "Shadow! We've got a Shadow on Vespers Street!" She looked toward House Kilbourne and dropped down to the pavement to run in that direction.
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DeletedUser

Azreal stood sat upon the rafters on the Grand Hall, "Why do you do this boy?" The Assasin turned, Azreal was gone, now behind him "They are just using you". Again in a split second Azreal was above the assassin, "They just want power for themselves" Azreal now turned to face the boy "You are destroying this city even more, what shall the Halien army meet when they come to take this city?, A castle full of dead nobles and a few shadows running around the city?". "We will die boy, your empire in the lowers will be crushed, destroyed...let the prince die, he is blind but our king, he sees the truth." Azreal was also covered in all black and stood waiting for an attack, even at his age he was agile and strong. As the Kings assassin he had learned many techniques and magics that were long lost to the world.
 

Deleted User - 819397

V had barely left the city before Aela had intercepted him. She had made several glib jokes about his eyes, which both disconcerted him and made him wonder. She had not seemed to care too much that his eyes were so odd...she had actually kept eye contact during her spiel. When she mentioned the golden bird and the Baroness, V had smiled. That bird had been one of his best works of non-practical magical artifacts. The Baroness had paid well for it too. Before he could answer her request for another one of those birds, this one for herself, she had tensed up, and mentioned a Shadow. Stunned, V watched her start to run toward where she believed the Shadow to be. V chastised himself for wanting to leave Halien...it was his duty to remain here, and plus, he loved his work. Turning, he ran after Aela, pulling out his staff as he went. The staff appeared to just be a large ball, half gold, half silver. After V flicked it, a long polished piece of Mahogany shot out, and V altered his grip to hold this part instead. One way or another, he'd be ready to fight this Shadow.
 

DeletedUser25825

The Shadow shook off the cloak that was engulfed in flame and turned angrily toward Aela as she ran at him, still shouting about a Shadow in the streets. He drew a dagger as she closed in on him. As he lunged forward to stab her, she dropped down away from the stabbing attack, and wheeled around as she extended her right leg outward. It caught his legs, and because he was in the process of lunging forward, caught him off balance and knocked both legs out from underneath him.

His dagger clattered across the pavement as he landed on his back. Aela stood up out of her wheeling sweep attack, using the momentum of her standing to spring upwards like a cork out of water into a hand-less cartwheel. She snapped her legs together, as she tucked her arms against her chest and twisted in the air, landing both feet together on the Shadow's chest. He gasped as the air whooshed out of him, even as she twisted and performed a back flip off of him. She landed on her feet, bladed her body so her left side faced the downed Shadow, and crouched down keeping her left hand extended out in front of her while raising her right arm upward and behind her head. Somewhere in the process of her movements she managed to arm herself with two slim daggers.


The Shadow regained his feet, and looked at the woman before him. He turned and fled down the cobblestones. She straightened, leaned over and picked up his dropped blade, and stood. "You forgot this!" she shouted and with an obviously well practiced motion released the blade at the fleeing man with a flick of her wrist. It whistled through the air and sunk into the man's back behind his left shoulder. The man wailed, staggered as he scratched uselessly at his back where the blade was embedded, and sank to his knees before toppling over.


Aela looked torn as she looked at the man laying motionless in the street. She looked at V, then back to her house. She took a breath, shook her head and began running for her house even as screams from within could be heard.
 

Deleted User - 819397

V had been running at the Shadow, a fierce light growing around the top of his staff, but by the time he got to the fight Aela had already ended it. He let the light die, and saw Aela looking as though she couldn't decide what to do. V was surprised that a jester was so proficient in battle. He was about to ask how she was so skilled when she ran at the Baroness' manor. Hesitating for a moment, V ran after her, this time casting a spell of speed so that he could keep up with her. He would help this time...it was his duty as a mage of Halien.
 

DeletedUser25825

As V caught up to Aela's side he could hear her muttering, "Stupid Aela. They always travel in pairs it seems." She rushed up to the door of her house, pushed them open, and ran inside. She gasped as she crashed onto her back, as her feet slipped out from underneath her immediately when she unexpectedly ran into an expanding pool of blood from a crumpled armored figure immediately to the side of the door. The speed from the fact she had been running carried her through the pool, leaving a large smear across the tiles, before she was able to regain her feet and run down the corridor toward a stairwell. She paused only a scant moment, breathing heavily and looking at her white and black outfit ruined by crimson.

She again started shouting "Shadows in the house!" and "Intruders!" loudly as she ran for a winding staircase, and began bounding up the steps three at the time. As she made the last story she ran down the hall. "No, no, no, NO!", she cried out as she saw two more figures laying face down at the end of a hallway with the door they had been guarding swung wide open. She ran harder, flicking her left hand down hard and catching a slim dagger that sprung out from within her sleeve.


She bound over the two prone guards and into the room. The ornate room was obviously a bed chamber, and opulently decorated. Immediately to her left, on the great bed lay the murdered baron. She caught movement in her periphery and turned to see the baroness on her knees and being held by a Shadow. She screamed incoherently at him, even as his blade flashed and raked across the exposed throat of her mistress and blood cascaded from the gaping wound like a fountain.


Aela jumped startledly as it misted against her face. The Shadow grinned at her and moved to wrap his cloak around himself. Aela screamed again and raised her right arm quickly above her head, again catching a slim dagger that sprang out from within her sleeve. She flicked the blade at the Shadow as his form wavered and disappeared entirely. The dagger whistled through the air and sunk into the wall behind where the baroness lay.


Aela looked around the room in horror, at the dead nobles, and buried her face in her hands as she sank to her knees and wept.
 

Deleted User - 819397

When V had ran into the manor, he, like Aela, had slipped on the blood that was in the doorway. However, he had attempted to stay standing, and only stopped sliding when his head smashed into a low balcony, knocking him to the ground. By the time he had gathered his wits and ran after Aela, he was far too late to do anything. Revolted by both the copious amounts of blood and the heartlessness of the murder, V went into a brief state of shock. After a few seconds, Aela's muffled sobs permeated his muddled mind, and he went to her and knelt beside her, gently putting an arm around her. He almost said something, but then decided it would be best to just give silent support. What kind of monster would do this? he thought. Killing without good reason...just a monetary supplement was all the killer was likely to receive...why would anyone do this?
 

DeletedUser

Azo cursed himself, as a voice called him out from above. Luckily, the voice hadn’t been a yell or call of distress, but a question. It left Azo with an odd feeling, why did he do what he did? The answer almost immediately popped into his mind and it was the obvious choice. Azo loved his work. After his first kill in the tower that fateful night, Azo had begun to enjoy the killing, to him it symbolized his mastery of the trade and with each kill between then and now he had simply got more and more bloodthirsty. To Azo, killing reinforced that he had indeed reached his goal, he was no longer the scared child who was sexually abused on a daily basis, no he wasn’t Gregory anymore, he was Azo, the hardened killer, a match for any man, save for his master, the greatest killer on earth.

“That is simple.” Azo replied “It’s big business or maybe, I do it because I enjoy it.”
The very fact that he was speaking with the man served two purposes. One, it kept the Court Shadow engaged and away from all else that was happening throughout the castle and Two, it allowed his master, Yzo, to scurry along the rafters and continue on with the contract. Indeed, as the two spoke, Yzo noticed his apprentice’s plight and continued on with his mission.

He crawled along the rafters with great ease, jumping between beams and climbing through small indentations created by beam and wall joining. Each of his movements caused small specks of dust to float down onto the intoxicated nobility, but they were too far gone in their drinking and fraternizing to notice such inconveniences.

Yzo was across the grand hall and standing just above the prince, who was busy drinking a rich white wine in one hand and his other was busy up the skirt of a woman sitting next to him. The hate and anger of Yzo was evident on his face, as he unclasped his grappling hook and wrapped it around the support he stood upon, before he attached it to himself and called upon his magic. His outline first shimmered and then disappeared completely, as he began to inch his way along his grapple, closer and closer to the prince, who was still busy under the skirts of the noblewoman next to him.

Meanwhile, Azo looked at the shadow draped man above him “Well, you haven’t screamed for help yet, so why?” If he could only keep the king’s assassin engaged for a little longer, just a few seconds and the prince’s wine would have the lethal drugs inside of his wine.

The master Shadow lowered himself to within three yards of the prince, before he stopped and, invisible to everyone, withdrew two small packets of Pit Viper venom and a small blowgun. Steadying himself with his right leg, Yzo popped both packets into his mouth and put the blowgun to his lips, then, he waited. Soon, the prince became more bold with the woman next to him and he sat his wine down and put both hands on the woman next to him, perfect. Yzo blew both packets into the prince’s wine. Almost immediately, Yzo began to shimmy back up the rope.

He came back into visibility on the beam he had first lowered himself down onto the prince, just as the prince put the wine to his lips and drank the entirety of his goblet. The prince immediately began to convulse.
 
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DeletedUser25825

Aela quietly wept for some time; for her master, her mistress, and her failure to them both. Slowly her sobs ebbed, she dropped her hands to her sides, and raised her head. She took a deep breath and looked around the room once more, before settling her red, puffy eyes on V. Her face was a macabre mask of tear streaked white and black paint and drying blood. She studied him for quite some time, her gaze never wavering as she seemed to search for answers in his very soul. She patted his hand that was draped over her shoulder and regained her feet slowly, saying nothing.

She moved first to the baroness and looked down at her face, which was frozen in horror. Aela shook her head and moved over to one of the tapestries and jerked it down violently. She moved back to her mistress, choked back a sob threatening to break from her, and gently draped the heavy material over the corpse. She moved toward the late Baron Kilbourne, briefly glancing in V's direction almost to assure herself he still was there, and stopped at the side of the baron's bed.

She looked at the man, who appeared to be simply slumbering, and shook her head disbelievingly as tears once against welled up in her eyes, only to be dashed away with an angry swipe of her sleeve. She rested her hand gently on the baron's chest and leaned forward over him, pressing her forehead against his. She closed her eyes and whispered to the dead man. She slowly straightened up, and turned to face V.

"The Baron and Baroness Kilbourne are dead", she stated sadly. "They are without heirs and their house is therefor fallen. I am without house." She looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully, before looking back at V's face as her lips quivered. She did not lose what composure she had left as she repeated, "I... I am without house. What am I to do now?" Almost ironically, she held her hand up as V opened his mouth to speak and she shook her head.

She looked around the room, and her face and eyes hardened as they fell on the dagger she'd sunk into the wall trying to kill the Shadow that had done this. She stalked over the the wall, jerked the blade out, and studied it. She flipped it in the air, caught it and shoved it into the hidden sheath up her sleeve. She turned to face V and nodded, "The Shadow scurge is going to end. There will be no more senseless murder. I will see to this, or I will die in my attempt."
 

Deleted User - 819397

V watched silently as Aela went about the room, stopping at each of the people who had been her masters. When she told him of her plan to exact revenge, he nodded. "I understand your desire...however, to go alone would certainly be suicide..." he broke off, looking down. He hesitated, then looked her straight in the eye, something he almost never did due to the wince he always received...however, Aela did not flinch, but held his gaze. "However, if you had someone with you, things might be safer...if you accept, I would like to lend my abilities to your quest...so will one, become two?"
 

DeletedUser25825

Aela narrowed her eyes thoughtfullyat V's proposal. She snorted slightly and shook her head, "Two on a fools' errand... with one already being a fool. You said it V. To undertake this is likely death. Are you prepared to die? You have everything. Power, knowledge, friends. I have nothing to lose. My life was this, and that's gone."

She frowned at the floor for a few moments and nodded before looking back at V. "If you will have a fool for a companion, I will gladly have your company. Perhaps we may even learn things in the process, if we're not dead of course." She grinned, and looked around the room as it slowly faded. "We must leave this sorry house. It weighs too heavily."

She left, assuming V would follow. She moved down the hallway, stepping over the two dead guards. She opened a simple door at the end and entered a sparsely furnished room. It contained a mattress on the floor, a table with water pitcher and basin, and a trunk. She poured water into the basin and washed the makeup from her face and hands, revealing she was quite attractive for a clown. She moved to the trunk and opened it.

She grabbed a satchel and dropped it on the mattress. She looked at V, smiled shyly and circled her index finger in the air indicating he should turn around. After he did so, she stripped and put on traveling clothes. She left her ruined costume on the floor, packed the remainder of her worldly belongings in a small sack and draped it over her shoulder. "Where to?" she asked.
 

DeletedUser

Name: Reaper

Age: Reaper started to kill people around the age of 18. As it's been thirty years since then, people presume he is around the age of 48.

Profession: Ex-Shadow

Weapons: He has a yew crossbow on his back, with the bolts hanging from the left side of his belt. He has a 5" curved, steel dagger on the back of his belt, with the handle pointing to his right. He carries an ornate, silver short sword at his right side, with a guard on the hilt. There is a serpent holding a green emerald on the bottom of the short sword.

Appearance: To the people that have seen Reaper, he is a man about 5'11. He wears peasant clothing when he is in crowds, but when he is "working" he wears a leather shirt and leather pants. His shins, shoulders, and arms have blackened steel guards, which are magically enchanted to still be light as leather. He has a black cloak that is enchanted to keep him invisible to the naked eye, but to other Shadows and mages, he can be seen due to their keen sense of magic. He has a buzzed black haircut and a black goatee, but usually keeps his face masked. He also has a scar across his right eye, from a noble mark who was also a master swordfighter, and a scar on the left side of his lip, from another Shadow who thought he could make a name for himself by killing him.

Bio: A master assassin, Reaper lives a very secretive life. Some say he was born in the capital, living on the streets as a petty thief. Other say he was a noble who looked for abit of sport. Either way, Reaper has kept his past behind him very well. Nobody even knows his real name, just the name he gives his clients. He has killed countless nobles, saved countless lives when need be, and is a legend and a myth in the country. He is the only known Shadow to have left the life. He constantly fights for his survival from Shadows who try to make names for themselves by fighting him.

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"Nowhere. Your an idiot trying to destroy the Shadows kid. I should know. I tried," a voice said.

"I am currently hidden. You can't see me. Hear me, but can't see me. I am Reaper. The Shadow. Not a member in high standing anymore mind you. Just a man who left and is looking for a bit of revenge. Thought I'd ruin this job for them, but I got here abit late. Now, before I uncloak myself, I want your word you won't try and kill me. And I do mean try. I am a legend you know. I don't wanna take a life I don't need to."
 
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