The Darkness Begins...

Posted: Fri Dec 28, 2007 2:57 am

(Just some stuff I've been workin on it my head. Thanks Cami for the Solus name!)

The city of Westgate was always active, but even more so after dark. The merchants had closed up shops and had all gone home, or to their evening choice of entertainment. Indeed the night was echoing with cheers, jeers, and laughter. The Onyx Dragon Inn was packed to capacity with travelers, occupants and the normal crowd. The cheers were directed towards the stage that had been built into one side of the three story building. Knives cut through the air hovering above the stage for a moment and then falling down to be snatched out of the air by the nimble six-fingered hand of a dark skinned humanoid. The crowd cheered as the he caught all the knives, and the bow slowly his green eyes glowing slightly as they scanned the audience then with a flash of a smile he ducked behind the curtains as they closed in front of him. The smile instantly dropped from his face as he heard the sound of clapping behind him.

“Aramas… Aramas, what a wonderful show….” Aramas’ eyes fell on the large man in front of him, Cilas Beran was the owner of the inn and the owner of Aramas as well. “The inn is packed and we are making more profit then ever!” Aramas could literally see the greedy glint in the man’s eyes as he stepped forward towards him.

“Does that mean I’ve paid off my debt to you and I can go free?” It was with a hopeful look that he made towards Cilas, silently praying that he would finally be released from this life of slavery. The hope quickly left because he knew that as long as Cilas was alive he would be his slave. Cilas sneered as Aramas spoke the words and was almost face to face with him in an instant.

“Your debt will never be paid you foolish freak!” His dark fingers would tighten around the hilts of the knives in is hands which only made Cilas smile. “Go ahead boy, I know you want to, so go and try and cut me…” The amounts of hate that he possessed for this man was great and with that hate spurring him forward he dropped the other knives in his hand and lunged forward with this reaming knife. For a large man Cilas moved quick, side stepping the lunging stab and grabbing the young half-fiend’s wrist, twisting it violently. Aramas let out a yelp as the bigger, stronger man wrenched the blade out of his grasp and then slammed a fist into his nose knocking him sprawling across the floor. It felt as if someone had struck him with a hammer, but it didn’t stop there. Cilas hefted him up by the threat and slammed him back against the wall. He struggled against the vice like grip to no avail, finally stopping. He could taste his own blood running from his nose and broken lips. Tears welled in his glowing eyes.
“
Now that you’re done squirming, I’m going to say this once and only once, if you ever rise up against me again, I will kill you like I did your bitch of a mother.” With a snarl he threw him down the steps and into the cellar that served as his home and prison. Before Aramas slipped into darkness he saw his mother’s elven face pale and beautiful, covered in blood as Cilas had slit her throat in front of him, then he collapsed slipping into darkness.

As he slept his mind drifted back to when he was a small child, back to the memory of the pain evident on his mother’s face as they faced the Priests of Waukeen. He remembered the hostility in their voices as they shouted rebukes and damnation towards them. He remembered his mother’s tears as she clutched his small hand and pulled him away from the scene. No help for one who had offspring from a fiend. His mother had no clue until he was born that his father had not been a human, but a demon from the Outer Planes. Cilas had taken them in, not out of kindness, but out of the profit he thought he could make, and the lust he had with Aramas’ mother. He turned her into his personal slave and when he killed her in a fit of rage he had Aramas to take her place.

Aramas had been turned into an oddity attraction for the inn Cilas often shouted to people passing by to come and be entertained and charmed by a demon prince. He had been taught how to play the flute, how to sing and juggle, how to talk and act like a gentleman, and most of all he was taught how to keep Cilas’ purse fat with gold. He was dressed in the finest clothes for performances, but then had them ripped off after and he was thrown down into the dark cellars that become his home. Alive and bright during his performance, but back in the cellar then was nothing, but pain and despair for the young half fiend.

Posted: Fri Dec 28, 2007 3:05 am

Days after that incident he was back on stage in all his glory. People showered him with gold coins on the stage as he performed, and there was Cilas as usual grinning and rubbing his fat, greedy hands together. There was nothing different tonight as Aramas turned a backflip, and then started into his juggling act. The inn was overflowing as people tried to get out of the heavy rains outside. Aramas’ eyes flickered across the room and he felt hope swell in his chest as he saw that the window closest to the stage didn’t have its normal guard standing by it. A plan started to quickly form in his hand and he turned slightly so he was facing Cilas more. His dark
lips parted and he flashed a bright smile and he caught the knives with a spin, he then bowed slightly. Before anybody knew what had happened he had flung one of the deadly blades directly at Cilas! The crowd gasped as he rapidly threw the other four daggers his direction.

The first dagger slammed into the wall nicking a stunned Cilas’ ear and as he then turned to scream to his closet guard to grab the fiend one of the knives caught the guard full in the throat. The momentum carried him to the ground in a bleeding heap, much to the horror of the onlookers. The other daggers found no such marks, but Aramas wasn’t looking he had already been in a full sprint across the stage for the window. Without hesitation he dove through window his arms shielding his face as he went through. Shattered glass sliced through his long sleeved burgundy shirt and cut deep into his forearms, but he didn’t take count of that at the moment. His adrenaline was soaring and the cuts did not seem to matter as he landed on the ground rolling forward and back to his feet. He didn’t look back as he ran down the alley, and then the next, and the next, until all he heard was the slight jingle of the small silver bells that were attached to his belt.

His breath came in gasps and his cut forearms were throbbing with pain, he stopped and pressed his back against a building an peered out into the darkness. He could see in the darkness with little difficulty and he didn’t see anyone or anything. Wincing as he looked down at his own arms, he knew that they were deep cuts and they were still steadily bleeding. Carefully he started to pull a large piece of glass out of his arm and faught back tears as it slid free from his flesh. A gasp slipped out from between his clutched teeth as it came free and tears slowly slid down his obsidian colored cheeks. Trembling fingers quickly unbuttoned the dark purple vest he had on and then his lacy shirt, from which he tore long strips from. Aramas didn’t know much about healing, but he knew that he had to bandage his arms and keep them from bleeding. He carefully wrapped his arms up with the strips of cloth and tied them off and slipped the purple vest back on and butted it.
Two sets of eyeballs had come up in his moment of distraction and had been watching him intently; hushed whispers would float through the air, but were choked out by the storm before they reached his ears. Thunder crashed overhead as Aramas moved towards the mouth of the alley. He never made it as two figures approached from behind and one brought a club down on his head, knocking him out cold and face first into a puddle. The two figures flipped him over and examined his body one of them smiled wide.

“See? I told you it was a little Drow Arem!” The man named Arem turned to the other and rubbed the grizzled jaw and then his head.

“I don’t think so Rygar, lets take it to Meria she’ll know what it is.” Rygar shook his big head and then shrugged his shoulders and then picked the small humanoid up and slung it over his shoulder, and then turned back to Arem as the man hefted a large sack over his shoulder and produced a ring from his pocket with his other hand. ‘Lets hope this works otherwise it’s a long walk back down to the tower.” Rygar would grin and then grab the shorter man’s shoulder as he spoke the incantation and in a shimmer of blue light they were gone.

Posted: Fri Dec 28, 2007 3:12 am

Meria’s pale fingers moved over the corpse in front of her, razor sharp surgical blades extracted parts she needed before dropping them into jars with a foul smelling fluid in them. Removing gloves and an apron she would hand them to an attendant and make her way out of the body chamber. A hand would trail lightly along the smooth stone wall of the corridor. Her private tower served both as her laboratory and her home. It was located far from Westgate in the mountains. Most knew not of its existence, and those who did and were foolhardy enough to try and force entrance often found themselves turned into one of her often demented experiments.

A sigh would escape her crimson painted lips as she would collapse into the chair behind her study desk. Boredom was starting to come easier to her while most masters of the arcane and necromancy focused on finding a way of prolonging their lives, she had already somewhat succeeded. A vampiric spell performed on a Shade had infused her with the stuff of shadows and it had indeed extended her life, quite by accident even. She did not know how long she was going to be alive, but as she saw it part of the fun of living was never knowing when one was going to die. She would slouch down into her chair for a few moments before a knock her door would bring her back into a much stiffer, regal posture. “Enter.” Ezalius, her personal servant entered with a bowl.

“Lady Solus, pardon my intrusion, but Arem and Rygar have returned from Westgate with the supplies. Normally I would deal with it personally, but they have captured a young man which you might find interesting.” A well manicured eyebrow would perk and a slightly smile would form on her lips.
“Interesting indeed, thank you for informing me Ezalius. Send Arem and Rygar in immediate with the boy.” Ezalius would bow again and back out closing the chamber doors behind him. Meria almost clapped her hands together with glee, but contained her excitement as Arem and Rygar entered carrying the body. “Put the body on the that table.” She would pint it out and they would nod and rather roughly drop the body on the table leading her to believe that it was a corpse. “Now away with you, if this is a worthy find, your pay for the supply trip will be doubled.” Both men would grin stupidly and leave the room again.

Meria would stand and hurry to the body, hastily pinning back jet black hair as she went. Fingers would come to rest on the young man’s neck. He was still alive! Grinning she let her fingers drop from his neck and then started to examine his body. He was not a Drow, and from the looks he was plane touched at the very least. A Tiefling perhaps? She had never seen a Tiefling with such obvious plane touched features. Perhaps a direct offspring of a devil or demon? More research would be done later but for now she would tend to his wounds.

Posted: Fri Dec 28, 2007 3:23 am

Time would past and eventually she had mended most of his wounds stitching the deeper ones and bandaging him, before moving back to her desk and recording the information in a hard bound book. She would glance up from time to time to see if he had woken, but yet he hadn’t and she feared that the brute Rygar might have put him into a permanent state of unconsciousness.

Aramas’ eyelids would flutter and a quiet groan would pass through his lips. Reaching up his hand made its way to his head and he would tenderly touch his head. What had happened to him, he would look around green orbs taking in the room. Where was he? Sitting up he would turn to see Meria sitting behind her desk, her fingers steeped in front of her and she stared over them at the young fiend with a gentle smile on her lips. A large book was opened and she head been looking up some information as he had slept, she knew exactly what he was. He was a half fiend, the mating of some demon and a woman, perhaps Elven by the looks of his ears and the structure of his face. Slate colored eyes would travel over his frame, obsidian colored skin, green slightly glowing eyes, black fingernails, slightly elongated canines, and six fingers on each hand, all he needed was six horns and some height and he would be a identical image of the Dark Prince Graz’zt, whom she believed was probably his father.

“How do you feel?” Hands would come rest in front of her and then she would stand from her desk and move to him. His eyes would follow her movements and he was confused and worried. Scooting back over the edge of the table he crouched down behind it. Meria would only smile gently and come around the edge of the table.

“I see you must be feeling better, do not be afraid I’m not going to hurt you, in fact I’m the one that tended to your wounds, what is your name? Or shall I call you Fiend for the remainder of your stay?” At the mention of his wounds he looked down at his bandaged arms and then looked back up at her. Easing out of his small moment of fear he stood up and let his eyes move up and down her figure taking in the woman that had probably saved his life.

“Aramas, my names Aramas.” He wouldn’t stammer or falter in his words, he had been trained to talk to nobles and people with money. There wasn’t any sign to him that she was a noble, but she carried herself with that certain air that told him that she demanded his attention and respect. “Thank you for taking care of my wounds.” Eyes would drop back to the ground and focus on the stonework of the floor, which only brought an amused chuckle from Meria.

“Aramas… what a pretty name. My name’s Meria Solus, and do not worry about the pleasantries of nobility here.” Someone had already taught this young man how to act around people of higher status, although she enjoyed being treated with respect and that certain air of nobility, she didn’t mind being referred to as equal either. This boy Aramas, was probably a slave at some time, she made a mental note to contact her informants in Westgate and have them keep their ears open for anything about him.

“Yes Mis… I mean Meria.” Eyes would come up from the stone floor and he would look at her again. She was a beautiful lady, far more beautiful then the girls that Cilas had employed at the inn, but he could feel an almost dark presence emanating from her, and that had him frightened at first. Fingers would clench and unclench and his arms hurt a little, but they were obviously a lot better then when he had bandaged them earlier. A million thoughts were racing through his head right now, the chief among them was did she know he was a slave and was she going to return him to Cilas. His thoughts must have made his face wrinkle up in worry as Meria leaned back against the table next to him with an amused look on her face.

“Don’t worry Aramas no harm is going to befall you here and I’m not sending you back to Westgate just yet.” Of course she had quite some time to think while he was laying on that stone table seemingly dead to the world. She was always in need of trustworthy underlings and dark thoughts had spun around in her head as she had watched him sleep. “Come here and tell me about yourself. How old are you and where are your parents?” Patting the stone table for him beside her in a motion to get him to come closer and sit next to her.

Posted: Fri Dec 28, 2007 3:35 am

Cautious eyes would follow her movements and then when he thought she wasn’t going to hurt him he climbed up on the table next to her. Although he seemed to be young he really wasn’t as young as most people thought, due to his slowed aging process. “I’m 13 and my mother she is dead… and I never knew my father.” Gazing back down at the floor he would let his feet dangle off the table and swing idly as he sat.

“Ahh 13 and your mother is dead? How did she die?” Of course she made no mention of his father, she was quite sure that he knew that his father hadn’t been a normal human like her mother, so there was no need to mention it at the moment. An comforting arm would wrap around his shoulders and she would pull him a little closer, trying to gain his confidence.

“Yes, she was murdered by an Innkeeper we used to work for named Cilas.” Closing his eyes he remembered watching as his mother fought against Cilas as he tried to rape her and eventually put him into such a rage that he had slit her throat while she was pinned down to the floor as Aramas watched helplessly.

“I’m sorry Aramas. So what did you and your mother do for this innkeeper?” Maybe she wouldn’t need her informants in Westgate at all, maybe he would just tell her everything she really needed to know himself, which of course would be a lot faster and a lot more convenient.

“My mother used to work in his inn, she would cook and clean and wait on the customers, and at night she was Cilas’ personal servent. I would do the same until after he killed her and then Cilas made me perform in front of the patrons of the inn and make lots of money. He told me I would be able to eventually by back my freedom, but he never did let me”
“So you escaped I presume? Quite a task for a boy as young as yourself what kind of performing did you do?” She was now quite intrigued by the fact that he had on his own escaped from an adult and a vicious sounding one like this Cilas person, maybe he was already developing the skills she had been thinking about training him with.

“Yes I escaped, the inn was really full and their were a lot of people, normally a one of Cilas’ workers guards the window next to the stage, but there wasn’t anybody there and I was juggling knives. At the end of my juggling performance I bowed and then threw the knives at Cilas and his workers, and then ran and dove out the window.” He would wince some and then look at his arms and then back up at Meria and leaned into her some. “I think I might have killed one of the guards. I heard someone scream that a knife was in his throat as I leapt out the window.” In his mind he was considering that his greatest performance of all time, the performance in which he had escaped and made himself disappear. “I used to juggle knives and do tumbling acts. I can also play the flute and sing.” Looking back up at her he would smile confidently.

“Quite a feat indeed, and I’m sure you are good at all the skills you have learned.” At the mention of killing someone she smiled again, yes this was turning out better and better every minute. Aramas the half-fiend was turning into a prime candidate and she gave him a tight squeeze around his shoulders. “I have a proposition for you Aramas, would you like to learn more skills and go back and make Cilas pay for killing your mother?” The proposition was out and it seemingly hung for a moment in the air and she watched the young man for signs of approval or for signs of disapproval.

The reactions she was looking for did happen, eyes would narrow and his fingers would clench into fists. The thoughts of vengeance had assaulted his thinking for years and he was finally getting a chance to make Cilas pay for what he had done. “Yes, I would like that very much thank you.”

Meria almost clapped her hands in glee as he accepted the proposition and she got the signs she was looking for. Yes, he would be a wonderful tool in her arsenal and she would have him trained properly. A certain organization in Westgate owed her a favor and she would soon be cashing in on it. “Then it is settled my dear boy, but I will warn you know the path will be hard and you may have to do certain things for me that I will reveal to you at later moments.”

“As long as I get to kill Cilas I will do whatever you ask of me.” Fists would finally unclench and he would look up at her and nod, darkness was already growing deep in his heart and soon it would be released upon the object of his complete hatred.

“I thought that’s what you would say, so we will start immedialty, well tomorrow. Right now I will have my servants tend to you, get you some food and a bath. Then you will sleep, because tomorrow your quest to be come an assassin will begin. Ezalius is waiting outside go to him and he will show you where to stay.” They would hop off the table together and she would escort him to the door and usher him out, before closing the door behind him and laughing darkly. Yes, her own personal assassin she liked the sound of that, and she was pretty sure Aramas had liked it as well. This night was coming to an end and tomorrow was going to be a wonderful new beginning, a dark beginning but still. She would sit back down at her table and look back at her scrolls and smile. Yes, a new beginning…

Posted: Fri Jan 04, 2008 1:03 am

Over the next few months a series of training exercises would develop teaching Aramas how to fight with a variety of different weapons. Initially they focused on long swords, and other martial weapons, and even included heavy armor, until the realized that it would only hamper his natural agility and speed. Although he was young and inexperienced he learned quickly and it wasn’t long before he had focused on a single set of weapons, mostly of the smaller bladed variety. Daggers, kukris, shortswords, and throwing knives became his close friends and he started to use them with deadly and precise efficiency. Hand to hand combat was introduced and combining that with his already lethal skill set Aramas quickly became a whirling dervish of destruction. Speed and agility were his best friends, as was his ability to channel his Ki and flash back and forth from the corporeal world, to the incorporeal. Life disappeared and all that he focused on was becoming a deadly combatant, and thoughts of vengeance kept his body going when it was weary.

Of course during this time Meria had taken the opportunity to find out all she could about this young man, even traveling to Westgate herself to conduct her investigations. There was a 5000 gold prize on his head for the person who brought him in alive, 3000 if he was dead. It would appear that Cilas wanted his favorite performer back, and he would get him back, just not in the way he was going to want. At her behest he was always trained in some of the Arcane arts, one couldn’t always fight everything with a blade, she had said. 5 years had eventually passed with this routine everyday and at the end of 5 years, Aramas had become the deadliest combatant that she possessed, easily besting any of her created creatures or staff. Although she knew if he ever rebelled against him she might be in trouble, she still took great pride in the warrior and man that he was becoming. 5 years of intense training with both combat and magic had turned him into a devastating warrior and shortly after the three year mark he would get his chance at vengeance.

The city of Westgate was never silent, but the people that moved within often were. None more silent then the dark figure lithely slipping from rooftop to rooftop, his figure a silhouette against the moon. One last jump and he would silently land on top of the roof of a very well known in, the Onyx Dragon. Green eyes would rotate in his head looking up at the night sky, tongue flicking over his lips before a maniacal grin would curl upon them. The building had been cased for days, best routes for undetected entry would be contemplated and on his last night he had simply gotten lucky, it was hot and a window on the top floor had been left open to take advantage of the cool breeze. An approaching storm was on the air, and he could smell the rain coming, it was funny how to of his most important life events had taken place in the darkness of night, with only the rain to embrace him. Slipping to the edge of the roof he would grip the edge and yank himself down and into the window. Hands would come up immediately each flinging a small blackened dagger in opposite directions. Two guards would fall to the ground, clutching black spikes of death protruding from vital areas, one in the throat and the other in his heart.

Silent movement would be made to the end of the hall and the lock on the door of Cilas’ master bedroom quickly and easily picked. Hinges creaked as the door was half opened and Aramas would stop, wondering if Cilas had awakened. Slightly pointed ears would listen for any sounds, he could hear snoring, and he could smell the stench of the man, along with the scent of something sweeter, perfume. The door would shut behind him and he would easily make his way through the darkened room, thanks to his in born dark vision. Sitting down in a chair at the foot of the bed he would slowly tap his foot on the bed until both of its occupants had awoken. Cilas with a start, letting out a slurred. “Who’s there?”

“And before him sat the demon prince, to take his soul to the abyss, enternal torment would be his.” Both of them were out of the bed and the woman had almost let out a scream when she saw the burning green eyes of the fiend before her. Almost, it was lost as a prepared fireball was hurtled through the air at her, engulfing her in its magical inferno. Back she would go, hurtling through the air and out the window to land in the street below. Drapes would be lit on fire and now Cilas could see the face of his killer. Aramas for the most part looked the same, but addition to size, and the effects of aging, two small red tattoos had been applied to his face. Lines that would trace from the outside corners of his eyes to his cheekbones and then down to his jaw line, giving his face the illusion of crying blood. He could hear Cilas gasp and saw him go for his favorite club, Aramas was quickly on his feet. The club was flying through the air and Cilas had a wicked grin on his face as he knew he was going to hit his mark, but much to his surpise the club passed through the ghostly apparition that Aramas had become.

Horror would be apparent in the man’s eyes as he went to scream, but Aramas’ body had returned to the corporeal world and he had placed a vicious laceration to the bigger man’s throat. The only sound that came out was the gurgle of him choking on his own blood. Cilas’ eyes would see the face again and that face would be the last thing he ever saw as his eyes went dull and he passed on to the next world. His body would be hefted and a dagger would be driven through each wrist and used to pin him to the wall. Then he would drive a longer one through crossed ankles to pin him in a morbid display. Chest would be opened up with a dagger and the fresh heart would be pulled forth and placed in a brown leather sack and then replaced at his waist. The only thing that would remain in the room for the fast approaching city watch was the crucified body and the sound of the bells attached to each dagger blowing softly in the breeze from the open window.

Eyes would peek out the window seeing his destination. A cloud of shadow would engulf his body and swirl into a tiny mote before reappearing on the nearby rooftop across the street and spit him out. No hesitation and he would start running across the roof of the building, black cloak was thrown back and away, as he ran. Thunder boomed in the night sky and the rain came in torrents, helping to hide his escape. Ducking and dodging through the city streets he finally made his way to the outside of the city and retreated into the cave that had become his base of operations over the last few weeks. A wicked smile would form on his lips as the heart would be produced from the bag and he would hold it in his hand. It was still partially warm and he would place it inside of a small wooden box. His hands were wiped clean and he would lean back into his blankets, watching the fire, the sick grin still twisted on his features. Aramas had his vengeance.

Aramas had quickly made his way from his cave out deeper into the area surrounding Westgate before he would use the teleportation device that Meria had given to him, for quickly traveling from the tower to the city. It took him directly to the main chamber of the tower, giving Meria a start as Aramas popped out of thin air in a bluish swirl. A few steps towards her desk and he would drop the wooden box on top of it and take a few steps back. Meria’s eyes would drift up from the box to the seemingly tired face of the young assassin before her. Lifting the lid she would look down to see the heart of what had been Aramas’ most hated enemy and his vengeful obsession since the night he had been carried into her tower. Smiling softly she would look up to him as he stood there, expression blank. No doubt he was thinking of what would occupy his time now that he had accomplished a major goal of his young life. Of course she had known that Cilas was dead thanks to the item she had placed in his allowing her to see his progress through a crystal she kept hidden away in her lab. Standing she would move around the desk to slowly wrap and arm around the shorter fiend’s shoulders. He smelled of blood and dirt, two things she quite enjoyed and she would bring him into an embrace.

“We will talk of this later, right now you need rest. Come, stay with me in my chambers.” She would take his hand and lead him out of the back of the room into her private chambers and to the bed. Of course she wasn’t planning on doing anything more with him then letting him sleep, she figured a nice comfy bed would be a welcomed change of pace from his sparse quarters and the hard ground he had been sleeping on for the last few weeks.

Aramas’ thoughts were indeed a swirling, unstable mess as he stood there, and even more as she embraced him and pressed his head down onto her full chest yet again after they had reached her chambers. Equipment, weapons, and clothing would be stripped off his dark body by gentle pale fingers and then he would be pushed back into bed. Silken sheets were a welcome feeling as he had not had a proper bed in the last three years, approving of the sparse conditions to toughen his young body up. Eyes were closed as he was engulfed in the luxurious bed and in a few moments joined under its perfumed sheets, by a very naked Meria. Unexpected, but he would deal with that later. The last thing his tired mind would grasp was the feeling of her naked body pressed to his before his eyes closed.

Posted: Tue Jan 08, 2008 11:41 pm

A shift of his body in his sleep and then his eyes would slowly open. They would move back and forth taking in his location, before his memory started to serve him. Pale arms were wrapped around him, causing sharp contrast to his dark skin. No movement would be made and he would lay there and blink. He didn’t know what to make of this situation. Confusing thoughts and strange feelings bombarded him from every angle until he slipped out from her arms and slid out of the bed managing to do so without waking her. Clothes, equipment, and weapons would be picked up and then he would silently exit her chambers. Clothes and what little armor he wore would be put back on along with his weapons, and he would go back to his chambers.

Meria would wake sometime later eyes would remain closed and she would hesitantly reach out to see if Aramas was still in the bed. It didn’t surprise that he had already left; she hadn’t expected him to stay long. Letting out a breath she would throw back the blankets and stand up, stretching before looking out her window. The sky was overcastted and it looked like it was going to rain. No sooner had the thought made its way through her brain thunder boomed outside and small drops of rain started to hit the glass. She would move to her wardrobe and pick something out to wear for the day and hurriedly get dressed. Her black hair was brushed and left down cascading down her shoulders to end around the middle of her back. She would exit her chambers and make her way out into her study; eyes would fall on the wooden box on the desk. Where was he?

He wasn’t even in the tower he was standing on the top of it, thunder crashing around his dark form. Rain would coat his body and his face would be upturned to the sky, eyes closed. This probably wasn’t the safest place to be at the time and he would certainly get a lecture from Meria about the dangers of being out in a storm, but that was fine with him. Aramas loved the rain, and he loved the storms. Everything was washed away and there always the chance for destruction with every lighting bolt that slashed through the darkened sky. Rain had soaked him and he decided it was time to go back inside; one last thunder boom and he had ducked back inside the tower. Shaking water from his limbs he would start down the stairs, but as he passed Meria’s study something didn’t feel right. Slowly he would slide a kukri out of its sheath at his waist, and then another one for his other hand. A soft escape of a held breath and through the door he went.

It probably wasn’t the best I did to run through a door armed, but in this case it might have been. Three men in all black were in the study, black and white masks covered their faces. Steel met steel as a reverse gripped kukri met a short sword. A feral growl escaped Aramas’ lips as he pushed back against the larger man, shoving him backwards towards the table. Surprise would have been evident on the man’s face as this seemingly young boy overpowered him, but then there was a bark of an order in a language that he did not recognize and all eyes turned to the other man who had yelled. Meria eyes would meet Aramas’ and then he would nod and sheath the blades, before moving to stand beside the seated Meria. The three men would move to stand in front of the desk and the one in the middle who obviously was the leader started to speak.

“We are here as representatives of the Night Masks. You made a mistake coming into our city and murdering one of our more important associates, but we did take note of the skill displayed and have come to make an offer. Consider yourselves lucky, normally we would have just killed you already.” A cocky smirk made its way to his lips, and it only made Aramas bristle, how very much he would love to carve an even larger smile into that man’s flesh. Meria must have sensed the flare up of temper and she stood and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Ahh, so these are the famous Night Masks, or should I say infamous? What exactly are you offering my associates and I? I’m sure you don’t think we are going to do anything for your associates for free.” Smiling at the three men she would pat Aramas on the shoulder, taking note of the almost visible waves of anger rolling off the young man. Defiant to the end it would, but sometimes one had to know when to fight and went to broker a deal.

“We offer you a place amongst our organization and you will receive a percentage of wealth, just like every other member, also you will get to keep your lives for the moment. Because if you do not agree to this offer, we have been ordered to dispatch of you and take possession of all that is here.”

Well in that case we have no problem joining your ranks, but I prefer to stay here in my tower. Will that be a problem?”

“No, we were to let you know upon agreement that you are most welcome to stay in your tower, but our commander wishes for reports of your progress, holdings, and any other plans you might have for that one.” A finger would be pointed at Aramas and he would bristle again. “That is all. We will be making our leave now, and remember you do not kill anyone in the city of Westgate without our approval first, this is the only warning you have.” The three men turned and out of the study they would make their way out of the tower. A nervous breath would make its way out of Meria’s lung and she would turn to regard Aramas with a questioning look.

“Think you could have killed all three of them?” A small nod without any hesitation would have followed and she would smirk. “You think it would have been a good idea to kill them? I don’t think so.” Blank expression on his face as he would turn to make his way out of the room, eyes would follow him to the door. The amused look never left her face as she sat down at her desk. Why kill somebody they could obviously use? The Night Masks were a large powerful organization with lots of gold and information. Yes they would use the Night Mask until she saw fit to discard. Although she thought with an amusing grin, it would have been humorous to watch Aramas dismember all three of those cocky assassins. She had a feeling that things were going to get a lot more interesting in a very short period of time.

Posted: Thu Feb 14, 2008 7:11 am

It wouldn’t be a terribly long time until Aramas was summoned for his first official task for the Night Masks. The thought of having to answer to someone else made his demonic blood boil and he was aching for the day when he would get to watch one of his razor sharp daggers split the flesh of one of his new master’s throat. They felt threatened by him, it was obvious to him otherwise they wouldn’t have sent two other people with him for a job that he should have no problem handling on his own. A human male fighter and a female human cleric and both seemed to be more trouble then they were worth. Their task or more decidedly his task was to retrieve a set of scrolls that were in the tomb ahead. Aramas had no problem seeing through the darkness, but the other two didn’t have the luxuries of his fiendish and elven blood and were very stupidly carrying torches. That was why he had left them a cavern back while he scouted ahead.

Slow, silent movement would bring him around the corner and pointed ears would pick up voices ahead of him. Pushing back against the cold stone wall he would peek around the corner and see figures moving in the light of torches in the large cavern ahead of him. There was four of them, two of them young males, wore chain mail armor and one a female, was covered in a black cloak and the last, and elderly man was hurling out orders in a raspy voice. Sharp eyes would take note of the cavern, would have been nice to have another way in, but not everything was nice. Retracing his path back to where he left his accomplices he would emerge out of darkness into their torch light with a blank expression.

“There is four of them and they have torches. Only one way into the cavern so I’ll go first. Aric you follow and engage the two armored men and Serina you stay back and support us. After you see me make the initial strike you follow in.” One of the fingers from his black six fingered hands would poke out at the heavily armored Aric. “And for heaven’s sake be quiet. No torches hold onto my weapon harness and I’ll guide you through the passage, and Serina you hold onto him.” Nodding as the torches were thrown away he would turn to start down the passage and scowl as he felt the bigger man’s fingers curl around the weapon harness that was strapped to his torso. Guiding them back down the passage he would stop at that corner and press back against the stone again. Peeking he would see them dragging a skeleton out of a large stone box and drop it. That’s where the scrolls had to be. Turning back to his accomplices he would nod and then slip out a dagger in his right hand and a reversed gripped kukri in his left. They did likewise Aric had a battle axe, and Serina a mace.

“Alright, I’m teleporting and when you see me disappear, then count to three and charge in.” Another nod and he would peek around the corner again letting his eyes settle on the empty space behind the cloaked woman whom he decided would be their cleric. His form would disappear in a cloud of shadow and then spit him out a few feet from the cleric. No hesitation in his strike as that dagger would be driven through the back of her neck and out the front of her throat. The sudden shock and surprise of the attack would cause her to drop the staff she had in her hand to the ground with a loud clatter. The other three would turn quickly and shout in surprise at the sight of their dying comrade. One of the men in armor was first to reach him and he heard the roar of Aric as he charged into combat with the other armored figure.

He heard the chant of the spell caster and he would duck the first attack from a large great sword.The slash would go wide over his attack, but the man would turn with the momentum of the attack and strike out low on him intending to cut his smaller ducking form in two. A quick spring upward and he would clear that attack as well. In mid air both of his feet would shoot out forward and plant full into the armored man’s chest. The force of the attack would send him careening backwards and off his feet. Using that force Aramas would easily turn a back flip and land in a crouch even further away then his starting position. His green eyes would take note of the situation in time to see a barrage of magic missiles slam into Aric and send him flying across the cavern to slam into the rock wall hard. That man was sprinting towards Aric with a hammer high expecting to land a killing blow. For not being able to handle that fighter Aramas thought he should let Aric die, but he didn’t need 3 against 1 odds. The dagger would be ripped from his booth sheath and he would hurl it at the attacker charging his dazed comrade. The sharpened missile would cut through the air and do its deadly work; the blade sank into the unarmored back of the charging man’s knee. A scream and he would fall to the ground in a heap. The throw would be followed with a malicious grin until a great sword threatened to remove his head again.

Rolling backwards away from his attacker he would come to his feet and pull the other kukri free from its sheath. Waiting for his attacker to foolish charge in and lead with a angled chop that probably would have cleaved him from shoulder to hip. Would have if he would have stayed in the same position, but instead he spun on his outside foot and around his attacker. The blade would flash out and bite deeply into the man’s neck. Not stopping to pull it the blade free he let his hand leave the hilt and started running forward. He had to get to that spell caster! As he neared the spell caster turned on him and flung a fireball that he barely managed to dodge by diving to the side and then rolling back to his feet. Aramas wasn’t close enough to strike with his weapons in hand, but instead he would hurl the kukri at the spell caster. End over end it would fly until in sunk into the man’s chest with a satisfying thunk. Aramas would move forward and pull the blade out of his chest and wipe it off on him before sheathing it. The dull thud of an axe blade meeting flesh would echo in his ears and he would turn to see Aric finishing of his opponent. That wasn’t what caught his eye it was the gleaming oval of energy that had appeared when Aric had been smashed into the wall.

Clicking his tongue while he looked at that portal and then he would move around the cavern and grab his weapons and at the same time he would cut a small silver bell off his belt and leave it with his kills. His accomplices would let their eyes move to that circle of energy and they would stand there staring at it for a moment. Shaking his head at them he would walk over to the coffin and yank out the scrolls. Nothing he was interested in, he was in fact more interested in that portal that had sprung up. Black fingers would push the scrolls at Serina and he would scowl.

“Take those back to Westgate I’m gonna check this portal out.” She started to say something back to him and he would snarl. “Now!” They both would nod and leave him to his own devices. His eyes would turn back to the gateway and he would let out a breath. The thing seemed to be calling his name, drawing him in. He would stick his hand through the yellow circle of energy cautiously. When nothing grabbed him and yanked him in he would nod confidently close his eyes and step through it. Green glowing eyes would open to view a huge city in front of him. Turning back to the portal he would see that it was gone. Shadows rose up from the ground and into the darkened sky above him, the city ahead of his was massive and within it stood massive palace of ivory towers.

He knew exactly where he was at… The Abyss.

Posted: Sun Feb 17, 2008 2:28 am

Rumor was the Abyss was a place of untold wealth, if one managed to survive the dangers that lurked around every corner. The feel of it is what had Aramas stopped in his tracks in front of an ivory arch into the city in front of him. The place felt like home, or closer to home then anything he had ever experienced. Measured steps would take him through that arch into the hustle and bustle of the city. He could feel eyes on him and whenever he turned to face them the people would turn away and hushed words would be whispered. What was going on? The reasons for the behavior would continue to elude him until he reached a bustling marketplace. Outside of what appeared to be an inn or sorts sat tables and at the tables sat patrons and at one of the particular tables sat someone who took notice in the young half-fiend. His skin was red and spotted with patches of scales, eyes were also red and large horns similar to a ram’s stuck out of his head, and his mouth was curled up into a nasty smirk. Patting one of his friends he would point at Aramas and they would both start laughing loudly and a third would join in. Aramas would turn to them black six-fingered hand brushing softly against the hilt of a dagger. “Do you find something funny? Tell me and I shall join in on the laugher.” It had occurred to him that he was probably the center of the laughter, but he would at least give them a try at redemption.

“Ooh look another wayward prince comes to feed off his father’s power.” Aramas’ eyes would narrow and the comment and he would shake his head softly. What was he talking about? Wayward Prince? Taking a few steps closer those fingers would tighten around the dagger and he would speak to the group. Others sensing the tension would quickly and quietly remove themselves from the table and anywhere close by that would be considered in the line of fire.

“Wayward prince? What are you talking about?” The group ahead of him would eye each other a few times before busting into large peals of laughter. Clawed fists would bang down on the table as they struggled to sit from laughing so hard. Hoots of he doesn’t even know would arise from the three laughing and it would only make Aramas’ blood boil. He would make those three eat their laughter. Reaching out into the air he would carve a slice of shadow from around him and hurl it at the leader of the three. They would watch in amazement as the shadow flew through the air and then hit him around the throat and tightening. His eye would bulge as the shadow tightened around his neck and started to slowly strangle him. Hands would futilely claw at his neck trying to free himself to be able to breathe, but it was to no avail. His friends would attempt to help, but they couldn’t and when they figured that out they leap up in rage and charged at Aramas. Aramas would fling that dagger free from his belt to catch the lead man with it full in his chest, stopping his forward motion with a delightful scream. It was like music to his ears and he would simply let a smirk curl on his features as the other one stopped. Wild eyes would look to his comrades then back to Aramas, who would motion him forward. He didn’t charge instead he would turn and run down the street fear evident in his scream.

Aramas would swagger forward and grab his dagger out of the twitching body and of course drop a silver bell with him then move to sit down next to the still choking man and put his feet up on the table and leaning back in his chair, his elbows resting on the back of it. The struggling sound of him trying to breathe brought amusement to his face and he would wait until it ceased rise from his chair. The shadow slipped from the fiend’s neck and dissipated having done is darkened work. The man was collapsed forward on the table and Aramas would put fingers to his throat to see if he dead. The fiend was in fact not quite dead yet, he was unconscious but still alive. Whistling softly he would draw a kukri from his form and bring it down heavily on the fiend’s neck to sever his head from his body in two bloody chops. Chuckling he would open the mouth of the head sitting on the table and stick one of his silver bells in it. The purse of gold would also be lifted off his body before Aramas would return to his chair and then push the corpse to the ground with a foot.

An amused laugh would escape his dark lips as the body would hit the ground and people would stare at it. Reaching forward he would grab the glass of what his victim had been drinking out of and give it a sniff. The sniff was followed by a quick shrug and then he would drain the reminder of the wine that was inside. The owner would come over and start to clean off the table and Aramas would hand him some money for the drink and the mess before moving off. Little did he know somebody had been watching him from a shadowed alleyway and as soon as he left would scuttle off to report his findings to someone far more dangerous then any group of fiendish thugs.

Posted: Mon Feb 18, 2008 12:12 am

It wouldn’t be long before Aramas’ wandering would attract the eye of someone residing in one of those ivory towers. And in turn it wouldn’t be long before Aramas was being presented with a formal invitation to enter the palace. His messenger a little fat fiend with a smooshed face and green slimy looking skin would lead him to the gate of the palace. The gates would swing up on their own as they reached them and Aramas would be led into the palace. There was something about what was going on, coupled with the things that had been said by those fiends in the marketplace that had Aramas feeling uneasy about this whole situation. The doors behind them would slam shut and gates would drop down over the hallway and he would look around quickly. A click above him would draw his attention and he would dive to the side in enough time to get out of the way of the falling creature that was coming at him. Aramas would shoulder roll back to his feet and turn to face his opponents.

What he saw with his eyes was something he had never seen before, and didn’t know what it was. It was a tall pale skinned humanoid that was completely naked and had no body hair, genitals, or what looked like a mouth. All it had was a deformed head and 2 ghostly looking white eyes. No time to converse with it though he drew his weapons and then felt a cold, tingling sensastion start to envelope his body. It felt like something was drawing the life out of him and he would look at the creature staring intently at him. Aramas would flip up that dagger and catch it by the blade before hurling it at the creature. It would plunge deeply into one of those lifeless eyes and he would feel the sensation go away. The creature would let out a hiss and its fingers would come up to his eye

His other little companion wasn’t faring to well and it made him think that maybe the lord of this castle didn’t care much for his subjects as he watched the small creature scurry about in vain attempts to escape their cage. Kukris would be drawn and he would continue a frenzied assault on the creature in front of him. He never wanted to feel that life draining experience again. Slashes would cover the pale creatures skin as he repeatedly cut at it. With one final blow he would sink a kukri through his shoulder at an downward angle. It would sink through the soft tissue and bone until it rested in the creature’s chest. Dark fingers would release the blade and he would turn quickly to see the other one rip the small fiend in half in a grotesque display of strength.

No time to waste and he would rush forward drawing his short sword as he went. The creatures back was still to him and he would almost let out a laugh of victory as he drove that sharpened sword through its back. The blade would continue forward until it protruded from the creature’s stomach and he would let it go. Pride was something Aramas had and he thought the creature was done. His guard was down and he wasn’t expecting the creature to whirl around on him and smash him with a muscular arm directly in his chest. The sensation of feeling weightless would accompany him as he flew across the room and slammed into the wall with a grunt and grimace of pain etched into his young features. Slowly coming back to his feet as the monster started toward him he would slip another dagger from his belt and throw it at the monster. That dagger would be followed by another, then another until three daggers were protruding from the creature’s chest and it kept coming. He was in some serious trouble until it reached the other body and tried to step over it, but fell to the ivory floor. Letting out a breath he would waste no time in running over and severing both the heads from the creatures with quick chops of his short sword. No way he wanted those things getting back up.

Aramas would be pulling his weapons free of bodies when he heard someone clapping from above him. Looking up he couldn’t see anything above him, but suddenly he felt weightless again and he started floating upwards into the darkness above him. Weapons were still drawn when he had been set down to face the person who had brought him to the castle. A gasp would shoot forth from his lungs and his weapons would hit the ground with a clatter. The man he was looking was an almost perfect mirror image of him. Except that he had six horns on his head and was much bigger. Black gleaming armor would cover his kin and he would have a great sword resting across his shoulder. A demonic smile would grace the demon’s features and he would speak to Aramas.

“Welcome to Azzagrat my son…”