A Scorpion Undreamed Of [An Age Undreamed Of]

[Vanman]

Name: Scorpion


Caste: Night


Concept: Bounty Hunter


Motivation: For ST's eyes


Anima: A huge, golden scorpion, wreathed in shimmering purple, with a blazing sun surrounding the stinger.


Str: xxx


Dex: xxxxx


Sta: xxxx


Cha: xx


Man: xxx


App: xx


Per: xxxx


Int: xx


Wit: xxx


Dawn


MARTIAL ARTS xxxx


THROWN xxx


Zenith


INTEGRITY xx


PRESENCE xx


RESISTANCE x


SURVIVAL xxx


Twilight


Investigation xxx


Lore x


Occult x


Night


Athletics xxx


Awareness xxx


Dodge xx


Larceny xx


Stealth xxx


Eclipse


Linguistics xx


Ride x


Favored and Caste abilities in Bold


Languages:


Riverspeak


Flametongue


Forest-Tongue


Backgrounds


Artifact xxx – Poilas


Artifact xx – Silken Armor


Contacts xxx


Resources xx


Essence: xxx


Personal: 16


Peripheral: 38 (Committed – 10)


Willpower: xxxxx xxx


Virtues


Compassion: xx


Conviction: xxx


Temperance: xx


Valor: xxx


Charms


First Awareness Excellency


First Thrown Excellency


Joint Wounding Attack


Keen Sight Technique


Ox-Body Technique


Triple Distance Attack Technique


Demure Carp Feint (DPCS)


Pearlescent Filigree Defense (DPCS)


Lethal Paper Fan Attack (DPCS)


Dreaming Pearl Courtesan Form (DPCS)

 

[Vanman]

Scorpion


My life began simply. But don’t most lives begin that way? My father was a blacksmith, but he died soon after I was born. It’s debatable whether dear old Dad was an actual blacksmith. It’s Mom who said he was a blacksmith. If he was a blacksmith, he must not have been a very good one. How do I know? Because good blacksmiths don’t live in Nighthammer. Okay, let me re-phrase that. Some good blacksmiths live in Nighthammer. None of them live in Nightside. That’s where we lived. It was one of the many floods that took my father. Again, this is according to Mom. The problem with relying on Mom for memories? Only that she was strung out on heroin until her own death, some 8 years later.


I know what you’re asking yourself. How did my mother pay for her addiction when she was…well…addicted? An excellent question. And the answer is simple. She was a whore. Is having a whore for a mother conducive to a peaceful, stress-free childhood? Particularly considering she was a smack addict? Well, what do you think? When I wasn’t trying to move Mom after she got her fix, cleaning up the vomit after one of her binges, dealing with her delusions during one of the many times to kick the habit, picking through garbage heaps in an effort to find enough food to keep us alive (because this is Nexus – stealing has extreme downsides), ducking out of sight of customers so that Mom could try and get the rent money, covering my head when one of those selfsame customers found me and decided to take out his frustration by beating me, and trying to prevent the other customers who didn’t beat me from beating my mother, then yes, life was just dandy.


Because Mother had little time for me, I spent most of my time on my own. Granted, most of this time was spent trying to make our lives a bit easier, but that was no easy task. I did manage to make some friends, however. They were mostly street urchins and other children of destitute means. We played in the floodwaters of the district. We even, one time, tried to have Black Snowball fights. That didn’t go over too well with the majority of parents. If they even noticed. Needless to say, our clothes were dirty for quite some time after. Again, the time spent with these friends was not, at first, considerable. As previously mentioned, I had enough on my plate trying to deal with my mother. But those friendships would prove to be pivotal when Mother did die.


Die she did, too, when I was 8 years old. I don’t suppose it’s surprising she died from a heroin overdose. She did. I don’t suppose it’s surprising I was kicked out of the hovel we lived in. I was. I don’t suppose it’s surprising that I had to fight to remain alive. I did. I don’t suppose it’s surprising life was hell on the mean streets of Nexus. It was. I don’t suppose it’s surprising I fell in with a bad crowd. I did. I don’t suppose it’s surprising all of this was necessitated by a desire to remain alive. It was. I don’t suppose it’s surprising I will tell you of some of that time. I will.


Needless to say, I was somewhat distraught when my mother passed away. My grief did not dissuade the landlord from evicting me from the flat. He did not waste any time. I was on the street two days after Mom died. Truth be told, I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I wandered the streets for a couple of days, scrounging for food, begging, and crying. A lot. Only at night, and only when alone, but I did cry. Being 8 years old, on the streets, with no friendly faces, is not a pleasant place to be. Lack of food finally overcame my fear of the Dogma. That’s right. I stole food. Not much, and I quaked in fear whilst I did so, but the fact remains that I did, indeed, commit larceny. I was looking over my shoulder for months, convinced the Emissary would swoop down upon me, pulling my entrails out through my mouth, using my skin as an umbrella cover and my bones as the umbrella structure. It wasn’t a fun time, to say the least.


Not that any of my time on the streets of Nexus was fun. There were fun interludes, to be sure, but most of my time was spent avoiding one sort of predator or another, be it angry merchants, hostile mercenaries or other street urchins. Speaking of street urchins, remember those friends I mentioned earlier? Well, they pretty much saved my life. Like I said, I was on the street, trying to eke out a living, looking for a place to stay, avoiding the hazards that beset me on every side. On the fourth afternoon after my eviction, I ran into Ton Jomas. Ton was one of the friends who participated in the black snowball fight. In fact, I think he was the one who suggested it. Nevertheless, I was alone, scared, and exceedingly tired. I ran into Ton in River Park. I don’t remember what I was doing there, but in many ways, it was fortuitous that I was. Ton took one look at me and knew I was in a bad way.


Ton was a stunningly beautiful boy, and he was charismatic. Wherever he went, people – in this case, kids, but later, that group would expand – followed him. He was a natural leader. Ton was several years older than I was, but he’d spent most of his life on the streets. He knew what it was to be a homeless child on the streets of Nexus. As such, he understood some of what I was going through. He knew I wanted – or needed – to belong somewhere. Whether he took me in because of some streak of altruism or because of more self-serving motivations, I’ll never know. The simple fact is he did take me in. I don’t know if being brought to the Undercity can be said to be taken in – there are many who would say death would have been better – but to me, the Undercity was a wonder.


Having dealt with my mother for the majority of my life, there was always a sense of responsibility that hung over everything I did. I had to find food, clean the flat, take care of my mother – in short, I was the man of the house. The Undercity represented a freedom, of sorts. I was not responsible for anyone but myself. I was taken to a collection of ramshackle shacks and hovels, wherein a whole cavalcade of children came and went. Some stayed for a night, others stayed for weeks; still others seemed never to leave. They all had one thing in common, though – they had no parents. This place was an orphanage, run by and for children. This, too, was a wonder to me.


Now, staying here did have its price. There was no rent, at least not in silver or jade. Instead, rent was paid in service. Ton was the brain trust behind the “orphanage†– or Nexus Orphan’s Trust, as Ton used to call it – and he used it to benefit its members. Those benefits were provided by the membership itself. We were used as messengers, spies – because who paid attention to children? – lookouts, distractions, cheap labor and pickpockets. In short, whatever provided money and, by extension, security.


Ton even had classes set up. Many of the “duties†we performed didn’t require training. If we were called on to deliver a message, all we needed to know is where to go. Similarly, if we were used as lookouts, all we had to know was for what we were looking out. On the other hand, if we were going to pick pockets, we had to know whose pocket to pick and whose to stay away from. The danger in picking a pocket was knowing who were merchants and who were simply rich nobles. If we picked the pocket of a trader, or Guild member, on official business, then we violate the Dogma. That’s something no one wanted. So Ton held classes designed to teach us how to spot a merchant, and some tell tale signs that that merchant was on official business. These classes were benefited by the NOT’s relationship with the Guild. The Guild, being the preeminent trading organization in Nexus – and some say the world – knew the value of an organization like ours. Much of the spying we did, we did on behalf of the Guild. About eighty percent of the messages we ran, we ran for the Guild. We were cheap and, since most of us could not read, there was no danger of messages being read whilst in transit.


I would hope it would be obvious that some of my current training found its beginnings with the NOT. Picking pockets, second story work, fencing – in fact, those illicit skills attributed to thieves – were all skills I learned in the Undercity. Long work as a spy allowed me to hone my observation skills. Living on the street taught me how to survive. Moving silently came in handy, as did learning how to run. Conflict with other children – and even some adults – showed us the benefits of knowing how to handle ourselves in a scuffle. I do not mean to sound pedantic, but this does become important in the next phase of my tale.


Six years passed in this fashion. The NOT chartered our services to all who would buy them. Often by undercutting other similar organizations. All the while, Ton sat at the head of our little tribe, overseeing the health of both the society and its members. In time, I became one of his lieutenants. I didn’t have anywhere near his organizational skills, but I had other skills. I was one who trained the spies, and the pickpockets, and others with more specialized skill sets. I also undertook some of the more important ventures we were contracted to carry out.


Until. Until we were called upon to do the Silver Ripples job. Up to this point, we were, to be honest, small time. Yes, we performed acts that were morally….ambiguous, but we never dipped our feet into serious crime. The Silver Ripples job was intended to change all that. Silver Ripples was a renowned dancer who performed at the Player’s Menagerie. She had a plethora of admirers. One of those admirers was a Guild member by the name of Gralen Fezwik. Simply put, he wanted Silver Ripples for himself. Fezwik wanted the opportunity to win the noted dancer over. He hired the NOT to…convince Silver Ripples to accompany Fezwik on a social outing. By force, if necessary. The job was very carefully planned. Silver Ripples was taking a “vacation†for a few days, to rest an injured ankle she had suffered during a performance. We were to make use of this vacation to “acquire†Silver Ripples and “escort†her to Fezwik, who would utilize his skills – and money – to win her over. If it didn’t work out, Silver Ripples would be returned. As it stood, the Dogma would not be violated, because no trade was being obstructed.


Unbeknownst to me at the time, Ton had seen Silver Ripples dance, and had fallen under her spell. He wanted the dancer for himself. Of course, he didn’t tell anyone this. He would have been foolish if he had. The job was carried out with no glitches. We were able to enter Silver Ripples home without a hitch, and we escorted her – politely, and without violence – to a safe house that had been set up for this purpose. Our plan was to have a guard on Silver Ripples until such time as Fezwik could make an appearance. Ton took the first watch, I was to take the second watch, and Rizor Nith, another lieutenant, was tasked with the third watch.


Imagine my surprise when I showed up at the safe house and no one was there. Imagine my panic when I showed up at the safe house and no one was there. My first instinct was to flee. I’m not proud about that, but that was the truth. I thought someone had taken Ton, and that thought frightened me. It’s strange what thoughts come into your head when you are panicking. I remembered seeing this old woman, when I was performing a spy job, who was visibly upset. Her stall had been robbed and she was, understandably, shaken. I’d seen other such vendors lash out, break down, or otherwise lose their cool. This woman, on the verge of such an outbreak, instead stood very still, took 10 deep breaths, and, during that time, seemed to calm herself. So that’s what I did. I stood very still. I closed my eyes. I took one deep breath, held it for several seconds, and then breathed out. As I did so, I imagined all that panic leaving with that breath. Surprisingly, I felt better. I did the same with the second breath, and the third. By the time I’d reached ten, I was calm.


The first thing to do, I knew, was to survey the domicile. If there were any clues, it would be in the house. It wasn’t a large house – two rooms and a kitchen at the back of the building. I went to the first room and just looked. I didn’t walk around, I didn’t tear the room up, I just looked. This was the room where Silver Ripples was supposed to sleep. The first thing I noticed was her belongings. Or the lack thereof. Wherever she was, she had her belongings with her. There was no sign of struggle. All of the furniture was in its place, and nothing was broken. So there was no violence. There were only four people who knew where Silver Ripples was being kept – Ton, myself, Rizor and Fezwik. Unless this was a completely random kidnapping – and that seemed unlikely, what with no signs of violence – it had to be an inside job.


That left two suspects. Ton and Rizor. I knew Rizor was staying at a brothel nearby. It would be easy enough to check where he was. A quick trip there confirmed that Rizor had not left the establishment since he arrived six hours earlier. That left Ton. I now thought about Ton, and his actions since we took this job. Now that I thought about it, there was an unusual eagerness about Ton whenever Silver Ripples was discussed. He was emphatic about taking the first watch. Conversation usually turned to Silver Ripples, and how she must be treated with the utmost care. It started to click. Ton was smitten with the dancer. He was left alone with her. He was extraordinarily good-looking, and extraordinarily persuasive. If Ton took it into his head to get the girl, I had no doubt he would be able to persuade her. Particularly knowing Fezwik was on his way to do the same. In Ton’s eyes, he was the preferable choice to the middle aged overweight Fezwik.


The problem, now, was twofold. First, our main client was the Guild. If we angered Fezwik – and, make no mistake, he was a major player in the Guild’s operations in Nexus – NOT would lose a large percentage of its income. Second, if Silver Ripples went missing for more than a couple of days, we were in danger of breaking the Dogma. Trade was obstructed, and done within the walls of Nexus. Our lives would be forfeit. There was only one choice. I would have to track Ton, find him, and return Silver Ripples before she was due to return.


That hunt was fueled by both fear and vengeance. I needed to find Ton before the full weight of the Dogma tore up the TON – and, more importantly, ME – into little pieces. Luckily, I don’t think Ton expected me to chase him. Or, if he did, I think he thought he’d be much farther away from Nexus before anyone came looking. I knew Ton had a few safe houses he didn’t think I knew about. He also needed supplies if he was going on the road. It was relatively easy to use my street contacts to find out what he’d purchased and where he was last seen. That would be the docks. He was going to use the river to get away. It didn’t take me long to gather what little gear I needed and I made my way to the Nighthammer Pool. Sure, the Nexus Pool handled most of the traffic heading out to the rivers, but that’s why Ton would use the Nighthammer Pool. Less chance of getting caught.


At the docks, I once again used my contacts to find that Ton had just boarded a ship heading southeast. I could see the ship from where I stood. Cold rage filled me, and I took off after that ship. I could see they were throwing off the lines, getting ready to depart. A lot of screams followed my frantic path to that ship, screams I ignored. I was focused. As I neared the berth the ship left from, the ship was about 40 feet away from the dock. At that moment, I saw Ton’s head pop out of the cabin. There was a smug look of satisfaction on his face. That look blossomed my rage into a blinding fury. Uncaring for my own safety, I continued my headlong charge down the dock, over two ships moored together, and then leapt – without thought for what would happen if I missed – toward the retreating ship. Some small part of my mind that still had rational thought relished the look on Ton’s face – that of amazement, wonder – and fear.


As my leap carried me toward the ship, I saw a rope dangling from the mast. The rope lay in my path, so I grabbed it. I used my momentum, which carried me out past the far side of the ship, to swing me around the mast and, as I headed back toward the cabin, I let go. Ton was just starting to move back into the cabin when my feet connected with his head, snapping it back violently. There was a satisfying thump as his unconscious body hit the floor. I stood there for a minute, breathing heavily. A ship hand rushed up to me, reaching for his cutlass, but the look in my eye pulled him up short. Such a commotion naturally brought the captain, breathing fire. He demanded to know what was going on, why I invaded his ship, and what was to prevent him from throwing me overboard. My response was simple: Ton broke the Dogma. The woman he’s with is a dancer with the Player’s Menagerie, and her abdication would result in a disruption of trade. Needless to say, we were back on the docks in half an hour.


I returned both Ton and Silver Ripples to Fezwik. I wasn’t going to have the Council breathing down my neck. And I’m sure Fezwik would point the finger in our direction should it come down to him or the NOT. The merchant prince was less than pleased, when I showed up at his place of business, that he lost his chance to impress Silver Ripples. But, being one for business, he did use the opportunity to make some money. One of Fezwik’s important income streams was a tailoring business. More specifically, he made dresses. Okay, so maybe he didn’t make the dresses, but his business did. He took the opportunity to cut a deal with Silver Ripples: he would pay her if she wore his attire exclusively, as well as provide her with outfits free of charge. This benefited both parties. Silver Ripples received the latest fashion, and Fezwik made sure his clothing was seen being worn by a famous performer.


I’m not sure what happened to Ton. He was taken into a back room when he arrived at Fezwik’s, and I never saw him again. Some say he was killed, some say he was sold to the Fae, and still others say he was sold into slavery. I don’t know and I don’t care. The Nexus Orphan’s Trust was taken over by Rizor. He managed to turn the NOT into a nice little criminal enterprise within a few years. Why didn’t I take over leadership? I got a better job offer. See, Fezwik was impressed with my initiative and skill in retrieving what Fezwik considered his property. He explained that one danger in the business world was a “client†who skipped out on his obligations. Oftentimes, it was necessary to chase down such a client. Fezwik liked what he saw in me. In short, he offered to pay for my training on the condition I come to work for him. Naturally, I accepted.


So it was that I started my training. Various skills were trained. My awareness. My tracking. My investigation. My stealth. My strength of mind. My survival skills. And, of course, my combat skills. I began my martial arts training, and I learned how to use thrown weapons. Now, a lot of this training was piece meal, and some of it was of exceedingly poor quality. Just like a lot of the bounty hunters out there. I received training from a number of bounty hunters. Some were very good. I learned a lot from those individuals. Others were next to useless. They were lucky, or had unusual connections that allowed them to make one or two collars. Their skills, though? Useless. This was the benchmark against which I would be measured? It was laughable.


I focused my efforts on learning as much as I could. And learn I did, often in spite of my “instructors.†The one exception was my martial arts instructor. He was a defrocked Immaculate monk, and he was very good at what he did. He was also a bit of a drunk, but he did know his combat training. I paid very close attention to his lessons, and, I think, took them to heart. Whenever a fight broke out, I was not found wanting. That much is certain. It took several years, but finally, my training ended. I was ready to go to work.


Fezwik did not waste any time putting me to work. To say I was strictly a bounty hunter is misleading. I was more than that. I went after whatever was needed - or lost – by the Guild. Someone skipped out on his debts? I was sent. A shipment was stolen from a warehouse? I was assigned to track the shipment down. Information was needed on a rival? I was delegated to uncover that information. At first, it was the money that attracted me. I’d never been on the receiving end of a good paycheck. This was a revelation to me. Unfortunately, my lack of means meant I had no concept of how to save money. So I didn’t. Working for the Guild had certain…benefits. If I desired anything, be it drugs, alcohol, whores or ill-gotten gains, I could find it. If I could find it, I could pay for it. And pay for it I did. This was useful to the Guild, because they knew I’d always need the money they provided.


Until that fateful job. One of the merchant princes entered into a business deal with one very shady customer by the name of Zyphan Kale. Kale was a nasty piece of work – slaver, strong-arm man, kidnapper, murder – and con artist. It was in this last capacity that interested the Guild. Because he managed to con the merchant prince previously mentioned into a deal that cost the prince a…well…princely sum of money. So the Guild wanted me to track down Kale and return him – and more importantly, the money – to Nexus. I set out on the trail shortly after receiving the assignment. Zale’s trail took him east and a little south – toward what I would later learn to be Walker’s Realm. I still to this day don’t know if that played any part in the events that followed, but it certainly would serve as poetic irony if it did.


The chase took me some distance toward Walker’s Realm, but I was making good progress. In fact, I was making great progress. I saw where he was camping and was waiting for night to fall. I’d gotten good at seeing in the dark, and the moon was full. It would be an easy grab. And it would’ve been. Had it not been for them. I made a stealthy approach, watched as he fell asleep, and then slipped into his camp. I used some ether to make sure Kale remained unconscious and was in the process of tying him up when a slight noise alerted me to company. In an instant, two monsters beset me upon. They were faster than anyone I’d ever seen before. I’d seen the martial arts tournaments held in Nexus, and I saw fighters there that would take your breath away. These two were faster. I knew I wouldn’t stand a chance against them. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t fight. I wasn’t going to roll over and play dead.


The fight was brutal – and I felt my death coming closer. My war yo-yos – yes, I know they sound silly, but in the hands of an effective combatant, they can be quite deadly – were having little effect on the two warriors. Still I struggled on. Then I saw it. The blade was falling toward me, and I knew my death was imminent. It was at that moment that I felt a great surge of power well up inside me. Words can’t possibly explain the feeling, so I won’t try. I’m sure you’ve read some fancied up account of what happens when a person Exalts. It’s all just words that have no hope of conveying the feeling of union, wholeness and…well…power that comes with Exaltation. Needless to say, the Unconquered Sun’s blessing saved my life that night. Sunlight burst from my forehead, and I saw surprise register in the eyes of my assailants. Now the fight took on a new timbre.


It was at this point that I saw a dark, necrotic energy that mirrored the mark on my own forehead. I didn’t know it at the time, but I sensed a dark, twisted kinship with these two warriors. Unfortunately, I was new to my powers. They were enough to keep me alive, but they weren’t enough to prevent the two combatants from completing their mission. What mission was that? Taking Kale. They stole my bounty. That really chapped my ass. I’ll get Kale back. That much is true. And maybe I’ll find out who those two Deathknights are. Because there’s no doubt that’s what they were – Deathknights.


Things haven’t changed much for me. At least the basics haven’t. I still hunt. I still exult in the thrill of the chase. But I don’t work for the Guild anymore. Well, I do take jobs from them from time to time, but I don’t go after bail jumpers or stolen cargoes. Now I hunt those who can’t be caught by mortals. Now I hunt those creatures whose power is too great for a human to bring down. Errant demons, rogue gods, rampaging fae, sinister deathknights – those are the targets I’m after now. The Unconquered Sun chose me for a purpose. I still hunt. I’m better equipped now. I’m better trained now. Celestial martial arts are a wonderful thing. And my orichalcum weapons are a perfect fit. But those are both stories for another day.


So. You have any business to throw my way?