• Name: Birthname: Amauros I’strane [Am-or-os Ice-train]
    Moniker: Laqueus
    Age: 27
    Gender: Male
    Race: Human
    Sub-race: None
    Position/class: Killer
    Physical appearance: The Laqueus is a man of thick build. Standing at 5’10 and weighing 200 pounds, his body is covered with muscle, and of slightly taller then average height. His body, however, is a mutilated parody of his former attractiveness, as he had been unusually handsome as a young man. However, due to the obscene rituals and mutilation training he received with the Cult of Morde. His entire upper right chest is a giant burn scar, while the rest of his body is a scrambled checkerboard of line scars from whips and daggers. On his face, he has two prominent scars cleaving his bottom eyelid in two and running down his face like tears (This injury was carefully done as to rejoin his bottom eyelid halves carefully, allowing him continued proper use of his eyes.). This is the only scar on his body with actual significance, as it represents his pain and hatred turned to passion for death. Each member of the cult has a different symbolic scar on their body to show camaraderie, yet outline each’s unique goal.

    However, at the time of his return to his home city of Nell'ombra del Caduto , he has adopted a ensemble of clothing that covers his entire body: Black, faded leather clothes (And a metal chestplate, shin guards, and forarm guards over them), gloves, boots and a tattered, silky black cloak that he ususally keeps wrapped around his whole body unless he is in action, in which case he throws it back. He also never exposes his face, always wearing a tarnished metal mask. It has no featues on it other then two rectangular eye slits (See Dr. Doom's for referance), and twenty one holes in the mouth area to allow for conveniant breathing.
    Personality and personality weaknesses: In his life Amauros has had two different personalities, one previous to the betrayal and extermination of his family, and one after.

    Pre- As a young man, until the age of sixteen, Amauros was a mischevious young boy, but good hearted enough. As the son of a high class family, Amauros never found himself needing much, and therefore was considered rather spoiled, yet he would occasionally show kindness to his servants and cooks, allowing them to have extra time off, or dismissing them for holidays and such. Nevertheless, his actions were always calculated to achieve some end. Simply put, however, those ends were almost never malignant. His father was a powerful influence on his life, teaching him that success was about balancing morality and greed, taking and giving in equal proportion, so that no one ever saw you as any more then a neutral party, and held no hostility towards you. Also, his father was the first head of the family to not derive from the sorcerous side of the family, and Amauros followed in his footsteps, learning swordsmanship at a young age. If ever he was considered overly egotistical it was concerning his skill with a blade, which he privvied to be uncontested.

    Post- After the death of his family, Amauros simply succumbed to depression, his privileged mentality simply giving up at the thought of the effort it would take to re-start his life. However, during his time with the Cult of Morde, their dark yet inspirational teachings withdrew from him an embittered and determined side to himself he never knew he had, while at the same time stifled many of his more sensitive emotions that had developed over his comfortable life. When he left the cult, he had changing into a colder, more sadistic version of his previous self, devoid of recklessness and rich expectation, and with a firm, powerful goal in mind.

    Fears and Weaknesses:
    Aversions:
    -Heat: Under normal circumstances, temperatures higher then approximately ninety degrees irritate his scars and cause them to itch. Think of that itch you refuse to scratch for a few seconds, recall how irritating it can be, how distracting.

    Now cover your entire body with it.

    -Extreme empathy for children: Unless under dire circumstances, The Laqueus refuses to kill children. Oftentimes, he seeks to help them, even in the midst of battle.

    Weaknesses
    -The removal of his mask: Due to intense psychological distress dealt during his time with the Cult of Morde, Amauros feels the need to wear his metal mask at all times, as though it were his truest face, and reverts to a pleading, almost child-like state when it is removed.
    Skills: Sword and Sword, or Sword and Dagger Combat, Poison use (Not to be confused with Poison Crafting), Tactics and strategies, Psychology, Tough skin, Insanity.
    History: Taken from the Journal of Amauros I’strane.
    Age: 7

    Father has told me to write in this journal. I am supposed to write what I want.

    Today I fought with Liam my biggest brother with my sword. He said that I was better then he was when he was a kid. He is the best under dad. One day I will beat him and be the best instead.

    Today mom asked me if I ever feel scared in our house. I told her no and don’t know why she asked that. I like where I live. I live in a big city called Nell'ombra del Caduto I sometimes walk in the streets and buy things from the men in the stores. Yesterday I bought a ring with a cool letter on it. I don’t know what it means, but I like it. It’s really big. When I got home from the streets I pressed the ring into the ground and it left a mark just like the letter. I’m going to keep it forever.


    Taken from the Journal of Amauros I’strane.
    Age: 12

    Today was so exciting!

    Early this morning, Liam and his best friend Andrus woke me up and told me that they had convinced father to let me come with them on a hunting trip! I was so excited! I packed so fast I almost forgot my bow!

    Yet soon we were out, running like mad through the forests, Liam said that we hunting Jaalym. I had no idea what they were, but they sounded fun.

    Finally we found one, it was sort of like a horse I guess. It was also like a carpet, I didn’t even see it, but Andrus held me back as I was about to walk up to one, and Liam just shot it, but it didn’t die. It got up and looked like it inflated, like a balloon, and ran at us! It took all three of us, and I missed twice, but it was my third arrow that brought it down! They told me it was my first kill and that they were proud. I don’t think they noticed me go get the arrows I had missed with.

    Last night, I heard the voice again, the one I wrote about last week. It’s really not as bad as I made it sound, I was just scared. The voice seems to be nice, and he asked me about how my day was. At first I didn’t say anything, but eventually I told it about the hunt, and it said that it had hunted once, then went away. I think it’s coming from the floor under my bed. I pulled up the carpet and saw the bottom of a big circle, but my bed’s too heavy for me to move, so I couldn’t see what it was. It was red. I’ll ask father about it tomorrow.

    Taken from the Journal of Amauros I’strane.
    Age: 15

    Sometimes I ask myself why I even try.

    This evening, attending the Nobleman’s annual ball, I saw someone with my youngest sister, Mellia. He was an older man, and she, only being fourteen, was simply off limits. The scumbag was trying to woo her, and it was working. My sister, love her as I do, is an unsalvageable idiot when it comes to high society and the games men play, and she needed one of her brothers to save her.

    So I stabbed him.

    I kid, I kid. I challenged him to a duel.

    Then I stabbed him.

    Sure, he lived, which I hadn’t accounted for, but I think I got the message across to the swine. And now, the Legatus family knows where they can stick their all-talk polearm style.

    Prats.

    Of course, I was publicly admonished, but father gave me some healthy praise on the trip home. I knew he would be proud. He loves to see people get their just desserts.

    Still, he has been a bit odd recently. Granted, as I said, he always loved poetic justice, but recently he’s been pursuing such goals with more fervor then usual. I even spoke to him about it the other day. He was the one who always taught me the philosophy of the balance of life. He didn’t seem pleased, for a moment, I had the same dark feeling I used to get when I suffered from split personality (Which, for the record, I will never believe. That voice was as real as my hand, which I am currently slapping on the desk to confirm its validity). Perhaps the voice has something to do with it. Is it talking to father? Making him do thing like it did to me?! Impossible.

    My heart was young and untempered, and even then it had a hard time influencing me to do evil acts. My father has a heart of steel.

    I will investigate.


    Taken from the Journal of Amauros I’strane.
    Age: 16

    Dead. They’re all dead.

    What foul wind has swept through my home? What dark god has seen to the fall of my family? I cry to the heavens, screaming for the answers to the question my constricted throat cannot release. Tears steam down my face as I write. What do I do? Who did this? I cannot pursue vengeance, I cannot fight what did this. It would have taken an army to ruin the home of my ancestors.

    I have done all that is in my power to do, I have run.

    I have killed as well, though. A pair of men followed me. So stupid. Why would they wear the emblems of their houses on their clothings? Did they want me to know their affiliations after I killed them?

    It is apparent that Desmond and Morbery were jealous of our superiority to them. The Mage Allisno of the Morbery was extremely difficult to dispatch, but my mind is strong, tempered by Andrus, who was no pushover of a mage himself.

    But with this information, what can I do? Sure I can kill two, but seven? Fifty? One hundred? Even I am not so bold. My life is over. I can still write because I am still in shock. Yet already my hand shakes. I feel the pain creeping into my mind, and with it is a dark voice. I have heard it before. But while I still possess my mind, I will resist it with everything I am.

    [The first few words of the next line are smudged by a tear] dead. All of them.

    Oh Gods. We did nothing to deserve this, my father, my mother, my brothers and sisters, my life…

    Please, for the love of mercy, let the next man kill me. Spare me the agony of living with this pain.


    Taken from the Journal of Laqueus, agent of Morde.
    Age: ??

    The pain is lessening. Every lash they whip at me, every dagger they pierce me with, every drop of my blood they draw makes me stronger. They say Morde is filling my body with strength, but they are common swine not fit to lick the dirt off of my bare foot. Morde is a false god, a bastardization of man’s obsession with death. Morde exists in the back of every man’s mind, they have just given this murderous impulse a name. Silly peons, what is it like to devote your life to an aspect of your own psyche?

    I know better. These fools of the fire country are radical, but their methods are honed by thousands of years of use. They try to ‘fix’ my mind, but only succeed at crafting my body. Soon it will be on the outside a mirror to the torture that rips at my soul. They tell me that in five more years, I will get a choice- to serve Morde forever, or die.

    They temper the sword of their own destruction. I will kill them all to uphold the balance.

    The Gods are nothing, the lies are nothing. The only truth is my fists, my swords, my hatred. I live for nothing but reality now, and Althena and her pups be damned. My fate is my own, my life is my choice, and I choose a life of death. A God cannot stop me, especially a fake one.

    Let us see the might of this Morde, this false God. For what I can see, I can touch, and what I can touch, I can kill…


    Taken from the Journal of Laqueus, agent of Morde.
    Age: ??

    Today is the day. It has been ten years, I have counted.

    Time to answer the question.

    I have very little to write.

    It is a funny thing, now that I muse upon it. In the minds of these men, Morde is a true god. To them, his existence is fact. In a respect they make him reality, just like my sword will make their deaths a reality. These men are the only ones in the world who believe it, and they will all be dead by morning.

    Tonight, I will end a God.

    What makes me laugh is how little I care.


    Taken from the Journal of Laqueus.
    Age: 27

    I’m back.

    This place has changed so much. I never thought a place like Nell'ombra del Caduto could change. I was so young.

    After only a day here, I have cause to smile.

    Neither Markeli Desmond nor Joi Morbery are dead yet. Soon will come the time in which I fix that. Soon they'll find Arques Desmond. I remember him when he was in school with me. He’d grown quite a bit. I killed him. He had always been one of the people I had respected growing up. A man of skill, even if he did have a bit of a gambling problem in his teenage years. I could see he had been training with his sword very much. Indeed, he was powerful for a noble.

    I am not a noble.

    I allowed him to draw his rapier, then broke it with my hand before beating him to death with the handle. It was almost surreal, I have dreamed about the time in which I would avenge my family for years. Now actually doing it, I feel an exhilaration that I cannot describe in words. What I can write, though, is that this is going to be fun.

    I am not the angel of death, I am not the grim reaper. They do what they do because they have to. Their lives are ruled by their inability to defer from their original purpose. They are tools used by the gods to do their dirty work, and are passionless slaves.

    I am a human. I am by far more terrifying.
    Other: Equipment:
    One black cloak, One tarnished steel mask, One metal chestplate, One Kukri, One Scimitar, One Pair of iron knuckles, One set of pre-made poisons (Which induce the following: Paralysis, Blindness, Deafness, Short Term Memory loss, or A Hypnotized Compliance, and antidotes for all), One pair of bladed boots, One Spyglass, Six empty vials, One Signet ring.