Atredius

Stats Name: Atredius, but you can call him Atre'. Species: Human Profession: Scout Age: 23 Eye color: Bright violet Hair color: Bloody Crimson (Just past shoulder length) Height: 6'2 Weight: 175-185 lbs DOB: July 25th Weapon: Duel throwing daggers Parentage: Demron and Vihari (father/mother) Realm of Origin: Chaos Server Appearance Atredius appears exactly as he is; charming, playful, and full of life. Built slender but athletic, the sinewy expanse of his body is compromised of lean muscle and inevitable sleekness -- a well defined product of purposeful activity and a (usually) healthy diet. Dressed in whatever he can manage to cover his lanky build, there's not much he can't express with a quick grin across slender features and a sparkle of mischievous violet eyes. The boy is a bit of a femme, but not overly so. He's just typical of his age and wrought with youthful energy. Personality Atredius is a good boy, if not a bit of a shy one. He's a very kind, clever, gentle young man that loves to help and needs to be needed. Though he's only 23 years old, his determination is a stable trait and his dedication to the people he cares for is absolutely unbreakable. Atredius never had many friends, so the ones he earns take top priority -- even above himself. Selfless, but not as naive as you might think, it's hard to believe their is ANY form of intelligence behind those bright violet eyes. Why? Atredius acts like a DITZ 99% of the time he interacts with other people. There are a variety of reasons for this, but most prominently; he's simply a master of the game of facades, and would rather have you believe that he's A-OKAY than worry you with very frequent episodes of self-doubt, loathing and sadness. Atredius only looks like he's all smiles and laughter, but I can assure you there is more beneath the surface than meets the eye. Often insecure, used to being insulted, lacking self-confidence and really just hoping he can somehow make a difference in the world around him... his genuine want to contribute makes him a loyal ally, if not a bit of an over-eager klutz at times. Past Bards used to sing of a place known as Carion. This was a guild; a powerful, established city in whom many looked to for protection and solace in an otherwise unruly world. The lands of Chaos were treacherous and often deadly -- but here was order. Here was peace. Surviving the Age of Strife and possessing a certain personification of unyielding spirit, the walls of Carion stood tall and proud for years upon countless years. War-mongering Barbarians would attempt to destroy it, Greedy lords would attempt to exploit it, but their efforts would remain in vain. Ruled by three reigning mages, all ancient wizards, this trio of councilmen sought only to provide education and safety for the inhabitants of their city. Carion's leadership was strong, its people skilled, and its heart unquestioned. Ironically, the undoing of this great society would come from within. His name was Demron, Warlord of Carion and the half-brother of Mobias, who was the first of the three High Wizards of Carion. As a fallen Confessor that strayed from the faith of the All-Father, his path was shrouded with deceit and jealousy. Demron had always lived in the shadow of his wise half-brother. His remarkable savvy for politics and innate tactical knowledge was, in his opinion, taken for granted and often ignored. Demron firmly believed that he was an invaluable asset to the city of Carion and its people, and demanded that his feats be recognized. Time and time again, Demron insisted that he be placed on the council; that it was his place -- nay, his BIRTHRIGHT to rule beside his half-brother Mobias. Mobias, though kind to his relative, would have none of it. "You are strong, Demron, and your spirit is unbreakable... but I fear your heart is easily swayed by power. A man that lusts for Rule is a man that will abuse his crown. You cannot stand beside me. This is the final time I will say it." Oh, but it was not ONLY power that Demron so greatly wanted. Her name was Vihari. A Bard -- a siren -- and the wife of his now irate half-brother. As this verbal argument bickered on, his blue eyes darted to her chair and her figure. She was always nearby - She was fearless and opinionated and undoubtedly strong. Since his earliest days as a sergeant, he had watched her climb the social ranks with sure and steady grace; fighting to find her voice and grow into her own. Her eyes were a piercing, stunning violet... her hair was like fire - flowing to her thighs in waves and curls. She could handle a sword, speak to an army, and yet passed up his every attempt to woo her in favor of another man. Mobias. That damned wizard. Humiliated again as Mobias dismissed him from his chambers, Demron made a decision, then. Talk would never gain him his darkest desires. If his half-brother would not give him what he wanted, he would take it by force or scheme. On a black, moonless night, Demron met with Linka the Sage; an Enchantress renown for her abilities with pendants and potions. He offered her a handsome sum of gold in exchange for the creation of a single amulet with very intent properties. "This necklace..." He said with a grin. "... Must provoke the blessing of love." She eyed him quietly as he spoke these words, but did not question him. Slender fingers reached out, took his pouch of money, and she nodded thereafter. Six days and six nights would pass. On the seventh morning he returned to her shop and was granted a beautiful jade necklace. It shone brightly in the sunlight, sparkling every tone of emerald imaginable, and Demron laughed aloud with vengeful glee. That very same morning, he would march to the palace of Carion, and there ask an audience with Lady Vihari. Suspiciously, she granted his request. Vihari did not trust Demron... but knew that her husband loved him. Surely Mobias, a proud and honorable leader, would not love a bad man? Minutes later, he presented her with the enchanted necklace. Demron knelt to the ground with a false tremble in his voice, offering the token in humble apology for his lack of discipline. Touched, Vihari gave him pardon and slipped the necklace around her slender throat. Demron watched it drop upon her shoulders like a noose, and smiled as the beautiful woman suddenly swooned in place as Linka's magic overwhelmed her. With a choked cry, she made as if to claw at him with her hands... but then fell into his arms, his kiss, and eventually - his bed. It wasn't long before Mobias found out about their 'affair'. Broken and betrayed by not only his wife, but his half-brother, he challenged Demron to a duel in the city square -- winner take all. Unaware that this was the Confessor's ploy all along and blinded by his woe and his rage, Mobias intended to fight for his honor and his wife... but Demron was a better warrior by far. The guild watched on in stunned horror as blades clashed and magic lit the square aflame. Ultimately, Mobias would die, Vihari would claim Demron as her new husband, and Carion would be left in an uproar of violence, hatred and disorder. The two High Wizards left on the Council were ousted in favor of a singular monarchy. Namely - one ruled by an iron fist. Months passed. The city became a perfect picture of chaos. Talk of rebellion swarmed within the ranks, foreign relations withered, and the military was out of control. As they had always been loyal to his command, they did not hesitate to follow Demron's suddenly blooming dreams of conquest. All men with power want more power, and thus did The Fallen Confessor become a tyrant across the land. Vihari remained a prisoner of the enchanted necklace, and would eventually give birth to a single son. This -- was Atredius of Carion. And oh - Demron hated him with a passion. He'd never intended on having a child. A child could, afterall, grow into a man that would reach for the power of his throne. Not long after Atredius was born, Demron demanded that Vihari drown the boy at her earliest convenience. As subservient as she'd become, and as used to getting his way as Demron was, you can imagine his shock at her refusal. "-!? What!? Do you love me, Vihari-!?" Her answer was automatic. "Yes, my lord." "Then you will do as I say! Get rid of the boy-!" But Vihari, a prisoner of Demron's passion or not, would never hurt her own son. Though the magic of the necklace had enslaved her heart, her spirit was still very much her own. Vowing punishment for what he viewed as a betrayal, the outraged Confessor locked both Vihari and her young boy up in one of the lofty palace rooms to await certain judgment. Atredius would surely be put to death, and the woman was becoming more and more an expendable asset. Though Demron enjoyed her body, he did not enjoy her sudden defiance. There was hell to pay for those who went against his mandate. Unfortunately for him, more and more people were becoming intent on his downfall. For Atredius and Vihari, the morning would bring a red dawn. As Vihari sat crying in her tower room, a two-month-old Atredius peering up at her from her lap, war drums began to sound in the distance that very hour. Tears racing down either cheek, she looked to a horizon painted with moonlight, and saw the dark tide of thousands of soldiers raising their torches into the night. The other great powers of the realm of Chaos had finally rallied to take Carion in a surprise attack. There had been rumors of a rebellion amongst the townsfolk, but surely nothing like this-! In his overconfidence and brash comfort, Demron had ignored the warnings of his advisors and the threats of his many enemies. They vowed to knock him from his pedestal, and he had scoffed in return. It seemed the day of reckoning was truly upon them all. Gihandor, Leader of the Resistance and sovereign of the guild known as Penance, raised his axe to the stars and led the charge on the once great city. Beside him was Linka, the Sage, who had long ago realized her folly and had since provided Demron's enemies with critical information on his internal affairs. In exchange for her help, she made Gihandor promise not to harm Vihari and her young son. "Remember-!" She called to him as the flood of bodies swarmed down slopes of ice and snow, bound for the gates of Carion. "Remember that she is innocent, and destroy the necklace-!" And so the sky filled with screams and the sounds of battle. Devron, unprepared and outnumbered, lead the best of his Regime out of the city. They vanished into the frozen forests thereon, leaving most of the militia to fall before Gihandor's able men. Buildings burned late into the night and the ancient walls crumbled before massive siege weapons... But when the necklace was finally pulled from Vihari's neck and dashed against the ground, the woman fell to her knee's and screamed like a dying thing; a wail so mournful, so utterly broken, that her little boy began to cry and the men shivered in near frightened response. If not for the guards present, Vihari would have strangled a nearby Linka in her wrath. Hours later, when the situation had calmed and the sun was high in a deep blue sky, all was explained. Linka was forgiven, but Demron was not. Vihari turned on her son and stroked his cheek; loving him though he was half the monster she now despised. "... Have you slain my 'husband', Gihandor of Penance?" Gihandor shook his head, informing her that he had escaped with a few of his militia. At this news, Vihari was silent... but then picked up her son in one arm and a sword in another. The room fell into silence as she stood before the men, her hair wild and her eyes fierce; jaw knit with a rage that could not be expressed. Here was the wife of Mobias. The Queen and Lady of the now devastated Carion. Vihari kicked open the doors to the nearest balcony, stepped out onto the flats beyond, and screamed her final vow. "You cannot escape what you have created-! I am DEATH, Demron, and I WILL come for you-!" Atredius, absently playing with a strand of her hair, blinked innocently up at his mother. Carion never recovered from the devastation wrought during these years. Though the tree of life was still intact, the nation was unable to return to its former glory even despite the ousting of the poisonous Demron. Vihari, though a capable leader, had become obsessed with his destruction... and all her will and power went into finding him. Linka, now a noblewoman, often tried to sway the queen from her lust for vengeance. Each time she was given the same response to her pleas. "He destroyed me, he destroyed my city, and I shall destroy him." Vihari would not be deterred. And then came word, one day, of an alliance that had former in the North. Two guilds had joined forces to attain further power, and it was rumored that some of Demron's henchmen existed amongst their inner council. Throughout the years, Vihari knew that Demron, ambitious as he was, would never simply give up on his dreams of conquest. He was waiting and preparing for a time to extract his revenge upon those who had taken him from his throne. Calling for a troop of six scouts and six assassins to investigate this sudden partnership, Vihari sent them off to gather whatever information they could. Atredius, at this time, was now six years old. He was an empathic, shy little boy that was meek, spirited, and worried for his mother. As he grew up, he watched her fall further and further into the grip of a benign madness and near paranoia. All around him stood the guards and the soldiers that served under her rule. Everything he said ended with a 'Sir' or 'Ma'am', and he was not allowed to go out and develop friendships all his own. He hated fighting. He hated war. "You could be hurt." His mother reasoned, pouring over topographic maps. "Enemies exist everywhere, Atre'. Turn your back, and they will kill you and your loved ones." He hated it-! She'd get angry at him for leaving a window open or a door unlocked. She'd carefully listen to his conversations with the guardsmen, and become enraged if he said something that she considered a security risk. Never allowing Atredius out of sight, schooling him herself, he was alone aside the ever-present company of his suspicious mother. All this would change, however, in the winter of the seventh year since Devron's disappearance. Vihari got word of a plot against Penance, but by the time the information reached her it was already to late. Gihandor's people had been slaughtered by the very same guilds that had formed an alliance nearly a year prior. Their true nature finally unveiled, and calling their city by the name of 'Vengence', Vihari knew that the past had finally reared its ugly head. She told her armies to prepare; they were going to war. Calling upon her allies for aide, messengers galloped back and forth across the land with information and judgment. Atredius watched on, frightened, as his mother received a dooming letter the morning of the first battle. // Vihari, my wife. It has been long in coming, but I know this is what you lust for. Our story ends tonight. // Thus would begin one of the most epic wars to ever unfold across the lands of Chaos. Vihari, leader of Carion, led her clan, her people and her allies against the massive force known as Vengeance. An older, but still lethal Demron was prepared to make his final quest for glory and power... and behind him stood men of a similar color and intent. For two weeks straight the Northern continent was wrought in unrelenting chaos, and at the end of the final day of fighting, the victor remained untold. Carion and Vengeance had destroyed one another, their allies lay beaten and broken, and the pinnacle figures at the head of this conflict had vanished into the arctic cold of the great watchful forests. Bloody snow spread miles between cities, a hush settled over the land, and the gallop of a single horse could be heard somewhere far away in the merciless distance. It was Vihari and Demron; Queen and Tyrant. She was chasing him down with a broken sword in hand, the hooves of her stallion swiftly coming upon the now bloodied and battered man. Arrows jutted from between the plates of her armor; embedded in her torso. As she breathed and screamed at him, blood flew from between her lips, and fire-red hair swept violently behind her helm like a tattered banner of war. Mortally wounded, Vihari would not die until Demron breathed no more. She was heedless to the figure of her mortified son, who watched in horror as his parents made to destroy one another. As they moved deeper and deeper into the forest, so too did he follow. Little legs struggled in the cold and deep, freezing snow, trying to catch up. "Mother-! Mother-! You are wounded! Please stop-!" Demron stumbled into a clearing, tripping over an odd stone structure underfoot as Vihari dismounted and stalked towards him. A gloved hand raised as if trying to ward her away, and he pleaded with Vihari to spare his life. Snorting with laughter, she only laughed and spat at him. "Where is your ambition NOW, Demron!? Where is your honor!?" As she raised her shattered sword, Demron lifted a hand to call upon the forces of Magicka. Both man and woman were seconds away from certain death; she to a spell and he to the blade. Neither parent expected their young son to suddenly dash between them, however. The six year old boy sprinted onto the ancient Runegate that lay unnoticed beneath their feet, the pillars having long since crumbled, and skidded across the glyphs to ultimately take either blow. Vihari's eyes grew wide. Demron's mouth dropped. Atredius felt pain, felt death, and then felt nothing. The world turned white, and time passed. Yes - you all guessed it. Something happened out on that Runegate, and Atredius was transported to another realm with slight amnesia and a deal of angst. Found unconscious in the Wilds, he was brought to the innkeeper at Vorrs for treatment and a warm bed to recover in. For whatever the reason, he'd been spared death. Understandably, upon waking, his first trembling questions revolved around his parents -- but the keeper had never heard of them. Atredius asked about Carion too, but the answer was the same. "Heh. Young fella, I do believe you went n' hit yer head to hard. I ain't never heard of no guild called Carion, and I've been round these parts for forty somthin' years, aye?" Confused, lost and lonely, unable to remember much of his previous life, the six-year-old accepted the innkeeper's offer to stay with him provided he work for his keep. Without much else in the way of options, it was only natural that he would agree. Atre' drowned himself in his work, afraid of the world around him, and waited for time to bring him answers. None came. At 12, Atredius was struggling with his limited education. He wanted to learn, but he didn't have the money for lessons in something as simple as reading. Nearly illiterate, lacking the vocabulary of younger children and much less than 'worldly', Atre' felt like a literal idiot, and greatly left behind in the times. He could clean dishes well, make a bed in ten seconds flat, sweep a floor better than his adoptive 'father' and had quite a hand in cooking... but what was that to boast of? Everyone, from travelers to townsfolk, either pitied or poked fun at him. "Oh - that poor thing. You know, I hear he can't even read?" "The boy is about as bright as a shovel - can't blame his parents for givin' him up." Though Atredius did his best to ignore them, the words hurt. He didn't want to remain a servant - he wanted to make a difference, learn about the world around him, and belong to a family. By now, he'd come to believe that his parent's simply hadn't wanted him, and thus abandoned him in the snow. Carion was probably just a stupid story anyway. Learning to smile without a smile, learning to look happy when he was truly sad, Atredius saved his gold and did his part around the Inn, waiting for an opportunity of any sort to come his way. This opportunity presented itself in the form of a man, a master scout, who came to Vorrs on his travels. Atredius was fascinated with him. He was tall and strong and told the most amazing stories by firelight; he wielded a bow with expert precision and was handy with every form of craftwork under the sun. He'd visited all the most distant lands, knew many influential people, and could navigate even the most treacherous of area's with none but his eyes and the stars to guide him. Having fallen in love with romantic tales of gallant quests and triumphant victories, Atre' decided he wanted nothing more than to live this life. "I can help people if I'm a Scout, right!?" "... Well, of course." "And they won't hate me?" A blink. "... I don't see why anyone would hate you, Atredius." Atre' ignored that comment, not wanting to elaborate. "I'm fast, sir, and I like to travel. I think I could use a bow like you, or swords or daggers. I have some money saved -- could you teach me how? Please? I promise I'll do my best!" Something, somewhere in the back of Atre's mind, remembered his mothers words. Enemies existed everywhere. If he turned his back, they would kill he and his loved ones... Erm -- even if he didn't have any of those at the moment. But, if he did his best to help, people would like him... right? Atredius enjoyed the idea of acceptance. The more the Master Scout told him about a Scout's duties, the more Atre' smiled. Wow. A Scout could be a very important person. They could save lives. That part hit him hard, though he didn't know why. Well then. Atredius would go on to become a Scout under the teachings of his new Master; leaving the Inn behind for a life on the trail. He had enough gold to supplement his lessons, and though he would never be as book-smart as most of the people on Scorn, he did have Common Sense and many newfound skills. Years came and went, Atredius grew up, and eventually he was on his own again as time moved along. It was him, and the road, and the tree's. He'd still never had a friend. His Master was just that - a Master. Teacher and student, but nothing more. The first time Atredius would be treated differently than a drifter or business partner happened during a night spent back in Vorrs. A woman known as Sansia, needing his help to cross Ice-Island safely and return to her guild, made him feel like an actual person. She smiled at him, laughed, made jokes, and held a conversation. She complimented his knowledge of the area, pointed out interesting faults in the landscape, and asked him about both the weather and the continent. When Sansia noticed that he had fallen into silence for a few minutes, she asked if he was alright. Atredius could only blink in response, to stunned to answer. An hour later, they reached Clanwalker, and Atre' stared in awe at the great city before him. So this was her home. "... It looks like a really nice place." He commented quietly. Sansia nodded and smiled. "It is." Nodding gently in return, Atredius bowed his head a little and prepared to leave. The guards on the walls obviously didn't know him, and he really didn't want to be targeted as an intruder by getting too close. As the coming night settled upon them, Atredius started back out into the cold forests. You can imagine his surprise when Sansia caught his arm. "You want to come inside?" She asked kindly, examining his young features. "I can make you some cocoa...?" Atre stared, grinned like a moron, and stuttered out a meek 'okay...' Not long after, Clanwalker would become Atredius' new home. In Sansia he had found his first real friend, and she in turn would introduce him to many new and wonderful people. Finally existing in a place where he felt like he could actually belong, Atre' wasn't alone anymore, and became utterly awed by the Leader of the guild itself. Lord Michlo was what a true leader should only hope to embody. He was everything Atredius wanted to be. Atre' wasn't strong, he wasn't smart, and he surely he wasn't worthy of Clanwalker... but Michlo certainly was, and subconsciously - Atredius couldn't help but come to view him as a father figure. Though his parents surely hated him, Michlo didn't, and that made it okay... right? As things stand now, Atre's given up on his past. If answers will present themselves, they will do so at their leisure. He has friends to protect, a home he loves, a leader he basically idolizes, and a lot of growing up to do. Oiy. If nothing else, he gets an 'A' for effort, you know? .... And that be Atredius! :rollin

Written by: Raps on: 11/20/03