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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Renfield" data-source="post: 1326457" data-attributes="member: 13493">An objective revealed.In the world of shadows, crime, intrigue, politics, and all other aspects that heavily involve the underworld in any city there are many legends. Legends of thieves who can bypass any trap or security device ever concieved to protect ones valuables. Men who can escape from even the most confining cell. And all manner of things that can earn such men respect and fear should only a fraction of the tales prove true. Though throughout all these legends one is never spoken of above a hushed tone for fear it might attract the attention of the very entity spoken of. This is the Legend of Death's Scribe.It is said he was born between the union of a priestess and a demonic entity beyond even Talisar's control. In a dark ritual of blood and sacrifice the child was born into this world only to be spirited away. The child was that of Death itself, hand picked to be the scribe of those killed in the world, and to bring those to deaths doorstep who were over due for such appointments. Posessed of superior speed, strength, intelligence, agility and cunning it was said this child could assume whatever form he chose and could become whomever his victems most wanted to see. He took his first life shortly after learning to walk.The boy was trained and tutored in the art of killing by a host of specialised masters, all classes of which he graduated by slaying said masters at their own trade, he was a monster who knew only death. Immortal, dangerous, and strictly mercenary when he's not persuing his own dark purposes. The man is wanted in every country he's slain in, which is roughly every country on the continent, and even then the crimes he's wanted for are only those he has made known to be his doing.What frightened all who found themselves a possible mark was his ability to consume ones soul, their knowledge, their abilities, even their memories and personality. He is also said to be able to take on their forms should he so desire. To be a perfect doppleganger should no one know that the person who's form he took is truly dead. This man has the knowledge and capabilities of many men and women that have fallen to him.Thankfully their are limits to such a power. An ability like that would be impossible to control and maintain ones sanity for long after aquiring the first few souls if indeed it was ones soul he stole. Thust those who raised him made a deal with him. They would lock away the knowledge in his mind saving him from the negative effects of such things in exchange for his services. Hence how he became the dirty little secret of the very countries he was wanted in. For matters of greatest intrigue and assassinations of greatest secrecy it was he who was sought after. Though he had an odd honor system that if offended could easily make those who contracted him his next marks. It is also whispered that this man isn't merely Death's Scribe, but in fact death made flesh. Regardless he is quite easily the most deadly man out there for all attempts to kill him have failed. While it is very likely possible it is very unlikely to occur soon as every attempt by magic or metal has failed.******Alias frowned deeply, this was not good, not good at all. "And we have to find him?" he asked knowing full well that was the case.Jergan's brow furrowed as he coughed in shock "You actually intend to seek him out? For whatever reason?"Delver held up a gaunt gloved hand to silence any further questions or comments "Our reasons are our own suffice to say this appears to be the task at hand for there are others who seek hims as well."Alias growled "Not only do we have to find him but we have to convince him to come along with us. Consider forcing him to come with us is rather unlikely."Joran stifiled what might have been a laugh and turned it into a cough refraining from saying what was written on his face, how what Alias had said was most definitely a rather broad understatement."What is it?" Alias said with a frown.Joran paused and said it was nothing when Alias scowled even more if that was possible. "Not you, him." he said pointing at Jergan who was looking Alias over with an intense and considering look."I think I just realized why you seem very familiar to me." the man said leaning back in his chair. "Spitten image.""Spitten image of what?" Alias asked his patience wearing thin. Jergan stood and without a word exited the room for a short time returning before anyone could consider whether or not they should follow. In his hand was a rolled up piece of parchment. He tossed the yellowed paper to the table and motioned for Alias to unrole it. The man did and his jaw went slack and his eyes widened ever so slightly if only for just a moment. There, in a very similar likeness was Alias, drawn by a skilled artists hand though in imperial dress. Above the uncanny portrait in bold letter of an imperial flow were the words "Wanted, prefferably alive." and below the portrait "1,000 Imperial Crowns." To anyone who knew coins, and most bounty hunters and mercenaries did, Imperial Crowns were as good as any other countries platinum. Worth roughly ten gold coins each.Alias was silent staring at the paper with shock and more than a touch of disbelief. Petunia spoke up reminding everyone that the dwarfette was indeed still in the room "Who'd ye piss off?"Alias stayed silent for a moment until finally speaking in a voice that didn't hold his usual boisturous tone "My Father."</blockquote>

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