New member
Sep 24, 2012
Daylius Lethengor was birthed into the sludgy pits of Stavenjor, starting his hard and dirty life with no father and a dying mother. Sadly, destitution had already snatched any hopes of a life worth living out of his grasp. Daylius spent his early childhood begging and stealing his way through the streets; learning early on that, with his mother now dead, he was alone and had to make his own way. Fueled by the death of his only parent, Daylius targeted the people who sinned the most in his mind … the ungrateful rich. As the slums of Stavenjor slowly consumed the lives of those around young Daylius, his will and wit only became stronger, as both his age and pilfered bounty grew. Daylius dared himself with greater challenges each day, sharing both the take and tales of his crimes with the downtrodden and poverty-stricken. Daylius was a regular fixture during the street performances of Stavenjor, not for his love of entertainment and performance, but for the density of distracted and wealthy onlookers. He lifted gold and silver by the handfuls from a seemingly preoccupied crowd, not realizing that his actions were actually being noticed. Not by the rich or the town guards, but by his not-so-oblivious accomplices … the entertainers. They were wise to Daylius, but didn’t report nor punish him. Instead, recognizing his talent, they adopted him, turning his skills from felony to frivolity. They gave him a home, a purpose in life, and most importantly, a family. And it was here that little Daylius found his first love, not with a woman, but a blade. He practiced throwing daggers day in and day out, perfecting his ability to impress the onlookers. And as the entertainer’s caravan started its annual winding journey through the Waking Lands, Daylius discovered how showing the crowds his amazing expertise gave him the deepest satisfaction of all. After many months of travel through the Darewood Forests, the caravan finally arrived at the Taking River, overlooked by its well-armed guardian, the city of Murcale. Here Daylius was noticed again, not solely by the entertained, but by the dark underbelly of the streets. This time Daylius was adopted by yet another family. The Invisible Blades, a group of shady, underestimated, night crawlers, seduced Daylius with their independent ideals and incredible skill with daggers. Daylius fell away from his loving gypsy family and back into the dark alleys he knew so well. Not only did Daylius gain training with the kukri, but a strong father figure as well. An old elf named Malen took Daylius under his wing as a son, but knew he was still too young to join the elite group. It took a year of constant nagging for Malen to give in and let Daylius come along on one frightful night. Daylius was to be a lookout that night as Malen and an equally high ranking member of the Invisible Blades, a human named Dreth, “reminded” a Murcalean citizen of their place in the city. Daylius kept to his post until the sounds of struggle and clashing blades became too great for him ignore. His curiosity was met with a horrid sight. Malen and Dreth were fighting to the death. The two underlings who had accompanied Dreth that night weren’t making matters any easier for Malen either. Seeing Daylius away from his post, however, attracted the point of their daggers. Stirred by the thought of loosing a third parent, Daylius fought the underlings, spilling the blood of both his opponents while loosing none of his own. Still fighting, Malen ordered Daylius to warn the Invisible Blades that Dreth had turned into a traitor. Dreth, however, wasted no time exploiting this distraction, and fell Malen with a single decisive cut. Daylius ran from the courtyard into the streets and quickly cloaked himself in shadows. Dreth entered the street as suddenly as Daylius had disappeared into it, paused for a moment, and then ran down a dark ally, searching for the young elf to no avail. He was already back at the side of his mentor. Malen spoke softly while his wounds spilled their intoxicating fragrance. He told Daylius to find a man named Farel and show him his blood stained kukri. Before Daylius could respond, Malen was gone … Now Daylius had to feverishly evade city guards in the hopes of alerting the Invisible Blades. What he found at the training hall instead was an assassin waiting for him on the roof. If not for his keen elven hearing, Daylius would have been fatally surprised at that moment. As it was, he side-stepped the potential ambusher, clashed daggers with the man, lost blood to an errant attack, and then using the kukri of his mentor, drove it into the guts of his opponent. The guards, hearing this conflict, immediately caused Daylius to flee, who then spent the remaining night hiding in a pile of alleyway garbage. It wasn’t until the next morning, when he returned to the training hall, that Daylius was rescued by his adopted gypsy family, who pulled him off the street where he could be easily identified. Word had spread quickly about the previous evening. Four men had been killed but only one murderer was being sought. A deadly young elf with a description that matched Daylius. The gypsies listened to Daylius tell his version of the story, and then decided to send their young knife-thrower performer north, into the eastern Darewood Forest, where a sedentary relative lived in the village of Feystruck. They smuggled him out of Murcale and sent him in the right direction, on his own again with nothing but his will and wits to guide him. Realizing that he couldn’t avenge Malen at this time, nor join the Invisible Blades until vindicated, Daylius reluctantly traveled to Feystruck, vowing to one-day return and set straight the dark deeds of the subsequent night.