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Elzedred Dantis

"Guided by moonlight's tears, I will eviscerate your light."

0 · 417 views · located in The Hidden Glen

a character in “The Multiverse”, originally authored by The Afterman, as played by Abraxas_Axis

Description

Elzedred stands at five feet, eight inches tall, weighing one hundred fifty two pounds. Age unknown. While not physically imposing with not very much muscle afforded to him, his attire is fearsome in itself: a black hooded cloak, trousers, and boots. He wears a belt that carries various tools of his trade. His skull mask is also a very disturbing piece of his gear: it serves as his calling card.

It is not known what Elzedred looks like behind his mask.

Personality

Humanity is not seen in Elzedred's person. When he speaks, it's with a gruff voice, very blunt and cold. Void of humor that isn't touched by darkness, he seems callous when encountered. Socializing, however, is something is accustomed to, something he learned in order to infiltrate various parties in search of his prey.

Intelligent, cunning, and always carrying a back-up plan, Elzedred is a very dangerous breed of man.

Equipment

Cutlass (adapted for assassination)
Dagger
Revolver
Grappling hook
Bullets
Throwing knives
Crow's feet
Smoke bombs

Flasks of explosive liquid
Lighter

History

Elzedred; Royal assassin for the king of Galtmire. He was trained from youth to be the perfect killer. He has been contracted to slay various people of note, including members of parliament, dukes, princes, queens, and of course, kings.

Growing up, he learned more and more efficient ways to take a life without making himself know to anyone else. He started a revolt between two rival nations simply by poisoning a king, causing an all-out war that left both nations crippled and susceptible to invasion from Galtmire forces.

Of course, when Elzedred stumbled upon a well-kept secret about his own king, he was sentenced to be executed. He escaped Galtmire, fled into exile, and kept the shadows close as his only friend. Now, he lends his services to those who are willing to pay.

So begins...

Elzedred Dantis's Story

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Elzedred Dantis strode in the bar, footfalls heavy, rain coating him from head to toe. This place was strange to him. He saw many people that looked out of place, and some that seemed that they belonged in this world. It was a strange and mystical place, that much he'd gathered. He'd heard things about this bar, but had never taken the time to actually see what went on inside. It seemed now that he could get a grasp of the place. He picked a seat close to the entrance, and sat down, peering around, not noticing anything immensely interesting.

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Elzedred signaled the bartender over to him, ordering a whiskey, handing off a single gold coin as the drink made its way to the table by way of waiter. Elzedred nodded in thanks, lifting his mask just the slightest bit so as to be able to sip his drink. He breathed a heavy sigh of satisfaction, scoping the place out. Maybe someone was hiring around here?

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Elzedred turned his head. Some dolt had fallen out of his seat. He managed to stifle a little chuckle. Normally, slapstick didn't amuse him, but there was just something about this man, possibly the look on his face. Then he noticed the woman across from him. She was glowing. Not in the "she's pretty" way, but actually glowing, with lights.

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Elzedred righted his mask back onto his face. Positively empty of employment opportunities this place was. Or so it seemed. He didn't want to shout like an idiot, asking if anyone needed to have someone eliminated, but he hadn't seen work in quite some time, and was getting pretty desperate. He wanted, no, needed to feel Death work in his hands again. Someone in this place had to have a grudge, or a political trouble, or something. Pay was not a main concern; he just wanted to kill, to feel useful. The killing was being done in the middle of the floor it seemed, so his employ was not necessary at present, which irked him more. His blade grew weary of remaining dry for so long. He was against getting involved in a stupid fight, but the temptation was there, presenting itself.

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Elzedred decided to pass the time with an old game he learned in Galtmire. He drew his dagger from his cloak, placing his left hand down on the table, fingers spread out. Slowly, he stuck the dagger's tip in the spaces between his fingers, increasing the speed at which he stabbed the wood the further into the game he progressed.

He'd never lost a game.

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"Damnation," Elzedred cursed, bringing his game to conclusion. The bar was bereft of anyone offering employment to individuals of his profession. He thought of slipping through the bar and silently slipping his blade into an unlucky individual, but that would violate his own morals. He'd taken enough innocent life, under the guise of correcting the way of the world, during his employment to the Galtmirian king.

He couldn't stand sitting there. His attention turned once again to where the woman who had previously been glowing now sat. He stood, drifting across the floor like a phantom. He sat in the chair he pulled from the adjacent table, not speaking. He only looked at the three that sat there. Finally, he found it within him to say something. "I'm looking for employment. Perchance you three might be able to assist me?" he said calmly.

Two women, one man. Odd.

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"Forgive me. My name is Elzedred Dantis. I seem to be unable to find employment in this place, and was wondering if any of you three might know where I could offer my....services."

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He sighed. "I take it you folk don't deal with....individuals of my caliber," he said cautiously. He didn't know how well anyone would take it if they knew he were an assassin, unless that knowledge was apparent. He cared not if they knew, only that they not summon the authorities. He didn't want to incite a conflict.

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Elzedred grunted, clearing his throat. "I specialize in disposing over marked individuals, for compensation, of course." He awaited the response. "Hopefully, this does not incite ill feelings."

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"I overheard you speaking earlier, regrettably. You said you belonged to a 'company that doesn't exist.' I assumed you were involved in such a line of work as I."

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Elzedred leaned in, intent on the woman's next words.

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"I remain here until I find some form of employment. There is an inn upstairs, is there not?" he said.

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"Then it is there I shall remain, until I find employment."

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"Farewell," he said. He wasn't smiling. His blade still thirsted for blood, and his nerves craved the thrill of taking his prey, ferrying them to the afterlife. His hands balled into fists, clenching the skin, turning it pale. He didn't know if he'd be able to sleep. He was uneasy, restless even, and now his hopes had been risen by this woman telling him of potential contraction.

For some reason, he couldn't quite accept it.

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Elzedred sauntered down the stairs. He'd been resting in the bar's inn for a while now, but not at all comfortable within the place. It was too calm, too inviting. The whispers of treachery creaked within the walls at night, or so it would seem. He always felt a blade would emerge from the darkness, aiming for his life. His life was not forfeit, in any case, and any hidden dangers that loomed within this place would surely be dealt with. He wasn't one to be trifled with.

Still, sitting at the table he'd been frequenting, he ordered a chalice of wine, looking at the patrons that infested the place today. Still unable to find employment, he grew irate. His hands itched with the anticipation, the anxiety. He was a weapon, and needed to be utilized, to wash his hands in blood again, the blood of the wicked and sinful.

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His attention snapped to the front of the bar. A man ushered himself in, cradling a bleeding arm. Maybe, just maybe, he could be of use after all. Elzedred finished his wine and sauntered over to the injured man.

"It would seem you have found yourself in a rather serious predicament, my friend," the assassin spoke, seating himself across from the injured man. "Elzedred Dantis at your service." He extended his hand outward, as an invitation at formality to the injured gentleman.

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Elzedred eyed the wound before looking the man in the face once more. Beneath his mask, he smiled. "Of course," he replied, slipping his dagger from beneath his coat. He tried as delicately as possible to pry the bullet from the man's skin. He knew how painful it was, having the steel driven under the skin, the sick surgery of a killing weapon being used to doctor a wound, prying a projectile from the flesh.

Once the bullet was free from being embedded in the man's skin, Elzedred figured he'd make his point, and quickly. "Those men outside seem to be troubling you. I could.....handle them for you." It was a friendly offer. He'd do this one free of charge. How he detested those of cruel heart so much that he'd drive a blade through it. Wiping his dagger clean, he looked the man in the eye, eager for him to approve the slaying of the men outside. Elzedred needed this. Hopefully, he would get what he wanted.

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Elzedred heard these words, and understood with clarity. "Ah, you're one of those. Right, then I shall be back, momentarily." He stood, striding to the door and practically wrenching it open in satisfaction. Sadistic justice; that's what he practiced. He'd been conditioned to find enjoyment in killing, and it stuck. But no longer could he bear the slaughter of innocents.

Looking at these men, three in total, his heart sang as well as his mind did. Delightedly, he retrieved his cutlass from beneath his cloak. Of course they were going to fight back, however foolishly. The one with the firearm he dealt with quickly; launching a throwing knife into this man's hand, rendering him incapacitated. He'd be the living subject. The one on the left rushed the assassin, and met his doom all the way down to the hilt of the blade. Elzedred shook him off, eyes locked on the man to his right.

He charged as well, and the assassin danced around him, parrying the thug's vain attack. The attacker carried some strange metal club, and attempted to bludgeon the assassin with it. Elzedred cut the man's Achilles tendons, before splitting his skull with his sword. Cleaning the blood, he dragged the injured thug into the bar, dropping him into the seat across from the blood-consumer he had shot.

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"For you," the assassin mused.

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Elzedred couldn't help but watch. It was....fascinating, to behold the blood emptying from the body. After a moment or two of this, he had to turn his head. As wondrous a spectacle as that was, he didn't think he could watch the entirety of it. Once it was over, however, he remembered his knife in the man's hand. He reached in, retrieving his blade. Curiously enough, there was no blood on it. This made the assassin laugh. With the corpse taking up his seat, Elzedred roughly threw the carcass to the ground, edging his way into the booth.

"You say those men give you trouble regularly?" the assassin inquired.

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Considering this a moment, Elzedred wrapped himself around a sudden thought. "What do you mean 'merciless feedings'?"

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"So...t'was murder?" the assassin inquired. He realized that morality was not something he could assume, not given his past. But he feared the service he had just done this man was not a service done for a man with good intentions.

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The assassin grunted. He had a catch in his throat, strange. This man- no longer a man at all- seemed odd. "So this revolt....these rebels attack you because of your.....condition?" He wanted to know certain things first. Maybe this blood-consumer needed protection. Maybe the populace needed protection from him. He could usually tell if evil lay dormant in a man. Unfortunately, this being before him was no man. Hell, he didn't even have a beating heart, just a stone dead one that sat in his chest, useless.

His hands were satiated for now, but opportunity lay in his wake, and he knew very well that the urge to kill would resurface. He looked up again, his mask reflecting his own visage beneath.

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The situation seemed rather grim to the assassin. The story was a give-and-take situation: The blood-consumer needed to live, and the humans wanted to be left in peace, free of fear from being fed on. Elzedred sighed. Oppression; this could all be rooted back to oppression. Oppression against the blood-consumer, or the humans. However, it seemed evident that this being scouted out those who wished to die. He couldn't let the opportunity pass him. He'd offer his services, and decide himself if he was satisfied with this being's intentions. Then again, who was he to question morality? He was a killer, capable of being purchased. If these people were malicious, then he'd have a job to perform.

"Well, this is going to seem bold of me, but it seems you are in need of protection. Protection I can provide.....for compensation, of course."

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This was intriguing to hear. The assassin smiled beneath his mask, curiously. "Believe me when I say m'lord, but should it come to that, I assure you I can, be it needed." Elzedred stood, and arched his back. "Alas, I must retire for the night. I shall reside upstairs, for now. If ever you need me, you shall find me here. I shall see you some other time perhaps." He started to walk toward the stairs, and the turned, realizing he had forgotten one thing.

"I never caught your name, sir," the assassin said plainly.