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Cassadin Krios

"Let justice be done though the heavens should fall."

0 · 610 views · located in World of Fantasy

a character in “The Rod of Seven Parts”, as played by Methodical

Description

Name:  Cassadin Krios

Race:  Drow

Gender: Male

Physical Description: Image
Cassadin is a fairly tall and slim, but muscular man, with long white hair, with one side tied into an elegant braid. He has a kind looking face, and sharp ears that are pierced with two small rings each. He also has elegant tattoos that glow and pulse a deep, vibrant orange.

Personality: Cassadin is kind, and fun-loving, 

Homeland: Cassadin hails from the great southeastern  city of Talon's reach, one of the largest cities in the world, famous for its impenetrable walls, and it's drinking and gambling.

Class:  Host. A Host is a powerful Mage that has a even more powerful spirit inhabiting their body. This used to be practiced in full by a powerful sect of mages (Appropriately titled "The Hosts"), but the order was wiped out hundreds of years ago by unknown causes, and the practice has been all but forgotten. The process is complex, but it involves summoning a  willing spirit from another realm, (Called "The Home" by the Hosts) and binding them to an individual host. The spirits lend the host their powers, in exchange for the host letting them travel and see the world, in addition to helping them complete their own tasks and agendas om the mortal plane. However, the Host's lifespan is shortened quite a bit, and it is rare to see a human Host live past the age of Fifty. Drows however, tend to have longer lives, so Cassadin will likely live to the age of seventy of eighty, still relatively young for his race. Cassadin is possessed by the spirit of Valor, a just, but unforgiving spirit, who tends to hijack Cassadin's sense of judgement when he wants to deal out some justice.

Skills: 
Hand-to-hand combat
Armed combat (pole-arms, swords)
Magic
Cooking
Digging
Thieving

Weapons:  Aside from carrying a couple small daggers, Cassadin possesses no physical weapons. Instead, he summons a large double-edged spear made of orange energy that he uses to battle his enemies. 

Equipment: Clothing-wise, Cassadin wears a special armor that amplifies Valor's power. Is consists of a black top, arm, braces, boots, and leggings. He also often wears a tattered brown cloak overtop. Cassadin also carries a small bag, containing the essentials, such as bread, cheese, a few books etc.

Magic: (Note: Cassadin doesn't know much of his own magic, but rather, he calls upon the magic of his spirit to cast.)

Valor's Roar: Cassadin emit's a supernatural roar, striking fear in his enemies.
Valor's Call: A battle cry wich invigorates and inspires his allies.
Glory's Call: Works much like Valor's call, but instead allows injured allies to temporarily ignore their injuries and keep fighting.
Fog of War: Cassadin summons a fog of Orange energy that obscures only the vision of his enemies.
Valor's Strike: A blast of orange energy that is fired from the user's palm. In addition to causing damage, it also weakens the targets will to fight.
Valor's tongue: More of a passive ability, but still technically a spell. Cassadin has an easy time talking people in or out of fights, thanks to Valor being able to speak through him.

Biography: 

Early: I'd like to keep this a secret for now, if that's alright. Just know for know that he was born to a Human father, who is still alive, and a Drow mother, who passed away a few years ago, and that he was possessed by Valor at a very early age. Also know that Valor and Cassadin are the same age.

Middle: Cassasdin started getting involved with gangs, and organized crime, and Valor started becoming darker, and more violent. He had to flee the city after Valor controlled him into murdering a crime boss. 

Current: Cassadin is a wanderer, doing odd jobs and mercenary work that Valor sees fit. He also has a reputation as a bit of a treasure hunter, often joining expeditions to find artifacts buried in old mines, or tunnels, or the such.

So begins...

Cassadin Krios's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sonic Character Portrait: Cassadin Krios Character Portrait: Drakon Armand Character Portrait: The Teller of Tales Character Portrait: Lamya of the Death Mountains Character Portrait: Vania Vdovin formally Vaanak
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“T’was horrible, it was! Thay lit’rally came from nowhere! I mean, yeh they’re orks, but yuh kinda expect some sort of warnin’, y’know?” Seegert said as he trembled in the meadhall known as the Staggering Dagger. By sheer fortune alone, this human male of about thirty years of age had managed to survive an orc raid upon the caravan he was traveling with. Seegert had explained in gruesome, grotesque detail the raid itself to the patrons in the hall who quite surprisingly were interested in this tale. Orcs having killed everything that wasn’t one of their own, stripping bodies of every worldly possession they had on them at the time… including clothes. Seegert was offered a flagon of mead by the barmaid as he continued his story.

“Wot ‘appened then?” She asked, brushing her curly strawberry blonde locks from her eyes. Seegert immediately perked up and took a lengthy drink from the flagon.

“I got out by the skin of me teeth, I did! I wasn’t gonna tumble with a few dozen orks all by meself, so I did the next best thing… I played dead!” Some of the crowd gasped and continued to cling to Seegert’s every word as he drank his dead comrades weight in alcohol. "When they was all lookin' through the waggins, I told meself 'Self, you'd better think fast 'fore one of those orks puts a knife in your throat!' and think fast I did. I used a bit of a grumbly voice to throw their attention elsewheres, sayin' that there was a big ol' ruby in one of them carts. They all went runnin' and when they was distracted, I snuck off into the woods for safety!"

Seegert sighed and looked around the tavern, his bragging having got the better of him. Some folks were now looking at him as a coward, others found his tale to be a little lackluster at the end. Despite it all, they gave him either a nod or a raise of their tankards for having been as brave as he could been in the situation. Most of the others surely wouldn't have fared as well as the wiry braggart. Even the barmaid seemed to have lost interest in his tale at that point, leaving the man to wallow in his recent cowardice.

The man slumped his head down onto the table, visions of the previous nights onslaught replaying in his mind like a bad film reel. Over and over, sound and all. Never once had he seen so much crimson. He was about to stand up and retire to his quarters when a young boy, one of the stablehands, rushed to his side.

"What about the treasure, sir? All the treasure in those carts?"

Seegert patted the boy on the head, looking out towards the tavern as he slipped the boy the last of his copper coins. "Prob'ly with them orks in the mountains. I ain't goin' after it, but sure as the day is long, a good batch of men could get it all back. I promise you that, boy." He smiled and rubbed his scruffy face, waving to all the patrons before heading upstairs, leaving his words to linger in the air for a few scant moments.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassadin Krios Character Portrait: Lamya of the Death Mountains
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Cassadin sat solemnly in the wooden chair, with his hands tied behing his back, looking down at the table, refusing to look his captor in the eyes. The Staggering Dagger's back room was currently occupied by the Drow, some bodyguards, and Sinjin the hilt, a notorious dwarven crime boss.

"I'll ask ye one more goddamn time Krios, what the bloody 'ell did ye find down there?!" The red-faced dwarf yelled, saliva spilling into his beard.

"Kill them Cassadin. They deserve it. Valor demanded. Cassadin ignored him.

"I told you Sinjin! There was nothing down there! Just rats and dirt! Now let me go you little bastard, or I'll never work for your half-pint ass again!" The Drow yelled at the dwarf. Sinjin gave Cassadin a hard look, then erupted in laughter.

"Hahahaha! Ye got a bit o' fire in ye! Alright then, get yer skinny little charcoal ass outta here, before I lop it off and hang it on my wall!" One of the dwarve's bodygaurds cut the rope off the Drow's wrists. He instantly jumped up and kicked over the chair, while making his way through the door.

As he stepped into the bar, he observed the crowd, while picking a table. He noticed a few contacts, and a couple of old mates, as well as a few...*ahem* Regulars. He decided to approach the bar, sitting on one of the stools, and being slightly annoyed by the wobble. The barmaid greeted him with a warm smile.

"'Ello Cass!" She said handing him a mug of his usual ale. He had lived in this city for about a year now, and had made quite a few friends, including the local barmaid.

"Got anything for me, Rosey?" he asked the strawberry blonde woman.

"Well...there was somthin'..." She said, trailing off.

"Continue, hon?" Cass insisted.

"Old Seegert's caravan was ambushed, bloody Orcs slaughtered all his mates, and thiev'd him for all he had. The caravan was spos'd to be filled to the neck with treasure. I already told another girl about it, so she's probably going' to get it from them Orcs, but she just left, so if you go quick, ye might catch her." The barmaid gave him a description, and he raced out the door to catch her. Luckily, she hadn't gone too far. He walked up behind the girl, putting his hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Excuse me miss, might I have a word?" he said to the scarlet haired woman.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassadin Krios Character Portrait: Drakon Armand Character Portrait: Lamya of the Death Mountains
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Drakon Armand had been sitting in a shady corner of the Staggering Dagger with a heavily armed escort of four 'men'. They wore armor stained black as coal. Each man had a long sword at their side and a round shield strapped to their arm.

The keen observer would notice the men were still, very still, unmoving, and they had no tankards to speak of. The four just sat there in complete unmoving silence. The only one doing anything was Drakon who was wrapped in his black robes with a tankard in his hand. Drakon had been listening to the cowardly braggart’s tale. He guessed he would’ve done something similar if he were a mere man. But he was a master of the dark arts; he would’ve blasted away at the beasts with dark bolts of energy while his ‘men’ dealt with any stragglers.

Drakon had a small list of grimoires and tomes that he needed to acquire. Usually he would simply burst in and put the men down; but these were some very skilled wizards. If need be he could attempt to take them on, but news would travel too fast, by the time he took out one or two, the others would be ready to put up a real fight; it would be easier to buy the books.

His ears perked up as he heard the man mention the treasure the foul Orcs had run off with. Drakon’s mind began to quickly formulate a plan. It was a caravan, which meant there were probably at least one or two carts laden with luxury items and coin. But a lair of Orcs would never only be a dozen or two strong. There would probably be hundreds in their lair not including other foul beasts that would’ve joined them for the violence and bloodshed.

As he had a rather private army of sorts at his disposal, he could have them put the beasts down. But his forces although it reached well over a hundred strong, the four with him were the only ones for hundreds of miles. The rest of his underlings were in various towns and cities in over a dozen countries on three continents doing his bidding. Drakon didn’t feel like having to gather new underlings. That and Drakon doubted that the locals would want to find an empty graveyard. He would probably gather a few, but best not to be seen walking around with an army of walking corpses; at least not until he had learned more about the areas views on magic, Necromancy in particular.

There was many a patron who looked like they would be good traveling companions. Listening carefully he barely overheard the barmaid mention something about the caravan to a young woman, who almost immediately took flight. Shortly after a Drow came in and sat down. Drakon looked at the man carefully. Drakon recognized the Drow as someone who had been known as a rather infamous mercenary and killer, although his name escaped him. Drakon had made it a bit of hobby of keeping track of anyone that could come after him, knowing who could be the one coming after a price on your head or a rare artifact on your person, could mean the difference between surviving the encounter and being buried with the dead. After hearing about the girl the Drow to took off, presumably to try and catch up with her.

Drakon was never one to miss an opportunity. While not one to particularly enjoy conversations with the living, they would be a great deal of help; the two didn’t exactly look like pushovers. Even if they were to be nothing more than Orc blade fodder they could prove to be useful. Drakon downed the last of his drink, grabbed his staff and he too took flight. His four ‘men’ following in tow, moving like children’s clockwork toys; which was always peculiar to Drakon as in a fight they were quick and agile. Though only those paying particular attention would notice anything off about the four armored figures movements.

Drakon slowed down as he saw the Drow catch up to the woman and begin talking. Drakon would’ve preferred to make himself silent and join in at the right time, but the noise of four 'men' suited in armor moving in sync was not a quiet one.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassadin Krios Character Portrait: Lamya of the Death Mountains
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Lamya had been taking her long sly and quiet steps while the people around stared at her, she ignored their glares as she always had but this time someone was approaching her. She wasn't used to having people follow her so she gripped her knife handle ready to defend herself then she hear the clanging of heavy armor also coming close.

I can't even walk in the streets without being disturbed! Lamya couldn't believe it.

When the person who had been following her touched her shoulder, Lamya took a leap away holding her knife at eye level warning the . . . DROW! not to approach. What did a Drow want with her? She also noticed a man dressed like a dark magician followed by four armored men who seemed to want to speak with her as well but had his attention pulled toward a blue haired child. Lamya took into consideration all of her surroundings but mostly focused on the Drow.

"What do you want?" Asked Lamya as she tried to remember all of the people she threw into jail or to death but she never remembered a job involving a Drow, "Have I met you before? Or have I ever thrown you into prison?"