Kalmar

Streetlight Dragonflies

The rest of you should get into heated arguments over nothing as well. It's fun, and literally builds character :D

@Zoro

https://i.imgur.com/K1Iixza.mp4

...like this?

Streetlight Dragonflies

Confrontation Between Jeremy and Joao

Streetlight Dragonflies

Well, I screwed up and put an OOC post in the wrong tab. I'm going to ahead and turn it into an actual post.

Streetlight Dragonflies

Gary Riley

Gary looked over to see that the dispute had not yet been resolved. He was never the sort to become enthralled or interested in drama, but given how pretentious and irritating the glasses man appeared to be, he couldn't help but be somewhat amused by it. Another newcomer had joined in as well. Huh.

Given the circumstances, he supposed it was only natural that tempers were high. It was also only natural that the locals would take it out on the outsiders. Though in this case, the local was justified.

Gary looked away from the drama for only a few moments to order his food - an egg sandwich and a glass of orange juice, before turning back to the display by the noticeboard. It wasn't like there was anything else to do for the moment.

Tear the World Down

Beric Vendal

The Discovery

It had been a full week since he departed from his old bandit clan. One week spent alone, without anyone to watch his back, or to watch over the campsite at night. No conversation to pass the time, no chores or work to be divvied up. The only company was the light of the campfire itself.

And Beric was just fine with it.

Though he had managed to earn Derrick's trust, and perhaps even friendship, the rest of their disreputable little band had always been somewhat wary towards him. They respected him, and even feared him, but they never liked him. Tension was to be expected in a band of lawless brigands, but for Beric it had always been slightly worse than the norm. Perhaps it had to do something with the predatory look in his eye, or the way he would often use threatens and intimidation to get his way. Yet despite their dislike for him, they had still respected him, or even feared him, and would have accepted his leadership had he stepped up.

He hadn't stepped up. The strongest members had been killed in the latest raid, Derrick among them. The rest were either weak or witless. They were unlikely to survive without his leadership, and actually assuming a leadership role would bring him nothing aside from a sense of pride and a somewhat larger share of the loot. Beric decided it wasn't worth the effort of keeping five idiots alive, not when he had his sights set on larger goals.

I can help you with that. A rich, amiable male voice spoke up.

Beric leapt to his feet, grabbing his bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. He notched it and prepared to draw the string back as he scanned the darkness for a target. The voice sounded like it had come from inside his head, but that couldn't be right...

In your bag. The voice insisted in a calm, helpful tone.

Beric was not going to fall for that. He continued studying his surroundings, then suddenly drew back the string and loosed. The arrow vanished into the bushes, and a rabbit dashed away.

You caught me, I was a rabbit the entire time. The voice muttered sarcastically, before the tone turned somewhat impatient. In case you haven't noticed, my voice is in your head. I am not here in this forest with you. Now, if you want to find the source of my evidently irritating words, look in your bag.

Hesitantly, Beric crouched down, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he opened up his bags. For some reason, his gaze was immediately drawn to the mask.

A few days before that final tragic job, Beric and the band had robbed a theater troupe. Among the items discovered were several masks. Derrick had ordered each bandit to take one, believing that they would one day be good for intimidation or disguise purposes. They never quite had a chance to prove that theory.

That would be me. Part of me, I suppose. Or part of you. Perhaps both. Really depends on how you look at it. Is the glass half full or half-

"Get to the point, or you're kindling." Beric snapped in a deep, slightly gruff voice, laced with frustration at the mask's stalling.

The voice inside his head sighed. Very well. My name is Cass. I'm the spirit of a powerful magic-user, who was defeated a long time ago, and can now only communicate through this mask. You seem like a kindred spirit, and I have nothing better to do, so I figured I might as well help you on your quest for power. Speaking of power, you also now have access to some of mine.

Beric narrowed his eyes. He was a skeptical man, and he still had his doubts. But he had to admit, he was somewhat intrigued by the voice's offer, even if it seemed to good to be true. There was definitely more to the story, but first he wanted to see what this mask could do for him before he asked any further questions. There was also the possibility that he had gone mad, but if he was mad... well, he wasn't sure ignoring the voice would make him any less insane. "Show me."

Put on the mask.

---

Silverwick - Several days later

Stop.

Beric came to a stop. The ruins of Silverwick could be seen in the distance. He couldn't help but feel annoyed. "There's nobody nearby. I'd have noticed some trace of them already." He whispered.

Yes, yes, you're very observant. The voice spoke in a condescending tone that Beric had come to loathe. Though that's not what I stopped you for. Tell me, what do you know of Silverwick?

Beric sighed. So often did the mask insist on testing his knowledge first before simply telling him what he needed to do. He almost wished he had chucked the damned thing into his campfire, but the magic it had promised was real, and it was effective.

Beric had firsthand experience with that, after conjuring the illusion of a wounded girl in the middle of the road, causing a suitable distraction for some travelers who he then proceeded to ambush. There had been another instance, where another ground of bandits hadn't appreciated him waylaying people within their 'territory', and weren't looking for new recruits. They tried to get the drop on him, but he swapped places with one. The others immediately ran in terror, evidently terrified by magic. The final one remained where he was, still processing what happened, so it had been simple enough to put an arrow through his back. Then there was the mask itself, which Beric wore even now, though it was invisible to avoid obstructing his vision.

"Silverwick was destroyed by the Shadow Legion. Some people you know are gathering for a plan, which you still haven't told me." Beric growled. He understood why they had chosen to hide out in Silverwick. Ruins were rarely visited, and despite being... well, ruins... they usually had some intact structures that one could seek shelter in. As a bandit, he had sheltered in an old farmhouse or an abandoned watchtower from time to time. What irritated him was the mask's refusal to provide the full details.

All true. Though, as you suspected, there is more to the story. Tell me, what do you know of the Shadow-

"Just get to the point! I'd like to be there within the next hour!" Beric snapped in an exasperated whisper.

Cass chuckled in amusement. You know you don't have to respond to me out loud, you know? Simply thinking will suffice. Now, if you must know, I am Cassius the Cunning. I am a member of the Shadow Legion. The time has come for us to rise again and cast down the old order. Since we have no bodies of our own, we are delegating this task to whichever young upstarts catch our eye. You're about to meet those young upstarts so that you may develop your abilities and work on a plan. Is that a suitable explanation?

Beric scoffed in disbelief. The voice was mocking him once again. Pigshit. Now tell me the truth.

Centuries of planning and patience are not be dismissed as 'pigshit'. That is the truth. Though if you want me to fabricate a story, I can. My real name is actually-

Enough. I'll go to your damned meeting. That was enough to appease the voice, as Beric considered the implications of what 'Cassius' had just said. At its peak, the Shadow Legion had been great and powerful, poised to conquer the entire world. If Beric could even acquire a fraction of that power...

Of course, there was also another issue. The Shadow Legion was, by all accounts, not to be trusted. Especially the one he was supposedly speaking to. That was assuming the voice was even a Legionnaire at all... though if he wasn't a Legionnaire, then what was he? That was a question which dwelled in Beric's mind for some time, though at least he didn't have to listen to that voice for the time being.

Keeping his hood up, Beric continued walking, eventually entering the ruins of the city itself. You are not far. The Champions are nearby. And indeed, Beric could see the smoke of a campfire. He approached with caution, maintaining a low profile, and when the camp itself finally came into view, he spot a number of figures already gathered around it. Go on, introduce yourself. This an important moment in history. Say something memorable.

Beric considered his options. He could send one of the illusions in, but the ruse would inevitably be discovered, and they would think him weak or cowardly. He could sneak in and introduce himself there, but they might mistake his intentions. No, a direct approach was probably best. He began walking towards the camp, allowing the mask to reappear on his hooded face.

"Cassius sends his regards." Beric announced, stepping into the light of the campfire.

Tear the World Down

Character Sheet: Beric Vendal

Beric Vendal

Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Human

Appearance:
Beric stands at an even six feet in height, with somewhat tanned skin due to his time time spent outdoors. He has medium length brown hair, and a short beard. His eyes are a dark piercing blue, with a scar running from under his left eye to the bottom of his cheek, partly obscured by the aforementioned beard.

Moving down to the rest of his body, the life of a hunter and bandit has made him considerably well-built, and he is more agile and strong than most. There are a few scars here and there from various incidents, but nothing that immediately stands out.

As for his armor, Gerald wears a quilted gambeson, over which he wears a vest of boiled leather, with some steel shoulder plating a pair of steel gauntlets. For legwear he has a set of padded leather pants, with steel greaves and some leather boots. Lastly, he also wears a green hooded cloak that would blend in well with local foliage, and has a few splashes of mud for good measure.

Biography: Beric was born in a decently-sized village. His father was a fletcher, fashioning bows and arrows the local lord and his guards, but in his spare time he was also a poacher, sneaking off to the woods with a bow he had made himself and quietly bringing back meat to feed the family. It wasn't long until Beric figured out where all this extra food was coming from, but he knew enough to keep quiet.

At the age of ten, Beric's father began teaching him how to shoot a bow, and he soon turned out to be a natural. At the age of fourteen, his father began taking him out of hunting trips, showing him how to track and forage. His first kill was a deer, as his father watched proudly on. Beric felt a strange sense of empowerment, watching the animal fall. His father began to take him on more and more hunting trips, and eventually trusted him enough to split up and leave him to his own devices. They covered more ground, brought in more food, and the family rarely went hungry.

Eventually, they began to take Beric's younger brother Edgar on the hunting trips as well. Edgar hated hunting, and was could not bring himself to shoot a single rabbit or deer, much to their father's annoyance. So Edgar was tasked with foraging for berries and roots, while Edgar and his father focused on gathering meat and skins. They continued on like this for several more productive trips, and then on one day it all went wrong.

Beric had been tracking a wolf when he heard shouting. Naturally he felt compelled to follow it, and came upon three guardsmen dragging his father's unconscious form back to the village. Rather than risk open confrontation, Beric immediately went searching for his brother, which took him about half an hour, and they made their way back to the village, dropping their bows and supplies at the usual hiding spot.

The local lord was swift when it came to enforcing the law. When they arrived at the village square, his father was already standing at the gallows, and a small crowd had assembled. Charged with poaching, he was sentenced to be hanged. Beric and his brother could only watch with horror as the noose was tied around his neck, and the lever was pulled. His neck did not break. So horrified at the sight of his father choking to death, Beric did not even notice one of the guardsmen pointing at him until they had already drawn their weapons and began to advance towards him.

Beric took the most sensible course of action, which was to grab his brother and run. Just before they slipped into the forest, an arrow pierced Edgar's ankle, forcing Beric to carry him on his back. Though the added weight of his brother slowed him down, Beric knew the woods better than the guards, and was able to slip away, though he knew could not return to the village.

That night, he pulled the arrow out of his brother's leg, dumped water into the wound, and binded it up best he could. Over the next few days they continued walking, his brother limping along. They would make camp, Edgar would start a fire, and Beric would hunt for the evening meal. But eventually, Edgar began to grow sick, and Beric realized the wound had become infected. Lacking the resources to treat it, all they could do was press on and hope they found a town with an adequate healer.

In the meantime, Beric couldn't help but think back to the moment when his father had been captured. How he had just stood by and watched as his father was dragged away. If he had only thought to use his bow... he could have taken one out right away, shot another while they will still processing what was happening, and killed the final one as he closed the distance. And why not? He was a crack shot with a bow, but he had been afraid to kill...

And why was he afraid to kill, he wondered? How many animals had he slain? How many rabbits, how many deer, how many foxes? Were humans really that different?

That was a question his mind would linger on for quite some time.

That night, Edgar looked at him and began to cry. Beric figured the boy thought he was dying, so he told him he would live. But instead, Edgar shook his head, and then tearfully confessed how he had told one of his friends about the poaching... his friend, who was the son of the one of the village guards. Beric backhanded his brother across the face, and for a long time sat in silence, before finally going to sleep.

The next morning, Edgar would not wake. His fever burned hotter than ever before, and his wound had turned a ghastly colour. Beric tried for an hour, but nothing would rouse him from his slumber. Then, an old memory came to him. He had once came across two deer. He shot one of them and the leg, and they both fled. Tracking them was easily enough - he just had to follow the blood. He found the wounded deer lying in a clearing, lacking the strength to stand. The other deer was long gone, having abandoned his friend to save his own skin.

Beric realized this was the same situation, and the surviving deer had been right, because in the end neither he nor his father had managed to track it down. If the other deer had stayed with its friend, it would have been killed as well, and the only difference would have been him being able to bring back twice as much meat

Edgar was weak, and helpless. Beric was strong, and still had a chance. So he rose to his feet, packed up camp, and continued walking, leaving his brother behind.

But as the days went on, Beric found that his own luck had taken a turn for the worse. The few trails he could find went cold. And when he did find an animal, something spooked it before he could fire his shot. His luck in foraging had seemed to run out as well, and he had to sustain himself on the few roots and berries he came across. At first he thought he had been cursed by the gods for leaving his brother behind.

Then, one day, as he was walking along the road, he noticed a caravan - what looked to be a merchant transporting supplies, who had only a single guard. Desperate for fresh food, Beric took a concealed position. As the caravan passed, he fired an arrow into the horse that was pulling it. The guard drew his sword and leapt from his seat, only for an arrow to pierce his throat. The merchant took cover behind the caravan itself, but Beric merely stepped out from cover and knocked the man out with the butt of his hatchet.

Beric then proceeded to help himself to the caravan's supplies, which mainly consisted of fresh cheese and expensive wine. After eating an entire wheel, he stepped out with a bottle in hand, and immediately heard the sound of clapping.

Half a dozen figures emerged from the bushes, clad in leather and furs, wielding bows, hatchets, and swords. They were bandits, and Beric had just let his guard down.

But they did not wish to kill him, or rob him.

Their leader, a man by the name of Derrick, had been impressed by Beric's pinpoint accuracy with a bow, and deciding that they were in need of another pair of hands, invited him to join their group. Beric reluctantly accepted, figuring that they would just kill him if he refused. And then the leader told him that there was one condition: he had to finish off the merchant who still lay unconscious on the ground.

To kill an armed man for some food was one thing. To kill an unarmed man who was no longer a threat after you've already had your food? That was another. But at the same time, Beric understood that if the merchant wandered back into town and gave his description to guard, he would become a wanted criminal again.

So Beric drew his dagger, and slid it across the merchant's throat. That night, Beric and the bandits feasted on wine and cheese.

Beric would remain part of the bandit group for a number of years. Though he had initially impressed them with his skill at archery, they soon came to admire his cunning as well. Previously, the bandits would simply fire at travelers from the cover of the forest. But Beric gave them new ideas, such as sending out a few of their own as a distraction, setting up traps, or placing fallen trees in the middle of the road to serve as road blocks. He soon became Derrick's de facto second-in-command, and their ranks gradually doubled as time went on.

The fact that they were killing and robbing innocents had initially weighed on his conscience somewhat, but he soon learned to shake those doubts off. They lived in a world where only the strong truly thrived, and the weak were expendable. And that was what these people were: weak. They could not defend their own lives or goods, and so both would be taken from them. He slowly came to view it as just another form of hunting, and soon felt that same sense of pride and satisfaction he received from killing any other animal.

That said, he eventually became dissatisfied with their way of life. True, it kept his belly and pockets full, but sleeping in the woods next to a dozen unwashed men was not very appealing. At least back in his village he always had a bed to return to and a stream he could bathe in. Then there were the noble lords and ladies, who demanded taxation and tribute from their subjects, but were allowed to sleep safe and secure in their castles and manors. He wanted that. He knew he would not get it, but he wanted it nonetheless, and he would not find it here.

After a raid gone wrong, which resulted in the deaths of half the group, Derrick among them, Beric decided to strike out on his own, leaving his group behind in search of more profitable endeavors.

Skills:

Master Archer: Beric rarely misses a shot, and can draw and notch another arrow in the blink an eye. He is an excellent judge of distance, and although he favors longbows he is a good judge of the range and accuracy of other bows.

The Power of Observation: Due to his years of tracking both humans and animals, Beric is highly observant. He is a skilled tracker, has excellent hearing, and has a fantastic eye for detail.

Agile: Beric is surprisingly quick and athletic. He can climb trees, roll across uneven ground, dodge enemy attacks, and run quite fast for some distance. He is highly gifted at stealth, and good at remaining both unseen and unheard.

Weapons:
-Yew Longbow, with a quiver of two dozen arrows.
-Steel hatchet.
-Steel hunting knife.

Legionnaire Sheet: Cassius the Cunning

Cassius the Cunning

Gender: Male

Totem:
Cassius's totem is black comedy mask, one that would be used in theater. When worn, it shapes itself to fit Beric's face and turns invisible, even to Beric himself. It becomes visible again when Beric takes it off, or when he wants others to see it.


Personality:
Cassius was perhaps one of the more reasonable members of the Shadow Legion. Unlike some of his brethren, he was not prone to fits of rage, vengeance, or cruelty. In conversation, he comes across as highly intelligent and charismatic, with a strong sense of humour. That said, he also did not possess a shred of honour, and excelled at deceiving and manipulating others to serve his own ends.

But ultimately, what defines him is his ambition, and his desire to shape the world around him. He tended to approve of those with lofty goals, who seek to obtain a higher position or find their own way in life, but he would not hesitate to step on those beneath him if they stood in the way of his own goals. And he has little respect for people who seek power for power's sake.

History:
In life, Cassius was a bard and actor who accompanied a theater troupe. This troupe became so famed and renowned that they soon found themselves performing for Kings and high lords. While he enjoyed the wealth and prestige that came with entertaining such lofty company, he couldn't help but notice that so many of the people he entertained possessed tremendous wealth and influence, yet refused to do anything with it beyond throw lavish feasts and entertain guests. It was frustrating: so much power and potential at their disposal, yet it was going to waste.

Society was stagnating, and in Cassius's eyes, the Shadow Legion presented a solution. Either they would cast down the old regime to take power for themselves, and shape the world in their own image... or the lords, mages, and kings of the land would finally unite to drive them back, so that they would have finally made use of the power they so dearly hoarded but refused to use.

Cassius's charisma and talent for deception allowed the Legion to deceive and manipulate others, and persuade people to follow them. In addition to becoming a powerful magic wielder in his own right, his time at the noble courts throughout the land had allowed him to form valuable connections and uncover various secrets which aided the Legion in their conquests. Though some would say the Legion failed in their goal, Cassius's own personal goal had succeeded: they had upended the status quo.

Now, he is ready to upend it again.

Relationship
Cassius views Beric as a blunt instrument. He respects the man's ambition, and recognizes that there is a cunning mastermind in there somewhere, but it will take time and guidance in order to see those qualities come to fruition. He just needs a bit of direction...

Cassius was also quite fond of his fellow Legionnaires, and save for the occasional quip he was openly friendly to even the ones who were most hostile towards him.

Skills:
Position Swap: Cassius has given Beric the ability to perform a short-range teleport, which swaps his position with someone else. There are limitations, of course, such as the fact that both people must be able to fit within the space they are being teleported to, and the fact that he cannot use it on creatures which are significantly larger than he is.

Illusions: Beric now has the ability to conjure multiple magical images of either himself or other people, and make them speak the exact same voice of the person they are meant to impersonate (though only one illusion can speak at any given time, unless he has them all say the exact same thing). Beric may also project one of these illusions over his own form, disguising himself as someone else. The only way to determine it is an illusion is through physical contact, in which case the hand, weapon, item will pass straight through them.

Streetlight Dragonflies

Gary Riley

Gary soon found himself glaring at the over-dressed google-glass-wearing desperately-in-need-of-haircut fop who had approached him. Everything from his state of overdress to his ridiculous Google Glasses. How did he even get his hands on one those, anyways? He thought they had never been released.

Then there was the way he carelessly ripped some of the posters off the corkboard. Yes, the corkboard was a bit crowded, but that didn't mean he had the right to just tear things off of it. Such a gesture indicate extreme arrogance, or a disregard for the consequences of his actions. And of course, how he approached him to ask if he was in line... when that clearly wasn't the case. Overall, his first impressions of this stranger were quite negative. Though perhaps he was being a bit harsh because he hadn't had breakfast yet.

Naturally, one of the staff appeared to confront the man, saving Gary from a response. He was about to go order some food and forget the issue, when he heard the click of another camera. Gary turned his head towards the sound and couldn't help but smirk somewhat. Perhaps the camera-wielding stranger had simply saw other people taking photos and decided it would be fun if he joined in. Perhaps he simply wanted to get photographic evidence that somebody was actually foolish enough to use Google Glasses, because no one would believe him if he told this story later.

Either way, at this rate, Gary almost wouldn't be surprised if the entire diner leapt from their seats and started taking photos, as ridiculous as that sounded.

Gary turned to the staff member, who had taken the time to ask him what he wanted. Gary shook his head. "I'll need to look at a menu first, but thank you." He said in a voice that was neither warm nor cold. Without further ado, he turned and found a seat at the front counter. The seat he chose was actually somewhat the camera-wielding man, though that decision had not been deliberate. Saying nothing, he grabbed a menu and began to flip through it.

Streetlight Dragonflies

Gary Riley

Gary stepped into the diner, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Quite busy for such an old-looking place, but that was to be expected he supposed. Small towns didn't generally have a lot of options when it came to restaurants. Truthfully, he enjoyed the atmosphere of places like this, though he wished there were fewer people. He had always preferred to eat alone and in silence - he didn't understand why so many people treated it as a social activity. Still, at least he might be able to hear out some gossip, even if it was rarely reliable.

He had arrived in town last night, and booked a cheap motel room. It was lucky that one was available, considering how many other journalists, reporters, and vloggers were visiting the town. He realized he would have to be quicker than usual in gathering the facts - his boss would be pissed if too many people came out with an article before he did.

Back to his current situation. The first thing in the room which caught his eye was the noticeboard decorated with "MISSING" posters, and he found himself temporarily forgetting about breakfast as he walked over to examine it. He did a quick scan of the list. One or two of the names had recognized - he had been conversing with random locals ever since his arrival, and some of them had relatives or friends who went missing. He quickly took out his phone and snapped a picture - it was likely the list would only grow, but it might help to know who exactly had gone missing thus far.

There were a few recent advertisements, and Gary turned his attention towards them. Most of them were of little value, though if there weren't more productive uses of his time, he might as well attend the UFO sighting party just so he could document it. Overall, the only thing that truly interested him was the Town Hall meeting. It would be an opportunity to hear out the official response, and maybe even meet some of the more active citizens. Social interaction was vital part of his job, despite his mild disdain for it.

He would stand by the noticeboard for a few more moments, before finally turning to go search for a seat... unless, of course, someone (or something) interrupted him...

Tear the World Down

.

Tear the World Down

Character Sheet: Beric Vendal

Beric Vendal

Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Human

Appearance:
Beric stands at an even six feet in height, with somewhat tanned skin due to his time time spent outdoors. He has medium length brown hair, and a short beard. His eyes are a dark piercing blue, with a scar running from under his left eye to the bottom of his cheek, partly obscured by the aforementioned beard.

Moving down to the rest of his body, the life of a hunter and bandit has made him considerably well-built, and he is more agile and strong than most. There are a few scars here and there from various incidents, but nothing that immediately stands out.

As for his armor, Gerald wears a quilted gambeson, over which he wears a vest of boiled leather, with some steel shoulder plating a pair of steel gauntlets. For legwear he has a set of padded leather pants, with steel greaves and some leather boots. Lastly, he also wears a green hooded cloak that would blend in well with local foliage, and has a few splashes of mud for good measure.

Biography: Beric was born in a decently-sized village. His father was a fletcher, fashioning bows and arrows the local lord and his guards, but in his spare time he was also a poacher, sneaking off to the woods with a bow he had made himself and quietly bringing back meat to feed the family. It wasn't long until Beric figured out where all this extra food was coming from, but he knew enough to keep quiet.

At the age of ten, Beric's father began teaching him how to shoot a bow, and he soon turned out to be a natural. At the age of fourteen, his father began taking him out of hunting trips, showing him how to track and forage. His first kill was a deer, as his father watched proudly on. Beric felt a strange sense of empowerment, watching the animal fall. His father began to take him on more and more hunting trips, and eventually trusted him enough to split up and leave him to his own devices. They covered more ground, brought in more food, and the family rarely went hungry.

Eventually, they began to take Beric's younger brother Edgar on the hunting trips as well. Edgar hated hunting, and was could not bring himself to shoot a single rabbit or deer, much to their father's annoyance. So Edgar was tasked with foraging for berries and roots, while Edgar and his father focused on gathering meat and skins. They continued on like this for several more productive trips, and then on one day it all went wrong.

Beric had been tracking a wolf when he heard shouting. Naturally he felt compelled to follow it, and came upon three guardsmen dragging his father's unconscious form back to the village. Rather than risk open confrontation, Beric immediately went searching for his brother, which took him about half an hour, and they made their way back to the village, dropping their bows and supplies at the usual hiding spot.

The local lord was swift when it came to enforcing the law. When they arrived at the village square, his father was already standing at the gallows, and a small crowd had assembled. Charged with poaching, he was sentenced to be hanged. Beric and his brother could only watch with horror as the noose was tied around his neck, and the lever was pulled. His neck did not break. So horrified at the sight of his father choking to death, Beric did not even notice one of the guardsmen pointing at him until they had already drawn their weapons and began to advance towards him.

Beric took the most sensible course of action, which was to grab his brother and run. Just before they slipped into the forest, an arrow pierced Edgar's ankle, forcing Beric to carry him on his back. Though the added weight of his brother slowed him down, Beric knew the woods better than the guards, and was able to slip away, though he knew could not return to the village.

That night, he pulled the arrow out of his brother's leg, dumped water into the wound, and binded it up best he could. Over the next few days they continued walking, his brother limping along. They would make camp, Edgar would start a fire, and Beric would hunt for the evening meal. But eventually, Edgar began to grow sick, and Beric realized the wound had become infected. Lacking the resources to treat it, all they could do was press on and hope they found a town with an adequate healer.

In the meantime, Beric couldn't help but think back to the moment when his father had been captured. How he had just stood by and watched as his father was dragged away. If he had only thought to use his bow... he could have taken one out right away, shot another while they will still processing what was happening, and killed the final one as he closed the distance. And why not? He was a crack shot with a bow, but he had been afraid to kill...

And why was he afraid to kill, he wondered? How many animals had he slain? How many rabbits, how many deer, how many foxes? Were humans really that different?

That was a question his mind would linger on for quite some time.

That night, Edgar looked at him and began to cry. Beric figured the boy thought he was dying, so he told him he would live. But instead, Edgar shook his head, and then tearfully confessed how he had told one of his friends about the poaching... his friend, who was the son of the one of the village guards. Beric backhanded his brother across the face, and for a long time sat in silence, before finally going to sleep.

The next morning, Edgar would not wake. His fever burned hotter than ever before, and his wound had turned a ghastly colour. Beric tried for an hour, but nothing would rouse him from his slumber. Then, an old memory came to him. He had once came across two deer. He shot one of them and the leg, and they both fled. Tracking them was easily enough - he just had to follow the blood. He found the wounded deer lying in a clearing, lacking the strength to stand. The other deer was long gone, having abandoned his friend to save his own skin.

Beric realized this was the same situation, and the surviving deer had been right, because in the end neither he nor his father had managed to track it down. If the other deer had stayed with its friend, it would have been killed as well, and the only difference would have been him being able to bring back twice as much meat

Edgar was weak, and helpless. Beric was strong, and still had a chance. So he rose to his feet, packed up camp, and continued walking, leaving his brother behind.

But as the days went on, Beric found that his own luck had taken a turn for the worse. The few trails he could find went cold. And when he did find an animal, something spooked it before he could fire his shot. His luck in foraging had seemed to run out as well, and he had to sustain himself on the few roots and berries he came across. At first he thought he had been cursed by the gods for leaving his brother behind.

Then, one day, as he was walking along the road, he noticed a caravan - what looked to be a merchant transporting supplies, who had only a single guard. Desperate for fresh food, Beric took a concealed position. As the caravan passed, he fired an arrow into the horse that was pulling it. The guard drew his sword and leapt from his seat, only for an arrow to pierce his throat. The merchant took cover behind the caravan itself, but Beric merely stepped out from cover and knocked the man out with the butt of his hatchet.

Beric then proceeded to help himself to the caravan's supplies, which mainly consisted of fresh cheese and expensive wine. After eating an entire wheel, he stepped out with a bottle in hand, and immediately heard the sound of clapping.

Half a dozen figures emerged from the bushes, clad in leather and furs, wielding bows, hatchets, and swords. They were bandits, and Beric had just let his guard down.

But they did not wish to kill him, or rob him.

Their leader, a man by the name of Derrick, had been impressed by Beric's pinpoint accuracy with a bow, and deciding that they were in need of another pair of hands, invited him to join their group. Beric reluctantly accepted, figuring that they would just kill him if he refused. And then the leader told him that there was one condition: he had to finish off the merchant who still lay unconscious on the ground.

To kill an armed man for some food was one thing. To kill an unarmed man who was no longer a threat after you've already had your food? That was another. But at the same time, Beric understood that if the merchant wandered back into town and gave his description to guard, he would become a wanted criminal again.

So Beric drew his dagger, and slid it across the merchant's throat. That night, Beric and the bandits feasted on wine and cheese.

Beric would remain part of the bandit group for a number of years. Though he had initially impressed them with his skill at archery, they soon came to admire his cunning as well. Previously, the bandits would simply fire at travelers from the cover of the forest. But Beric gave them new ideas, such as sending out a few of their own as a distraction, setting up traps, or placing fallen trees in the middle of the road to serve as road blocks. He soon became Derrick's de facto second-in-command, and their ranks gradually doubled as time went on.

The fact that they were killing and robbing innocents had initially weighed on his conscience somewhat, but he soon learned to shake those doubts off. They lived in a world where only the strong truly thrived, and the weak were expendable. And that was what these people were: weak. They could not defend their own lives or goods, and so both would be taken from them. He slowly came to view it as just another form of hunting, and soon felt that same sense of pride and satisfaction he received from killing any other animal.

That said, he eventually became dissatisfied with their way of life. True, it kept his belly and pockets full, but sleeping in the woods next to a dozen unwashed men was not very appealing. At least back in his village he always had a bed to return to and a stream he could bathe in. Then there were the noble lords and ladies, who demanded taxation and tribute from their subjects, but were allowed to sleep safe and secure in their castles and manors. He wanted that. He knew he would not get it, but he wanted it nonetheless, and he would not find it here.

After a raid gone wrong, which resulted in the deaths of half the group, Derrick among them, Beric decided to strike out on his own, leaving his group behind in search of more profitable endeavors.

Skills:

Master Archer: Beric rarely misses a shot, and can draw and notch another arrow in the blink an eye. He is an excellent judge of distance, and although he favors longbows he is a good judge of the range and accuracy of other bows.

The Power of Observation: Due to his years of tracking both humans and animals, Beric is highly observant. He is a skilled tracker, has excellent hearing, and has a fantastic eye for detail.

Agile: Beric is surprisingly quick and athletic. He can climb trees, roll across uneven ground, dodge enemy attacks, and run quite fast for some distance. He is highly gifted at stealth, and good at remaining both unseen and unheard.

Weapons:
-Yew Longbow, with a quiver of two dozen arrows.
-Steel hatchet.
-Steel hunting knife.

Legionnaire Sheet: Cassius the Cunning

Cassius the Cunning

Gender: Male

Totem:
Cassius's totem is black comedy mask, one that would be used in theater. When worn, it shapes itself to fit Beric's face and turns invisible, even to Beric himself. It becomes visible again when Beric takes it off, or when he wants others to see it.


Personality:
Cassius was perhaps one of the more reasonable members of the Shadow Legion. Unlike some of his brethren, he was not prone to fits of rage, vengeance, or cruelty. In conversation, he comes across as highly intelligent and charismatic, with a strong sense of humour. That said, he also did not possess a shred of honour, and excelled at deceiving and manipulating others to serve his own ends.

But ultimately, what defines him is his ambition, and his desire to shape the world around him. He tended to approve of those with lofty goals, who seek to obtain a higher position or find their own way in life, but he would not hesitate to step on those beneath him if they stood in the way of his own goals. And he has little respect for people who seek power for power's sake.

History:
In life, Cassius was a bard and actor who accompanied a theater troupe. This troupe became so famed and renowned that they soon found themselves performing for Kings and high lords. While he enjoyed the wealth and prestige that came with entertaining such lofty company, he couldn't help but notice that so many of the people he entertained possessed tremendous wealth and influence, yet refused to do anything with it beyond throw lavish feasts and entertain guests. It was frustrating: so much power and potential at their disposal, yet it was going to waste.

Society was stagnating, and in Cassius's eyes, the Shadow Legion presented a solution. Either they would cast down the old regime to take power for themselves, and shape the world in their own image... or the lords, mages, and kings of the land would finally unite to drive them back, so that they would have finally made use of the power they so dearly hoarded but refused to use.

Cassius's charisma and talent for deception allowed the Legion to deceive and manipulate others, and persuade people to follow them. In addition to becoming a powerful magic wielder in his own right, his time at the noble courts throughout the land had allowed him to form valuable connections and uncover various secrets which aided the Legion in their conquests. Though some would say the Legion failed in their goal, Cassius's own personal goal had succeeded: they had upended the status quo.

Now, he is ready to upend it again.

Relationship
Cassius views Beric as a blunt instrument. He respects the man's ambition, and recognizes that there is a cunning mastermind in there somewhere, but it will take time and guidance in order to see those qualities come to fruition. He just needs a bit of direction...

Cassius was also quite fond of his fellow Legionnaires, and save for the occasional quip he was openly friendly to even the ones who were most hostile towards him.

Skills:
Position Swap: Cassius has given Beric the ability to perform a short-range teleport, which swaps his position with someone else. There are limitations, of course, such as the fact that both people must be able to fit within the space they are being teleported to, and the fact that he cannot use it on creatures which are significantly larger than he is.

Illusions: Beric now has the ability to conjure multiple magical images of either himself or other people, and make them speak the exact same voice of the person they are meant to impersonate (though only one illusion can speak at any given time, unless he has them all say the exact same thing). Beric may also project one of these illusions over his own form, disguising himself as someone else. The only way to determine it is an illusion is through physical contact, in which case the hand, weapon, item will pass straight through them.