History
The Orders founder was a hunters son, who was intrigued by the alchemy of the hunt. His father used many concoctions of his own design to paralyse his prey and not waste and inch of tender meat. Learning his fathers trade he became an adept hunter and alchemist respectively, and when the old man faded to death, he sought a bigger challenge than the bears he so easily killed.
Travelling further into the forest, he searched for adventure and happened upon a camp, embers rose from the scorched earth and corpses littered the floor. When he drew closer a faint voice called to him, and running over to the body on the floor, the man grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. His breath was foul with an iron stench, blood was seeping from his eyes as he spoke of an ambush and a precious treasure. Finally falling back down into an eternal sleep, he young man found that his clothing was covered in a blue substance from the man's hand. Just then he noticed that a blue path drove its way through the trees and into the wilderness, following it for many hours he arrived at another encampment, the same as the last, however its flames still danced, through the rough foliage he saw a figure retreating into the shadows.
Following the mysterious stranger, he stumbled across a small vial, golden rim and silver plating. Inside a blue liquid swayed this way and that, as he opened the clasp the vial exploded as if an ocean wave as blue as the sky had crashed upon a rock and flew up to the clouds and through the vials open lid – he closed the clasp with tremendous haste. His hands now covered in the stuff, he dabbed it onto his already dirtied top, taking a liking to the look – he covered his entire attire in the blue hand prints.
Delving deeper into the twisting trees after the dark figure, he found himself on a dirt track and almost jumped for cover, a large wagon swung around the bend to his right and the screech of wheels and startled horses set his nerves twitching with fright.
A fat merchant sat upon the wagon, hooded and cloaked, but fat none the less. He hopped rather heavily from the steps and landed with a loud thud, followed by many more smaller thuds as he approached the young man.
A bag of gold for the trinket was the other, but the boy refused. Such a magic item was worth many hundreds of bags of many hundreds of gold pieces and this is what he told the lump.
So that is what he offered, as much gold as the young man could imagine. So the boy ran, and ran as fast as he could. If the merchant would so easily offer such wealth, it was worth much much more than he said. The young boy ran and the merchant gave chase, as fast as he was, the merchant ran as fast as the next man and was beginning to gain.
Screaming foul words mixed in with an incomprehensible language the merchant drew near, the young man pulled the clasp from the vial and sprayed the liquid onto the floor behind him. Slipping and sliding the merchant still ran, picking up speed against all odds, but a small drop of the blue had reached his lips as his shoes threw it up from the ground, and he swallowed it down along with the saliva that had built up in his gluttonous mouth.
A hideous scream of distress and horror crashed over the trees and brush and the young man turned to see the fat merchant on his knees in the blueness, his face bright pink, his cheeks bloated and his nails scratching desperately at his throat. Walking slowly over he watched as the fat of the merchants chins dripped from his body, the gelatinousness ooze of his stomach streamed down and mixing with the ocean of blue, forming a pale island around his dying body. As the young man watched the merchant before him withered away to the nothing, until all but his bones were left, and still his skeletal fingers scraped at his face, his ribcage shook with an attempt to breath and his legs squirmed and darted this way and that, finding no grip in the expanse of his watery self.
Finally to the young man's relief the remains dropped to the floor with a musical clatter, and he walked away into the trees, compared to the merchant, he was fatter.
OR so the story goes, of the poison came to be. From there the young man took on assignments and recruitment, named his group The Blue and they were a fearsome gang. Soon he died and his poison was never found, the gang lived on however and grew to be The Blue Hand after many generations.