Player Name- Jerial
Name- Farius Masello
Weight- average for a muscular male of such height
Physical Description- Farius Masello is a muscular Guardsman, particular that he keeps in top physical condition in every way possible. He has long, straight ash brown hair, usually kept unbound (to the annoyance of his superior, Evard...this might or not be purposeful slighting on Farius’ part), and mild brown eyes that are still able to smolder at a moment’s notice. He wears a short yet noticable and well-kept beard of gruff, coarse hairs.
Masello’s normal garb is, as most guardsmen, slightly different from the others. He normally wears a relatively tight, dark brown tunic and slightly looser leggings that almost match the shade of his tunic, and dark brown leather boots that reach upper-mid shin. Over this, he wears a small pauldron, thick boiled leather with a thin metal plate studded on the top (on the left side, as he is right handed) and a pair of studded leather bracers (the right only covering the outside of his forearm, the left with special padding on the inside of the arm to protect against an arrow’s fletching). The pauldron is kept in place with buckling leather straps worn over his tunic.
In winter, Farius wears a thick cotton undershirt under another, looser tunic, and a linen cloak. He also usually wears the cloak when leaving Marn on official business. He’s never seen without his bow and quiver slung over his back, though.
Of course, his duties require him to wear a fairly extensive belt, with a scabbard for his short sword (which he probably even use even if there was a call for it), a pair of small leather tubes for carrying delicate (and by this I mean secretive) missives (which he hates doing) on his right hip, and a small linen sack full of bishani provided by the Guard for minor work-related (yeah, right) expenses right behind it.
Farius has a tattoo of abstract, interweaving licks of flame from his neck just behind and below the hinge of his right jawbone down over the back of his shoulder and snaking slowly around his arm before curling and separating into many hissing serpent heads just above his elbow. This is the only distinguishing mark on his skin aside from sparse, inconspicuous scars one would expect to find on a guardsman.
Personality- Farius Masello is not well known for his humility. He’s a proud, audacious young man, and he’s not afraid to flaunt his arrogance in front of all the equally young, yet less daring common women that smile at him as he passes in the street. For all his bravado, however, Farius is not very ambitious. He’s content with having the world in its current situation under his thumb, or so he thinks. As another guardsman (or woman), you either love him or hate him.
Masello is a connoisseur of fine women. Changers know Sisara has had to cover for him numerous times while he is out fornicating, and Masello is relatively unaware of the burden he can be at times. Fortunately, or perhaps tragically, he’s also very charismatic. He’s never had a major problem being able to find someone to make sure he keeps his job.
When he is on the job, which Sisara is lecturing him to do more often, Farius is a good, solid worker that’s able to work logically and intuitively.
- A fine yew bow and a quiver full of solid arrows with iron tips and goose-feather fletching. The arrows are standard guard stock, but the bow was bought by Masello personally through one of the quartermaster’s contacts.
- Three ‘dummy’ arrows for target practice and jacking with people. These have gotten him in trouble before, and will likely do so in the future.
- Clothing, standard guard armor in addition to his archer-specific gear, stock short sword, etc., all provided by the Guard quartermaster.
- A small, humble house not far from the barracks. There’s not much to it: small fireplace, a few books and a small stone statue of a hunter with his bow on a dusty chest of three drawers which house his small collection of civilian clothes, a small, rough-hewn table and three chairs, and a bed. The bed is the most expensive piece; Farius values comfort while he sleeps, and when he...sleeps.
Archer- Masello was trained to be an archer by the Guard, and he was a natural from the start. He keeps up his skills nowadays by showing off for women, hitting a flying bird out of the air or some such display of skill. In a combat situation, which Farius has only been in once, he would have the skill to focus and pick off moderately armored assailants with shots to the neck or similarly unarmored areas, or be able to defend himself/move around and fire shots that he hopes hit their marks in a deadly fashion.
Keen Eyes- Years of archery have honed Farius’ eyesight, giving him slightly better than 20/20 vision, maybe 15/15 on a clear day. This goes largely unnoticed, as it’s simply not needed for the overwhelming majority of functions he performs during the day. Farius doesn’t even really notice, as he’s grown accustomed to how well he can see and he’s not really aware that it isn’t normal. He makes no special note of it.
Muscular- Meticulous is a fair word to describe Farius’ attitude regarding his physique. It’s his ticket to all the women he wants, and his deterrent to men who would want to challenge him. He works hard to keep his body in the best shape possible, and it’s actually one of the only well-structured and beneficial routines in his life.
Lover- Farius Masello is a ladies’ man. He’s nearly irresistable to those poor common girls who see him as nearly superhuman, both a guard and ruggedly handsome. As aforementioned, this has gotten him in poor favor with some of the guardsmen, either from envy or contempt.
Fisticuffs- Women have gotten Masello into several fights, and he’s become a decent enough street fighter to hold his own, winning most fights largely because of his raw strength.
Street Smart- Having grown up in Marn, and having crawled all over it doing Changers know what, Farius is well versed in the artificial geography of the city, and though most wouldn’t suspect it, is actually one of the more knowledgable guardsmen about direction within the city (notwithstanding the fact that the whole of the guard know the major, relevant regions of Marn like the back of their hand, and well more than half know much more than that).
-He also knows quite a bit about the law of the street, and is well-suited to assignments involving the lower population of Marn (if he can keep from being distracted).
Headstrong- Masello thinks himself relatively untouchable, with his charisma and several other guards having his back. This has the potential to be very bad for him if the situation is right; relieving of his duties or even imprisonment could occur if several circumstances arose at once, such as one of his go-to people slips up or he’s flat out caught skirting rules, which is less likely (he’s been doing this for a while now).
- For all his smoothness, Masello’s not a good liar. Most suppose it is because he is too bold to want or need to lie, and they’d be just about correct. Sisara usually has to lie for him if such a tale needs to be told, as she knows he’ll say something stupid and get himself chastised or even punished.
Lack of Discipline- Though everyone but himself can see it, Farius would be a huge contribution to the Guard and Marn as a whole if he would focus and become a hard-working, well-disciplined member of society. In fact, he has the potential to be one of the best guards in Marn, if he put his mind to it. However, everyone also knows there’s approximately no chance of that happening in the forseeable future.
Melée Novice- Farius has seen very little real combat action, so he doesn’t realize how valuable being skilled with a melee weapon is. He has skimped out on standard Guard sword training, passing largely because of his archery skills and natural power. If faced with anyone that is more than a neophyte with a melee discipline, he will either run and seek a place to pick them off with an arrow or attempt to disarm them and take the fight to blows, where he at least has experience and natural talent.
Mouth- Masello has a rough vocabulary, especially for the guard, who are expected and strongly recommended to speak respectfully. He usually doesn’t watch himself any more around his superiors than if he were alone or in a particularly raucous tavern.
Hard Drunk- Farius doesn’t drink exceedingly often, but when he does, he doesn’t stop until he is so stone drunk he can’t think well enough to drink any more. As with most of his more ‘charming’ traits, this gets him in trouble with his superiors whenever it causes a problem, which thankfully isn’t often due to the intervention of tavern owners or regulars who are used to his routine.
Reliant- As evidenced previously (I hope you got the picture...), Farius is dependent on others to maintain his reckless lifestyle. If his support system of Sisara, a couple of other close guardsmen, and several friendly and sympathetic citizens ever failed, he would be in deep trouble. Deep, thick, murky, choking trouble.
On a day-to-day basis, Farius can count on having Sisara bail him out of something. In fact, most of the time he isn't even aware of how much Sisara saves him from. She's like his own personal garbage crew, cleaning up after the mess he makes.
Leftovers- Farius is often in trouble with his superiors; they put up with it for now because he isn't harming anyone, but all it would take would be one instance where someone was harmed (or a superior that greatly disliked him) to get him in real trouble. Farius' actions aren't exactly secrets, and they give the Guard a bit of a bad reputation, leaving honest people in a bad light that don't deserve to be in.
Perfect Storm- The childhood of Farius Masello combined a number of factors that left him with a need to feel control over his environment. His lack of control with his father, his grandparents, and the chaotic nature of the streets all contributed to this compulsion. Farius expresses this control by circumventing rules and avoiding situations he may not come out on top in.
Paternal Problems- Masello hasn't seen his father since he was a child. This has left a gap in his life that he might not even know exists; it is this lack of parentage that is a major contribution to his need to be with so many women.
Ancestry- 170 PW-168 PW
Ardres Tresioro Masello Acosta was the forgotten descendant of a forgotten Puradyne community in Corezo. He was thrown out and sentenced to exile, for he was a lesser, younger son of a household of many sons, left practically to his own devices, and was therefore a guest of the local Puradyne religious administration, as lesser sons of Corezan houses will often interest themselves in a certain area and reside in its place of practice, merely observing and living off of what funds were allocated to him and the hospitality of the Puradyne administration.
Ardres was quite interested in religion; he was mentored by various members in their duties, as tradition dictated he was entitled to the knowledge of whatever field interested him (you see, Corezan families generally have many children, and this is a relatively easy and efficient way of occupying the extras that may cause trouble).Yet he dared to break some far-fetched unwritten rule when he had barely reached the surface of manhood (one may speculate they merely wished to rid themselves of him) and was promptly asked to leave.
He caught a caravan heading east through the relatively small city, and, assumedly bitter at his family, he asked to travel with them. The head of the caravan, a frail, shrewd, yet soft old man agreed to take him along after a quick once-over of the young man of nineteen winters. He told the leader, who was central Europan by birth, simply to address him as Ardres, and not to hesitate to ask anything of him. Secretly, the old man was amused (the whole reason he was letting this Corezan on his caravan was to work...he must not be a commoner...bet he doesn’t know we’re bound for Tian Xia).
Parsimonious as he may have been (a useful trait in his profession), the old man (Haraldon was his name) was understanding and wise; he taught young Ardres the skills he needed to earn his keep on the caravan, and it was honest work. In return, he got his share of (rather pleasant) rations and comfortable sleep, as well as free transportation far away from Corezo, which was an aspect of his position the value of which he did not have to pay for in any form.
Now, it so happened that the man had a daughter, the result of the wine and women of Hasele. Even so, he loved her dearly, and as the only girl there, she was happily waited on hand and foot by the workers on the caravan; she was well-liked by everyone, and she was likewise friendly and close to all the laborers on the caravan. Given her maternal heritage, she was quite beautiful.
Naturally, one would expect there to be wariness concerning her safety among so many grown men, as she was at least three winters younger than Ardres, and at most five. However, her father was both fiercely protective of her and quite clear in his expectations regardless. He had a keen eye for spotting immorality in a man in any case, and he made sure none entered his service.
It was only a matter of time before Ardres and Haraldon’s daughter (Lisanna) became friends, and inevitably, they became interested in one another as young men and women of that age tend. Haraldon, being the wise old man that he was (he had been in a similar situation nearly forty winters before), had foreseen this. He had mulled it over, and as time passed, he saw more and more of a potential son in Ardres. He was of at least respectable blood, though that didn’t matter as much, and he was good-looking, kind and respectful if a tad ingenuous, and athletic if not particularly strong.
When the time came and Ardres approached Haraldon when they were stopped on the road between Who-Knows-Where and We’ll-Know-When-We-Get-There, trying for all his might to look mature and composed yet not quite accomplishing it, he knew. “Son,” he preempted him, using the nickname he called most of his younger workers (but almost meant when he spoke to Ardres), “I...” he trailed off, startled at not knowing quite what to say. He looked up slightly to have his daughter catch his eye just out of earshot. He saw her blush and quickly look away, pretending to have been interested in something else. Haraldon nodded her way for Ardres to look. “She is stunning, is she not? Changers know I don’t deserve her.” Ardres simply nodded, glancing back to her as if he already knew she was there (which he did). The young man drew in a breath once more, and again Haraldon interrupted.
“And I’ve seen you two together.” Haraldon was the one who had to keep a straight face now. “I know the thoughts you likely entertain.” He turned and picked up a small metal statue of a bowman, which he busied himself nervously with cleaning with a nearby cloth. “You’ve been with me now for nearly four moons now; I’ve been watching you, and I trust you. You’re a good man, Ardres.”
“A man good enough to wed your daughter, sir?”
After a warranted pause to digest the moment, Haraldon said with his usual nonchalant way of things that naturally defused tension, “Yes, I do believe so.” He beamed at his soon-to-be son in law and grabbed his shoulder. Ardres could not resist smiling in return. “Now go, tell my daughter the news. It is fortuitous you have chosen now; I believe the next settlement is the one I remember having a beautiful field where we can hold the feast.”
Within a week, the marriage had taken place, along with much feasting among the crew of the caravan, all bursting with pride at the little girl they knew having grown up. The marriage was consummated that night at a beautiful glade nearby. The next afternoon, after a morning of relaxation and mild celebration, they continued on the road almost as normal.
As the caravan continued its journey east, it became apparent that Lisanna was with child. Now, the man that he was, Haraldon was worried for her safety. By this point they had passed the great fork that separated the Northern and Southern trade routes that led to the far east of the world, taking the northern route as was the norm for the caravan.
“Are you ready for the next stage of your life, son?” Haraldon asked Ardres, glad that he could finally mean the title. They both knew, for they had discussed it and agreed, Lisanna and the child must not continue on to Tian Xia. Safety was not a major concern, but it was of the utmost importance to both of them that no harm befell the mother or child. Therefore, it was in their reluctant best interests to have the couple stay in a nearby town until the child was old enough to be cared for the on the road.
“I do believe I am, sir. Where is this place you speak of where Lis and I will raise our child?”
“Marn, son. It’s not much, but I know a good man there by the name of Dorin. He and his wife will help you get along until I can return.” They were both silent for a minute. The only sound was that of the pack animals at a casual pace, efficient but not hurried, and rhythmic. “Maybe then, I’ll finally settle these bones with you two, three rather. We’ll find the most beautiful valley in Eyropa and build an estate. Where we go from there, not even I could know. But I have faith in you, you’ll make a good name for yourself.”
“It is my life’s dream, sir. To give my wife and child the gift of a comfortable, full life.”
“Changers were watching the day I picked you up all the way back in Corezo, son.” No more words were needed.
The next day, the caravan arrived at its closest point to Marn. Haraldon spent an entire afternoon fussing over his daughter and the small cart filled to bursting that was a part of the dowry, and Ardres did nothing but accompany him. Her burden was now plainly noticeable, and by Haraldon’s vague predictions, he’d be back in time for him or her to learn his name.
A long farewell was had, which ended with Ardres wrapping up Lisanna in his arms and telling her how much he loved her, and how much he was looking forward to their new, if somewhat temporary, life. They both felt their father’s hands clamp their shoulders in his usual way, then he released them and walked back to the waiting caravan. When they opened their eyes, there was something slightly different in their gaze, unsure but hopeful and unafraid.
It was a short walk to the gates, and an equally short discussion with the pleasant guardsman at the gate afforded them entry and guidance to a place where they could find a home with the money they had at hand (which was plenty more than enough). That day, most of their business was attended to: their currency was exchanged to the local coin, they met with Dorin and his wife, acquired a rather average abode, assembled the furnishings that were a combination of newly bought and given by Haraldon, and emptied the cart into their new home.
Much time passed; Ardres was employed in the town; the baby, a boy named Hadrian, was born under the surname Masello (a simplified version of Ardres’); and all was well. The family was part of Marn now. Still, though, the two new parents kept their former home on the caravan in the back of their minds.
Finally, later than expected but not to a worrying degree, news came of the caravan they were expecting nearing the town. Ardres hurried home and collected his wife and child, who were both greatly excited (Lisanna at the return of her father, baby Hadrain simply at his parents’ joy). Ardres led their roan mare to the main route to await their arrival.
Soon, a group of a few riders on horses came up the route. Their leader was easily recognizable as one of the workers Ardres had befriended on the caravan. One other was vaguely familiar, and the last wasn’t recognizable at all by Ardres.
The lead rider, Ardres recalled his name as Seth, dismounted silently and approached the family. “I was expecting you here,” Seth said in his deep voice. He seemed not to meet their eyes.
Ardres was confused. Of course they would come meet them, it was the plan all along, from the time they arrived here. “As planned, yes. What has gone wrong?”
Seth met his eyes for the first time. The couple prepared themselves immediately; they both knew the burly man didn’t mince words. “Your father, Lisanna, has passed on. He met his end in Tian Xia.”Silence boomed louder than any noise. It reigned, reveled in that second before Lisanna started to whimper, then whisper nonsense, then grab onto Ardres’ tunic as she started to sob. Seth stood resolute. Ardres was strong for his wife’s sake, but also obviously shaken. A tear ran down his face.
Obviously feeling sympathy, but not knowing how to show it, Seth awkwardly continued. “I’ve been placed in charge of the caravan. Haraldon wanted me to tell you to live honorably and well. You both were on his mind as he breathed his last.” By now, the caravan was in sight, approaching at its usual calm pace. At least that much had stayed as it had been.
Ardres’ arm crept around his sobbing wife, making sure not to squeeze so tightly as to hurt the child between them.
“Your father had a large amount of currency stored for when he returned. They were to become your family estate, as he called it. It’s only right that we give it all to you.”
Seth motioned to one of the workers on the caravan, which was now upon them. He nodded and started to unpack barrels and bags and such from a large cart slightly away from the others. “He was a great man,” Seth offered, and neither of them had any doubt he meant it wholeheartedly. They all knew it was true. “He entrusted me to make sure this reached you.”
Ardres reached out and received a small statue of a bowman, and only now did he realize it perfectly embodied the spirit of Haraldon: alert, astute, safeguarding, providing. Lisanna, still shaking, a sob still escaping her every few seconds, reached out to take the statue. She cradled young Hadrian with practiced ease in one arm. Ardres, always the bastion, supported both the child and Haraldon’s final gift with gentle hands. Lisanna glanced back once at Hadrian, then at the archer, and started to sob uncontrollably once more.
After sending a few men with Lisanna and Hadrian back to their home with the cart of bequeathed items, Ardres spoke at length about Haraldon’s final days, of Marn, of their future, and some other small talk before exchanging grips with Seth and wishing him good luck. Seth promised to return, and Ardres thanked him before saying a final farewell and returning to what was now his home for the rest of his life.
The Second Generation- 157 PW-151 PW
Hadrian Masello lost his innocence at the age of thirteen to a lovely girl of seventeen from down the way. Between then and the time he met Mira, he had slept with every other girl of less than twenty in Marn, or so his followers would brag. He had about a dozen of them, younger or less fortunate (mostly both) peers that hoped they would either catch whatever disease he had or pick up what he had just played. Hadrian even tried a couple street drugs just to say he had. Where were his parents in all this? Trusting the little lies he told when he was casually asked about aspects of his life. To them, he was a typical kid, playing in the streets with his friends. He was the child star of the streets.
That all changed the day he met Mira. No matter his efforts, his unstoppable force had met an immovable object. His plague had met an immune host. He actually stopped womanizing for a half a season after he became frustrated with Mira’s rejections. He finally shut himself up in his room of their three-room home, staring at the ceiling or pacing. He had had a revelation: he was sick of womanizing. Hadrian consulted one of his only true friends about it and a confession was suggested. He had expected such: he had begun his friendship with Hadrian because he and his family were strict Puradynes and his parents would have skinned and tanned his hide if he had done half of what Hadrian had done. Still, he was desperate.
The cleric was right where he said he would be at the exact time Hadrian’s friend said he would be there; nothing he didn’t expect from the religious freaks, though. He’d never had the patience to listen to the religious views of the Puradynes, but he supposed now was the time to bite the bullet if it would rid his mind of all the time he’d wasted on the streets. He’d become an honest worker like his father, and forget Mira and all the others.
His reverie was broken by the cleric, who was now lounging on the bench beside him. “Just tell me what’s on your mind, kid,” he said casually. It threw Hadrian off quite a bit. Weren’t these pious old men supposed to be articulate and eloquent? According to these first impressions, this cleric fit none of those descriptions. He was merely a nonchalant young man that happened to be wearing a scarlet robe.
So he told him everything. The pair just sat there for hours, one speaking, the other listening, until the streets were all but empty and the taverns full, and the only light came from lanterns and the full moon. When he was done, the young priest sat there, still staring off into the sky as he had been doing when the sun had resided there. At length, he spoke.
“There’s probably some deep, hidden reason you’ve done all this, kid. The thing is, you wouldn’t give a Changer’s left eye if there was. Way I see it, you just need to move on, be like your father. There’s nothing really you’ve lost from these years, practically speaking. Any other cleric, and especially the martinet, would tell you you’ve been scarred, you need spiritual healing, but there’s nothing to it. It’s shameless promotion of their trade, helps them feel needed. Just find some new friends, work for an honest living, move on. Make sense, kid?”
It did. Hadrian rebuilt his life and no longer had to lie to his parents about what he was doing. In fact, he was working and making a decent income for his age within a year, having dropped all his former friends except the cleric and the boy who referred him to his savior. He still didn’t believe in Puradynism.
Then, at the age of nineteen, as his father was when he met his mother, he once again met Mira. She didn’t remember his face, but he remembered hers. He stared at her as she walked away from the stand he was running in the market for a kind old man who owned most of the stands down this stretch. She must have been twenty-two or so by then.
The next day, she came back again, and she smiled at him this time as she walked away. Over time, her visits stayed daily, and they became increasingly friendly. Changers, he realized, she’s interested in me. She’s not yet married. Even more, she doesn’t remember me. All this may have payed off earlier than he expected.
More weeks passed, and the two began to have regular conversations; then Hadrian began to accompany her when she left the stand, finding a kid to run the stand for him for a bit in exchange for a bishan. Before he could believe it, weeks had turned into months and they were betrothed and the most bizarre turn of events Hadrian could possibly imagine had become of his life.
The tale of the marriage of Hadrian and Mira is a bland tale, not worth recounting here. Needless to say, Lisanna and Ardres were proud parents, still oblivious to the majority of their son’s story.
A Hero Is Born- 151-135 PW
Mira’s first child was a miscarriage that almost killed her. Stricken with fear, the couple did not attempt to have another child for a season, then conceived again, this time with the blessing of Hadrian’s Puradyne former mentor, who had now moved up a rank in the complicated hierarchy of the Puradyne organization.
Young Farius Masello was saddled with a bad childhood as close to instantly as is possible in this cruel world. His mother was in labor for eighteen hours and finally died giving birth. When Hadrian returned that day from managing his row of stalls in the market to find his wife dead, he flew into a rage and promptly into a deep depression. His apathy was so deep Farius’ grandparents Ardres and Lisanna were forced to raise him until his father arrived weeks later to collect his child.
Lisanna’s final overcoming of reluctance to let Hadrian have the baby Farius was likely one of her greatest mistakes. Hadrian was drunk every night and barely caring enough to feed and tend to the child during the day. The only thing tethering him, his binges, and supporting his child was the guilt and goodwill of the man who had employed him to run the stalls all these years. If only Hadrian would have had the foresight to see that just as he had to hire others to run his businesses years ago, he was now getting to the age where he would be succeeded in making all decisions related to the merchant stalls by someone younger and more able. Maybe at one point that could have been Hadrian.
Alas, within a year, the old man died and was replaced with someone that had not the compassion or patience to deal with Hadrian’s binges and lack of work ethic, and the drunk found he and his remarkably hardy child living off of favors and the like, which only sent the distraught father farther down. Soon, he was back to his instincts; his lust had returned, and he was soon leeching both sex and money out of women. That replaced the alcohol somewhat, but still the apathy and pessimism pervaded Hadrian’s mind.
Lisanna and Ardres would often come to see young Farius, but they were often driven away by Hadrian out of knowledge that any advice they had to give would be well-founded and sensible, and most certainly the right way of doing things. It was infuriating to be corrected. At long last, he banned them from coming to see the child again, but still welcomed them when they came with bishani and the ability to take the burden of the child from him, as long as they didn’t speak with him when they were doing it.
Thus Farius grew into a boy, not knowing quite what it was like to be part of a family unit, but learning quite well how to get out of trouble with both his father and his grandparents. As soon as he was able, he started to take to the streets, finding family in the other kids more than a non-existent father and aloof grandparents that came to see him less and less.
He quickly learned the only way to get what you wanted was to be forceful, so forceful he was, and much like his father, he was naturally street savvy and charismatic. He was in circles of those older than him, finding himself at home with the older kids. And so he grew, and became a young man of fourteen years, a leader among those years older than he.
This was fortuitous to another young soul, and though he didn’t know it at the time, Farius as well. He was walking by an alley on the way back to the house where he knew his father had another woman and another bottle. He’d sleep there and be gone when the sun rose. But as he passed this alley, a group of young men, all but one of whom he recognized, standing around something in a semicircle.
Random curiosity drove him to investigate further, and something clicked in him when he saw the young girl there, scared out of her wits at what she knew was about to happen. He had had his share of women for one his age, and had always condoned what may come, crime or not. It was how the streets worked. It didn’t matter that she was years younger than these brutes (the irony was, he was the only one present near her age). But there, in those terrified eyes, he saw a bit of himself, as cornered and afraid on the outside as he had felt on the inside. The difference would be, he had saved himself, but she wouldn’t have to.
Farius asked his buddy Tooth for his club, which the large but dumb eighteen year old gave him immediately. He promptly turned to the right and brought it down hard on the knuckles of knife-wielding Jorin and back around to hit Wulf in the side of the head, stunning them both long enough to grab the girl and run away to the opposite side of the alley, hoping to duck into his grandparents’ house before they could give chase. He didn’t care that the elderly pair would be deep in sleep at this hour.
Thankfully, they were very close, and he lay Sisara on the floor of the main room just as the band of rats rushed past and his alarmed grandfather Ardres Masello rushed in the room. He stopped when he saw his grandson Farius with his hands raised crouching on his floor with a panting, frightened young girl in front of him.
The younger Masello explained quickly and in hushed tones what had happened, and begged to let him and the girl stay there for the night, or maybe a couple nights, until the rats cooled down from their spoiled fun. As a matter of course, Ardras agreed to let them stay, and promptly returned to bed.
From that day on, Sisara became an artificial conscience implanted straight into the side of Farius’ head. They were an inseparable pair, she grateful to him for saving her, he grateful to her for helping him realize purpose. He became her link to the streets and adventure, and she became the only noble thing he fought for.
Manhood- 124-122 PW
This friendship continued and grew to adulthood, when they both became full members of Marn society, with their own homes, however small. Still, Farius had next to no direction, and nothing Sisara could say or do could convince him to be ‘sensible’, as she called it. It would take something much more drastic to attain that goal.
Farius made a habit of visiting his grandparents on occasion. They were, after all, the majority of parenting he received as a child. Today, however, was different. Usually when he visited, Lisanna would be drinking tea from the pot over the hearth and Ardres would be dressing for the business of the day. That morning, neither were present, the fireplace was empty, and there was a chilling draft.
He entered their bedchamber to find Lisanna sitting along the side of the bed and Ardres lying still under the sheets. Farius approached the bed to see Lisanna’s face riddled with tears. Without preamble, she told him, “We’ve already called for the healers. They say there’s not much they can do for him. It’s simply his time.” Just then, Ardres motioned for Farius to approach him.
“Farius, I see too much of your father in you. You see how he is now; he hasn’t even seen you in years. You don’t even know if he’s still alive, do you? I don’t. But here’s something i want you to do, Farius.” He was interrupted by a racking series of coughs. “Become a guard. Do something purely for the benefit of others. Changers know your father never did, even when your mother was alive. Promise me that, Farius. Oh, and one more thing. On the mantle of the hearth, there is a statue of a hunter. Take it. It’s yours now; keep it in the family. That’s all I ask of you.”
And with that, Lisanna quieted him and rose to meet Farius. “Do as he says, Farius. Changers know how long I have left, and then you’re on your own. We’ve invested too much in our lives to see it fall into shambles. Thank fate you came about before your father had a shot at accomplishing that. Please, Farius, honor your family.” She sat down and whispered, “Goodbye, Farius.”
The young man left the room silently, finding and taking the small statue back to his small home with him. Later that day, he received the news that Ardres Masello was dead.
His grandmother soon followed him, and it is odd how anger and mourning drive Farius Masello to making the most well-founded decisions in his life. He enlisted in the guard and was accepted; poor Sisara didn’t have another choice but to join him. It was a pleasant lifestyle, considering the former state, however, and Sisara wanted to do all she could to encourage Farius farther down that path.
Farius has been in the guard for a couple of years now; long enough to have memorized the daily routine and figured out how to edge every second's advantage out of it. When he first joined the Guard, he had no formal weapons training and was unable to fight well with anything other than his fists and a knife. He was encouraged to train with the bow, and discovered he was a natural. Some of the most fun he has ever had doing something related to being a guard is with a bow in his hands. He is by no means a master at this point, but of the archers currently in the guard, he definitely shows promise. In the spring of the past year, he acquired a new yew bow to replace the one he received from the guard armory upon joining.
As for plans to the future, Farius doesn't see himself deviating from what he is doing now. What he doesn't see, however, is that it may all come crashing down on him.
Summary of Historical Dates-
- Ardres born 189 PW
- Hadrian born 170 PW
- Hadrian meets Mira/reforms- 157 PW
- Farius born 151 PW
- Farius saves Sisara- 135 PW
- Farius joins the guard- 124 PW
- Present- 122 PW
I now apologize profusely for repeatedly listening to Bon Jovi at midnight~1~2~3~4~ whilst writing this.
The part of Seth is played by James Earl Jones.