Instigator

I am a mystery; I have no history.

I am the enigma which dabbles in the trickery.

A puzzle without a solution; a shroud of pure confusion.

Scream and cry and curse the skies to escape my grand delusion.

Whatever is wrong and what is right?

Lose all your ties to the past tonight!

Step right up and play a game!

Instigator's ghostly flame!

I can see into the future and can bend it to my will.

Why not take a chance and indulge in frightening thrills?

Step right up, friend. Could I ever steer you wrong?

To be honest, you were trapped from the moment you heard my song~

---

This is often the last thing the Instigator's victims have heard before being lead astray, pushed towards dark fates...

Rumors of a chaotic beast have spread throughout the area, popping up in every town within the fifty mile radius. Taking the form of a Spiral, lithe and twisting, crafty and cunning, this creature is not to be reckoned with, for it can lead even the wisest of dragons into its web of fallacy.

Of course, its heart is full of malice; it lacks care for others and carries on as if life were a game. This creature is the player of this so-called game, and all those who stand in its way are either enemies or pawns.

---

You are the Instigator. Puppeteer of lesser beings, the finest trickster, and the most dishonest soul on this side of the line between life and death. Contrary to the babbling of the newspapers, you're only mortal... On par with demons, you dabble in... unsavory practices, but you're still mostly mortal.

Gambling, indirect murder, robbery. It's all under your name, which changes with every victim.

Perhaps you are a Victor... or a Fang... maybe an Oliver if you're feeling particularly dapper, dressed in the finest suits bought from swindled treasure. On occasion, you've introduced yourself as your true name, though that title is reserved for those on the chopping block, dragons who soon turn up missing days after crossing your path.

You've never laid a claw on any of them, save for a handshake to seal the deal. Keyword, "indirect murder", after all.

But your ghost, your finicky little spirit familiar gets hungry at times, and it's oh so hard to acquire the souls of the innocent for it without a little bloodshed. You just leave your associates, be it the vengeful spirits or your disgruntled surviving past victims, to finish the job.

There's a reason you're called the Instigator, after all. Though you're a phony fortune teller at times, via your floating cards, you can see your own fate, and perhaps even twist it, too.

Your doomed little song, a deceitfully pleasant jingle, rings in your head. You tell dragons false fortunes.

"You'll find true love." Six feet under, perhaps, two Imperial lovers, buried together and awakening as one beast in a morbid twist of fate.

"A pleasant surprise shall greet you tomorrow." A Fae, complaining of her lame wing, now has all limbs broken permanently, just to make things even.

"You shall make a fortune." A cursed Snapper awakens with half of her body turned to gold; unable to scream, she weeps tears of treasure.

Before they can connect the dots, before the link between the afflictions and death come back to you, dear fortune teller Oliver or Keith, or Charlie is long gone, their name nothing more than a whisper in the wind.

As you count your treasure and laugh under your breath, you cannot help but feel grateful for your luck.