awaicu » Hibernal Den » Vendetta

Vendetta

(#92934003)

Things you see in a graveyard | Naomi G4 | he/him

Familiar

Skoll

Energy: 50 50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

19.69 m

Wingspan

19.38 m

Weight

8440.19 kg

Genetics

Gold
Harlequin

Coal
Sarcophagus

Gold
Ghost

Hatchday

Feb 14, 2024
(9 months)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Ice
Common

Level 1 Imperial

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

╭~~- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -~~ ╮

⚔
V E N D E T T A
mercenary

╰~~- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -~~ ╯
bio template by squidragon
code mods by shanncrafter

It was so easy.

The idol had been delivered to the clan some days ago, and the merchant had enshrined it at the back of his shop. There, upon the highest shelf, it sparkled like a jewel. And it eventually caught Vendetta’s eye.
He was then too young to understand what words such as “expensive” and “valuable” meant. But even if he had, it’s doubtful that he would have cared.
All he knew then was that he wanted the idol. And so, it had to be his.
He had some of his friends cause a ruckus outside the shop. When the enraged merchant flounced out, he sidled behind the counter. Carefully picked up the idol, then darted out through the silken walls of the tent.
It was so easy.
He enjoyed the idol’s company for a half-hour. He set it upon his desk and sat nearby, gazing proudly at it.
When a commotion started outside, as the merchant discovered the burglary, Vendetta joined the gathering crowd. He feigned wide-eyed innocence as the Coatl blubbered frantically, alternately wailing about bad luck and chastising the youngsters who’d distracted him.
One of these hatchlings soon caved. She pointed to the Imperial, and the plan came pouring out. A couple of the adults gripped Vendetta firmly. A few more retrieved the stolen idol from his room.
The idol was handed back to the merchant, who snorted at Vendetta’s perfunctory apology. As the Coatl flapped away, the other adults clustered around the hatchling.
“Why did you do it? What were you thinking?”
He muttered noncommittally. He didn’t really see the anger, the disappointment, that marked his family’s faces.
Instead, in his mind’s eye, he once again saw the Coatl flouncing outside, the customers craning their necks out the door. The idol, slipping into his hand as though it belonged there. The coolness of it against his palm.
And also an incredible shock, a thrill, as he’d finally slipped out between the silken drapes. Everyone was still looking the other way. They hadn’t seen him, and he’d scampered home with no one the wiser.
It was so easy...
And he would do it again.

~ ~ ~

The old Veilspun’s eyes were glaucous and gray, but she could still see enough of the shew-stone. Enough to know that Vendetta was the one she sought.
“So daring, even at such a young age,” she rasped. The orb brightened, replaying those images of Vendetta’s earliest days. When he’d decided to steal the marble idol—and taken his first step towards becoming a master thief.
That had been many years ago. Vendetta had grown since then, in stature and skill...and rapacity.
“I hope you didn’t invite me here just to talk about my childhood.” The Imperial spoke lightly, but his eyeridges remained arched, and he’d been tapping his talons impatiently for the past several minutes.
The shew-stone now illuminated his more recent exploits. A necklace snatched from the neck of a warlord...precious metals stolen from a subterranean vault...artifacts enshrined in an undersea cavern...
In between each incident, Vendetta himself, speaking to unseen clients. He appeared as meek or confident as he felt was necessary, but the gist of his words stayed the same.
“Anything you want, I can take it! And it’ll be yours...for a price.”
The shew-stone went dark. For a moment, Vendetta wondered if he’d been double-crossed. The “friend” who’d ratted him out to the Coatl merchant had been just the first in a long line of traitors; he now preferred to work alone for that reason.
“And,” he reminded himself, “once a job’s over, it means I won’t have to share.”
The crystal walls of the cavern slowly twinkled to life. Brighter still, however, was the object the Veilspun now held aloft: a tiny envelope, glowing with soft golden light.
“There is a place in the Sunbeam Ruins. The Cathedral of Eyes. Have you heard of it?”
“No, ma’am,” Vendetta said with a grin, “but that’s never stopped me before.”
The Veilspun remained unamused. “There is a tome I much desire...I had hold of it once, but that was centuries ago, and I’ve been searching for it since.
“This Cathedral is where it’s likeliest to be found. I intended to travel there, even managed to secure an invitation...I was unable to make my journey for...reasons, however.”
Vendetta thought he could guess why. “She’s old, the passage of time now weighs heavily upon her, blah blah blah...”
Instead, he said, “An invitation, you say? Anything else that can help me?”
“Pfaugh!” The Veilspun flicked the invitation into the air. There was a sharp crack, and suddenly it was big enough for Vendetta to comfortably grasp. He bent to examine it as it settled upon his palm.
It was coated in gold leaf, the surface finely etched with overlapping wings and birds. Here and there, eyes peeked, seemingly gleaming with a light of their own. The wax seal on the front was marked with a similar motif.
With another crack, pieces of water-stained parchment billowed down onto the envelope. Vendetta blinked at the interruption.
“These papers contain my knowledge of the Cathedral and its denizens,” the witch droned. “You’d be wise to study them, for the Cathedral can be a perilous place...a perilous realm.”
“It’s not every day a client gives me homework. And my, isn’t there a lot of it.”
“Do not make light of this, Imperial. The invitation guarantees your passage, not your safety.”
Vendetta fought back a sharp retort. He didn’t like this dank cavern, and he liked the client even less. He’d had hostile clients before. Violent ones, even. But something about this Veilspun made him feel...slimy.
Still, she was offering a very lucrative reward. He forced a smile back onto his face. “Let’s discuss this in more detail, then. Although...” He couldn’t help frowning at the shew-stone. “Was all that really necessary?”
The Veilspun let out a dusty cackle. “Indeed. The visions are clearest when the person concerned is nearest—and I needed to determine if you could be trusted not to abscond with my prize.”
“Of course, madam. For me, the thrill isn’t about owning things. It’s about taking them.”

~ ~ ~

The moons were at their peak, but they were slim and sallow and barely put out any light. Even with spells to enhance his night vision, Vendetta had to pick his way carefully towards the Cathedral of Eyes, which was a tall, pointy shape in the gloom.
“But why worry about making noise? You’ve got an invitation!” he coaxed himself. And now he saw other shapes in the dark, moving towards the same destination. Some had lanterns and candles, others glowed with light of their own.
All of them, he knew, had the same golden invitation he carried.
While preparing for his assignment, Vendetta had examined the invitation. To his relief, it hadn’t had the Veilspun’s name on it—or his, which would’ve been terrifying in an entirely different way.
Instead, it read, The Bearer of this Invitation is permitted to enter the Cathedral of Eyes.
He’d also read the witch’s research...well, some of it, anyway. Her handwriting had been too crabbed, her sentences too magniloquent, to hold his attention for long. But he had picked out some useful recommendations.
Among them were several dates when the witch thought he’d be likely to succeed. On this, the night he’d chosen, the Cathedral was holding a masquerade ball. Vendetta adjusted his mask and joined the stream of guests who were, he presumed, here to dance the night away.
The door was guarded by a foreboding, night-dark Imperial. He harrumphed as he checked each guest’s invitation, as though he would’ve liked nothing better than to slam the doors in their faces.
Vendetta managed to maintain his composure. He was not a particularly skilled mage, but among the spells he did know were glamors to enhance his appearance. These, together with his disguise, made him look as respectable as the guests passing through the doors.
The doorkeeper waved him onward. Vendetta was able to hold back his sigh of relief, but it was a bit more difficult to hold back his gasp of awe. The witch had of course described this place—but the splendor, the brilliance of it! The gold leaf on the walls, the crystal chandeliers, the beautifully garbed guests sashaying down the corridors...
The Cathedral was enormous, and he didn’t doubt that a less-prepared thief would need days to find the witch’s tome. “But a master thief like myself,” he chuckled inwardly, “will be long gone from here before dawn.”

~ ~ ~

Vendetta moved deeper into the Cathedral, where it was quieter and less populated. Once he was certain no one was nearby, he ducked into one of the libraries. There, he unfolded a parchment sheet, upon which he’d painstakingly copied the notes and illustrations of the book the witch desired. He concentrated upon them as he recited a spell.
The paper shivered in his grasp, twisting into a serpent that tightened around his wrist. It tugged—and he followed where it drew him, past seemingly identical rooms of hefty-looking tomes.
He stopped before a shelf that contained rows of black books, including one with a cracked leather spine. He tugged it out, and the serpent relaxed, becoming inert paper once more. Still, he had to be sure. As he turned the pages, he recalled the witch’s notes again.
A leather-bound tome, cracked with age, but a gold-embossed sigil still visible upon the cover. A magic circle, an eye. Strings of arcane glyphs radiating from it like the sun’s rays.
There was no title, but he didn’t need one. All he had to do was open it to the thirty-first page...or what had been the thirty-first page...
There was no thirty-first page. And that confirmed that this was indeed the tome the Veilspun desired. For she had, as a young and impetuous witch, ripped the page out. The book had passed to another magician after that, and she’d been searching for it ever since...
“And now I have it!” Vendetta thought triumphantly. He tucked it into his satchel and began retracing his steps.
He soon made it back to the more populated halls of the Cathedral, where he was once again surrounded by masked revelers, laughter and music. He maintained a polite smile as he continued heading towards the door.
Or at least to where he thought the door was. Vendetta’s smile began to slip. He’d been searching for the door for...an hour? “I should’ve gotten out long ago!” He looked around for clocks, glancing over the heads of the crowd, but there were none.
“You probably just got turned around. So many rooms...So many people...”
Everything was so vivid, so blinding. The music was soft, just on the edge of his hearing, but that made it more maddening somehow. Every time he thought it was gone, it started up again. He gritted his teeth and stormed on.
Now he was bumping guests out of the way. He knew he shouldn’t, but it didn’t matter. He had to get out of here.
“Let me through! The door...Where is...the...”
The sentence died in his throat as a dragon turned to look at him. Then another, and another. The music faded away, for good this time, and then the silence was filled with the rustle of clothing as dragons turned to stare steadily at him.
He could not see their faces, for each one wore a mask. And Vendetta now realized, icy fear stabbing through his heart, that there was nothing but darkness behind those eyeholes.
Someone else moved. A dark cloak billowing, one of the “guests” gliding into view. Behind this one’s mask, golden eyes gleamed.
“Found you,” it said with a grin.
Vendetta dove forward. One hand swung in a great arc, a cutlass held in its grasp. The blade carved through the unmoving forms of the dragons around him, and they dissolved like the mirages they were.
All the other dancers vanished—save for the golden-eyed figure, which shed its voluminous cloak. Vendetta blinked in shock. His opponent was a Spiral—one he recognized from the witch’s warnings..
“Cipher!”
“You know my name?” Cipher hissed. “Who sent you here?”
Vendetta responded with another sword-sweep. But Cipher contorted, easily evading the blade. Its smile grew even wider. “Ah, you’ve got teeth! Let’s see just how sharp they are!”
Vendetta’s blade wavered as he tried to follow the demon’s erratic movements. It was nearly impossible: Cipher darted about like a lightning bolt, and it was hard to spot against the dazzling walls of the Cathedral. Vendetta hurled everything he could—smoke bombs, stunning gas, spells—but the demon seemed immune.
Cipher’s tail snapped like a whip across his snout. A tap like a falling raindrop. Quick as an eye-blink, and nearly as imperceptible.
And then pain, like raging fire, blasted through the great Imperial’s body. The Cathedral shuddered as he crashed down, writhing in agony.
Cipher hovered above, its face still frozen in that too-wide smile. “Tyger, tyger, burning bright,” it mockingly recited. Vendetta didn’t hear; he was too busy trying to stay conscious. The pain was tremendous, and he knew that if he didn’t think of something soon, it would kill him.
“Please...” he wheedled. Cipher blinked. “Oho, he speaks! This is the part where you beg for mercy, I presume?”
Under normal circumstances, Vendetta would’ve hesitated. He hadn’t lived this long by being foolish, and bargaining with a demon had to be the most foolish deed in the book. But what was a bit of foolishness, if he could live a little longer?
“I can work...for...you. I’ve got skills...can be useful...”
“Can you?”
The pain faded—enough that Vendetta could stand and talk without weeping. He fought back the agony that remained, and in spite of everything, he managed to flash his usual brilliant smile.
“Yes,” he said, grinning as though nothing untoward was happening. “Just recently, I managed to infiltrate a cavern and steal some holy relics.”
“Boring,” Cipher snorted. “Caverns and relics are everywhere. They pockmark the continent like a disease.”
“An underwater cavern, dedicated to the Tidelord!”
The demon calmly regarded Vendetta, stroking its chin. Its expression didn’t change, but it remarked, “Recently, you say? Divine Water relics have been fanatically guarded ever since the Tidelord vanished. They’re just so desperate to hold onto those little scraps of him they’ve got left.”
“That’s not all!” Vendetta boasted. And he launched into several sweeping tales of his exploits, regaling the demon with stories that highlighted his mettle and skills. It was the interview with the Veilspun all over again—except this time, he spoke with earnestness, with fervor...
And most of all, with honesty. For he was now fully aware how dangerous Cipher was. He did not doubt that the demon would be able to see through even the most beguiling lie.
He needed to convince it that he was worth a bargain. Maybe it would let him live. And perhaps someday an opportunity would present itself, and he could finesse his way to freedom again....
He talked until he ran out of stories. Talked till he was once again shaking with exhaustion and agony, about to sink back onto the marble floor.
But the demon didn’t let that happen. It nodded decisively, and then it held out a paw. “We have a deal!”
Vendetta shook the demon’s claws. And then the masked dancers exploded back into being around the room, all of them clapping appreciatively. They had just witnessed an excellent performance, after all.
And if Cipher had its way, as it so often did, there would be more to come.

~ ~ ~

The old Veilspun was furious. Vendetta had returned without her book, and before he could explain himself, she went off into a tirade, shrieking with unbridled rage..
“Overconfident scoundrel! Couldn’t even make it past the doors, could you?! A stern look from the guard was all it took, I wager!”
In her mind, Vendetta hadn’t even managed to enter the Cathedral. He now quietly told her, “I made it inside.”
“Then where is my tome, you swindler? Where’s the book I paid you to steal?!”
“I found the book,” Vendetta calmly continued, “and I met the Demon of Knowledge.”
Immediately the witch’s demeanor changed. The wrath went out of her, and she looked shriveled and small again.
“No,” she croaked. “You couldn’t have...”
“Oh, he was quite reasonable. He only wanted what had belonged to him in the first place.”
“The missing page?” Relief flooded the witch’s features. She began pawing frantically through a desk, spraying papers everywhere. “I’ll have it in but a minute—”
“The missing page, yes. Among...other things.”
From beneath one wing, Vendetta drew something that gleamed gold. An unlit lantern...shaped like a cage?
It was a cage. A cage that had been enchanted with a spell to entrap certain beings. Those who had made deals with the demon, and found ways to escape...
But not for long. Now it was Vendetta’s task to find them—and to bring them back. To repossess everything Cipher was owed, ranging from sundries to souls.
He had been particularly wary about the soul-stealing part. Books and baubles didn’t fight back, but surely fugitives did?
And the witch fought. She struggled mightily, shrieking curses and spells—but her magic fizzled out, and her wings failed to carry her away. Soon she slumped down, wailing as she was inexorably drawn into the cage. She shrank as she was pulled closer, till she was a mote of golden light no bigger than a firefly.
And there she stayed, inside the cage, her soul illuminating the enchanted lantern.
Vendetta stared at it with awe and revulsion. Despite his misgivings, he had completed his first assignment from the demon in but a matter of minutes. The thought leaped to the forefront of his mind...
“It was so easy!”
From across the miles came Cipher’s whisper: “And you’ll do it again.”

~ written by Disillusionist (254672)
all edits by other users

Lore Notes:
> Possible alternate name: Vendetta, Heist. Formerly named Honor
> He always had a knack for making things disappear. Many tried to dissuade his thievery, but to little avail. As he grew, so too did his skills and it wasn’t long before those with more questionable morals took notice and even began to praise him. “I’ll pay you” some of those dark voices said, “and all you have to do in return is bring me what I seek”. That’s how it started. He could steal anything, or so he claimed… until the day he was recruited to steal something from a cathedral by the sea and he never returned.
> Formerly a thief, contracted to steal valuable items.
> Made a name for himself, character flaw is his self confidence
> One day a patron held up a golden envelope asking if he’d ever heard of the Cathedral of Eyes. Of course he hadn’t at the time. Still he agreed to steal a book from its library.
> Captured while attempting to abscond with the book and brought before the golden demon.
> Nearly lost his life but bartered with the demon that perhaps he can still be of use.
> Bound to Cipher by this promise - continues to steal items requested by the demon, as well as serving as a repossession agent.
> “We can’t have anyone backing out of their deals after all” the demon sneered. “You will bring them back to me”.
> Just a little damaged, but has formed a lot of strong bonds with family and friends within the Cathedral. When Cipher isn’t using him for something he’s free to do what he wants.
> Very romantic and likes to flirt, bisexual and forever a bachelor
> Spends his free time practicing parlor tricks, has a huge crush on a magician (Rhun)

Polvorón > Tritos > Valentine > Me
Naomi > Willow > Vianturea > Me

G4 Naomi

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Exalting Vendetta to the service of the Lightweaver will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.

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