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Postby Kasoria » Sun Apr 24, 2016 12:34 am

Kasoria of Etzos, a.k.a. The Raggedy Man

"Y'wouldn't think much of him, t'be honest. Scruffy little sod, shambling along, clothes older than yer youngest kid and half as ragged. Never seems to meet yer eyes when y'talk to him. Voice all soft and timid. Pretty sure he has a home, but y'wouldn't think so. Looks like a bloody vagrant, beggin' for alms on the corner.
Five years ago. That's when I.. l saw all of that just... fall away. Squeezed myself into a shadow and just... watched. Prayed he wouldn't see me, prayed to every god I ever heard of, and I swear to you, once he was done, he looked over. Looked through the black and the dark at me and stared into my eyes.
There were bits of them all around him. Across his face. Soaking into his shoes. He didn't blink. Didn't say anything. Just wiped his blade and sheathed it and then off he went. Shambling. Scruffy. Ragged. Like it never happened.
Now I cross the street whenever I see him."


Name: Kasoria

Age: 44

Race: Human

Date of Birth: 9th Day of Ymiden, 673

Marks: None

Factions Joined: None

Languages Spoken: Common Tongue (Fluent), Ith'ession (Broken)

Partners: None

To say that Kasoria is not what one would expect from an assassin would be a fine exercise in understatement. If one were to see him go about his usual rounds, clothes years old and ill-kept, hairy as a monkey and about as graceful, the impression given would be that he's just another derelict. Too lazy or luckless or unskilled to make it in a city built on hard labor and strong work ethic.

So long has Kasoria worn that mask, he rarely sheds it. One time it falls away is when he dons what seems to be the one clean set of clothes he owns, trims his beard and past-the-shoulder length hair, and goes... well, no-one is really sure. The other time is when his true profession and lifelong gift comes to the surface. Then "derelict" and "vagrant" flee from your mind, and words may fail to describe what follows.

Kasoria is a man who knows exactly what he is, and doesn't much like it. But he only knows how to be what he is and, coupled with a puritanical streak, he seems to be driven towards equal parts indulgence and self-loathing. His whole life he has known only violence and the labyrinthine society of Etzos. The latter he has little patience for, its complexity and lack of sincerity being one thing that can rouse his rare but terrible temper. The former is quite simply the one true talent he has always had. From gutter fights as a little boy to bar brawls as a youth to murder as an adult, Kasoria is good at what he does. Very good.

And he wishes he wasn't almost as much as he prides himself in it.

Kasoria seems determined to live a simple life, split into easily-manageable sections he can control without stress, but seems stymied by reality and his own past mistakes. As such, his personality can vary wildly dependent on circumstances. Most of the time, he is humble and soft-spoken, the model of the good boy his mother would have wanted him to be. He feels he needs to be this, a gentle soul well-known in his neighborhood... but that is not the whole story. What he becomes when his master points him in the right direction is merciless, brutal, and without a shred of remorse. Kasoria may deceive himself that it is the thrill of contest and the adrenaline rush of violence that drives him, but in his dark moments, when it's naught but himself to justify anything to... he admits he enjoys his work.

If Kasoria has any hope in being something more than the fractured, almost schizophrenic man he is, that hope lies in subject of the trip he makes every few months to a town outside of Etzos. When he returns, even the blind and mad can see the change come over him. But his "work" takes it toll, the positive, hopeful glow fades, and he becomes the ghost again. A weapon in rags.

His story started in the poor part of town, in the heat and the dark of a Ymiden night. There were no omens ill or favorable, for he was but another child among thousands born that year. His parents worked and strove and loved and fought and cried and even quietly prayed, two more doting parents among many. He was a small and quiet child, but stronger than the two they had lost before. Yasmina thought he would be their only child, though she prayed hard for a daughter. Six years later she would get her wish, but in that heated night in the middle of the 673rd Arc, Yasmina gave birth to Kasoria, and Rama rejoiced in having an heir to the modest store he had built up from a threadbare stand in the Citizen's Market outside the city walls.

The boy grew up, joined by a sister, Lilith, both short and swarthy and dark-eyed. His slight size meant he was sometimes picked on, but speed was on his side, as well, and when he could not run, his tormentors found that a feral violence stirred in him, too. He played in the streets and the caverns below the city. He wandered them like all children did, acting like an uncrowned prince exploring his future kingdom, unanswerable and free to go where he liked, as long as adventure awaited. By the time he'd reached his tenth birthday, the meandering focus of childhood had hardened into a few definite traits.

First of all, he held no truck with the whispered faith of his mother, with her little clay idols of Immortals she tucked away when she wasn't worshiping. Second of all, he was quietly aghast that a life of bagging dried goods and household menials waited for him, working in his father's store. Thirdly, he loved them both, and his sister, and the distant family that they visited every late-Saun, venturing north of Etzos to holiday with cousins and aunts and uncles.

Last of all, he knew how to fight. He was small and slight, but not weak nor afraid, and when he fought, he held nothing back. As childhood grew into the strength and aimless fire of youth, Rama watched his son grow with concern. He was proud that his son, sadly like himself in his height and build, was able to defend himself, even if his "technique" was more brawling than boxing or wrestling. But self-defense was fast turning to compulsion, delight in the chaos of fighting. He shirked his chores and beatings obviously held no fear for him. Only his sister's gentle, determined persuasiveness seemed to cool the fire in the boy's hear, if only for a while.

Rama and Yasmina turned to their wits and their faith for answers. But in the end, it was Etzos that provided one.

Every barroom brawler knows that there are some men you don't hit. Sometimes they find that out the hard way, like Kasoria did. He woke up in the Hall of Rule and Reprimand, a boy seventeen arcs old and already with the knuckles of a grown man, and the scowl of a bitter one. He woke up to bruises and a hangover, and an armored figure staring inquisitively down at him.

The man smiled, and asked him what he wanted to be in life. Kasoria answered with the truth: a free man, out of the damn cell. The armored man nodded, and said all he had to do was get past him.

Kasoria tried, and laid exactly one punch on the man. It cost him three broken fingers and a breezy speech about the stupidity of trying to rip the ears away from off-duty members of the Black Guard in a lonely Outer Perimeter watering hole. As the boy lay panting and spitting blood, the man said something else to him.

Offered, in fact.

Sergeant Tantos was not a recruiter, but had an eye for talent. A Black Guardsman was a match for most thugs in Etzos, and this brat had nearly bested two of them before he'd clobbered him around the ear from behind. Such a waste, if he was allowed to continue in the gutter, maybe even go so far as to be locked down here and just be... forgotten. Tantos decided to do something about that, and being a former gutter rat himself, knew just how to sell it.

Kasoria came home to a worry-stricken family bruised, limping, wearing a cadet's uniform and bearing his first season's pay in advance. He was going to be a Black Guardsman. Yasmina thanked the gods in a silent whisper, and the more worldly Rama stared with pained eyes, but eventually congratulated his son. It was not the answer he was expecting, but it was a better future nonetheless.

Cadet training passed by in a whirl, and Kasoria was surprised to find that he quite liked it. Not just the nice bed and good food and combat training, but the sense of something solid and real and breathing that he was part of. Something greater than himself. He walked straighter and prouder. He steered clear of the thugs and gangers he'd called brother before. He had a higher calling now, and the future was bright.

So has said many a man, before night falls.

Lilith loved her mother, and shared her faith. When Yasmina prayed to her little clay idols - to Chamadarst for her husband, Chrien for her son, Ethelynda for her daughter - her daughter was there with her. Like her brother, she had no fear of others, nor their opinions. Though it gained her scorn and jeers, she was unafraid to confess her faith, and said she would pray also for those that sneered at her. The Immortals were flawed, but they could be good, she said. Her big brother was the perfect proof for that, and one day everyone would see.

She was wrong.

As so often happened in Etzos, disease spread through the Outer Perimeter. Families were shattered, loves torn apart, and Yasmina succumbed along with the rest. Lilith tended to her every break, insisting that her brother would visit her, hold her hand and be there for... whatever followed. But it was not Kasoria that came to the door. It was a gang of wild-eyed men, grieving and vengeful and ignorant and scared in all parts. They sought scapegoats, and the confessed Immortal-worshiper was an obvious target. Lilith rounded on them without fear, noting that her own mother was one of the sick, but it did her no good.

They wanted blood. They took it. From both of them.

Tantos tried to stop Kasoria from finding out, then tried to stop him going back to the old neighborhood. He failed both times. He sent out cadet patrols, ordered them to the bars and groghouses and pubs and even the underground shebeens everyone pretended to know nothing about. Spread the word that the killers of the two women were to seek protection, or invite death. They were too late. A commotion was reported. Fighting. Fire. Death. Horror. Tantos and a detachment found a house in flames and a wounded man outside.

A gladius in each hand. Red from tip to hilt. Face shattered as a broken vase, staring at the flames... and the corpses he'd left inside.

Kasoria never found out why he wasn't exiled, or just locked away and left to die. He knew only that Tantos was never seen again, and he was forbidden for even looking at the Hall he'd called home for arcs. At twenty years old he was on the streets, with his broken father and working in a pokey little store where every day was the same. Rama knew what would happen. How he would backslide. Only now it was with honed skilled and trained fists, studied in a graceful but savage fighting art, first learned on the streets and now hones as a cadet. The angry young man had become a weapon, without a hand to grasp or direct it.

But there were always those willing to pay for a grip, as it were.

Years passed. Father and son grew apart as son grew darker in deed and thought. Rama knew how his son was able to afford to move out of his family's house. He knew how he was able to afford food and drink and clothes and rent and everything else. On some rare nights, his friends would mention seeing him, hands stained and feet swift. Or they would share some gossip and quickly censor his son's name when they came to some scandalous and mortal deed done in the darkness.

His son was a killer, and Rama knew it. He died with that knowledge, heart giving out as he stacked shelves one morning, no wife or daughter to hear his last breath. No son left who would care to. Or so he thought.

Those who assumed Kasoria despised his weak father would have been proved mistaken. As far as can be told, he became bolder, reckless, even seeking death in the years that followed. His "assignments" for racketeers and smugglers and petty gangland warlords took him across the breadth of the city and beyond. But under all the bodies and blood was an aching, trembling desire for peace. The only peace a man like him could hope for.

Then the strangest thing happened.

He was handed a bundle of rags from an exhausted midwife. He looked down into sleepy eyes and in that single moment, his rudderless life ran aground and would never be moved. A breathless whore chuckled from the soaking bed and asked him what he thought of the name she had picked out for his son.

Kasoria doesn't remember answering. Just nodding. Unable to look away.

The man that walked into Vorund Storage and Leasing was so different in character that the owner had to blink and squint to make sure it was the same man from before. Everything seemed the same, from the gait to the hair to the beard to the clothes, but there was a light shining out from the mercenary's face that was different. Not renewed so much as transplanted. As if some fresh spark for life had been added to embers growing cold, and now Kasoria spoke to him not as a freelance killer seeking a job, but a man asking a favor.

He wanted his son to be safe. He had made enemies, and would make more. They would punish his son if not him, and Vorund knew plenty of people. Guardsmen, lookouts, smugglers, forgers, dozens of contacts from all walks of life that could spirit a woman and her babe from the city without anyone noticing. True enough, Vorund agreed, but what was in it for him?

Kasoria drew his gladius, and laid it on the table. That was what he gave, and the promise that he would never take it back. Not while Vorund still lived.

That was eleven arcs ago, when the century was still young. Since then, Vorund's fortunes as a boss in Etzos' turbulent underworld had waxed and waned, sometimes merely a season apart, but Kasoria has always been his most dependable executioner. Paid well, of course, for every man had to eat, but always remembering the debt he owed the racketeer. Traitors, spies, competition, intractable clients and other such threats to Vorund's profits... all have met the slight, ragged man in some way. All never met anyone again.

And as a reward beyond coin, every other season Kasoria leaves Etzos, ventures into the strange world of grass and trees and brooks beyond the mortar and brick and stone of his living. He walks or takes a wagon, paying a few coppers for his seat, until he comes to a town north of the city. There he stays with some cousins who know little of what he does for a living, and are smart enough not to ask. They know he is polite and respectful, but spends much of his time wandering the town. Even spending it with a woman they know well, who came out there years before, with a bastard boy whose high-born father had abandoned, the poor dear.

Kasoria seems to like the boy very much. When he bids his cousins farewell, sometimes mother and child are there to say goodbye, too.

Kasoria's home outside the city walls to the south-east is as sparse and impersonal as one would expect from a man who walks around resembling a beggar most of the time. One would even argue that given his lack of possessions, it's probably twice as much as he requires. A bedroom with a termite-eaten bed, a washbasin for hygiene, a table with two chairs, and a handful of worn books. Even his cutlery and cooking supplies only take up one small cupboard, easily fitting on top of the stove.

  • One set of clothing, all of Poor Quality (brown coat, white, black pants, undergarments, a pair of boots)
  • One Set of Toiletries: Soap, A comb or brush, razor, toothbrush, toothpaste,
  • One waterskin
  • Two sets of eating utensils
  • Tinderbox
  • Good Gladius
  • Good Karambit *
  • Masterwork Throwing Knives x10 *
  • Good Chain-mail Vest *
  • Four books: History of Etzos, War on The Immortals, Practical Recipes, and Human Workings
  • First Aid Kit
  • Vial of Scarf Rot x10 *
  • Vial of Ghost Mushroom x9 *
  • Whetstone *
  • Makeshift and oft-repaired training dummy, made from planks, rope, rags, and old clothes *
  • Second homemade dummy, this one less damaged, mainly used for throwing knife practice *


"This is the life we choose, the life we lead. And there is only one guarantee: none of us will see Heaven."
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Show No Pity in A City Full of Sin
Posts: 232
Joined: Sat Apr 23, 2016 11:34 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Problem-solver
Renown: +155
Character Sheet
Prophets' Notes
Plot Notes
Medals: 3
Painting With Words (1) Murderer (1) History Repeated (1)


Postby Kasoria » Sat Mar 03, 2018 1:03 pm


Name: Bangun Vorund
Age, Race & Gender: 61-arc-old human male
Skills: Business Management - 62 / Intimidation - 60 / Blades (Spring-Loaded Dagger) - 48 / Politics - 35 / Leadership - 47
Immortal Marks: Unknown

If one drew a line from the Western Gate to the Eastern, Etzos would be effectively cut in half. To the south of that line is the territory of Bangun Vorund, and you'd never know it. Mainly because Vorund's fiefdom is one of hustlers, dealers, thieves, pimps, smugglers, mercenaries, and other such denizens of the underworld that thrives beneath the feet of the law-abiding (sometimes quite literally). Despite entering his seventh decade, Vorund is as ruthless as he was twenty arcs ago, when he crushed the last of his gangland rivals and became the de facto boss of the South Side. Although some whisper that while his mind is still sharp, his will is lacking.

His operations are based in the Citizens Market and are mainly spread across the Outer Perimeter, but only a fool would think someone could survive for two decades as top dog in South Etzos without friends in high places. Vorund's influence and interests have seeped into the Commercial District and, if the rumors are genuine, even into the ruling powers of The Citadel itself. On a day-to-day basis, though, his authority and enterprises are enforced by his reputation, his knack for making deals, and the merciless bloodshed unleashed by his loyal enforcer, Kasoria.

Name: Martyn
Age, Race & Gender: 10-arc-old human male (DOB 15th trial, Saun, Arc 707)
Skills: Basket Weaving - 20 / Cooking - 17 / Unarmed Combat (Brawling) - 8 / Storytelling - 5
Immortal Marks: Unknown

In some ways, Martyn is one of the best kept secrets in Etzos, for only three living souls know his true parentage. Two would rather die than reveal it, knowing the danger it would place him in. Another knows that he would die if he did. The boy himself is oblivious to this secrecy, though. As far as he knows, his father abandoned his mother years before she moved to Westguard, a small town ten days from the city. Young as he is, he doesn't much care for history, having more interest in the boundless potential of the present and future. All he knows is that his mother loves him, and that's enough.

Now he's into double-digits, however, he's starting to understand that things are expected from him. So he does chores for his mother, helps her at the store she works at, and does all those things that drive a young man insane with boredom. His real enjoyment is to be found exploring, concocting tales and legends from his imagination, which his mother always says he should write down. But there is darkness in him, too. A fondness for violence. An unwillingness to bow down to authority, any authority, whether legal or maternal. His mother scolds and hides her tears when he comes home, scuffed up and sullen. Because she sees his father in those moments, and that frightens her.
"This is the life we choose, the life we lead. And there is only one guarantee: none of us will see Heaven."
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Show No Pity in A City Full of Sin
Posts: 232
Joined: Sat Apr 23, 2016 11:34 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Problem-solver
Renown: +155
Character Sheet
Prophets' Notes
Plot Notes
Medals: 3
Painting With Words (1) Murderer (1) History Repeated (1)


Postby Kasoria » Wed Mar 07, 2018 1:03 am

Renown Ledger
Item/ ThreadRenownTotal
Don't Be Naive +5 5
Enemies Foreign and Domestic +5 10
Execution Break +10 20
All Hope Abandon Ye Who Enter Here +10 30
The Messenger +5 35
Picked The Wrong House, Lads +10 45
Thing Not Planned For +5 50
Bugger of a Night +5 55
And Like That... He's Gone +10 65
Old Faces +5 70
Tidying Up +15 85
Thanam O’n Dhoul +10 95
Bigger Fish +10 105
The World Beneath The World +10 115
Before +5 120
After +10 130
Bone and Metal, Blood and Fire +5 135
The Logical Conclusion +20 155

Starting Package 100gn ...
Good Gladius ... 26gn
Hat (Men's) ... 10sn
Books (two non-fiction, one fiction) ... 28gn
First Aid Kit ... 22gn
Ghost Mushroom (one dose) ... 10gn
Contract Fee 250gn ...
Groceries ... 3gn
Information [PC Payment] ... 50gn
Chainmail Vest and Throwing Knives ... 52gn
Poisons ... 300gn
Cover Charge and Dinner ... 3gn
Contract Fee 500gn ...
Seasonal Wages Minus Living Expenses (Cylus 718) 399gn ...
Shopping ... 35gm
Scarf Rot Dose x1 ... 10gn
Contract Fee 1000gn ...
Caravan Passage ... 3gn
Seasonal Wages Minus Living Expenses (Ashan 718) 2436gn ...
Child Support ... 3000gn
Lodgings ... 33gn

Total Currency: 0 ON, 1100 GN, 0 SN, 0 CN
"This is the life we choose, the life we lead. And there is only one guarantee: none of us will see Heaven."
User avatar
Show No Pity in A City Full of Sin
Posts: 232
Joined: Sat Apr 23, 2016 11:34 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Problem-solver
Renown: +155
Character Sheet
Prophets' Notes
Plot Notes
Medals: 3
Painting With Words (1) Murderer (1) History Repeated (1)


Postby Kasoria » Thu Mar 08, 2018 3:03 pm

Thread List

Arc 718:

I. Go For The Flow - 4th - Kasoria hits the books to learn how to better use his karambit
III. Liberty and Death - 8th - Training is always for a purpose, and his purpose was fell, indeed

"This is the life we choose, the life we lead. And there is only one guarantee: none of us will see Heaven."
User avatar
Show No Pity in A City Full of Sin
Posts: 232
Joined: Sat Apr 23, 2016 11:34 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Problem-solver
Renown: +155
Character Sheet
Prophets' Notes
Plot Notes
Medals: 3
Painting With Words (1) Murderer (1) History Repeated (1)


Postby Kasoria » Fri Mar 16, 2018 12:31 pm

Skill Points AcquiredTotal Points SpendProficiencyKnowledge
Unarmed Combat (Ki'Enaq) 100/100 N/A - FT Master 43
Blades (Karambit) 60/100 (105/251) Expert 23
Blades (Gladius) 50/100 (75/251) Competent 13
Endurance 50/100 (75/251) Competent 14
Tactics 40/100 (55/251) Competent 33
Intimidation 30/100 (35/251) Competent 22
Discipline 30/100 (35/251) Competent 37
Stealth 25/100 (25/251) Novice 4
Deception 25/100 (25/251) Novice 18
Cooking 10/100 (10/251) Novice 9
Acrobatics 15/100 (15/251) Novice 0
Poison 5/100 (5/251) Novice 3
Intelligence 5/100 (5/251) Novice 16
Caregiving 5/100 (5/251) Novice 0

Fast Track Skill: Unarmed Combat (Ki'Enaq)

Thread or Skill NamePoints AwardedPoints SpentRunning Total
Unarmed Combat (Brawling) 25[RB] 25 00
Starting Package 50 00 50
Blades (Gladius) .. 20 30
Cooking .. 10 20
Acobatics .. 15 5
Poisons .. 5 0
Intelligence 4[DJ] 4 0
Endurance 4[DJ] 4 0
Caregiving 2[DJ] 2 0
Don't Be Naive 10 .. 10
Enemies Both Foreign and Domestic 10 .. 20
Execution Break 10 .. 30
Legacy 10 .. 40
D.I.Y. 10 .. 50
Slippin' Into Darkness I 10 .. 60
Second Wind 10 .. 70
All Hope Abandon Ye Who Enter Here 10 .. 80
Merchant Of Death 10 .. 90
Unarmed Combat .. 25 65
Whatever It Takes 10 .. 75
The Messenger 10 .. 85
Picked The Wrong House, Lads 10 .. 95
Stealth .. 25 70
No Skips, No Excuses 10 .. 80
Deception .. 25 55
Blades (Karambit) .. 25 30
I've Got A Little List 10 .. 40
The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship 10 .. 50
Things Not Planned For 10 .. 60
Bugger of a Night 10 .. 70
The Pledge 15 .. 85
Tactics .. 35 50
And Like That... He's Gone 10 .. 60
Discipline .. 35 25
The Departed 10 .. 35
The Ferryman 10 .. 45
The Covenant 10 .. 55
Endurance .. 1 54
Intelligence .. 1 53
Caregiving .. 3 50
Old Faces 10 .. 60
Unarmed Combat .. 20 40
Fools Gold 10 .. 50
Tidying Up 10 .. 60
Blades (Karamabit) .. 50 10
Thanam O’n Dhoul 10 .. 20
Veni 10 .. 30
Bigger Fish 15 .. 45
Endurance .. 20 25
Vici 10 .. 35
The World Beneath The World 15 .. 50
Midnight Menu 15 .. 65
Vidi 10 .. 75
Gladius .. 50 25
Before 10 .. 35
During 10 .. 45
Unarmed Combat (Ki'Enaq) .. 30 15
After 10 .. 25
The Long Arm 15 .. 40
Bone and Metal, Blood and Fire 10 .. 50
Endurance .. 50 0
The Call of The Void 15 .. 15
To Trouble Their Fathers I 10 .. 25
To Trouble Their Fathers II 10 .. 35
To Trouble Their Fathers III 10 .. 45
Intimidation .. 35 10
To Trouble Their Fathers IV 10 .. 20
Go For The Flow 10 .. 30
Repetition and Acceleration 10 .. 40
Liberty and Death 10 .. 50
Blades (Karambit) .. 30 20
Tactics .. 20 0
The Logical Conclusion 10 .. 10

"This is the life we choose, the life we lead. And there is only one guarantee: none of us will see Heaven."
User avatar
Show No Pity in A City Full of Sin
Posts: 232
Joined: Sat Apr 23, 2016 11:34 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Problem-solver
Renown: +155
Character Sheet
Prophets' Notes
Plot Notes
Medals: 3
Painting With Words (1) Murderer (1) History Repeated (1)

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