A Prelude: God-Touched
The Capital of Lavendale still stirred with life though the sun had long since fallen past the horizon in a spectacular display of a glowing mural of red and orange shades. In it's absence, two large moons ascended into the black, star-studded sky, and now their sides gently caressed like the pale glowing lips of two lovers.
It was the starting night of the Celebration of Anul, a holy remembrance of the sacrifice for love the benevolent goddess of the Moon gave, and King Amaedus, influenced by the urgings of the priests, had declared the rare celestial crossing of the Moon's symbolic. Celebrations were planned to be held every night, and that made some people's lives much easier...
A human, who's face was obscured in darkness by the hood of his brown commoner's clothing, was stumbling down Merchant's way in the opposite direction of the celebration and in all likelihood he was just a very drunk ne'er-do-well. In front of him, on the cemented pathway he stumbled along, was an elegantly dressed merchant, who was clearly on his way to the King's masquerade Ball, and as drunks so often do, he crashed into him.
"I'm shorry, shir," The man slurred, then laughed at his drunkenness. "The shelebrations have me a bit--"
The merchant thought it was odd he couldn't see the face of the man, however he couldn't be bothered with these things so he shoved him away. "Get away from me you smelly groveling peasant before I ask for your execution." He hissed, "The nerve of the rift-raft in this city..." He continued on his way a little incensed, but also completely unaware the weight of his coin purse was replaced by a rock, and the small ornate dagger, at his waist, a stick. The man stood perfectly still as he watched the merchant strutting down the path in his fancy silk outfit.
Then, as silent as a shadow, the man darted down the alleyway and, to any onlooker, seemed to melt into the darkness...
An ancient book of lore, Dra Divinium , spoke of those who, because of their outstanding skills, would become blessed by the God or Goddess who ruled over their trade, and thus gain almost supernatural abilities. God-Touched, as they were called, were rare individuals, and perhaps only a handful existed in the entire world, both known and unknown. The people once fervently believed in the existence of these individuals and many Charlatans, who were quick to capitalize on the belief of the people, flooded them with claims of amazing abilities which were, in all reality, fraudulent or simple magic tricks.
Soon, the people came to believe that the God-Touched were myths... and nothing more.
But what of that man, who possessed an almost supernatural skill of silent and swift movement? One could try to explain it away as very diligent training, but no amount of training could make him seem to 'melt' into the shadows.
If you asked that human if he was God-Touched, he would first laugh at you and pull back his hood to reveal himself as a reptilian Krya. Then retort to you with, "I do not believe in the gods when they have brought my people to the level slaves in this society. We cloak our reptilian bodies, and hide our faces in shame and fear where there was once pride!" Then he would leave you with those thoughts as he deftly scaled a nearby wall with inhuman speed, or rush off into the cloak of night.
To him, he was like every other thief of the lowly Nightthorn guild, but they saw him climb the ranks with frightening speed. Every time, he would seize the next spot in the chain of command by a ferocious show of skill against any of the other veteran's who challenged him. It was predicted he would rise to the distinguish rank of guild master very shortly, either by force or skill, and that made a lot of people uncomfortable .
He held only a few close friends, all of them from his first assigned subgroup in the guild. There was Jasmine, a human woman who's blonde-haired beauty was only comparable to her skilled use of longbows; Kael, who was the only other Krya in the guild, pale yellow-green scales, and nimble hands for pockets, picks, and forgeries. Finally, there was Josh, a lowly cut purse who seemed to be oblivious to the crush Jasmine had on him since the group started thieving together almost a seven years ago. They only knew the strange, dark green scaled Krya as Leo and even they had troubles dealing with him. However, their association with him made them feared by most of the guild.
It would be their skillful guidance that allows the Nightthorn guild to claw it's way above every other guild until it eventually dominates all ways of life along the Windy Coast as the dreaded Blackthorn Assassins. Their individual faces would fade away in time as they would become known and talked about throughout the known world as The Council, but no one would talk of the guildleader who was titled: The Wraith.
What would become of Leo, however, was still yet to be decided...