Zachariah
BLACKJACK!
Adam decided to reevaluate his life choices as he hung in the dungeon, chained both hands and feet to the wall. He had once heard someone cry for help, but that had long since ceased. Where had he gone wrong? He supposed he went wrong in accepting the assignment, the one that set him against the Mask of Winters, but what was he supposed to do? He prided himself on two things, a 100% acceptation rate, and a 100% success rate, and when a mysterious figure in a robe came to him asking him to steal an artifact from the Mask of Winters' personal armory, he knew he couldn't turn it down; Besides, if he did succeed, he would gain world renown and be the best mortal thief ever to walk this land.
But that wasn't where it truly started, was it? The actual catalyst that started the terrible dominoes of doom that was his existence would have to be his birth. Now where was he born again? He feared he was beginning to lose himself in the silence, which he thought was pretty funny, as he guessed he hadn't even been here for more than a week. Back to the mental recap, he thought to himself. He was born in the upper north, during one of its many less-than-celestial years. His village had been ransacked shortly after his birth, and his parents fled to the east, where they settled down in a little town called Ravenwood. That town was sacked also, leading to the death of his parents and him fleeing to a large trade center where he began using the alias of Raven and began making a living by stealing from shops. Eventually, someone caught him and threatened to turn him in unless he sabotaged the competition through theft and planting vermin. He had done so well the impressed shopkeeper paid him for his efforts. Thus began his career as a mercenary and thief. He eventually gained a reputation for having an exalted level of determination and professionalism, which earned him the rest of his nickname.
It had started well, admittedly, his security was a joke, the sewers were more than big enough to sneak in, although for some reason the whole thing smelled of salt. Then there were the enormous air ducts. Why did he even need air ducts? He's dead. The armory itself however, was where he found a welcome challenge, heavily guarded, magical wards, traps and a ridiculous amount of locked doors. He snuck by the guards, disrupted the wards, disarmed the traps, and picked the locks. At the moments of his triumph, when he was to claim the artifact, he blacked out; awakening chained to the wall of a dungeon that stank of hopelessness.
Hearing footsteps, he was roused out of his thoughts to see the Mask of Winters himself standing before him.
"DID YOU REALLY THINK I WOULD LET AN ENTIRE ROOM OF VALUABLE ARTIFACTS BE SO PITIFULLY UNGUARDED THAT A MERE MORTAL COULD BREAK IN?"
"I was kind of hoping that was the case. But why then, if you were aware of my presence, would you let me go so far?"
"TO SEE HOW FAR YOU WOULD GO, AND TO LEAVE YOU WITH THE MEMORY OF HOW CLOSE YOU CAME TO SUCCEEDING."
Winters let that sink in before beating him to near unconsciousness.
Adam looked in hatred as Winters left the room. He would have his revenge. He would complete his assignment. He would do the impossible.
But that wasn't where it truly started, was it? The actual catalyst that started the terrible dominoes of doom that was his existence would have to be his birth. Now where was he born again? He feared he was beginning to lose himself in the silence, which he thought was pretty funny, as he guessed he hadn't even been here for more than a week. Back to the mental recap, he thought to himself. He was born in the upper north, during one of its many less-than-celestial years. His village had been ransacked shortly after his birth, and his parents fled to the east, where they settled down in a little town called Ravenwood. That town was sacked also, leading to the death of his parents and him fleeing to a large trade center where he began using the alias of Raven and began making a living by stealing from shops. Eventually, someone caught him and threatened to turn him in unless he sabotaged the competition through theft and planting vermin. He had done so well the impressed shopkeeper paid him for his efforts. Thus began his career as a mercenary and thief. He eventually gained a reputation for having an exalted level of determination and professionalism, which earned him the rest of his nickname.
It had started well, admittedly, his security was a joke, the sewers were more than big enough to sneak in, although for some reason the whole thing smelled of salt. Then there were the enormous air ducts. Why did he even need air ducts? He's dead. The armory itself however, was where he found a welcome challenge, heavily guarded, magical wards, traps and a ridiculous amount of locked doors. He snuck by the guards, disrupted the wards, disarmed the traps, and picked the locks. At the moments of his triumph, when he was to claim the artifact, he blacked out; awakening chained to the wall of a dungeon that stank of hopelessness.
Hearing footsteps, he was roused out of his thoughts to see the Mask of Winters himself standing before him.
"DID YOU REALLY THINK I WOULD LET AN ENTIRE ROOM OF VALUABLE ARTIFACTS BE SO PITIFULLY UNGUARDED THAT A MERE MORTAL COULD BREAK IN?"
"I was kind of hoping that was the case. But why then, if you were aware of my presence, would you let me go so far?"
"TO SEE HOW FAR YOU WOULD GO, AND TO LEAVE YOU WITH THE MEMORY OF HOW CLOSE YOU CAME TO SUCCEEDING."
Winters let that sink in before beating him to near unconsciousness.
Adam looked in hatred as Winters left the room. He would have his revenge. He would complete his assignment. He would do the impossible.