Darreck Kel'lara

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A naturally short-tempered man, Darreck was born to an Elvish Mother and an Abusive Alcoholic of a 'Father.' He spent the greater part of his early childhood avoiding his father's hand -- or trying to protect his mother from the same fate. Problem was, as agile as he was, he was not a brute by any means. Much to his distress, his mother often took the brunt of the beatings for him. While he did have to deal with his piss-ant of a Father, the young boy found solace at the archery range, or when it was one of those rare moments when he and his mother were alone...unfortunately, it was around this time - his early teens - that the young Half-Elf discovered Pesh. He became a classic case of one who self-medicated with the drug.

At the age of 15, his mother mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again. No letter, no note was left by the woman he had grown so attached to. He was left to deal with his Father alone, and at the age of 18, finally ended the old man's misery, and slit his throat in his sleep after receiving a particularly brutal beating from the drunken dick only hours before. He left his birth-town moments after, and has lived for the past 16 years doing odd-jobs -- most involved assassinations or other various mercenary work-related jobs.

Nowadays, he's only drawn more into himself, allowing for him to be ridiculously difficult to deal with. He's not quite a big fan of people. But somewhere behind that black cloak lies a good man; the one who refuses to kill just for the cash -- he lives by a creed; no one dies, unless they are truly deserving.

With his life having been spared by the Ravenqueen (and at Esteban's grace...over and over again...), Darreck lives with a mission he hasn't quite informed anyone else of; to destroy what remains of the vampire Lord Vyke's family.

The Road to the Assassins Guild
I wrote a simple letter and gave it to a watchman on the HMS Maria at dawn, whom was to give it to Daniels in the morning, with the following written on it; "Going to be gone for a week or two. No longer, no less. Stay docked. I'll be back soon enough - and with necessities." - Darreck.

I set off for the town we had been at no more than a month ago. I was...anxious, to say the least. I had twelve gold, and had no intention of buying anything but Pesh for myself. I felt a twang of guilt that I had lied to everyone else about what I had left for - but...I needed the Pesh. I looked down at my hand as I walked, and for the first time I realized that I was shaking. As much as I hated to admit it, I was going through one helluva withdrawal. It took a week to get there on foot. The days were consumed with thoughts of Pesh, and the relief it would bring me. Pathetic, yes; but I didn't care.

As I entered the slums of the city, I got what was expected; many a weird look, and even a few whom seemed terrified of my very image. I hadn't quite registered at the time just how freakish my cloak looked. If I had the smarts to spread my arms, I'd be reminiscent of a bat in terms of looks.

After consulting with my memory I found myself looking at a shop - one that I would have missed had I not been looking for it. The sweet smell of pesh filled my nostrils, and I...couldn't quite help the urge. I walked my way into the shop, frantically looking around for someone to consult with - I needed my fix, and I needed it then and there. I hopped over the counter - consequently missing the bell I could so easily have rung to grab the attention of the man who'd...eventually become my assailant.

I knocked on the door, and heard a crisp shout. "Who's there?"

I blinked, and slowly opened the door, and watched dumbly as a man with a gun shot me. He shot me. I felt an intense pang in my head as I narrowly escaped death.

I stumbled backward, and clumsily drew my sword. I swung aggressively at the man who now came at me with a dagger! My intent? To behead. The end result? I found myself stabbed in the stomach. The pain was intense, and I passed out from it.

An...amount of time that I simply cannot recall passed-by (one day). A man walked in, and I promptly had one of the worst hours of my life. In spite of the fact that I was naked, save for undergarments, and chained to the ground, I still managed to keep my sarcasm streak up and alive. I was quite proud of myself, to be quite honest. I ended up being beaten, threatened, beaten some more, knocked unconscious, and narrowly beaten to death; then given a task.

A Magus of unnatural power healed me. The 'Northern Druglord,' as we shall now refer to him set me out to kill his only opponent in the town; you guessed it, the Southern Druglord! I set-out on my task -- which I will suffice to say I completed with complete and utter success (I took the Southern Druglord's head to show for it). And I found myself before the Magus and the Northern Druglord.

They planned on making me their own. To 'control' me with a sort of voodoo doll. While it didn't completely control my every move, it was meant to keep me in line. (Basically a 'do as I say or die' scenario.) I was escorted to a room and slept for a full 24 hours.

When I woke I thought of only revenge. I would not let anyone control my life. I paid off a group of bratty teenagers to help me with the murder of these voodoo doll possessing men, as I couldn't quite get past the Magus, the Northern Druglord, and six other guards by myself. These kids...well. They would have made the best Assassins proud -- my own reaction was enough to confirm that statement. Needless to say, these kids were cut down like Swiss-cheese when we actually got past the 'stealthing' part of my self-appointed mission.

Again, for the second time in a span of three days, I was gagged, and shoved into a basement. Now my fourth day in this proverbial hell-hole of a town I was...forced to succumb, and told that my life was now tethered to the Druglord's own. His physical pain became my own. And only did I succumb after I was beaten some more. This time, I was released without healing. (I suffered a broken left-hand which I braced, and my jaw...which by that point was fucked.)

On my way out of the town I - to my distaste - was approached by a man in black. Apparently, he had heard of my doings in the death of the Southern Druglord...How he knew, I was completely unsure. He lead me to his Headquarters, where I was offered a chance to be a member of the Assassins Guild, or be killed merely because I now knew where they were stationed. Well. I had gotten that far, so my answer was...well, I was proud of it, at least.

"Do you know how many times I've been told, 'You're going to be killed,' this past week?"

To which the smart man responded, "Would you like this to be your last?"

My kind of people.

Perhaps it should go unsaid, but I made quite an ass of myself. I had acquired quite a bit of Pesh (four pounds worth) in this entire ordeal...And, much to my joy. I smoked...so much. Perhaps, it clouds my judgement...For I do believe I spent the next 5 hours flitting between thinking I was a flower, and beating up a poor old man for his money. Which, much to my faded-joy, I used at a brothel. {C}

Current Status
Status: Brought back from death by the Raven-Queen, currently a Revenant (Killed by Deckerd Cain in a doppelganger accident)

Noteable Feats:

Killed an Elite Chailexian Musketeer before the Siege of the HMS Maria

Cut off the head of the Swordsman in The Crypt of the Swordsman