(( This is a continuation between characters who know eachother and their opinions on shizz, or pretty much. Know what they look like, know what they can do. Btw Illy, if there are more then five mistakes. Lemme know, cause I was testing out this websites ability to spell check. ))
Wandering. Wandering across places, across lands and even across magic itself, Demarius had been moving for a long time. He remembered how he crossed across great distances through magic. There were many lands he touched, many people effected forever by his passing. Some hailed him a hero, others condemned him a killer--heartless and without compassion.
Ultimately, Demarius did one thing perfectly. He got in other people business and whenever he came to a new land, there was always an altercation between himself, the local crime lords and the leaders of cities and states. Demarius did not respect the law outside of the light, and acted always within it.
Well, he had been walking the land of Serendipity long enough to irk some of the wrong people. His name wasn't spoken yet by the people as a vigilantly nor a hero. Just a handful of assassins had been dispatched to slay him. What they did not know was that this was exactly what Demarius had wanted. When they came after him, they fed him. They gave him exactly what he needed to know his life was worth anything. Because of this, Demarius fled.
He ran to Selevea, knowing this would be an wonderful proving ground to show the criminal underground and the entire state that he had come and that nothing would be the same again. Yet, what Demarius did not know was that he was walking headlong into an adventure that perhaps not even he could handle.
Regardless, after a week or so wanted posters would be posted against the peers, docks and doors of taverns. The poster would be next to no good however, showing little but a face hidden by half of a mask with spiked hair. This would be after a series of violent, bloody murders. The odd thing was, even if a good eighty percent of those killed were criminals. A small percent seemed to be just normal people.
That was the first of things that did not normally happen when Demarius made a city his home base. Or at least, those who were not criminals being slain. The second, was that he was being followed by a exceptional agent sent by combined efforts of three of the great houses. Following Demarius on his road, with a special mission.
Word would spread quickly of this killer, slaughtering local smugglers who brought both drugs, weapons and slaves. (The latter actually being a criminal offense in this country) A few wanderers had come, curious about the uproar. The local cartels were up in arms and the shadow of death was looming over them all.
It was rumored that the blessed slayer (the name that sprung up) used a local bar as a hunting ground. Waterfront Spirits, an accurate name for it was a few feet away from the docks.
Inside of this bar would several tightly knitt groups of tattooed thugs, smugglers and the like. The only one who sat alone was a man with tight leather armor, soft brown eyes and stark white hair. The others seemed to ignore him, for he let nobody speak to him.
For one who knew Demarius however, they might look for him in areas that they knew where he favored. These being the sewers and the tops of abandoned buildings. Finally... Demarius always seemed to be pulled into conflicts.
No matter what happened, the board was set and the pieces were moving. A plot had begun that not even Demarius could keep under control, or at least not alone. Would this be his final adventure? Only time could tell.
