Nessuno Mortale

[No_Mortale 54]

Nessuno Mortale

Nicknames:

Age: 82

Gender: Male

Race: Elf/Human

Status: Alive

Description

Height: 5'11"

Weight: 76kg

Body Type: Muscular

Eyes: Brown

Hair: Black

Skin: Tanned

Markings/Tattoos: A small mark on his right wrist

Health: Fit as a fiddle

Personality: Intelligent, serious, witty, controling

Inventory: A small otf blade, and a bent steal longsword

Further Details:

Life Style

Alignment*: Chaotic Neutral/Chaotic Evil

Deity*: None

Religion: Illuminus Obscura

Alliance/Nation/Home Malinor

Job/Class: Man of Fortune

Title(s): Senior'

Profession(s): Builder, Farmer, Man of Fortune

Special Skill(s): Assassiation, Propaganda, and Trechery of all sorts. Nessuno is in physical prime, and is a practiced gymnast.

Flaw(s): Psychopathy (see VA for more info, no meta remember )

Magic*

Current Status:

Arch-type:

Sub-Type:

Rank:

Weakness(es):

Strength(s):

Current Spell(s):

Weaponry

Fighting Style: Covert

Preferred Weapon: OTF Knife

Favored Weapon: Long Sword

Archery: Composit Bow

Biography

Parents: Eziano Mortale, Celede the Wh*re

Siblings: Unknown

Children: None

Extended Family: Unknown

Pet(s): None

History

...Nessuno Mortale...the name Eziano his father gave him...meaning...’No Mortal’... Nessuno Mortale was an accident his father made back in the prime of Lauralin in Aegis. His mother Celedë was a local *****, and a beauty at that, who one night at the tavern caught his father’s eye, and made her wage for the night. Nessuno came about nine months later, to Celedë’s annoyance, but such was life. His mother settled down for a time, and raised Nessuno to the age of one, but her supply of Minas was dwindling, so she went back into her field of expertise.

Celedë was around during the day to care for Nessuno, but after he was put to bed she went out about her dark business. Nessuno was kept at home most of the day for the first ten years of his life,but as this half human, half elf matured he started to seek freedom. The sun fell behind the tree’s of Lauralin one night in the season of the Great Harvest. Nessuno had been left in the small tree him and his mother called home. Staring at the leaves above him from his bed, Nessuno started to become restless. He was curious, and fearless... Rising he climbed up the tree and looked out the way that his mother usually left to...work. He sat there for some minutes,wondering again, probably for the millionth time,about how his mother rolled in the Minas. Curiosity and courage combined and lead him out into the treetops high above the winding path his mother walked every night. Climbing along he eventually heard the sound of singing and music,along with the ruckus of restless and rowdy people.

Climbing lower in the trees Nessuno approached the noise and peeping through the tree canopy he saw the tavern. Bright lights, big men, elves, and little dwarves all conversed with each other, some on friendly terms, other’s not so much. Looking around he spotted her, his mother... Celedë was dressed provocatively and was surrounded by huge ugly men... One monster, swathed in a great oily mop of hair grasped her by her lovely blond hair and muscled her off to the side. Nessuno kept a steady gaze on the horrible situation his mother was in. Celedë kept up a pathetic smile as she was handled by this whale of a man, who was drowning in his own liqueur. Making a turn the man hustled her off around a corner into a small tree labelled ‘Kitchen’. Nessuno quickly re-positioned himself in the balcony until he was above his mother, and this horrible beast...He watched as his mother was abused in all dimensions, but let her be. He understood that this was how she kept him and herself alive, but regardless his blood boiled at how this man was handling her.

The man threw his mother violently on what looked like a kitchen table before returning to his business, bringing out a small cry from her. This pushed Nessuno over the edge, jumping down quietly he gasped the shelf behind him. His teeth gritted and his hands shook rapidly. Fumbling along the shelf he grasped a crude butcher knife tightly in his hand.Moving forward to the man he grasped his shoulder. Pulling with all his strength he turned the man around, and bringing his knife to bear he rendered it unto the man’s flesh. The swarthy man didn’t have time to cry as his throat was sliced to pieces by three consecutive cuts. Falling backwards slowly to the ground he left Nessuno standing there with his mother lying crying on the table. Leaning down he dipped his hand in the man’s blood, and smeared it along the kitchens trademark symbol... This image remained forever in his mind.

Due to his...actions... Celedë took Nessuno and fled Lauralin. They reached the Cloud temple and took refuge with the monks there. No one ever came after them, no one even suspected them.Together they joined in the exodus from Aegis, and arrived on the vessels in Asulon. His mother couldn’t deal with the sight of Nessuno anymore. His form brought back memories of that dreadful night that she just had to forget. She left him with the monks of the Cloud Temple and departed, what became of her Nessuno never knew...Nessuno for a time was a scribe in the temple, learning to read and write, but his lack of attention was his undoing. He was transferred to the kitchen, where he worked with the most unbearable soul in the business...The dwarf cook, Falthur, a bane in existence. It seemed that his life’s goal was to make Nessuno’s life as miserable as possible.

It was only two weeks into this job, and Nessuno was already driven to the edge of sanity. One day Falthur was screaming yet again at Nessuno. Slowly he zoned out to Falthur and his constant screaming in his face, during which flashbacks of that night returned. Rapidly before his eyes he saw the shelf, the man, the knife...the slices across his neck and chest, and the blood on the wall...Waking from his daydream he rubbed his hands together, to feel something...warm... He listened...there was no shouting... Looking down he saw his hands, stained in red, Falthur sliced to pieces, and the blood inscription on the wall. He stopped breathing for what seemed like a life time.

Slowly life returned.... He didn’t need Falthur... He didn’t need anything... Walking off slowly he left his past behind. He left the temple shortly after, never to be heard of by the monks, leaving the bloodied corpse of Falthur, and a legacy behind...

Artwork

Nessuno Mortale at Present

Nessuno Mortale at age 30

Nessuno's Signature Weapon, his custom OTF Knife - Triton