Within the swirling Mist (IC) > Biographies

Jorius - Blade Reflections

(1/2) > >>


Past Chapter Zero - Last Fight in Amn
Past Chapter One - Punishment
Past Chapter Two - Sacrifice
Past Chapter Three - Theresa
Past Chapter Four - Rage

One - Barovia
Two - The Gourmet

Isfaen was on the ground, injured, covered in her own blood.

"Jorius! KILL HIM!" she said.

It was raining, the sun was falling, two men were standing in front of each other in the wilds near Athkatla. An helmite knight and Jorius, both with their weapons in hand.

"You can still surrender, young man, drop your weapon and face trial." the knight said.

The knight's sword was covered by Isfaen's blood, Jorius looked toward her one last time than faced the knight.

"I can take one man, knight, I have done it before." Jorius said.

"So be it, I will deliver judgement here and now."

They started fighting, Isfaen was powerless, she tried to reach for her blades and stand but the pain was too strong.
In the mean time, the sound of steel and feet stepping into the mud filled the air.

"She trained you well, a pity that you ended up being the apprentice to a cultist of the Mad God."

"You don't know what you are talking about, knight, talking wont save you."

The knight's expression changed, solemn and somewhat sad. Jorius charged against him, no sound of steel this time, only their steps.
Jorius was injured, the knight managed to avoid his blow and hit him instead.

"I am sorry, may fate be kind to you."

"NO! Jorius, my son!"

Jorius looked at his chest, dropped his sword astonished, he was defeated... his blood staining his armor.
Before he could realize it, the knight kicked him, pushing him off a cliff.
He could hear one last scream from his mother, while looking at the cloudy sky, falling down toward his death.

"This is the day I die."

He prepared himself for the end, all went black.
But when he opened his eyes, he wasn't dead, he could tell.
It was cold, he was still in the wild but it definately wasn't Amn.
Still injured, managed to stand and walk, slowly, toward what it seemed to be a nomad camp.

How did he manage to get that far from Athkatla?


It was just another night in the brothel.

Customers coming and going.
New girls with tears on their eyes after their first experience.
Some arguments about payments.

Jorius didn't even need to draw his sword that night. But then Yriel, one of the girls, walked next to him whispering.

"Go see the Madame, there is work for you." she said.

Jorius walked toward Isfaen's room, the more experienced girls looked at him knowing.
If Jorius abandoned his usual spot there must have been some kind of problem.
They started whispering between each other.
When he walked into the room Isfaen was furious, her way of being furious.
She always had a mask on herself, acting as the perfect partner to spend a night with, smiling, being friendly and smart.
When that mask was dropped Jorius knew that she was furious, her expression was neutral, her right fist trembling.

"I am here, mother." Jorius said.

She stood up walking toward him.

"My beautiful son..." she said with a neutral tone, her words were gentle but he felt she said it just out of habit.
"One of the guests refused to pay, saying that Jill didn't satisfy him, hit her and insulted her. The poor girl has been here for two weeks only."

Jorius looked toward the wall, avoiding her eyes, he knew where this was going.
"What do you wish me to do, mother?"

She smiled, that wicked smile he knew.
"I want to see him gutted, like a pig, I want everybody to see it... I want the pool to be crimson red..." her tone was slowly going up.
"I WANT THE OTHERS TO UNDERSTAND THAT NO ONE MESS WITH MY GIRLS! UNDERSTOOD?!... He is in the baths... the girls will let you know who."

"Yes, mother." Jorius pushed down his emotions as he was taught to do, Isfaen changed her smile to a more loving one and caressed his face just before he took the door and left.

Jorius entered the baths, one of the girls pointed to a middle aged man in the pool, drinking some wine. Some of them started walking out slowly, while Jorius walked toward the drunk man.

"What do you want, oh, is that a sword? I thought you were one of these whores..." Jorius didn't let him finish, performing two quick slices, one on his throat and the other on his chest.

The guests started screaming, even some of the new girls. Some ran away, others remained exactly where they were, petrified. The blood slowing turning the pool red.

"Tell the Madame that it's done. You girls know what to do with the body." He said to one of the older girls, cleaning the falchion on the man's clothes, then he walked away.

Another night in the brothel.


It was early morning, the brothel was closed.
Jorius was still a boy, he wasn't allowed to roam around the place during the opening hours.
Even still he knew perfectly what that place was meant for.

He walked into one of the halls and grabbed an apple from a table.
Kiron, the present bouncer of the brothel, a middle aged man former soldier of the Amnian army, walked the corridor.

"Go see your mother, she is down in the cellar." He said, while walking toward the entrance, probably to go back home at the end of his shift.

Jorius was confused, he wasn't allowed to walk into the cellar, he never knew the reason.
The door to the stairs was closed but not locked, he slowly opened it, a screeching noise.

"Come dear!" Isfaen's voice could be easily heard from down the stairs, but there was something else, lower.
Somebody was whimpering?

He walked down the stairs, Isfaen's gown was covered in blood, a man was tied against the wall, blood dripping from his fingers.
Cuts and scars all over his body, fear was growing into the young boy and he tried to look away, intruments of torture on the walls.
Isfaen grabbed Jorius' head, directing his eyes toward the tortured man.

"Don't look away. This is your day, my child." she smiled, sliding a sharp dagger on the boy's hand.
Jorius was confused, he grabbed the dagger with all his strenght and looked at his mother.
She frowned with in an inquisitive expression.

"Don't look away." She said again.

Isfaen walked next to the whimpering man, almost caressing his face, but cutting his skin with her nails.

"This is my son... kill him and you are free to go."

The man opened his eyes and looked Isfaen in the eyes, confused.
Fear was taking control of the boy, he was visibly trembling, for a moment he looked toward the stairs.

"Try to tu run, and I will kill you myself." Isfaen said to her own son.

"He is just a boy..." The man said, hardly able to talk.

Isfaen freed him, the man could hardly stand on his feet.

"What are you waiting for?" She said to the man.

"I am sorry..." he said, with tears on his eyes, looking at the boy.
He grabbed a bottle of wine and broke it, hitting a stool.
Isfaen smiled, that wicked smile Jorius knew.

Jorius was petrified, tears started to drip from his face.
The man ran against him.
The boy already started his training two years before, he could dodge a blow from a man in that condition.
Fear was the worst enemy in that situation, slowing his thoughts and reactions.

He did it, stepped to the side, but it wasn't enough.
The man managed to cut his face.

"Now!" Isfaen said.
That voice was like thunder in Jorius' head.
He screamed and stroke, the dagger thrusting deep into the man's chest.
Helpless, he started coughing blood out of his mouth, Isfaen walked next to her son and kneeled, grabbing Jorius' hands and dagger.

"This first time we will kill together." She said, and without notice moved Jorius' hands, stabbing the man on the right temple.
The man was dead, Jorius was trembling, but something changed... he felt something else.

"Do you feel it...? Growing inside you... your first kill... that feeling of accomplishment... euphoria... that's what we feel when we walk on a thin rope... and we make it accross. This is the first time you ever felt alive my son... and I gave this to you." She smiled at him, with genuine motherly affection.

Jorius slowly calmed down, he was feeling it, he put his life on the line and he made it.
He felt the fire inside, and smiled.

"Thank you, Mother..."


They call this land Barovia.

A number of days has passed since I woke up, wounded, in the middle of a forest.
I woke up in a land full of dangers, my skills were immediately put to the test.
A test that I am failing, every day.

Slowly I'm starting to get used to being surrounded by people coming from all the different corners of reality.

Words I do not know.
Cultures I do not know.
Ideals I do not know.

I do not understand how so much people can show a kind nature in a world like this.
Locals treat us outlanders like trash, and they should, in a world so poor and dark, why should they be kind to nobodies like us?
Even so, I feel surrounded by "good" natured people.

What is it?

Are they trying to keep a stage running?
Like they were never misted, refusing that their lives have changed?

I can't help but feel that they are all lying.
I believe it's some sort of spread out madness.

But what about me?
I have nothing left apart from my sword.
My mother, my land, my job.
All gone.

I managed to find a job as guard for a tavern in the city.
But the only thing I'm doing is training, trying to be prepared for this world.
I feel empty, without real purpose.

They talk about gods, ideals, dreams.

And I feel nothing.

The only thing that remain is the thrill of fighting, my only companion in this journey.


Sunset light was coming through the windows of the brothel's main hall.
Jorius was still young at the time, 15 years old, he started working as a guard for the brothel only one year before.
He was escorting a middle aged well dressed man through the room, next to him, a girl.
Her dress was old and consumed, but there was dignity in her posture, in her eyes.
Jorius and the girl glanced at each other, he was struck by the resolve and determination in her expression.

Than they stopped, in the middle of hall.

"Tell the Madame that her guest is here." He said to one of the women at the border of the room.

After a few minutes Isfaen arrived, with two women on her side, she was stunning and well dressed as always.

"So, this is the girl." she said, squinting her eyes, examining the young woman.

"She is, you have the most beautiful women of this city here, Isfaen, why are you interested in this slave?" the man replied.

"You are man, but you don't know men good enough apparently, Gendrius."

"What does that mean?" he replied, frowning at her words.

"Most men come here to use beautiful women, they are not interested in what is inside. Some men come here for pleasures beyond that, they like to bend the soul of a woman, feel powerful, break their innocence. This girl will do just fine, I see the fire in her eyes. Good money will be paid for her." Isfaen said with a light tone.

Jorius didn't like that statement, he knew that his mother was cynical and shameless about her ideas.
He was used to it, but this time it felt wrong, he couldn't understand why.

"What's her name?"


"You are one of my girls now, Theresa. Julia will instruct you on everything you need to know." Isfaen nodded toward one of the women that came with her.

Theresa grabbed the sides of her old dress and bowed, the motion was graceful, and even after those words her eyes were still determined.

Jorius couldn't stop looking at her.
He knew what that girl would have started doing in the brothel.
He knew it for all the women in the building.
But the thought of that particular girl, going through all that, for the first time felt wrong to him.
She turned back toward him, and they looked at each other again.

"Jorius, escort Gendrius to the door."
Isfaen's words cracked his flow of emotions and ideas.
He fell back into reality and nodded.

"Yes, Madame."


[0] Message Index

[#] Next page

Go to full version