Kato'Jix Vloz'Ress

[b]Kato'Jix Vloz'Ress[/b]
[b]Race:[/b] Ver'drowendar
[b]Age:[/b] 46 (compare early 20s)
[b]Equipment:[/b]
---A steel [url=http://s64.photobucket.com/albums/h188/Sarcose/action=view&current=khopesh3.jpg]Khopesh[/url], or sickle-sword. Kato'Jix uses this weapon for its versatility, particularly because he does not have to carry multiple weapons to perform similar functions. It was given to him by his best friend, and he has kept it ever since as a memento. It contains a nick in the blade where it struck stone during a pivotal moment in Kato'Jix's life. He has not sharpened this nick away. It also contains a several inch-long, weighted spike on the handle that sticks out at a 45 degree angle. He uses this to make killing blows to the skull and perform surprise close attacks. He recently had added to it a locking cross-guard that he can use to catch other swords, though his lack of skill with this often leads him to disarming [i]both[/i] of them. The sword is a sidearm that he often uses as a backup.
---A bardiche, a type of polearm with a cleaver-type blade. Its haft is shorter than most polearms, and has a sharpened point on the other end. This is one of many pole-weapons he's owned, that he finally settled on. This is the second bardiche he's purchased after losing his first. It is of lower quality than the initial one and relishes excuses to fall back on his sidearm.
---Armor: a mish-mash suit of lamellar armor interwoven with silk backing to make it cheaper to maintain, also giving it weaknesses in the joints. It is poorly to moderately well-maintained, typically with the help of his friend. It is dyed various colors in spots, with purple being predominant and greens and reds covering the arms. The lower body protection is more complete than the upper, being that he doesn't wear a helmet. This is dyed dark red and has patches of color throughout like a rainbow trying to break through his legs. The reasoning for the dyes is that he often needs to replace parts of it, and he buys replacement plates (not knowing how to tan hides himself) when they're available and at random, and picks colors on a whim.
---Money: 10 to 15 ada, saved up to maintain his armor. It is all he can do to keep it wearable.
---Typical belt: A utility knife, one belt pouch containing: a ball of string, dental picks, a silk measuring tape, varying sizes of nails and spikes. One belt pouch with two compartments, one filled with small metal balls, the other with ball-shaped hard candies. A bag of sand tied to a belt loop.

[b]Mana arts:[/b] Basic mana manipulation, with a focus on the mana shield. Wind affinity (untrained)
[b]Starting City:[/b] Chel'el'sussuloth
[b]Clan:[/b] Vel'Vloz'Ress
[b]Abilities:[/b] Combat focus on avoidance and mitigation, though only moderately skilled for his age. See weaponry for his strategies.
A skilled negotiator
A sharp sense of humor (he insisted I put this here)

[b]Background:[/b]

The first defining moment of this wayward snark's life is the detail surrounding his name, then simply "Jix." At around age 8 he acquired this handle from his brothers, of whom he had many, and it referred to a random and sometimes annoying trembling he'd picked up by this early age from their playful torment. Jix spent his formative years deep in the tightly packed catacombs of one of many cramped, run-down buildings used as residence in the poorer common districts of Chel'el'sussuloth, having no room or real space to sleep, knowing scarce the concept of outside the building versus inside it, eating what was fed him by his older brethren until he was able to work for his keep. His "family" consisted of these boys all mostly his age or only a little older, who had been either abandoned or run from their families, and Jix did not know who either of his parents may have been, even if he might have interacted with them. The women and girls of the community - which was treated more like an extended family - he saw infrequently, but when one came by it was always to use them for some purpose or other - popping in to grab a boy or three for play, work, or torture, and returning them later (perhaps much later) in no worse state than when they'd left, with the occasional injury or horrifying story. His fear of women was cemented for a time.

He was always small for his age, and at times treated more like a pet. He took to cowering from most people, lashing out occasionally. As members of his immediate circle fluctuated, being stolen away to live with others or newcomers of runaways and outcasts, Jix's overall nervousness quelled in slight, but he continued to take to far corners, sleeping on the floor behind pieces of furniture and daydreaming in dark sequesters.

When he was old enough to manage, he was put to work. This was around age 13 (compare 6-7), and his brethren or the girls would find jobs for him carrying bundels and baskets of food (punished if he were to take a nibble - although the recipients typically didn't notice!), clothes, or other necessities, and eventually (years later) helping to move what little furniture may have existed and working alongside the older adults in nearby warehouses moving heavier trade goods, which helped him develop a practical, lean build.

Over time, as his immediate group fluctuated - members stolen to live with more cohesive family units or new additions from outcasts and runaways - he, among the older group of earlier arrivals who had never left, started to develop a few friendships that became very valuable to him. They were often nicer or more handy than the rest of his family, though none of them were girls, for at the time he was still frightened of them, even the ones who were nice. Among these friends was Kato, his best friend. Kato was bigger than he, softspoken and at once melancholic and optimistic, a thinker and a rarity among all of his family and the larger community around him. Associating with Kato during the later years of his life (up until around age 20) is what brought him out of his own shell. His nervousness and defensive measures began to turn to outward humor that kept him at once in a positive light and separated from his brethren. With time, his humor became sarcastic, cutting and shrewd, and this represents a massive change in his life. Here he begins to find entertainment in exerting this well-honed streetwise over others as mischief and pranks. This attitude of his tended to polarize the members of his community on their opinions about him and he became, if not the "talk of the town," at least a person of note (even if that note was "that kid is useless!"). Happy as he acted, this path he took continued to shove him farther inward, away from  his brothers and sisters, and eventually only Kato could get through to him at all.

His true nature arose whenever there was talk of the outside world, and the idea to leave the community to seek a more exciting life was borne of a frustrated conversation between he and Kato. It was one of Jix's outbursts and spontaneous decisions that led them to leaving that very day, but in truth it was an idea Kato had been bouncing between the two of them for years.

Near the age of 30, they left to explore the world, or what little pocket of it they could reach, and find some meaning to it all. Being boys of a simple rearing, it occurred to them to sell their services as warriors, and they joined up with a smaller company of mercenaries. Kato eventually developed an acuity with the shortsword and shield, relying on them more as extensions of his own size and muscle than learning complex fighting techniques. Jix did not settle on a focus for combat for a long time, and learned through observation and hard practice how to keep himself simply alive with mana manipulation, focusing on the mana shield. As time passed he settled with the spear for its propensity to keep him out of harm's way, but would still drop one at a whim to buy a different one, never keeping the same pole-weapon for long.

Jix was never as good a warrior as Kato, but he had often proved craftier, and when the time for payment had come he was the one who managed to coerce more out of their buyers, or he might offer strategic advice or immediately notice points of vulnerability in their targets. So Jix became somewhat of value to his company, but he and Kato had begun to diverge on their beliefs toward war and they would often argue, as Kato would try to convince Jix he had become concerned only with money and was becoming sometimes cruel. These altercations caused them to be ousted from two separate groups.

The third band they'd joined with had a worse reputation than the others, but by this time it was all they could sell themselves to because their bickering had become notorious in wayside taverns and Kato's emergent pacifism in the heat of battle was as noteworthy as his not-insignificant prowess. Yet this group would have been by far the most entertaining for the two of them if not for what was to occur shortly, for they found themselves travelling past Raveran to the surface to bask in the lush greens and blues so muted and scarce in the underground, meeting with more exotic peoples and battling stranger cultures than their own. It was exciting, and during one of these excursions when Jix procurred an altogether alien weapon that would become his unsubtle fascination for the rest of his life. They had hunted down the location of a primitive society for a fabled treasure it guarded, yet came back all but empty handed. The vicious handweapons they were using, however, appealed to Jix for reasons he could not explain, and he picked up a worn, bronze Khopesh and carried it back with him, his comrades unamused.

It had balance and versatility that appealed to him immensely, and he began to spar at close range to teach himself its use. The Khopesh, an almost hook-shaped sword, and a sly weapon, capable of being used for many different combat purposes. Its design opened up possibilities to our trickster, who had begun to see combat as a sort of boring practice where certain emergent strategies and tools always won the day - this very attitude being one of the things Kato took issue with, who  simply fought in order to make a living and did not care for the art or practice of combat.

Jix wielded it with an abandon that he'd never felt before, sometimes scaring his foes, and often worrying his friend - another manifestation of their divergent beliefs, as by now Jix had begun to at a whim abandon his familiar quips and sarcastic comments and make cold decisions. The new weapon didn't have anything to do with this, but his fascination with it was surely representative of this development to his character, one Kato had seen as long-coming. It was as if he had finally found a tool that had settled with him. He began to act as if he were part of the battle, and at times he could become a monster. At times when he was completely frustrated he would often, however, return to weapons with longer reach, having developed a greater proficiency with them, and his recent acquisition led him to finally settle on purchasing for himself a well-crafted bardiche, for the shape of its blade. It had a shorter handle that would make it less unwieldy with one who closed the gap. He alternated between these weapons purely at whim, just as he did everything else, but one could often tell what sort of mood he was in by what weapon he'd chosen to use. Notably, when using the Khopesh, he paid less attention to shielding himself with mana and focused more on the offensive.

Yet in spite of Kato's worry, he still thought the best of his lifelong friend. He'd been saving up for a long time without telling Jix and had finally decided what to spend it on. He had crafted for Jix a Khopesh of the finest steel he could afford by a high quality Drow crafter, with an accentuated hooked blunt tip that would give it better momentum and a surprising disarming quality, and a weighted spike on the hilt for balance and because he knew "it was just the type of thing that would
appeal to you." He presented it to his friend to make up for their differences, and had been planning to announce to Jix that he would be leaving the company, but he could not bring himself to do it, knowing that Jix had become too excited with his lifestyle.

And indeed, he did not want to leave. He enjoyed too much the adventures topside and exciting developments of his profession, and later never understood why Kato couldn't remain with them, particularly because in spite of all said and done, Jix was never a great fighter, only performing well when there were others to distract his foes - and in that way, Kato aided him, he an upright, stalwart warrior of possibly greater skill than anyone similarly aged in the company.

During their time with the company, Kato's pacifism had gained him an ill reputation, and he was often abused at the hands of the other warriors. Jix did not know the full extent of it, yet he knew that Kato was beginning to drag down their effectiveness. Exemplary in this was the last job Jix ever took with the company. They were hired to wipe out the last remnants of a dying lesser clan, children and all. Kato flat-out refused to do it, and in this refusal took the opportunity to inform Jix he did not like the look in his eyes anymore when he fought, and he believed there was something else going on behind those eyes than an admiration for combat. And in the altercation that followed, Jix killed his best friend.

Jix had been furious, and argued with him for days, finally involving the rest of the company. The other warriors made very dangerous threats to Kato, who would not back down, and refused to let Jix get involved as well. Jix then struck him, for the first time in over fifteen years, and Kato was utterly shocked. A few of the other warriors joined in on this and started pushing him, and Kato in his shock was unable to defend himself. He staggered under the attacks until he was backed into the  corner, staring at Jix the whole time, who did not defend him. Jix decided to try to be reasonable once more, as reasonable as he saw it, but he thinks there was something in his eyes that set Kato off as he approached. When the others had backed away, and Jix approached, Kato drew steel.

His attack was wild and sporadic, unlike anything Jix had ever seen. The khopesh was in his hands before he had had time to think and he drove his friend back into the corner from where he'd emerged, and then onto his backside. So hardened to battle now, so detached from the world, coy and snarky, a trickster, a warrior without his own sense of honor, so used to was he the quest for glory and money, all he could think of was this Drow impeding in his aims, and he struck once, and killed his best friend with the sword he'd had made for him, the khopesh driving into his neck and lodging itself into the muscle. It seemed this imprecise strike gave Kato enough time to realize what had happened before death took him.

Jix withdrew the weapon and his decades of hardening to the toils of being shown his own weakness took over. He struck once more to finish the job, and told his shocked comrades, "One less mouth to feed," walking away and showing no remorse.

Jix did not know it, but he could not stomach what he'd done. For a long time he thought he was right, and had begun to rationalize that Kato was on the verge of getting himself killed anyway. His life growing up had demonstrated to him, he believed, more thoroughly than anything else, that survival and success was dependent upon shows of force and violent defense. He helped the team finish the job Kato refused, and took the payment without a word.

His sense of humor disappeared more frequently during the long campaign over which this task took place. He began to withdraw from the group and the conclusion his warrior brothers and sisters drew was fairly easy: that he was losing steam and his love of life because of guilt. There was little they could do, for they'd wanted Kato gone long ago, and the death of a former comrade was not so alien to them that they considered it a tragedy; it was how the world worked. Jix demonstrated his
understanding of this as well, and by all outward appearances never admitted during this time his remorse.

One day, he just wandered away from his brethren while they slept, wearing his armor and his weapons, and nothing more. And he did not come back.

It had occurred to him to find out whatever Kato had wanted from the rest of the world - he never learned Kato was going to leave the company, but he knew he'd planned on retiring from the career to something else. He set out to find out what this was. He has since not been satisfied with any conclusions he's drawn. But this journey is what led him to begin to feel actual, acknowledged remorse at his deed. It was a small amount by this time, as he aged into his later 30s, and it did not stop him from growing bored with his soul-seeking.

His attempt to return to warrior life landed him finally among the larger clans, this in particular among one of the gangs of the Vloz'Ress led by a nether summoner. He concluded himself with their ilk as a form of resentment for himself, understanding the possibility that they might be even more messed up than he and feeling comfortable with this. He didn't feel as though his suffering was ever classic, and he had a deep-seated fear that he'd brought on much of it himself, to the point where he was having trouble relating with others. In this subhouse of Vloz'Ress he came to the conclusion that most people were like him in some small fashion, and his fear of their capabilities kept him healthily alive.

Jix's fear of women had been obviated by his time among sensible warriors with a respect for prowess over inborn features, but he cowed quickly to his new leader as he was taken in by the Vloz'ress subhouse. She was terrifying, or at least he was terrified of her, whether she was truly cruel or not. This, coupled with a growing anxiety over his past, seemed to allow his namesake tremors to return. But, Jix did not have time to reflect on whether it had been a mistake to seek refuge here, because he was immediately and shrewdly called out for his growing weaknesses. He was pressured to accept the tainting ceremony to help him get over them.

To Jix, it felt like rape.

When the being settled onto his aura, his strength, his fear and emotions, everything changed. But all he knew was that fear he felt right before it happened, as if it had been magnified by the otherworldly presence among him. He was unable to use his gift as was intended, and he fled. Jix fled, and his mistress sent hunters after him for a perceived betrayal. Yet, it wasn't long before they gave up the chase when the decision was made that he really wasn't that important to capture or kill.

Now Jix was truly alone, for he'd fled from everything. His family, then his friend, then his comrades, then his new family... but it had been so long since he'd left home... Jix attempted to return. He made the journey across Chel back to that one commoner district, not even knowing if anyone from his childhood was still alive. Nightmares of demon beasts and his dead friend coming alive for revenge haunted him the whole way, and he knew, though could not interact with and could not even understand, that presence that was with his aura, that had made itself to become as much a part of him as his hand... but a hated hand.

Find his family he did. Many familiar names had indeed survived, much to his relief. And first, they hailed his coming. Yet, they saw his tainted eyes. And they asked what had happened to Kato. They stared into his red eyes, and he could not make himself lie to them, but could not tell them the truth. Yet therein they saw it.

Those who remembered the two of them were utterly horrified. They ostracized him, and told him they would kill him if he tried to live with them again.

Jix's final veneer of denial and rationalization over what he'd done shattered like a fragile glass statuette struck with a hammer, or more appropriately stomped on with a hard boot. He fell to the ground and screamed his lungs out, screamed until he passed out. When he awoke, he was dying.

Specifically, he was being killed. He'd been dragged by unknowns to a remote corner to be looted, abused, and killed for his flesh. What they were doing to him was largely unimportant to him. When his eyelids fluttered open all that was on his mind was his dead best friend, and he was to grab for the gifted Khopesh as if it was a security blanket and found it was not there. Looking around, he saw it had been taken from him, along with his armor and his bardiche, and he was naked and defenseless, and when he shoved himself up, forcing his assailants away from him, his right arm hung limp and numb, his shoulder dislocated, and his feet were tied. There were four of them, one of them a woman.

Jix's voice was hoarse from his screaming, and he rasped threats they could not hear. They laughed at his weakness.

Jix dove forward at one of them, twisting himself to attack one in particular and not the nearest as may have been expected, tossing himself on top of him and throwing him to the ground with his weight. He snatched a dagger from its sheath on the man's belt, shoved it into his stomach, and let him flop away in screeching pain. The attention of some of the locals was drawn, and the other two men got a glimpse of Jix's eyes in the dim light of the Chelian street's glowing gems. They fled, but the woman stayed. People began to draw around them, watching. None of Jix's family were present.

The woman, larger, stronger, and more intimidating than he, drew a dagger from somewhere on her person and readied to kill him.

Jix did not even think of freeing himself. All he knew was his anxiety, and it had been what was on his mind upon awakening. One phrase rang out through his mind, over and over. [i]Kill me![/i] he roared to himself, a challenge to the woman. He did not even think about the possibility of his seed overtaking him. He wanted to die, completely and utterly. It was his primary concern, and he let her stab him.

But it was his arm she stabbed. She'd been expecting him to defend himself and she made a disabling strike. He reared in pain, but it was not what he wanted. He lunged forward with the only weapon he had left, and bit her. His tainting had numbed his pain just enough, enhanced his berserk adrenaline just enough. He severed her carotid with his teeth, and she bled out atop him. His rage subsided, and he passed out again, naked, entwined with two writhing, dying bodies.

Jix awoke again, pressed between two warm, heavy weights and covered in a thick fluid over his cold, naked body. Shallow, ragged breaths were being drawn beneath him, and in the dimness he could see the man had still not died. He had no idea how much or how little time had passed. He couldn't shove the woman off of him, as both his arms were disabled. He had to wriggle out from between them, his right arm flopping excruciatingly and his left numb with the wound. When he was free, he was able to work it mobile again. He clothed his blood-slick body in a process that took hours, and did his best to cloak his injuries. He had given his Khopesh up for stolen, when he remembered the reason he attacked the Drowolath he did. Beneath the pile of bodies lay the sickle-sword, as he'd planned on doing what he could to save it, though had no idea it would be protected
in such a way.

The bardiche and the mail were gone, and as he shambled his way up the streets and back into what little life he could salvage, he was never able to afford weapon or armor so good again for years. Possessing of no healing magic, he did what he could to properly manipulate his shoulder, but the wound in his left arm and the extreme pain in both arms from the attempt ended with a sloppy job. To this day, his right shoulder is a weakness and he does what he can to exercise it properly.

He reflected on how he was able to survive. He was no stronger than he ever was. But his personal store of energy seemed to have improved. He seemed... more capable. Against mere commoners, he was a monster. He did not know how he would fare against warriors. But he had survived, and it made him confident; confident in his seed, and comfortable with it, and confident in who he had become. He saw before him a path to take, and set his jaw to take it. On his return journey to Vloz'ress, his tremors were once again gone. Any altercations he got into were settled quickly, sometimes in blood and sometimes with confident and amusing quips. And he referred to himself as "Kato'Jix." He began, too, to see suffering as something entirely self-caused, drawing on his own experiences. He lost all sympathy for those who suffered, and this helped him become more sarcastic and devious.

Kato'Jix had taken his friend's name upon his own, to preserve his memory and his honor. He returned to Vloz'ress, and someone he'd met the first time he was among this clan recognized him and protected him from their barbs as he insinuated himself back among them. Liirdria, a massive tank of a woman, and he, latched onto each other as siblings, and in this blood-torn world, as of right now she's all he has. She is also the only one among them other than his lost mercenary comrades who knows his past.

[b]Appearance:[/b]
Short and thin and of fluctuating muscle. He has infrequent fascinations with health that lead him to rarely exercise past his normal bodytype, and so sometimes he stands taller than is typical. A thin nose and a long, gaunt face with scraggily red-dyed sideburns and red eyes that were once green. His hair is out of control, red for several inches where it was dyed upon entry into Vloz'ress and white the rest of the way. He keeps it tyed back and covers his head with a leather sallet when entering into combat to keep it from being a liability.

His face has a disfiguring scar on the cheek that mangles his smile. He walks with a limp when stressed, for though his legs function normally, he compensates subconsciously for his weakened shoulder by keeping it hung lower, and this has affected his entire gait. Fond of the color purple.