The Blood Guard


 * Class: Rogue
 * Electissimus: Rendri Tarin'dor
 * Uniform: Unavailable

In the Beginning
“Derien, perhaps it is time to rest.”

Only another grunt escaped the young man; his fiery, orange hair burnt brightly and contrasted immediately within the subtle shift of hue by the sweat that coated over several of the strands which strayed from their styling. His latex-coated digits gripped tightly unto the pommel of each dagger, the prominent edges of either weapon being brought against what was recognised as the flesh of the dummies. Several tears had already been made there, the stitching of the material becoming looser with every turn of the wicked blade at the surface.

Forte stood by silently; as opposed to the grimace that had made itself normality on his countenance, here was an impassive line that returned to curl upward or downwards. He reached out, several of his fingers splayed in an attempt to clasp his brother’s arm. The motion was met by a violent jerk; Derien continued on with his combat, fel-flared eyes glazed with the heat of imaginary battle. The Templar allowed a soft sigh to escape him at that. His brother was truly lost. '''“You’ve been here for hours, Derien. Don’t you believe it’s time for a break? Father is worried sick; you know with his condition, this shall only worsen it!”''' His voice had begun to rise, that paladin’s; it was no surprise that to such, Derien reacted in kind, acknowledging the statements with a curt nod of his each. Each extremity bulged against his leathers that had been carved against the slim canvas; his hallowed countenance had all the symptoms of gradual hardening. “The old man’s time was long ago – the Clergymen only prolong the inevitable, brother.” A quick slash of the blade at the centre of the dummy; sand began to pour from the wound, pooling at the centre of the stake that held the entire construct together.

“Then why do you spend time here, wasting away with these damned things?” Forte’s voice lightened due to the newly-presented willingness that his counterpart had, in terms of discussion. He moved an arm; gesturing vaguely amidst the campus, nearest to Falconwing Square, where the various tools for lesser recruits had long since been abandoned. The night’s dominance prevailed, indeed; with the stars, a sick reminder of their ancestry, reigning above the exiled, still.

“Because I’ve discovered what is truly beneath the surface of a combatant—“ Derien’s statement was immediately cut short by a wrong twist within his movements, causing the fragile bone against his wrist to twist and collide with one another in a painful sting of sprained muscle. He did not give a second thought; but did halt, if only to retrieve his dagger, which had fallen following such.''' “I’ve taken to my mentality what truly makes a successful warrior, Forte. Manipulation of the target; mental instability and unrest. Anxiousness. Fear. A vendetta beneath the surface of the fighter; a lust to gain dominance over the target itself!”''' Forte’s face was visibly disturbed by such; as a pious man who had devoted his life entirely to honourable tactic, this was an unknown ideal.

Derien turned immediately to his brother; an agile frame sculpted by the months of training he had taken upon himself, a hallowed visage and bright, violently-shaded hair that contrasted immediately against the Templar’s sable own… the only distinctness was within their physical features that concerned the face.''' “It is within such that we found power; for eternal power Is what is worth fighting for. Revenge – vengeance, these are the epitome of what drives a true murderer, Forte!” the words themselves were now produced by partially agape lips, but clenched teeth that accompanied them. “That is what makes… why, that’s what makes…”''' Derien paused within his lecture for only a brief moment, taking note to how his brother allowed a light-hearted laugh to escape him, as if to make a mockery of the entire situation itself. He watched as he turned wholly away; disappearing into the night, elsewhere within the crumbling structure that was to undergo further renovation. It was only then that his cerulean eyes cast a rather hateful look to the man he once saw as a blood brother himself. The Quel’dorei glanced to his blade; the surface of the weaponry coaxed to a high gloss, to the extent where his reflection was easily made out. Each eye bore into the unfamiliar face which appeared in the make-shift mirror.

“… That’s what makes an Incubus.”

The Regiment
Founded by Derien D’lanastion during the reign of Tacitus the second, the Incubi originated as a select group of members within the monarchy that were immediately employed into The Bloodsworn so that their capabilities could suit a particular trade; considering most of the men’s intense hatred, brutality and unwillingness to oblige to most perspectives, they were molded today by what the Praetor, and D’lanastion monarchy itself acknowledge as an “Incubus”. Later, many would evolve into a Marshal, of sorts, now enlisted within the Praetorian Arrow.

The Incubi, employed within the Blood Guard of The Bloodsworn are the ruthless, manipulative beings that have been brought from a negative light to practical reverence throughout the organisation as an entirety. Acting upon the moral code of “Honour Among Thieves”, carrying orders from assassination to toxicology classes, the Incubi act as the ears and eyes of the regiment itself. Beneath the command of the Arch-Spymaster, they are primarily in-tune with the Praetorian Arrow, serving as self-styled conquerors for new territory, and sabotages of campaigns on either faction’s side. Well-versed within the art of poisons, combat, readiness and intelligence-gaining, the Incubi of the Blood Guard are the most excelled melee in terms of capability and virtue.

- Arch-Spymaster / Arch-Spymistress
The Arch-Spymaster holds immediate authority over every member of the division as a whole; acting upon solely the orders of the Praetor, his will is that which cannot be overshadowed, save by whom was previously named. TITLE: Arch-Spymaster – Arch-Spymistress

- Arch-Fiend
The Arch-Fiend of the Blood Guard is the secondary within command of the division itself; acting upon the orders of the Arch-Spymaster or Spymistress, as well as the Praetor, they are typically those that act as masters of their specialisation; the arts of Toxicology and combat are not unknown whatsoever to those that obtain this rank. TITLE: Spymaster – Spymistress

- Spectre
The Spectre of the Blood Guard is the third-highest rank achievable by any Incubus; requirements for this rank are that the member be well-versed within their trade, alas, not high enough to obtain a rather substantial rank aside from such. They are those that typically are the best apprentices of the Arch-Fiends.

- Vapor
The Vapor; a rank which is achieved simply by devoting themselves to the cause of the Blood Guard to the fullest extent, and undergoing trial in order to do so

- Incubus
The Incubus is the most standard rank; it is a practical rank of “Trial”, given to alts, or rogues that have not yet proven themselves capable of beginning their journey through the ranks.