Martell
Martell
Death is art. My blade the brush and the criminal my canvas. Commissioned by the state, I create beauty for the gallery. Most people look at what I do with fear and disgust, yet they revel in my performance every chance they get. If you hone your skills well, my son, they will come from all over the kingdom to see you.-Martell's Father
Mental characteristics
Personal history
The local cobbler stands guilty of theft, back straight and tears in his eyes. He is bent awkwardly over the solid wood block and tied down to prevent movement. Leave no slack in the rope son, for even though he has been instructed remain still to guarantee a clean blow, you can't trust the actions of a man with nothing left to lose. The axe cuts cleanly through all resistance; air, flesh and bone. Amongst the roar of the crowd, the thudding of the axe and the rolling of the head you hear the man's last lament. "Jessamyn!" You know this to be the name of his only child, the child he was just trying to feed when he stole the baker's bread. You feel sorry for the man for you know what it is to go hungry. You know you would do anything to get your family through the cold, hard winters. You know you have considered doing worse than what landed him in front you of today. His pain is your pain, his death a release from your sins. When you understand this, you understand the art of death.
The day He became my father's latest work is the day I broke my father's heart. The details of His crimes are unimportant but His death changed me forever. As His body lay limp in front of my father's largest crowd to date, I felt nothing. He was not a man. His eyes reflected nothing redeemable. He was pure evil masquerading as a mortal. Was He a beast? A demon? I knew not what His true form was but I knew if there were more of Him in the world I needed to eliminate them all. There was no beauty in His death, just necessity.
I spoke with my father that night. He begged, pleaded and bargained for me to stay and continue his legacy. Eventually he accepted that I had found a higher calling. In a cruel irony that only the Gods could conjure, my father was the one left standing, straight back and tears in his eyes, watching as his life left him. Mercifully there were no crowds to witness this execution.
The day He became my father's latest work is the day I broke my father's heart. The details of His crimes are unimportant but His death changed me forever. As His body lay limp in front of my father's largest crowd to date, I felt nothing. He was not a man. His eyes reflected nothing redeemable. He was pure evil masquerading as a mortal. Was He a beast? A demon? I knew not what His true form was but I knew if there were more of Him in the world I needed to eliminate them all. There was no beauty in His death, just necessity.
I spoke with my father that night. He begged, pleaded and bargained for me to stay and continue his legacy. Eventually he accepted that I had found a higher calling. In a cruel irony that only the Gods could conjure, my father was the one left standing, straight back and tears in his eyes, watching as his life left him. Mercifully there were no crowds to witness this execution.
Accomplishments & Achievements
Titan of Tantos
Current Location
Species
Birthplace
Wilford
Children
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