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| Japheth, Silsila of Alamut |
| The deserts of Israel were not to the liking of Japheth. He hardly enjoyed the blistering sun, nor the frozen nights. The sight of Crusaders defiling the sacred land wasn't enjoyable either. They lived in their cities, kept cool while the burning sun was up and kept warm at night. And he in his tent. Born pale skinned, his mother chose the name Japheth for him. The eldest son of Noah, it was said that his descendents lived in Asia Minor, Russia, and Europe. For all who believed in predestination from naming, Japheth the younger was a prime example. His childhood wasn't the most interesting. Tending animals never is. But he longed for more, as so many children do. As a young teenager, he took up teaching under one of the other travelers, little more than gypsies under the rule of Christianity, and learned to pick pockets and slit purses. Farming in a rural country provides little entertainment, and so it was that he gained practice. First he began on simple tasks, hanging bags and purses on trees, and then animals. Finally, he worked on the Crusaders. His family never questioned the sudden influx of wealth, nor did they question the rapid rate at which Japheth seemed to desire its liquidation. He was also an avid scholar of the Torah, talking for hours with the Rabbi about it. He formulated his own theories, and rapidly created his own justifications and arguments about the laws set down by G-d. It came as no surprise to him when the Rabbi introduced the concept of the Qaballah. But despite his scholarly bend, Japheth never took to the magical aspect. No matter how devout he was, he didn't carry the spark inside of him to open that flood-gate. His family was heartbroken the day he got caught. He thought of it merely as G-d's will. His hand had been in the purse of some petty soldier, and the barking of a dog had been his downfall. Quick violence had ensued, and he had been quickly beaten. Imprisonment followed. The holding cell was dark. They all were. And smelled of the bitter and acrid reek of urine. The rats that infested the place were troublesome, destroying the peace between the wails and shrieks of the other prisoners. Japheth did not reward his captors with such sounds. Not until the whipping began. He fought tooth and nail when his cell was invaded, struggling against those who held him imprisoned. When the Crusaders, cruel as they were, defiled him, it wasn't willingly. And so he prayed that G-d would forgive him. Even when he feigned weakness and compliance, he held in his heart a bitter seed of resentment, and a desire for revenge. The favored of several of the soldiers, perhaps for his feisty attitude, he was spared some of the worst torments the prison had to offer. But he was packed as part of the cargo when the Knights returned to England, relieved of duty by a fresh unit. Living as a slave amid those he hated so much, it had been a simple matter to poison them. And leaving them sick, he fled into the country of England, staying in inns when he could afford, hiding in haystacks and barns when he couldn't. He scratched out a meager existence stealing in the streets of England's rural towns, and mastered more martial arts. Combining the stealth he had learned with the fluid movements he made with his dagger, he rarely left any witnesses to his theft behind. The town of Chester offered him a new start, a home to live in, and money with which to do it. Tired of eeking out a day by day living, he found his way there simply enough. The back of a wagon and he was never noticed. The only touch of home he maintained was the head scarf, which he often used to hide his face from prying eyes. Now a young adult, he was in Chester seeking work, and as yet unknown. Living off the coins in his pocket, and scullerywork, few remembered him. Here, his pale skin was not a detriment, but an asset, helping him to blend in to the fair English. And his accent was quickly overcome by the more pronounced and strong one here. He maintained his religious practices in secret, and took up working as a messenger for Joseph, a traveler he met in the Hidden Dragon pub. |