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| Born Andrew Vietch to the modern world, his was rather a Cinderella story - though in the more... Brothers Grimm variety. The progeny of a one night blissful encounter to satiate his father's rather sordid needs, he was born March 12, 1969. His fathers habits were well known, but when they actually resulted in offspring... it was hard to tell whether his father was shocked that the boy was indeed his, or that it was brought to his attention to care for. As all Ailil go, Samuel Vietch, the Lord Samor ap Ailil, saw this as a potential tool, and thus accepted responsibility for his bastard son. And as he viewed him as only a tool, and nothing more, the boy was treated as no more by a common slave, both by his family and by his father's friends. It made sense to him growing up, always made sense. After all, he was lower than them, a commoner in all senses of the word. Why should he not? Even as he grew up as a child, he understood the purposes for it. Occasionally, after a sound beating, he would lose his temper and yell back. Those were the times he dreaded most, as he would be locked in a closet for sometimes days at a time. The only time one would hear a peep from the stoic boy, screaming, trying to claw his way out. Never good with enclosed spaces for some unknown reason. It would usually end with him dissolving into sobbing, begging to be let out, pleading that he would be good from now on. The vicious cycle repeated as he passed puberty without a single result of such. Still viewed as a thing, personal property. Nothing more than a tool. Until one day, everything changed... |
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After years of endless suffering and simply tolerating, something inside him snapped. The power was incredible, the feeling overwhelming. How had he not noticed it before? His father sensed it... every Kithain in the area sensed it. The power of a newly awakened soul. His father was the first to get there. And for once... he felt more powerful than his father. Something vicious inside him snapped. And with a single leap and a fireplace poker, he viciously gutted him without another word. By the time the guards got there, there was nothing... and the seventeen year old was being held down by another Ailil Lord, his blooded mouth (for he'd been gnawing on his father's entrails when the Lord got there) stifled by the thick leather glove. Hidden by a cantrip, as the guards looked over the eviscerated body. As soon as they left, he was introduced to the Lord. Aolenthyr ap Ailil, the Lord of the Barony of The Greening Winter. Without really telling anyone who he was, he took the boy under his wing, and trained him - not pushing him away from the violence, teaching him how to release it more properly. And as any tool that is well used, that has talent ... he was pleased to use it as much as possible. The boy grew talented in the slaying, and it did not click that the Lord was using him to destroy his enemies, those that were between him and his goals. Really, the only thing he thought of was how good it felt. How warm the blood was, how powerful it made him feel to overthrow others with little to no effect. Of course, there was banality, but what did he care about that? Chaos was in his hand. And it was being given to him by a Lord that approved. His Saining was held, his name given him, and immediately his House was presented to him. And lest he question his Oath, attempt to weasel his way out of it and Unweave his purpose forever, his back was seared with Cold Iron. Scars as a reminder of what pain they could do to him should he renege, a worse threat than what the Dreaming would do to him, as his chaotic mind bore so little fear of it.
But as all villains must - his Lord was caught. Slain in the Dreaming by Cold Iron as a result, the young one stole the Lord's cloak which gave him the ability to hide. Combined with his ability for speed, he ran and hid for quite a few years. Covered with blood and frought with nightmares and memories, he realized he could not hide forever. Under his current name, he re-entered Fae society. Using his father's name in a mockery which only he would understand. As a bastard son, he was not called his name, and most likely not listed in his father's histories. Fighting his way up the ladder, and calling in favours from several different sources, he managed to earn himself a Barony in the Kingdom of Smoke. Commanding an army to defeat the Dauntain that plagued the area, he claimed his rightful place as the ruler of the Barony of The Greening Winter. |
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It wasn't until he was noted by the Shadow Court that he truly gained real power. Raw, and beyond the imagination of the lesser Fae. Through the business he had slowly been overthrowing - an assassinry business that he viewed as shoddy and cheap, but saw potential in - he was noted by the Monkey's Paw, both in his skill at command and at the disappearing enemies he had. Through his Mentor's mistakes, he had learned subtlety. But when the Court responded to his talent, he could not help but sink into the intrigue. Before he knew it, he was deeply involved with several associates of the Court, but has to this day never earned true Rank among them. He set the Barony on a self-sufficient mode, and comes back twice a year to inspect ranks and to destroy any traitors personally painfully and violently. Keeping it assured that anyone ever having doubts about his weakness is reminded.
Currently, he lives in a small town south in Kansas, in a non disclosed position. His life is simple - he goes to Court in the Kingdom of Smoke to holds his position clear, and sometimes he will manage to make others simply look bad. It is all part of the game, really. As well as responding to Ailil Court, he will often respond to the Shadow Court as well. He views them both as useful tools to his purpose, in order to eventually overthrow all of the Dreaming. |
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