Awakening

There it was again, that scratching feeling in my eyes. Opening them is worse. I close them again and wipe a hand across my face. Shards of rubble fall from my skin, I rub my fingertips together, it does not crumble.  Concrete. I drop my hand to my side and feel around me, a few books, some parchment, and large blocks of rock. I remember now, the lower catacombs of the tower where I was studying? Had I misfired that badly? Drawing in a slow breath I cast the spell that would teleport me back to the Church of Destruction.  Nothing Happened. Clasping the insignia I wore I used the magical telepathic link to speak to my brethren, before I had finished, my words had died off, there was no point, the link did not work.  The church was gone. It was time to determine who was left, who was in control, and just what exactly had happened.  But first, to rub this crap out of my eyes!

To be continued.

an Introduction to Ignis

Hello. My name is Ignis Montoya and I send you my greetings. I am a swordsman, and many titles I may bear, but none are as important as one of lineage, Son of Inigo Montoya. He was a great man, and a great swordsman. When his father was killed he had sworn revenge and trained 30 years before finally achieving vengeance. Fate, it seems, has a sense of irony. He was slain by a strange man. Bearing a tattoo with some numerals on it, he bore a long, narrow blade, over two meters in length. Their fight however was not a proper duel; the man in black had simply approached and drawn his blade, or so the witnesses have said. Now it is my turn to seek retribution. Travelling with a band outlaws called the Midnight Brigade, I have been honing my bladecraft, dueling against many foes. The Midnight Brigade taught me an ethos, one that promotes being both a demon and an angel, monster and hero. I am no longer bound by constraints nor morals of others. With the Midnight Brigade, I have also found a new art, the art of assassination. Some victims, those of minor importance, minor pawns in the scheme of all things are granted a swift, painless death. For those who have more to fault, I grant them slow, excruciating deaths. I have had much practice in this art. However, my blade, wrought by my grandfather Domingo Montoya, is far to keen for this art, so I have sourced many other tools. Poisons, enchanted weapons of the Black kind, and some drow trifles have entered my possession. Now, I have found a new home full of fellow practicioners in the Order of the Long Death. Perhaps I will be resigned to a 10 year hunt like my father before me, but as time progresses my art will only be deadlier.

Ignis Montoya
Duelist, Assassin, Sadist