Hunting Entropy
Posted: Sat Jan 21, 2017 12:00 am
"They call us the Takers. But we do not take, we earn." - Duke Rowan Darkwood
Ranking up in the Fated is no easy task. Many a cutter try to achieve it, forgetting that nearly all of his peers are trying to do just the same. This makes earning the both their respect and their loyalty a hard thing to do indeed. The stories of how Duke Rowan himself went from being an unaffiliated sod to the Factol of the Fated make a lot of clueless berks who enter the Hall of Records believe they will do the very same thing, unaware that they are just being thrown to the wolves.
Even among Namers, one berk will try to outdo the other to prove their mettle and resourcefulness. Both to their peers and their superiors so they stand out from the rest of the crowd as more than any another basher. Often, the sorry sods bite off more than they can chew and either end up shackled before the Fraternity of Order, or penned in the deadbook. The dangers within the faction leave some opting to just take a safer approach and perform their duties as tax notaries and hired henchmen for merchants. Doing your job can be rewarding.
But who is to say that reward is respect?
To be a Fated Factotum is to be a canny blood who has earned the respect of those who would take their place. Often, it means a display of superiority so decisive that it makes the Namers instinctively understand their place in the food chain and do what they are told.
And Karsperus Blake intends to do just that.
Who was he? Karsperus was a basher that had been around for a good while now, yet for the most part he had kept a low profile. Either doing paperwork within the Hall of Records itself, or taking small time jobs from both planeswalkers and merchants who needed a sharp blade. Nothing of too much note, just another basher in a sea of bashers.
So why talk about him now? The Dark is he had been biding his time to make his name known, both to possible allies and rivals, while looking for a way to make that decisive statement that showed he was not cut from the same cloth as the average berk.
Word has it the barmy sod has decided to hunt down an Entrope. Don't know what it is? Most sods don't. But a couple of the Greybeards in Duke Rowan's Academy were talking about it. Supposedly, a giant worm that borrows through the boundries of the elemental planes. Dark is the Doomguard created them to help bring the end of the 'verse by jumbling all the elements in the inner planes together and destroy those boundries or somesuch. Thing is, most cutters don't know if they even exist at all! The average blood will think you're barmy if you even think about hunting one down.
But there's one thing everyone agrees with. If the Entropes are real, then the sod who brings back the carcass of one is at least worthy of respect.
Ranking up in the Fated is no easy task. Many a cutter try to achieve it, forgetting that nearly all of his peers are trying to do just the same. This makes earning the both their respect and their loyalty a hard thing to do indeed. The stories of how Duke Rowan himself went from being an unaffiliated sod to the Factol of the Fated make a lot of clueless berks who enter the Hall of Records believe they will do the very same thing, unaware that they are just being thrown to the wolves.
Even among Namers, one berk will try to outdo the other to prove their mettle and resourcefulness. Both to their peers and their superiors so they stand out from the rest of the crowd as more than any another basher. Often, the sorry sods bite off more than they can chew and either end up shackled before the Fraternity of Order, or penned in the deadbook. The dangers within the faction leave some opting to just take a safer approach and perform their duties as tax notaries and hired henchmen for merchants. Doing your job can be rewarding.
But who is to say that reward is respect?
To be a Fated Factotum is to be a canny blood who has earned the respect of those who would take their place. Often, it means a display of superiority so decisive that it makes the Namers instinctively understand their place in the food chain and do what they are told.
And Karsperus Blake intends to do just that.
Who was he? Karsperus was a basher that had been around for a good while now, yet for the most part he had kept a low profile. Either doing paperwork within the Hall of Records itself, or taking small time jobs from both planeswalkers and merchants who needed a sharp blade. Nothing of too much note, just another basher in a sea of bashers.
So why talk about him now? The Dark is he had been biding his time to make his name known, both to possible allies and rivals, while looking for a way to make that decisive statement that showed he was not cut from the same cloth as the average berk.
Word has it the barmy sod has decided to hunt down an Entrope. Don't know what it is? Most sods don't. But a couple of the Greybeards in Duke Rowan's Academy were talking about it. Supposedly, a giant worm that borrows through the boundries of the elemental planes. Dark is the Doomguard created them to help bring the end of the 'verse by jumbling all the elements in the inner planes together and destroy those boundries or somesuch. Thing is, most cutters don't know if they even exist at all! The average blood will think you're barmy if you even think about hunting one down.
But there's one thing everyone agrees with. If the Entropes are real, then the sod who brings back the carcass of one is at least worthy of respect.