Vice Valentine

Born into an aristocratic family, Vice was distinguished by his black and white hair and his striking eyes; his right eye was blood red, and the left was golden yellow. He was brought up disciplined, learning things like sword fighting, negotiating, and etiquette. While not royalty, his family was of higher status than commonfolk, meaning his family was known and was a target of a great many things. A few days after his 17th birthday, when walking home he noticed his home was up in flames and a group of men were leaving the scene. Before going to see if he could find any survivors the men caught sight of him and gave chase. Vice ran into the fridged mountains to escape; the group decided not to continue chasing, figuring he’d die in the cold.Vice made his way to some ruins as some cover from the cold. Out of breath, lungs burning and freezing he looked at the walls, through drawers and boxes left behind. After finding written diaries about life here and incantations he learned that this was the very place the Garleans’ forebears were pushed to by invaders. Keeping warm by a fire, he read the letters written by those who sought the power to get revenge on the invaders that ran them from their homes; they were granted power by the void. He set the journals down and curled up by the fire, closing his eyes. Upon waking, he went to the top of the ruins. Looking out over the horizon to the rising sun, he sat down on the ledge.“What am I going to do...” He asked the wind, as if expecting an answer. “My family is gone. I couldn’t even avenge them; I ran away scared.” He said, punching the stone he was sitting on. He stood up, looking down at the ground beneath him. He took a breath in and prepared to jump... but he couldn’t do it. Something stopped him. He let out a scream. The wall next to him was the target of his rage before he fell to his knees, tears falling into the snow. “Don’t even have the balls to jump. Pathetic...” He said, heaving a heavy sigh. He stood up and explored the ruins some more.He looked around and came across a skeleton that was holding a scythe in its hands. Staring at the skeleton, he sat in front of it. “Looks like you couldn’t move, either.” He said, speaking to the scythe wielding skeleton. “Am I destined to become like you?” Vice asked, expecting an answer. In the silence his mind flashed to the diaries and letters filled with the ritualistic ways these farmers fought back; establishing a link with the void. “No,” he said, “No. Even if I die trying, I will get my revenge.” He said, standing up and he grabbed the scythe. “I’m sorry, but I need this.” Vice said, bowing his head in respect and as if it was alive, the hands fell away, and Vice held the scythe.Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Mastering the art of fighting with a scythe, Vice trained for 3 years, but he still wasn’t able to connect with an avatar from the Void. Now 20 he decided to go back to his hometown and hunt those that killed his family. One by one he brought his own form of justice to those that wronged him until he was met with the final one, the face of the man that told the others to chase him. Though, he was stronger than his lackies, Vice was beaten back to the point he was being held at the tip of the blade this man had pointed at him.Before the blade struck, time seemed to slow down around Vice when suddenly a voice “Looks like you’re in a pinch. Do you need help?” The voice sounded far away.“Who are you...?” Vice asked.“You’re about to die, doesn’t seem like that matters.” The voice replied. “Shall we form a contract?” The voice asked once more. Vice looked at the blade about to strike him, and he swallowed.“Yes. Let’s form a contract.” Vice agreed and suddenly time returned to normal as a giant black claw ripped off the man's arm, causing him to fall over. Through the screaming Vice rose from the ground and grabbed the scythe; it opened.“Souls. I need souls.” The voice spoke only to Vice.“Then that’s what you’ll get.” Vice said, raising the scythe, bringing it down on the man. When the deed was done, he walked to the burnt ruins of his home looking at the charred remains of the one place he called home. “Who are you?” Vice asked no one, but the voice replied.“I’m you.” It said, and Vice turned and left.The years went by, Vice learned more about the Avatar he’s summoned through research and asking around, mostly the Scions of the Seventh Dawn who revealed that the Avatar was indeed Vice, but the Vice of the 13th who found him. Since his revenge he has taken up being a blade for hire and helping numerous Warriors of Light when called, though others call him a Warrior of Light, he denies it saying; “No Warrior of Light would do what I’ve done.”Now he lives as a blade for hire, answering the call of the light if it ever reached him.