Dante Follia [WiP]

Fighting Style: (How does your character fight? Focus on speed, power, ranged attacks, traps? I want you to elaborate on it though, don't just write speed and think you are done. I want at least a short paragraph.)

Background: [Spoiler=Human Life] Misfortune. It rules Dante’s entire life. From the very beginning he was destined to fail. Time was against him. His fate was already decided. Death and failure was all that awaited him in life. Not really in that order either. Being born nearly 250 years ago, Dante was born into “The Athens of Middle Ages.” The country was in turmoil. If it wasn’t religious was, it was corruption in the government. Dante happened to be on the losing team.

His family were servants. His parents worked in the Royal Palace, under rule of the Medici Family. A corrupt, power hungry group of leaders. They wanted war, money, and power. They tore the country in two in search for it as well. The killed their own people, violated their own laws, broke their own vows. The Follia were yet loyal to them however. Primarily because the had to be. If they attempted to choose sides among this war, they would have been executed.

Much of Dante’s life is simple. He grew as a young boy, eventually becoming a younger man. He faced a great deal of agony through out childhood. The Vatican was ruthless in their strike against other religions. They would accept no one of any descent but Catholic. They were after all the head of the Catholic Church. The Pope himself resided within the accursed walls. Hiding behind his image of a god.

Holy? What was it to be Holy? It was nothing. Meaningless in life. Think what you will, but that god doesn’t exist in the real world. There is no savior. No hope, no light at the end of the tunnel. You live and die. Meanwhile you hope to further yourself in many ways, from pleasure to status, that was the game. Who could hold the most pieces? Who could lie the best?

Dante felt none of it. It was all meaningless. His parents were rebellious. They believed that which made them impure and because of that they were killed. Without remorse, they were slaughtered before Dante’s eyes. And along with them came a message. “Choose your side in this war wisely…” … Who were they to tell him what to do. They were nothing more then a corruption of man. Their time had come and gone.

Dante was left to survive on his own. In the slums of Florence, he was abandoned. With no hope for a future many years passed. During that time, it was all he could do to survive. To eat. To sleep. To live. If he gave in he would surely have died and his death would have gone unnoticed. No one cared for him, no one even knew he existed.

He was 15 and had no family. No life. Nothing. Why? Because of those greedy whores, that he swore to end, no matter the cost. Dante was a smudge of the Earth because his family believed something other then they. And it was now his time to rise. He would take up arms in order to end this corrupt world. He swore upon it. Even if it meant death, he would kill every last one of them.

“Run, Dante, Run!”

This dream. The same, every night, it burned its way into his head. It was that night. Five men, all dressed in crimson red robes broke through the door. Each wielding a single handed sword. The front man had a hood covering his thrashed face. Though it didn’t conceal the scratches across his face. The symbolic face of the devil, as far as Dante was concerned. The men all separated and searched a room. The house was vast, paid for by years of work.

Dante was just a child, yet sleeping in his parents bed. He knew nothing of the night before he was awoken by the screams of his mother. “Run, Dante, Run!” The same thing, again, and again. Her lungs seemed to collapse after several times. They were the last words she uttered before the blade ruptured into her chest. It tore the words from her mouth and replaced them with gagging and sobs. Dante, yet a boy, was scared for his life. His father had already been dealt with, he rested on the floor next to his mother.

What would they do?! He cried out and the men all ignored him. Instead they placed the blades within the blood cloak that covered them. Then he stepped forward. The Devil. The man who took his family from him. The seeming leader of the group. His only words, “Choose your side in this war wisely…” Again and again the words echoed. They frightened boy buried his head in his knees and covered his ears.

When he came too again it was over. The men had gone and his parents bodies lay next to him. He couldn’t move. He was scared nearly to death. The sight of those men, it ate at him. Even now, eleven years later, that man was all he could picture. The scarred face. The demonic presence. The inhumane ethics. How could any one do such a thing? What had they done wrong? Nothing.

Dante woke for years in the same manner. Screaming. The nightmare becoming too much with each day that passed. It was time to take action. He couldn’t ignore the need anymore. He needed blood. He needed revenge. He needed time. He would fend for himself day and night against other kids near his age, fighting in the streets, brawling with twenty other people. He needed to survive, he needed to grow. He needed strength and an means to and end. This was his fate.

“Hey, boy, what’s your name?” The voice was dark, gloomy, nearly death like.

“Dante, sir.”

“Well Dante, you look tired.” The man finally showed himself. He wore a green robe, hooded and all. A large glint of silver could be seen hanging from the bottom. A blade. Perhaps, Dante thought, this was his chance. His chance at revenge. Perhaps he could use this man. Perhaps this man… would use him. It didn’t matter. It was this, or nothing. The choice was obvious.

Dante rose to his feet and looked up to the man who was sitting atop a rather large black horse. The man held his hand out and Dante graciously took it. He was tired indeed. It was only minutes before Dante was passed out atop the horse. He knew they traveled for what seemed like forever, feeling each step of the horse pulse through his body. He had found his way.
When he opened his eyes again all he saw was the gleaming sun reflecting off gold walls and marble floors. Where was he? He had no idea. But the man did, for moments later he stepped into the vast room.

“Good morning child, today you will become my tool. I will train you and you will carry out my order. Do you understand?” His voice was cold still. He had no emotion.

“Y…yes sir.” Dante muttered to himself. Though the man already knew the answer. This was Dante’s only choice. To accept it or to die by it. But it also happened to be his lucky break. This man was a sworn enemy of the Vatican and all who believed in it. He wanted nothing more then to watch it fall. And so, for years Dante was trained. Trained to fight, to hide, to blend, and to survive. He had become a skilled assassin over a three year span.

He was eighteen now, nearly nineteen, his final mission was at hand. He was to gain access to the Vatican and kill the Pope. Nothing less. Anyone who stood in his way was considered an enemy and would be treated as such. He was equipped with two wrist blades, a long sword, a dagger, and several throwing knives. He was given a black tight fitting cloth that would allow him to hide in the shadows if need be. It was silent, and versatile. He was deadly, and precise. And this was his shot.

It was nearly midnight. The moon was full, it brightened the entire city. The Theater glistened with great beauty while the court yard of the Vatican was mere hours from becoming a blood bath. Dante was given access through sever sets of tunnels created for an escape rather then a break in. They were in case something like this happened, only now they were useless. Dante had rigged each exit with several tripwires and attached to each was an explosive charge. It would kill the one who set it off and bring the rest of the tunnel with it.

The tunnel led to a corridor several yards from the Pope’s office. Men in the same crimson robes as before scoured each hall, keeping constant watch. Dante had to move quickly. He scouted the area well in advance though. He knew that two men would be on guard. One stationed outside the Pope’s office and the other would be only feet from the tunnel entrance. He had to be precise and leave no room for error.

The first man was easy enough. As the concrete door slid open and Dante emerged the guard attempted to draw his blade but was stopped short when two long knives hit their mark, stabbing directly through his throat. It was precise, allowing for no scream, no sound, nothing. The man would simply fall and lose any ability to breathe or retain oxygen and die. A tragedy really, but it was his own fault. The second guard was different. He was confident. He noticed Dante and did nothing. He wasn’t even phased. Arrogance. He was cocky.

“So boy, you have finally returned huh? Too bad, I had hoped you would wait until you could at least pose a threat.” That voice… the rigid echo. It wasn’t… No, it was. The scars and all. He had aged considerably but it was him. That man. That Devil. This was it. His test, was the man right? Was Dante still weak? Or was he about to make a fatal error in judgment?

Dante drew the long sword from his side and faced the Demon. The man also seemed to decide on the same, this battle would be decided by death, nothing less. Both men poised their blades forwards. And both men commenced. Their feet hitting the floor almost in unison. The blades crashed into each other. The slid and grinded against each other.

Dante twisted his and it slid closer yet to the mans hand. The man was smarter though, he pushed up on his blade and brought it into Dante’s shoulder. Dante cringed but remained silent. He looked at the man and drew the blade up again. He charged a second time, this time it caught the other off guard. Dante landed a precise slash across his stomach. It wasn’t deep enough to cause any severe damage thought.

The man however was less resistant to the pain. He freed the blade from one hand and placed his palm on the wound. Dante smiled, his arrogance glimmering now as well. Both men had vengeance in their mind. Both men wanted this. No one was running.

Dante whipped his sword forward and nearly hit the man. However, he stepped to the side and missed it only barely. But it was a moment that Dante needed. It was a distraction. And while the man was distracted Dante ran at him and tackled him to the floor. The both crashed down. But the noise made was not so much a human hitting the floor as it was metal crashing into stone. Dante pushed himself up and stared down at the man. Dante’s palms were flat against the man’s chest.

The scars on the mans face seemed to grow pale, his entire body did. Dante pulled up his palms and revealed two large entry wounds. His wrist blades had both shattered through the rib cage and into the organs. It was over. The blood soaked through his body and into the robe, almost unnoticed. Dante got to his feet and looked down again at the man. This was his fate. No one else’s. This man was evil, and because of it he was punished.

Then he noticed it. On each side of him stood three men. Making for twelve in all. Dante knew he could kill them. Probably with ease if he wanted. But why? He had his revenge. His thirst was satisfied. He simply dropped to both knees and placed his hands on the floor. His head dropped and his hair fell into his face. It was over. This is how Dante wanted it to end. His part was done.

The men all closed in and each drew their blades. Within seconds twelve equal swords ruptured through Dante’s back. It was almost symbolic of a ritual. Perhaps for them, it was. Who knew. They were all corrupt. The world was corrupt. Dante wanted to part in it. That is why he allows this. He didn’t want to face a world ran by those who seek only power.