<strong>Dark Clown's Character</strong><br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote from: Dark Clown</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>Name:</strong> Hannibal Black<br/><br/><strong>Age:</strong> 32<br/><br/><strong>Class:</strong> Rogue (Assassin)<br/><br/><strong>Appearance:</strong><br/>(http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q15/doogieporker/Artemis_Entreri_by_aditya777.jpg)<br/><br/><strong>Shadow Abilities</strong><br/><em>Dark Vision</em> (Though not actual Darksight; he can see in natural darkness, even the gloom of the Underdark, but cannot penetrate magical darkness)<br/><em>Shadow Travel</em> (He can travel roughly 50 feet, using shadows as portals.  However, he has to see where he's going.  He cannot emerge from a cluster of shadows that are behind a wall that blocks his field of vision)<br/><em>Shadow Armor</em> (As the spell)<br/><em>Darkness</em> (As the spell, but the Duration is only five minutes, and the field of effect is only 10 ft wide by 10 feet high.  He cannot see through the darkness)<br/><br/><strong>Background: </strong><br/>The man known as Hannibal Black has never led anything like a posh lifestyle.  From his early years as nothing more than a street urchin in a filthy port city, he was always up to no good.  Picking pockets of fat merchants on the wharfs and stealing from drunken louts in dark alleyways, the child that would grow to become a feared and respected assassin always had a habit of putting his fingers into the right pockets or hearing the right words whilst hiding in the shadows.  His youthful exuberance, coupled with his naturally inquisitive nature, put him into many tight spots, when he was caught thieving or eavesdropping on conversations that didn't concern him.  As such, he learned to fight before he was twelve years old, and to kill only a few years later.<br/><br/>By 15, he was one of the names on a list of prospective members for a guild known as the Shadows of Tamaline, a guild of thieves and assassins feared throughout the land.  Those watching him were so stealthy and skilled that he wasn't aware of his potential future, and without any word on the street to inform him, he had no idea he was being watched.  The Shadows skillfully manipulated events for the young vagabond to participate in.  They magically disguised one of their own to match Hannibal's appearance, and started a fight in a tavern not far from where the boy slept.  The magical alter ego fled, soon fading into the shadows, leaving those enraged tavern-goers chasing after him to stumble over Hannibal's sleeping form.  The ensuing fight was quick and bloody, and the two men lay dead within the alleyway, their throats slit.  Another test came in the form of an attack by wererats, creatures who's cursed presence fouled the city's sewers and outer wharfs.  He survived that test, too, though he was infected with lycanthropy.<br/><br/>Fearing for his survival, he sought the aid of an old gypsy woman who had tended his wounds in the past.  She made him drink a foul-smelling concoction, and as the vile stuff coursed through his body, the Shadows came, paid the old hag a king's ransom in gold, and took their half asleep initiate away to their guild house.<br/><br/>He awoke the next day, shackled to a wall in a dungeon both dark and cold.  He shivered violently, and no matter how he pulled on the thick chains, they wouldn't give.  Rage filled him, but rather than let it take hold, he forced himself to relax and focus on his surroundings.  As he calmed, and his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw a small sliver of bone laying next to his foot.  He grinned, and quickly wriggled out of his boot, using his toes to lift the shard to his fingers.  Once he had a grip on it, he quickly maneuvered the sliver of bone to pick the locks of his shackles, as well as the door to his cell.<br/><br/>He killed two guards during his escape, and as freedom was only feet away, he was stopped cold in his tracks by hands made of shadow.  They pulled him into the darkness, kicking and screaming, and it was only when sound faded away to a dull roar that he realized he was no longer held fast.  He turned, seeing those who had taken him, and realized that they were men, just like he.  They began to explain themselves, who they were, and just what it was they sought...him.<br/><br/>His training began in earnest, from swordplay to the secrets of shadow magic that all the guild members used.  They were primarilly an assassin's guild, he learned, and as such, he was tutored in the proper use of poison, garrotes, and daggers.  He was tested time and again, facing foes that no mortal man should ever have to face, and each time, he was made harder, deadlier, and his will to survive became an iron bound need to succeed.<br/><br/>It wasn't long before he was a ranking member of the Shadows, and sent out on his own.  He was a man now, trained in the deadliest of arts, and one who could call upon the shadows themselves to aid him.  He was a free agent, accepting contracts on an at-will basis, and those that benefited the Shadows.  On the cusp of turning thirty, he was a man of confidence and self assurance, a killer who had never been bested, and a man who's name inspired fear in the hearts of any who heard it.  <br/><br/>Perhaps it was his own arrogance that brought about his downfall.<br/><br/>He had heard of dark elves, or drow as they were known, and of their lethal prowess as fighters and killers.  He had always scoffed at such tales, knowing how his own reputation was often exaggerated to ridiculous proportions.  Hannibal knew what a warrior was, and how even the strongest of men could be laid low by a precise strike.  A small wound could be the difference between life and death, and in his dark heart, he was certain that should he ever face one of these drow, he would prove himself victorious.  <br/><br/>His wish was granted two night later.  He had been traveling alone, returning home from a contract that took him to the keep of a neighboring nobleman who had been rousing the local authorities to seek out and arrest any Shadows they could find.  The nobleman had been dealth with, quickly and quietly, and Hannibal knew it would be morning before anyone discovered he was dead.  He would ride the night through, returning to his own city by dawn, and none would be the wiser.<br/><br/>Or so he thought.  Apparently the nobleman had affiliations with rather extraordinary contacts, not the least of which were among the dark elves themselves.  It was only later that he learned that the nobleman's estate did extensive trading with a dark elf kingdom, smuggling in rare and exotic narcotics to distribute across the land.  The dark elves weren't happy at the loss of such a powerful figure who could quite literally ensure their trade route was uninterrupted, and they sent their own assassin to take care of the fool that murdered their lucrative business partner.<br/><br/>The attack came in an open field, under the light of the moon.  Hannibal had found himself surrounded by a globe of impenetrable darkness, and he instantly rolled off his horse.  He was grateful he had a moment later when he heard the horse cry out in alarm as something struck it, and it fell to the side, slumping to the ground as it died.  He rolled from the darkness to face his foe, and his eyes went wide as he realized it was a dark elf that was trying to kill him.  The drow smiled, seeing the sudden realization of fear, and attacked.  <br/><br/>The battle was long and arduous, both combatants struggling, but unable to find, weak spots in their rival's fighting style.  A kind of respect formed in that realization, but it wasn't enough to keep them from trying to kill each other.  Both pressed harder and faster, their attacks becoming more lethal, the sound of their clashing blades forming a cacophonous symphony of clashing steel and grunts of exertion.  Both scored minor hits, not enough to kill, but enough to tire them both as the battle raged on.  Then, the drow came on hard and fast, bringing in both blades at angles that Hannibal couldn't hope to deflect, and the dark elf smiled, seeing the end coming.<br/><br/>But instead of parrying them, Hannibal accepted the hits, moving into his opponent's range as he did so.  One blow struck him in the chest, the blade pushing past his armor and within inches of his heart.  The other merely scored a minor wound on his thigh.  Despite the crushing pain of the chest wound, Hannibal lashed out with his own blade, shoving it up and through the drow's neck and into his brain, killing him instantly.  The dark elf fell to the ground dead, and Hannibal collapsed, sure he would soon follow.<br/>But fate intervened.  A traveling patrol of guardsmen, having found their murdered nobleman, came upon the scene of the battle, and quickly concluded that it had to have been the dark elf who had murdered their lord.  It was of no consequence that this strange man was in the area, one garbed in black armor and a long, dark cloak.  They decided he had fought the dark elf for his own reasons, and had won, though he was dying.  They forced healing potion after healing potion down his throat, the stuff healing his wounds and bringing him back to consciousness.  They thanked him for dealing with the nobleman's assassin, and offered to escort him back to their deceased lord's keep to properly reward him for the service he had performed.  He declined, acting every part the humble hero, and left them staring admirably at his back as he walked off into the countryside.  <br/><br/>Since then, he has been obsessed with learning more about dark elves, though he is wise to keep his tongue silent to those who might use the need for information against him.  The Shadows of Tamaline, surprisingly enough, knew very little about the drow or their ways, though they were impressed with his story.  Not many who fought a dark elf lived to tell the tale.  <br/><br/><strong>Personality:</strong><br/>To those who don't know him, he is cold and aloof, uncaring for concerns not his own.  To those who know him, he isn't much better.  His most recent obsession has only made him more reclusive, though he still makes regular intervals with his contacts.  He hasn't accepted a contract since his battle with the dark elf...it wasn't out of any doubt over his abilities.  Rather, he found that any contract, no matter how potentially lethal, paled in comparison to the challenge of finding, and facing, another dark elf.  He was certain that if he learned their secrets, knew everything about them and their ways, he would be the most dangerous man in all the realms.  No one could beat him then, no one would even dare. <br/></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div>