Raziel

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After years of searching, it seems Raziel still searches. What he looks for, none really know. Always alone, always in a casual gait. He discovered the existence of his twin upon his training at Alimat. News of the famous and to some infamous Tiger from stories told by the new apprentices of the School. Though he knew better, his curiosity was peaked and he asked the Elder of the school. The one that he heard trained the Tiger. The answer came after several years. His patience pushed to the threshold of sanity. Yes, he did have a twin. Furious as to only finding out late in life of a sibling, his rage overcame him. Heated words were exchanged; curses were brought forth upon the Mentor and Elder. Like a Sandstorm did his anger grow. The codes of Alimat were broken. Lines were severed. The challenge was issued. The Elder accepted. Instincts drove the young Raziel. Like his twin, the craft of the blade came natural, almost to the point of foreseeing the moves of his opponent before they were made, but he was no match for the Elder, three blades pierced the body of the Young Raziel, kneeling down before the Elder as his life's blood mingled in the sand he did not hear laughter as he thought, but the smooth words and calm of the Elder in his ear. "Your rage betrays you. Your eyes tell the moves you make before you make them. You have great skill, much like your Brother, but, you simply need refinement. We will all die. But it is the skill of our Sword arm and our mind that determines when we die." The words spoken were wise indeed. They beat upon the brain of the downed Raziel a split second before he knew what he must do. The Elder drew up for the final blow, when Raziel rose up to meet the Elder in an embrace. Those looking on thought the brash student of 12 years begged for mercy and turned their heads in disgust. The masses witnessing the challenge looked back when they heard the voice of Raziel. "Death will find me, in time, but not now." The gurgling of the Elder struck the nerves of every student and trainer there. Raziel had used the blade protruding from his shoulder to impale the Elder through the esophagus. Drowning is his own blood the Elder knew he was dead, as he backed up and pushed himself from the embrace of Raziel, he withdrew his own black dagger and moved to hand it to Raziel, but fell, dead. Raziel too fell, from his wounds. The passing of one moon's cycle before Raziel could move again. He was shunned at the school once he was out and about. Either from fear or disgust at his method of killing the Elder. He did not know or care. His sense of family was more important to him. The night came when he left and took the dagger of the dead Elder. He stole out into the black night of the Tahari. Searching for the only blood he knew. The presiding Elder, jealous of Raziel, and in the mood of being power hungry, issued the Death hunt on Raziel. One assassin for each week rolled out of the school in the hunt for Raziel. One by one did they fall. Rumors spread of Sandtiger and Raziel followed. It seemed to him every other night he was figthing for his life. As if again the school was preventing him from finding his sibling. Again were they betraying him. Hiding his sibling. His fury became unequivocal. His method of killing extreme. Then the night came. A group of killers cornered him near Port Kar. The battle ensued. One by one the killers fell, but not by Raziel. Bolts from a crossbow felled the first few before the ominous presence of the infamous assassin and elder loomed larger than life amongst the foray. The blade rose and fell. Raziel, nearly awed by the powerful presence, forgot his rage and stood there. With swift fashion and exquisite technique did the assassins fall. Then the lone figure turned to face Raziel. It seemed to each other, that they looked into a mirror. Raziel could only speak one word, so stunned was he, "Why?" The Tiger answered with disgust. "For the same reason, for the betrayal of the school to me. I figgered they came for me and you happened to be caught up in the midst of it." Both stood there, barely able to speak. Finally, they caught up with each other, Tiger explaining most of his travels and home, always speaking fondly of the Tuchuks and those he considered adopted family that took him in and treated him like their own.  The conversation continued and Raziel and Tiger happened into Port Kar. The Tiger forgot about the price on his head. The two would split up and meet again in a favorite tavern of the Tigers. Unfortunately, the Tiger never showed up....alive. Raziel waited...most of the night in that tavern. In the back corner, away from the light, like most assassins, he kept to himself, biding his time, sipping his drink, never over embellishing, always alert. He looked out the window to the tri moons of Gor. It was getting late...what could be taking his brother so long? Then there came a rush into the tavern. Some common folk burst in with news...tragic news for him. "The Tiger.....he is dead!!" There was a gasp in the room. Many knew of the Tiger. A killer unequal. The one man alone killed the Ubar of Koroba and the next three successors to the city before it was burned down after his departure. Many in the tavern leapt to their feet to flood the streets of Port Kar to have a look, disbelieving the news and wanting to find out for themselves, except one lone figure in the far corner. One lone hooded black. Underneath that hood, he cried. He showed his emotions, but none saw. It was his Achilles heel. All that he ever searched for in his life was just taken away. He cried at the loss. Of family and of himself. Then and there, something died in him as well. Raziel rose up from the table in the far corner and left the tavern. He turned down an alleyway and dissappeared into the darkness like a wraith of unconventional warfare. His form melted into the cold dark embrace of the night, and that is where he would forever roam...lost...and...alone.  He was shocked. Furious. He knew what he must do. The blades of his sibling had to be retrieved. Tiger had told him of the sanctuary he had in the forests. Where his personal belongings were. All that was left was the blades and the body. He met with the old thief, bargained the blades and learned the body was to be sent to an acquaintance of the Tiger. Raziel had the blades, the old thief kept the black dagger he assumed was Tigers, and Raziel left before the old thief saw him fully in the light. Like the ghost image of his sibling, Raziel left Port Kar and began his walk of Gor, to many witnesses, they swore it was the ghost of Sandtiger, unable to rest in the CoD for the torment of all those he sent there. Raziel couldn't stand it.  His head swam with visions, many of them clouded, many of them not.  He saw faces.  Faces of those he killed, faces of the families that were left behind, and the face of his brother.  He headed to the Voltais and found his sanctuary there at Mount Ordeals.  When he arrived it had been burned down to the ground.  It took months but he rebuilt it.  There he stayed, not that he lived but he was alive and called the Mount his home.  Then others came and trained and served.  Even unto the darkest of nights, one lone light could always be seen coming from the Great Hall.  It was from Raziel's own room.  Always at night, always by one window.  Raziel would read till dawn.  He could not sleep from the hauntings in his mind.  It was here he started the kanda.  It soothed his mind and but could not stop his pain of heart.  He would stand on his balcony, his black cloak always about his form.  Those looking would think that Death itself was watching from the balcony.  A few years passed and Raziel left.  He left the sanctuary of Mount Ordeals and he walked Gor once more. Raziel's path carried him far from the Voltais and behind him, he left the caste of assassins bitterly.  He left of his own accord and dared a challenge to those remaining blacks that if any deemed him betraying their codes, to come and seek him and his dagger out.  Sometimes he wandered old paths and other times he would make his own.  His travels took him all over the lands of Gor and the many civilizations that inhabited it.  One place he stayed from was his Brothers home.  The plains of Turia and the fierce Wagon People of the Tuchuk.  His brother spoke fondly of Tuchuk and Raziel knew he must go there. As it so happened, the Tuchuk were in nearing their migration and Raziel came across them.   He spoke with the Ubar of the Mighty Tuchuks and the Ubar granted Raziel asylum.  Raziel was soon accepted, though many still wondered why a black would come to Tuchuk.  Quite a many Askari whispered he was there to kill the Ubar and many could not accept the thought that he was simply there to live, if it was possible for him to.  Raziel found his place and his place was home to him.  He was granted the Scars of Tuchuk and was trusted.  This was new to him.  He was loved and welcomed with open arms.  This also was new to him.  He returned the trust and love to his home.  Pledged his life to those that let him live.  He may have been alone, but now, he no longer was.  He was home.