Artemesia Family/Iksandros

Iksandros Arcturus

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Allegiance: Himself

Class: Warrior/???

Alignment: True Neutral

Appearance: Rarely seen openly anymore.

Personality: Serious, hard-working warrior. Feels duty-bound to personal morals more than the law of the land, but will follow the latter so long as there is no conflict with the former.

Equipment: Ceremonial sword from Batesaor, broadsword, lockpick, various bottles of various contents.

Skills: Expert Swordfighting Mastery, Expert Jousting Mastery, Basic Infiltration Proficiency, Basic Bureaucracy Proficiency, Basic Leadership Proficiency.

Guardian of the Flame

When Iksandros took the oath to be a Guardian of the Flame, he made a few changes to reflect the life he was born into:

I swear to fight for justice, for the unjust world can always be righted.

I swear to fight for honor, for that is my claim to humanity.

I swear to fight for education, for ever we are perpetually learning.

I swear to fight for tolerance, for there is value in perspective and mine is not absolute.

I swear to fight for civility, for that is the pillar upon which our society stands.

I swear to fight for patience and logic, for the clouded mind quickly descends to wrong.

I swear to fight for the good people, for they deserve not the wrongs of injustice.

I swear to fight for understanding, for never shall I unwittingly be a tool of evil.

I swear to fight for fairness, for all humanity is equal before the absolute judge.

I swear to fight for brotherhood, for one chooses not to be born a man but chooses to live as one.

I swear to fight for love, for it sustains me against the overwhelming tides of evil.

In Service to Humanity

As our ancestors did in past, so too shall we do at last.

The armies of man unite, and darkness feel our might.

The Daimons of terrible flame, shall fall to us all the same.

The Monsters of hunger and blood, cannot stand against our flood.

The servants of Light and hope, will learn too that humans can cope.

The Undead to honor the Pact, we give ourselves this sacred tract.

Life and Death now face to face, rules of the world will now erase.

As we who now live one day grow old, let then our story be told.

Lineage

House Arcturus was the third ancestral line that eventually united under the name Artemesia. Alexandros Arcturus, as he would have been called had he been born a hundred years ago, is the last living member of the Artemesia family to have the original Arcturus blood.

Past

Several years ago

A mother clung to her child as the two plunged through several feet of snow in the pure white forest, where the snowflakes still fell heavily. Blood marked the woman's footprints as the child's cries fell into silence amidst the apathetic trees and snow.

The effort became too much for the woman, who at last fell into the deep white snow, her body covering the child. A faint light appeared only a few paces ahead, and the woman weakly raised a hand, trying to reach for it. But the cold quickly sapped whatever strength she had remaining, and the arm went limp, the hand fell softly into the snow, leaving a depression where it landed.

Warmth from the mother's body soon waned, and the child felt the heat escape his body. He began to cry, but those were muffled by his mother's body. They became weaker as he lost heat and air, and was almost silent when he suddenly saw a bright yellow lantern glowing above his face.

Blinking slowly, he saw a bearded man in a heavy fur coat lift his mother's body off him. The man shook the child, asking for his name.

"Marshal Iksandros, we should keep moving."

One of the scouts woke Iksandros from his reverie. He looked around at the dark region around him aptly named Waiting Wood. There was no snow on the ground, but the air was still chilly. Iksandros nodded to the scout, gathering his belongings and moving out once more.

Disappearance

Stray tongues of flame whipped around the blasted lands of the Netherworld as invisible hot winds sped across the harsh landscape. Nearly a hundred daimons walked orderly across the blasted region, wearing proudly their shining armor and carrying their long range exotic weaponry taken from their own world. But shockingly, among the large and imposing daimon soldiers walked a smaller being, though he too was clad in armor of the same material, and wielded a much smaller weapon. Upon closer inspection, it could be seen that whereas the daimons all had glowing yellow eyes, the smaller being had dull gray eyes that looked human.

Suddenly, half the daimons vanished into the air as a dark cloud enclosed them, fading and leaving no trace of the warriors. Though the smaller being was also within the cloud, it alone remained, along with the smaller force that avoided the spell of banishment.

With the first spell triggered, Iksandros revealed himself from the shadows of a shattered building, quickly setting the trigger for the next banishment spell he had prepared beforehand. The smaller being, who appeared by then clearly to be the commander, motioned the daimon soldiers to withdraw, and drew a heavy blade, closing the distance to Iksandros.

Two swords clashed, sending sparks falling across the sandstrewn winds, lighting for moments the inferno that raged around the two combatants. Iksandros' swordfighting skills quickly served to maintain his advantage, even though he could feel the superior physical strength of the daimon commander. Despite the daimon commander's size, he still managed to beat down Iksandros' guard, causing the human to resort to a different style. The Melhedian stepped back to avoid a dangerous swipe from the daimon commander's blade, and he thought he saw flames trailing the arc of the sword tip. His preferred style involved close quarters combat, utilizing his strength to overpower his opponents. But against this enemy, Iksandros' strength could not compare. With a wall of fire at his back and the daimon commander in front of him, Iksandros felt for the first time the pressure of imminent death. Gritting his teeth, he passed to his left hand the broadsword he had before been using with his right hand. In the free hand he drew a second blade, a straight and well-balanced longsword. Bracing himself for a retaliatory strike, Iksandros leaped at his enemy, expecting to be killed in the process.

He felt no pain as he saw his two blades connect with the metallic helmet of the daimon commander, causing more sparks to fly into the wind. The helmet flew off, but the daimon commander was uninjured. To his surprise, Iksandros discovered no wounds, and recalled that the daimon did not even raise his blade. Puzzled, he looked at the revealed head of his opponent, and widened his eyes in surprise.

Instead of seeing the face of a daimon, Iksandros saw his cousin's face. Instead of a daimon commander, the opponent who had matched Iksandros in personal combat was a human.

"Hello, Sandy." Said Ramuh, a genuine smile greeting his cousin.

Iksandros said nothing, only advancing with greater ferocity, unleashing a flurry of quick attacks from every direction with his two swords. Ramuh only stepped back to avoid the blows, or blocked the strikes with his gauntlets. At last, the two human-forged blades shattered against the exotic material of the Netherworld. Casting away the broken hilts, Iksandros stood defeated, staring emotionlessly at Ramuh, who for his part, only stared back.

"You know the difference between you and me?" Said Ramuh, still standing without giving any indication of making the finishing blow on Iksandros. "I would not kill one I call a brother." The human of the Netherworld struck his sword into the barren desert earth, standing resolutely in the midst of a growing fire.

"You turn your back to your ideals. You fight for the daimons to destroy us all. How can you yet live?" Iksandros' voice was filled with anger, and his look showed the hate in his eyes.

"It is because I live. I did not choose to be thrust into this storm of fire and death, brother. But I will choose to do what I can to see this war to an end. Right or wrong, good or evil, I at least choose to walk the path I have chosen."

Iksandros did not change outwardly, but his next words were less harsh. "I will not be the only one to revile you. You will never again have a home in the world of humans." Softening his voice slightly, he added, "And Kylen will be sad that her dear brother never returned."

"I know that." Ramuh, in contrast to Iksandros, showed in his eyes and his voice that he still had as much emotion as any human. "No matter what, this world is closed to me because humans will never understand our ways."

"Our ways? What, do you consider yourself a daimon now?"

"No, Sandy. I remain in body and soul a human. But we do not choose what we are at birth. We can choose what path we take in life though. Whatever you might think about my choice, let us leave it as choices we both had to make. I know about you and the undead."

Iksandros became silent when he was reminded of the undead. He recalled the book, and the cold grasp of the undead. He nodded slowly, forcing away the chill he felt from the touch of death that still burned an icy hole in his chest.

"Take this, Sandy," said Ramuh. He took out a sealed envelope, tossing it to Iksandros, who picked it out from the current that carried it to him. "Kylen's original letter was lost when I arrived. But I remembered all of her words by heart and rewrote it completely. I promised her I would return with the letter. Now I cannot do either, but I ask you to be the brother for her, the one I could never be."

Holding the envelope in quivering fingers, Iksandros looked first at the seal, and then at Ramuh. He pocketed the letter in his cloak, giving the non-verbal agreement. Immediately after, Iksandros drew his third and final blade, a silver ceremonial sword decorated with a ruby hilt.

"The Duke of Batesaor's ceremonial sword! Sandy, what are you...?"

Without a word, Iksandros embedded the blade into the ground, and with his free left arm, snapped the sword, sending three pieces flying to his right. Looking up at Ramuh, blood flowing from his left forearm, and the shattered hilt in his right hand, Iksandros spoke clearly and without any anger or hatred. "We both are oathbreakers then. Both of us have chosen to turn our backs to our ideals. You have become a soldier of the Netherworld, turning your back to being a hero of humans. And I have failed to kill you. Goodbye, brother. May we never meet again, neither in this world nor the next, assuming either of us has a place in death."

"I see. Understood, brother." Ramuh looked sadly at Iksandros, but he picked up his helmet, and placed it back upon his head. He retrieved his sword, and stepped through the flames, rejoining the daimons.

Iksandros turned his back to Ramuh, and weaved through the places whee the flames did not reach, leaving behind the inferno of the Netherworld. But even as he moved swiftly and silently through the lands of the dead, he felt the cold clutch painfully searing him. In Gemke, where the dead passed, Iksandros felt weakened, and after several days without rest, he fell alone in an empty field.