Shadow Name: Vortigern
Order: The Mysterium
Path: Moros
Concept: Composed Snob
Background: Born Wesley Collins. His family lived in a small town house in Cicero, Illinois. They made enough money to live off of, Which was alright with him, but it did mean that his parents were gone a lot. He didn't particularly mind. Got a bit lonely though. His house was a vibrant blue in colour, which annoyed him. He wasn't quite sure why, but anytime he had to leave or return, he'd see his house and become irritated. Which was a terrible way to begin or end a day. He vowed to paint something different when he was sure on what that colour was.
After getting in an argument with the colour of his house he went to school. Though, he couldn't be bothered to really pay much attention. For the most part the lessons bored him, either something he already knew or something that didn't pertain to him. He'd skate through the grading system so no complaints were made but he wanted something to challenge. Something interesting.
After school, like every other day, he headed to his favorite burger place, where he would hang out until it started getting dark. But this day was different. He noticed something down a dark alleyway. Something weird. Like graffiti. Being a 'diligent' student, he decided to check it out. It was straight out of a bad voodoo movie or something, a pentagram, somethings that looked like they might've been animal bones, a liquidy substance that must have been blood. Definitely something going on here. And then... Everything went to black.
And then he woke up, with a massive headache, He assumes he must have been hit with an bat or something... His vision becoming clear. He looked around, not familiar with area, but with all the boxes and storage, he could only assume he was in a warehouse. When he tries to get up he notices that his hands and feet are bound. It figures, discover some weirdo black voodoo magic and you get knocked out tied up.
Looking around more now he notices some more of the floor has the voodoo print, seems to be made of chalk or something. He can also tell that it must be getting dark because he can see the last remnants of light pouring through the window. But something that catches him off guard is that no one is around. Which was strange... Didn't people who kidnapped other people usually stick around. Especially voodoo wizards.
Right about when he started to try and push his way up to get a better look at the room he heard some chanting. It definitely was not English. And more importantly it was not singular. They began to pour into the room, something like six people, he couldn't tell which were men and which were women, due to the acoustic in the room and they were all wearing heavy black cloaks.
The first five moved to the points of the star on the ground, continuing with the chant while the last one moved off to the side, to some form of desk or something and pulled up a Kris knife. He moved forward, holding the blade out not actually grasping the handle, he moved towards Wesley, and pulled him up to his knees. Wesley, at this point, was kinda freaking out, as the occultist lift the blade up, preparing to drive it into his heart, Wesley closed his eyes, one final thought passing through his mind. Am I going to die here?
And nothing. No chanting. No strange people in there heavy cloaks. He opened his eyes, to a most dreary sight, where death seemed prominent. It was cold as he made his way forward, not exactly sure what was going on. The tower in front of him Beckoned him to come closer. He tried to keep his eyes on the tower for now, not wanting to lose his attention to anything else. He entered, slowly, and peered around the lobby, in which a bunch of paintings sat, scattered around the room, but none of them actually on the walls, which were covered in scratch of peoples names. Some foreign, some not.
The paintings all had prominent point of his life, Stuff he accomplished Points were he should have done better. Stuff that happened to him to shape his live as it was today, and at the far end was a painting, the only one that was hanging. Which was a painting of himself, as he is today. In front of which was the same knife that the occultist was planning on killing him with. Picking up the knife, and looking at the painting, it wasn't that hard to figure out what he had to do. Grasping the handle, He struck the painting as hard as he could. The blade went in easy, and began to bleed from the attack. Pulling the knife out, the picture fell off the wall and behind it was his own name. There was a sudden gasp, followed by a sigh of relief, as if the tower was congratulating him for over coming his death.
His eyes open, back to reality, back to about to being killed, As the occultist began to swing downward, Wesley swung his head forward, and collided with the mans gut. The Occultist Gasped out in pain as Wesley recoiled back. There were a couple of sudden flashes followed by some loud bangs. Turn to look, he saw some people in tactical gear that might have said swat. The Occultists recoiled back and some of them fell to the floor, Wesley just watched with a blank stare.
After the occultist were either gunned down or surrendered, the police informed Wesley that the occultists were suspected of kidnapping and killing three other people. They also informed him that he was quite lucky to be alive. He wasn't sure. He figured it was because of his quick thinking and action that saved him. Or that other place, but he figured it was probably for the best if he left that out. Don't want people thinking he's crazy.
After that night, he started to visit occult, magic and paranormal shops, to see if he could find out anything about that strange place and the tower. A couple of weeks went by and he was contacted by the Mysterium. That was two years ago. Now he has some interested in striking out in to the world and learning some stuff for himself. But that would require some help. Maybe he'll find some like-minded individuals to start a Cabal with.
Magic Ideas: I'm not sure at the moment. Possibly A focus on entropy or decay. >w>;;
