Legacy of Mateo Cassini

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Posts: 12
Character: To be decided

Legacy of Mateo Cassini

Post by Hawthorne » February 4th, 2023, 2:16 am

Mateo Cassini

When You Seek the Good in Others, You Find the Best in Yourself
- John Spence

[[ Most spoilers redacted, but minor ones below - read at your own risk. DO NOT METAGAME! ]]


Birth Name: Mette Jakobsen
Identity: Mateo Cassini
Birthdate: Warmwind ??, 1322
Birthplace: Nikyet, Arkhess
Birthsign: The Legionnaire


Age: 25
Height: 6'0"
Weight:227 lbs.
Eyes: Emerald
Hair: Dirty Blonde
Skin: Lightly Tanned
Handedness: Right
Posture: Relaxed
Hygiene: Good
Scent: Campfire/Fireplace Undertones

Physical Description: Barrel-chested and Sturdy. Wavy blonde hair is usually kept pulled behind the ears and under a Floppy Hat. His matching beard is usually cropped to a goatee, though the cheeks may grow stubbly at times. He has a few scars across the bridge of his large nose. Emerald Green eyes are often squinted under bushy eyebrows. One would not call him the most attractive man, but he is fair enough to look at.


General Health: No illnesses, Physically Fit
Profession: Lumberjack and Soldier
Faction Affiliation: NONE, at the moment
Languages: Nothryian, Decusian
Accent: Arkhessian, His laugh comes from deep within, though his chuckles are in a low tone and short.
Roleplay Tools: Floppy Hat, Big Honkin Axe

Hobbies: Working and Training
Habits : Mateo has a habit of making light of some serious situations. He copes with his feelings by working himself to the point of exhaustion. He enjoys the sauna.

Personality Description: Mateo seems mostly care-free and outgoing. He is slightly faithful to the Decusian religion, with some reserve. He is loyal to his Family.


Mateo grew up an Orphan at a Legion Outpost in Arkhess. His parents had perished as a horde swept across Kalaasta and into Nikyet. He was found days later by a Legion March.

Taking him in and putting him up in the stables with the Quartermaster, Mateo chopped firewood in exchange for his board. Mateo was often bullied for being scrawny and small, until one day Alexander Cassini, Tessarius of the Outpost, found him beaten and bloodied in the sparring arena. Cassini took Mateo in at the age of 14 and taught him valuable lessons for life and stories about Tor. But Mateo had no interest in becoming a Soldier.

Mateo worked hard; a lesson his real father, Jakob, had instilled in him. He supplied most of the Firewood until he was big enough to carry and load logs. He eventually headed a Logging Camp in the wilderness under the Legion banner.

As a new Horde swept across Arkhess, the Outpost itself had finally been overrun. Having few Legionnaires on standby at the moment, the Outpost fell. Alexander and a few brave soldiers fought valiantly, with Mateo in tow, but finally succumbed. But not before Cassini ordered Mateo to burn the Fort and Run.

Strengths: Caring, Generous, Idealistic, Hard Working, Charming
Weaknesses: Passive, Naive, Uneducated, Jealous

Governing Virtue: Humility
Governing Throne: Falsehood
Last edited by Hawthorne on July 8th, 2023, 9:25 am, edited 2 times in total.

Posts: 12
Character: To be decided

Re: Legacy of Mateo Cassini

Post by Hawthorne » March 26th, 2023, 8:59 pm

Squire. Chatelain, even. What a fancy word for errand boy and lumberjack.

What was it that made him feel differently than he did before. It -had- felt like a sense of family. Like he had a new mentor for the first time since his "Father", Alexander Cassini, had died in that fort fire. That fire that Cassini urged Mette to start.

Adam, though Mateo didnt always agree wholeheartedly with what he said, felt like an older brother. And Evangeline, his bride, like an older sister. The way she'd ruffle his hair and tease him. The way Adam showed appreciation for his services, much as a father would boast about a hard-working son when in the presence of others. Things like this had made him feel good about his station in the Parish. Lucien, wanting to take Mateo along on hunts, or go drinking, or stay up late in conversation even when it was most meaningless to anything. Lady Nicolien always seemed to value his opinions. He even felt like they followed some of his own ideas about helping folks in the fort and such. Graelynn, well, he cared dearly for her even if he could not force himself to love her as she did him.

But lately, well. Lately it had been different. Adam had seemingly deserted the family. Not long after his wedding. Eva was a mere husk rowing through the motions of day to day dealings. What feeding the camp laborers or the occasional clearing of the sewers. The sisters seemingly nowhere to be found. And Lucien, skulking about the shadows and eavesdropping on him more often than not. If Mateo could not feel trusted, why bother?

Mateo felt he had done no more than -try- to repair or raise the reputation of the Parish as a whole. But that seemed an insurmountable mountain to climb at times. He'd tried to smooth over the whole ordeal in the caverns. That wasn't easy at all. He'd tried to set up meetings for each side to talk. That wasn't easy at all. He'd defended his rights to do business with whomever he wished. That went over well enough but his hope of dragging some Red along with him to visit people on the other side of town hadn't gone quite as smoothly as he'd hoped.

Where the Hel has Adam been any damned way? Maybe there was a clue somewhere in the Province. Eva just said he was away on business. But that answer wasn't enough for Mateo as he knew entering the QZ was a sentence one did not easily get out of. He'd scour the province and see if he could find the man. Starting with the woods between the Hollow and Lockland.

He had seen the ruined Black Wolves fort. He'd known there was not much left save for ash and rubble. But maybe there was some sort of clue about the remnants. He'd make his way in from the North, through Lockland. He'd cut a trail through the ill that walked the Village with ease. And he would reach the Wolves' Den at Nightfall. The torches he'd picked from the highwayman would come in handy.

He searched finding scrolls with what looked to be names of people or places. But they made little sense to him. He'd study the globe on the desk that held a lantern. But there was not much clue in it. He'd finally leave the place and head back toward Prae. Neci would rent him a horse and he'd give up his search for now.

On his way, he would see a flickering copper colored light emitting a soft glow through the trees. Curiosity would get the better of him this time. He'd make his way up the overgrown path and find a lonely little shack. Upon reaching it, He'd find the Lone Witch chanting in tongues and felt a rush of cold over his bones. It froze him in place as the Witch closed in on him. His blood soon thawed and he'd let his axe rip through her flesh. Dispatching the Witch alone was fairly easy enough. But what came next, would lay him out cold before he even knew what hit him.

Mateo lied there thinking of what would be next as the Revenants made their way back to check on their Witch. He crawled off, back toward the road and found a stump to double over and rest. He'd rest until he regained his breath and he thought about Adam once more. What had he learned from fighting alongside the man? Tactics. He'd creep slowly back up and toss a rock at one of the trio. Picking him out of the pack. The things weren't -easy- but, manageable mano y mano. He'd lay out the first before picking out a second and finally the third.

Neci, steel-hardened horse renter of Briar's Hollow, had a horse ready for him and he'd make his way back to the Parish Hall. Only to find it empty once again. He would wander the districts in search of food and drink. The Risk, all but shut down, Ani hadn't had shit for stock in over a month now. Perhaps it was Constantine's way of forcing the Parish to visit the Bistro. A tactic that had seemed to work, at least against the Squire, a couple times before. He raised the Portcullis and made his way left past the Bathhouse. He'd known Miss Hailey had been selling the Meddler's wares for sometime now. He sat down across from her and raised a finger, sliding three coins across the bar.

Footsteps. An already nervous, out-of-place man, clad in nothing Red in color; looked to the foot of the stairs as the lock was tickled. A half naked man covered in tattoos looked him over and smiled, almost wickedly. Mateo returned the smile, raising the bottle of Curtain Call as the man stepped slowly closer. The Westerner would look him up and down, noting to himself the lack of color in his vestments, and asked, "And how are the -Ravens?"

Mateo, admittedly not knowing how to answer, just shrugged his shoulder and sipped of the spirits.

Posts: 12
Character: To be decided

Re: Legacy of Mateo Cassini

Post by Hawthorne » June 21st, 2023, 12:59 pm

Cornbread. Damn. Had he really already eaten all but that? Eh Fuck it. It had been a long couple of days running all over Hel’s Half-acre in search of Nola and well, Lucien. Or what was left of him. Motivations had been numerous. Avi needed the help. Constantine wanted desperately to find her. And well, Mateo would have hated to see Lucien rise like some affliction in the monastery. Something about that in itself didn’t sit right with him.

Truth was he was tired. From Prae to Bright Lantern and down through the caverns, up to a dead end in a mineshaft with no good signs of direction from there. He and Connie had run the whole of the valley, searching every cranny along the mountain’s bases. It was time for sleep and Cornbread would have to do, for now. In the morning, he’d head back to Prae.

-A couple days later-

With Nola having been located and her… case… closed, he would continue his search whether anyone wanted him to or not. Avi was still in search of the body after all, as was his order. He’d go to the place where he had lost the trail and start forward in different directions. He’d deemed the body not to be in the valley. So he made his way along the Mountain base toward Penitence. Still nothing bore fruit. Should he continue the search? Should he follow the base down all the way to the sands and then around the whole of the fucking Province at this point? Well, he guessed he would, but something more than cornbread was calling his name. He’d stop off in Prae for rest at the inn and Sheperd’s Pie.

Sitting outside the café, he heard numerous footfalls. Avinecci was leading some strange posse through the street toward the bank. With the pie all but done for and a half cup of remaining tea, he made his way past the Post Office and down to the street level. Ravens. Several, minus one, led by the Deputy Auditor.

“Ola Ola, Mister Cassini. We need your help if you will come with us.” Avi stated, concern upon his features. Pushing himself off the stone column, Mateo nodded. He knew this could only mean one thing. Nicolien wasn’t apt to hunt much these days and Evangeline was clad in golden armor from head to toe. Doctor Luvfist and The Chasseur, Henriette followed along. Avi wouldn’t need Mateo’s assistance if not for… well, not unless he thought it might be difficult.

“Meet us at the bank.”

“Which way was he found?”

“South” Avi stated.

That crazy bitch. Mateo thought to himself. From fucking Praesidium to Bright Lantern and now all the way back south. He knew it had to be. Because he’d searched the whole Angel Forsaken North already.

“Why not just go get him? What do you need of me?”

“Sempiternal” Avi’s choice of word seemed strange to Mateo, but he would nod anyway.

The group would run into Ashford who would also saddle up. Good. An undead Lucien Silvercrest could be a pain in the ass as much as he was in life. They’d all ride south and then head west on foot. An area Mateo was unfamiliar with. Avi took them around the swamp and through a clearing to find a rattan hut on stilts, sitting in the middle of a cesspool.

Fitting place Nola. You crazy bitch.

Posts: 12
Character: To be decided

Re: Legacy of Mateo Cassini

Post by Hawthorne » July 8th, 2023, 3:26 am

A Memory

"Mette!" A deep voice echoed into the woods. "Where have you gone off to Boy?"

Across the hollow, a boy of seven autumns played with an axe. The two sided head of the thing much too large for him to wield. An extra fourteen or so inches stuck out from where the boy had it choked. He had no business swinging it, all truths be told. But that did not stop him from trying.

With a grunt, the scrawny boy laid the dull object into the base of a pine tree, ten inches in diameter. He had barely skinned the bark of the damn thing. Despite his weakness, he did not grow angry. He just laid into the trunk once more before the booming voice grew closer this time.

"Mette!" Da had finally found him. "Boy I know you heard me." The young boy stood up straight, hiding the double headed axe behind his back. The burly man chuckled and shook his head. "You know that axe is too big for you, my son. How many times must I say it?"

Mette studied the pattern of the leaves in front of his feet, too worried to look up at his father. He knew he could be in trouble for taking the axe. He knew his mother would be worried, had she known he was out in the woods alone with such a tool. Despite his wrong-doing, his father did not seem upset.

"Ma has supper ready. Your favorite. Rabbit stew."

The boy grinned and shook his head. "That is -your- favorite, Da."

"So it is," his father grinned. "Perhaps she has more than -just- that. You will have to wait to find out."

The boy offered the axe back to the Lumberjack. "No." The man shook his head. "You carried it out here. You will carry it back and put it away."

"Mette?" The boy's mother met them at the top step of the porch. She shook her head but smiled as he carried the axe back to the shed. "You've been playing with Da's axe again, hnn?"

"Yes Ma." The boy replied.

"What has Da told you about that axe?"

"It's too big for me. But I think the bigger the axe, the harder the trees will fall." The boy returned to the front porch where his mother ruffled his hair.

"Get cleaned up. Your favorite, Rabbit Stew is on the pot." She grinned as he groaned under his breath.

"Yes Ma."

Truth be told, there was never much choice in the matter of dinner. Whatever Da had managed to kill or trap and share amongst the village. This rabbit stew had actually been kept warm in the pot for the last three days. They just never really teased about it like they were today. As they ate, Ma and Da shared stories of their mundane days of washing the laundry or hauling the logs. But the mood tonight was light and airy. A sense of giggly in an otherwise drab and cold world.

"Eat up, Boy." His father finally turned to him. "You might like what is next."

Mette thought it odd, his parents mood on this particular night. Usually after dinner was not more than bringing in the night's firewood. At least not this time of year. The Great Flame had hidden itself over the western mountain. The boy hurried though to finish his stew. To keep Da waiting on him to finish more than five minutes was usually not in his best interest.

"Go on Ma. Bring it out here." Jakob nodded.

Ari obeyed, a soft smile brought out a hint of a dimple on her right cheek, as she popped up from the table to turn to the cupboard. Ma usually was not this energetic after dinner. She was as hard-working as his father was. Maybe even moreso. She worked with Aunt Delfa tanning the reindeer hides and stretching leather for winter coats. And she was usually ready for bed by the time the night's dishes had been washed. But tonight was different. There was happiness in her movements that Mette noted with curiosity.

Her soft smile gave way to a wide grin as she turned back and placed a pie upon the table. The smell of the apples tickled his nostrils. The boy licked and rested his teeth upon his bottom lip. He tried not to smile and give away his elation while his mother cut the crust and scooped a messy portion of the falling apples onto his father's plate. Da waited for the rest of the portions to be placed before he spoke.

"Go on Son. Tell us how it is." Mette wasted no time spooning from plate to mouth, grinning ear to ear. "I believe he likes it, Love," the man grinned to his wife before digging his own spoon into the dessert.

Mette wondered what was so different about today. Sweets were never something to be had on a random night. He didn't care much at the moment though. Ma's purchase of sugar was not of his concern. Happiness filled the cabin and that was all that mattered.

"When you finish that," his father finally spoke from the corner of his full mouth before he swallowed. "Be a good boy and fetch us four good sticks and an overnight burner." The boy knew exactly what his terms meant for the night's firewood. It was only Warmwind and the fireplace need not roar as much as it needed in Deepsnow.

Down the back steps toward the lean-to, something shimmered in the light of the early moon. There was never much metal on the back porch of the cabin. The boy gave it less than a curious glance on his way to the rick. It was not until on his way back with the smaller sticks that he noticed exactly what it was, leaned up against the rail post.

A small hatchet, a new one. One he knew he had not ever seen on their plot of woods. He best be getting that last overnight chunk back in though before he brought up the quiry.

"Da?" the boy spoke softly after setting the log down. The mood in the cabin remained jovial. Ari sat sideways on Jakob's lap at the table, her arms around his thick neck. Three empty pie plates before them. "There is a hatchet on the back porch. I've never seen it."

"Oh?" his father's head tilted and his brow slightly furrowed. "Go and bring it here." Ari kissed her husband's cheek and let loose of his neck before moving to clear the table. Mette made his way back outside, much to his father's chagrin.

The boy placed the hatchet on the table. It was a nice piece of iron, slightly bearded with an ash handle just longer than his forearm. He could not help but admire the thing. Jakob raised the hatchet and twisted it in his hand. After having given it a good once over he finally smiled. "Do you think you could finish that pine tomorrow with this?"

Mette's eyes lit up and a toothy smile graced his lips. He nodded as he picked up the tool once more.

"Good Son." The man's belly jiggled slightly with laughter as he paused. "Happy Birthday."

Posts: 12
Character: To be decided

Re: Legacy of Mateo Cassini

Post by Hawthorne » July 10th, 2023, 12:03 pm

Fire. And Screaming. Confusion for a young lad like him.

It had been the first outbreak near Nikyet. And his village was neither educated much about it nor prepared for it. When Jedda returned from Kalaasta with the year’s staple supplies, it was a gift he didn’t know he had purchased. Two days later, he was dead. And thirty hours after that, he was alive again. The village elders knew they shouldn’t have waited for his brother to come home to see him before he was set aflame. But it was too damn late for that now.

Screaming. And Fire. That’s all there was. Or all a young boy could see and hear anyway. And now he was separated from his parents. The burly lumberjack waving a torch to every thatch roof in the village. His mother trying to help other children escape. That was the last he had seen of them.


Trees. And Silence. But no confusion. The boy knew by now, that he was alone. The only heat he felt was the burning of his tired legs.

Pine trees were all he could see at this point. And now his shivering body longed for fire. He pulled up dead limbs and chopped them with his hatchet. Shaved kindling and gathered fallen leaves. But the moisture was too high whether he knew it or not. And his energy was waning. No way he could run that bow string any longer. He’d been practicing, but he hadn’t yet mastered the skill of fire making at ten years old. And it was a Hel of a lot harder without Da’s guidance.


Splash. What the Hel was that?

The boy jumped forward on the bed to find a woman clad in a deep red apron with a white bonnet holding an empty bucket. He did not recognize her. He’d never seen such clothing. He gasped for air and kicked once before being held down by another. Who were these women? And what were they doing to him.

“Calm yourself Lad. It’s alright. You’ve been sleeping for the past few days. It is time to wake up.” Her voice was sweet and pleasant. But Mette didn’t understand any of it. He kicked again trying to free himself but the woman holding him down was too strong for him.

“Calm down Boy.” The familiar accent cut through the air like Da’s axe. Stern and with a rumble. The woman holding him was speaking his language. And he understood, if nothing but the command. He understood that part…

Posts: 12
Character: To be decided

Re: Legacy of Mateo Cassini

Post by Hawthorne » June 23rd, 2024, 2:04 am

Whiskey and Foundry Selects. Was that really what he had reduced himself to? A bottle a night and a pack at least.

The water ebbed in and out at the docks. A long night he'd spent watching the light of the moon dance across the ripples. The man was almost mindless. Seldom striking an oil lighter and pulling the flame through a new cigarette. The bustle of the Fort had all but waned to silence. Even the dockworkers had left their posts. A passing guard shone a lantern out towards him every now and again, pausing to gauge him. But the man's eyes remained upon the water. Two empty bottles lie next to him and several butts had disappeared by now with the waves.

His slumber as of late had not been restful. Few nights, he'd stay in the Revel as it were. Few nights up North at the cabin. Few nights at the Apartment. Though few of them had been particularly easing. It mattered little what setting he found himself in when he woke. He may have a good night here, or a good one there. A good one with her or without. Several times, he'd woken in a cold sweat and slipped his arm out from under her, careful not to disturb her, as he slipped to the other room for a drink.


Dark figures clad in black attire, dark red cloaks draping their backs. Each in turn lit up on the left sides of their faces by torch light. He'd look up from his back to find them hovered over him, all seven of them set to plunge broadswords into his bare chest. The chaos that would ensue afterwards was where the real nightmare began. Before his final breath, Mateo would witness himself split open and a gaggle of worms exit the wounds. He'd then witness himself rise and transform into a Writhing Mass of Worms fighting back against his murderers. He'd feel the heat of the Flames as they licked under him and rose to finally engulf him.


It had been weeks, though he could not count how many, since he and Riah had received the serums. This experimental dosage, at best, had at least seemed to quell his memory losses and the itching. He hadn't found himself lost in the middle of the day anymore. He had not felt any urges to find the Orb. Were these nightmares part of the disease itself or just the curse of having been a survivor for this long? He had no answer for them.


What was this place? A Darkened Cave lit up by a singular campfire spit, barely smoldering, in the middle. Stalactites hung from the ceiling. Makeshift tables and altars lined the edges of the room. Each with blackened blood and entrails dripping to the dirt floor below. All manner of crude blades and tools lie on the shelves. Mateo crept through the room, trying his best to remain silent. For a flicker of light came one of the caverns off to his right. As he approached, he could hear them.

The chants echoed throughout. Mateo peered through a crevice at the sight, keeping himself hidden from the Cannibals. Dancing and chanting and shaking bead-filled gourds. They danced around the dead woman, what could only be discerned as a sacrifice. Her limp body bound to a large stalagmite. His lips parted but no sound escaped as he realized who she was.


He woke once again abruptly. Cold sweat dripping from his fingers as he rubbed at his face. Why was he having such nightmares? He'd go downstairs to rummage the pantry, finding only a bottle of weak wine looted from the highwaymen. Chugging it entirely, he made his way back up. To sit in silence and peer into the flames of the fireplace.


Mateo stood among the crowd of onlookers. Murmuring and muttering amongst themselves. There was a pull to the place itself. He felt compelled to be there. Like he belonged among them in search of something. Some feeling they all shared together. He could not quite explain it, but it was ever-present. Upon the catwalk stood a man, not normal but more so clad in metal, almost as if the metal were a part of him. He looked more a machination than a man. The crowd stood below, gazing up at the platform as the second man appeared from beyond the crenulations.

"What is da meaning of dis?" The man with steepled hands asked down to the quieted crowd below. The crowd stared back at the man, Mateo among them, as if he belonged. "Dis is an illegal gaddering. Who speak for you?" The man's voice was calm and measured but the crowd once again did not respond. Finally, the man's voice boomed forth, "Disperse or face penance for your insubordination!"

Suddenly, the silence broke in unison, Mateo's voice among them as he joined in their chants. Every word spoken as if rehearsed with the group. They felt like brethren of some sort. Like there was a bond between them and himself.


"May de flame grant you mercy for I shall grant none!" The Voice upon the ramparts shouted. Mateo stared up at him, continuing the chant, his foot stomping in tune with the rest of the crowd.


Just then, the flames sprayed across the courtyard, raining down like hellfire. They licked at his clothes before he watched those in the front row fall to the ground, their bodies bursting forth with worms. His own body, falling, and then rising to hover over the crowd. Though he was not himself, but a writhing mass of infection, trying desperately to eat anything in his path.


He woke to a splash across his face, backing himself across the splinters of the wood. His eyes opened to see the man standing over him, rough and rugged with a straw hat and pauper's clothes. A bucket finally clanging to rest a few feet away from him.

"You need to go home, Man. You're gonna end up rolling off the dock and into the water one of these fuckin mornins. And my pole ain't strong enough to fish your ass up."

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