I wish this document had a different title, but it cannot. I am a fool, I stubborn, bull-headed fool who has cost his family more than he can ever repay and cost himself more than he could ever afford to lose. I was born a Vodacce so passion runs in my blood. Passion for women, wine, games, all of it. Basically a passion for life. But I let that passion rule me and it has caused more pain and suffering than I could ever wish on the ones I love. I can see that I am digressing, allow me to give you a bit of background so that you may understand.

I was born into a perfect home. We were not the richest family in Vodacce, but we were far from being the poorest. My father owned a merchant company of no small fame and even with the recent rise of the Guilds we were still running a swift trade with good profits. I was the youngest child of seven. Three brothers and three sisters. I was often doted upon by my sisters who, so they said jokingly, were going to raise me so that I had a proper respect for ladies unlike my scalawag brothers who were still running about breaking hearts across the city. To which my brothers would respond by saying that they were going to make sure I knew how to wield a blade well if I were going to protect the honor of the women they courted! Such was my family. I rarely saw my mother or father but they were always kind and gentle towards me and treated me with much love. So it came to pass that on my 17th year I was sent off to Castille for proper schooling in the ways of finance and trade. My father and uncles could teach me finance and trade, but Castillian colleges could teach me the Church approved Arts and Sciences they could not.

I will say now that I was spoiled rotten. Not that I would fall to the ground and have fits of holding my breath when I didn't get my way, but spoiled none the less. I had truly never had to work for anything in my life before. Servants cared for my needs, I had a fat allowance that allowed me to do basically as I liked. I had never known what it was to strive. Even at swordplay I had a natural talent that my instructors recognized and nurtured. I enjoyed the blade so it did not seem work to me at all. But attending the stuffy, Church-backed universities in Castille was not fun, not fun at all! I quickly became frustrated with my professors and my lack of a head for numbers. I began to miss classes as I had discovered gaming houses where I could squander an evening away at dice or cards. I began to spend more and more nights away from the university and more time at the establishments of ill repute. I did well at first. In fact with the allowance my father sent and what I won I rented a place away from the campus and closer to the gaming houses I frequented most. But soon my luck changed, I began not only to lose, but to lose extravagantly!

I was so used to my luck holding true that when I started losing I simply shrugged it off as a slight bit of ill fortune and went to a moneylender to make up the difference I had lost. By this time I no longer even bothered with the pretense of going to classes and I only stopped by my rooms on campus to pick up my correspondence from home and my monthly allowance. My instructors left letters inquiring as to my health and if they should contact my parents to which I replied that I was in perfect health but that I was attending to family business dealings and that I would be back to class as soon as I was able. Apparently either they accepted this or they just enjoyed having an empty paid seat in the class because no notice reached my parents of my absences.

In the mean time my luck continued to spiral downward out of control but I refused to acknowledge it. I continued to spend and gamble as if I was still winning constantly. I borrowed from moneylenders, ran up house credit, borrowed from friends until finally, one evening as I sat at my usual table in El Lobo Rojah blind-drunk and penniless a blurry figure sat across from me at the table.

"Maybe its time you wrote your father, eh boy?" I heard threw my drunken haze. The accent was unfamiliar yet still familiar in some indistinct and ill-tasting way.

"Ss...say missster-sir sir, wanna play carssd?" I replied, totally ignoring what the man across from me had said.

"Bah, this will not do if you are too drunk to remember, drink this." He said as he slid a flagon across to me.

"My tanks caned shir!" I mumbled cradling the cup of what I thought was warmed wine. As I began to drink the warmth spread threw me and as I set the flagon down I was noticeably sober.

"Sir I do hope you have plenty of coin because I am now far more sober than I intended this night and I have no coin left to start over." I said with a gleam coming to my eye.

"Relax your sword arm Renaldo DeVache, we have business to discuss." He replied, waving me back into my seat even as I began to rise.

My rear hit the seat harder than I intended as it seamed that my mind my have been cleared but my body still suffered some of the effects of the wine I had consumed. I studied the man closely but his face was hidden by a wide brimmed hat pulled low. I could identify his clothing though: Vendel. He wore Dark crimson garments of a very fine cut, the likes of which only a truly wealthy person could afford.

"You have my attention sir, for the moment. You seem to know my name but I fear I am at a loss. Forgive me but at times my memory is less than I would like it to be." I held my hand out in greeting but he made no move to take it.

"I have purchased your debts Mr. DeVache you owe nothing to any lender or gambling house in the entire city. You now owe me. Do you understand." His body never seemed to move as he spoke but I still felt as if he were looming over me in a threatening manner. "Your dept's are mine to collect sir, and I will have my payment. Whether or not you or your father makes restitution will be up to you, but I will have the moneys owed to me by the DeVache family, or I will have it in blood. One way or another DeVache will pay!" His hand slammed down onto the table at this last word and I heard an audible crack. He stood quickly and turned as if to leave. I was making my best attempt to stand and draw but he spun on his heal at such speed that I really saw nothing but whirling cloak. He carried me clean to the bar room wall, my feet not touching the ground the entire trip and slammed me into it so hard that for a moment all I saw were bright flashes of light.

"No my young DeVache, darkness shall not take you yet," he said cupping my chin in his hand and raising my eyes to look into his face. Horrible Scars disfigured it as if some huge feline repeatedly racked his face with its claws. His eyes blazed with rage and fury and spittle frothed from his destroyed lips. "Remember all that you have seen and heard here tonight youngling. Tell your father exactly what I said, word for word. Tell him Bjorgsen Fellhand has returned and the house DeVache will pay! It will pay or it will bleed!" He dumped me to the floor and strode away silently, his boots on the floor the only sound.

I was on the next ship home, a note had been dispatched ahead to warn my father of what the circumstances of my return were. Truly I was returning home in shame but I had no idea what to expect. My brothers dressed in the black clothes of morning greeted me at the docks. My mother and father stood at the front of them and my sisters gathered behind them all, weeping. I stepped off the boat and my father walked up to me and embraced me once, handed me a small chest and stepped back.

"My youngest son, Renaldo DeVache, has perished. He died of the pox's while still at sea. I have lost my son. He is no more. You, stranger, may bear his face, but you are not my son. Leave my sight and never return." My mother wept silently behind him and my brothers each turned there gaze away from me saying "I do not know you, go in peace." as they did so.

My mother was the last to turn but before she did she stepped forward and handed me a sealed envelope, which bore the seal of Elysia, my aunt and fate witch to the De Vache house. "Go Renaldo, you fate has taken a different route than ours. Carry our love with you, and our best wishes, but go." and she turned her back on me as well.

My family walked slowly up the docks leaving me standing alone and dumbfounded. After they finally disappeared from sight a hand taped me on the shoulder.

"Ere' den mate, watt ja' want done wit jer bags?" asked the sailor walking almost drunk-like on the steady surface of the dock.

"Leave them here with the harbor master. I will send for them." I replied mechanically as I slowly walked up the dock and into the first inn I came too. I knew the situation was bad and that I had disgraced my family but I also knew there was no way I had run up enough debt to warrant my being disowned and basically exiled from my own home. My heart was like lead in my chest. I had to check to insure that it still beat.

I paid for my room and went up and locked the door behind me. I sat on the narrow bed and opened the chest. Inside I found 4000 guilders, a letter of recommendation signed by all my brothers to the Ambrosia fencing academy from which they had all graduated, and a sealed writ of death for Renaldo DeVache signed by our family surgeon and authorized by the local magistrate. I quickly looked over the recommendations to the Ambrosia school, they were all made out to Renaldo DeRicci. Slowly I took out the letter my mother had given me. I have had several encounters with Elysia; none ever went well to say the least. She was a hard woman given to glaring at me and whispering to my father. The glares were almost always for me. I never understood but I learned all I needed to from her note as I read it.

" Renaldo, You are not to blame for what fate has decreed for you. As with all family members who come of age I read the lines of fate and to see what can be known of their future. Usually these missives of the unknown are kept to myself but your fate had the potential to destroy everything our family has worked for. Too many lines of fate are tied to you but know this; the man who discovered you has the potential to destroy us all. He is an old business partner of your grandfathers who died in a shipwreck. He, by rights, should be dead. He has not been heard from in over 40 years. He is an evil man twisted by greed and hatred. Your grandfather made a deal with a demon to save the family fortune and it seemed that the fates smiled upon him when that very same demon died so many years ago. But now he has returned. You must not let this man live. He has influences that can destroy everything your family has worked to achieve over the past generations. When your fate was read I recommended that your father kill you immediately. Know this, you live simply because your parents love all their children too much to see any of them harmed. Much time and expense was taken providing for the falsification of your death. Take the new life you have been given and be well. If you wish to do any service to your family, find Bjorgsen and kill him. You can never return to what you were, but if the fates are true, you may become more than you ever would have been. Be well, the fates guide your path. Destroy this document as soon as you have read it." It was signed in her hand and dated one week after my 16th year.

My father had known for almost 2 years that I was possibly going to destroy our family. I still did not understand. The man I encountered in the bar did not move like a man of almost 80 years. This could not be the same man. But if it was not, who was it? If it was the same man, was he even a man?

I spent the next several weeks wandering lost. Finally I took the letters of recommendation and began study at an Ambrosia academy. I lived a meager life. I had a small, one-room apartment. I worked as a cook at night in an inn and spent long days with the sword by day. While I studied I met a friend; a gentleman who introduced me to a group devoted to service to its fellow man. Knights of the Order of the Rose and Cross. I took my vows as an apprentice only a few weeks later.

Finally I took the remains of my "inheritance" and began my search for the man who destroyed my life. I have heard nor seen nothing of the one who calls himself Bjorgsen Fell-hand. I heard rumors of an evil brigand, a pirate, who went masked at all times and was rumored to be horribly disfigured so I journeyed to Montainge in an attempt to confirm something solid and possibly set sail on a merchant ship to delve into the stories further. And that is where I am now. In Montaigne, alone and seeking to avenge myself on the man who has separated me from my family and still threatens their safety. But I am tired of my own prattle now. Perhaps I need a walk to clear my head. Maybe down by the docks? I saw the loveliest Jenny down there the other night.