Idris Nighthill

Overview
Full biography found here.

Appearance
Hair: Long/Wavy Raven Black

Skin: Tanned

Eyes: Orange Brown (Similar in color to a Lions)

Height: 6’0

Weight: 185Ibs

Markings/Noticeable Features:


 * Prosthetic left hand
 * Faint scar across his throat
 * Black Inked Tattoos, telling the story of his trade, common to Sky Ship Aviators.
 * One freshly healed cut across the bridge of his nose reaching to his cheeks.
 * Five old gunshot wounds: Upper right side of chest, left side of stomach, Two in upper thigh of Left leg, One upper right shoulder.
 * Gold plated canines, Top and bottom.

Personality
Idris sees life as a game. A game on a massive scale, every action or word spoken to another; a piece played on a giant chess board. He is direct with his words, cold in expression/tone, and calculated with choices. However, his persona outside the comfort of his vessel is portrayed to be notoriously ruthless, greedy, blood hungry, and ill tempered. He’s used to wearing his face as a mask. To assume the role that the paper will tell,  to be the monster they desired to further his and his crews renown. His true colors only show to those whom he calls crew and friends.

Abilities & Proficiencies

 * Aerokinesis: (High Altitude breathing, Bullet manipulation(Can alter course of bullets or Make them more accurate. Note: Bullets do not act as heat seeking when manipulated),


 * Professional Marksmanship
 * Swordsmanship
 * Aviation
 * Tactician
 * Appraisal
 * Bartering
 * Interrogation
 * Leadership

History
December 10,1801

First Entry

The Scarlet Emissary

Captain Idris Nighthill

I’m not sure where to start. I am not sure if anyone will ever read these words; if you are my dear reader, I thank you. A book can be as dangerous as any journey you might take. The person who closes the back cover may not be the same one that opened the front one. Treat them with respect, treat me with respect. I am no writer, nor poet, or scribe. In truth, I am no one. The papers will describe me to be a vile murderer, to place a bullet or blade with the slightest provocation. To take without disregard. Your storied villain, more monster than human.

But they are wrong. This is where the wise man turns away from the page. These are the last miles, my brothers and sisters. Do not look to me to save you. Do not think I will not spend you. Run if you have the wit. Pray if you have the soul. Stand your ground if courage is yours. But do not follow me. Follow me, and I will break your heart

(The ink is deeper and splotched, as if his pen held in places too long).

My name is Idris Nighthill. Captain of The Scarlet Emissary. Crimson Prince, The Scarlets Bastard. Names given to me at the age of twelve, when I took captaincy of my Lady Scarlet. Since memories could be formed, the Lady Scarlet was my home, my school, my life. As a child, I found comfort in her body. The way the wind whipped against the decks and slipped effortlessly against her curves. The moistness of the cloud particles as she parted them. The auroras dancing across the night skies, reflecting off her brass. I was born for her.

My days were spent year by year, learning to navigate her through the sky, work her decks, and maintain her functions. At the age of seven I was able to chart courses, read the stars, and knew the laws aeronautical navigation. I learned quick, about the men that inhabited her, the color of Scarlets sails, and the hoisted flag. A standard that represented no allegiance, save themselves. This was a lawless vessel. Under my father’s tutelage, I was trained rigorously in the art of sabre and flint till it was an extension of myself.

At the age of nine, I took my first life. A cabin boy on a trade vessel, no older than I. They had mustered up a beaten sword for him. I remember his face, dirty and scared. To this day, he still holds the record of my farthest shot. Combat in the sky with wind gusts high, shifting altitudes and constant changes of wind direction, long range combat with small arms is nearly impossible. Not for me. The wind, had a love for me. I pulled the trigger, the wind made it so. Sighting down the scope, I watched the boys shirt turn red and the look in his eyes as he recognized his own expiration. I felt nothing for it, but the achievement.

Life has ways of getting under your skin, spoiling your fun with too much information. Youth is truly the happiest time where we roll in the bliss of ignorance. As a child there was a horror in discovering the limitations of the ones you love. The time you find that your mother cannot keep you safe, that your instructor makes a mistake, that the wrong path must be taken because the adults lack the strength to take the right one...each of those moments is the theft of your childhood, each of them a blow that kills some part of the Innocence you were, leaving another part of the man exposed, a new creature, tougher but tempered with bitterness and disappointment. When father beat her, mother wouldn't hold her peace, so he slit her throat. I was stupid then, being only twelve, and I fought to save them both. But pain can hold you. I've learned to appreciate the whip since. The lash taught me the game. They let me understand what all those grim and serious men who've fought, have yet to learn. You can only win the game when you understand that it IS a game.

The second life I took, belonged to my fathers. The night of my mothers cremation, I delivered a lead shot to his brain whilst he slept. Sometimes, I wish I’d taken my time. Though, I’ll admit I never would have fought him fairly. The morning bell woke the crew to the sight of Captain Crux Nighthill, The Red Wolfs,  severed head resting on His  ornate captains desk. I stood behind it.For my mother or for myself, sometimes those lines always blurred. True intentions can be a fickle thing. I claimed my birthright. Three generations of Nighthills commanded the Scarlet. This Ship had a reputation amongst aviators, the ship. Captains fell to the side when it came to legends about her.

My take of the Con, took some convincing. While most of my fathers men kept loyal to the code. A handful, remained resistant. I can't  say I blamed them, what does a child know of leading murderers? I learned from my father, that sometimes killing your own men was necessary. Just make sure to keep enough of the crew alive, you need a crew to lead one.

Those who opposed me, found themselves plummeting a long way to a quick stop. With my Scarlets corruption now purified. I found friendship in the only person  my father had trusted. Who I trusted. Alastair Cloud, the first mate to this day. He taught me what my father never had. How to lead, when to give the whip or the fall, morality of men,and the respect for the crew. At times I like to take credit for my own make, but even if it was all his. I don't think I'd like to meet the me, without his guidance.

I'm 28 years old now. I have destroyed, Stolen, murdered, taken, and ravaged the skies since. After seeing so much, you learn that knowledge is a rug of a certain size, and the world is larger. It’s not what remains uncovered at the edges that should worry you, rather what is swept beneath.This world, something is terribly sick with it. Sometimes a great ocean is in need of a stirring. Sometimes a single drop can displace an entire surface, I will make it rain.

First entry,

END.