About Veccio MezinasVeccio Mezinas
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Background: While not having the status of, for example, Aulamaxa or Tanessan, House Mezinas has enjoyed some position of power within Kintargo. While based primarily in Westcrown, Marsilio Mezinas, himself the youngest of four children, moved to Kintargo with his wife, Julia, in 4690 to establish a house presence. Six children of his own came soon after. His four sons and two daughters each grew up enjoying the comforts of nobility, having the advantage of money without being too heavily embroiled in the political mire – after all, House Mezinas were never the most influential house in Westcrown. In particular, the youngest child, Veccio, enjoyed his upbringing. He latched on easily to the teachings of Asmodeus, eagerly following the prominent faith. It was easy to see merit in the words of the priests, after all – he was in a position of power, which was convenient, and it sure would be nice if things were run better, right? But even as he proclaimed how wonderful the Prince of Hell was, he sought his own freedoms – in food, clothing, and company. When he was sixteen, one of the noble girls – a half-elven daughter of House Aulamaxa, who enchanted him as easily as any sorceress – chose him as an escort to the opera. While the performance was superb, it was she that caught his attention – her profile in the dim light, the curves of her smile, the smell of her perfume as she shifted in her seat next to him. She was as enrapturing as a celestial being, and he fell for her that night – hopelessly and foolishly. When she allowed him to kiss her on the hand as they parted, he felt as though he could fly. After that day, he took every opportunity he could to see Meliandri again. The two grew close, although whenever he attempted to profess his love, something would always come up. She’d have to powder her nose, or she heard a friend calling her (she had superb hearing; he never heard the voices of these friends, no matter how he tried – it must be an Elven thing). And she seemed to consort with other boys frequently, which was disappointing – but it just meant he had to try harder. During one heated conversation (she asked how he could so blatantly follow Asmodeus like a sheep [though with stronger words involving doing obscene things to various bodily parts], to which he’d responded that it was right and that Asmodeus looked after his followers), something new happened – he was proven wrong. Through a walk around the poorer parts of Kintargo, followed by an in-depth (yet passionate) breakdown of how these people followed Asmodeus, so why wasn’t he looking after them, his faith was shaken. Though he latched on to one word Meliandri let slip in the discussion – ‘Desna’. “Desna? What’s that?” he asked curiously. It mustn’t have been a good question; it was met by furious shushing and the subsequent dragging by his arm into an alleyway. (Which he didn’t mind; the way the shadows played upon her face was captivating.) There, in hushed tones, she explained that Desna was her goddess, the goddess of the sky and stars, of freedom and travel, of pursuing your own paths and dreams, no matter what others tried to tell you. “But you can’t tell anyvun,” she pleaded, before her desperate expression shifted, smoothly as a hand sweeping over a sheet, into her flirtatious smile. “It weel be our leetle secret,” she added, and he nodded eagerly in response. And so passed the next two years. The friendship solidified, and Meliandri seemed to always have a favour to ask – which, of course, he was always happy to provide. Some of them got him into a spot of trouble, yes, but surely that was just his own rotten luck? Perhaps he hadn’t pleased Desna enough. When House Thrune rooted their presence in Kintargo, including the establishment of martial law, things began to change quickly. First, Veccio found himself breaking curfew in one of his outings, but managed to escape the patrols by tearing across the rooftops (nearly breaking his neck in the process). Then, Meliandri met him fuming, announcing that Barizillai Thrune had moved into the opera house, effectively closing it for the foreseeable future. Her distress filled Veccio with rage; the opera house had been their first outing, after all, and to have it occupied as a private residence was a disgrace! Barzillai’s fourth proclamation came shortly after, and Veccio found himself being fined for wearing fine clothes – the same clothes he’d always worn, now limited to agents of Thrune or Asmodean clergy. After paying the fine (and subsequently being forced to keep to back alleys after being stripped of said clothes while he made his way home), he was careful not to make that mistake again. His anger at Thrune simmered below the surface, waiting for one more nudge. He saw it when a gang of street urchins spooked a horse, which panicked and tipped its wagon. Half a dozen sacks of grain spilled into the street. Time seemed to move in slow motion for Veccio as the farmer desperately tried to gather as much of the grain as he could, trying to avoid the consequences of the new fifth proclamation. Veccio tried to help, using his wool cloak to hold more of the product, but there was too much of it, and the street was too busy. The Dottari were on him within the hour. The farmer was charged with breaking the fifth proclamation. Veccio attempted to protest, citing the sheer quantity of the grain, but the law held firm. Unable to pay the fine, the man’s farm was forfeit. “This town needs heroes,” he later announced to Meliandri, pacing back and forth before her, visibly seething with rage. “These laws aren’t keeping people safe; they’re oppressive and plain unfair! We could escape,” he added suddenly, hope in his eyes. “We could go somewhere else, get away from all of this!” “Or,” Meliandri responded (as calm and observant as ever), “Zhere’s a protest next week against zee Thrune takeover – zee largest yet. I weel be going, and, well,” she smiled coyly, “I could use someone beeg and strong to look out for me.” The magic words worked as surely as any spell. They always would. Appearance: Veccio Mezinas is a tall Chelaxian man of nineteen years, six feet tall and a hundred and ninety pounds. He keeps his black hair short and combed with a wave on the left. He has a long sort of face, a slender jaw, and a thin, patchy mustache that frames his rosy lips. Long lashes surround his dark brown eyes, which are usually open in a state of near-perpetual alertness and frequent confusion. His figure is lean and toned, a result of athletic pursuits and fencing rather than brute strength and weapon drills, and his hands are on the long side, with smooth, almost feminine knuckles. Since the fourth proclamation, he’s found himself unable to wear embroidered clothing. As such, his red jacket, white shirt, and brown trousers have no fine trim, which he despises. He wears long leather gloves and tall boots, sturdy and well-worn with use. For the day of the protest, he’s picked up a chain shirt which he hasn’t learned to move properly in, finding it all rather stiff, and wears his cup-hilt rapier on his belt. Personality: Veccio is an honest young man, genuine and friendly, though possessed of a fiery temper when angered. He’s open to new people and ideas, though perhaps too trusting of the former and not critical enough of the latter. To his friends, he is a staunch ally; to his enemies, a furious nuisance. In his attempts to win Mel’s affections, he is prone to taking great risks and dares, challenging any who would seek to harm her, regardless of whether Mel actually wants him to or not. He follows her like a puppy, irrevocably smitten and determined to protect her, convinced that he simply needs to be better for her so that she’ll recognize the depths of his love. Veccio is also foolish, not always understanding the intent of one’s words or picking up on sarcasm, leaping into action over a perceived slight or suggested plan. Yet despite his shortcomings, he’s determined to see this city put right, once and for all. |
