((OoC: yep, random title, whatever. but anyway, I went on ahead and did the bandit thing you mentioned. I think that sets this all up well enough. =D ))

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He had awoken with sand in his hair, on his face, and really completely all over him. Sand seemed to have been sewn into the very fabric of the once noble, white dress shirt, but that was hardly what it looked like now. Now, it was nothing more than a tattered, almost useless rag, and he had no idea how such a thing had happened. His pale skin was completely revealed, along with the black, spiraling markings that started at his shoulders and traced downwards. He had yet to notice the designs though, as he had no mirror and didn’t even know that they were there. It had taken him a while to get the sand off of his face, and there were still traces of it scattered across his cheeks and a few particles in his eyes that he couldn’t feel. There was slight discomfort, but he was blaming that on the sun.

Nikkolai had been wandering aimlessly now for an extended period of time, to the point where he really didn’t know where he was going. At first he had awoken with a purpose, a need to do something and drive, even though he had not known what it was that he was supposed to do or be doing, but now that had washed away to nothingness and he was left empty. There was no recollection of a time before now; there was no recollection of anything more than his name and his race and a few vague things that pounded inside his brain, begging to be recognized but only receiving his annoyance. Nikkolai knew nothing more than what he did now, though. For all he knew, life had always been like this and life had just started. Was this even life? He didn’t know…

As he continued through on his journey to nowhere, a glimmer in the distance caught his blue eyes and he stared at it, unmoving, his feet sinking into the soft earth beneath his feet. He tilted his head, the wind taking his hair and thrusting it over his face. Patiently he lifted a hand and moved the blonde locks out of his sight before he began running. He knew basic needs… he knew that it was water and for whatever reason, he needed it. Beads of sweat rolled down his temple until he reached the oasis, heaving for breath and feeling a bit dizzy. There was no pain, though, but he wasn’t even aware that there was such a thing as pain. Nikkolai was oblivious to his disorder, to his inability to feel physical pain, but such a thing was so unimportant right now.

There was little life here, but he was hardly paying attention. He bent down, hands cupped, ready to scoop up the water when he heard someone walking over to him. Immediately, almost as if not by his own accord, Nikkolai straightened and looked up about a foot into the eyes of the man that towered over him, not giving him much personal space. “Yes?” the young man asked quietly, awaiting whatever he had to say.

A rough hand grasped his left shoulder, keeping his fragile body in place. “Are you Nikkolai Virendra?” The voice was blunt, clear, crisp and to the point, eyes narrowed. Apparently he wasn’t a patient man.

“Y… Yes…” Nikkolai replied, glancing at the huge hand resting on his bony shoulder. His eyes shot back to look at the man and then behind him, where others were approaching.

“He said you would be here… good.” A wide, sadistic grin spread over his face and he pulled something sharp from his pocket, holding it up into the sunlight. Nikkolai squinted as the bright light reflected into his eyes, feeling nothing more than discomfort. The cold metal of the dagger was brought to the flesh of his neck and his eyes widened at the sudden coolness. The blade was then moved to his right shoulder where it found a tear in his shirt, sinking into the flesh and allowing the blood to pour free. Nikkolai didn’t even flinch and instead looked at his shoulder, head tilting slightly.

The bandit’s face contorted before he lifted a knee to kick Nikkolai in the stomach, sending him back due to his size. “And he also said that might happen.” The dagger was sheathed and a sword took its place in the bandit’s hand. The large men walked closer to Nikkolai, each of their steps menacing and slow, while the fairy simply laid there sprawled out, completely confused and a bit afraid of what was happening.

Nikkolai. How sad, the fae can't even hold his own. Yaksha's voice rang out from next to Nikki, full of pity and sorrow. I remember when you could've slain these fools with a glare. What could've been mistaken as a heat shimmer materialized, a man standing before Nikkolai, smiling genially. A pair of perfectly manicured hands, a suit ironed meticulously, and a grin that would shame a shark. He had in his hand a skull-tipped cane, which he leaning upon. "Guess there's no choice." Yaksha turned to Nikkolai, and tipped his tophat just slightly askew. "Stand back. This'll be messy."

Yaksha walked forward, and his genial grin had deteriorated into a dark rictus. "Okay, let's make this quick. I'd rather not get my suit too wrinkled." The bandit snarled, and lunged, slashing at his chest. Yaksha grabbed the blade, a few droplets of blood coming from his hand. He laughed dryly, and kicked him back. "That the best you got?"

The bandit growled at Yaksha, and slashed at him. Yaksha danced aside, and then seemed to glide forward, his cane flashing in the glare of the sun. The bandit let out a wounded mewl, not even a shout of pain. A burst of bone, perfectly white, was poking out from the skin, and there was a single dot of blood in the middle of she skull, like some precious gem that had melted in the desert heat. Yaksha's voice has turned soft, and overly sympathetic. "Oh, did I smash your ulna? Poor boy..."

The bandit rose his head, and wheezed in bestial rage. "Shut...up! I'll slaughter you both!" Yaksha shook his head patronizingly, and his cane shot forward, striking his leg. The bandit let out a thin hiss, and Yaksha was already behind him, striking the back of his knees svagely. The bandit fell, and Yaksha's rictus had grown even dark, into a savage grin of pure sadism. "Good bye." His cane fell on the small of his back, and a large crack rang through the desert. The bandit slumped forward, most likely dead.

Yaksha turned to Nikki, and made a deep, sweeping bow. "It's been ages, Nikkolai. I've spent so long looking for you..." He embraced Nikki tightly, as one would an old friend. He whispered softly in his ear, his voice thick with sorrow and loss. "So long it has been, since we have met." He finally stepped back, then looked at him for a second, his smile fading, his voice turning strict and all business. "You broke the rules, Nikkolai. Unforgivable."

Nikkolai’s eyes went wide when he heard the voice. He looked up at the man who had so suddenly appeared, shaking slightly out of fear. He had absolutely no idea what was going on! What was going on? Why had they been so mean to him, what was going to be messy? When told to get out of the way, Nikkolai stood to his feet quickly, finding that it was difficult to bend his arm at certain angles for whatever reason. Nevertheless, he stood and backed away from them, uncertain and feeling overwhelmed to the point where he simply wanted to break down.

His head tilted when he heard the bandit scream like that. It was a feeling that he couldn’t remember experiencing in what little time he had been awake, or rather perhaps what little time he had been alive. Those facts still plagued him… well; they weren’t really facts, but something else that he couldn’t quite name. He was having trouble naming anything right now. To name something as complicated as an emotion he couldn’t comprehend or whether reality was real or not was something he didn’t want to touch right now. There were more important matters at hand, such as the fact that whoever this mysterious man was, he had taken care of the bandit. A single word issued through his brain. Dead. The thought made him shudder involuntarily, but the trembling had stopped. He knew by definition that it was the opposite of being alive… but that was just by definition. He wasn’t sure what it really meant, to be dead, but something told him that bandit would never hurt either of them again.

"It's been ages, Nikkolai. I've spent so long looking for you..."

Lightly the fairy yelped as he was taken into the other’s arms. Methodically, his own arms rose to return the gesture, a bit of a smile curving his lips upward. He wasn’t all too sure what it meant, but something told him it was something of kindness. “You know my name…?” he asked quietly, his blonde eyebrows lifting a bit. Nikkolai had never seen the man before, so he wasn’t sure how that was possible, but that other man had known him as well. “How?”

The man’s smile faded then, causing Nikkolai’s face to do the same thing. The mood had suddenly changed and his arms fell to his sides, uncertain how to react. When breaking the rules was mentioned, there was a cracking sound in his head, his eyes widening along with it. There was something faint, something so vague that it was hardly tangible and so far back that it could never be touched. That same voice told him that to break the rules was a sin, though, something frowned upon and detestable. To break the rules was to be shunned, to be denied affection or compassion. Nikkolai bit his lower lip; such a simple statement caused such internal conflict that he wasn’t sure what to do. “Broke… the rules…” he repeated softly, looking up at him. “I… I didn’t mean to… I don’t even know what I did…! … Can I fix it? I… I’m sorry…” His voice trembled and his eyes searched for forgiveness, even though he knew it wouldn’t be given. Nikkolai didn’t know how he knew something like that when he didn’t even know where he was or who this man was, but it felt like it had been drilled into his brain to the point where he would never forget.

Yaksha's hands were stuck in his pockets. "It's not you, Nikkolai. It's the RULES that are unforgivable. Even the most reprehensible of crimes has extenuating circumstances." He whirled on the ball of his foot, and knelt before Nikki. "Name's Yaksha. I bet that'll click after a bit." He pushed off from the ground, and spun his cane.

After a moment, he smiled, and pulled him closer. "When the rules will not allow a man to defend that which he holds dear, the rules are to blame, not the man. Were the ones against crucifying jesus wrong, Nikki?" He had a genial grin on his face, and he was obviously toying with Nikki, and loving every second of it....

The rules were unforgiveable? “But rules are necessary,” he said, the words not sounding like his own. That, too, had been drilled into his mind. “Rules protect the people. Rules prevent chaos and destruction.” He sounded like The Council, now, but it wasn’t like he remembered them. If he had remembered them, he would have completely agreed with Yaksha. He would have been bitter, callous and filled with hate, not lighthearted and confused as he currently was. Overall, though, if he remembered The Council or anything about his old home, he wouldn’t have been in Imythess. No one was released, especially in Nikkolai’s case, until they were completely stripped of their memories and anything and everything they held dear.

“Yaksha…” he repeated, testing the name on his tongue. His eyebrows furrowed, trying to see if he could dig past the wall that couldn’t be penetrated. “Why would it need to… ‘click’, as you say?” He tilted his head once again, unsure what the metaphor was supposed to mean. “Should I know you?” He had only been around for a short time and had most definitely not seen this man before. How could he possibly know him, even if he was supposed to?

"When the rules will not allow a man to defend that which he holds dear, the rules are to blame, not the man. Were the ones against crucifying jesus wrong, Nikki?"

Nikkolai’s head was reeling in confusion. Every work this Yaksha said confused him, perplexed him to the point where he thought he couldn’t breathe. “I… I don’t know… were they wrong? I’m sorry… I don’t know what you’re talking about… or what you mean when you talk about something dear… or anything…” Nikkolai whined softly and shook his head. It was too much to take at once. Had it been a little bit at a time, then maybe he could have dealt with it, but right now there was no way of handling this sudden pressure. He felt like he should know this, even though at the same time the voice warned him to never find out, warned him to run if he had any hopes of saving his soul. Still, though, this talk enticed him – he couldn’t do as the voice told him, and was unsure whether or not that would result in something terrible as of now.

"The rules INCITE chaos and destruction, Nikki. The rules took your wife and your children from you." He then gasped, seeming shocked. "Should it click? Tell me, Nikkolai, how old do you think you are?" He stood expectantly, a taunting smile on his face. There was a knowing twinkle in his eyes, and he stood before nikki, watching his mind getting close to supernova.

His eyes went wide. “My what…?” The idea of a wife, and children for that matter, came across as a complete surprise. He knew what they were by definition, but he couldn’t even imagine actually having such things. He didn’t know them, he didn’t remember them, he had never even fathomed that it was possible. “I think you’re mistaken… I’m not married… I’m not a father…” Nikkolai shook his head. As much as he wanted to believe this person, he couldn’t very well believe someone when they said things that didn’t match what he already knew.

"Should it click? Tell me, Nikkolai, how old do you think you are?"

The fairy tilted his head to the side, simply staring up at him. This was something he was supposed to know, wasn’t it? He was silent, though, since the number that came into his mind wasn’t making very much sense. From what he knew, people weren’t supposed to live that long. Was he dead? Was that why he didn’t remember? “132…” he said quietly, his eyebrows furrowed. “But that doesn’t make sense…”

Nikkolai bit the inside of his lip, his knees beginning to shake. “What’s wrong with me…?” he asked quietly. This stranger knew more about him than he did. He knew about a wife, children, breaking rules, and yet Nikkolai had no recollection of that. The only logical answers were that he was either dead or Yaksha was completely and utterly correct and that his words were not to be questioned.

"You're 132, eh? Tell me, Nikkolai, do you have any recollection of ANYTHING recent in your life? Birthdays, your job, anything of the like? Do you even, for instance, know if you're a normal human?" He began to prance around Nikki, his voice growing more esctatic and gleeful. "You don't do you? You can't remember anything, because They don't want you to! Surely even you can realize someone's been tampering with your head!"

“… Surely even you can realize someone's been tampering with your head!"

Nikkolai finally just fell to the ground, resting on his knees and feeling completely lost, hopeless, and helpless. He didn’t understand! He didn’t understand any of this! None of it made sense. He was 132, he had a wife, children even, yet he broke the rules and apparently in some time called ‘before’ he would have been able to kill people just by looking at them. Nikkolai was shaking, grasping at the sand with his fists.

“But… but Yaksha, who would do that?” he asked, still looking up at him. “Who would want to mess with my head? 132 years and I don’t remember anything… is that what it is? Someone… took my memories? I broke the rules, you said I did… but what rules?! Where?! Where… what did I do… why can’t I understand?!” Nikkolai continued to shake; just wishing Yaksha would tell him.

"All things in time, Nikkolai. Come to this address, and we shall continue our chat. For now, I've my own business to attend to." He slipped him a sheet of paper, his smile warm and inviting. "When you get to Taras, ask someone to show you the address. I'll be waiting." He whirled on the spot, his cloak billowing out, and when it passed, he had vanished....