Guardian Rising Character Profile: Blake Fenris

Race: Western Elf

Guardian Beast: Phoenix

Title: Nightwalker

Country of Origin: Solaria

Eye Color: Flare Orange

Hair Color/Style: Dark brown hair. Generic long haircut. Nothing special.

Blood type: O-

Age: 19 (currently)

Profession: Alliance Agent, Leader of Black Raven Assassin Squad,

Hobbies: Basket-Ball, Fencing, Tennis, Running, theft, assassinations, Gaming, Reading (mostly non-fiction, fantasy fiction, and mythology), training exercises,

In his words:

It takes nerves to be an assassin. You have to be able to kill in silence, leave no trace behind, and leave just as swiftly as you came. You can't empathize with the victim, for it only makes a kill harder to execute. When you empathize, you go soft. When you go soft, you make mistakes. In this world, and with this job, mistakes mean death.

I must live the life of a hero, and that of a killer. I must be able to switch between a caring personality, and that of a sociopath.

When I took this life, I knew there was no turning back. When I became an assassin, I had already lost everything. I cast away the mirage of modern society long ago. I had to carry on my family legacy, which is why I couldn't bear this shameful past.

Every night, when everyone else in the manor is asleep, when nothing answers my cry but the cold silence of night, I open that drawer, and take out those treasures; jewels from the monsters I hunt, gifts of their love.I would always stare at all these memories i had collected in the form of rings, necklaces, cards, and all these other gifts, wondering how my life could have been.

They say in Eastern mythology, the Phoenix is a symbol of virtue and grace. They also say that it is the symbol of the woman. Grace and virtue... I had given up on these long ago, yet they always came back to haunt me in some other way. No assassin kills without grace. No hero lives without virtue. Between such conflicting truths, where do I stand?

I can tell you one thing; wherever it is I stand, it is not where I want to be. Wherever I stand, I am expected to carry on the duties on a governmental agent, as well as the cold, sinful burden of an assassin. Wherever it is I stand, I am expected to stand as a man who will not falter to his weaknesses.

Yet, every night, when everyone is asleep, when I am done pondering how my life could have been, I pull out a small chest from the back of my closet, and mourn what my life once was.

Even to this day, I can still feel that very same corset around my waist. I has grown with me, spawning a newly found shame. At the very bottom of the box, and small pair of black ballet shoes sit there, collecting dust...