Damianus

The Story

• Damianus was born in 1451 on the now Greek island of Samos, in the town that would come to be known as Charavagi. At that time the island was a territory of the Republic of Genoa, a generously inhabited place with bustling metropolises and successful, rich trades through the Aegean Sea that surrounded it.
  
  Ian doesn’t really speak much about his childhood, usually giving the vague statement that it was happy. His mother was a Circassian beauty named Nasreen who had been stolen from her homeland of Dagestan, located in the North Caucasus region. She had been enslaved and shipped across Georgia, the Black Sea, and a large part of Turkey, before a wealthy merchant named Emin bought her in Izmir and brought her back to Samos Island to be one of his mistresses and servant.
  
  When he was born, his mother gave him the name Firuz. Then Emin, believing the child to be his, gave him the name Eren, ending up with the full name Eren-Firuz. He was an incredibly loved child and he grew up in relative luxury for that time, doted upon and educated, even cared for by Emin’s true wife, Damali, who had only ever been able to give her husband daughters. So Eren-Firuz was trained to follow in Emin’s footsteps. His predetermined path was to become a merchant and eventually take over Emin’s fleet of cargo ships.
  
  At 16, he was a very handsome youth, sometimes taking advantage of his looks with the girls in the cities he would visit. He had a reputation for being irresponsible where females were involved, but being as shrewd a businessman as his father. Somewhere in there grew a strange love of fighting that neither his parents particularly cared for, but sometimes came in handy. More than once did he have to raise a hand to cretins and thieves while traveling with his father.
  
  At 20, much to the pleasure of his family, he married a girl from another well-to-do family named Aglaia. It had been love at first sight, almost over night Eren had reformed from the street fighting, girl chasing boy that made his father roll his eyes at the foolishness of youth, to a young man trying to hold himself to the standards that were expected of him. Soon, he found himself with two sons and another on the way, surrounded by family and prosperity; he knew life had been good to him and he felt invincible, strong enough to stand up against anything.
  
  It would only take four years to prove him wrong.
  

  ---

  
  In 1475, just as Eren turned 24, Samos was attacked and by 1479 it had been completely overtaken by the Ottomans. The time in-between was filled with chaos, strife, and loss for everyone who lived on the island. Piracy was first, the main cities of the island and their ports constantly under siege… then came famine, inevitably followed by plague. As more people died and more attacks came, people began to leave. Eren and Emin tried to keep their trade strong, loosing few ships to pirates by keeping them bare, trying to stay ahead of the sickness by staying out of the city as much as possible… but good luck only lasts for so long. Especially if you refuse to leave while watching said good luck run out.
  
  Emin and Damali were the first to die. Emin ran afoul of the pirates he had so long been able to outrun… and Damali died of a fever shortly after. Eren’s mother, Nasreen, had insisted it was heartbreak. However, Eren’s fears were shortly confirmed when his wife and children caught the illness. Sickness had finally arrived at their door. While oddly immune to the disease, Eren watched in horror and helplessness as his children slowly succumbed, slipping right through his fingers, even though he held onto their small hands… finally, Aglaia followed them, leaving Eren and his mother alone.
  
  It was almost too much to endure. When finally Nasreen fell ill, Eren felt he could not endure any more. Sitting next to his mother, he cried for the first time in his life. When his children had died, he did not cry, trying to be strong for Aglaia. When Aglaia died, he did not cry, because he was trying to be strong for himself. Now though, that his mother lay dying, he couldn’t find the strength to do anything… so he cried. Nasreen could only watch him quietly, knowing her time was near. She had reserved her strength for her last act. A secret. A truth she had been keeping hidden for over two decades.
  
  As she lay dying, she whispered to him that while Emin had loved him as a son… and Eren had loved him as a father… they had no such bond by blood. At first, Eren thought she was delirious with fever… but her eyes were clear, and her voice did not break. She whispered of a man so beautiful that she had fallen in love with him before her heart could take a second beat. He had come in with the ships, and was gone just as fast as he had arrived, leaving her with a child to love. She asked if he had ever wondered why he did not look more like Emin. His pale skin and blue eyes where so out of place. In truth, Eren had never thought about it… no one had ever disputed it. Nasreen had always been faithful to Emin and Damali. Now, faced with the truth… he couldn’t stop seeing the differences.
  
  With her last breath, Nasreen murmured the name; ‘Araska’ and Eren watched her eyes close as her chest stilled. The small weak flutter of her pulse beneath his fingers faded to nothing, and he was alone. He couldn’t handle the silence and he couldn’t handle the staggering weight of the truth. He ran from his home on the hill, ran down the path to the beach, and fell in the sand at the shore of the Aegean. Laying in the sand, the water rushing up around him with ever wave, Eren starred up at the sky. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t really think, the only thing he could pull from the chaos was the name Araska. Which he just kept repeating in his mind.
  
  Finally, as if overcome by some other force, he rolled onto his stomach and slowly crawled deeper into the water. He let the waves pull him out and under, enveloped in the heavy silence of the waters. He didn’t fight the burning in his lungs, as he sank deeper. He just starred up at the radiant full moon, distorted by the moving sea’s surface and the last bubbles to slip past his lips. Finally, his eyes began to slide closed when a black shadow blocked the light from the surface. He had surrendered life just as a strong hand grasped the neck of his tunic, but so close to death, he let consciousness go.
  
  The sunlight was what woke him. Hot on his pale skin. When he opened his eyes, he thought he was going to go blind, and immediately flipped over. Hiding his face against sand. He realized he was still on the beach… and he wasn’t alone. He couldn’t see, but somehow he could feel the presence next to him. It was like a prickling on his skin, like ice and fire, close enough to feel the radiating coolness or heat. The closer it came, the stronger it felt. Finally pushing himself up, he opened his eyes, focusing on the sand. Immediately… he was overloaded with visual stimulation.
  
  His sight had become so sharp that he could see each individual grain before him in stark relief. As that sank in, he realized, he could feel every granule between his fingers and as he dug into the sand, he could distinctly tell how many there were from touch alone. He could feel every thread in the stiff linen of his tunic, dried with the salt of the sea in it. He could taste the salt and earth on his lips, the different minerals present… each distinct to his senses.
  
  Lost in the revelations, he nearly forgot the man sitting next to him. When he finally looked, he nearly fell back in a scramble to get away from him. The man sitting next to him was no man that he had ever seen. Dark haired and pale skinned, with sharp blue eyes that seemed to glow, even in the mid morning sun. He tried to get away, but his body was disagreeing. Movement that once required no thought suddenly required a great deal… because the strength in his body had more than tripled. He could hardly stand, seeming to put too much force into the effort and ultimately ending right back on the ground where he had started. The man didn’t move though. He offered neither help nor assurance. He simply watched Eren in his panic.
  
  Finally, as Eren stilled, sitting on his knees and starring at the creature from what felt like a safe distance, he heard a deep voice that was so clear, he might as well have been speaking in his ear, “When I felt the call… I thought some sorceress was trying to summon me. Imagine my surprise when I come to find no one in a house that smells of death… and the pull of a fading life linked to mine.” Eren starred at him, watching his lips move as he spoke. When he said nothing else, Eren quietly tried to ask, “Are you Arask---”, he was unable to finish the name, suddenly finding himself on his back with a strong hand covering his mouth, the man’s fingertips digging painfully into his cheeks, “You will never say that name again.”
  
  Eren’s eyes widened. The statement was clearly meant to be an order… but felt a great deal like a threat. He found he could only nod, as far as the grip of Araska’s hand would allow anyway, the man continued, his voice low as he starred down into Eren’s eyes. “From now on, you will only call me Rasa.” He paused for a moment and his eyes searched the younger’s face, looking for something that was hidden there. Finally, almost in a whisper Rasa finally let go of him and said, “You do not know our ways, but you are going to learn them, Damianus.”
  
  Instantly it was as if someone had punched him in the center of his chest… or reached into and squeezed his heart until it couldn’t beat. Eren gasped for air as he clutched at his chest, trying in vain to stop the sensation. Rasa only stood then reached down to pull the young man to his feet. “That was your first lesson,” he said darkly, “A true name has power. Never give it away freely to anyone but your blood.” Eren, still breathing heavily, shot Rasa a look that was full of spite. Rasa only tilted his head and smiled, the effect was brilliant, “Is that any way to look at your father?”
  

  ---

  
  Over the next several decades, Rasa stayed on Samos with his son. He banished his old life, removing even his name, and calling him Ian. The set about teaching him the ways of those called the Daeva of Ahriman. Though Rasa was a harsh male, he showed a great deal of pride in his son. Ian had warranted a true name and through his lessons he had learned that not all cambion received them, since the blood of the supernatural parent was often too weak for one to manifest. However, Araska was old… an Arch-Daeva of antiquity. The Daeva associated with vengeance. The power of his blood was so immense, that not only had it given his half human son a true name, but it had also manifested physical powers, triggered by Ian’s brush with death. It was much to learn.
  
  In the century that Samos laid desolate, Rasa kept his son confined to the island. Teaching him, training him, forging a new person out of him. He wanted a son as strong as his lineage boasted. He ruled over his son’s every waking moment. Conditioning him to have no fear of lesser beings, but have wariness of the many things that were still unknown. He demanded excellence and intelligence, often trying to trick his son into terrifying situations to test his mental fortitude. He was not a good or kind father, but he was a solid foundation for Ian to rebuild the shattered pieces of his life. He was hard, because his son was strong. He wanted him to be capable as well.
  
  Finally, on Ian’s one hundred and twenty fourth birthday, he awoke to silence. Rasa had gone, leaving nothing but a piece of polished stone on a table, with the word, “Live” carved in it. With the freedom now to leave Samos… Ian decided to do just that. Live.
  

  ---

  
  Fast forward a few hundred years, and one would find Ian in Europe. His face and body just as they were the night Araska pulled him from the sea. His personality though, seemed to be very much changed. In some ways, he had reverted back to how he lived as a teenager. Living reckless and violently. Chasing women, even those who were taken, only to leave them after he had his fill. He had a love of fast machines and technology. Motorcycles, cars, planes, anything he could take apart and put back together was fair game. It didn’t matter how he obtained it either. How he made money was sometimes legal… often times not. Betting, cheating, and winning were skills he excelled at. Stealing was another he had carefully cultivated, until he stole from the wrong male.
  
  When Ian met Z, it was at the business end of a Ruger SR45 while Ian was trying to wire a black Chevelle parked near a known supernatural hotspot. He hadn’t know who the car belonged to, he hadn’t particularly cared, he was just hired to get it. The demon that had greeted him from outside the drivers door hadn’t looked entirely surprised to see him, but he did he look particularly annoyed at what he’d done to the instrument panel in his car. The night didn’t end like he thought it was going to. Starring up at a demon that crackled with energy and strength, he had resigned himself to a lost fight before it had even begun… but he couldn’t say if he had given up because he knew he couldn’t win, or if he had let himself be caught. After all, he had the ability to dematerialize at will. He could have vanished from the seat if he wanted…
  
  Years of living fast and loose had let him escape some of the stigma of being a Cambion; half-breed was what many called him, even though they were usually no more pure blooded than he was. He had exercised his abilities to show his strength, but in doing so he only distanced himself more. He couldn’t live with the fragility of average humans, and he couldn’t live with the average supernatural creatures that ran the streets. In the end, Rasa’s hard learned lessons had never erased his pain and loss. His human side still hurt and the hurt had grown into bitterness over the centuries. With no family to call home, he had grown cold, angry, and violent.
  
  Ian couldn’t say at what point he realized all of this. Just that, somehow, Z was able to get through to him. The demon took him in and began to show him that life didn’t need to be so miserable. He became apart of a new family, a family of different supernatural entities that didn’t feel they fit into any one part of the world they lived in. Over long years of trial and error, in the struggle of relearning how to live with emotion and trust, Ian still isn’t back to what most would consider ‘normal’. He’s become slightly more affectionate, but only with the family he’s lived with over the last century. He has a hard time opening up to people if they haven’t come to him through someone he trusts.
  
  Today he spends his time helping his boys to help others, working hard, running the security company from behind the scenes. He’s been able to put his abilities and skills to use, trying to repay some of the damage he has done over time. In his mind, he hasn’t repaid nearly enough, but like anyone with a deep sense of regret, he finds ways to punish himself. Despite those that love him trying to stop him, he can’t help feeling the self-punishment is the only way to hold himself together.

• Connections

  Friends

  Aria (played anonymously)

  Dunn Kelaney (played anonymously)

  Szasha (played anonymously)

  Maalik-Majid (played anonymously)

  Mauricius (played anonymously)

  Rukichi (played anonymously)

  Izabet (played anonymously)

  Kamramira (played anonymously)

  Samil (played anonymously)

  Daneil Raske (played anonymously)

  Aeronicius (played anonymously)

  Dahlia Leighton (played anonymously)

  Kappiataitok (played anonymously)

  Acquaintance

  Ilona Ciprian (played anonymously)

  Dr Evelyn Via-Cabrera (played anonymously)

  Sabine Reine (played anonymously)

  Moira Emer (played anonymously)