Rodaidh the Hand of the Unseen, Bandit King of Hamsah Mu'tazz, Imperial Shadow Lord

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Role

Chapter 2

Tileza and The Zanzar were gone. At times it seemed as if they had been forgotten
entirely as well. Their contributions to the Empire remained though, Rodaidh forced
himself to remember that continually. They had set down their marks within the Grand
Design for time immemorial. Their efforts and the endeavors of those that came before
them were the foundation for him to build his legacy upon. He wondered how long after
his passing that his contribution to the Design would remain evident before it flowed
away into the intricacies of the pattern, swallowed up by time, forgotten.
The details matter, was his mantra. Though overlooked by most, if they were not seen
to, and seen to correctly, the whole would crumble, whether it be the way a rope was
carefully looped around it self at a precise angle for a turn in a truss knot, or the
precise amount of mortar used between each brick and stone to make the Imperial Road
appear seemless as it was laid down by the workers forever ago when it was
constructed. Nearly all of his fellow citizens gave him the impression though that
they were oblivious to the complexities required to build upon the accomplishments of
the countless citizens that had come before them. Their actions, in his mind, made it
appear rather that they had only their own indulgences in mind. Appeasing one's own
desire is well and good he thought, having the capacity to see how the details create
the greater whole though, that allowed for that self satisfaction to increase by
orders of magnitude.

All these thoughts, Rodaidh had shared in prayer to his god Destuvius. Continually.
In quiet visits to the grounds of the Divine Asylum he studied the writings of his
predecessors in effort to gain deeper understanding of the way the mind of his
immortal crafted each thought. Being able to perceive the details and then how best
to make use of the understanding had allowed him to achieve a seat at the council
table. Rodaidh knew further achievement would require much more profound perception
on his part, but he also knew he had the will to put that perception to use through
action. His skill with cords was well honed, his resolution to bring glory to his
god Destuvius was even sharper.

Role

Chapter 1

Rodaidh watched as the slave trader rode off with those who had met them, as
Zanzar had arranged. Zanzar was good at these things, he had learned that
well over time. The trader would head south for two days, then turn west,
avoiding the mountains, and after two more days, on camels by that point,
start back north, to enter Hamsah Mutazz through the desertward gates. The
slave trader was arrogant, young, too aware of how handsome he was, but he
had come to them specifically for this undertaking, and he was greedy and
ambitious which was good for their purposes. He was to be paid only when
they were done. He was not going to run off. It was possible he would
attempt betray them, but unlikely. Neither Rodaidh nor Tileza knew the
trader, but the Zanzar had ordered them to meet him and also hired him for
this, and if you trusted no one you could not do very much in the world, and
they were doing something significant now, or hoping to. Well, yes. Murders
of this sort did tend to be significant, he thought, amusing himself. He did
not laugh, he did not laugh much, but he nearly smiled in the coming dark as
he and the Shadow Lord turned to walk through the olive groves back to the
Palace.

Rodaidh was glad to be ashore. He had spent a great deal of time at sea since
killing his captor and escaping the Aquavia Montage, but he was happier on
land. It was a simple truth. He had been born inland, well away from the
coast. That ought to have offered protection against what had happened to
him. You did not necessarily live your life in the ways that made you
happiest, of course. He had not been happy killing his enslaver, but it had
occurred to him that he had been a slave for longer than he had been free,
and that had come to seem... unacceptable. A kind man who had bought you at a
slave market and had taught you skill with ropes and knives, then had you
trained with weapons to guard him, was still a man who owned you and made you
do things he wanted done, whenever he wanted them done. Fixing the riggings
of the circus ship, balancing high on the yard arm in gale winds on rough
seas was fine for someone else to do, but Rodaidh was meant for a better
life. Things were better since he had come aground and said the words of the
Blood Oath. Listening to the teachings of the monks of his Lord Destuvius
and applying them to his daily choices had proven out so far. There was so
much to gain now and so little to lose in doing so.

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