Castle Solitude, 11:47 PM

The moon's pale rays shone through the windows of the library, casting an ethereal glow over the marble flooring. Danny sat in a chair by the window, robed in brown and quietly surveying a picture that'd been taken three years prior. His eyes roamed over the image of himself and a girl no older than sixteen, both beaming at him. As he did, his blue eyes seemed to grow ever more somber.

The girl had medium length dark brown hair tied in a low ponytail with a white ribbon and scarf, hazel eyes, and a white long sleeved shirt 'neath a sleeveless light blue dress and a white apron. Affection twinkled in Danny’s eyes. Even without the picture he could remember the simple outfit with poignant sharpness.

He remembered the day it was taken - a cool and sunny afternoon in which Danny had been able to sneak the girl some ways out of her family's home to a site for the two of them to spend that part of the day together. He couldn't remember ever being happier, briefly free of responsibilities of the League and of Oliver's calculating mentorship, sharing moments of intimacy with someone whose company he'd come to enjoy more than any other.

He would have never believed that only a week later, all of this would be destroyed at the hands of his mentor, the Count.

His chest felt heavier as he turned the picture in his hand, then set it down on the windowsill. He stood, head bowed, the moon bathing him in its somber rays. His stomach burned with guilt that shouldn't have been his to bear, but Oliver's. No, he thought, Oliver couldn't have done anything If I'd just...if I--

Danny didn't finish this thought, forcing himself to sink no deeper into the guilt that had threatened to consume him for three years. Slowly, he began to walk along the corridor leading out of the library, along the myriad of moonlit windows. And as he did, moved by his recollections, he thought of a song he'd come to learn in the months following the day he'd lost her to the action's of his mentor. He thought to sing.

And sing, he did.

<"Oh I wake in the loneliness of evening, when the deep purple heaven turns blue.

<"And start to pray, as I pray each day - that I'll find forgiveness in you.">

His voice was stronger than it ought to have been following his reminiscences, flawlessly set to the tune and with rich intonation. He paused by a window, looking out onto his lawn.

<"I lie in the loneliness of evening, looking out on a silver flaked sea.

<"And ask the moon, oh how soon, how soon...will my love be here with me.">

He leaned onto the windowsill, gazing directly at the moon, knowing that it could give him no answer but hoping still. The stars twinkled bright in the vast distance. He tore his face away, and resumed his walk along the corridor.

<"I had found her, she was my angel, with the dust of the stars in her eyes.

<"We were dancing, we were flying, and she'd take me right back to the skies.>"

He didn't know how long he'd walked along scarlet carpets emblazoned with a silver symbols, gliding past effigies and guardsmen, aware of none of them. All he knew was that he soon found himself back in the library, standing in the pale light of moon, in the loneliness of night.

<"I lie in the loneliness of midnight, looking out on a silver-flaked sea.

<"And ask the moon, oh how soon, how soon...">

Before he knew it, he was resigned to the same chair by the window once more, gently taking the picture between his fingers. He let a sigh escape him, his eyes once more gliding over the two people in the picture. Over the article he possessed of one of the happiest days he'd ever known - of her.

<"...will my love be here with me.">

Count Oliver

The artful Count Oliver, also known by the given League of Shadows name "Al-E-Ad", is the assassin that discovered and rescued the eight year old Daniel McStorm from the cutthroat that claimed the life of his father in a botched robbery, and since then has remained Danny's prime parental figure, mentor, and adviser in his decisions and future aspirations beyond the league. In his mid fifties but blessed with a form of lazarus induced chronological immortality, he was recruited to the league at the age of 23, and originated from a wealthy and noble family based in England.

Morally duplicit, enemy of the poor and needy, and adhering to the philosophy of machiavellianism, he is both friend and counselor to Sorion. Becoming a sort of traveling aristocrat following the League's divide and eventual fall, he can almost always be counted on to come to Daniel's aid, carrying genuine sympathy and solicitude for him in all that he does for the boy - if with the occasional ulterior motive...

Count Oliver professes himself free of any supernatural afflictions or abilities - that his abilities are the fruit of his own skill and wisdom. Sorion believes better, feeling that The Count has an uncanny knack of simply appearing. It is speculated that he is a sorcerer of some sort or the bearer of metahuman abilities, particularly given his survivability and abundance of strength at his age (Sorion describes him as having an iron grip). He appears to have at least versed himself in defense against supernatural manipulations, forced transmutations, and otherwise, external influences.

Valed

Valed, of which his birth name is unknown, is a masterful swordsman, sagacious vagabond, and one of the noblest assassins Daniel has ever met. His skill with a sword is thought by some to be unmatched, and his infamy with remnants of the original league lies behind rumors of a distinctive technique said to produce the five swordsmen's worth of arcs in an instant.

Where Count Oliver is unkind to rabble and poor, prone to duplicity, and occasionally carrying ulterior motives when aiding Daniel, Valed is typically kind to strangers and rabble and eager to provide wisdom to his young protege without plans to use him for future machinations. It is for this reason that Valed and the Count are constantly at odds over mentorship of Sorion, and over the League's philosophies.

He is among those who departed the League at the beginning of the first Shadow War that divided it into three separate factions, and among those whom were truly loyal to the moral reign of Abigail Aensland. Now, he roams the earth as a vagabond, thief, and charlatan, keeping tabs on former league comrades and pupils, and when need be, granting wisdom and favors to the young Jedi Paladin.