Editing Treachery:Blades2 (section)

== History ==

Jeremiah- that was the only name he had, in the beginning- is born of the dregs of Locus Ram-Khvastra. His mother was an honest woman, a worker in a tavern. His father was a worthless lout; not a complete stranger, but nearly useless in the boy's upbringing and support. The result was grinding poverty. The boy got his start on crime early, filching things off carts and the like. His mother found out about this, but could not bring herself to refuse the fruits of her boy's crime; their life was too hard for it.

As a young man, he joined a gang called the Thousand knives. There were, in truth, some forty of these bandits; blades being plentiful things in the realm of Ram-Kvhastra, though, their name was not such a deep misnomer. It was a violent life, a kill-or-be-killed existence, but in a society that wouldn't care for them, the Knives at least looked after each other. All it took was risking death every day, and a chunk of your soul. Jeremiah, it transpired, was good at this; he never let his poor mother learn just how good. She mourned all the same, until the day she died, for she knew by the things he brought her that her son was lost.

He lived a good enough life, for what it was; he exerted his influence on the Knives to prevent their crimes from becoming atrocities; he found a woman he could tolerate well enough and gave two daughters all the love and care his father had never shown him. In time Jeremiah rose in the gang's hierarchy, becoming the lieutenant to their leader Gaivan Two-Edge, and a feared figure throughout the chancel's underworld.

The darkest day of Jeremiah's life came after many years as Gaivan's lieutenant and closest friend. His eldest daughter Keva had grown into womanhood, and Gaivan was paying her court. One night, though, Gaivan visited in a drunken haze, and tried to force the matter; Keva, no stranger to violence herself, drew steel to defend herself. Unfortunately, the aggressor was one of the greatest knife-fighters in the world, even drunk, and Keva was slain. The tragedy played out apace, and by dawn Jeremiah Longknife had lost his arm and killed his oldest friend.

Only of late was Jeremiah ennobled, when his predecessor was lost. He well appreciates the power it gives him, and is glad after a fashion to at least be able to affect the Valde Bellum and the war between the Poles of Creation. He did not, however, greet with unalloyed joy the intrusion of the estate of Blades into his soul. He does not love it with all his heart; as much as blades have given him, they have taken away. But they are necessary, and so he will do the task his Imperator set for him.