Marcus Johannes Alessandro Faust, III
(The Machiavel)
Marcus Faust, Marc to the few people who call him “friend,” and the Machiavel to sorcerers around the world, is many things. A sorcerer, a demonologist, an assassin, ridiculously wealthy, a general pain in the ass. The list goes on. “Good people” will not be found there. On a student exchange program to Florence his freshman year Marcus discovered real power, not to mention perversity beyond his wildest imagination, in the form of the Order of the Black Cube. Honest to goodness satanists.
That’s how the Magister Giacobo found him.
The Order was fascinating. They had real magic, something Marcus had never seen before. It was the kind of power that could change the world. Or so he thought. He was wrong, but he didn’t know that. And, of course, he wanted it. What can he say, he was young? Sure, the Order raped and murdered and forced souls back into long dead bodies, but Marcus never did any of that, and though he never would. To be fair, there is at leastone thing on that list he still isn’t doing.
The Demiurge was in the process of wiping Order of the Black Cube from the face of this world and sending its members to the master they claimed they adored. As it turned out, when given the chance to join him, most of the Order changed their mind. It was a little too late for them but for some reason Marcus never figured out the Demiurge decided not to kill him. The Master sorcerer, saw something in him and after the shock of not only seeing real real magic, not the dime store stuff the Cubists performed, but also seeing it reduce an Order of two hundred men and women into so much dust and pain, wore off Marcus started his training.
The rest . . . well, the last reporter to come snooping around got himself struck by a freak bolt of lightning. Eight times.
