User:NickAleister

Biography
Nick Aleister has been called many things in his long life. Husband, father, thief, murderer, criminal, and streetlord, to name but a few. And most of those names are true to the letter; Nicholas has been everything from a father to a murderer, a farmer to a government agent. His story is not a short one, nor a happy one. Yet still it rings true in the ears of many men to this day.

Rain cascaded down on the many houses of Stormwind City; it was, yet again, a torrential downpour. A young boy, of maybe thirteen, rushed inside of a house, hollering for his brothers. "The orcs! The orcs are here!" He screamed. His entire house shook as the men and boys upstairs awoke, groping for their weapons; a family of five, it was part of their job to defend their city. "The orcs! The orcs!" yelled the boy, running out into the neighborhood. Lamps guttered to life in nearly every window as a stampede of men, some armored, some not, clamored out onto the street.

An orange glow lit the northern horizon. The greenskins were burning their city! With a tremendous roar of rage, the savage group of men took off for the north wall, chanting for blood and gore. Among them, Antonio Aleister, the father of two boys, at home and asleep when he had left seconds before. It gave him peace of mind to know that as long as he could hold off the monsters, the boys would be safe. And even if Stormwind couldn't rally, the both of them would be evacuated to a safer area.

"Psst! Federico! Wake up!" whispered Nick Aleister. Already clad in his light armor, the budding mage was ready to do battle with the greenskins. He poked his older brother in the ribs. "Fed! Wake UP! They're here!" Federico blearily opened his eyes. He looked at his brother, considered, and pushed him off the bed, turning to face the window. The north-facing window. Federico's drooping eyelids snapped back even as he was getting out of bed. The young agent had been sleeping in his leather battle-hide, able to jump straight out of bed if the need arose.

He had been hoping the need wouldn't arise.

Federico grabbed his daggers off of the table beside his bed as he sprinted towards the window. With no time to waste, he simply barreled through it, yelling over his shoulder for Nick to stay where he was as he wove across the rooftops. In a matter of seconds, the older of the Aleister brothers had completely disappeared from sight, blending in perfectly with the shadows.

Annoyed as he was, Nick admired his brother's courage. He rushed straight into the battle to defend his city with no thoughts as to personal safety. That was something to be proud of, in a way. But Nick had no time to love his brother at the moment; he had to focus on the task at hand. The boy had been told to stay here, but not explicitly where here was. Here could be the spot he was standing (in which case he was already disobeying the rules), the house, or Stormwind City! Nick tapped a finger against his chin. "Father never -did- say to stay in the house. He had just said 'Stay here and don't leave.'

A smile cracked Nick's face in half. Running up to the window, he perched on the sill to get his bearings. The Keep didn't look like it was under attack, but the Aviary most definitely was. He'd head there first, and see what he could do to calm the gryphons. As he crept out onto the roof, a head popped out of the shadows. "Going somewhere?" it asked in a nonchalant tone. Flames appeared at Nick's fingertips, personifying his surprise, then quickly died as he noticed who it was. "Velvet. Be careful, man; I almost blasted you."

Velvet laughed. His coal-black hair was plastered to his face as he swept a hand behind him. "I brought the whole gang. We an't sendin' our streetlord into the fray without some backup!"

And so he had. Velvet had brought the entire West District gang--Sarie, Sweets, Jonas, Cat, Cuffs, Jemson, Rebecca, and Amon. Together they were some of the most accomplished thieves and street rats in the city.

"You know I'm not the streetlord, Vel. You are," sighed Nick. "But no matter. Let's go kill the orcs!" His proclaimation was met with a storm of approval, and the entire gang set off towards the aviary. Sprinting across rooftops, taking out orcs from above, sliding and yelling in puddles and muck--that was how the Wests operated. Every now and then a burst of flame would come down from above, immolating an orc or one of their bastard allies.