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[Dybbuk]

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Who would ever want to live in Ocllo? You where either in the poor class, working as a farmer on the outskirts or a sailor in the harbor, or you where a criminal. The city of Ocllo worked alot like Buc. Den, but with more order. It was like a pyramid- At the top was the blood line of the founding family, and since they had been killed by Dybbuks family, (who was the next in line, but is all dead save for Dybbuk) it put him in a supreme position: he was the godfather so to say. He was the youngest by a few generations to ever hold power in Ocllo, but none disputed his position. Under him was the guild leaders- There was the Assassin guild led by Dybbuks cusin Abica, the Thieves guild, the Pirating organization, the murderers guilds, and a few small others. Under the guilds- all of the people and businesses that work for them. This is what Dybbuk returned to now as his boat entered the Ocllo harbor...

"She must be the Devil" Dybbuk thought to himself as he sat in the crows nest looking out into the harbor and downtown Ocllo. Jolica had came to see him in the healers house after Alana left him. Expecting her to kill him, Dybbuk was suprised when she delivered a sentence far harsher than death could ever be. She told him to leave this place and go back to Ocllo, to never show his face around this place again, and that if he ever came back for Alana she would make his life a living hell. Jo wanted him to suffer, and he would do just that. He didnt want to kill her; no he deserved what was comming to him. If there ever was a person Dybbuk never wanted to see again, she was it. His gut told him he would, however.

A few hours after he steped onto Ocllo soil for the first time in three years, Dybbuk had busniesses to attend to- personal nonetheless. He stood in front of a small run-down farm house. The windows and door where smashed open most likely from thieves looking for something of value inside. This is where Dybbuk grew up, where his parents died and his brothers taught him the ways of the shadows. He steped inside, but there was nothing. It was empty and smelled of mold. There was no storybook teddy bear or blanket from his childhood, no happy memory or deja-vu. It was how it looked- a run down house. Dybbuk Pulled out a bottle as he walked away from the house. Truning around he threw it up in the air onto the roof of the house. When the bottle hit it exploded and started a fire. Within few minutes the house was engulfed in flames, and Dybbuk was no where in sight.