Masquerade does not remember his parents, nor does he care too much to know either. To it, Masquerade’s parents wanted nothing to do with him from the very start, and they got what they wanted. The only thing Masquerade had in his favor at the time was that despite being an orphan, he was born within the highest level of Scavai. As such even while on the streets Masquerade didn’t find much trouble aside from not getting a meal now and then. He was hopeful for himself, to find a much better life in the future where he could shine brighter than the crimson sky. He would eventually find who he considered best friends at the time. Cats he could put his trust in, and for a while, that was how it was. He became part of something for the first time, even if it was just a small group of street cats. Masquerade thought it was all good for him, but there was one thing he didn’t see as part of the equation; his own naivitae. For so long he wanted to be able to trust others, to be part of a family, as he had never been part of what was normal. Unfortunately he put his deep trust in those who had ulterior motives all those years.
The three cats he had put everything towards turned out to be members of a mock cultist group that took their worship to the Scorekeeper much too far. Grooming innocent and wide eyed hopefuls to be sacrificed to the unrelenting appetite and undertow of Orion. In exchange, they believed they would gain wealth, power, secrecy, and success. When they revealed their true nature to Masquerade he was shattered, as the sacrificial chains burned through his fur and into the skin on his neck and torso, he felt weightless, suspended in animation with tears of betrayal and broken trust. It was in a mass whirl of emotions that he was able to break free of the chains, leaping through the stained glass window and falling many stories to the ground below. He ran then, even with a busted paw he ran until he collapsed from exhaustion.
When he woke, the name he once held, along with who that name belonged to, had died in the slumber. As it rose, he decided he needed something new, unique, with unexpected twists and turns, a place where you could just be another face in the crowd: the theatre. It was a massive place akin to the arts of music and acting. Masquerade would soon find himself employed at the place, and slowly he would make his way up the line of being known. He would join performances and plays on occasion, but most often he was in the background, under the wing of the chief executive at the time. But Masquerade had bigger plans in mind than putting on what he considered to be mediocre. It needed danger, twists and real drama. After years of waiting in the wings his chance arose. The former chief executive would disappear when he was caught in a scandal that left him in shackles. The title and ownership was given to a still young Masquerade. After which he changed everything, nobody was allowed on the theatre grounds for months, almost a year. Masquerade would lay off everyone who was there previously without regret, before spending much time gathering those who held ideals of adrenaline, courage, and a thrill for dangerous stunts and acts that would truly shock all audiences.
When the grounds were reopened it was an entirely new place. White and gray had been replaced by a passionate scarlet, with deep crimson and gold. The first performance Masquerade put on was a shocker, one that made it known he would get to the limelight no matter the cost or the time. What began as the reforming of what could be considered a decently sized and funded theatre, had become famed across Scavai within a matter of years. With new funds it was expanded, with all manner of new buildings attached to the main attraction. It was all that he had wanted, but he always felt like something was missing. Many acts that were within performances were quite dangerous yes, but none truly walked the tightrope of life and death. Masquerade also began to see how others within the troupe would attempt to undermine him, which he did not take kindly. It was only when a disgraced cat by the name of Dionysus found his way into Masquerade’s suite that things would sort out. Over the next year or two, Masquerade would become even more known across the upper levels of Scavai, but also became infamous in the lower levels. Feared and respected.
After forming a partnership with Dionysus the two would expand the already growing influence and empire of the Cirque de la Mort. In the way of an underground gladiators arena. Where cats could test their fighting skills against opponents, or, cats who had undermined, attempted to go against, or even kill Masquerade to take over his empire, were sent as punishment. To fight to the death with those they might’ve once considered friends. The Cirque employed dozens of cats, but among them only six remained safe from being sent to the black sands of the arena. These cats would become the heart of the Mortelles Troupe; Masquerade himself, the ringmaster. Dionysus, second in command and main head of the Obsidian Sand arena. Seyren, in charge of recruitment and stunt operations. Selene and Helios, the twin acrobats. Finally Aphrodite, the master of aerial silk.
After his fame and fortune had been realized, the Cirque became famous all across Scavai, with good relations in the upper and in the lower levels. Masquerade could say he had all that he wanted. Yet one thing stuck in his mind. What had happened to those who had wronged him so long ago? He always kept a cracked portrait of the four of them, with only his face swathed in black paint. A symbol, that the old him was permanently dead and decayed. He would soon get this answer. During a show, at the closing curtain, Masquerade would suddenly spot two familiar faces. Despite being older, he immediately recognized them. But it seemed he had been such a blip in their minds that they didn’t recognize him at all. The duo was cheering, clearly enjoying the show, and they looked at Masquerade with what seemed like total reverence. He hid his disgust behind the feathered mask, before closing the show.
After disappearing behind the curtain he slashed his claws against a wall, making a permanent indent of claw marks. As he seethed an idea suddenly hit him. Sprinting outside he found the three within the crowd. Amongst other sycophants who tried to grab and pull at the Ringmaster, yelling his name. The two were astonished when he asked for them to follow him backstage. They would excitedly follow him, as when they were alone, Masquerade would lie and talk about how grateful he was that they were his so-called biggest fans. Before he asked if they remembered him, them being confused he asked again, this time in a much more cold tone. The lead cat would still ask what he meant, before Masquerade began to circle them. Beginning to recite the past events with perfect memory. He watched as horror struck their faces slowly. Before saying a final word, and tipping his hat. Catching them in an ambush as the other Mortelles knocked them out. Masquerade and the others would watch as they woke from their slumber on the obsidian sands. With Masquerade finally truly putting to rest his past in full. After the fight he would smash the portrait in his suite, before hanging a new one, a full picture of all the Mortelles, as a symbol that his new life was a reality.
Masquerade is famous across Scavai and even across all of Xirres. But he keeps his paws out of politics. Despite knowing his way around it, he tends not to get involved. He also has no true sense of reverence for Orion, with part of this being from his past experiences. But he never truly saw the point, being that for most of Scavai, she is a mystery, not known to be an actual real entity. So he never cared as much as many others do. Masquerade took longer to allow outsiders once Xirres came back onto the map to see the cirque. It’s fame being talked on by Xirres cats would get to the ears of the habitants of many ports and planets. Nowadays he treats them the same way he would anyone else in the audience, even if it’s an important figure such as Moonbeam, who he did meet personally and commented that she was ‘smaller than expected, but had a fierce spirit.’
