Name – Lucas
Age – 19
Gender – Male
Sexuality – Straight
Appearance – Lucas is skeletal, his eyes large, sunken, and forest green. His clothes are ragged, his hair platinum blonde, dirty, medium length, and unkempt. His body is riddled with scars, burns, and several poorly stitched wounds, most notably one on his chest where he keeps his Pyromancy Flame. His fingernails are cracked and bloody from constant fidgeting. His left index finger has been replaced by a metal talon-like appendage that is usable as a catalyst for sorceries. He carries a white mask with a laughing face, and a dirty doll that has been mended repeatedly.
Land of Origin – Catarina
Covenant – None
Personality – Lucas is often described as being a simpleton, one possessed of fatally cunning instincts. Dominated by a child-like curiosity and wanderlust, he flits about from one place to the next. He often mutters to himself or inanimate objects, and at times acts like a beast running on all four while growling and snarling threateningly. While definitely quirky and not right in the head, Lucas is a gentle soul, most of the time. Incited into a frenzy he becomes savage, malicious, completely out of control.
Arsenal – Hollowed Thief Set, Ring of Fog, a bone dagger with a potent toxin, a dagger, an estus flask, a few firebombs, some pebbles and prism stones
Magical Traits – Hush, Hidden Weapon, Aural Decoy, Fall Control
He shows an aptitude for sorceries, but lacks potency. He also has a Pyromancy Flame though he doesn't understand what it is and keeps it in a vial under a stitched wound on his chest.
Biography – Lucas' mother died when he was young, his father he has no memory of. When he was 3 part of his head was bashed in by a wooden plank and it's malevolent wielder. The blow fractured his skull, little bits of which stabbed into his brain. He screamed and hollered for days alternating between simply wailing, and flailing violently as if possessed by a demon. When he finally fell silent one night they presumed him dead, and planned to dispose of the body in the morning. But miraculously, the next morning Lucas was fine, he seemed his old self.
Another 3 years passed, with the ever vigilant caretakers growing ever more concerned at Lucas' increasingly erratic behavior that were likely a result of swelling in the brain during times of stress coupled with the shards jutting from his brain. One fall afternoon Lucas and another boy got into one of the silly arguments that 6 year old's get into. Lucas became violent, however, and the boy was savagely brutalized. The caretakers were horrified, and Lucas, realizing that he had worn out his welcome, and in all truthfulness losing interest in the orphanage, left.
He lived on the streets till he was 11, surviving on pity, quick hands, and quicker feet. It was a formative time for young Lucas, but not a very eventful one. He learned to move with haste both vertically and horizontally, and work all sorts of mischief. Most importantly though he learned how to survive with next to nothing.
When he was 11 slavers found him sleeping in his little hiding hole, abducting and shackling him. No one noticed, he was after all, just another street urchin. He was forced to work long hard hours in the mines, except on a good day he might get to run a message or two and be received with a boot. Days seemed to blend with each other, and Lucas has no real knowledge of how long this went on. He retreated somewhere into his broken mind most of the time going about his day in a daze.
Somewhere along the way a sorcerer of some skill took an interest in him. What he saw in Lucas was a mystery perhaps known only to those with an aptitude for the soul arts. Whatever his reasons he bought Lucas and poured a great deal of time into training his new apprentice. And while Lucas showed great talent at learning the arts, his spells lacked power. The sorcerer tried many things hoping to finally find that break through to allow his young apprentice to reach his full potential. One such endeavor involved cutting off Lucas' index finger and replacing it with a catalyst for casting. His hope was that a more personal connection to a catalyst would be just what the boy needed.
When that too failed, the sorcerer began to lose hope and abandoned trying to teach his apprentice. In his warped mind, for his mind was very warped, he decided that by poking and prodding he could extract some insight into what gave the boy such aptitude yet lacking in practical ability with his castings. It was sometime during this torture that Lucas' darksign manifested. He remembers little of the time, most thoughts are blocked out by agonizing pain, but he remembers moments of darkness, silence, and respite from the pain. And then he would return again, and so would the pain. The sorcerer seemed amazed at his resilience never noticing the sign.
It was after one particular session when the boy went limp and quiet for an excessively long amount of time, and lacking a pulse, the sorcerer assumed him dead at last. A pity, he had learned nothing. He summoned a servant to dispose of the corpse and retired for the evening. But when the servant loosened his restraints Lucas returned to consciousness and attacked the servant in a frenzy, killing him. Hatred pulsing through his mind he made his way to his former Master's chambers. While his offensive sorceries were weak he had always been capable with other sorceries that that didn't require sheer force to be useful. He particularly enjoyed those used in misdirection. It was these that he used to sneak towards the sorcerers bed chambers. His anger overflowing, bleeding into his mind like a poison, he slit the sorcerer's throat with a knife he had found and began to savage him as the dying man clawed at his now very exposed and very red throat. Later reports hypothesized that he had been mauled by some sort of beast as no man could, or would, maim a person so. There was little left to recognize.
Lucas wandered aimlessly with a fractured psyche for a time. Eventually he stumbled his way into Lordran. Something about the land seemed to mend his ailing mind, perhaps all he had needed was time. It's hard to say, nor does it really matter. In a new place and with a freedom he had never known, for not even death could hold him back now, an excitement bubbled inside him, something he had not experienced in a long time, perhaps never even, he couldn't remember. His wanderings have taken him to the Forest Hunter's groves, a short stint into New Londo, and some time lost in the Catacombs and the Tombs further below, among other places. He's discovered a hand full of trinkets, weapons, and other things discarded or removed from previous owners. Somewhere below he met the man he affectionately calls Uncle Patches.
