Name:Rav Troklen
Continent of Birth: High Mist
Race: Tiefling
Class: Mage, with a slight touch of bard from his early years.
Mage School of Foci: Mainly Illusion, Fire focus in Destruction
Starter Equipment:
-Father's Masterwork Rapier
-Fireproof clothing, previously enchanted.
-Amulet of his mothers
-An odd black metal viola
-Portable brewing tools
-Rather old book written in the Tiefling's native language.
Age:32
Personality: In a word, Rag could probably be best described as confident. While his rather outlandish appearance makes some wary of him, he rarely seems outwardly bothered by this perception, often easily making fast friends with those with an open mind. A life as a showman has made him rather comfortable in the spotlight, and may often search it out, especially if it allows him to step into the role of the hero, more than like a hold over after being casted as the "wicked dæmon" whenever his troupe would hold a play. Having grown up listening to tales of young outcasts becoming the hero in many a tale, even as he's grown older he still holds hope he may mirror such tales.
Strengths:
-Decent hand at weilding his father's rapier, learned from training for plays his troupe would put on.
-Excellent Orator, his years as a showman having made him quite the charmer, well aware if how to work a crowd.
-Inherently gifted with magics, Rav is well versed in magics of the mind, creating images and molding thoughts to try and avoid bloodshed if possible, though his race giving him an inherent leaning to fire magics.
-Almost fireproof, only affected by extremely stoked flames.
Weaknesses:
-Many people tend to inherently distrust tieflings based of the many tales and rumors thaat precede the rather reclusive race. This can cause problems for Rav himself.
-Rav's confidence can lead him to getting into situations that may be a speck over his head, and often cause trouble he could have avoided.
-Rav admitedly has a weakness for the ladies, and is likely to go along with any women seemingly in peril, despite now far he may have to go out of his way to help her.
Fears: Spiders,
Brief History: Rav's earliest memories are those spent playing with the children of his traveling troupe. He had been there as long as he had remembered, living with a halflings couple when he was younger. There he and the children who he had been fast friends with had been relegated to helping maintain the wagons and feeding and cleaning the animals, with older children being trained to follow their parents footsteps. At the wizened age of 8, it became rather obvious to Rav that he had no footsteps to follow in. His first clue had been the halflings he had grown up with had no tails to speak of, nor even a nub of a horn to speak of.
Armed with this sudden realization, and weilding a righteous fury only known to Heironeous and 8 year olds, he had demanded the ringleader tell him where his parents were. The fact that he was still wearing a clowns garb to advertise to townsfolk lessened the effect somewhat he feared. After the man had recovered from the shock of the angry little clown, he had spun a tale recounting the heroic efforts of his parents.
He listened in awe as the ringmaster told him of the terrible luck they had, falling into the path of a wandering war tribe of hobgoblins, who soon set their eyes on the rather poorly defended caravan. They had put up a rather valiant attempt at fending off the pack, a few of their entertainers knowing a bit of fighting good for shows and a few spells here and there, but most were hedge mages at best, all bluff and bluster. However it seemed that divine favor had been upon them that night, as a traveling tiefling cleric of Fharlanghn and her human husband were soon seen in the fray, none of the troupe having known where they came from, but they were surely turning the tides.
The battle had lasted long into the night, with many casualties. However despite this, the troupe somehow made it through the night, adrenaline pumping through them as they saw the retreating forms of the hobs. The ringleader hadn't learned until after the fight was done of the two strangers intervention, but was saddened to hear they had both fallen in the battle. The ringmaster had found Rav then in his own tent, and had taken the young boy as to respect the memory of those who had sacrificed themselves. He had then given Rave the tokens he had kept from his parents.
As the years passed, Rav gradually came into his heritage, going down a more arcane path than his mother's, and soon left the troupe afterwards, hearing the call of the road.
Notes:
-Can play the viola and the lute expertly, as well as being somewhat competent with most stringed instruments given time to practice.
-Has an odd habit of lighting himself ablaze in his acts, much to the suprise of many tavern owners.
-Currently working on creating an ale, experimenting with the recipe whenever the chance arises.
-Extremely protective of his parents belongings.
-Can speak and write both in Common and the Native Language of the Tieflings, though it is obvious to High Mist Tieflings that he didn't learn it there.