Name: Dr. Thomas Arthur Rudhale
Age: 25
Appearance:
Wears thick, quilted robes and a mask of the same material. The mask is wrapped in gauze bandages, topped by a hide cap of raw brim. The eye holes of the mask are studded at the edges and have a grid iron comprising their center, made of some sort of silver metal.
Class: Plague Doctor
Adept at ancient medicinal arts using herbs and elixirs. Specializes in curing diseases, ridding toxins from the body, and countering possession. All healing is not supernatural, however, and utilizes the body’s metabolism and immune system to fight back ailments. Dabbles in the occult and mythical creatures. Specializes in pacifying and banishing demons. Also has an extensive understanding as to how plants of nature can ward and damage supernatural beings.
Alignment: True Neutral
Weapon(s): A metal rod with wings at the tip, and a ceremonial silver dagger with a handle made of holly. Carries an assortment of books with all kinds of spells: ceremonial rituals, summons, and banishes to name a few. All spells, save for cantrips, require materials, specific situations, and time.
Armor/Clothing: A thick, woolen shawl draped over hardened leather hide. The mask and hat are leather wrapped in a gauze material.
Personal trinkets:
- Rudhale's Thurible -
- Po, the Raven -
Short History:
Dr. Rudhale was raised in a traditionalist town far away from the throes of society. Houses and paths were paved in cobblestone. Windows were not of glass but of air, letting the pungent scent of horse dung from the street waft into all of the buildings around. All of the buildings around, in a gigantic circle, surrounded an ancient monolith. It was a fountain, older than the town itself, with etchings scratched into the stone moulding at the base. Written was a language once known but now forgotten. Nobody cleaned the fountain, yet its waters flowed pristine in blue. Nobody dared disturb the fountain. Not until the full moon.
A bell tolled from the northern edge of the ring of houses. 3 am called upon the people to gather in candlelight. They donned their masks, Dr. Rudhale remembered. They donned their robes and boots, shawls and wide brim hats. They stuffed herbs into the tips of mask beaks to guard from a rotting smell. It came from the fountain, and wafted through the open windows in the wall. They collected their censers hanging from chains. They dipped in flaming sticks and wandering smoke began to rise. Each smell was strong and unique to its owner, but none overpowered the rotting smell coming from the fountain. A mask was placed on Thomas' face, and a candle within his hands. They did not wander in leaving, striding towards the fountain.
The town collected around the fountain. Its waters shimmered black and silver against the moonlight, the blue having gone. They stood as their houses, as mushrooms in a fairy ring. A faint glow illuminated their silver candle sticks and brown, leather forms. Their beaks protruded from masks and shawls covered their ambiguous bodies. Uniform around the black fountain they stood, their incenses being overpowered by that rotting smell. So close now, at the bottom of the fountain, now rising. One, single candle blew out. The woman holding Thomas' hand caught her breath. Thomas could hear her muffled sobbing, and could see his father's blue, powerful eyes staring through the mask's windows. They were not glass but air, so that tears could strew forth from those blue eyes. A winged form the color of fountain water breached the surface. Liquid dripped onto cobblestone. It sauntered towards her.
It screamed. Not from a mouth, but the sound was already in the mind. People quaked, shivered, and collapsed. A silver dagger protruded from its knee, cascaded in a black bile. Blue, powerful eyes turned from the dagger and met Thomas'. Run. Thomas always did what he was told. He ran to his house around the ring and collected few things: a suitcase, a dagger, and a ceremonial rod. His mind screamed but he did not turn back. His village screamed but he did not turn back. The smell of rotting flesh became more faint with each step. Tears fell through windows.
Thomas ran for nearly a day until his legs collapsed. He pulled himself onto a stump, and sat there, watching green grass he'd never known. Something landed on Thomas' shoulder. He turned, facing his mask towards a raven that cocked its head back at him. "Hello, good day, love you," Po said. Thomas stared at its blue, powerful eyes as a choking sound came from his throat.
Dr. Rudhale wandered the lands in search of the thing that plagued his childhood. He had encountered more supernatural creatures than most would in their lifetimes, and had to defeat those who were aggressive. By peddling his skills as a medicine man, Thomas has been able to make money for his travel expenses. The most recent stop is Galloway, where rumor tells of supernatural activity in the form of so-called “Beastmen”…
Other: The smoke and incense from Rudhale's thurible smells of earth and amaranth, unless otherwise specified.
