[CHAR] Cancelled

[ChaoticLaw]

Name: Alejandro Rodriguez Del Villar III (his real name is Stephan Lumpkin )

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 27

Place of Origin: Royal, High Republic

Appearance and Personality:

Alejandro

Alejandro is a dashing, well toned specimen standing roughly around 6'1. Nearly perfectly white teeth and strikingly blue eyes give Alejandro a most dashing appearance. He is oft times charming and considers himself quite the damsel slayer. However, he is not what one would call a “genius”...or “of average intelligence.” He has a problem with coming of as arrogant and self important, but these are usually just masks he wears to hide his own insecurities about himself. Deep down, he is a kind and generous man...he just hasn't quite realized this for himself.

Class: Traveling Bard
Gifted with a golden tongue and swift fingers, the Alejandro is superb at raising the moral of his fellow compatriots, or confusing and paralyzing foes with swift and intricate cords of doom. Despite all of his short coming Alejandro is an excellent lute player and has a voice to match. He has very minor skills with a dagger or other light, pointy objects.

Stats:
STR: 12
END: 10
INT: 8
WIS: 10
CHR: 16
AGI: 13
LCK: 11


Background: Stephan was born on the island of High Rock. His father was a relatively unsuccessful merchant and his mother was a..well Stephan was never actually sure. She was never a part of his life, the story being that she dumped him on his fathers doorstep when he was just an infant. Whether she was a lady of the night or just some poor farmers daughter, Stephan never bothered to ask. His father did his best to raise Stephan, but between being the owner and proprietor of a failing door to door fish cart and raising a promiscuous and rebellious teenager by himself, there was only so much the poor man could do.

At 15, Stephan received his first lute. It was a gift from his father, who hoped that an instrument might give his son something to concentrate on other then which poor girl who would woo next. It backfired slightly, as it turned out most of the fair young ladies in Royal were suckers for a man with a good voice who could pluck a few basic cords. But, with time, Stephan grew to love the instrument, playing it night and day until he could play nearly any tune after he heard it just once. He was a natural bard, and soon word of his talent spread. But before Stephan could truly make something of his life, tragedy struck. It seems he managed to bed some nobleman's daughter, and once she found out that, to him, she was just another notch on his bed post, she began to spread ill rumors about the young lute player. In order to avoid unjust persecution, Stephan changed his name to Alejandro Rodriguez Del Villar III and hit the road. Hes currently headed towards Thanadan, in hopes to find his fortune as the greatest bard who has ever lived.

[Antediluvixen]

Name: Zodiac (Actual name Catherine Romanov)

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 20

Place of Origin: Minor, High Republic

Appearance and Personality:

Basic Appearance

Much of Zodiac’s, or Catherine Romanov’s, body is obscured by a heavy cloak that only comes off in a battle, and even then only if the battle calls for that extra bit of mobility, but even the heavy cloth can’t conceal the fact that she’s short, standing at exactly 150 centimeters with boots on, or her pale skin, quite literally white. What the cloak does conceal is her actual body. She is solidly built, with several years' mercenary work and traveling hardening her previously somewhat soft muscles. Her arms, legs, and body in general are clearly well muscled, but the muscle is not distinct, and is in fact somewhat difficult to notice, especially next to the ample curve of her figure, however the muscle and curve seem to compliment each other, rather than contrasting like one might expect. She has thick hair the color of dirty snow that stays almost permanently in a shortish ponytail pulled up tight against her head. Her eyes are a soft lavender color and are framed by the few strands of hair that aren’t pulled into the ponytail.

To say she is uncharismatic would be a gross understatement, the most she can usually manage in interaction with other sapient beings is to order a mug of beer and a plate of food. The wall that exists between her intelligent and surprisingly insightful brain and fumbling mouth with a mind of its own frustrates her to no end, and has pushed her away from much interaction, and towards her flutes and thoughts, though she finds speaking with Mechanids and some Djinn to be somewhat easier. She has several odd quirks that pop up from time to time, or at least they may seem that way to others.

Class: Bone Singer/Mercenary
The Bone Singer has managed to make a living off of being absolutely insane in battle. Several years practice cleaving enemies -sometimes far larger than herself- in twain with her kriegsmesser and occasionally taking bones to make into musical instruments has left her skilled in combat, surprisingly strong for her apparent size, durable, and with ample knowledge of how to apply her intelligence in… unorthodox ways. The Bone Singer also carries bone flutes of varying sizes and origins, and is quite happy to play them anytime, anywhere; she may or may not be able to do strange and sometimes horrifying things by playing these flutes.

Stats:
STR: 15
END: 11
INT: 16
WIS: 10
CHR: 6
AGI: 12
LCK: 10

Background:
Catherine Romanova was born to a single mother, who then died in childbirth. She doesn’t know how she survived her infancy, the ugly bastard child of a dead mother almost nobody had liked for reasons unknown to her. The town she was born into didn’t seem to hate her as they had her mother, and more or less took it upon themselves to keep her alive. She was given food and allowed to stay in the small one room house her mother had occupied, and for the most part was left alone to her own devices. Few spoke to her, and though they didn’t necessarily dislike her, there was no source of affection in her life, and she never learned how to truly speak and communicate with other humans. One of her few comforts was the rather impressive amount of books that the house had, and after teaching herself to read and write, she read every single book she had exhaustively.

In the years that followed the house became surrounded by plants, she never bothered pulling saplings out of the ground to keep the way clear, and those plants had some… curious ornaments. Every single animal she’d ever eaten, she’d saved the bones from to make strange instruments, wind chimes, and hollowed tubes that played haunting music whenever the wind blew through them. Visits from townspeople became less and less frequent, and had one gone near the house, the haunting tune of the bones in the trees could be heard, but what sounded like music played by a human could’ve also been heard coming from the building.

One day one of the townspeople took it upon himself to visit the strange building, and, upon finding it empty, examined its interior. It seemed normal, though there was no sight of the items he remembered hearing that the house contained. On a table in the center was a note, covered in dust and telling how the occupant -Catherine- had set out with everything of value to go do… something.

She wandered for a year or so, doing odd jobs and occasionally introducing bandits to the business end of the kriegsmesser she had inherited. Her skill with making and using her bone flutes only grew, and she had on occasion managed a truly terrifying effect, but those were in the minority compared to simply bisecting things with the messer.

But nothing much in the way of fortune came her way, which was the main reason she had set out. Oh there was the occasional bag of gold, but it was never enough. She heard of opportunity in Thanadan, packed her gear, and hit the road, intending to pass through Nifu on the way to the city.

[Lazo]

Name: Coil Mercer
Gender: Male
Age: 41
Race: Human
Place of Origin: Derimoor, Elsin
Appearance: Mercer approaches six feet in height, with a wiry, lean physique and tanned skin which must have endured long, grueling treks under the sun more than once. Somewhat worse for the ware, it would seem, as he carries himself with a mild limp on his right leg. His frayed hair is a dark brown, beginning to grey, locks curling slightly towards their end and falling just shy of dark, sunken eyes from which glints an irascible intellect. A rough, short black beard frames frame sharp, hard features.

His clothing is relatively simple, a white tunic and tan pants made of simple cloth, held together by a brown belt and accompanied by a sturdy pair of leather traveler’s boots. On the right occasion, the ensemble will be completed by a grayish, hooded cloak long enough to cover his ankles when worn. Around his neck, usually covered by his clothes, he wears a small, silver colored ring attached to flimsy metal chain as a necklace.

Belongings: It is rare that one might see Mercer without his cane, a sturdy, three feet long walking stick made of blackened wood. The shaft is straight and smooth to the touch, while the grip juts out perpendicular to it. It is a rather unassuming instrument at first glance, but on closer inspection, one might notice a series of fine runes painstakingly inscribed along its length in what seems to be ink, only slightly darker than the wood itself. It can be hooked to a hoop on his belt when not in use.

Under his left sleeve is strapped a sheath holding a small hunting knife. The weapon has a single, curved edge, and a deer bone handle bound in leather.

He also typically carries a large satchel with him, carrying all manner of things. Most commonly one might find chalk or charcoal, herbs, playing cards, and an old-looking pipe. Continuing to rummage through might let someone find stranger things. Candy, perhaps, or flowers, a pouch holding a lock of strange hair rather than coin (there is already a coin pouch strapped to his belt), bits of white rock further inspection might prove to be bone, well-padded vials of strange or oddly recognizable liquids. These contents may vary.

Mercer also owns a pet crow. The bird is not physically bound in any way, and indeed spends most of the day away from his master, but at the end of the day, the black bird always seems to make its way back to its perch on its owner’s shoulder.

Personality: Stern, distrustful, and with a healthy dose of cynicism, Mercer’s character and temper has often been compared to that of a cantankerous elder at least twice his age. Any humor he might indulge himself in tends to be scathing, sardonic, and levelled at people who irk him.

Mercer has been accused of sharing that irritating habit most often attributed to wizards and certain magical creatures of treating every scrap of information another one lacks as a secret worth keeping. He certainly does little to dispel the notion that he might be hiding some vast, fell knowledge when it is to his advantage.

Background: Mercer was born to a tavern wench in lower Thanadan, a rather young girl with little desire to maintain a family at her age. At least, that is what he has been told, as memories from those times are lost to him, though one must deduce from the fact that he is currently alive that the girl had some compassion and chose not to abandon him in the wilderness. Of his father, he knows nothing. Likely one of the patrons at the tavern so many years ago. Regardless, the girl took care of him for a few months, maybe up to a year.

Perhaps she still felt insecure in her role as single mother, perhaps she resented having to feed a mouth other than her own, or perhaps she lacked to means to do so. Whatever the case, when an old mage knocked on her door, offering to take the toddler from her, she agreed. For a price, of course. Coin means much in the land of Teredor, particularly in its capital, and for those at the bottom of its structure, the trickle of coin is slim indeed. He never asked his new custodian how much he had paid for him, the idea that his worth could be measured in gold troubling him deeply.

He came to know the mage as Alvor Tellan. An old man, clear-eyed, beginning to bend in his stance, wrinkled and thin, carrying the robes and long beard that often come to mind when imagining the wise men among the magi. A high ranking member of the Elsinian, the man had lived for an inordinate number of years, far more than the already considerable number his appearance suggested. Some of the older Djinn in the organization going as far as to claim they could not remember a time when the man was not in the Elsinian. With a gift in divination that earned him the title of Seer, his sudden departure from Elsin, and equally abrupt return with a baby in tow was not the first time the wizard had baffled his fellow mages. As it tends to be with things born of prophecy, some of the wizened mage’s actions found meaning only in hindsight, if at all, and several years after the fact at that, and worked for the better when not questioned too deeply.

So it came to be that Mercer was raised at Elsin. Servants of the old wizard took on the role of caretakers, the wizard Tellan too preoccupied with his own duties and seemingly random schemes to be more than a mentor figure, one of the many that presided over him once he was old enough to begin his tutelage in earnest. It may have been this lack of a stable, parental influence that resulted in Mercer developing a rebellious streak, making him contemptuous of authority, and often quarreling with other apprentices, be they young or old. Eventually, Tellan found it necessary to explain his origins to the young Mercer. The boy took it calmly enough, as if the wizard telling him his parents had sold him to the first person who offered confirmed something he already knew, and slowly the boy became more willing to cooperate with his fellow mages, though his mood remained as dour and ill-tempered as ever.

Soon after coming of age, Mercer joined Elsin’s police forces. His abilities as a battlemage left much to be desired, but he was adept with several kinds of magic that were useful to a security force in a land teeming with magic-users. An ability to detect, assess, and disarm wards, knowledge of enchantments and certain rituals, and spells that could be used to track suspects with hair or nail clippings ensured he remained useful. That said, his confrontational nature did little to endear him to his superiors, and he soon found himself being assigned to some of the worst, most dangerous cases they had to offer. His experiences in the job gave him an understanding on some of the darker applications of magic, particularly magic that affected the mind, and a disgust for its use on sapient beings.

One such case left him with a severe injury on his right leg. Healing mages did what they could for him, but the leg never recovered full mobility, and the injury gave his superiors an excuse to dismiss him.

Insulted, and more than a bit resentful of the authorities in Elsin, Mercer left for Teredor. He settled in a small hamlet to the south of Lake Fall. He lived there as a small time enchanter and tutor to those who wanted to know more of the arcane arts, occasionally playing host to Elsinian mages who needed a place to rest in treks across the empire.

An apprentice mage recently contacted him, appearing on his doorstep with a letter from Tellan. Whatever the reason was for the old wizard to use an apprentice as a messenger all the way to the other side of the continent rather than use a sending, Mercer did not know, but his magic detected no foul play, and the letter carried the unbroken seal of the Seer and Tellan’s signature.

The message suggested that something interesting would happen at Nifu in the coming days, and he would do well to be there when the time came. The message was odd, the task inconvenient, but one ignored the Seer’s word at his own peril. He allowed the apprentice to stay at his home for the night, and parted the following day.

Class: Wizard

Stats:
STR: 10
END: 12
INT: 16
WIS: 16
CHR: 10
AGI: 8
LCK: 8

[Ariamis]

Ishtar of the Searing Sands

Name: Ishtar of the Searing Sands

Race: Sarben

Gender: Male

Age: 30

Place of Origin: The Heartlands

Appearance and Personality:

Ishtar

Ishtar stands about the same height as a human male, and has a body built like a chiseled statue, muscled yet delicate. His stony frame can also take the shape of the very sands he is born from, but it is a secret technique every Sarben guards very closely. On his belt he carries a dagger, and on his back he wears a hip-length cape not to protect from the intense heat of the sun, but to hide his subtler actions of questionable legality. The clothes he wears are made from leather, along with the small bag on his side used for storing stolen trinkets and other items of value. He keeps his face concealed with linen wrappings, with only a thin slit left to reveal his yellow eyes in the darkness, sure to unnerve any non-Sarben. If he were to ever remove these wrappings, one would find that he has no face indeed, but only four circles in a diamond pattern.

Ishtar is a Sarben, and while polite when dealing with the waterborn as he calls them, doesn't conform to the same social norms as they do. He doesn't greet or bid farewell, nor does he use body language or physical contact to convey messages. He tends to be quiet and imposing like the heat of the desert, and tends to receive fear and even scorn from others, in addition to the mystery his race brings. He believes in an ancient Sarben proverb: "The desert takes the lost", and thus has become committed to stealing from the rich merchants and nobles in order to return the lost wealth of his community. If the topic of discussion arrives on his people, he opens up a bit more to talk about the proud history and tradition of the Sarben.

Class: Sand Stalker
Ishtar, in his quest to return his old caravan community to its former wealth and prosperity, has honed his skills of stealth and subterfuge over the years. He can pick the pockets of anyone not detected by his presence, and his dagger delivers deadly critical hits when he strikes unseen. Using the well-kept secret of the Sarben, he can even shift his body into a sand-like form, and with the swiftness of the wind, disappear and appear somewhere else nearby. If he is detected, he can also cause a localized miniature sandstorm around him and his allies, providing them with a makeshift smoke bomb to escape from any conflict unwinnable by the sword or the tongue.

Stats:
STR: 11
END: 12
INT: 10
WIS: 12
CHR: 5
AGI: 18
LCK: 12


Background: Ishtar comes from a once prosperous caravan community that travelled outside the Heartlands and to other kingdoms like Teredil, trading in goods and supplies from faraway lands. However, the golden age of the Searing Sands ended when a war broke out in Teredil, and the caravan was sacked by a travelling army. Having lost their wealth, the community broke out and spread to other lands in search of a better future. Ishtar never forgave this deed, and thus set out to take back what he believed was rightfully theirs.

He spent many years travelling from city to city. He started as a street performer, using his stony body to perform petty tricks to collect what little gold he could, before he started picking pockets and eventually moved on to performing big heists, hiding out in the cargoes of ships or sneaking into well-guarded treasuries. Having heard rumors of a big score waiting to be collected by a skilled thief, Ishtar set his next destination to Thanadan.

[Aphelion]

-----

[Ethan Starks]

Name: Adrian Appalae

Race:Human

Gender:Male

Age: 22

Place of Origin: Teirn, Teredil

Appearance and Personality:

Visual Aid

Standing at height of 6'1" and weighing in at 220, Adrian is quite the specimen.With blonde hair, blue eyes, a strong chin and his broad physique Adrian easily attracted the attention of maidens as he passed by, yet his humble demeanor will not allow him to acknowledge such favoritism. Valiant in all his endeavors, Adrian is not one to shy away from a challenge. He enjoys the thrill of chasing success even if the odds seem slim. Lawfully good and righteous at heart, Adrian is a protector of the weak and defenseless. He will stop at no end to see that justice is served and any wrongs are made right both in the eyes of the victim and in the eyes of Altag, god of Life. A devout believer, Adrian is very religious, no doubt due to his hailing from the nobility of the Teredil Empire. A bit of a loner, Adrian is not very sociable upon first meet. He is also very objective in his dealings with people. Yet after a prolonged amount of time with shared company he will begin to open up and show a more charismatic side.

Class: Knight/Paladin (Not sure if Paladin would count as a specialization or not) Serving as the King's hand for two years Adrian was a devout follower of the faith, and worshipped the God of Life, Altag, believing that through his power he was capable of channeling divine might into his own vessel. This would allow only the most elite of warriors to gain otherworldly strength and abilities for the purpose of vanquishing the evil that exists throughout the realm of Durian. Through the King's careful guidance Adrian and his fellow warriors would act as an extension of the King's influence, spreading their faith to wherever it could be heard.

Stats:
STR:14
END:12
INT:10
WIS:10
CHR:12
AGI:12
LCK:10

Background: Born into Teredil nobility, Adrian had a very focused upbringing. From the age of five his parents used their coin and influence to ensure their child was fine tuned into the greatest individual Teredil could produce. Every hour of his days were spent studying. Whether it was dining room etiquette, marksmanship, or spirituality Adrian's nose was deep into texts. He excelled in his studies, although he lacked the social skills that his classmates possessed and thusly found himself very lonely in his early years. To overcome this feeling Adrian firstly sought out the companionship of his parents, who often expressed their undying love for him through gifts, but never found the time to spend with him.

Such an endeavor proved unsuccessful as his parents refused to cease their efforts, knowing that without their constant positioning they would no longer be able to afford the advantageous educational opportunities they had presented for their son. Realizing that his parents could not alleviate his feeling of loneliness he turned to his faith, calling on Altag to provide him with a fellow kinsmen. At first, he believed his prayers to have went unanswered, until one day a beautiful young girl named Alicia bumped into him on the way to his fencing instructor's home. She was carrying a basket full of flowers and when the two collided the basket was overturned, sending the bouquet every which way. A rather quick apology led to a much longer exchange of gazes. Upon the realization that some of the flowers had been destroyed, Alicia knew she would have to head back to the fields to collect more. Without a thought Adrian offered his help and the two had wonderful day amongst the blossoming meadows, giggling and playing all the way into sunset. As the two made their way back to the city, Adrian promised Alicia he would return tomorrow, intent on another day of fun filled adventure.

Adrian returned home that evening to find that his parents were home to greet him. A very rare occurrence for one so busy. With wide grins spreading from ear to ear. Adrian met their grins with curiosity, unsure of what was going on. Yet the news they delivered was none to pleasing to the now 12 year old prodigal son. After a bit of maneuvering they had managed to secure their son's future as Knight of the King's court. Tonight he was to be delivered to the castle to begin his training. Tear filled protests rang out as Adrian realized the first friend he'd ever had would never be seen again. Fears of being doomed to a life of solace filled his mind that night and only through his faith in Viasmal, god of creation was finally able to stifle his outbursts of uncontrolled emotion and prepare himself for what was ahead.

Ten years later Adrian had soared through the ranks like no other before him. He was the youngest lieutenant at the age of 21 and within the next year he was given his own five man squad. Him his group of knights completed many tasks for the King and word of their exploits spread across Teredil like wildfire. Upon return from each mission the squad would be blessed with a celebration of sorts, allowing them to drink and eat to their hearts content. Adrian dabbled very little in these events, having accepted his life of solace over the years.

Today it seemed the king had a special task for Adrian alone. He asked that the Knight travel to Thanadan to discover a great evil that was brewing within the shadows and destroy it. When Adrian questioned why he was to carry out this task alone, the king informed him that a group would draw too much suspicion and that the power of their spirits together would alert the evil presence and surely allow them to escape discovery. Believing his king to be a wise man, Adrian set off to Thanadan unsure of what he may face...

[EldritchOne]

Character Sheet: Alexander Orlok

Name: Alexander Orlok (The Face Dancer)

Race: Metatyutem

Gender: Genderless (Originally male)

Age: 24

Place of Origin: Din Ghulda, Tel-Narra

Appearance: Given his Metayutem nature, most of the time Alexander doesn’t have a set appearance, and regularly changes it to suit his needs. When in his “natural” form he takes on the appearance a youthful man, with a lithe athletic figure and standing about 5,9 in height. Due to being a Metayutem, he is entirely colourless when not shapeshifting, so is completely marble white from head to toe, with not even his eyes being spared. He has what might be described as delicate, angular features, with high cheekbones, and a cruel looking mouth often twisted into a mocking sneer of contempt. This is assisted by a slightly curved scar beginning at the left side of his mouth, which makes him always look like he’s laughing at a private joke or planning something devious. His hair is short and unstyled, giving him a vaguely rugged look. His arms are covered in scars, along with a few on his upper body, he is also missing his little finger on his left hand, which he lost when completing a contract on a noble in the High Republic.

His clothing tends to be whatever suits the occasion, but underneath he generally wears leather armour, and several cross-chest throwing knife belts, along with a larger blade which can be hidden on his person. Above this he tends to wear a black leather longcoat and a long white hood and scarf which hides his face from view. He generally carries a collection of old ceramic masks across his chest, a mocking jest to his ever shifting character, and sometimes goes masked when assassinating someone who has a contract on them. Usually he carries a collection of smoke bombs and poison vials with him as well when he is making a hit, along with lockpicks and other tools of the trade. When he doesn’t have his hood up, he usually covers his face with a scarf and wears an old, slightly singed brown leather tricorn hat.

Personality: Alexander’s personality could be summed up in one word: sardonic. He is not easy to get on with and has no intention of changing that, so talking with him is usually highly sarcastic and snarky affair, coloured with cruel jibes wherever he can implement them. He has a sadistic sense of humour which he utilises to his enjoyment of making people stupider than him suffer, mostly because he thinks they deserve it, but also because he thinks it’s funny. Whilst he has every capacity to be disarmingly charming and friendly, he discards it as soon as it becomes unnecessary or when the requirement for him to act pleasant is no longer needed. He travels too frequently to settle down and make any friends –even if they could get past his unpleasant personality- and largely views anyone he knows as an unwelcome acquaintance rather than a valued companion. Also if it suits his means, he’ll happily screw someone over for a considerable profit, or just because he hates them with a passion. Despite his ignoble origins he exerts a highly refined character, and is quite intelligent, which might be considered surprising for someone who could be described as a “glorified cutthroat”. Also, despite being a backstabbing snake, he overall won’t go back on a contract deal, not even for offers of money from the victim, mostly because nobody would hire him if he did it without good reason. He also tends to take tokens from his numerous contracts to remember them by fondly.

Class: Assassin (Face Dancer)

A Face Dancer Assassin is one who has given themselves over to what they view as Metayutem’s true path, to manipulate, undermine and kill for their own benefit. Utilising their races natural abilities to change appearances, they use this skill to murder and assassinate, or otherwise negatively affect the target on behalf of their employer. Utilising a fine array of short blades, poisons, distractions, and illusion magic, along with agility and stealth, they tend to be an agile and beguiling foe, with a silver tongue to boot. Some Face Dancers show interest in more obscure magic than illusions, and look into more unorthodox and darker magical powers, Alexander included.

Stats:
STR: 13
END: 8
INT: 13
WIS: 10
CHR: 14
AGI: 14
LCK: 8

Background: Born to a human mother and a Metayutem “father” Alexander spent the majority of his life being persecuted as the son of a monster by the rural villagers of his home town. Because of his mother’s undesirable choice of husband, they were forced to dwell on the dangerous outskirts of the village, bordering a wolf infested forest, and were universally loathed and feared for what they were. Alexander’s first memory as a boy was being clasped close to his mother staring on in fright as villagers, spurred by a wild animal attack on some youngsters sent out to collect firewood, burned his father alive under the false belief that he was the cause of the beast attacks.

After this he and his mother became even more secluded and isolated and Alexander grew up bitter and spiteful, as he was repeatedly bullied, harassed and beaten by the other boys for being the son of a “monster”, despite looking perfectly human. Due to his peasant social station he couldn’t escape the brutality, and with nobody to teach him words he remained near illiterate for a considerable amount of his life. Forced to rely on an ever decreasing yield from the few anaemic fields they owned, they lived on the knife edge of subsistence, his mother died when he was fourteen due to a localised famine in the region, leaving him in charge of a near desolate farm and increasing his workload exponentially. By this point in time he started noticing changes in his physical appearance, especially once his fifteenth birthday arrived. He became paler and paler, and less human looking than before and more and more like his father, eventually learning how to change his appearance and mimic the local villagers perfectly. At first he started out by simply stealing food from his neighbours by changing form, but years of persecution quickly lead to an escalation of his bitter hatred… and an ability to fight back without suffering repercussions was only too tempting.

Knowing that they’d impose the same death upon him as they had done to his father for being an “aberration”, he decided it was better for him to make a move first, rather than wait for a calamity to occur and to be lynched for it. Moving from house to house, he imitated members of the local families and instigated a blood feud between them, slowly ramping up the tension by moving behind each other’s lines and sabotaging grain supplies and stealing their valued commodities for himself. Eventually he built up enough conflict in the community and it promptly tore itself apart, with family killing family in an all out bloody struggle for supremacy. In the end next to nobody survived, and when Alexander emerged from hiding he found the majority of the villagers dead or badly injured. Taking a rusted knife from the hand of a dead peasant, he promptly slit the rest of the townsfolk’s throats in revenge and looted what remained of their possessions, burning down the village as he left with what little gold and useful items he could find.

After spending several days on the road, he eventually reached the nearest city, where he quickly established himself amongst the cities vagrant population. Learning the ways of the street he became an agile and nimble street thief, and further honed his abilities at shape shifting. Utilising his abilities, he stole himself an education at a school for nobles by taking the place of lazy students and sitting in on the teaching, eventually learning to read and write, as well as knowledge of the world and its history. It is also here he learned some of the refinement and culture he adopted into his character, developing a charming and gregarious exterior, and furthering the development of his manipulative abilities. He proved to be an apt student and learned incredibly quickly for someone who’d lived in such deprivation, showing a natural intelligence far above his fellow students and his own years. On the side of this he quickly became hired muscle for the various violent criminal gangs, but found that they took ill advantage of his skills and mostly scorned his contributions. Eventually he decided to become an independently contracted assassin, working for no one but those who paid him and rising quickly in status as he moved from murdering shopkeepers to assassinating top members of the aristocracy, building him a name in the process, as well as providing monetary incentive to continue. Eventually he became a much sought after hired blade, assisting those with enough coin to make him pay attention and assassinating some of the highest figures in the city, with little care for what damage or good he caused. Still, he yearned for something more fulfilling, and not just to be the local best assassin, so he went out and began to attempt to make his fortune in the wider world.

Over the next six years Alexander crossed most of the known world, taking contract after contract and killing and assassinating anyone to further his own means. It didn’t matter if the person was evil or good to him; he’d kill them all the same. Morality had no issue in his job, and he chose instead to simply enjoy the little things; Like strangling fat human merchants to death in their bathtubs with his bare hands. Over the years, he’d begun to exert a dark view on the world and all the people in it, becoming a sardonic and sadistic, and generally becoming more and more violent and unsavoury. He joined a few assassins’ guilds, but quickly left after a few months, preferring the freedom that being an independent contractor allowed him. After five or so years he’d racked up a small reputation in the criminal underworld, and had plenty of wild tales to tell of the contracts he’d pulled over the years, some of them highly audacious.

Most recently a contract in Thanadan has struck his interest in the city, he is to assassinate an elderly lord of that city when he arrives, and is preparing to launch off from a boat from Din-Ghulda towards his target. With a sardonic smirk on his face, and with his hands unconsciously juggling poisoned throwing knives, he prepares for an easy kill, followed by a night of debauchery in a city he has never had the pleasure to visit before.

He’s never been happier.