Stargaze hadn't heard it. Fellwing had expected as much, and yet hearing it said out loud still left her half-frozen with dread. If her mentor wasn't here, which was very likely, the only other explanation was that something must've known the old dragon existed, and that she was dear to her. Something here could see into her mind.
Tail flat, she shook her head and tried to sound braver than she felt. "Nothing. I must've imagined it. Let's press on. Cautiously - we must be getting close."
She glanced at the rest of their companions as if waiting for one of them to pipe up and say they'd heard the old Seer too, but she was fairly certain it was a futile hope. What she could ask was: "Keep your eyes open, and... do share if you sense anything... strange."
"What is gone from sight should not be gone from mind. That is how fools lose their coin, and despots their life."
T H E S K U L L T H E S K U L L
N A M E ║ Whatever other name they once carried has been lost to time; now, he is Wraith. A G E ║ 23 - 99 982 TK G E N D E R ║ He/they R A C E ║ Halfling S U B -R A C E ║ Provincial M A G I C ║ n/a
T H E S P I N E T H E S P I N E
T O W N ║ Terecél R E G I O N ║ Northeast of the Nordan Lengths P O P U L A T I O N ║ ~10k C E N S U S ║ Mostly humans, though the city sees a decent and surprising mix of folks from all races, united in their desire to learn. T R A D E ║ Home to one of the largest libraries left in Goan, Terecél's greatest exports are the many scholars it produces. N A M E S A K E ║ Said to be the opening words to an ancient incantation for prosperity.
✦ ✦ ✦
P A R E N T ║ Delajah Myrthworth (mother †) P A R E N T ║ Friedehar Myrthworth (father †) O T H E R ║ T'haleus Thinebellow, a famous scholar, who once came to him with an offering
L I M B S L I M B S
W E A P O N 1 ║ A serrated dagger, with runes running along the length of the blade. Those in the know call it the Essence Reaver. Wraith calls it a dagger. It's safe to assume that whenever his hands aren't in sight, they're hovering near its hilt. W E A P O N 2 ║ Shortbow, made for his size. A R M O R ║ Leather armour, hidden underneath a black, hooded cloak. T R I N K E T ║A quill, with its ink long gone and its tips torn from travel. He has never been seen writing with it.
P E C K S ║ 170 pecks; more when he next sees a pocket. B A C K P A C K ║ ///✦ Spare clothes ///✦ Crowbar ///✦ Ball bearings ///✦ Tinderbox ///✦ Small mirror ///✦ Lock picking equipment ///✦ Rations ///✦ Waterskin ///✦ Vials of poison ///✦ Arrows
T H E F L E S H & M U S C L E T H E F L E S H & M U S C L E
𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖗 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖗
S U B L C A S S ║ Scoundrel
Rules are only ever as solid as society's ability to enforce them, and scoundrels know how to make that task difficult indeed. Abandoned by goodwill, they live on the outskirts of cities and towns, skulk through shadows unseen, and make their living through any means necessary. Quick, nimble and unpredictable, they are not afraid to employ dirty tactics if it means they get to live another day.
The good ones do their deeds before anyone notices anything amiss, their heists the topic of many a bardsong. The best ones are not sung about - for to this day, no one realizes their crimes took place at all. Those who have incurred the wrath of a scoundrel better fear every drop of wine, every loose sleeve, and every splotch of darkness that marks the alleys between here and home.
▮▮▮▮▮ ║ ▮▮▮▮▮
BLINK AND YOU'LL-- ║
The winglings were once very powerful illusionists, and while they have lost their control over magic it's instead embedded itself within them. They can blend into their surroundings without so much thought. They can be tactically invisible three times a day. Meaning they aren't entirely unseen, but they are far harder to perceive with normal means. A secret coin toss will decide this.
TAKE ANOTHER STAB ║
If you mess up, you can center yourself and call upon steady hands and a clear mind to try a challenge again. Once a delve, you can reroll anything that required a coin flip.
✦ ✦ ✦
UNIVERSAL KEY ║ RANK 1
EXPERTISE ║ EXPLORATION ║ UTILITY Wraith is an expert at knowing where he isn't wanted - and going there anyway. Performs a quick feat of skill with their tools, such as picking a lock or disarming a trap.
THE WEAPON OF COWARDS ║ RANK 1
EXPERTISE ║ ATTACK ║ RANGED/MELEE The only thing deadlier than a blade is a blade coated with poison - or a drink spiked with it. For three rounds, the target must flip a coin at the start of their turn, taking 1 health damage on a failure. If by the third round they've taken no damage, they instantly take 1 health damage instead.
LAST LEGS ║ RANK 1
EXPERTISE ║ AID ║ SELF More than once, Wraith has been likened to a cockroach. He thinks it a compliment; they are, after all, notoriously hard to kill. For the next round, anyone targeting the user with an attack or a harmful effect must flip an extra coin to succeed.
Y O U R B R A I N & N E R V E S Y O U R B R A I N & N E R V E S
S T U D Y ║
///✦ THE STREETS OF TÉRECEL ║ The only place of study Wraith ever truly attended. The streets taught him everything he is and isn't, the difference (and the overlap) between should and could, and everything there is to know about the world that doesn't want him. /// 99982 - 100003
///✦ THE EVERGLADE INSTITUTE OF MAGIC ║ During his brief stint at the academy, Wraith wt̸̷̶̵̷̗͉̰̯͕̗̬̑̃̈́̆ͦ̒ͯ̽̋̕̚h̴̸̶̶̸̶̷̢̼͈̖͙̲̥̭̦̳̪̱̠̬̠̊̓̂̌̽̈́̀̅̑̈́̈́͗̂͆̈́͛͜͟ͅȩ̵̸̷̶̵̷̦̻̬͓̯͇͎̗̪̻̻̃̒̎͒̆̉̌̈́̎́̇͌̕͝͠y̵̵̵̵̵̶̶̵̸̡̨̩̟̦̳̖͙̦͖̣̥͍̺͕̝̠̯͍ͥ͛̽̋͊̍̑̍͒͆͋̉͗̏̓̏̕͘͜͜͠͠͠͝͠͝ͅ ̸̴̧͚͓͙̩̬̌̾̃͘̚҉̸̸̶̴͎̼̪̜̹̺̤̳͔̅̍̑͛̀͒̀̕͜d̸̷̶̵̶̸̪͕̳̱͎͕̩̺̥͇̖̰̫̦͖̭̞̭̈́̀̈́͆̒́̐̄͑̏ͩ̈́̉̔͒̕̕͘͠͝͝͝i̴̵̵̵̵̶̶̢̛̼̣͎͇͍̱̦̦͕̜̟̺̮̜͍̠̳͔͍̎͑̐̀̌̾̂̓͋̈́̔̑͑͑̂̔̐͋̋͘͝d̷̵̸̸̵̶̸̷̢̨̖̙̠̻̜̰͎͙͈̠̰͍̤̹͖͖̜͎̱̽̽̊̽̎͗̊̋̌̀̈́̔̅̀̕͜͜͝ ̵̵̶̸̴̶̢̧̪̳͇̱͍̤͉͚̆́͌͂̓͛͋̽̒̒̋͐͗̒̍̕͜͝ͅṱ̷̸̷̸̵̷̴̶̢̢̛̘̗̙̲̲͎͚̥̱̬͓͚̖̭̣̘͇̠̞̑̑̽̅ͧ̈̓́͐̇̃̇͐͐̕͘̕͜͜͝ͅḙ̷̶̴̵̴̸̸̷̷̢̡̮͓͎̯͇͖̘̱̳̦͙̺̦̪̣̼̪̦̣̇̎̈́̄̉͊̃͗̓̂̾̄̒̈́̓́̂̈̕͘͜͜͠s̷̵̵̴̸̵̴̵̷̸̨̧̛̻̟̜͚̭̩̖̦̦̪̮͕̦̹̙̭͕̬̦͖͇͖̲̲̳̥̗̰̝̳̩̒̐̅̀͛͒̈́̉̀̈͌̒̄͒̄͌͛̆͘̚͝͝ţ̷̶̵̸̶̛̬͈̰̺̼̳͉̦̱͖̜̙͛̉͗̅̑̾͂̍̽̔͗͌̆͗͊̚͘͘͟͠͝s̴̵̷̵̴̵̨̧͙̱͙̤̺̠͉͓̹͍̗͙̃̅̒͋̊̔̽̈̀̑̏̔̔̒̓̚̕ ̶̸̶̵̵͕͇̳͇̪̼͍͓͑̅̈́͛̾̊̑͂̽̓̕̚̚͝n̴̷̷̯̞͉̙̯̜͚͇̋͑̅̏̎̔͛̌͡d̵̷̸̵̴̴̵̸̴̷̸̢͖͇̙̲̯̮̖̙̬̝͙̗̦̳̜̖͎̱̙̫̲̝̼̀͋ͧ̎͊̓̌ͩ̂̎͒̓̊̒̒̈̃̽͛͑̽͌̽͑̎̄͘̚͘͝͝ͅ ̶̶̸̵̶̶̴̸̡̧̢͔̻͎͎̰͓͎͔̯̟͈̖͙͒̇ͧ̍͌̐ͦ̐́ͮ̐̏̈́̈̎͌͛̐̌͛͝͝ẗ̵̵̸̸̷̶̶̛͙̥̠̦͉͉̙͇̰͍̘͙̦̯͖̳̉͛̿̽̇̅͂̒̑̿̐̓͛͐̕͝͝͠h̸̸̶̶̶̴̢͈͍̟͎̭̫̙̻͓̘̰̱̬͒̆̅̈́̑̒̽̊͒̃͛͐̕͘̚͜͝͝e̵̵̷̸̶̲̪̟̜̼͍̘̥͕͊̄̈́̽̎̾̓̈̂̒̀͢͝y̴̵̷̵̴̵̧͎͔͓̹͔͍̪̭͚̰̔̍ͣ̈̽ͩ̇̒͛̑ ̸̵̵̴̸̸̨̧̢̢̡̲͖̯͇̭̺͔͇̖̰̱̤̤͛͐̈́ͯ̈̏͂͌̃̄͊͗̈́̇̕͠ͅd̸̶̶̴̨̛̖̲̰̗̝̥̘̗̞̳̪̥̜̄̊̅́̅̇̽͆̅̚̕̚̕ḯ̸̵̝̺͍͈̩̳̊͗̃͘͝ḍ̵̷̷̷̖̱̱̖͇̤͇̏̂̑ͮ̋̑̎̽͗͗̅̽͜͝͠͝ ̸̶̷̯̩͉̼͈̻ͤ̾͑͗̏̕̚̕̕͜͏̷̎ń̷̸̸̸̴͓̜̝͚̦̤͇̹̻̺̣̔̏̿̋́̐̉̓̈̓́̚ơ̷̸̶̸̸̷̵̴̴̡̡̨̢̧̤̮̦̰̥̬̗̥̩̥̠̜̞̝͕̱̫̑̓͑̏̌̉̎͐̿̽̽͋̔̊̀̀́̚͜͝͝ţ̷̷̵̶̴̷̴̛̯̻̣̫̪̺̹̰̟̥̜͉̰̤̰̰̘̀̊ͣ́̒͐̍ͬ̀̽̒̈́̀̍̈̀̒͘͜͟͝͠ ̴̸̸̵̙̭̮̬̙̘̺̎͂̃̈́̍̀̓̐̔̀̋͠͝s̵̸̴̵̴̸̴̸̨̧̡̧̡̡̩̰̜̯̹̦̥͕͖̫͚͙̘̲̣̼̀͗̀͐ͬ͊̓̅̍̎͌ͫ̓̈́̊͌͛͌̑́̐͘ù̵̶̵̵̷̧̢͎͎̼̦͖̺͈̺͙̝͔̩̑̋̓̉̂̍̋̓̆̅̐̿͘͜͠͝͏̷͒c̷̭̫͙̈c̷̷̸̶̝̪̙̖̝̼̙͉̤̿͊ͩ̅̽̎̍͑ȩ̴̷̷̸̵̵̷͕̟͕͈̖̦͇͇͎̟͕̝̪̰̯̖͍̠̲͐͒̽͒̐̊̓̈͌̈̉͛̂͂̍̾̃̆̔̒͆̕͘̚e̷̶̸̴̶͎̻̱͎̗͈̱̯̣̜̿͂͑͐̾́͛͊́̅̊̈͗̊d̴̶̸̸̶̶̵̡̢̧̢̖̮̯̗͇̟͙̥̮̯̥̞̰̘̱́̑ͪ͑̏͛̾̄̋̌̏͛͆̓̔̄̆͆̀̀̚̕͘͜͜ ///100003 - 100003
E X P E R I E N C E ║
///✦ A THIEF BY ANY OTHER NAME ║ To list every moniker given to him and every job he's ever performed would be an exercise in futility, but for almost as long as he's lived, he's worked. None of it honestly. ///99987 - 100003
///✦ SAME JOB, DIFFERENT TOWN ║ For the past few years, Wraith has travelled the world, doing much the same he always has. Except this time, he's had a purpose other than survival; a search, still ongoing. ///100003 - 100005
Y O U R S O U L & H E A R T Y O U R S O U L & H E A R T
✦ RESOURCEFUL ✦ CUNNING ✦ ADAPTABLE ✦ SELFISH ✦
P E R S O N A L I T Y ║
Having long since learnt that knowledge is power, Wraith lets slip very little of himself or his intentions. Some things, however, can be surmised easily enough. For one, Wraith is reserved, keeping to himself in every sense of the word; he abhors physical proximity as much as emotional, and is at his most comfortable (which is to say, not very) when at an arm's length away from others. What he isn't is shy; when he does decide to talk, he does so with deadpan confidence and the boldness of someone who never quite learnt how and when to stay his tongue. In a similar vein, insults from most others don't seem to bother him either, and though he can certainly display frustration, he doesn't anger easily.
Curiosity is a vice Wraith has suffered from for the longest while, and try as he might, he cannot keep it completely under wraps. Some say his cowardice is another, perhaps even worse vice, though Wraith considers it his greatest asset. It's his alertness and willingness to drop whoever might slow him down that has gotten him this far - and he isn't about to stop anytime soon. If you can trust anything about this halfling, it's his determination to see the morrow.
✦ GYTEUS ✦ ✦ GYTEUS ✦
D E V O T I O N ║
Though not the most devout when it comes to matters of faith, Wraith finds no harm in welcoming divine help if any is to be distributed. He worships Gyteus come the darkest hour of the night, whispering the secrets of others into shadows, so that his own secret may stay safe.
M O T I V A T I O N & I M P E T U S M O T I V A T I O N & I M P E T U S
A halfling of ill-repute has little hope for honest work, less so with a branded face. Ordel'ai welcomes all desperate enough to delve within, and promises riches to those who make it out besides - and sometimes to change your life, you must first risk it.
T H E T R A P P I N G S T H E T R A P P I N G S
A P P E A R A N C E ║
Short and unassuming even when compared to his kin, Wraith is easy to miss in a crowd - and that is by design. Standing a few inches short of three feet, he comes across as little more than a mobile pile of tattered clothes, scurrying from shadow to shadow. Even when standing still, his posture is poor and stance wary, as if the slightest sound could spur him into a run.
Cloaked in hood and a mask, few are those who have caught a glimpse of the halfling's face - but those who have, cannot say they've forgotten. A past magical injury has branded him, carving blue veins into the skin below his eyes. They ripple as if made of liquid, an occasional shimmer giving them an eerie hue. Their shade is a turquoise similar to his eyes; sharp, unnatural, unnerving.
Though Wraith comes across as unarmed at a glance, no self-respecting warrior truly assumes him to be such. Halflings always carry blades, the smart ones two, and the ones that live the longest as many as they can. Wraith intends to live long.
Feeling nothing but grass and branches under his palm, the mounting ire of withdrawal eventually shook Duncan from his stupor. With a groan and much more effort than it should've taken, he opened his eyes to a mess of slanted branch and bush. Realization didn't hit him, it seeped into his blurry mind like water to a rag. So it... hadn't been a dream? Everything hurt, worse than a dozen instances of post-practice soreness and hangover combined, so probably not. He'd probably actually fought a bear.
Duncan's eyes trailed from the makeshift ceiling, still unable to focus, and he startled the second he realized he wasn't alone.
"... Babe?!" he asked once her features registered, voice rife with surprise and relief. He hadn't seen her during that entire fight, and hadn't known if that meant she was safe, or dead. Looking at her now, she almost seemed to be in pain for a moment - but then she pulled out his cigs, and Duncan forgot all about everything else. His throat burned from the need of them. He knew they'd help with the headache, too. They always did. Reflexively, Duncan reached for the box, only for her to pull it away; he sight of a lifesaver yanked from someone about to drown. Why?! Screw food and drink! Brows furrowed, he slurred: "Babe, I... need t-"
It took so long for him to form a sentence, that by the time he remembered what letter came next, he'd already gotten company. Maki. Daisuke. They joined Haruko by his side, and gradually, his mind anchored into the moment. He was poked with a foot and grabbed by the shoulders, and though every touch against sore muscles made him ache even worse, he was glad. Glad to be able to feel pain at all; glad Maki and Daisuke were alive to cause it. The last he'd seen of Maki among the chaos, she'd looked rough. And Daisuke... well, Duncan was less worried about him. No way the dude'd die before he'd beaten him at least once.
"Bro, what?" Duncan tried to laugh, but it came out a cough. Talking was already easier, though. "'Course I can chew, I'm... just tired, not like... teethless and old, or somethin'." He reached for the plate, not having realized how hungry he was before he could smell the meat. He didn't even think to question where it came from. In between laboured bites - and a glance at Haruko; look, he was eating now, okay! - he looked around as if in search for something.
"Hey... where's Yuki?" he chewed. It only hurt a little. "And, uh," he almost didn't want to ask - they did hang out in completely different circles for a reason - but he had to, weird as it might sound. "Where's Asahi?" Feeling clearer with each bite swallowed, Duncan's eyes trailed back down to his own body. By the time he saw his own torso, he remembered. "Where the fuck are my guts?!"
What he meant to ask was "what happened to them, weren't they literally hanging out of my goddamn chest," but in his current state, more-so than usual, eloquence was neither his strong suit nor his priority.
<Snipped quote by Vertigo> Hmm. Considering all those options could be accomplished veer the Shadow Magic move, I'm going to assume 'no'.
Oh shit, I forgot about the Shadow Magic move. Makes sense then.
Magic hat for items it is! Will see if I go with that or the upgrade to Studying Someone, that seems like it'd be narratively cool too. Gonna settle on one before my next post at least.
And alright! Was mostly thinking in terms like... okay I don't actually have a good example thought up, but like if someone was all "I need help flying over there" would the Darkness grant temporary flight for a price? Or if someone went "I need them to leave me alone" would the Darkness hurt the drake being talked about to keep them away? Or "I need a friend" = bam the Darkness just turned someone into a friend via shadow corruption stuff!
These are not Fellwing examples, ha, just my tired 2AM brain ones.
Thinking of grabbing Wyrmtongue for the advancement (definitely grabbing a move regardless).
WYRMTONGUE: Return a Gem and ask the Darkness for something you need. The DM will tell you what it costs. If you pay the price, the Darkness will deliver it.
Question though, does the "something you need" and "deliver it" mean like... a physical thing, like an object, or also more abstract things?
Fellwing did have to admit that at least this once, teamwork truly did help their cause. Much faster than she'd expected, the ground under them turned solid the way it had in her vision, with familiar vines looming wherever they looked. They made her feel uneasy. Who was to say they weren't going to end up entangled like the very dragons they were here to save?
"Be careful," she whispered, more out of habit than necessity. No one was going to go near the thorns on purpose, she wagered.
Just then, she heard something. Wings still glued to her sides, Fellwing craned her neck towards the sound, eyes wide from disbelief. She hadn't heard old Endora's voice in what felt like ages, but there was no mistaking it. She'd spent countless hours listening to her, and even now, in this moon-forsaken place, her voice filled the young drake with relief.
No. She quickly shook away that thought. Any relief she felt was misplaced. Endora could not be here, and as far as Fellwing was aware, the old dragon didn't have the magic to communicate from far away. Surely, if that was something the Moons - or indeed, the Darkness - could grant her, she would've told her years ago.
But then, how...? Eyes narrow, Fellwing walked a few steps past Stargaze, who'd been leading the way, and surveyed the area. Were they no longer alone? Had someone - something - spotted them? Or could it really be...
Just in case, she leaned closer to the others and asked, hesitant: "Did... did you hear that?"
Fellwing Surveys an Area, and with a 4, doesn't see shit.
Leon wasn't sure what sort of reaction he'd expected from the girl. Perhaps a passing, hungry look, or a glint in the corner of her eye at the thought of such a delicacy existing within reach. Leon had known hunger; he knew the spark the mere mention of food could ignite, and this girl looked, frankly, famished. Was she?
... The jury was still out on that one, but she certainly had dealt with nobles before. Leon was taken aback by her answer, smooth yet sharp, and it took him a few seconds too many to conceal it.
"First dibs?" he laughed, first genuinely nervous, then somewhat-less-genuinely amused. The way he'd been taught. "Come now, I'm not-- suggesting we eat it raw," he managed to wrinkle his nose as if the thought alone was preposterous, and gave the girl a look that bordered on pity - the kind a noble ought to give someone like her.
Someone like us.
"I was merely... making an observation, in case you'd never seen one before, and weren't in the know. Nothing mor-" He'd just found his rhythm and tone when Alphonse cut in with a dose of convenient curiosity, and made Leon scramble for a proper face to pull again. What was he even supposed to say to that, except-- "For Yhirel's sake, no one's eating it, petals or no! I wasn't--"
He was cut off again, though this time the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Yhirel bless, he could have kissed whoever it was that strode over to them - except it was the Galbian princess.
Startled by the sudden proximity of someone important enough for him to remember, Leon stepped away like she stank. His gaze trailed to what she was cooing at, and quickly realized it was the baby wyvern. His brow quirked. Really? Yeah, sure, the baby lizard was cute and all, but to go this crazy over it? Wasn't she-- wasn't she concerned about how she came across? Then again, royalty probably didn't need to be. All they had to do was be born, and the world would cater to them regardless.
Speaking of people used to being catered to - Leon raised his gaze from Sherry's antics only to startle out of his wits. A yet another soul dead-set on making him suffer had joined the fray. Leonid didn't recognize her, but she was the quintessential noble; prim, proper - insufferable. Oh, and definitely dangerous. Leon could see the glint in her eye, like a feline toying with a prey before the kill. All of a sudden, their silly little flower debate felt like a matter of life and death.
Leon decided then and there that if he didn't want someone finding out his ruse, it was definitely her.
"Well now, wasn't aware the fine folks of house Ciran had such bleeding hearts! Wish I could say the same about myself, truly, but regretfully I care more about my health than a potential insult towards a lowborn. I mean, have you any idea the amount of diseases they may carry?" Leon shook his head to accentuate his point, even as his own skin prickled from the insults. He didn't even dare look towards the blue-haired girl. She'd really gotten the short end of the stick here, huh. "The girl will live. I'm sure she's been through worse than a refused gift."
Like, you know, his whole spiel just now.
Stubbornly, and hopefully more casually than it felt, Leon held eye contact with the Ciran girl for as long as she did - only to practically heave a sigh of relief when she looked away. That was definitely his cue. "Well, I enjoyed all this floral discourse immensely, but we are holding up the tour. So if you'll excuse me--" With a quick bow, Leon whirled around on his heels, quitting their impromptu floral club before it attracted any more members.
Please, Yhirel, let the other half of the house be normal.
Garrock just wants some semblance of empathy at this point. He's tired, feels the group want rid of him and just wants to feel that someone in the group doesn't hate or want rid of him.
Oh noooo, Garrock ),:
Probably makes sense for me to go again for the other group, will do it tonight when I get a chance to write again. Also err, failed a Survey the Area roll, rip. But so, just to check, does the 4 I rolled for the mystery roll count as a miss? Cause if so, that's 5 exp and an advancement at least, so I'll pick something tonight. If not, disregard this!
"What is gone from sight should not be gone from mind. That is how fools lose their coin, and despots their life."
T H E S K U L L T H E S K U L L
N A M E ║ Whatever other name they once carried has been lost to time; now, he is Wraith. A G E ║ 23 - 99 982 TK G E N D E R ║ He/they R A C E ║ Halfling S U B -R A C E ║ Provincial M A G I C ║ n/a
T H E S P I N E T H E S P I N E
T O W N ║ Terecél R E G I O N ║ Northeast of the Nordan Lengths P O P U L A T I O N ║ ~10k C E N S U S ║ Mostly humans, though the city sees a decent and surprising mix of folks from all races, united in their desire to learn. T R A D E ║ Home to one of the largest libraries left in Goan, Terecél's greatest exports are the many scholars it produces. N A M E S A K E ║ Said to be the opening words to an ancient incantation for prosperity.
✦ ✦ ✦
P A R E N T ║ Delajah Myrthworth (mother †) P A R E N T ║ Friedehar Myrthworth (father †) O T H E R ║ T'haleus Thinebellow, a famous scholar, who once came to him with an offering.
L I M B S L I M B S
W E A P O N 1 ║ A serrated dagger, with runes running along the length of the blade. Those in the know call it the Essence Reaver. Wraith calls it a dagger. It's safe to assume that whenever his hands aren't in sight, they're hovering near its hilt. W E A P O N 2 ║ Shortbow, made for his size. A R M O R ║ Leather armour, hidden underneath a black, hooded cloak. T R I N K E T ║A quill, with its ink long gone and its tips torn from travel. He has never been seen writing with it.
P E C K S ║ 170 pecks; more when he next sees a pocket. B A C K P A C K ║ ///✦ Spare clothes ///✦ Crowbar ///✦ Ball bearings ///✦ Tinderbox ///✦ Small mirror ///✦ Lock picking equipment ///✦ Rations ///✦ Waterskin ///✦ Vials of poison ///✦ Arrows
T H E F L E S H & M U S C L E T H E F L E S H & M U S C L E
𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖗 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖗
S U B L C A S S ║ Scoundrel
Rules are only ever as solid as society's ability to enforce them, and scoundrels know how to make that task difficult indeed. Abandoned by goodwill, they live on the outskirts of cities and towns, skulk through shadows unseen, and make their living through any means necessary. Quick, nimble and unpredictable, they are not afraid to employ dirty tactics if it means they get to live another day.
The good ones do their deeds before anyone notices anything amiss, their heists the topic of many a bardsong. The best ones are not sung about - for to this day, no one realizes their crimes took place at all. Those who have incurred the wrath of a scoundrel better fear every drop of wine, every loose sleeve, and every splotch of darkness that marks the alleys between here and home.
▮▮▮▮▮ ║ ▮▮▮▮▮
BLINK AND YOU'LL-- ║
The winglings were once very powerful illusionists, and while they have lost their control over magic it's instead embedded itself within them. They can blend into their surroundings without so much thought. They can be tactically invisible three times a day. Meaning they aren't entirely unseen, but they are far harder to perceive with normal means. A secret coin toss will decide this.
TAKE ANOTHER STAB ║
If you mess up, you can center yourself and call upon steady hands and a clear mind to try a challenge again. Once a delve, you can reroll anything that required a coin flip.
✦ ✦ ✦
UNIVERSAL KEY ║ RANK 1
EXPERTISE ║ EXPLORATION ║ UTILITY Wraith is an expert at knowing where he isn't wanted - and going there anyway. Performs a quick feat of skill with their tools, such as picking a lock or disarming a trap.
THE WEAPON OF COWARDS ║ RANK 1
EXPERTISE ║ ATTACK ║ RANGED/MELEE The only thing deadlier than a blade is a blade coated with poison - or a drink spiked with it. For three rounds, the target must flip a coin at the start of their turn, taking 1 health damage on a failure. If by the third round they've taken no damage, they instantly take 1 health damage instead.
LAST LEGS ║ RANK 1
EXPERTISE ║ AID ║ SELF More than once, Wraith has been likened to a cockroach. He thinks it a compliment; they are, after all, notoriously hard to kill. For the next round, anyone targeting the user with an attack or a harmful effect must flip an extra coin to succeed.
Y O U R B R A I N & N E R V E S Y O U R B R A I N & N E R V E S
S T U D Y ║
///✦ THE STREETS OF TÉRECEL ║ The only place of study Wraith ever truly attended. The streets taught him everything he is and isn't, the difference (and the overlap) between should and could, and everything there is to know about the world that doesn't want him. /// 99982 - 100003
///✦ THE EVERGLADE INSTITUTE OF MAGIC ║ During his brief stint at the academy, Wraith wt̸̷̶̵̷̗͉̰̯͕̗̬̑̃̈́̆ͦ̒ͯ̽̋̕̚h̴̸̶̶̸̶̷̢̼͈̖͙̲̥̭̦̳̪̱̠̬̠̊̓̂̌̽̈́̀̅̑̈́̈́͗̂͆̈́͛͜͟ͅȩ̵̸̷̶̵̷̦̻̬͓̯͇͎̗̪̻̻̃̒̎͒̆̉̌̈́̎́̇͌̕͝͠y̵̵̵̵̵̶̶̵̸̡̨̩̟̦̳̖͙̦͖̣̥͍̺͕̝̠̯͍ͥ͛̽̋͊̍̑̍͒͆͋̉͗̏̓̏̕͘͜͜͠͠͠͝͠͝ͅ ̸̴̧͚͓͙̩̬̌̾̃͘̚҉̸̸̶̴͎̼̪̜̹̺̤̳͔̅̍̑͛̀͒̀̕͜d̸̷̶̵̶̸̪͕̳̱͎͕̩̺̥͇̖̰̫̦͖̭̞̭̈́̀̈́͆̒́̐̄͑̏ͩ̈́̉̔͒̕̕͘͠͝͝͝i̴̵̵̵̵̶̶̢̛̼̣͎͇͍̱̦̦͕̜̟̺̮̜͍̠̳͔͍̎͑̐̀̌̾̂̓͋̈́̔̑͑͑̂̔̐͋̋͘͝d̷̵̸̸̵̶̸̷̢̨̖̙̠̻̜̰͎͙͈̠̰͍̤̹͖͖̜͎̱̽̽̊̽̎͗̊̋̌̀̈́̔̅̀̕͜͜͝ ̵̵̶̸̴̶̢̧̪̳͇̱͍̤͉͚̆́͌͂̓͛͋̽̒̒̋͐͗̒̍̕͜͝ͅṱ̷̸̷̸̵̷̴̶̢̢̛̘̗̙̲̲͎͚̥̱̬͓͚̖̭̣̘͇̠̞̑̑̽̅ͧ̈̓́͐̇̃̇͐͐̕͘̕͜͜͝ͅḙ̷̶̴̵̴̸̸̷̷̢̡̮͓͎̯͇͖̘̱̳̦͙̺̦̪̣̼̪̦̣̇̎̈́̄̉͊̃͗̓̂̾̄̒̈́̓́̂̈̕͘͜͜͠s̷̵̵̴̸̵̴̵̷̸̨̧̛̻̟̜͚̭̩̖̦̦̪̮͕̦̹̙̭͕̬̦͖͇͖̲̲̳̥̗̰̝̳̩̒̐̅̀͛͒̈́̉̀̈͌̒̄͒̄͌͛̆͘̚͝͝ţ̷̶̵̸̶̛̬͈̰̺̼̳͉̦̱͖̜̙͛̉͗̅̑̾͂̍̽̔͗͌̆͗͊̚͘͘͟͠͝s̴̵̷̵̴̵̨̧͙̱͙̤̺̠͉͓̹͍̗͙̃̅̒͋̊̔̽̈̀̑̏̔̔̒̓̚̕ ̶̸̶̵̵͕͇̳͇̪̼͍͓͑̅̈́͛̾̊̑͂̽̓̕̚̚͝n̴̷̷̯̞͉̙̯̜͚͇̋͑̅̏̎̔͛̌͡d̵̷̸̵̴̴̵̸̴̷̸̢͖͇̙̲̯̮̖̙̬̝͙̗̦̳̜̖͎̱̙̫̲̝̼̀͋ͧ̎͊̓̌ͩ̂̎͒̓̊̒̒̈̃̽͛͑̽͌̽͑̎̄͘̚͘͝͝ͅ ̶̶̸̵̶̶̴̸̡̧̢͔̻͎͎̰͓͎͔̯̟͈̖͙͒̇ͧ̍͌̐ͦ̐́ͮ̐̏̈́̈̎͌͛̐̌͛͝͝ẗ̵̵̸̸̷̶̶̛͙̥̠̦͉͉̙͇̰͍̘͙̦̯͖̳̉͛̿̽̇̅͂̒̑̿̐̓͛͐̕͝͝͠h̸̸̶̶̶̴̢͈͍̟͎̭̫̙̻͓̘̰̱̬͒̆̅̈́̑̒̽̊͒̃͛͐̕͘̚͜͝͝e̵̵̷̸̶̲̪̟̜̼͍̘̥͕͊̄̈́̽̎̾̓̈̂̒̀͢͝y̴̵̷̵̴̵̧͎͔͓̹͔͍̪̭͚̰̔̍ͣ̈̽ͩ̇̒͛̑ ̸̵̵̴̸̸̨̧̢̢̡̲͖̯͇̭̺͔͇̖̰̱̤̤͛͐̈́ͯ̈̏͂͌̃̄͊͗̈́̇̕͠ͅd̸̶̶̴̨̛̖̲̰̗̝̥̘̗̞̳̪̥̜̄̊̅́̅̇̽͆̅̚̕̚̕ḯ̸̵̝̺͍͈̩̳̊͗̃͘͝ḍ̵̷̷̷̖̱̱̖͇̤͇̏̂̑ͮ̋̑̎̽͗͗̅̽͜͝͠͝ ̸̶̷̯̩͉̼͈̻ͤ̾͑͗̏̕̚̕̕͜͏̷̎ń̷̸̸̸̴͓̜̝͚̦̤͇̹̻̺̣̔̏̿̋́̐̉̓̈̓́̚ơ̷̸̶̸̸̷̵̴̴̡̡̨̢̧̤̮̦̰̥̬̗̥̩̥̠̜̞̝͕̱̫̑̓͑̏̌̉̎͐̿̽̽͋̔̊̀̀́̚͜͝͝ţ̷̷̵̶̴̷̴̛̯̻̣̫̪̺̹̰̟̥̜͉̰̤̰̰̘̀̊ͣ́̒͐̍ͬ̀̽̒̈́̀̍̈̀̒͘͜͟͝͠ ̴̸̸̵̙̭̮̬̙̘̺̎͂̃̈́̍̀̓̐̔̀̋͠͝s̵̸̴̵̴̸̴̸̨̧̡̧̡̡̩̰̜̯̹̦̥͕͖̫͚͙̘̲̣̼̀͗̀͐ͬ͊̓̅̍̎͌ͫ̓̈́̊͌͛͌̑́̐͘ù̵̶̵̵̷̧̢͎͎̼̦͖̺͈̺͙̝͔̩̑̋̓̉̂̍̋̓̆̅̐̿͘͜͠͝͏̷͒c̷̭̫͙̈c̷̷̸̶̝̪̙̖̝̼̙͉̤̿͊ͩ̅̽̎̍͑ȩ̴̷̷̸̵̵̷͕̟͕͈̖̦͇͇͎̟͕̝̪̰̯̖͍̠̲͐͒̽͒̐̊̓̈͌̈̉͛̂͂̍̾̃̆̔̒͆̕͘̚e̷̶̸̴̶͎̻̱͎̗͈̱̯̣̜̿͂͑͐̾́͛͊́̅̊̈͗̊d̴̶̸̸̶̶̵̡̢̧̢̖̮̯̗͇̟͙̥̮̯̥̞̰̘̱́̑ͪ͑̏͛̾̄̋̌̏͛͆̓̔̄̆͆̀̀̚̕͘͜͜ ///100003 - 100003
E X P E R I E N C E ║
///✦ A THIEF BY ANY OTHER NAME ║ To list every moniker given to him and every job he's ever performed would be an exercise in futility, but for almost as long as he's lived, he's worked. None of it honestly. ///99987 - 100003
///✦ SAME JOB, DIFFERENT TOWN ║ For the past few years, Wraith has travelled the world, doing much the same he always has. Except this time, he's had a purpose other than survival; a search, still ongoing. ///100003 - 100005
Y O U R S O U L & H E A R T Y O U R S O U L & H E A R T
✦ RESOURCEFUL ✦ CUNNING ✦ ADAPTABLE ✦ SELFISH ✦
P E R S O N A L I T Y ║
Having long since learnt that knowledge is power, Wraith lets slip very little of himself or his intentions. Some things, however, can be surmised easily enough. For one, Wraith is reserved, keeping to himself in every sense of the word; he abhors physical proximity as much as emotional, and is at his most comfortable (which is to say, not very) when at an arm's length away from others. What he isn't is shy; when he does decide to talk, he does so with deadpan confidence and the boldness of someone who never quite learnt how and when to stay his tongue. In a similar vein, insults from most others don't seem to bother him either, and though he can certainly display frustration, he doesn't anger easily.
Curiosity is a vice Wraith has suffered from for the longest while, and try as he might, he cannot keep it completely under wraps. Some say his cowardice is another, perhaps even worse vice, though Wraith considers it his greatest asset. It's his alertness and willingness to drop whoever might slow him down that has gotten him this far - and he isn't about to stop anytime soon. If you can trust anything about this halfling, it's his determination to see the morrow.
✦ GYTEUS ✦ ✦ GYTEUS ✦
D E V O T I O N ║
Though not the most devout when it comes to matters of faith, Wraith finds no harm in welcoming divine help if any is to be distributed. He worships Gyteus come the darkest hour of the night, whispering the secrets of others into shadows, so that his own secret may stay safe.
M O T I V A T I O N & I M P E T U S M O T I V A T I O N & I M P E T U S
A halfling of ill-repute has little hope for honest work, less so with a branded face. Ordel'ai welcomes all desperate enough to delve within, and promises riches to those who make it out besides - and sometimes to change your life, you must first risk it.
T H E T R A P P I N G S T H E T R A P P I N G S
A P P E A R A N C E ║
Short and unassuming even when compared to his kin, Wraith is easy to miss in a crowd - and that is by design. Standing a few inches short of three feet, he comes across as little more than a mobile pile of tattered clothes, scurrying from shadow to shadow. Even when standing still, his posture is poor and stance wary, as if the slightest sound could spur him into a run.
Cloaked in hood and a mask, few are those who have caught a glimpse of the halfling's face - but those who have, cannot say they've forgotten. A past magical injury has branded him, carving blue veins into the skin below his eyes. They ripple as if made of liquid, an occasional shimmer giving them an eerie hue. Their shade is a turquoise similar to his eyes; sharp, unnatural, unnerving.
Though Wraith comes across as unarmed at a glance, no self-respecting warrior truly assumes him to be such. Halflings always carry blades, the smart ones two, and the ones that live the longest as many as they can. Wraith intends to live long.
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wanderingwolf
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