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  #1  
Old Feb 26th, 2021, 11:44 AM
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The Midlanders

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Old Feb 26th, 2021, 12:53 PM
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Narro Tholan
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Name: Narro Tholan

Ancestry: Human

Heritage: Versatile

Background: Frontier Farmer

Class: Fighter

Description Narro is an inch over six feet tall, and weighs a muscular lean two hundred and twenty five pounds. It's clear that her armor, weapons and garments are piecemeal and picked up from here and there, but that doesn't mean she's any less the fighter by the way she carries them and herself.
Her common look is spear in hand, armor, and shield, with a sheathed blade, light pack and flail in her belt.

Character backstory The only sad part of Narro's tale is that it is almost truly without flair, being quite mundane and boring. Her Grandfather raised her on a small farm that some said was on the Frontier of far from Dunmark, while others would say it was on the extreme outskirts of Dunmark. Whatever the case, her mother died of disease when she was a toddler, and her father, she has no idea. When in his cups, her grandfather would mention her father to be a mighty hunter, and this is where she got her size and stamina from. She learned to be a decent farmer, but she never learned to love it. She kept to it, picking up some fighting skills from a local hunter who taught her to defend their farm given her grandfather's health was in decline.
He passed recently, and she found he didn't actually own the farm, but leased it. She sold the pitiful livestock they had left and it was with this coin that she adorned herself in adventurer's attire and went into Dunmark looking for exactly that - adventure.

Goals: Narro wants to make her own way in the world, earning a lot of coin, bettering her skills and gear, gaining notoriety, and taking her more than a decade's worth of anger out of highwaymen, and monsters. She isn't looking to join a restrictive group, like the town guard, though she might join up with like-minded souls, or even a rather free merc group. She is bursting at the seams to make a difference, and be free of the shackles of that farm that is long behind her (though it's only been a day or so).
Fortunately, she was raised by a moral man, and won't take what isn't hers from honest folk, or step on the low in status, stature, or sustenance. For others... pity on those others who she things stand in her way, man or beast.
 


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Last edited by Drachenspirit; Jun 2nd, 2021 at 07:31 PM.
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Old Feb 26th, 2021, 01:46 PM
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Wilmot Brown
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Name: Wilmot Brown

Ancestry: Human

Heritage: Versatile

Background: Guilt-ridden Survivor

Class: Cleric

Description Wilmot is an eccentric fellow, in looks and in habits. Always seen puffing on his long pipe, long unkempt hair billowing in the wind. The man looks as if he is lost to reality... always as if he would rather be somewhere else. Will, in conversation comes across as warm and quite genial even though his smile quickly disappears when the conversation ends. The tall, slight man, the way he looks at you, always seems to be... not quite judging you... but somehow finding you wanting none the less.

Character backstory Wilmot had plans as a child... plans that revolved around dusty tomes... solitary study all in the service of further knowledge. It was a selfish plan... designed to feed his own needs and with no thoughts of how it might effect anyone else. As a result he was an insular child, more interested in his books than people. He would gain entry into the Royal College.

He certainly did not engage in or have any desire to learn the lessons of the sword and shield. It was not part of his plan... but then again... neither was the murder of his sister. When the killer entered his small shack... the lone inheritance from his long dead parents, Wilmot tried to fight... it was a pitiful show. He was 15... his sister 18. Wimot was beaten unconscious and when he awoke... his sister was gone.

The guilt almost drove Wilmot to end his life... somedays the thought still haunts him. The killer had stolen from the family in the past. Rather than confront the man, Wilmot had approached it as an intellectual challenge... he would design a trap for the man. His failure had emboldened the killer... and now Wilmot was left with an inner hatred that threatened to destroy him.

It was a priestess of Argona that saved Wimot's shattered soul. She gently showed him that surrendering to his grief and anger was too fail again. Instead, she said, he could make it his life's work to protect others from feeling the same loss... pain... hurt. Wilmot swore, in his sister's name, that he would spend the rest of his days being the protector that he had once failed to be.

Goals: Wilmot strives to protect those who cannot help themselves. The world is full of evil. The murderer of his sister was never found... most likely it was a person with friends... friends with the resources to protect the guilty. He would be in Dunmark to visit the Dead Tree. His sister loved the story of the tree and always spoke of visiting... she never got the chance. Wilmot visited after his sister disappeared and left a memento of hers behind. He has tried to come visit whenever he can... at least once a year but unfortunately Wilmot has not been back in years.


WIP Character creation Ancestry: Human 8 HP, 25 ft, 2 free boosts
Cleric: Wis Boost| 8 HP+Con
Background: Intelligence ability boost and a Wisdom ability boost, Academia Lore, Genealogy Lore, Library Lore, and Scribing Lore, Snare Crafting skill feat, and a second wisdom boost
Player Choice: 4 Free Boosts


 
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Last edited by Begon Ugo; Feb 26th, 2021 at 06:10 PM.
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Old Feb 26th, 2021, 03:59 PM
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Character
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Lothar Jurant
  • Name: Lothar Jurant
  • Ancestry: Midlander Human
  • Heritage: Skilled (Athletics)
  • Background: Ability boost to intelligence and charisma, trained in diplomacy and ship lore, hefty hauler skill feat
  •  
  • Class: Investigator (Forensic Medicine)
Description: Lothar Jurant is a handsome young man in his early twenties who wears his black hair swept back and his face clean-shaven. He has green eyes that observe his surroundings with curiosity and deep intelligence. He is of average height and not of imposing build, but his movements have the studied grace of someone who is either a noble or who has spent a good deal of time around nobles. As he is typically wearing fairly plain clothes, it would be a likely inference to the latter.

Current Goals: Lothar is currently looking to broaden his experiences. In particular, he is interested in learning more about magic and alchemy after what happened with his mother; first-hand knowledge about the peoples and cultures of other nations and regions. As a tertiary goal, he hasn't seen much of Argosa aside from Port Brax and the docks of Crow's Keep and Northgate, and he wouldn't mind seeing more of his nation and learning about the people that live there.

Backstory
Lothar was born to Bennett and Isolde Jurant of Port Brax. His father owned a small cargo ship that would be hired by merchants to carry cargo around Lake Argos, particularly between Port Brax, Northgate, and Crow's Keep. Lothar had a happy childhood, starting to help out with the family business around eight years of age. His parents were surprised at how quickly he learned things, he displayed a love for knots in particular, and no matter how complex the knot, he only had to be shown it once before he could tie it. When he wasn't working, Lothar loved to swim and took to it like a fish. By the age of 10, he was regularly riding on his father's boat, learning to sail, to navigate, and how to load and balance loads on a ship. By the time he was twelve he had made some suggestions to improve efficiency, which improved the business income.

Gregor Heaton was enjoying his morning walk along the docks when he came across a bemusing sight, a loud argument between a merchant and a boy who couldn't be more than twelve years old. Gregor paused to lean against the dock railing and lit his pipe, grateful for something interesting to watch. Recently retiring after years of working for Lord Fields as an investigator and troubleshooter, Gregor was having a hard time adjusting to days full of nothing to do.

As he listened, Gregor determined the facts of the argument. The boy was stubbornly refusing to accept the merchant's cargo on the basis that it had been robbed. He argued that the knots around the cargo on the dock, which had been tied last night. were now tied backward, which meant that at some point they were untied, and then retied by someone left-handed. As the merchant's guard had watched the cargo last night and was there until the merchant arrived this morning, it was currently the merchant's problem, but if the boy accepted them, only to find out they were empty at the destination, then the merchant could blame the shipowner. The angry merchant was jostling the crates as best he was able, pointing out that if they had been emptied, they wouldn't have so much weight.

His interest piqued, Gregor stepped in and suggested they open a crate to settle the matter. The merchant, who had already refused such a suggestion from the boy, was immediately cowed by Gregor's demeanor, honed by years of acting at the authority of the nobility. The boy helped untie a section of the crates while the merchant retrieved a crowbar, only muttering slightly. After a few moments of straining the lid was off, and the merchant stood staring in the crate, his triumphant look sliding sickly off his face as his face turned white. Gregor stepped forward to look in the crate, which was empty save for sandbags filling about a fifth of the crates. Gregor glanced back at the boy, who just shrugged at him. Moving suddenly, with the blood flushing back into his face, the merchant frantically worked the lid off of another crate, then a third. They were all the same as the first. The merchant hurled the crowbar onto the dock hard enough to send splinters flying.
"I've been robbed!" the merchant shouted, stating the obvious.
Gregor wiped his hand down his face, covering a grin, "If they had enough time to empty your cargo, refill them with sandbags, and tie it all back together, and your guard wasn't harmed, then he was either sleeping, left, or was in on it. Perhaps you should start there?" he suggested.

The merchant stormed off, shouting for the city watch. Gregor watched him go a moment, before turning to look at the boy, who was moving the crowbar out of where it might get stepped on.
"That was clever boy. What's your name?" he asked.
The boy knuckled his forehead, "Lothar, sir. Just looking out for my dad's business. Now I've got work to do." the boy said before turning and darting up the gangway of a small ship nearby.

Gregor asked around the next few days, gathering information on the Jurant family before approaching Lothar's parents and discussing their son's future. Being well aware of their son's intelligence and realizing the opportunity this represented for his future, they agreed that in two years time Lothar would enter an apprenticeship with Gregor. And so at fifteen years of age Lothar started a new life. He missed the leisure of swimming between cargo runs, but he loved all the new ideas and concepts he was learning.

Gregor taught him a wide range of skills, he learned to fight, to listen, to see. He learned to study subjects for clues and for weaknesses, and he learned the danger of being to certain in his inferences. He was also routinely mocked by Gregor when he struggled to carry all the gear they needed to work, which led to Lothar devising a better way to distribute the weight by altering the straps in the gear cases. Perhaps his most important growth came in his fourth year of training when Gregor and himself assisted the Watch in tracking down a serial killer known as the Dockside Strangler. Lothar learned an immense amount about anatomy and forensic study that year, setting his mind on his preferred subject of study. It was also this year that his mother became sick with the plague. Gregor introduced him to a woman named Nyssa who gave Isolde a potion that quickly had her back on her feet. Strongly suspecting some form of magic, Gregor told him sometimes you need to work with questionable people who have skills you don't and that you need. After five years of training, Gregor declared Lothar had learned all he reasonably could without the unpredictability of the field.

Gregor introduced Lothar to Lord Fields, who took him into his service. For over a year Lothar worked closely with the Fields family to solve mysteries, gather information, and solve problems. Then Lord Fields presented him a letter with a new mission. It read simply: You are a valued and trusted agent, but you are new and untempered. I need you to go out, live a little, test yourself, then return to my service. I suggest you head to Dunmark. Look around, get in some trouble. See where it takes you. -F


 


Character Sheet

Last edited by Brian; Mar 1st, 2021 at 03:08 AM. Reason: Character Sheet
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Old Feb 26th, 2021, 07:08 PM
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SkiffName: Skiff

Character Sheet

 


Ancestry: Human (Midlander)

Heritage: Versatile

Background:
 

Class: Bard

Description: Heavily tanned with shoulder-length brown hair, Skiff is a tall, lithe human woman with dark brown come-hither eyes, a pouty mouth, and broad, dark eyebrows that are quick to show anger or pleasure. Living the life of a bard, she travels light, wearing simple leather armor and loose-fitting cotton garments. Her boots go near to her knees, and they’ve seen both the salt of the sea and the dust of the trail. Skiff has a pretty smile… but she only really shares it when she’s performing for a paying crowd. Beyond that, she keeps largely to herself.

Character backstory: ”What, you think you can just buy me a few drinks and suddenly I’m going to spill my whole life story to you? Well forget it honey. You’ll be dead drunk on the floor before I’m tipsy enough to tell you everything. Hey – I didn’t say to not buy me a drink, now did I? Rum, the darker the better. And leave the bottle.”

Skiff never knew the comfort of home and hearth, nor of even knowing a family. Her earliest memories are of life in the orphanage, an overcrowded, drab, drafty building run by an old hag. She was abandoned there at some point, same as the other brats, is what Mistress Lenetta always said, in between doling out some foul-tasting gruel or administering punishment in the form of slaps. Skiff never even had her own bed, much less a name of her own. Her only worldly possession was a pocketwatch on a chain, with a weathered photo of a man and woman inside. On the back, the mysterious engraving – To VB from FM. There was no one else but the mistress and her wards at the orphanage, along with Mr. Parker, who came to refill the coal bin every few weeks or so. The room was never warm enough, the blankets thin, patched affairs, and the lice were everywhere. This was her home until her sixth year, when the war came again.

It was the first time Skiff had seen soldiers, and blood, and fire not contained in a stove. One of the invaders ran Mr. Parker through with a big sword, and the nice old man who used to give her sweets spilled all his coal and all his blood on the ground. The next thing, the mistress was opening the back door and shooing out all the children into the cold, whispering for them to run, run very far. The flames were licking at nearby buildings, and it was the first time Skiff had ever seen the mistress cry. She hadn’t thought it was possible. But she was a good listener, and so she ran. Unfortunately, her legs were short and she didn’t know the world outside the orphanage, and it wasn’t long before the soldiers caught her. They wrapped her hands in a length of rough hemp rope that made her wrists hurt, and hauled her down to the wharf where she was promptly sold along with a number of other children.
She didn’t know what to expect but didn’t imagine her life continuing for much longer. When the slaver ship she was aboard was a’sail, a pirate vessel attacked a few days out of port. They killed the slavers and took the human cargo on as powder monkeys and swabbies. It was here that Skiff met the pirate who would be the closest thing to a father for her, the cox’n Handsome Jack. Jack was the navigator and took a liking to the girl who enjoyed scrubbing the deck near him. He taught her about the stars, sang to her, and even gave her the name ‘Skiff.’ She was aboard the Ruby Red until she was seventeen, when the ship foundered on the rocks during a storm, just southeast of Port Brax. Handsome Jack saved her life but ended up drowning. She had nothing but the clothes on her back, and her sailor songs.

Skiff worked her way along the coast, singing for change and a hot meal, and eventually made it to Dunmark. Where she goes from here is unclear, but she’s young and beautiful, content to be like a sail and go where the wind pushes her.

Goals: Having never had anything much of her own in the way of personal possessions, nor ever been told what sorts of things are out there in the world, Skiff is one of Fenrir’s lost wolves, looking for her place in the world. Whether that means getting involved with the ladies of the Dockside Valkyries, finding a bard’s college somewhere throughout the land, or simply finding a dive bar to sing for her drink and supper, Skiff’s goals typically go no further than her next meal – but with nothing to tie her down, she’s always up for adventure.
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Last edited by Noquarter19; Mar 1st, 2021 at 03:26 AM.
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Old Feb 26th, 2021, 10:20 PM
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Application
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Name: Diana Carter
Ancestry: Midlander (Human)
Heritage: Versatile
Background: Ability Boosts: Intelligence & Wisdom
Trained Skills: Survival & Lore (Mercantile)
Skill Feat: Experienced Tracker
Outpost Refugee
Class: Ranger (Outwit)

Role: Ranged combat, survival, creature knowledge, scouting, goal focused

Goals: Make money to improve life of family, gather information on monsters and destroy them

Description: Diana's occupation as a mercenary guard is evident to all as her gear and clothes are well-worn, practical and clearly more suited to the wilds beyond the safety of the walls. She keeps a professional, though guarded, attitude toward though she does not know well and seems to be constantly on the lookout for danger as her eyes regularly scan her surroundings. Among those she trusts she is far more relaxed, sharing stories and jokes, though still keeping up that watch for danger to any of the group.
BackstoryDiana was raised by her Aunt Eda, clerk of the Brigham Outpost general store. Helping where she could Diana was introduced to the regular merchants and the goods needed to keep the outpost running and profitable as they passed up and down the river. When her cousin Madlyn was born she and Diana quickly formed a close bond as Diana minded her while Aunt Eda worked.

Diana's childhood came to a sudden and near deadly end when Skorn breached the outpost walls. When the heavy, reverberating sound of the evacuation gong rang Diana grabbed Madlyn by the hand and fled towards the docks as she’d been instructed to do. They had not gone far before they were sent flying by a lone, thin Skorn who was clearly more interested in a chance to feed than fight. Grasping at Madlyn it drew her closer, grinning madly as she began to scream. The screams broke Diana out of her shock and fear and into action. Scrambling to her feet Diana lunged at the monster striking down at it again and again with the small blade she held. Some good fortune was with her that night as the blade struck true enough to leave it dead behind them as they escaped down the river. Aunt Eda was also one of the few who’d defended the walls that night who was able to safely retreat to the boats, keeping the small Carter family intact.

The survivors of Brigham Outpost ultimately settled into Port Brax. With few resources to draw upon to cover the costs of rebuilding a life, or to cover the bribes demanded by both the city officials and criminal gangs, the small community has remained trapped in poverty since.

As Diana began to build her adult life and work she’s begun to forge the connections needed to one day lift her family and their community out of poverty. The earliest one was made only a few days after her arrival. A man named Alden Ellsworth came by to talk to the Brigham refugees about their experience of the Skorn attack. He was a researcher, attempting to understand the threats that lay outside the walls. Diana sparked up a relationship when she demanded answers to her own questions in exchange. Fortunately Alden was willing to continue to share his own knowledge after the initial meeting and Diana acted as an assistant until she was old enough to take up mercenary work. Since then whenever Diana has returned to Port Brax she has always seen Alden to swap the knowledge they’ve collected.

Diana’s most recent mercenary job has taken her to the outpost of Dunmark for the first time. She’s looking for both work, and any information about monster activity in the area.
PC LinksInspiring Relationship (8): Missing Child When a young relative disappeared in a busy market, this character helped you question merchants and shoppers and find the child before they came to any harm. Add the Hobnobber skill feat to your background options.
I think this would be shortly after Diana and her family arrive in Port Brax. She loses track of her young cousin Madlyn and needs help finding her in the unfamiliar city.

Challenging Relationship (8): Rival Trackers You and this character worked for a time as rival hunters, whether tracking animals or escaped criminals. Add the Experienced Tracker skill feat to your background options.

Diana and Lothar ending up attempting to track down the same thief targeting a merchant caravan. Lothar because they had stolen goods purchased by Lord Fields, and Diana because the merchant had put out a bounty. Ultimately they ended up having to combine the information they'd collected and work together to catch the thief. While both came away with a respect for each other's skills they also both wonder about who is really the best.

OOC Questions & NotesHi Silent Rain, thanks for the interesting game in one of my favorite systems. I've been playing PF 2e since the playtest so got a solid understanding of the rules and am happy to help with clarifications for any new players. Would have done so during the application period, but had family visiting this week so wasn't as active as I would have liked. I've added a few notes below on how I expect Diana to play, just so I can be a bit more explicit than in the backstory, and to outline how she might regard significant aspects of the setting.
  • Monsters: Diana has an evolving definition of what of a monster is. Obviously includes Skorn, and generally any other antagonistic non-humans. I'd find the evolution of this particular definition throughout play would be very interesting given the impacts it has on her long term goals.
  • Magic: Diana considers magic a corrupting influence, with the potential to turn humans into monsters. Pragmatic enough to work alongside any casters in the party as long as they are able to hold off the corruption. Would likely consider use of magic to commit serious crimes a sign of corruption, as well as the use of mind altering spells against humans.
  • Religion: Like most Midlanders Diana worships the Seven Ancients keeping in their favor and asking for their aid. She most frequently calls upon Argona and Soliri.

 

 

 

 

Last edited by bookworm; Feb 28th, 2021 at 02:19 AM.
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Old Feb 27th, 2021, 01:12 AM
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Character Application
Name: Richard of Northgate

Ancestry: Argosan, as if I would stoop to using a common name.

Heritage: Skilled

Background: Intelligence Boost and Wisdom Boost, Genealogy Lore, Courtly Graces Skill Feat

Class: Wizard (Free Archetype: Rogue)

Description: Even when trying to blend into a crowd, Richard's life as a noble slips through. From his habit of standing straight to his slight paunch from a life well fed to his clear blue eyes seeing through the dregs and common folk of society as if they weren't there, it's hard to miss. Even his clothing, outwardly common and travel stained, will reveal higher quality fabrics and craftsmanship. The ring he wears, a garnet set into an iron band, has been a target for thieves since he set foot on the road, often only barely keeping either it or the finger upon which it rests. Even the dirt and the stains on this averagely tall man seem... purposeful. His dark black mustache and goatee growing straggly and unkempt, but not wildly so. His short dark hair is hidden by a constant droopy hood that does far less than he would like to hide his features.

Character backstory/Goals: This is the last will and testament of Richard Barot, youngest scion of his house; a confession of crimes and injustice against my person. My life as a Barot is over in finality. As with all confessions, it is best to start at the beginning. My former house is not a powerful one, not relative to the great houses. It does not bend the ear of King Uldred or even his closest allies. Our claim of nobility rests on valour in the early years of the Third Age; sweeping heroism in battle against the scorn and the thuel to draw their attention away from bastions of light and civilization. The world was ours for the taking and yet... Not four generations hence we had grown fat and slow on past legend. Our platitudes and rhetoric turned ever inward, giving praise, deification even to our forebears while the world moved on without us. As the world moved on, so did our fortunes. If not for our extensive libraries of births, marriages, and deaths we would have found ourselves destitute in the mud. The Royal College has slowly subsumed our collection over the years and it won't be but a generation until we are but agents of the College. We never quite learned our lesson, taking payment to trace the ancestries of all who asked; using the funds to pay our taxes on time and shuffle by but never improve. A waste.

I am told I have five older brothers. I've met none for any length of time that would be considered significant. The eldest Erthon, I know only by his gravemarker. He did not survive his first year. Thoamas and Luthric have been wards to the crown in Crow's Keep since they were six and eight respectively. Henryk is being groomed to lead the house when father passes and does not make time for me. Justin left early on to wear the robes of a priest of Woden. My progenitors do not have time between petty squabbles and consumate research to address my needs. In truth, I bear familial love and feel such love for only a single person related by blood; my father's brother Lothar. His visits were rare; embroiled in an iciness from all other members of the house that I could not fathom. Metaphorically, he was my father. But an absent father is not a strong role model.

I found others in similar straights; indolent and recalcitrant youth of lesser nobility, peasant boys bored with their chores and stagnation in life. Our shared nihilism and thirst for feeling bound us petty crime and pettier feuds. Bursts of colour against a grey sky. My own pedigree stopped any real consequence from affecting me, but I could not say the same for those without title. I recall an afternoon of pinching coin purses and tussles in the street. The guard, when they could ignore it no longer, placed my companions in stocks. I was dragged home with a stern warning. Nobody at the house had been aware I had been gone for five days at that point.

Although to some degree expected, this was admittedly a sore spot for the ego. One flirts with irrelevance for rebellion, not to find it to be true. I brooded on this revelation for some time as youths with more comfort than danger are wont to do. I would be complicit in my family's own sloth and self-directed duplicity if I said that I had found any satisfactory conclusions. Only that I could stagnate in my family's manse or I could strike out into the city and it's environs once more; this time dangerously alone as my little gang found itself in twilight. One could surmise that a false dichotomy, but I didn't really care. Other options seemed farfetched.

Dangerously alone may have proved the savior if one believes in fate. Without a companion to watch my back I was forced to be increasingly perceptive of the life around me. Impersonally hostile crowds going about their business without care, other thieves ripe for a young mark, red cloaked Anointed on incredibly arcane and obtuse tasks, and college students doing field work with experiments I suspected had not been sanctioned by their headmasters all became startlingly clear in their danger to my person. It was with sharper eyes that I finally cast my gaze up the Prince of Rats and he upon me.

It was in the long shadow of the Stargazer's Citadel that I watched the mass of humanity move about him as if unseen. His tattered clothing and ragged grey hair and beard bespoke a beggar like a hundred other guttertrash, but those eyes! Those hard grey eyes beckoned with an intellect and cunning greater than any philosopher moldering on shelves. He fled immediately and I gave chase without another thought. Through alleys and streets I kept sight of only the wisps of that old brown cloak until he slipped beneath the city in the darkness between a pair of bunkhouses. A prudent person would have walked away. I dove after. He grabbed me, inexplicably, from behind, his hot breath a fetid stench of carrion and fish. There was a blade at my throat, my own pressed firmly against his inner thigh. A stroke of pure luck.

After a long tense moment, I demanded to know how he did that. He laughed, a raspy guttural sound. One I would grow intimately familiar with. A trick, an illusion he coughed. A bending of the universe to his will. With his blade still at my throat I commanded him to teach me. He pressed harder. Skin broke. He whispered a location in my ear and shoved me to the ground; gone before I could recover.

Dead drops I later learnt. Snippets of wisdom, small strange tasks and searches for peculiar items passed through my hands. After a few months a great big white rat with eyes of fire opals, his familiar I would later learn, began to drop messages. After the first one, I swore I saw it everywhere. After five months I pieced together a map to his sanctum; a surprisingly dry grotto beneath the city. True education began. It took five more months to master my first cantrip. He told me I was a quick study, that horrid laugh punctuating and threatening to undermine my achievements. Things began to move quicker and I found purpose. I had known of magic my entire life, the fear it engendered in the masses and the elite alike; the murderous rage it inspired outside the lands of the Argosans. Weak-willed and shortsighted fools. This tool could easily change the lives of thousands for the betterment of all. A population with knowledge of the arcane could easily fortify our borders against aggressors, stopping wars before they could start. That was far in the future though. At present, even the ability to easily clean a space with a simple cantrip would do wonders to improve the lot of the common man; hours of labour in minutes, a bulwark against disease and rot, the time to pursue loftier goals than mere survival. We could rise above this dirty life.

Extrapolating from my previous experiences that I was ignored at home, I had taken to practicing in my quarters. This proved to be my greatest folly and an important lesson. As my progenitors ignored me, so to did I ignore the staff who toiled for us. So accustomed to their scurrying and furtive ways that I forgot to even see them. Their low-class superstitions and work ethic reigned in their minds. I did not see the events, but it was possible to recreate them when I saw one of the scullions at the head of the red-clad Anointed as they marched with purpose towards the manse. They had seen, they had whispered, and they had reported. My title would not protect me as it had before.

I could hear my father at the door, shock and anger in his tone. He informed the Anointed that he would lead them to me himself. There was no choice but to flee with what I could carry on my person, slipping through the servants' halls and out a service door into the night as the Anointed began to toss the manse in their search for me. I hid amongst the wharves until dawn, spreading dirt on my clothes and face and slipping out the gate with a crowd of workers headed towards the fields. I could not have gone to the Prince of Rats, it would have betrayed his secrets. I walked until I reached the outpost of Dunmark, an unremarkable place well away from the reach and mild interest of my family; possibly even the Anointed. But what now? I still wish to bring the knowledge of magic to the masses. Ultimately it will be blessing upon all. They aren't ready though. I will need to increase my own knowledge and power. With firm ground beneath my feet, I can take on an apprentice as I was so taught. Change will come slowly, but it can come.



Deep Background Condensed
1 Family Member: If you grew up with one or two family members, your closeness to them made you highly aware of their feelings, and you. Add an Intelligence ability boost and a Wisdom ability boost to your options.

Academic Community: You were raised in or near a university, academy, or other center of learning. Add Academia Lore, Genealogy Lore, Library Lore, and Scribing Lore to your background options.

Fell In With A Bad Crowd: In your youth, you ran with a criminal element: a gang, thieves’ guild, or similar organization. Add the Experienced Smuggler skill feat to your background options.

The Pariah: You met a disgraced exile and found in their words something that spoke to you. What once seemed true in your religion, society, or family began to appear false, and you quickly learned not to trust everyone you meet. Add a Wisdom ability boost to your background options.

Kindly Witch: This character connected you to a kindly but reclusive person who was living at the edge of civilization but had expansive knowledge to share. Add the Natural Medicine skill feat to your background options.

Social Maneuvering: You have always wanted to prove yourself better than this character in a fancy social situation but have yet to decisively do so. Add the Courtly Graces skill feat to your background options.

Background Mechanical Options:Int Boost, Wis Boost, Academia, Genealogy, Library, or Scribing Lore, Experienced Smuggler Feat, Wis Boost, Natural Medicine feat, Courtly Graces feat.

 


 


 
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Old Apr 20th, 2021, 10:43 AM
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