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 Hrktek, Kenku As an orphan child growing up in Lower Dura, might never did make right for Hrktek. He was too small, too feeble to be of much use in a fight. For him, life was about hiding from bigger people, stealing whatever he could to survive, and making sure he was well out of the way when the mob or the Watch showed up. He would often dream of being powerful - he knew he'd never be big and strong like the brutes who ruled the streets, but he liked to imagine himself as the boss of some mob with the entire district in his pocket. He dreamt that he had a network of contacts reaching as high as the Skyway itself - and hell, as long as he was fantasizing, he might as well have magic powers, right? Hrktek would soon learn that some dreams did come true. One day, when he was watching passers-by on the street, he spotted a man in a strange robe and a thick, important-looking tome under his arm. The man was a wizard! He must have been. He dressed exactly like Hrktek knew a wizard would dress. What's more, he was an idiot. Didn't he know how easy it would be for someone to grab that spellbook right out from under him? Before he knew it, Hrktek was on his talons, walking briskly behind the man. As casually as if it was an old dodderer's coin purse, Hrktek snatched the book with one quick motion and darted off down an alleyway. The spellbook was his! This was his chance! His dreams would all come true now, he was sure of it. He was as good as a wizard aleady. All the influence and respect he dreamed of was surely soon to follow. Magic proved to be harder than Hrktek thought. He spent years poring over that spellbook, struggling at first to master even the most basic spells. He found that while magic more or less made sense to him, the book was of course written for that wizard's personal use, and thus lacked the instructional quality he'd been hoping for. Still, he kept at it. He liked the summoning spells the most - it seemed to him that invoking a big, scary creature to hide behind while it kept his enemies busy was a Very Good Plan indeed. He was, however, disappointed to find out that even with his newfound magical power, his life hadn't changed much. Sure, he'd become a better thief and even had a tiny little place to call his own, but he was still a lowly thief. Nobody respected him. Nobody wanted to follow him. He started to feel guilty about thieving, too. It was one thing when he was a little fledgeling pinching the odd coin or scrap of food from people much bigger and stronger, but now that he could easily obliterate his marks with a spell if he wanted to, it felt an awful lot like he was taking advantage of those weaker than him. He knew what it was like to be weak and, well, abusing the weak just felt wrong. After a few more years and an unsuccessful bout of attempts to turn his magical talents into a trade, Hrktek turned to the one last place he figured might have need of a wizard: The Sharn Watch. He'd never much liked the Watch - they always seemed to be turning a blind eye to the criminals who needed to be taken down the most, and they came down way too hard on little stragglers and wayward souls like him - but he knew they'd appreciate his skills. He never stopped dreaming big, either. He started to imagine himself as someone who could really change the Watch for the better. He figured that he could show them the error of their ways and get them to start doing something about Dura's more dangerous elements. Hrktek did get the job. He didn't get to enact the sweeping changes he would have liked, but a job that let him use his wizard powers and paid well enough for him to live in something slightly better than abject squalor suited him just fine. In time, he was even able to impose his will on the Watch a little. While he found there wasn't much he could do about the rampant corruption or apathy, he at least started detailed records of Watch activities and knowledge so that it would be easier to move against the more deeply-rooted and organized criminal element in the future. It wasn't like anyone else read them, but the important thing was that they were there, technically making the Watch better-equipped to do what was supposed to be its job. He also started seizing tomes and various magical items of interest from criminals and adding them to the Watch's resources. Of course, there was the odd trinket or curiosity here and there that he took purely for his own collection. Old habits died hard, and it wasn't like anyone else gave a poo poo about some nameless smuggler's crook-eye anyway. As much as he was settling in to his place in the Sharn Watch's Dura branch, when he heard of the new elite "Tactics Squad" forming to handle jobs the rest of the Watch couldn't, he jumped at the opportunity to sign up. It sounded like just what he'd always wanted to do in the Sharn Watch, with the added bonus of heavily armed and armoured warriors to stand valiantly in front of him while he cast his spells. He imagined they'd even be the kind of people who would actually read his documentation for bloody once. Maybe, finally, he could be somebody respected. Somebody important. Wol fucked around with this message at 10:06 on Nov 8, 2013 |
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Nov 8, 2013 07:26
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 Cassander Tyrel, Shade Paladin Soul Binder If you were an assassin or spy working against Breland, Agent-Commander Cassander Tyrel was one of the last people you'd want to meet. A Dark Lantern operative specializing in counter-espionage, Tyrel was rarely one to stay his sword hand. In his mind, once a threat had been discovered, it demanded nothing but swift and merciless elimination. There was no room in his philosophy for concepts such as "negotiation". Needless to say, Cassander's ruthless disposition left him with a rather dark reputation - something he embraced eagerly. He enjoyed starting rumours that he was a reaper committing souls to the Keeper, that he was a demon that feasted on human flesh, or even that he was the half-human spawn of the Devourer himself. Aside from giving him a good laugh by scaring new recruits, he used such seemingly ridiculous rumours to great effect in his work. They planted the seeds of fear, and he knew he could count on his personality (and finely-honed interrogation techniques) to do the rest. A consummate professional, he knew that eliminating an enemy agent was as much about catching them as killing them, and fear was one of his best weapons in that arena. Ultimately, Tyrel would come to find his supposed trafficking with dark powers more true than he'd wanted. While out on a mission, he and his men were ambushed by a group of Emerald Claw agents. What ensued was a savage battle from which none escaped. For each Claw man that fell, he lost one of his own. Finally, their soldiers all slain, Tyrel and the Claw captain stood locked in combat. Tyrel swung, but the other man proved faster, driving a blade between the plates of Tyrel's armour. Tyrel responded by hacking the man's head off. Unfortunately, the damage was already done. Tyrel yanked the blade out of his stomach and started trying to strip off his armour so he could properly tend to the wound, but it was not just steel that had pierced him. Poison, too, had already started to flow through his veins. As he lay dying, he appealed to the gods to save him. He was unwilling to die like this - brought low by Karrnathi of all people. He had to live. He had to keep fighting. More than anything, he had to take revenge. Someone in the Emerald Claw had sent that hit squad after him and he vowed to see their head rot at his feet - he just needed to be alive for it. One god answered him. The Shadow's voice whispered in his ear a deal. It said it was so moved by his plea that it was willing to offer him a second chance. It just needed one little thing: a piece of his soul. Desperate as he was, Tyrel accepted. Immediately, he felt the poison leave his body and his wound mend itself. He would live. Not only would he live, he was changed. His body was less than it used to be, but his newfound connection to the Shadow gave him strange powers. His body had become grey and smoky, and he found it easier to pass unseen. His eyes now pierced the darkness with the clarity of midday. And he could feel the lingering spirits of his slain men, thirsting for the same vengeance he did. With some effort, he eventually learned to manifest their spirits into forms solid enough to fight alongside him. Though not obviously at first, Tyrel's bargain with the Shadow changed more than his body. As he became more attuned to his new nature, his temperament changed to match. He began to gain more of an appreciation for the subtler arts. His choleric tendencies gave way somewhat to cunning and clear-headedness. He would still be Breland's weapon, just more finely-honed than ever before. Wol fucked around with this message at 22:36 on Mar 31, 2014 |
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Mar 31, 2014 19:49
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 Berit Anerezai, (Stormsoul Genasi Runepriest) Watch this space for backstory!
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Sep 19, 2014 22:27
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Sorry. Wasn't able to finish up the app in time.
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Sep 22, 2014 06:04
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