Post/Author/DateTime	Post
Avihs 11-20-04, 03:11 PM	I am “Pathos”, lest that is who I would be called now. Born to the name of Arond Hess, I have wandered these lands for untold years. As for my youth, I know nothing, nor would I wish to remember anything of it. After all, for one such as myself, whose lineage can weave its way back to a Diabolic Sire (as I am told); can we truly say we could have a youth in the normal sense? A youth, filled with the wonder and naiveté of an unblemished innocence? One filled with the wonder of discovery of things, both light and beautiful? To that, I say… NO. How can one, when dark energies infuse his being and dark thoughts of lies and deceit enter his mind? Where is the innocence in that? Where is the innocence, in wanting to snuff out the beauty in the world? And succumbing to it? Such was my youth. I do not remember my mortal parents, let alone know if I ever had any. The only thing I do remember was living in the streets as a beggar and a thief. A common vagabond among other orphaned children such as myself. Like a pack of wolves we lived, the strongest of us ruling the others and getting the first picks of the spoils, whether it was from food, goods or riches. Again I ask you… Where is the innocence in that? I do however remember the day when it all changed, when I was no longer at the bottom of the food chain within the pack. The day when my inner fire arose and the power of my true heritage sought to consume me. “Hell Fire,” as I call it. I will also never forget my unknown mentor either. He was tall and dark skinned, not unlike that of cured leather, and always dressed in the same garb as ourselves, as a beggar. Upon his body, were tattoos… no… not tattoos as such, but scars as if from a hot iron, scars of arcane symbols that covered the portions of his body that I could see. The most disconcerting thing about him though was his eyes, as if they were made of an amber fire. When he would look upon you, it felt as if he was looking into your soul. The look was so complete; I cannot even recall hearing his voice except only within my own mind… but then I digress. He claimed a spot down the street from us as his own, in that forgotten part of the city where we lived. Such was the custom in the streets of that time. He had a balcony overlooking the street, where he would often sit with his cat. By the unholy gods I hated that beast, always lurking about and sticking its nose into my belongings while I was away. Like him though, this cat of darkest midnight color, had the same eyes as he. The color I can still only describe as burning amber. No, they did not shed off light per se. It was more, the threat of power that lay behind them, that’s what drives my description of them, smoldering, waiting to be released. And yet again I digress… such is the power of my former mentor. His presence still lingers with me, distracting me, seeking to tempt me to the darker ways from which I continually strive to rise above and battle against. May his eyes be eternally stabbed out for a thousand generations by a murder of crows. *ahem* Now where was I? Oh yes… My mentor would often sit upon his balcony watching our pack through out the nights, almost like a silent sentinel. A gargoyle made of living flesh. At the times when I could feel his eyes fall upon me, I would hear his dark whispers, always fueling the anger growing within me as I would get the leftovers from my pack mates. One day, his whispers came to me, telling me of an old man who had come to our section of the city and was dieing. He told me of the things this man had, things that would raise my standing within the pack, a thing of power. So I sought out this dieing man, with that damnable cat not far behind, to take that which the whispers had promised. After all, the old man no longer needed the item, did he? It could no longer keep him alive, could it? It thus no longer provided its power to one so frail. So why couldn’t I take it for my own? I was yet young and my body had yet to come into its own. It was the item I needed to become strong within the pack. Always, those whispers urged me on and spoke to that part of me that burned with the anger and hatred for what was good in the world. When I had found the dieing man, I demanded the item of power I sought… “Where is it old man? Give me the item of power to make me strong! I will have it, even if I have to cut you. I swear it old man!” I can still see him in my minds eye, clutching at the unseen bauble that hung beneath his tattered and dirty shirt, shaking in fear. I can even recall looking into those death, enshrouded eyes and seeing my reflection as I drew my knife, while he yet fought for a single moment of lucid thought. Oh the fearsome opponent I must have seemed to him, being so young and dirty myself. And then the whispers began again, urging me on, warning me that my pack mates were coming, that I must hurry if I was to keep the item for myself *Hurry Arond, kill the old man and take it before they get here. Kill him and take the item for yourself.* And in that moment, the dieing mans eyes cleared as I knelt in to do what I had promised. To finish what the whispers had urged me to do. “Here young man, take it. I give it freely, even though you be set on my death, I am a dieing man. I no longer have need of it, for it can no longer serve the old and infirm. Take it.” The old man died there, in the doorway of that abandoned building, my knife sticking out from him. That item of power I so bitterly sought, given freely, now felt as a curse to the anger and hate within me. When my pack mates had arrived, they saw me kneeling over the old man. Clutching the item to me, they swarmed over us, the old man and me, rending whatever was left of value from the dead man. The leader of our pack then took the item as his own, despite my word that it had been given to me by the dieing man. My pack leader saw that my knife stuck out from the dead man, and as such, a pack kill, and not given to me. So it was his to claim. Anger… it seethed in me, and the whispers beckoned even harder from my mentor… *Do you feel the power within you, the burning, and the hatred? Use it, and take the item from your pack leader. Kill him to prove your strength. By Law it was given to you and by right it is YOURS! Take back that which is rightfully yours.* I could feel it within me, churning about, not unlike the power that lay hidden behind my mentor’s eyes. Lunging forward I began to beat my pack leader, screaming: “It’s mine, given to me by the dieing man!” All the while, the anger rose like a great wave until it broke as if upon a wharf, engulfing my body in eldritch flames of indigo and crimson. Empowering each blow with that “Hell Fire” might. The other pack members sought to aid our leader, but the power swelling out of me was too great, and they fell also to the rampage that overtook me. When those who could run away did and the anger subsided in me, so too, did the “Hell Fire”. As I looked about myself, and retrieved the item, I found the amulet from which the gem hung had been broken, the magic within, now fading. Again that cat made its presence known, not in its usual manner, as a spy or a thief, but as a companion. Purring and rubbing up against my leg as if an old friend. And with that the whispers of my mentor beckoned again: *Come my son, follow Nox back to me and we shall preserve the magic with the stone, and begin your studies in earnest... * Hehehe… My mentor was a harsh man by most standards and why he took me under his wing, I shall never know. Hell, I could not even tell you his name. He would only allow me to refer to him as "Master". During my tenure with him, I learned of my Warlock powers and heritage. He would often talk about a Great War, the “Blood War” I do believe, that was eternally waged in the Nether Realms, and that our powers, his and mine, were derived from a consorting between a mortal and a diabolical fiend. Those truly were dark times for me, always the whispers from my mentor guiding me, taunting me into further depravity. You may ask, “How is it that you follow the path of good now?” The answer to that is simple: Compassion. Yes, even one bred from a dark heart can be swayed by such simple things as an emotion. Remember the dieing man? He laid within me the seed. That one single act of willingly giving me his treasure, showed me there was still some good and forgiveness in the world. It took a Priestess to bring it to fruition. As I have said, my mentor was a harsh man, as well as very exacting. If I had not performed to his satisfaction there were inevitable consequences, brutal consequences. Just as any whipped dog, you can take only so much. So, one day, I ran. I ran for all I was worth. Battered and broken, I found myself at the doorstep to a small country church, where I was taken in. A matronly woman named Annalee nourished me back to health. To her I was just another of her flock, despite my appearance and demeanor. Through her I found the goodness that was planted there that day by that old dieing man and what still resided within my own humanity. However, all things being transitory, that time of my life could not last either. Nox, my former mentor’s pet, found me one day. And through him, the whispers began again, ever trying to tempt me. With a new found sense of self, I turned from my old mentor’s ways, which was met with swift retribution. My new home was destroyed and I have since wandered these lands standing against the powers of darkness, using their own dark gifts against them. Defending those who cannot stand against them, where ever evil may lurk. As for my former mentor and his pet, I do not know. Somewhere out there, they still live I assume. And if the day ever should ever come, were I to meet him again, I can only pray that I will be up to the task of sending him back from which he came. Oh… you may be wondering about that item of power I had so coveted. It still serves me to this day. Not only through the magic it provides, but through the lessons of kindness from Annalee and that old dieing man, and also, the lessons of pain I learned from my old mentor. You see, in order to maintain the power of the gem, it needed a new housing. I am now the housing for it. To that end, I have sacrificed an eye. The rituals used to set it there were most excruciating and thus also, serve to remind me of the life I have left behind. With those lessons in mind, which path would you choose? Would it be Pain or Compassion? Pathos is a Teifling male in his lower 20’s (23), standing 5’10” and 185lbs. He has long black, wavy hair and a single dark eye, verging on black. Unlike others of his race, Pathos favors his human side in appearance due to the Feat: Human Heritage with only his remaining eye to give away any hint of his actual race. His right eye was lost due to his former mentor, replaced by the ruby stone from a Periapt of Wound Closure. This stone now takes the place of his lost eye (and takes up the space reserved for magic items for the eyes), and still operates as such. However, Pathos now suffers from the Flaw: One-Eyed (see below), and despite the loss of his eye, his vision with his remaining eye remains very acute within dark places, granting him the Trait: Nightsighted. He tends to dress in somber colors as a general rule, often using a patch to cover his lost eye and the unseeing gem that lies there now. Personality: Pathos lives a tortured life, forever torn between his diabolic parentage and his human side. Always striving to turn away from his dark impulses and to live a life dedicated to defending those who cannot defend themselves against the powers of darkness, Pathos also suffers from the Flaw: Noncombatant. Not from a fear of engaging the powers of darkness in battle, but from a fear that he may again revel in the bloodlust that overtook him when he killed his former pack leader, and the dark urges of his parentage. To compensate for his revulsion for his lineage and a continual need to embrace his humanity in all of its diversity, Pathos has developed the Feat: Skill Focus (Concentration) to aid him in his battles against the forces of darkness. During his time spent with his former mentor and the evils he has battled, Pathos has also developed the Trait: Desensitized (see below), making him a somewhat gruff and direct person in his interactions with other people. NEW FLAWS & TRAITS: Flaw: One-Eyed Where one of your eyes should be, there is only empty dark eye socket. Effect: Halve all range increments of ranged weapons you use. Also halve any "within 30 feet" effects, such as the Point Blank Shot feat. Special: At the DM's discretion, this flaw might grant bonuses or penalties to some Charisma-based skills. Since you have empty eye socket from birth, spells like regeneration don't recover your missing eye (spells don't remove birth defects). Trait: Desensitized The horrors of war and violence have deadened your emotions. Benefit: You receive a +2 morale bonus on saves against fear spells and effects, as well as pain causing spells and effects (such as symbol of pain). Drawback: You suffer a -4 penalty on all diplomacy checks. Edit: I have added the above box as the final page to the history of Pathos. Since my DM does allow the optional Traits and Flaws from UA, I have also tried to incorporate them into his history and outlook on the world. With the two Flaws and Traits, as seen above, they were obtained to from other posters here on the boards (hope you guys don't mind :D ). You can find more of these fine Flaws/Traits here: New Flaws (http://boards1.wizards.com/showthread.php?t=187647)
CzarGarrett 11-20-04, 04:36 PM	Well, a little long except for the DM who loves involved backstory. But rather good, excluding the ever present little bits of grammar and spelling here and there. I give it a 8 out of 10
Avihs 11-20-04, 08:43 PM	Thank you for the reply. Yeah, I know it's a bit long winded. but then, thats just me. I always like to give the Dm something to chew on. Even though he can use it to bite me in the a** at a later date.
Glabrezubane 11-27-04, 11:06 PM	Long-winded? Long-winded? Hell, this is some great flavor for a character! I mean, so many times you hear the 'I'm a fighter, I was trained in the army and now I'm a mercenary' or the like. But this- this is a work of art. I applaud you for your fore-thought and effort, good sir!
Chaotica Maxima 11-28-04, 12:44 PM	Dude, that is one kickass background!
Avihs 11-28-04, 01:29 PM	Thank you Chaotica Maxima & Glabrezubane. This PCs time has been a long time coming. Wasn't till I saw the Warlock in CA that I finally found an outlet for him. Any bugs aside, TY WoTC for giving us the Warlock. Pathos now LIVES! :evillaugh
riceisnice 11-30-04, 02:36 PM	Is the Master the guy on the cover of CA?
Avihs 11-30-04, 06:52 PM	:rofl: Not quite, he did provide a base for the description, I do admit, sans the book, glasses and the the buck-tooth cat-like thing on his shoulder. Very perceptive though.
Psyflash 01-09-05, 11:05 AM	Very well written. I don't think it is too long at all. This will clearly help you define how your character will react in some circumstances. I myself am playing a warlock now, and (I know I should have) still haven’t finished my background story. And mainly because I had difficulties thinking up how the character was created. But leaving it lost in memory seems like a perfect solution.
Avihs 01-09-05, 03:17 PM	Ty Psy, much appreciated. :D Next weekend, Pathos goes live! He's going to be entering an ongoing campaign, starting at 10th level. Wish me luch. :schemes:
Aluroon 01-10-05, 03:30 PM	Awesome character man, and good luck. Aluroon