Post by Deleted on Jul 2, 2017 18:32:29 GMT -5
Basic Information
Name:
Alduin Al'asard
Race: Half-Drokagr
-Immortal Among my Own Kind: Receives a passive +5 hp regeneration when in the same thread as other drokagr or half-drokagr. Can also sense their own kind within 10 meters.
-Ethnicity:
Daywalker
-Ultravision: the character can see perfectly well in the dark and day. Presents with elongated canines. Suffers from restless sleep. Reduces benefits of sleeping by 20%
-Immune to Blindness.
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Height: 6'
Weight: 175 lbs.
Eyes: Amber
Hair: White
Class/Occupation: Lord/Rogue
Nobility: None
Starting Morality: Neutral
Faction: Neutral
Languages: Cruic
Appearance: Al'asard is a clean cut and handsome young half-drokagr whose used to traveling in the socialite circles of the kingdom. He often presents himself in a distinguished manner in fine cut clothing with his strong jaw free of stubble. He carries himself with a posture reminiscent of nobility and many times seems to be looking down upon others despite his average height. From time to time he might flash a quaint smile, revealing a pair of elongated canines, an unnerving sight for those unfamiliar with the dark cousins of the Elkagr. Al'asard prefers to dress in the latest fashions of the kingdom often in dark colors that accent his ashen complexion and bright amber colored eyes. His white hair is often worn freely, hanging down to his sturdy shoulders. If one were to inspect Al'asard closely they would notice a plethora of small scars marring his body from his misspent youth and, the most glaring physical deformity, the absence of a small finger on his left hand. A new scar has joined the rest, a large angry red wound in his right shoulder where he was recently perforated by a crossbow bolt. Currently, Al'asard appears very different from his usual presentation. Months on the street of Fordeth have seen him grow ragged and dirty. Covered in filth, spilled wine, and a thick mane of wild white hair. He looks far removed from the elegant businessman he once knew himself to be.
Personality: Numbers have been the only constant in Al'asard's life every since he was a child. He has a firm belief that everything in the world can be quantified, counted, and bought. Whether someone's willing to pay the price is a completely different matter. His life's work has been about making sure he's always in a position to pay that price. This detached and logical point of view has often caused others to find the half-drokagr detached from emotion, at least, whenever business is concerned. Those that think so are usually not far off the mark. When it comes to his practices Al'asard knows that there is no room for emotion whether it be balancing books, investing his hard earned ritz, or trying to talk some mark out of their own coin. A conscience simply gets in the way of his goals. Of course, this is only when Al'asard is "on the clock", so to say. While the ashen skin man tries to unwind he becomes a remarkably different person. His silver tongue, often used to confuse others begins to deliver sarcastic and comical quips, and his usually predatory eyes soften into something some might mistake for kindness.
Being pleasant and sociable have been two personality traits that have always been encouraged by the prominent figures in Al'asard's life. Being able to interact with others and schmooze them opens doors no matter what one's end game might be. Al finds it easy to talk to others and quickly makes friends. Of course, during these social interactions, he's not opposed to sprinkling a few lies for the sake of comedy or simply to steer the mark towards his desired subject. Lying and acting have always been easy for Al being a social actor of sorts finding it easy to blend in with every group that he's every happened across. He's capable of rubbing elbows with nobility or scumming in a bar with the worst of degenerates. He prefers the former to the latter though.
Al'asard has a taste for the finer things in life. For the past fifteen years, he's lived in the lap of luxury and still finds it hard to adjust to his return to squalor. He longs for fine wine, beautiful clothes, indulgent vices, and to be surrounded by beautiful things and people. Being thrown from high society down into the dregs has come at a shock but even more shocking to the man is his ability to revert to his former mindset despite how long it's been since he's last lived on the streets. As of late, he's seemed to struggle with the drink and whenever he's magicked a bit of ritz into his holey pockets it ends up on the counter of some tavern.
Al'asard's ability to seeming turn off his heart is severely compromised by the plight of those he sees himself and his family in. Forsaken children, sickly parents, and those simply struggling despite remaining upstanding citizens pull at his heartstrings. Despite being willing to resort to almost anything in order to reach his goals he can't help but feel the need to aid those in this category to prevent them from traveling the same crooked path he's set himself on.
History: Al'asard's life began far from the confines of Telle'Korasus in the thriving city of Morith. His father, Baelwyn Al'asard, had chaffed under the matriarchy of his home and fled to the city finding work in a counting house as a clerk. It was here that he met the mother of his child, Marcella, a well to do trader. Their relationship began professionally, of course, but amidst the talk of coin and commerce love blossomed. The pair married the next year and their only child, Alduin, followed the next. It was amid the hustle and bustle of the trade city that Alduin was brought up. Never far from his father's side, Alduin spent much of his formative years on the floors of the counting house of Morrow and Wright. It was here that he was taught the rudimentary skills of reading, writing, and arithmetic. Skills most children went without. Somedays he would be on his mother's hip going along as she conducted her business. Through tiny amber eyes, he soaked up his parents' lessons and took them to heart. Honesty, charity, and integrity would open doors and earn the trust of those you encountered. Alduin knew his parents were good people and in his naivety thought only good could happen to them. That was not the case. Where ritz is involved there is power and with power comes corruption.
A series of investments in what was a promising enterprise saw the Al'asard's families riches torn from their grasps. A con artist had made his way through the city of Morith that year. A man with no scruples and a devilish sort of ingenuity. With forged papers, an elaborate lie, and a charming smile he took fortunes from several families in Morith before stealing off into the night never to be seen again. Baelwyn and Marcella did their best to recover, making small, safe investments with their remaining funds but it seemed a fog of desolation had settled over them. Every venture they plied their hand at failed and with that, they saw the last of their funds depleted. With nothing left the family packed what few belongings they had in an attempt to find work in the city of Sorath. Sorath proved to be no better than Morith. Baelwyn sought work in the largest financial establishment in the land but was turned away forced to do odd labor and beg to feed his family. Marcella refused to give up on his business and began to take out exorbitant loans from the usurers despite her husband's pleas. The misfortune that plagued the family in Morith followed behind them and Marcella's actions had seen the family plummet from unfortunate to destitute. The years that came after saw the family fall to pieces. Marcella was the first to go. One day, to Alduin's knowledge, his mother went try and settle a debt and never returned. Whenever the young half-drokagr asked his father about her he simply gave him a sad smile and said, "she's working, Aly."
Baelwyn was next to fall. The strain of work and a shortage of fresh food saw his health deteriorate. By the time Alduin was eight his father was bedridden. It fell upon his tiny shoulders to support his last remaining family member and it was a task he went about with fiery devotion. Since his family fallen upon hard times Alduin had taken to the streets, begging for ritz and stealing small morsels of food to stave off hunger. Several times he'd watched as other children snuck about the city, bumping into adults and running off with purses of coin in hand. Several times he told himself that he wasn't that desperate, not yet. Now with no one left to rely on he was that desperate. Alduin took to the streets struggling to master the art of finger smithing. In his escapades he had several brushes with the law, losing his left pinky on the only occasion he got caught. Later on, he met several other urchins who began to teach him the finer art of pickpocketing. Al's criminal activities provided enough ritz to keep him and his father fed but left nothing for the medicine Baelwyn needed dearly. Without out the older Dorkagr passed from the world in the middle of winter a year and a half later.
Alduin was alone.
For the next four years, the boy mastered his craft, looking to attain the fortune that his family had once held. He'd learned in that time that the lessons his family had instilled in him didn't apply. Ritz meant food, ritz meant safety, ritz meant power. Without it, he'd watched his family crumble away into nothingness. To that end, he became more inventive. Recalling the man who had robbed his family of their fortune Alduin decided it was time to put the business acumen his family passed on to him to win his fortune back. Al scraped and scrimped for months in order to purchase a fine set of clothing, an abacus, and a few basic writing utensils. After washing himself and cutting his hair the urchin assumed the guise of an apprentice clerk for the Bank of Sorath. Hanging around the bank and the upscale taverns its workers dined in Alduin gained snippets of knowledge of its customers and some of the loans the bank had out. With this knowledge in hand, Alduin would approach these customers during their business hours. He would announce himself as an apprentice clerk and that he was there to inform them that their loan was in danger of defaulting due to an oversight amidst both parties. As it was particularly embarrassing for the bank of their repute to make a mistake they sought to remedy the situation quietly and to use their youngest, lesser known clerks as to not draw more attention. To fix the situation, Alduin required access to their ledgers in order to properly balance the bank's books against their own. It was during this time Alduin took note of their accounts balance and other pertinent information. Once he finished his "balancing" Alduin would inform the client that there was no need to worry and that everything was in order. He would then collect their signature several times on a scroll that he could use to show his master that he'd done his duty. With the information and their signature in hand, Alduin would return to his hovel and begin the process of making up a bank note and forging the signature of his chosen victim. He would then return to the bank and pretend to be his victim's new apprentice before pulling out a large amount of ritz.
Alduin conned four traders in a sixteen months before he was caught.
Marden Lyserg, Comptroller Minor for the Bank of Sorath, was the woman who caught Alduin in his scam. The woman circumvented false information about a particularly large client and how he was considering to close out his account. Alduin couldn't pass up a chance and after getting the man's signature he showed up at the bank immediately a mere three weeks after Marden made the plant. When he showed up, note in hand, Marden was there with four large attendants. The next thing Alduin knew he was roughly grabbed and escorted to Marden's office. There the Comptroller Minor interrogated the boy about who he worked for and where he'd learned to pose as a clerk. Alduin was beaten for every "lie" he told until Marden forced him to take a battery of tests to prove his story. When the coal skin youth made child's play of all of them the woman couldn't help but laugh. Alduin had used the common man's ignorance of the bank to talk circles around them and then the bank's indifference and bureaucracy to pull the wool over both's eyes. Marden told the boy that she'd have to figure out what she'd do with him and had him thrown in an empty vault for a week. There Alduin feared for his life every time the large iron door opened, thinking it would be the end of the line for him, only to be given a meager meal of water and bread.
The final time the vault door opened it was Marden herself who had brought Alduin his meal. She sat with him then, speaking of inconsequential things as he ate his fill. When he finished she asked him to tell his story once more. Alduin recanted the tale of his parents and of their losses, his foray into thievery, and his inspiration to combine the two into one art. The entire time she wore a half smile, sitting nearly motionless. When he finished she asked several more questions, testing his knowledge once more. His answers seemed to satisfy her because after several moments of silence she asked him if he'd like a job.
From that day forward Alduin worked directly beneath Marden as her personal secretary and clerk. He lived with her for much of it, staying in her lavish manor where she taught him the ins and outs of the world of finance. Alduin learned that to cut through the red tape certain illicit acts were required and practically encouraged. Under her, he lied, cheated, and forged his way up the ladder propelled by his success and her patronage. He grew accustomed to the finer things in life and a world of upper-class criminal. The sort of criminal that could steal with a pen stroke, an off-handed word, and a smile. In that time Alduin began to exclusively use his surname to go by, believing that he left behind the moniker Alduin when he was plucked from the rubbish. Alduin was a petty thief and an idealist. Al'asard was refined, intelligent and an efficient banker. For fifteen years his world was bliss. Marden took the office of Comptroller General and Al'asard inherited her spot as Comptroller Minor acting as her thug, though, he certainly didn't look the part. He thought that he would eventually take her spot but that was never meant to be.
Marden harbored a hatred for the King of Cruinthe. Beneath the table, she worked to further the agendas of those who sought to stroke to fires of rebellion. For ten years she worked to finance those who could overthrow King Julgrava from the shadows, unbeknownst to even her closest confidant, Al'asard. She only revealed the knowledge to him one night weeks before her demise. In a drunken fit of hysteria, she told Al'asard how the executives were closing in and that her days were numbered. They only needed one more nail to seal the coffin. Al'asard took the words as the rambling of a stressed woman and put Marden to bed before retiring himself. Weeks later Marden disappeared. Much like Al'asard's mother one day, Marden was there and the next, she was gone. Al'asard probed for information regarding her whereabouts but everyone remained silent. Days passed and eventually, Al'asard was called into the office of the Director himself. There Al'asard was greeted by the kindly face of the ruler of the Bank of Sorath and the broken form of Marden. The Director told Al'asard about how Marden had been supporting an enemy of the King and that her treason would besmirch the name of the bank. That his testimony could help ease any blow that it might bring. When both Marden and Al'asard told Director that he knew nothing the older man simply tsked. Pulling a crossbow from behind his desk and shot Marden square in the chest. Al'asard ran to his second maternal figure and tried to keep the keep her life's blood from running out. As he applied pressure to her chest he listened as the Director reloaded the crossbow. Without emotion, he told Al'asard that while he had no proof that he aided Marden he had none that proved his innocence either. So, he had a choice. He could die with Marden or leave Sorath and never return. Al'asard was hysterical and continued to try and save Marden even after she went limp. The Director stirred him from his mania with a bolt to the shoulder. Without compassion, the man told the half-drokagr to run and to never return.
As the former Comptroller Minor fled he made a silent vow to himself. He would upend the institute the murdered Marden, tear its foundation out from under it, and see it burn. He fled upon horse until he reached Fordeth. There he's remained attempting to eek out an existence and make a foothold for himself to wreak his vengeance. Though his sorrow has seen him take to the bottle and a bout of sickness has only seen the man resort to his former life as a petty thief. In the month of Hueltrios the banishment of non-humans came as a shock even to a drunken Al'asard. Within days guards attempted to apprehend him. He was able to sneak the key off of one of the guards before being locked away and later that night stole away into the darkness. The downtrodden half-drokagr assumed the guise of a bandaged lepper, stumbling his way towards Innorsford, said to be a safe place from the rumors her gleamed. Since arriving Al'asard has become an almost permanent fixture in the Tipsy Darling in a constant state of inebriation.
Inventory: -- Your choice of starting equipment will be sent to you via message from the moderator that approved you.
Armor
-Head:
Stately Hat
-DR: 5
*Light, Cloth, Head*
-Armor:
Stately Vest
-DR: 10
*Light, Cloth, Chest, Back, Sides, Abdomen*
-Feet:
Stately Boots
-DR: 15
*Light, Leather, Feet*
-Gloves:
Stately Gloves
-DR: 15
*Light, Leather, Hands*
-Belt:
-Ring 1:
-Ring 2:
-Amulet:
Armaments
-Primary Weapon:
Short Trench Knife
-Dmg: 25
*Dagger, Piercing, Slashing*
-Secondary Weapon: Single One Handed Weapon (One Two Handed Weapon Takes both Primary and Secondary Slots)
-Back: Bow & Quiver, 2 One handed weapons, 1 Two Handed Weapon
-Right Arm: Gauntlet Mounted/Forged/Shield
-Left Arm: Gauntlet Mounted/Forged/Shield
-Right Thigh: Small Weapon, Throwing Knives or Axes, Single Knuckle Class, Daggers.
-Left Thigh: Small Weapon, Throwing Knives or Axes, Single Knuckle Class, Daggers.
Free Space: 0/6
-
-
-
-
-
-
Stats Original
Str: 10
Vit: 10
Agi: 10
Ch: 10
ST: 10
T: 10
D: 10
EN: 10
P: 10
K: 10
HP: 200/200
SM: 20/20
MP: 110/110
Fight Record: (Use this area to track your progress in Player Vs Player Duels)
Wins: 0
Draws: 0
Losses: 0
Knowledge Possessed:
-Auto: Cruic I
General Knowledge
Lying I
Scholarly Knowledge
High Cruic I
Literacy I
Lord Knowledge
Accounting I
Broker I
Economics I
Negotiator I
Rogue Knowledge
Disguise I
Forgery I
Pickpocket I
Name:
Alduin Al'asard
Race: Half-Drokagr
-Immortal Among my Own Kind: Receives a passive +5 hp regeneration when in the same thread as other drokagr or half-drokagr. Can also sense their own kind within 10 meters.
-Ethnicity:
Daywalker
-Ultravision: the character can see perfectly well in the dark and day. Presents with elongated canines. Suffers from restless sleep. Reduces benefits of sleeping by 20%
-Immune to Blindness.
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Height: 6'
Weight: 175 lbs.
Eyes: Amber
Hair: White
Class/Occupation: Lord/Rogue
Nobility: None
Starting Morality: Neutral
Faction: Neutral
Languages: Cruic
Appearance: Al'asard is a clean cut and handsome young half-drokagr whose used to traveling in the socialite circles of the kingdom. He often presents himself in a distinguished manner in fine cut clothing with his strong jaw free of stubble. He carries himself with a posture reminiscent of nobility and many times seems to be looking down upon others despite his average height. From time to time he might flash a quaint smile, revealing a pair of elongated canines, an unnerving sight for those unfamiliar with the dark cousins of the Elkagr. Al'asard prefers to dress in the latest fashions of the kingdom often in dark colors that accent his ashen complexion and bright amber colored eyes. His white hair is often worn freely, hanging down to his sturdy shoulders. If one were to inspect Al'asard closely they would notice a plethora of small scars marring his body from his misspent youth and, the most glaring physical deformity, the absence of a small finger on his left hand. A new scar has joined the rest, a large angry red wound in his right shoulder where he was recently perforated by a crossbow bolt. Currently, Al'asard appears very different from his usual presentation. Months on the street of Fordeth have seen him grow ragged and dirty. Covered in filth, spilled wine, and a thick mane of wild white hair. He looks far removed from the elegant businessman he once knew himself to be.
Personality: Numbers have been the only constant in Al'asard's life every since he was a child. He has a firm belief that everything in the world can be quantified, counted, and bought. Whether someone's willing to pay the price is a completely different matter. His life's work has been about making sure he's always in a position to pay that price. This detached and logical point of view has often caused others to find the half-drokagr detached from emotion, at least, whenever business is concerned. Those that think so are usually not far off the mark. When it comes to his practices Al'asard knows that there is no room for emotion whether it be balancing books, investing his hard earned ritz, or trying to talk some mark out of their own coin. A conscience simply gets in the way of his goals. Of course, this is only when Al'asard is "on the clock", so to say. While the ashen skin man tries to unwind he becomes a remarkably different person. His silver tongue, often used to confuse others begins to deliver sarcastic and comical quips, and his usually predatory eyes soften into something some might mistake for kindness.
Being pleasant and sociable have been two personality traits that have always been encouraged by the prominent figures in Al'asard's life. Being able to interact with others and schmooze them opens doors no matter what one's end game might be. Al finds it easy to talk to others and quickly makes friends. Of course, during these social interactions, he's not opposed to sprinkling a few lies for the sake of comedy or simply to steer the mark towards his desired subject. Lying and acting have always been easy for Al being a social actor of sorts finding it easy to blend in with every group that he's every happened across. He's capable of rubbing elbows with nobility or scumming in a bar with the worst of degenerates. He prefers the former to the latter though.
Al'asard has a taste for the finer things in life. For the past fifteen years, he's lived in the lap of luxury and still finds it hard to adjust to his return to squalor. He longs for fine wine, beautiful clothes, indulgent vices, and to be surrounded by beautiful things and people. Being thrown from high society down into the dregs has come at a shock but even more shocking to the man is his ability to revert to his former mindset despite how long it's been since he's last lived on the streets. As of late, he's seemed to struggle with the drink and whenever he's magicked a bit of ritz into his holey pockets it ends up on the counter of some tavern.
Al'asard's ability to seeming turn off his heart is severely compromised by the plight of those he sees himself and his family in. Forsaken children, sickly parents, and those simply struggling despite remaining upstanding citizens pull at his heartstrings. Despite being willing to resort to almost anything in order to reach his goals he can't help but feel the need to aid those in this category to prevent them from traveling the same crooked path he's set himself on.
History: Al'asard's life began far from the confines of Telle'Korasus in the thriving city of Morith. His father, Baelwyn Al'asard, had chaffed under the matriarchy of his home and fled to the city finding work in a counting house as a clerk. It was here that he met the mother of his child, Marcella, a well to do trader. Their relationship began professionally, of course, but amidst the talk of coin and commerce love blossomed. The pair married the next year and their only child, Alduin, followed the next. It was amid the hustle and bustle of the trade city that Alduin was brought up. Never far from his father's side, Alduin spent much of his formative years on the floors of the counting house of Morrow and Wright. It was here that he was taught the rudimentary skills of reading, writing, and arithmetic. Skills most children went without. Somedays he would be on his mother's hip going along as she conducted her business. Through tiny amber eyes, he soaked up his parents' lessons and took them to heart. Honesty, charity, and integrity would open doors and earn the trust of those you encountered. Alduin knew his parents were good people and in his naivety thought only good could happen to them. That was not the case. Where ritz is involved there is power and with power comes corruption.
A series of investments in what was a promising enterprise saw the Al'asard's families riches torn from their grasps. A con artist had made his way through the city of Morith that year. A man with no scruples and a devilish sort of ingenuity. With forged papers, an elaborate lie, and a charming smile he took fortunes from several families in Morith before stealing off into the night never to be seen again. Baelwyn and Marcella did their best to recover, making small, safe investments with their remaining funds but it seemed a fog of desolation had settled over them. Every venture they plied their hand at failed and with that, they saw the last of their funds depleted. With nothing left the family packed what few belongings they had in an attempt to find work in the city of Sorath. Sorath proved to be no better than Morith. Baelwyn sought work in the largest financial establishment in the land but was turned away forced to do odd labor and beg to feed his family. Marcella refused to give up on his business and began to take out exorbitant loans from the usurers despite her husband's pleas. The misfortune that plagued the family in Morith followed behind them and Marcella's actions had seen the family plummet from unfortunate to destitute. The years that came after saw the family fall to pieces. Marcella was the first to go. One day, to Alduin's knowledge, his mother went try and settle a debt and never returned. Whenever the young half-drokagr asked his father about her he simply gave him a sad smile and said, "she's working, Aly."
Baelwyn was next to fall. The strain of work and a shortage of fresh food saw his health deteriorate. By the time Alduin was eight his father was bedridden. It fell upon his tiny shoulders to support his last remaining family member and it was a task he went about with fiery devotion. Since his family fallen upon hard times Alduin had taken to the streets, begging for ritz and stealing small morsels of food to stave off hunger. Several times he'd watched as other children snuck about the city, bumping into adults and running off with purses of coin in hand. Several times he told himself that he wasn't that desperate, not yet. Now with no one left to rely on he was that desperate. Alduin took to the streets struggling to master the art of finger smithing. In his escapades he had several brushes with the law, losing his left pinky on the only occasion he got caught. Later on, he met several other urchins who began to teach him the finer art of pickpocketing. Al's criminal activities provided enough ritz to keep him and his father fed but left nothing for the medicine Baelwyn needed dearly. Without out the older Dorkagr passed from the world in the middle of winter a year and a half later.
Alduin was alone.
For the next four years, the boy mastered his craft, looking to attain the fortune that his family had once held. He'd learned in that time that the lessons his family had instilled in him didn't apply. Ritz meant food, ritz meant safety, ritz meant power. Without it, he'd watched his family crumble away into nothingness. To that end, he became more inventive. Recalling the man who had robbed his family of their fortune Alduin decided it was time to put the business acumen his family passed on to him to win his fortune back. Al scraped and scrimped for months in order to purchase a fine set of clothing, an abacus, and a few basic writing utensils. After washing himself and cutting his hair the urchin assumed the guise of an apprentice clerk for the Bank of Sorath. Hanging around the bank and the upscale taverns its workers dined in Alduin gained snippets of knowledge of its customers and some of the loans the bank had out. With this knowledge in hand, Alduin would approach these customers during their business hours. He would announce himself as an apprentice clerk and that he was there to inform them that their loan was in danger of defaulting due to an oversight amidst both parties. As it was particularly embarrassing for the bank of their repute to make a mistake they sought to remedy the situation quietly and to use their youngest, lesser known clerks as to not draw more attention. To fix the situation, Alduin required access to their ledgers in order to properly balance the bank's books against their own. It was during this time Alduin took note of their accounts balance and other pertinent information. Once he finished his "balancing" Alduin would inform the client that there was no need to worry and that everything was in order. He would then collect their signature several times on a scroll that he could use to show his master that he'd done his duty. With the information and their signature in hand, Alduin would return to his hovel and begin the process of making up a bank note and forging the signature of his chosen victim. He would then return to the bank and pretend to be his victim's new apprentice before pulling out a large amount of ritz.
Alduin conned four traders in a sixteen months before he was caught.
Marden Lyserg, Comptroller Minor for the Bank of Sorath, was the woman who caught Alduin in his scam. The woman circumvented false information about a particularly large client and how he was considering to close out his account. Alduin couldn't pass up a chance and after getting the man's signature he showed up at the bank immediately a mere three weeks after Marden made the plant. When he showed up, note in hand, Marden was there with four large attendants. The next thing Alduin knew he was roughly grabbed and escorted to Marden's office. There the Comptroller Minor interrogated the boy about who he worked for and where he'd learned to pose as a clerk. Alduin was beaten for every "lie" he told until Marden forced him to take a battery of tests to prove his story. When the coal skin youth made child's play of all of them the woman couldn't help but laugh. Alduin had used the common man's ignorance of the bank to talk circles around them and then the bank's indifference and bureaucracy to pull the wool over both's eyes. Marden told the boy that she'd have to figure out what she'd do with him and had him thrown in an empty vault for a week. There Alduin feared for his life every time the large iron door opened, thinking it would be the end of the line for him, only to be given a meager meal of water and bread.
The final time the vault door opened it was Marden herself who had brought Alduin his meal. She sat with him then, speaking of inconsequential things as he ate his fill. When he finished she asked him to tell his story once more. Alduin recanted the tale of his parents and of their losses, his foray into thievery, and his inspiration to combine the two into one art. The entire time she wore a half smile, sitting nearly motionless. When he finished she asked several more questions, testing his knowledge once more. His answers seemed to satisfy her because after several moments of silence she asked him if he'd like a job.
From that day forward Alduin worked directly beneath Marden as her personal secretary and clerk. He lived with her for much of it, staying in her lavish manor where she taught him the ins and outs of the world of finance. Alduin learned that to cut through the red tape certain illicit acts were required and practically encouraged. Under her, he lied, cheated, and forged his way up the ladder propelled by his success and her patronage. He grew accustomed to the finer things in life and a world of upper-class criminal. The sort of criminal that could steal with a pen stroke, an off-handed word, and a smile. In that time Alduin began to exclusively use his surname to go by, believing that he left behind the moniker Alduin when he was plucked from the rubbish. Alduin was a petty thief and an idealist. Al'asard was refined, intelligent and an efficient banker. For fifteen years his world was bliss. Marden took the office of Comptroller General and Al'asard inherited her spot as Comptroller Minor acting as her thug, though, he certainly didn't look the part. He thought that he would eventually take her spot but that was never meant to be.
Marden harbored a hatred for the King of Cruinthe. Beneath the table, she worked to further the agendas of those who sought to stroke to fires of rebellion. For ten years she worked to finance those who could overthrow King Julgrava from the shadows, unbeknownst to even her closest confidant, Al'asard. She only revealed the knowledge to him one night weeks before her demise. In a drunken fit of hysteria, she told Al'asard how the executives were closing in and that her days were numbered. They only needed one more nail to seal the coffin. Al'asard took the words as the rambling of a stressed woman and put Marden to bed before retiring himself. Weeks later Marden disappeared. Much like Al'asard's mother one day, Marden was there and the next, she was gone. Al'asard probed for information regarding her whereabouts but everyone remained silent. Days passed and eventually, Al'asard was called into the office of the Director himself. There Al'asard was greeted by the kindly face of the ruler of the Bank of Sorath and the broken form of Marden. The Director told Al'asard about how Marden had been supporting an enemy of the King and that her treason would besmirch the name of the bank. That his testimony could help ease any blow that it might bring. When both Marden and Al'asard told Director that he knew nothing the older man simply tsked. Pulling a crossbow from behind his desk and shot Marden square in the chest. Al'asard ran to his second maternal figure and tried to keep the keep her life's blood from running out. As he applied pressure to her chest he listened as the Director reloaded the crossbow. Without emotion, he told Al'asard that while he had no proof that he aided Marden he had none that proved his innocence either. So, he had a choice. He could die with Marden or leave Sorath and never return. Al'asard was hysterical and continued to try and save Marden even after she went limp. The Director stirred him from his mania with a bolt to the shoulder. Without compassion, the man told the half-drokagr to run and to never return.
As the former Comptroller Minor fled he made a silent vow to himself. He would upend the institute the murdered Marden, tear its foundation out from under it, and see it burn. He fled upon horse until he reached Fordeth. There he's remained attempting to eek out an existence and make a foothold for himself to wreak his vengeance. Though his sorrow has seen him take to the bottle and a bout of sickness has only seen the man resort to his former life as a petty thief. In the month of Hueltrios the banishment of non-humans came as a shock even to a drunken Al'asard. Within days guards attempted to apprehend him. He was able to sneak the key off of one of the guards before being locked away and later that night stole away into the darkness. The downtrodden half-drokagr assumed the guise of a bandaged lepper, stumbling his way towards Innorsford, said to be a safe place from the rumors her gleamed. Since arriving Al'asard has become an almost permanent fixture in the Tipsy Darling in a constant state of inebriation.
Inventory: -- Your choice of starting equipment will be sent to you via message from the moderator that approved you.
Armor
-Head:
Stately Hat
-DR: 5
*Light, Cloth, Head*
-Armor:
Stately Vest
-DR: 10
*Light, Cloth, Chest, Back, Sides, Abdomen*
-Feet:
Stately Boots
-DR: 15
*Light, Leather, Feet*
-Gloves:
Stately Gloves
-DR: 15
*Light, Leather, Hands*
-Belt:
-Ring 1:
-Ring 2:
-Amulet:
Armaments
-Primary Weapon:
Short Trench Knife
-Dmg: 25
*Dagger, Piercing, Slashing*
-Secondary Weapon: Single One Handed Weapon (One Two Handed Weapon Takes both Primary and Secondary Slots)
-Back: Bow & Quiver, 2 One handed weapons, 1 Two Handed Weapon
-Right Arm: Gauntlet Mounted/Forged/Shield
-Left Arm: Gauntlet Mounted/Forged/Shield
-Right Thigh: Small Weapon, Throwing Knives or Axes, Single Knuckle Class, Daggers.
-Left Thigh: Small Weapon, Throwing Knives or Axes, Single Knuckle Class, Daggers.
Free Space: 0/6
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Stats Original
Str: 10
Vit: 10
Agi: 10
Ch: 10
ST: 10
T: 10
D: 10
EN: 10
P: 10
K: 10
HP: 200/200
SM: 20/20
MP: 110/110
Fight Record: (Use this area to track your progress in Player Vs Player Duels)
Wins: 0
Draws: 0
Losses: 0
Knowledge Possessed:
-Auto: Cruic I
General Knowledge
Lying I
Scholarly Knowledge
High Cruic I
Literacy I
Lord Knowledge
Accounting I
Broker I
Economics I
Negotiator I
Rogue Knowledge
Disguise I
Forgery I
Pickpocket I
