Campaign 2
Belroth
Never thought I’d be an adventurer. I never realized I’d be good at anything other than research. My name is Belroth Beacon, and I was a professor at the University of Greywood in Prosperity. But now it is I who seeks truth.
I study the obscure academic discipline of Chimerology, better known as the study of the taxonomy of beasts with magic influences and mutations. I personally find it deeply fascinating to hunt rare creatures, and study their arcane properties. With my meager academic budget I would hire adventurers to capture such creatures so that I could study them. While my intention for these creatures to be captured alive was impeccably clear, I would often be given a half rotten corpse.
The unexplained phenomena that occurs deep in the greywoods is quite fascinating. Beasts mutating into never before seen hulking organisms. A giant fish with the face of a dragon! The firedogs as small as ants! Lightning gorillas! So many new creatures never before documented! I found my research deeply satisfying. It was also too grandiose to finish. For 10 long years I worked diligently to uncover this mystery but I never could quite determine the source of these phenomena.
Funding became tighter and tighter as my research turned up no leads. I was at a crossroads, I could stop my research or stop hiring adventurers and hunting the beasts myself. That’s when my sister introduced me to an elven woman named Amelia Moonwake, an adventurer who was also fascinated by the phenomena in the Greywood. She was the only person other than my family who seemed to care about my research. She truly cared about what it could have mean for the world. We were a team; I researched leads on potential beasts, she hunted these beasts with impressive skill and I studied the creatures in close detail. She even brought back an orphaned cat-like beast called a grimalkin. We adopted her, and named her Freya.
But one fateful mission Amelial didn’t return. I was used to not seeing her for days and sometimes weeks, but not months. Not a year. I hired a group to track her down, and all they found was her notebook, filled with obscure and hard to decipher symbols. She was gone.
Financial pressure from the administration became a choke hold. My class was unpopular and my research was a dead end. The claws of the Black Scale determined that my position at the University of Greywood was no longer worth funding. I’m still a professor emeritus, which I’ve been told means “not technically terminated.”
Now, I am without my research and without my partner. Before I was at a crossroads but now I am a ship without a sail in dark waters.
Traditionally when Tiefling comes of age, they are told to choose a virtue name. I chose “Beacon” to be a light others could follow. I wanted to embody a guiding light of truth and knowledge in the sea of darkness and obscurity. Now I find myself lost in that very darkness, searching for my own guiding light. And I search for her still.
Ellori
Ellori grew up in a small farming village called Naiah in the heart of Eviara. Naiah is a matriarchal town with a focus on storytelling, where everyone’s stories become intertwined in the community. Ellori’s grandmother – Idra Realtanam – is the leader of the village and everyone’s Grandma. Pure of heart and spirit and strength, she is sensitive and kind, full of stories and song. She has an -ism for everything and the whole village tries to live her advice to the fullest. A master storyteller, she has kept the tradition alive in Naiah for over a hundred years.
Naiah’s citizens follow the Argrestal Spirit through the Heart of Creation, and throw massive festivals for First Lanaren and First Fom each year. These festivals are week-long events that highlight all of the talents of the citizens. At a young age, everyone is encouraged to test out different forms of storytelling – dance, art, song, crafting, theatre, etc, to find the concentration that suits them best.
Ellori’s mom, Faile, has a concentration in weaving, and her dad, Caghan, has a concentration in dance. Ellori chose a concentration of music almost as soon as they put an instrument in her hands. They are a family full of love, but Faile and Caghan hold high expectations for Ellori and her success, as leadership of the village will be passed down to her one day.
When Ellori was four, a band of vampires came through and attacked the village. Ellori, her grandmother, and both of her parents were turned vampyr, as well as a majority of the village. Several villagers died, and some remained fully human, but the whole village embraced the need for blood and worked towards a way the vampyr could be sated through their farming practices. They put more emphasis on their animal breeding and scaled down produce farming.
All villagers are encouraged to leave Naiah when they turn 30 to find a new story to bring back to the village. If they find a path that would keep them away, they’re encouraged to follow it as long as they promise to return periodically with new tales. In the couple years before leaving, Ellori noticed that her grandmother had been starting to lose some of the older stories due to the fading. Ellori’s first focus was learning them herself, but without being able to study decades of lore, she decided to use her pilgrimage to chase a cure. Out on her pilgrimage she met Skarpin, the two of them bonding over the uniqueness of their not-quite-alive, not-quite-undead situations. They followed a flyer to Deeran’s Truth Seeker meeting where they met him and Belroth and the rest? Well, the rest is her story.
Skarpin
Skarpin Plumeria Nightholder (70 years old) is a half-Corpsen Tortallan Cleric of Oliander. His Mother (287 years old) is named Connifer Nightholder. His father (256 years old) is named Heath Nightholder. His older brother (109 years old) is named Deokin Sugarbushes Nightholder.
As a child his family was attacked by undead, but saved by a group of sentient undead. Skarpini remembers the good undead’s leader, Tom Allofus, speaking with Skarpin’s parents, Connifer and Heath.
His tortallan tribe, the Nightholders, looked for information within the dreamscape as his family traveled, sold wares, and interpreted dreams. They were searching for information about something secret, which they called The Task. Underage Tortallans were never told what this was, so Skarpin doesn’t know what The Task is.
Many Tortallan clans report every three years to Adherant, Elden Thriceworn, at the High temple of Oliander outside of the High Bascilica of the Celestial Host in Ashland. This journey is made right around First Celian.
During this visit to Ashland the Tortallans who worshipped Oliander spent their free time in and around an Old Oliander temple where the god was celebrated in the old ways with vibrant decorations, rowdy parties, and great feasts. This was called The Refresh.
The elders of the clans (those who had passed their 140th First Celian ) would hold secret meetings which the young folk attempted to listen in on. They only ever heard bits before being discovered: “Return” “Deep” “Darkness” “Tower” “Mask” “Hidden” “Deception” “Redemption”
Many years ago, the Nightholders were invited to the High Bascilica on a First Celian. Skarpin spilled his soup on Lord Obadiah Maekrix’s boots because he took his bowl with him when the Nightholders were going through the receiving line at the party.
Skarpin was very close with Calla Quisoth, a Tortle of the same age. The Quisoth clan were more secretive than most about what they were researching, but Calla was always friendly to Skarpin. Their Elder, Calla’s father, Bredonis Quisoth, didn’t approve of their friendship and thought Skarpin was a distraction to his daughter.
Skarpin came of age at 70 could then pursue own interests. Since he was leaving, he never learned what the Task was. Conifer and Heath are disappointed in Skarpin for leaving his clan to pursue selfish interests. He thought it was a waste to only learn of a single topic, the Task. First, he wanted to learn more about the Undead who saved his family when he was young. He also wanted to broaden his understanding of the world and have adventures. And although he desperately wanted to know what the Elders discussed every three years, he couldn’t wait another 70 years to be admitted to those meetings.
Skarpin went to the Deadlands to meet Tom Allofus, but Tom had left on some important task. Skarpin was taken in by the Tom’s sister, Marie Allofus, who was interim Baron. Skarpin stayed too long and became half-corpsen. He stopped dreaming when he became Corpsen. He wants to dream again.
Deeran
Deeran Salder Lincoln was born to his loving parents, Calliope and Gaulder Lincoln, at the appropriate time for parents to have children, in an appropriate setting, with appropriate precautions taken for the family’s financial outlook and the child’s education sorted out. Anything less from two leading researchers in Magical Theory and The Deep Historia would be unconscionable.
Raised devoutly in the religion of the Ancient Path, Deeran was taught from an early age to identify signs and notice the connection all things share. His ancestors would point out the Path as it spiraled out from the sands of time, bridging the divide between their lives and his current steps. This instilled in him a curiosity – if the path traveled could become so clear, couldn’t the future also be read by someone focused enough, smart enough, dedicated enough to do so? If the connections between all things could be so obvious to those who came before him, why shouldn’t he be the one to put those things together now? And, if he could put together the pieces of the present-day’s puzzle, surely it would unlock the path to stop The Fading.
Deeran had seen village elders afflicted by memory loss, a condition associated with aging normally, but he suspected it was connected to The Fading in ways that the other members of Touched societies simply hadn’t discovered yet. Infinitely curious, though not always fully-educated, Deeran made these arguments futilely with the academics his parents would invite for discussions and dinners; they dismissed his notion that there was a connection to be made.
In the circles where Calliope and Gaulder spent their time, Divination magic was derided as an imprecise, impractical aspect of the magical tapestry of the universe. Its volatility and open-to-interpretation nature “lends itself to an unacceptable level of signal-to-noise for a real, hard magic course of study.” Hearing their son’s interest, needless to say, was a disappointment to the Lincolns, who did their best to refocus him on a course of study more acceptably-structured… and yet, every time they tried, they were met with resistance from their son, who quoted ancestral stories he’d gleaned from time in the temples.
Using this to their advantage, then, would be easy. If they could simply connect with Calliope’s own parents, passed before Deeran had been born in a tragic accident at a far-off Black Scale research center off the coast of The Demon Isles, surely he would listen to the combination of reason and ancestry?
On Deeran’s 16th birthday, he was presented with the crystalline sphere containing the spirit memory of his grandparents, Trellan and Parrow Lincoln. Eager to connect with them and understand their connection in All Things, Deeran’s conversation with them immediately drifted from where they had been to where he was planning on going. Neither Trellan nor Parrow had any supportive words for him, behaving just as Calliope had thought they would. They pushed against his “wild imagination,” discussing the importance of understanding the basis of magical knowledge in order to push existing boundaries in respectable, repeatable, observable fields, and in no uncertain terms expressed their disdain with the idea that Deeran would be able to accomplish a feat no one had previously. They told him unlocking The Fading was not a matter of determining where its source was and breaking through that barrier, but simply a fact of the world, and the sooner he started to accept this, the sooner he could follow in his parents’ footsteps and do some real scientific research.
Deeran was crushed. His own grandparents wouldn’t support his dreams? What had happened along his ancestral pathway that some of those spirits would have been so understanding and approving, but the last two generations of his family’s lineage would be so against this course of study?
He tried his best. He let things go. He decided to continue his education at the Black Scale Institute of Prosperity, leaving behind the comfort of his home on the coast of Varina. Yes, there were many options for prestigious universities in the city of Varina, as well as in Morevia, with its historical significance and massive libraries dedicated to the research and knowledge of history and magic, but if Deeran were to leave Federation Bay for anything, it would be something he’d never experienced before. The dense forests and soaring mountains of Grey Woods seemed the perfect place to find himself on weekends away from studying, socializing, and debating in the taverns and canopy gardens of Grey Woods’ capital city. The drawings he’d seen of the city were almost too fanciful to be real, but upon arrival he realized how muted they’d truly been. Arcane lights flickered throughout the trees, interspersed with torches and laughter and music and shouts from an innumerable number of people, all experiencing the life he’d hoped would be out there. Truly, in Prosperity, urban and remote had connected to become one, and he felt at home here. He still carried his grandparents with him on a chain around his neck, but over time, felt his connection to the teachings of the Ancient Path wane as he spent more and more time talking with friends of other religious backgrounds. As his first year came to a close, he realized for as many religions as there were, they all contradict one another in some ways, and share certain universal truths. The universal truths were the ties that bound them, and there was a moment of realization for Deeran as 2nd Lanaren carried in the new forest growth – The Enlightening accounted for this. Deities had no individual tie to magic – belief in The Celestial Host or The Ancient Path or The Agrestal Spirit, or even believe in oneself, allowed the most faithful to perform the same magics – there had to be something beyond; something that connected everything. Even Dennar would have to believe in the connection of everything here!
Upon the end of his first year, he moved out of student housing, and into a shared space with other Enlightened. He made the decision not to return to school in first Fom, as was expected. He took his leave of the Black Scale, and made a promise to begin doing instead of thinking.
His first order of business was flyering the school and drumming up support for a new group; Seekers of Truth. He knew the reputation the Seekers of Discovery carried, and wanted to continue having an “in” on-campus for any research texts or equipment they may need to borrow, so he imprinted the symbol of the Black Scale on the crystal containing his grandparents. They wouldn’t mind, he thought; if anything it helped tie them to the organization they’d given everything to – their lives, their legacy, and their children’s lives. Given Deeran’s generally-academic look, he was almost never stopped, and when he was, he gave answers to his interrogators that made the Seekers sound like a new club on-campus.
When he visited his parents for 1st Celian, Deeran neglected to inform them that he’d abandoned his course of study. His parents funding his current lifestyle would not have gone over well, so the more they thought he was in school, learning, the better. He’d spent the majority of time back home in Federation Bay with old friends from home.
Terran (Fusetrack) had become a blacksmith’s apprentice early on, and was getting ready to take over for old Smith Wellan in the first few months of Elared – living in a beach town, folks tried to work as little as possible during those months to enjoy their lives, but Wellan had decided he’d had enough. She was ready to take over, as she’d always been the oldest soul in their friend group, and hard as steel.
Dennar (Tris) was feeling excited about planting season coming up. Something about the relatively wet, but warm, Celian forecasts was… Deeran zoned out. He didn’t ever pay attention when Dennar had talked about farming, but he really appreciated their positive outlook and general lighthearted approach to life. In the same way Dennar zoned out about Deeran’s insistence that everything was connected, and life was a cosmic mystery, and Deeran never took offense, Dennar didn’t mind Deeran’s inability to muster care about crop rotation. They were happy to keep things simple, grounded, and vibrant.
Deeran found himself happy to spend time with his old friends, but excited to get back to his new ones. His mentor in The Enlightening, Thelir (Nightpath) would be excited to hear about everything, and to learn that Deeran’s parents hadn’t discovered the ruse of continued schooling, so Deeran could continue to stay with the rest of the group.
* * *
Not two months returned to Prosperity, Deeran’s deception was discovered and he was told in no uncertain terms that, “until such time as proof of re-enrollment at The Black Scale Institute is provided, no further support will direct itself into your accounts from The Lincolns of Federation Bay.” By that point, though, he’d already met a group as action-oriented as he was… maybe moreso.
Campaign 1
Asher
Class: Druid/Barbarian
Race: Half-Elf
History: I feel uncomfortable when I stay in one place.
The Knoquu are a nomadic people of the desert of Ishtara, and are as close to family as I ever came. I don’t remember much of my youth, though I know I was not born with these people. It was not uncommon for the Knoquu to adopt the lost children and wandering souls to their ways. Many of us simply have no other choice. Adopted by the tribe, I became accustomed to the way of the nomad and survival in the desert. To most a desert is a wasteland; a mountain of sand covered by a blanket of heat. To the Knoquu, it is home.
The desert druids to Tezcatlipoca led the tribe through the harsh sands. They would look after me, and show me how the druids of the desert draw their power. They were capable of finding life where many struggle to see it. The desert druids guide the tribes from oasis to oasis, dictating that we not stay in place for too long. We would raid other tribes, and small settlements but did not shed blood if blood was not needed. We are masters of survival, not cruel.
Well at least for most of my life that was true.
Something changed. Slowly at first, but more and more I noticed. The raids seemed less about survival and more about violence. We had never taken prisoners before, but soon would become common place. I questioned the desert druids but I was told it was not my place to question.
On the night of the summer solstice, a night of celebration, the desert druids began their sacrifices. This was for Tezcatlipoca? This was for the same god? This was for survival? There was an obvious frenzy about the tribe. Does no one else notice this is insane?
When the festival died down and the tribe found rest, I fled.
Now I am far far away from those I called family. I take jobs with adventure inc, usually as a scout. I have nowhere else to go, but I never did. I’ve always wandered, but now I wander in solitude.
Gillik
Class: Paladin/Warlock
Race: Dwarf
History: The Urdrad family hails from Bradmont, where it is well-respected for its large, branching family of devout Clerics, Monks, and Paladins. However, it is most revered for the members of its highly skilled line of Peacekeepers. Umrus Urdrad boasts an enduring lineage of Peacekeepers, with the trade being passed on from parent to the first-born offspring. Umrus’s eldest son, Torrik, would be no exception to this long-standing tradition, and was groomed from birth to succeed his father. Training for a Peacekeeper includes education in the ways of both combat and the Divine Court. Torrik approached his lessons tirelessly and devotedly.
Gillik, being nearly 10 years Torrik’s junior, grew up admiring his mighty brother, listening to his tales of adventure, and dreaming of the day that he might follow in his footsteps. Gillik requested of his father that, the moment he was old enough, he might begin training like Torrik. Umrus observed his children in their training and concluded that Torrik was to be the sword of the family, while Gillick’s stronger devotion to the Divine Court and extreme pride in the family name made him ideal to carry on the more religious traditions. In fact, Umrus saw great potential in Gillick as a Cleric, but knew that his youngest son was set in his passion to become a Peacekeeper, just like his older brother.
The day had finally come when Torrik was to be appointed Peacekeeper and sent to Emberfall to fill a vacant post. Gillik stayed behind and kept to his training, diligently awaiting his own time in which he could proudly join his brother. Several years passed, but the brothers remained in touch by exchanging letters. During this time, Torrik’s words became more and more bleak, hinting at corruption within the kingdom and perhaps even a curse over the throne.
The political turmoil finally came to a head with the assassination Markus Mordhein. Torrik was accused of the murder and found guilty of regicide and treason to the kingdom. This was a heavy blow to the proud Peacekeepers, who kept the news of Torrik secret from the public. As punishment for breaking his duty to the royal family, his oath to the Peacekeepers, and the reputation of the Urdrad family, Torrik was sentenced to execution. His own father, Umrus, carried out the sentence, for who better to purge this dishonor from the family name than the patriarch himself.
Shortly before the events that led to his execution, Torrik sent Gillik a strange message. It began like any other of his letters, with news of the town, Torrik’s daily duties, and other bits of commonplace blather. But Torrik closed with a strange line: “And so, dearest brother, I must end this letter. I leave you with a request, Please Seek Percie.”
Ever since the shameful demise of his eldest, Umrus’s health has begun to wane terribly. Gillik is his last hope of continuing on the line of noble Peacekeepers and upholding the family name. It is customary for Peacekeepers to seek experience through travel and adventure, for only the heartiest of Paladins are fit to be called Peacekeeper. In the midst of his depression and failing health, Umrus secures a position for Gillik with Adventure Inc. in order to continue his education.
Gillik, now setting out independent from his clan, continues on his path for the title of Peacekeeper. He also patiently seeks any information that could help him uncover the truth behind the actions of his brother that led to the dire events of Emberfall.
Jebeddo Fonkin Oneshoe Stumble Nackle-timbershivers
Class: Rogue
Race: Gnome
History: Jebeddo was born to traditional gnomish parents in a forest burrow on the edge of Perrinth in Bradmont, just north of the big bend in the Starlight River. He was raised reading in massive gnomish libraries and learning from the village elders, playing pranks and setting silly traps that ended in a spray of confetti, dust, or flour stolen from store rooms. Equally appreciative of the abilities and teachings of Oliander and Vorilian, Jebeddo embodies the true spirit of forest gnomes.
As he grew older, his curiosity took him further and further from his forest community, building rafts with friends and floating the Starlight during the spring and summer. On his 30th birthday, he floated a raft all the way through the heart of Varina to King’s District. This was the trip that hooked Jebeddo on the life of the traveler. He saw so very many things from so very many far away places he’d only previously read about, and realized the stories were only the beginning. There were legends to pursue.
While in Varina, Jebeddo found himself in with the often misunderstood alchemist guild. Here, he apprenticed with a select few outsiders who would appreciate, or at least tolerate, his penchant for jokes and tricks. They taught him a great deal about dyes, chemical reactions, and, his favorite, explosions.
By his 55th year, Jebeddo had grown in importance in the guild to the point where he realized there was terrible corruption in the city of Varina. All guilds in town seemed to pay tribute to different members of the Cardoza Family, an old, powerful family of great wealth.
Jebeddo couldn’t figure out quite what these payments were going toward. He was instructed by the head of his guild to stop asking such dangerous questions, but it’s not in ol’ Fonky’s capability to drop it when he’s stumbled onto something interesting. Nackle had worked out most of the situation when, one night, the Cardozas reacted with vengance toward his guild. One night while he and his guildmates worked late (as they often did), the Cardoza clan set fire to their hall, barring the door from the outside. Thanks to his size, Jebeddo was able to escape through a small hole in the woodworks, disappearing into the canals of Varina.
He originally planned to travel to Carapath on a tip – mystery, history, and magic intermingled in the capital city of Morevia, but he met up with a team to adventure with along the way, who’ve started to grow on ol’ Oneshoe. Their size and abilities may also come in handy if he can return to Varina and seek revenge.
Jennuvera Daardendrion Woariir
Class: Sorcerer
Race: Dragonborn
History: My father was exiled from the Daardendrion clan shortly after I was born so my mother dutifully went with him to the tunnels of Ishtarra and stayed until I was three years old. At that time, when their wedlock was considered broken, she returned to the clan and left me with my father with the full belief that a product of his could not possibly be good. My memories of my mother are faded and few, she seemed almost afraid of me, counting down the days until her duty let her return to her clan.
My father was addressed by the family name he gave adopted—Woariir, the lost one—and tried to build some sort of stability for me. He worked in a library in Ishtarra and brought me with him, using the books as babysitters. He kept my sorcery a secret from me, not allowing me contact with others hoping to delay the development of my powers. He would lock himself in his study for hours on end; sometimes I would listen at the door and could hear the slow, thick bubbling of boiling metal and the sudden pops of incorrect mixtures. As a child, I didn’t mind being alone in the library. I soaked up every volume, especially gravitating towards the arcana and made up games to entertain myself: I would test how quickly I could memorize a page of text, I would build worlds in my imagination based on what I was reading about and would have conversations with invisible characters. As I got older, I began to feel trapped and could sense the power burning inside of me, trying to escape. I began to fight with my father, to beg him to let me leave and return to our clan. I tried to convince him, using every technique I had learned from books that they would accept me and be proud of the knowledge I had attained. The day I turned 15, finally an adult, I told my father I was leaving with or without his permission. He forbade it; he wouldn’t listen, and I got angry. Without knowing what was happening, my sorcerer instinct took over and I hurled an acid splash at my father, severely injuring him and disintegrating many of the books around us. As he lay dying, he pulled himself to his desk and unlocked a secret compartment. He pulled out a small journal and told me it contained all of his research in alchemy; he had unlocked secrets many would kill for. I had read about alchemy briefly, but the greed and obsession it seemed to create in its practicers had never appealed to me or urged me to explore further.
With his dying breaths, my father told me I needed to travel to Morevia and find Adonan Gellantara of the Notatia Collective. I needed to give him this journal and in turn he promised Adonan could explain the origins and extent of my sorcery and possibly how to reunite with my clan.
I had never known why my father was exiled from the clan, but after his final request to me, I began to suspect it has something to do with the way he attained my sorcery.
I made it to Morevia, moving blindly with guilt and determination through the desert terrain and across the Ishtarra Wastes. I found the city loud and overwhelming; too many people with too few answers. I went to the conservatory my father had pointed me towards, and through several channels of poor communication found out that Adonan had moved on long ago.
I had nothing to return to in Ishtarra and a burning desire to exist in a world in a way I had never been able to, so I decided to adventure and along the way, try to discover more about my past and my powers. I joined with a band of fellow adventurers, hoping they would be able to help guide me and ease me into the intense socialness of the world outside a library. It’s difficult for me to make friends, as I never have had any and I tend to (usually fairly) underestimate the intellectual capabilities of others, but I believe that the universe has finally opened itself up to me and I am going to seize every opportunity to soak up knowledge, to find opportunities to build my skills. I intend to find my clan eventually and when I do, I want to be sure they will be absolutely thrilled with what I have done; they will have no choice but to welcome me with open arms.
Keth
Class: Fighter/Monk
Race: Half-orc
History: My name is Keth. No last name. I’m a Half orc, black hair, blue eyes, scar in the shape of an “X” on the back of my left hand. My father attacked my mother’s village on a raid. He gave my mother the same scar on the back of her hand as he did all the humans he had taken, so he would never take the same one twice. My mother became pregnant with me, and after I was born she was disgusted with what I was. She cut my hand with the “X”. She could not bear raising a half orc so she ventured far from her home to an orc village one night before I was a year old. She burst into a hut on the outskirts of the village and found a bloody scene. A male orc was holding a female on a bed who was unmistakably dead. An infant was lying still in her lap covered in its mother’s blood. I was never told what words were exchanged that night, but the orc father took the half orc infant from the human woman who then fled and never returned. That night, Dirk named his new son Keth. Grew up training to fight and kill. Dirk was gamekeeper and houndsmaster. Keth grew to love all animals and to fiercely protect them, and would only begrudgingly slaughter one for food when commanded by Dirk.
Keth began participating in raids at the age of 12. He was as brutal and as ruthless as any. That is what he was raised to to be. At 16 he was pillaging a village he killed two humans as he was entering a building. A third, a woman, fled before Keth could finish her. He walked in and found dozens of children, none older than 10. He had always avoided killing children when on these raids. He knew what was expected of him. But he couldn’t. What came after his refusal was a beating that was expected to leave him dead while he watched the slaughter of the children. Somehow he lived and stumbled back to his father’s hut. Keth was disgraced and exiled. His father told him he must leave, but before he Keth left, Dirk explained how he came to be at the orc village, and the story of his scar on his left hand.
After he left his home he began mercenary work and finally stumbled into becoming a bounty hunter, traveling the lands. He has mixed feelings about both his mother and father. He knows he would recognize them because of their matching scars. He vowed to never participate in senseless killing, protect those weaker than him, and especially children. He has created a quilted fur cloak of each animal he has killed since he left his village. He keeps a small piece of their fur or skin and sews it on.
Keth is from the forest in between Carapath and Varina. Carapath is the verdure region, so it’s rich and the Orcs would enjoy raiding them. Also scribes and scholars go there, so they’re less fighty and easier pickings for the orcs. King Elletrix is rumored to have put a price on the head of any orc seen within a short distance of Morena that can be collected from the Morena City Watch. Half orcs are frequently feared and attacked almost as often as full orcs. This has made bounty hunting within Carapath difficult and dangerous. Keth frequently disguises himself to collect his bounties. He has refused to take the life of any Orc for pay from the Watch.
Keth has done most of his bounty hunting in Emberfall, which has a ton of theives, organized crime, and shitty people with prices on their head. People are suspicious of half orcs there too because they have always been plagued by dark creatures emerging from the forest and caverns.
In the northern kingdom of Perrinth they are wary of outsiders until they prove their trust. Keth has done a favor by finding a Duke Jette’s daughter and killing the kidnapper by posing as the payer of a ransom. He is welcomed Duke Jette’s circles and mostly throughout Perrinth.
He is wanted for murder in Bradmont. His bounty was in a tavern drinking with others. A man attacked Keth in defense of the wanted man, and Keth killed the man and took his bounty out of the tavern. The next day he was chased by the City Watch and only barely escaped. It turns out the man was a Liutenant of the City Watch. The people of Bradmont would not believe that the Lieutenant was associating with the wanted man and attacked Keth first, so it was said Keth drunkenly killed the Captain out of cold blood while the Captain must have been trying to keep the peace.
Keth has worked closely with Brolly’s at Brawlers at times when he knew he could pay them after he captured a particularly lucrative bounty. They have provided useful information and muscle in Keth’s work.