Character Creation

Personality Trait - My moods tend to run from boyish exuberance to deep melancholy. I can delight in the simple magnificence of life one moment, only to rage against the power of the gods the next.

Ideal - I live to present the truth of the human condition to anyone who can afford a ticket to the theater.

Bond - My only bond is to the power of words and bringing them to the masses.

Flaw - Because of my fame and the concessions and indulgences it has gained me, it has been many years since I've been held to account for anything. As a result, I rarely think of the consequences of my actions.

Background - I was raised in a wealthy family and educated in the finest of parochial and ecclesiastical traditions. It was thought that I would enter the clergy, and for a time, it seemed certain that my rising star would fast track me through the ranks of the bishopric. Then I chanced to stumble onto a neighborhood theater troupe in a less-than-savory section of town.

What it spoke to me was of the possibility of words on the human soul. I immediately saw the potential to bring my thoughts and ideas straight to the masses and not have to filter them through the lens of dogma. My studies suffered as I spent every moment possible behind the stage and finally, on it.

This brought great shame to my family, but I was undeterred. My father railed against me, cursing me as I have never heard him speak, and finally disowning me. His anger seemed so out of place that I believed him taken with madness. That is, until I discovered that I had an uncle of whom I was unaware. Like me, he had shamed his family with his relentless pursuit of so "base" a profession, and my father was beyond fury that I might follow in his brother's footsteps.

I refused to relent.

Sorcery has always run in my family, and I used my magicks to great effect on the stage. Eventually, my uncle brought me into his troupe. He had secured enough wealthy patrons for us to purchase a large theater. As our renown spread, we grew emboldened to broach subjects few others dared. Some of the best and brightest minds sought us out to stage their productions.

Even as my fame grew and I began to keep the company of wealthy merchants and nobles, my father refused to acknowledge me.

With the inspiration all around me, I began writing my own plays. That was our downfall. My production of "The King's Man" was not taken well by our liege. We were all imprisoned. Despite the fact that they were my words, it was my uncle's theater. His troupe, his responsibility. He confessed to authorship, was convicted of sedition, and was executed within a week. The rest of us receieved our lashes and were set free.

Though I am free, it is evident my movements are monitored. I think it prudent to leave town. Greener pastures and all that. Hmm, in fact, it appears that haste in my exile would be even more prudent. My uncle had been talking of a play wherein a wealthy man sells his soul for power. He had only begun to sketch the outline of the tale. The odd-looking grimoire he had lately been studying and making notations in appears to be all that I will have time to secure. With this and the clothes on my back, I take my leave of this ungrateful town, which has so quickly soured on me.

Now to find a suitable escort. I recall that fellow Dankill letting it slip that people sometimes come to him with such problems. Now where to find that deuced tavern he mentioned?