Empires of Twilight: Ayrdonya
Lawful Neutral Human Sorcerer, Gypsy
A human of shadowy, lean features, Vasili Dragomir has been referred to as darkly handsome. He is of average height, but thin build. His jet black hair is kept long and a bit disheveled, but it matches well with his long moustache and trimmed goatee. His dress is modest, yet stylish and flowing, and he employs no armor or weapons of any kind.
He carries himself with calm exuberance that at times seems childlike and whimsical. To the common eye he appears to be nothing more than a vagabond or street urchin. As noticeable as his moustache, he keeps a ready laugh for any who would engage him in conversation. There is something welcoming and inviting about his presence. He rarely appears to be brooding or in foul spirits. If asked about his travels or profession a common response is, “I like to spend my time with the three greatest things on this world: women, wine and swine.” Vasili gives very little hint that he is adept at magic, and prefers to use his tongue in situations rather than his arcane arts.
It’s easily noticed that he is dexterous by his gait, but it is more easily seen that he lacks much physical strength. However this does not dissuade him from attempting to use it. He is always the first to offer help to move heavy things, arm wrestle companions or any other tests of strength he may come across.
A man quick with a smile and a wink, a coin for a beggar or a drink for a lady; Vasili Dragomir is not easily forgotten once given a few minutes of someone’s time.
Blessed with good looks and a disarming nature, most people find your personality to be magnetic, and find themselves persuaded by your words.
Benefits: You gain a +1 trait bonus when you use Bluff or Diplomacy on any humanoid that has an indifferent, friendly, or helpful attitude towards you (per the Diplomacy skill description), and a +1 trait bonus to the save DC of any language-dependent spell you cast on such characters or creatures.
The extraordinary circumstances surrounding your birth lead you to believe that someone, or something, sinister has plans for your future and needs you alive.
Benefits: You gain a +1 trait bonus on all saving throws to resist death effects and a +2 trait bonus on Constitution checks made to stabilize while dying.
XP: 1,500 (2nd Level)
Starting Gear: Sorcerer’s Outfit, Journal
The Dictum tells us that what lies behind and what lies ahead are small matters compared to what lies within. The reflection of my eyes in the mirror tells a tale of the past’s corruption of the future by tainting my soul. What is within me crushes my edges, creeps into my being slowly over time, threatening to consume my gypsy heart with darkness. The taint within me is not of my own accord, but the curse of a dark pact made and left unfulfilled. The contract cursed my blood, broke my mother’s spirit and left me bound to an infernal fate all for the sake of lustful wanting.
I was born in the Consolidated Regions of Tesh, but to label me Teshian would be false. I am Gitano; gypsy, vagabond, carnival dweller. Raised by my mother, Amalia, and my grandparents Costache and Edmond Dragomir I am descended from a long line of world dwellers. That’s what Gitano means. We are of this world, from nowhere and everywhere. However, I walk this life apart from my people while I try to find a way to cure, or tame, the beast that lies dormant in my nature.
I have never known my father. All I know is the tale my grandfather tells, but I believe his words. The great law teaches that children tell what they do, men what they think, and elders what they have seen. Many years ago, when my mother was a young woman, my caravan passed through the Tesh Capital city of Sarzioch. During the Great Stag Festival we took room in a merchant neighborhood. One evening while my grandfather was plucking at his lute and singing gypsy tales for the inn’s patrons in return for lodging, my mother met a man named Samael Abbadan, a soldier newly enlisted in the Teshen Defense League. My grandmother speaks that he was charming at first impression, but she saw malice in his soul. During a particularly raucous refrain during a Gitano anthem she recounted him being the only one in the tavern not singing along. As my grandmother would say often to me, “Bad men don’t sing.”
As the festival week went on my mother’s interest in the man passed, however he was apparently not one to accept rejection in any form. He became more insistent that my mother see him, but what he really was looking for was to have her fulfill his carnal desires. I am told that my keen, dark eyes and thin nose come from my father; that I have his hunter’s features. I wish that was all he gave to me, but the Gitano have a saying, “You cannot stop a whore, not with a hundred horses.”
As the end of the festival grew near my mother had an inexplicable change of heart one day. After working in the market selling the dresses and tunics she fashioned Samael came to her with an offer to walk her back to her lodging. By the time she reached the inn she openly proclaimed her love for him to her parents, even claiming she was willing to leave the Family to be with him. My grandparents gave pause to her claims, but did not fight with her desire to see the man again. My grandfather says they let her be because, “In this world there are such things as false truths and honest lies” and they needed to see which it was. He says that night shall haunt him for the rest of his days.
The rain came down that evening in a thunderous roar. The heavens cried in a torrent that nearly drowned out strikes of lightening outside the city. My grandmother has said one could feel the aura of Uranok that night. The tavern they lodged at, The Golden Talon, was empty that evening. The shadows danced on the stone walls as the storm shook the ground when suddenly my mother came screaming through the large double doors. Her dress was torn and blood ran down her legs. Her eyes were frighteningly empty as she wailed into the void. She was not wet with rain, but with a slimy sweat that repelled water like oil. Her body shook in convulsions as she fell to her knees in the middle of the room. Behind her followed Samael, a look of pure fear in his eyes overpowered his ghostly white face. He fell beside my mother and shook her, seemingly trying to wake her from her episode. Instead she looked up at him with jet black eyes and smiled with a gleeful sneer. “This pact is made, you got your meal and it is time for my dessert.” Her voice was deep and otherworldly, like five large men’s voices doubled over each other again and again. Her arms sharply flew wide and she arched her back to the heavens and let out a roar that sounded like a horn of the Nine Hells. My grandfather has told me my mother would have been lost that night had my grandmother not so quickly called on her connection to Conthul. Her incantations rose in unison to that of the roar of the devil in my mother. Suddenly a voice cascaded from Costache ringing off the walls and shattering glass behind the bar, “Be gone from my daughter, foul creature of beneath!” My grandmother was wreathed in a white aura that exploded around her, knocking my mother to the floor and slamming Samael against a wall rendering him unconscious. The room grew quiet and then darkness drowned out her light. A dull, red glow appeared from a distant, corner of the common room and from that gate emerged a Pit Fiend. He stood head and shoulders above any in the room as he strode into view. “I am Marduk. Who dares to break contract with me?” He lowered his eyes menacingly on my grandmother. “I am Costache, a High Priestess of Conthul, and this woman is not yours to take,” She spat at Samael as he was beginning to stir, “nor his to give.” The devil then laughed sadistically as he walked closer to my mother. “Foolish priestess, the fact that you have warded the woman is the only reason I have graced you with my presence. Do you think I do not understand the world of magic? The woman is not my prize.” With blinding speed the devil was at my mother’s side, his hand on her belly as she lay on the floor. When he touched her she bellowed in agony and her eyes opened with fear. “This is mine. Given by the father.” The devil then gave a yellow, toothy grin as he again looked at Samael and disappeared. My grandparents ran to my mother’s aid as she lay on the floor sobbing; seemingly back in control of her faculties. My father rose to his feet, breathed a ragged apology and ran into the raging storm, never to be seen by my people again.
My mother has never spoken a word again. I have never heard her voice. She stares at the world blankly, going through life’s motions as if she had something ripped from her that night. As for me, my grandmother says that I am Infernal, and within me is the taint of that devil. Over time I will change as my darkness grows in power. No one knows how much of me I will lose to the dark pact, or how to purify my soul. I can feel it scraping at my mind sometimes, trying to claw its way to the surface. I will not return to the Family until I am free of this curse. I will find a way to be unbound from Marduk and my father’s agreement, whatever it had been. I will harness my own destiny; I will rid myself of this plague, save my mother from hers and return to where our songs play in the night. I am Gitano, and I will not surrender to the evil of the Nine Hells.
DM Notes: Wanting to put as much distance between himself and the Family as possible, for their protection, Vasili has found passage on several sailing vessels and managed to travel to nearly the other side of the known world. His gypsy heritage makes him an exotic sight on the Dagger Coast, but it has also made him ready for the challenge of facing a strange world filled with strange people.
Being a gregarious lover of life, but living on the fringes of a harsh society, Vasili felt that he needed to find some companions. He recently made the acquaintance of two kindred spirits, Godric, a quiet and mysterious man, and Vinkain, an elven blade dancer- a rare sight on the Dagger Coast. The relationship between the three was mostly the work of Vasili, but they have certainly grown to be good friends. Residing at a small cottage in Last Pointe, Vasili has even managed to get his two comrades to have the occasional drink at a rough-and-tumble wharf-tavern known as the Staggering Sailor…