Campaign of the Month: April 2012
Kobold Psi-Mystic, Follower of Apis
Complete character sheet is Here.
A rotund kobold with a comb-over. His hair is a sort of muddy grey, what little of it there is left. He has pale red eyes and yellowed sharp pointy teeth. What little of his skin you can see is pale. He rarely shows more than simply his face. He wears long sleeved clothing, even in summer, and always wears gloves and boots. The collar of his shirts are high and go to his chin.
Picture by Peachyco.
A collection of thoughts about my life at the advent of my entry into the group known as CrIsis.
Having spoken face to face with a god, I find that my normal daily introspection turns to the life I have lead up to this point. It is not a short life, but neither is it an age. It is simply my life, and the choices that I made and which brought me to this point.
Most who know me believe that my birthday falls upon the 28th day of Pegasus. It does not.
My parents celebrated for days after my birth. They were devout Set worshipers, and my birth on the 1st of Set was considered to be a sign to them that they were favored of the god. This was something that they only slowly came to realize was not the case.
I was a stubborn child. Never capricious, never vengeful, but stubborn to a fault. I was as contrary as they come. If someone told me to go left, I would go right. I pulled away from the teachings that my parents tried to instill in me and sought out a gentler path. They would not allow it in me.
When it was discovered that I had the potential to be a conduit for higher power, they thought to apprentice me to a witch. It is a respectable profession in our community and I would have been one of the elite. They thought I would leap at the idea.
I did not.
Oh, by this time I was smart enough not to directly contradict their wishes. For the next ten years I kept offering excuses as to why I could not go into service. On the day before my thirtieth birthday they gave me an ultimatum: Either I would live to serve to Set or I would die to serve Anubis.
I would not serve Set.
They took me into custody and threw me into a hole in the ground. For 50 days I meditated on the course that my life had taken. I did not curse my parents, nor my circumstances. More I pondered who I was and what my purpose in the universe should be. During this time I rarely slept and barely ate. The physical body was a hindrance to my goals.
The morning of the fifty-first day, the date assigned for my ritual sacrifice, a light descended upon my mind and I knew what I had to do. I lay down upon my pallet, my form reposed, waiting for my jailers to arrive. When the sounds of their footsteps alerted me to their imminent arrival, I quietly cast my spell and immediately fell dead.
Not true death, but a semblance of death settled upon me. My surroundings faded away, but their frantic attempts to revive me were clear upon my consciousness. When they rushed from the room leaving the door open in their haste, I slipped out behind them. A hue and cry went out over my escape when my deception was discovered. I hid in an alcove off the main tunnel I’d been moving through and pulled a camouflage spell over me.
The fear I felt as they searched each inch of the passageway, as their eyes passed over the space where I hid. I could barely breath for fear that I would give myself away. Again, I slipped into their wake and used their own search patterns against them.
Eventually, they led me to one of the main air shafts of the community. Making myself much lighter I leapt for the opening. I could feel myself begin to slip, so I cast another spell making my hands adhere to the surface and began to climb. Time stood still as I worked my muscles to propel myself up through that air shaft. An ache set into them as minute by minute and hour by hour I pushed myself upward. Many times in my continued ascent I had to wedge myself into place so I could rest just enough so I might cast my climbing spell again. The shaft was a wonder of Kobold engineering and it ran straight and true to the top of the mountain. Two thousand three hundred and fifty feet from the bottom to the top. Two thousand mind numbing feet. The spell made the difficult possible, but it did not give me the muscles or the stamina of a seasoned climber. I was aching and sobbing by the time my blind grab for the next few inches of the shaft passed into empty air.
The cold air wafting down the shaft had long since chilled me to the bone, but the icy wind tore through the thin rags that I wore and brought me to an even greater understanding of cold than I’d ever known before.
With my last spell I increased my weight to the point that I sank deep into the snow drifted around the stone chimney at the top of the shaft. There, in a hole in the snow fashioned by my own body I huddled in on myself for warmth and for the first time in days I truly rested.
I’ll not bore you with the details of my trek off that mountain, the starvation and thirst I suffered as I wandered the wilderness afraid at every moment that I would be captured and returned to the Kobold for execution, but suffer I did for my freedom.
A small stream of icy melt-off slaked my thirst. Some wild berries I stumbled upon eased my hunger pains, even though they didn’t nourish me. I suppose it would be like eating grass for a human or elf. It fills you up, but you get no benefit for it.
I stumbled into Avramstown, half-dehydrated and delirious in my hunger. Where I went and who I spoke to are even now a blur, but I do know I woke in the space behind a stable at one of the larger inns. I had some abilities that made me useful to those around me, the forgotten, the unwanted, the unwashed masses of people who don’t quite fit in, even in a place as diverse as Avramstown.
The language was easier to acquire than acceptance with the people in the town, but I didn’t need their acceptance. I performed surgery on those that needed it. I worked for a warehouse for a while helping with their loading and unloading. It was all so mundane, and always just enough to keep me in raw meat. Some of my co-workers laughed about that and started calling me ‘dog’. Nowhere that a wolfen could hear them, of course, but more than they should have.
It was during this time that I began to hear about another side to the religion that I’d grown up with. A softer and more…kind side to this religion I’d thought was entirely focused on the worst aspects of our natures.
The priests of Apis were my first real introduction to this side of the church of Light and Dark. They were in charge of feeding and caring for the homeless, and often I would volunteer my time with them, assisting in their outreach programs. When one of them mentioned, in an offhand manner, that they’d been trained in Haven something sparked within me that wouldn’t die. I had spent almost five years in Avramstown at this point, but it would be another five before I would set out on a trek to find a beginning, a true beginning, for the teaching of my soul.
I bade farewell to the friends and colleagues that I’d made while living in this diverse town and began my pilgrimage to the heart of the Church of Light and Dark. I celebrated my fortieth birthday while on the road.
I did not head straight to Haven. My road lead a wandering path and deposited me frequently where I was most needed. Even then I felt the guiding hand of the gods in my life as I went from one crisis spot to the next. There were times I went hungry. There were times that I was cold, or tired. It was probably the most spiritual journey I have ever taken. I traveled by land from Avramstown to Haven and I did it during the course of the next three years of my life.
I reached Haven at sundown the night before my birthday. From the information that I had received I knew that I would be accepted in New Haven, especially on this most holy day for the Church of Dark. I felt myself slipping into the pathways that were so familiar to me, allowing that darker side of my personality a free reign as I walked the streets of this alien city on the day of my birth.
Let me tell you something that may not be clear: I lived for thirty years surrounded by evil. My soul was steeped in it. My parents reveled in it. Before I truly understood what it meant, I took part in the events normal to this day. Before I began to rebel, I was just like many children on this night. I borrowed from those memories in order to sneak my way into the very offices of the bishop of the church.
I was promptly thrown in Jail.
The next six years were spent between interrogations and questions and teaching. When my truthfulness was finally proven, and my sincerity to be a member of the light realized, I was allowed out of prison. There was, however, a caveat to my freedom: That I leave the city of Haven and never return to it.
A party of adventuring mercenaries led by a priest of Ra named Aescarion escorted me to the limits of the city on their way to points unknown. Somehow I convinced the priest to allow me to join them in their work.
He was wary of me given my monstrous origins, but in the end he allowed me to go with them. These were likely the best days of my life. I was with this group of adventurers for a little over three years. More time was spent traveling between our jobs than spent fighting, but I learned much of who I was and who this Priest was. He was a truly young man. Among my people he would have been considered a child still being only 18 years of age. Even for a Human he was young.
He made my own 49 years seem ancient with his joi de vivre. We formed an uneasy friendship that was finally cemented went I took a blade meant for him while we were fighting a group of Kobold that had attacked us because of my presence.
They left me to recover, which I did, but not before he promised to keep in touch, which he did for the next thirty eight years until his death at the too young age of 51.
My life took a turn for the relaxed at this point. I became a verifier of artifacts. I went on digs in old castles and settlements. In general I began to make a name for myself as ‘the Kobold Archaeologist.’
This was a relaxed and easy time for myself that was filled with introspection and easy work. Easy until about six months ago when a coven of witches decided to destroy my life’s work, or that which they considered my life’s work to be. I had meditated and decided upon a course of action when a summons to my true work intercepted me. I am recently turned 99 and only now does my real work begin.
Now I begin to help CrIsis in putting together the body of Osiris.