Граф Орлов
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Yuventius Amm
Click. Click-click. The man nervously flicked his lighter again, still unable to believe that his talisman, a memento of his homeland, Ammantur, an object of vanity, and a source of admiring glances, had become useless. Cursing, he reached for the matches, lit a candle, and stared into the mirror.
-- I'm getting old... so old... no surprise... I'm old, I look terrible, and now the lighter is broken, Salitil, take it!
In a fit of anger, he punched the mirror, but, to make matters worse, he discovered that he was also weak, so the man ended up with a bruised knuckle, while the mirror remained unscathed.
His situation was dire. Almost all the trinkets he had brought from Ammantur in his youth had been sold, he was long considered a hopeless slacker in the cult, he was no longer attractive to wealthy middle-aged women, and he hadn't been lucky in games for a long time. Could it be that he would have to work? He had never been good at it, and now he was too old to learn.
-- Oh, I'm doomed, doomed... Cruel, envious gods! Do you see this? Is this your doing?!
But he's not stupid. He's always been smart. He knows history, demonology, and a little bit of technology – the average Selenirian doesn't even have a tenth of his intelligence. They sit under the thumb of the gods, blind, servile fools, happily mooing like cows in a barn. Why is he doing so badly? Obviously, it's all the gods' machinations. He's the one who's hustling, always managing. How cleverly he smuggled so much valuable stuff out of Ammantur! What a wise idea it was to join the Sorn-Tarnites – he wouldn't want to crawl through dungeons or patrol the perimeter! He sees the essence, and the essence is that it's simply interesting with them, and everything else is just fluff. He knows that excessive aestheticism is vulgarity, and euphoria is inevitably followed by an equally proportionate letdown. He knows the nature of the gods – capricious, authoritarian, vicious – worshipping them is no more sensible than worshipping a K'eian or a Shadari. If anything deserves worship, it's only the mind, for among the multitude of hostile and powerful forces, it is the only saving thread for those who can barely be called human. And his life is passing, he's getting old, and it's getting harder and harder to hold on. He just wants to live a little longer, in comfort, with money, reading something, without straining himself. However, old age is not the problem – he has always found it difficult to exert himself, and it's pointless anyway. There are easier ways.
-- Alright... First, to the capital. Borrow some money, play some cards, make a quick buck here and there, maybe I won't fail.
Race: Kaishi: +1 to Endurance and Strength.
Religion: Atheism
Origin: Ammantur
Organization: Cult of Sorn-Tarn
Professions:
Demonologist -- +3 to Will, 50% chance of seeing a nameless demon's profile upon encountering it.
Historian -- +2 to Dexterity and Faith, +50 experience when reading new books.
Talent: Gambler
Skills:
Technological Weapons I
Eloquence I
Choice: Gift (Blood)
Characteristics: Will +2, Endurance +1, Spirit +2
Click. Click-click. The man nervously flicked his lighter again, still unable to believe that his talisman, a memento of his homeland, Ammantur, an object of vanity, and a source of admiring glances, had become useless. Cursing, he reached for the matches, lit a candle, and stared into the mirror.
-- I'm getting old... so old... no surprise... I'm old, I look terrible, and now the lighter is broken, Salitil, take it!
In a fit of anger, he punched the mirror, but, to make matters worse, he discovered that he was also weak, so the man ended up with a bruised knuckle, while the mirror remained unscathed.
His situation was dire. Almost all the trinkets he had brought from Ammantur in his youth had been sold, he was long considered a hopeless slacker in the cult, he was no longer attractive to wealthy middle-aged women, and he hadn't been lucky in games for a long time. Could it be that he would have to work? He had never been good at it, and now he was too old to learn.
-- Oh, I'm doomed, doomed... Cruel, envious gods! Do you see this? Is this your doing?!
But he's not stupid. He's always been smart. He knows history, demonology, and a little bit of technology – the average Selenirian doesn't even have a tenth of his intelligence. They sit under the thumb of the gods, blind, servile fools, happily mooing like cows in a barn. Why is he doing so badly? Obviously, it's all the gods' machinations. He's the one who's hustling, always managing. How cleverly he smuggled so much valuable stuff out of Ammantur! What a wise idea it was to join the Sorn-Tarnites – he wouldn't want to crawl through dungeons or patrol the perimeter! He sees the essence, and the essence is that it's simply interesting with them, and everything else is just fluff. He knows that excessive aestheticism is vulgarity, and euphoria is inevitably followed by an equally proportionate letdown. He knows the nature of the gods – capricious, authoritarian, vicious – worshipping them is no more sensible than worshipping a K'eian or a Shadari. If anything deserves worship, it's only the mind, for among the multitude of hostile and powerful forces, it is the only saving thread for those who can barely be called human. And his life is passing, he's getting old, and it's getting harder and harder to hold on. He just wants to live a little longer, in comfort, with money, reading something, without straining himself. However, old age is not the problem – he has always found it difficult to exert himself, and it's pointless anyway. There are easier ways.
-- Alright... First, to the capital. Borrow some money, play some cards, make a quick buck here and there, maybe I won't fail.
Race: Kaishi: +1 to Endurance and Strength.
Religion: Atheism
Origin: Ammantur
Organization: Cult of Sorn-Tarn
Professions:
Demonologist -- +3 to Will, 50% chance of seeing a nameless demon's profile upon encountering it.
Historian -- +2 to Dexterity and Faith, +50 experience when reading new books.
Talent: Gambler
Skills:
Technological Weapons I
Eloquence I
Choice: Gift (Blood)
Characteristics: Will +2, Endurance +1, Spirit +2
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza,
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers