Ketrus/FortunateTraveller
There is little to tell about the man now naming himself Fortunate Traveller. He has few enemies and fewer friends. If he does, perhaps, have quite a lot of money as is sometimes the case, it is simply due to his profession. All his life, Fortunate Traveller has been in the business of saving lives.
Even now, he is all too grateful for being born the son of a mortal Dynast. He was educated in the finest schools available, and never knew want for shelter or medicine. Even as it became clearer and clearer as he neared adulthood that he would not Exalt, it was not a terribly shocking blow. Neither of his parents had, and their breeding was of such low reputation as to earn a position in the Lap. There are worse satraps, and there are worse fates than being mortal. He still had his education, and more importantly, a passion for his talents.
He would never equal the Wood-Aspected healers of the Dynasty, to think anything else was madness. Still, with a cunning mind and deft hands, Tepet Milus made a name for himself. He travelled the lands around the Lap, never into the desert but as far as the borderlands of An-Teng. It was there, during an unfortunate incident with armed and apparently destitute locals, that he fled into a nearby cave to take shelter. The Dynasty schools had taught him to defend himself, but they had also taught him to let others die for him. While he was watching the battle progress a little further below, something startled him, causing the hairs to raise on the back of his neck. He looked backwards, and caught a fleeting glimpse of something gleaming in the darkness. Fearing it to be an ambush, he drew his staff and slowly went to confront it.
He did not find what he expected. At the very end of the stone hollow was a seat, cast of stone and silver, next to a silver game board. It resembled Gateway, in design, but none of the pieces were familiar. Something stirred in him, then, as he harbored a love for games since childhood. He looked behind him, and seeing only the distant light of the cave opening, gave into curiousity. He picked up one of the pieces on his side of the board, and attempted to set it down--only to discover it would not. Of course, it would have to be a magic game board, given that there was no place to seat the opponent. He tried setting the piece down on two more spaces, before it finally allowed him to do so, and as he vaugely suspected, a piece on the opposing side moved to match.
He did not know the rules to the game, but he quickly learned. The movements possible depended not only on the piece, but the pieces next to it, making fortifying a position a valuable part of the game. There were other surprises, as well. Halfway through the game, his pieces began to disappear without the opponent so much as nearing them. He puzzled over this, until he realized that they were the pieces he had not moved in quite a while. Indeed, any piece he had not moved in a number of turns equal to his remaining pieces was lost. This was something he could understand. This was triage.
The opponent, whatever it was, defeated him soundly in a matter of minutes. He attempted to get the board to reset, but any command words or gestures he had been taught were useless. Deciding that by that time, the battle must be over, he got up from the chair to leave the cavern. The moment he did so, however, he was interrupted by a faint roar and the shaking of the earth. The passage was sealed by a violent rockslide.
Somehow, the cavern remained fairly well lit, well enough for him to attempt in vain to clear the obstruction. Figuring, at last, it couldn't hurt, he turned to spend the last of his air trying to get another game out of that damned board. Death was easier to think about when you didn't think about it.
The pieces were set the moment he sat down, and this time the opponent moved first. Always an intelligent man, he remembered the rules this time around, and played the rules of triage to his advantage. It was difficult, given how it hampered his mobility, but time was his ally, even as it killed him due to his dwindling supply of air. At last he lured the opponent into a formation from which it could never possibly win--with only three pieces left, moving them all to preserve them would trap them alone, easy pickings for his superior numbers. The automated board responded to this with absolute stillness. Where it had moved quickly before, it did nothing now, and Milus could not find the strength to shout his indignation as he slowly passed into unconcioussness.
When he came to, he was glowing. The board was gone--as was his chair. The entire 'end' of the cavern had opened up, in fact, into a carefully cut tunnel. It was cold, far too cold for reason and somehow windy, but he didn't notice. He stumbled forward, trying to sort through faint flickers of memory and a resounding sense of bitterness that he knew were not his. It eventually occurred to him that he was evil and possessed, but that was pushed aside with all the other ideas that weren't his.
Mumbling directions to himself, he went from room to room within the underground Manse. Most were empty, decorated only with geomanctic shapes carved into the very walls, but he half-noticed the grand maps and tapestries hanging here and there. They were unfamiliar to him--he spotted the Blessed Isle, or what was an imitation of the Blessed Isle, but it was much too small. At last, he came to what he knew to be a central chamber, if only by the design and size of it, if not some foreign memory. He walked in, and immediately tripped over a dress.
Sword of Seven Nations! Genius! Strategist! Sorceress without peer! Clothes horse.
The memories stopped when he pulled himself to his feet, and shaking away whatever was fogging up his mind, he spotted the hearthstone in quick order. Religious issues aside, this was obviously a Manse of the demon who now inhabited him. It didn't take him long to decide to simply take everything worth having and leave, as quickly as possible. If the hearthstone was corrupt and evil, after all, he'd better not let it fall into the right hands. The same logic applied to the impossibly fine chainmail shirt, wrought of orihalcum, and theoretically all the other garments strewn about the hearthstone chamber. As he was too large and far too male for anything else there, though, he simply took the chain shirt, wearing it underneath his clothes.
The cavern was open when he went to leave the way he came, which didn't surprise him. His House did not immediately execute him upon his return to the Lap, which did. All the same, he decided to take no chances.
With enough money and enough favors, nearly anything is possible. A month is all it took for Tepet Milus to disappear in a boating accident, and for the man now calling himself Fortunate Traveller to set sail for the Western isles. He wants nothing more than what he had in mortal life, the chance to save lives, pursue his craft, and perhaps one day equal the Wood Aspect masters. That, and maybe a place to put that damned hearthstone.
Character Sheet
Name: Fortunate Traveller Concept: Doctor and former Dynast Scion Player: Ketrus Nature: Caregiver Caste: Twilight Anima: Harrowing Rainstorm
(=Attributes=)
(Physical) (Social) (Mental)
Strength [XX...] Charisma [XXX..] Perception [XXXX.]
Dexterity [XXXX.] Manipulation [X....] Intelligence [XXXXX]
Stamina [XXX..] Appearance [XXX..] Wits [XX...]
(=Abilities=) 5 BP
(Caste) (Favored) (Other)
Craft [.....] Athletics [X....] Awareness [XXX..]
Investigation[.....] Dodge [XXX..] Bureaucracy [X....]
Lore [XXX..] Linguistics [XXX..] Sail [X....]
Medicine [XXXXX] Melee [XXXXX] Socialize [X....]
Occult [X....] Resistance [X....] Survival [X....]
Languages: Seatongue, Desert-tongue, High Realm, Old Realm
Melee (Staff +2)
(=Charms=)
(Medicine)
Body-Mending Meditation (10m, day, ref)
10x healing speed, no agg
Flawless Diagnosis Technique (1m, 5min, simp)
Diagnose perfectly to the extent of known
Ailment-Rectifying Method (10m, 6hour, simp)
Halt and cure disease in self
Contagion-Curing Touch (10m, day, simp)
Halt and cure disease in others, up to Medicine #
Touch of Blissful Release (5m, 6hour, simp)
-2 wound, disease penalties. -3 narcotic
Grievous Injury Recovery Method (10m, day, simp)
Day of bed rest=stam+res, ess autosucc HL recovered, no agg
Wound-Mending Care Technique (10m, day, simp)
Cure one other of stam+res, ess autosucc HL, no agg
(Melee)
Golden Essence Block (1m/2d, inst, ref)
Ref parry
Dipping Swallow Defense (2m, inst, ref)
Ref parry @ full
Solar Counterattack (3m, inst, ref)
Counterattack @ full
(=Backgrounds=) 3 BP (=Virtues=) 3 BP
Artifact [XX...] Compassion [XXXX.] Temperance [XX...]
Manse [XXX..] Conviction [XXX..] Valor [X....]
Resources [XXXX.] Virtue Flaw: Heart of Tears
Condition: Witnesses innocents suffering and cannot aid them
7 BP
Essence [XXX.......] Staff: 14 spd, 15 acc, +9B dam, 14 def, 3 rate
Willpower [XXXXXXX...] Kick: 3 spd, 5 acc, +5B dam, 1 def, 3 rate
Limit [.........!] Dodge: 10, Soak: 8/8, BInit: 6
Personal Ess 16/16
Periph Ess 38/38
Health Levels: -0: [ ] -1: [ ] [ ] -2: [ ] [ ] -4: [ ] Incap[ ]
Backgrounds:
Artifact and Manse below, further explained in the prelude above.
Resources 4 Rich people get sick too, and that's the foundation of Traveller's savings and any future earnings. He does not charge the poor for his services, should he come across them that need it, but is often supported with spare crops or a roof to sleep under no matter where he goes. When he comes to the residences of the wealthy and unfortunate, though, he does not hesitate to charge, and charge much. Mortal life is frail but valuable, and it is no uncertain occupation to heal the ailing. It is a task without end, even among the nobility.
He previously had Backing, Contacts, and a very small amount of Influence, but he gave them up with his old identity. Fortunate Traveller retains Tepet Milus' savings and his ability to make more money, but has lost all the social wealth accumulated over his youth as a Dynast.
Merits:
Flaws:
Pacifist (3 pts) +1 difficulty to all attacks Despite all his martial training and all the lessons of conquest the Realm had to offer, Traveller simply does not enjoy violence. He knows it's a necessity--this isn't anything approaching the hypocratic oath. There is just something deep down that abhors having to cause everything he has learned to heal. Equipment: Exceptional Staff (Res 1) +8 init, +4 acc, +7B dam, +3 def, 3 rate A masterfully made staff of hardwood. There is nothing notable about it other than the Old Realm rune subtly inscribed in its minimalistic decoration. It says 'coward', an insult from the Tepet family craftsman who made it. There is a long standing emnity between him and Traveller, originating in the school days in which he always hesitated during combat practice.
Orihalcum Chain Shirt (Art 2) +7/5 L/B, 0 mob, 0 fatigue If this simple and wonderfully useful artifact had a name, Traveller does not know it, and he has yet to give it a new one. It nevertheless remains faithfully tucked in between his innermost shirt and the rest of his outfit, protecting him subtly from any who do not particularly care to show mercy to a healer. Gem of Elemental Travel (Manse 3), from the Cavern of the Trapped Wind Not yet set in anything Walk on lava, quicksand, etc. This hearthstone is currently tied by taut twine to Traveller's chest, keeping it in skin contact underneath his innermost shirt to at least maintain the essence regeneration it has to offer. Traveller is currently looking to discretely buy a hearthstone amulet or similar device in which to set the hearthstone, but he values privacy and stealth over expediency. Solars have been caught and killed for lesser things.
Description
Tall but unimposing, this quiet man carries the subtley haughty air of a son of a Dynast line. He could, perhaps, pass for any other citizen of the Realm, but the noble shape of his face and his unwaveringly upright posture gives him away. He dresses simply but elegantly. Cost is not a factor, but neither is pomp. His movements are humble but graceful, embracing precision if not poetry. Unarmored, he is also seemingly unarmed but for the long wooden staff strapped to his back. No doubt a man of such obvious wealth will have bodyguards.
Notes
When travelling in or in between cities or moderately large towns, he always hires bodyguards if he has the money. He knows the bare basics of haggling due to his Dynasty education, and there are far worse employers for a mercenary than one who can heal your wounds should you get injured. This remains a variable function, one of resources, not followers or henchmen, left to the ST's discretion.
