Sven Blackshire
Age:
Thirty-One.
Race:
Tiefling
Role/Occupation:
Bard, stand in warrior, impromptu healer, occasional scout, known spy, scoundrel, thief and part time diplomat. A loremaster and historian at heart, a bard is a true jack-of-all-trades, but master of none. Except maybe seducing and robbing the attractive women of any given land. His magical prowess could be considered child's play, his swordplay limited and knowledge of stealth fundamental he could never hope to replace someone with specialized skill, but in a pinch if lacking a role he gladly steps in, and you're always glad to have him. Unless you're a husband.
Personality:
"And with a charmed wind at his back the noble night did stride through city square, crowds gathered at either side to cheer his name in a relentless rhythm. His strong chin held high and curled blonde locks in his wake. It was at the exact moment he looked at the young adoring maiden from the crowd that he knew how the rest of his life would play out. Exceedingly quickly because he could feel a knife between his shoulders. Funny how those things work, inn'it?"
As you may expect from his vocation Sven is a very easy going man with a strong sense of humour and a flair for the dramatic. Nothing ever seems to bog his mood down to much and there's almost no situation he won't try to throw a joke at, even if it's a bit morbid or tasteless. Especially if it's morbid or tasteless, he just loves offbeat humour and death. Finds murder a comical event, common Tiefling traits really. It's not to surprising that's he's got a mile-wide selfish streak and a fair bit of hedonism in him, often willing to take his kicks where he can even if it harms another. Sometimes the cost of the other person is what makes it fun. Why rob a corpse? It can't complain and mope the next day. He's got little regard for honour, often scoffing at those who hide behind it and seems to bash family bonds. Slow to trust, quicker to rob the few people he does consider friends he will go out of his way for on occasion. Or at least not rob. And then there's his famous soft spot for human and elven women..Those tales of conquest, grandeur, and often depravity and had their fair shares of taverns enthralled for hours..
Weapons:
The Blackwater Scar: A beautiful ebony and mithril blade. Black and cold as the deepest ocean fathoms themselves this long and wickedly thick curved black is a true work of art. A long red dragon was carefully etched into the reflective black skin of it which well withstood the test of time and battle. Nicks and cuts seem to avoid it and rivers of blood wash right off it's slick surface. The true impressiveness of this piece however is it's enchantments. Two to be exact, one to increase the reflexes of the wielder, the other to keep him extra alert. In the hands of a true swordsmen this would make them a devastating force, in the hands of an agile yet extremely limited man like Sven, it makes him passable at best. This effects of this sword have saved his life more times than he cares to count, which he considers a fair trade since he almost lost his life getting it. Dread Pirates aren't known for just handing treasures over, especially when they're custom made to combat drunkenness, allowing a captain to drown himself in ale and still fight off a fellow pirate.
Ivixor's Tooth: An odd dagger, although it's size eludes to the fact it was meant as a short sword, but the jagged design renders it useless in that capacity. Made of a heavy red steel at that emitted an odd warmth and subtle light, covered in nicks and stains and swathed in different runes of a language no longer used. It's an oddly if not magically intimidating blade to even look at for most people and seems to have a strong reaction to other magical items, going so far to absorb a cheap ring once. Sven doesn't know anything about it, and rarely wields it unless to set up a story in a dim tavern, or light a bedroom. All he knows is it's a family heirloom and positively of demonic origins.
Other than his unique weapons he carries a light crossbow at his hip with a quiver of cheap bolts just in case, and a slough of magical items. His cloak is a common enchanted item, a Nymph Cloak. Magic is weaved in with the semi-precious fabrics it's comprised of. The enchantment increases one's Charisma, making the average person just a little more likeable. No one knows if the effects are indefinite or have a set number of uses except the makers. No one's ever cared to ask. Sven simply uses it off-set the unsettling aura his heritage gives him, and it just may be why his low gravely Tiefling voice is so smooth. And his Amulet is a valuable, low-charge mithril thing with a sapphire set in it. It creates minor illusions and the like, still valuable as jewelry once depleted. Other than that it's an assortment of one-time use spell rings or necklaces, illusions or healings with a few lore-oriented and memory boosting ones. The only other unique one is a very old Ring of Warding. This ring is one time use, however it's use can last a lifetime if you're careful. It places a magical print on every item on the wearers person, including packs and everything in them. If one of those items is removed by someone other than the owner without his permission a hellishly loud racket is made. When you live an unsavory life it's the only thief-deterrent you can have.
Bio:
The sons of man and outer realm creature..Things. Don't always have it the best in Atramencia. Not to say they have it bad, discrimination and racism towards them is usually passive instead of outright hostile. The biggest factor in it is that most people won't hire them. Something to do with the unnatural and unsettling aura their birth seems to bless them with. Lots of odd stares, lots of women walking slightly faster in front of you at the market and men clenching fists. Just in case. Usually not to big of a deal since most Tiefling families are very old, very pure bloodlines. Which is a high-tone and fancy way of saying they're usually bloody loaded and come with family businesses by the bushel full. Nice gig for the average youngster. Unless of course they're the rare kind of Tiefling struck with age-old wanderlust. Then the world becomes a bit of a challenge.
The prospect of sitting in a lavish mansion, counting money and marrying some attractive young demonic lass would be an average Tiefling's dream, but a sort of horrific nightmare to a young man who wants nothing more than to see the world. Options were scares, piss off the family and join the military, or really piss off the family and just wander around aimlessly. I don't think anyone saw the, "Piss off the family by becoming a traveling minstrel" option. Mostly because Sven couldn't sing. At all. And had the grace of a dead cat. The whole thing went swimmingly. You know, like a dead cat swimming.
Being unable to sing, play or dance made the minstrel bit a little difficult. The old adage of the starving artist was a little bit on the true side, too. Eventually however he did settle on an instrument he could fake, a lute. And through several magical items which abused heavily to make himself more personable he found out he actually like entertaining people, especially after he found out just how much he actually loved history and lore. Still, making a living was difficult. Until he realized some human maidens did indeed have a small thing for the red-skinned type. Once he learned the power of seduction, and subsequently theft, life took off. More stories and tales than you could imagine have spawned from his adventures, not counting his own renditions.
He'll gladly tell you a bit of his life story at any given time though, absolutely loves talking about himself and his exploits.