Randovich's page

Randovich surveys the building suspiciously.
"Is it even safe for a mage to frequent such a place? I'd think that their abilities, combined with the lowered inhibitions of their drink and the volatile patrons would be a recipe for disaster."
The young Varisian extends a leery gaze towards the Sczarnis at the door, unsure of what to make of them.

Just wanted to give you all a heads up that I'm going on a holiday retreat, and will be without internet for a couple days. I'll be back again on Wednesday!

Randovich shoots a mocking grin to Torald. "It seems you'd be well within your rights to do so as long as you work out a contract first."

Randovich glances darkly to the men kneeling before the statue. His fists clench and fire dances in his eyes, but keeps his tongue as they are lead to the man who seems to be in charge. With the introductions complete, he steps towards Laval, making no gesture of greeting or formal address.
"What is this pressing matter that has brought us to your door? It must indeed be dire, as the nature of this problem has thus far eluded each and every one of your subordinates."

Randovich's eyes narrow as the band steps into the temple. The presence of slaves and the lewd innuendos of the clergy do little to set him at ease. His posture is tight and alert, and he seems to be going out of his way to avoid touching anything.

"That, at least, would be an interesting sight. I suppose we all have something to learn from the clergy."

Randovich takes a few hurried steps after the others as he ponders Celia's words, morosely fingering the dagger at his belt.

"You're certain there's no other way? I suppose I'll have to be content to bury them, then. You can teach me how to do this?"

Randovich turns to a Celina with a weary sigh, a resigned look on his face.
"I appreciate your offer of help, but control is not what I seek - I want to be rid of these powers."
His gaze moves back to the stretching streets and alleys before them, eyes cast once again towards the ground.
"You would feel the same if you knew what I'd wrought."

"The state of your soul is not a thing a care to ponder. In any case, let's not let him get too far ahead. "
He adjusts his backpack and starts after Ardoc, calling back to Alexite.
"Besides, an alkaline persona such are yourself might find a kindred spirit in his vapid companion. Come, the smoggy plumes of the business district await us!"

Randovich watches them depart, his gaze following the golem until its heavy footfalls take it out of sight. Considering the man's words, he turns back to his companions.
"His family? Should we go and see what he needs?"
His gaze quickly passes over the Iomedites and falls to Alexite.
"Surely the man with a walking pile of iron in tow would prove a more interesting prospect than a collection of dogmatic priests."

Randovich's face becomes visibly flushed as he turns to Alexite.
"It may be great fun for you to marginalize and ridicule my people, but should you not be licking a devil's boots?"

"I...er..."
Randovich glances back at the others, not sure what to say.

Randovich stumbles back several steps, falling into a defensive stance as his eyes flash and twinkling motes of light surround him.
Randovich has cast mage armor on himself, granting him +4 AC for 1 hour/
"Is... is this a normal occurrence in the city?"

Ouch, sorry to hear about that, but I feel you brother! (I am in fact quite drunk as I type this, in light of the anniversary of the end of my first love). In any case, I really hope things work out for you.

As they make their way through the streets of Kaer Maga, Randovich's head is constantly swinging back and forth, his eyes wide and a mixture of awe and anxiety painted on his youthful face. Every sight, sound, and smell seems a wonder to him, and he appears to be having some trouble digesting it all. The tightly packed clusters of apartments in the wall seem especially unnerving to him.
"I've never seen this kind of squalor. How can people live like this - so tightly packed together?"

Randovich makes his way slowly down the stairs, still frazzled but looking a bit cleaner. He seems to be carrying everything he came in with, his bulging backpack clinging tightly to his form, and his walking stick clicking loudly on the floor as he makes his way to Torald and Esfana. For several seconds he simply stands silently, as if waiting for direction from another.
"Which way to the temple?"

Randovich finishes off his stew and turns to his three pious dining companions.
"What kind of aid can we expect your church to request? I've heard little of Iomedae beyond stories of her clergy's crusades. Is it likely to be dangerous?"

Randovich looks up at priest.
"I'll make myself available. It sounds like this Lavel fellow and I might be able to help each other."

I just realized that I hadn't selected my character's traits, but if the APG isn't being used, where are these being drawn from?

Randovich looks to the Varisian woman for a moment, but shyly casts his eyes back to his stew, his spoon directing what is left of it in a slow and lazy spiral.

In Varisian:

Alright, how about we call it the Keldrash caravan. They have a particular affinity for the evening sky and they're elders are practiced astrologers. They're quick to read omens and portents in whatever they see. They're noted for their skill at animal husbandry, and many are accomplished storytellers.

Celina, yes, Randovich would be wearing his family scarf, but I'm afraid I'm not very familiar with the Varisian families - the campaign book seems to only make a brief mention of the Scarzni. Where could I find such information?

Randovich offers a derisive snort in spite of morose fashion and mutters to the air. "Perhaps I should not be so eager to offer ale to strangers. A pint in their blood, and they play as much boor as the rapscallions they look down upon."
His eyes turn up to Teris and he gestures to a seat.
"By all means be seated, my good "slip." Though leave your sympathies at the door. It seems that in this establishment, to mock the downtrodden is the proper form."

Randovich looks away and slouches as he finishes off his stew, saying nothing more on the topic.

He shakes his head. "Whatever the source of these abilities, I don't want them. I need to find someone who can excise them from me."

The young Varisian gives a nod and a shrug - all in all a rather clumsy gesture.
"I'm not from the Szcarni, by yes, we had a few people with such abilities, but their magic only happened when they beckoned it forth. Besides, I've never had such skills before. Three days ago, things just started happening."
He regards the glowing coin for a moment.
"You seem to have a firm grasp on your own abilities."

All of the lights flash bright red for a moment before vanishing. Randovich looks up, a hint of fear showing in his eyes.
That's not normal! I could never do anything like that before! And that's not all I've done. I can do things that... well, that hurt people."
He trails off and looks back down to the table.

He frowns as he looks to Esfana
"Are such hardships common? I've not been out of the caravan long, but the world off the road so far seems a bleak place. Whatever circumstances brought you to this juncture, I hope you are able to transcend them. I offer my condolences, for what they're worth. As for own problems, I've done... strange things."
Randovich cups his hands before him and a quartet of colorful glowing globes appear above them, swirling about each other and sending out soft pulses of vibrant colors as their light dances across the table.

Randovich finally sits with a deep sigh and indulges himself in his stew for several moments before offering a response. He looks up slightly, but his gaze never rises to eye-level, and tangled strands of black hair partialy obscure his boyish face.
"I'm Randovich. I've... I've been traveling for a few days, seeking, um... help."
He looks around nervously before continuing.
"I'm worried I carry a curse in me, or a strange power. Whatever it is, it's not something I want, and I need to find someone who can rid me of it."

He offers a hasty nod in thanks to the barmaid, then collects his stew and ale before making his way to the table were everyone seems to be congregating. He simply stands behind a chair for several moments, eyes trained keenly on his feet, then finally looks up, holding out his glass.
"A mug of ale for the privelage to join you?"

Randovich looks over his coins and immediately decides he can afford 3 pieces of silver. He places three coins onto the counter.

The young Varisian seems to shrink into himself as he moves across the room towards the bar counter. He works very hard not to meet anyone's gaze, even staring down at the counter as he addresses one of the barmaids in what is little more than a whisper.

"How much is it for a room?"

Randovich looks nervously at the inn. He's not too fond of crowds these days, but he's also hungry, and the prospect of a real bed is more than he can pass u. Very familiar with pickpockets and having heard legends of the scruples in cities such as this, he cluthes his coin purse tightly and steps inside.

Nice! I think I'll follow suit, especialy since the picture I've chosen only vaguely resembles the character I've envisioned.

Randovich is a handsome Varisian youth, his soft features making it apparent that he is not past 16 years old. His skin is the typical ruddy olive complexion of his Varisian kin, and rich black hair curtains down to his mid-neck. His eyes were formerly a deep mahogany in color, but with his sorcerous talent emerging, they have become a brilliant sapphire hue that is nearly unheard of in his people, though he is not yet aware of this change.

Currently, he is visibly dishelved. His hair is tussled and unwashed and a sparse stubble clings to his cheeks. His clothes show several minor tears and are in need of a good washing, though they're still far from ruined. His walk is a resigned one. He tends to hang his head and not look others in the eye, his slouched posture presenting the air of an individual that is less than sure of themselves.

Randovich takes a moment to look up at the monolithic walls of the city. They dwarf anything he has yet seen in his life, and the awe which they inspire cause him to forget for a moment the dirt clinging to his clothing and the sharp hunger gripping his belly. It is only a moment though. He kisses the tips of his fingers and touches them to the vibrant green scarf he wears about his neck - a color of wisdom and discipline to his people. Then, he draws his cloak tightly about himself and approaches the gate.

Randovich is up and ready, all information is in his profile.
What would be the best way to introduce him in the IC thread?