Akorius Thrune's page

About Akorius Thrune

Appearance: Though not elderly, Akor is often referred to as "that old man". His hair is close-cropped and gray, with roughly shaven gray facial hair. Scars adorn his body, and not in a masculine macho way--they make him ugly. Though he bathes as regularly as he can (old habits die hard), he still looks like he's been living in the forest for years (because he has). He has a prominent nose and strong chin, and may have been handsome in his youth, but now his eyes are sunken and dark, weary and drained.

Akorius Thrune
Akorius Thrune

Attitude: Akor tries to keep emotional distance between himself and others. Conversations tend to be short and to the point, no nonsense. Despite all of the pain he seems to carry, he walks with some stubborn sense of pride that hasn't died. He doesn't back down from anyone, enjoying the occasional beating from lost fights as part of his atonement. Every wound from battles, every bruise from brawls is just a drop of atonement in an ocean of sins, and he relishes in every suffering he endures. He often stares off into space, watches the campfire for hours without saying a word, paces impatiently, or just slumps a bit and closes his eyes, seeming to sleep.

Background: Akorius Thrune, born in the heart of Egorian, heart of the Chelish nation, born to noble parents with slaves tending to his every whim. Although 'spoiled' would be an understatement, that's not to say Akorius's childhood was easy. His parents allowed no time for play or friends, discipline was harsh, and his studies gruelling. To carry the name of Thrune by itself placed heavy expectations on his shoulders, but his parents heaped on even more, trying to mold him into someone who could elevate their clan to higher status within House Thrune. Their particular clan held respect through a long tradition of arranging bloodsports for the rest of the nobility, picking the best fighters from the impovershed and offering them lavish rewards for success, inspiring and bribing them. It's rumored they often took gladiators for lovers, to 'inspire' them further. Successful fighters were allowed to live on their estate, and were treated almost as family, all for the purpose of imbuing fierce loyalty and motivation into the fighters.

As Akorius grew, his studies of politics and the history of Egorian grew as well. No expense was spared on the child. When one of his tutors let slip disdain for the practice of legal bribery within Egorian, young Akorius reported him to the Inquisitors, the country's iron-masked secret police. The tutor was never seen again, and the Inquisitors' (normally) dreaded gaze turned to Akorius and his ecstatic parents. They were offered a contract: in exchange for temporary ownership of Akorius, they would instruct him and train him. His parents agreed, signed, and sent Akorius off with the Inquisitors.

For all of Akorius' teen years, he lived in the secret training catacombs of the Chelish Inquisitors, underneath a Church of Asmodeus. Talking to other students was strictly forbidden, and the lessons were harsh. Harsher still because Akorius was struggling in his academics. Each failure brought lashing and isolation. He grew to hate the Inquisitors, believing that none of them were so pure and lawful to have the right to punish him. He was of House Thrune! Ego and entitlement were bred and raised into him. As the years went on, Akorius spent more and more energy investigating each instructor, and less on his studies, avoiding punishment by cleverly cheating on academic tests. One night he followed the head instructor, suspicious. It was risky, but he knew a loophole in Chelish law that allowed him immunity if he were able to prove the instructor's guilt. Akorius found the crowds in the busy Egorian streets easy to mold and sway, moving among them and joining a group's conversation whenever the ever-wary Inquisitor looked over his shoulder. What Akorius discovered was far beyond what he could have hoped for--the Inquisitor was part of a rebel organization, and he had unwittingly led Akorius to their secret headquarters. Running straight to the nearest Hellknight, he revealed the treason with righteous indignation, tears of fury in his young eyes.

When the dust settled, Akorius learned that the Hellknight he had spoken to was Lictor Toulon Vidoc, leader of the Order of the Scourge. The Lictor's influence made Akorius a full Inquisitor overnight, donning his own black robe and iron mask.

From then on, Akorius Thrune was passionately devoted to uncovering corruption and treason anywhere it festered. Every little bit of praise and commendation increased his fervor. For almost fifteen years he was a relentless Inquisitor, interrogating suspects without them even realizing they were being interrogated, charming families into inviting him in so he can secretly gather evidence, seducing wives and daughters, and working mobs into a frenzy when the need arose. His family rode the wave, becoming highly respected and richer still. Akorius, though he hated his family for awhile, came to love them, bonding deeply with his mother, father, and two brothers.

Traitors he captured were often brought to a Church of Asmodeus for horrific sacrifice. At times, Akorius skinned them himself before placing their squirming exposed bodies onto the sacrificial altars. His ruthless devotion to Hellish order was noticed by Most High Aspexia Rugatonn, the Grand High Priestess of Asmodeus, who offered a deal to him: if he signed a contract to serve her first, and the Inquisition second, she would bind a Brachina to be his personal slave and assistant, aiding his pursuit of the guilty and tending to his every whim. Akorius signed gladly, eager for not only the practical support of a Devil, but the social status it would grant. Secretly, he had always been fascinated by the seductresses of Hell, curiosity and lust having been built up since he first saw a painted depiction in a Church of Asmodeus. He didn't know it, but the Grand Priestess saw straight through him and knew all about his dark fantasies, offering him a Brachina for that very reason--to test his will. If he fell prey to her seduction, he was not worthy of attention, but if he resisted...she may have great plans for him.

His new 'servant' had plans for him as well. They laid together the very same night he signed the contract, both believing they had conquered the other. The Brachina, named Tisiphone, through a series of complicated contracts, still served the Grand High Priestess and was to report to her if Akorius' will failed, but through fine-print so loved by denizens of Hell, she kept their relations secret. 'Tisi', as Akorius called her, had her own secret game: to bend one of the arrogant Chelaxian to her will. As they rooted out corruption and rebellion, their relationship was a constant power-struggle. Akorius knew just what buttons to press to make Tisi feel like she 'won' by bedding him, but the Brachina took great joy in making him jump through hoops for her touch. Years passed, and one morning Akorius woke to find a crying, bloody, newborn laying on a pile of blood-soaked blankets. The vibrant purple of the child's eyes told Akorius what he already knew: it was Tisi's. A Tiefling. Loathed in Cheliax because they were a product of a Chelaxian's failure to control a Devil, giving in to their will. He realized then that he had grown to love Tisi, and now she was gone, her conquest complete.

Akorius Thrune kept his Tiefling daughter secret, binding an imp to help take care of her while he resumed work with the Inquisition. The Grand High Priestess questioned where his Brachina servant was, and he almost broke down on the spot--Tisi hadn't told her anything. Whatever that meant, Akorius clung to the hope that maybe she actually loved him too. He quickly made up a story about banishing Tisi because she was no longer useful to him. As his secrets and deceptions piled up, he became a nervous wreck, constantly paranoid of being investigated himself.

He named his daughter Lucia, but she would never bear the Thrune surname. A tiefling in the family would be a constant reminder of his 'failure' in the eyes of the nobles. He couldn't even tell his parents they had a grandchild. As the years passed, Akorius's nerves settled, and he grew accustomed to the routine of guarding his secrets closely while he worked as an Inquisitor, then coming home to spoil Lucia with gifts. She particularly loved a fine purple scarf he bought her when she was a baby, chosen to match her eyes, and never gave it up even when she outgrew it. Her room was filled with dolls, clothes, and other finery that nobility and status allowed Akorius to afford. The imp Akorius had bound as her 'nanny' obeyed him with fierce devotion, taking good care of Lucia while he was away. The relationship between father and daughter grew from quiet detachment to a very close bond. He taught her the value of order and rules, being completely honest with her at all times. Often this lead to the child crying or not understanding, but as time went on Akorius took heart in the respect he saw in her vibrant purple eyes, a constant reminder of Tisi.

One day, the Inquisitors, in their all-too-familiar iron masks, kicked in Akorius' door. He commanded the imp to take Lucia into the other room and demanded answers from the Inquisitors. Two restrained Akorius while the rest began to search his home. The squeal of the imp being slain was followed by Lucia being dragged out, tears in her vibrant purple eyes. He tried to remain calm, calling on a law that assures he has a right to know what he or his family is being charged with. The Inquisitor started laughing, cruelly, gloating in that Akorius admitted Lucia was his daughter by invoking the statute, before explaining that Akorius had broken the contract his parents had signed when he was first accepted into the Inquisition, decades ago. There was a fine-print condition that said just as Akorius was granted from his parents, so would he grant his children to the Inquisition if they so wished. Outraged and confused, Akorius pulled a curved dagger from an Inquisitor's belt and slew the two holding him. The Inquisitors shackled him and put a black bag over his head, whisking him away as he had done to so many. He could hear Lucia crying, and told her it would be okay, over and over.

When the hood was removed, Akorius saw the Grand High Priestess behind a sacrificial altar, as he had seen her so many times before. Next to her was the Inquisitor he thought long dead, the one he turned in for treason when he was but a child. The priestess told him the Inquisitor's treason was all a ruse to shape and mold Akorius, bestowing in him his loathing towards injustice and corruption, an outlet for his frustrations in academic training. The priestess had been molding and shaping him ever since he first drew attention by reporting his old tutor. Once he had become a successful Inquisitor, the next step was to test his will in control of Devils, which he failed. She admitted that she hadn't known about the child for many years, and it was then that Tisiphone walked out, smiling cruelly and seductively at Akorius. Tisi had betrayed him, after all that time, yet all he could think about was how much he missed her. She seemed to know it, teasing him that if he was truly dedicated, they could be together again, forever. He stared into her vibrant purple eyes, then he signed the contract. It was then that Akorius' family came out, forming a circle around him and the sacrificial altar, smiling with pride, as Tisi began kneeling before him in submission. She whispered for him to close his eyes, her voice sinking deep into his mind, past all the walls of secrecy and self-control. His family and the priestess applauded around the Hellish altar, making him open his eyes. Tisi was gone, yet he could still hear her whispering, comforting him, congratulating him. His brief moment of happiness sunk into dread when he heard a faint cry he knew too well. Lucia. A cleric of Asmodeus carried her over his shoulder, her tiny wrists bound in black-iron shackles, her favorite little purple scarf soaked with tears. His heart jumped into his throat and he strained against his own shackles. The Grand High Priestess Aspexia held the contract loosely in her pale fingers, blood-red nails tapping on the parchment.

Akorius only has vague memories of what transpired, which he tries desperately to forget. His hands moved on their own, while he screamed and cried in anguish within his mind, Tisi shushing and comforting him, as he took the blade to his Lucia. He remembers all the proud, ecstatic faces around him, smiling and applauding, welcoming him, as control seeped back into his limbs and he dropped the blood-soaked ritual skinning knife. Friends, family, his parents, his mentors, all hugged him, bowed their heads to him. Akorius picked up the blood-spattered scarf, purple like Lucia's eyes, and gripped it so tightly his bones cracked. He remembers only his mother's expression of surprise and disappointment when he threw off the Grand High Priestess' embrace and stumbled out of the Church of Asmodeus. He remembers seeing the common people of Egorian scramble out of his way, the merciless Inquisitor, as he trudged towards the city gate. He remembers wandering northward until dawn began to break, just as he came upon a sheer drop to jagged rocks below. Clutching Lucia's scarf to his chin, he stepped off the edge.

Laying amongst those broken rocks, his blood covering them, he closed his eyes and waited to die. He woke with the sun glaring down at him, his lips cracked and bloody, pain through his entire broken body. Akorius saw the treetops swaying back and forth like cobras, twisting and warping as dehydration and blood loss set in. Tisi's soft, warm voice comforted him, telling him it would all be over soon and they would be together. It took several delirious moments for him to realize it wasn't Tisi speaking to him anymore, it was another voice, deeper, stronger, more melodic. The sun warped and twisted into the shape of a woman, her brightness making his eyes water and dim. The voice offered a quick death, not the days of dehydration while scavengers picked at him. He begged for it, at first, then in despair changed his mind. His pain and sadness turned to self-loathing, all the suffering he had inflicted on others--on Lucia--he deserved his fate. The voice then offered a different choice: a lifetime of atonement to despair in his guilt, or that quick, merciful, death. A favor he didn't feel he deserved. Dying now would be selfish after all he had done, he needed to spend every breath til his last in atonement.

When he woke, he could barely sit up. So many broken bones and infected wounds, he was so thirsty though. Crawling to the nearby riverbank and drinking greedily, Akorius tried to make sense of his visions. Were they hallucenations? He listened for the melodic voice, or even Tisiphone's seductive purr, but he was alone. So begun his pilgrimage. Akorius roamed aimlessly away from Egorian, away from his 'family', away from his past, but never able to escape the memories that plagued him. The first village he came upon had a small temple, just a house really. The furnature had been replaced with altars and pews. Akorius went in to add to the donation box, when he saw a brightly-painted mural of Sarenrae above her altar. He recognized the Goddess from what he thought had been hallucinations and immediately fell to his knees, staring up at the mural in shock, feeling as dizzy as when he first woke broken upon the rocks. His head spun, and he collapsed. He hadn't eaten in weeks, and was sufferring from exposure, wandering and sleeping in the open. The priest tended to him and taught him about Sarenrae, the Goddess of redemption. In between his lectures he began to hear Tisi again, whispering seductions in his ear, mocking the priest, mocking Akorius' 'redemption'.

So he kept wandering, just following his feet. When he came upon travelers beset by bandits or monsters, he stepped in, fighting brutally with no regard for his own safety, before continuing on his way, ignoring cries of gratitude or offers of reward. Cold and cynical, detached. The only glimmer of the man that used to be was in the tiny purple scarf he kept tied around his wrist.