Arko Caed's page

Arko was born in Galt on the dawn of the first day of Erastus, 4625 AR. Only mere moments later he was joined by his fraternal twin brother. The parents of these two children were wealthy merchants(Surname:Caedel) in Galt and already well on their way to their twilight years, a fact that made the birth widely considered a miracle and the children were treated as such. Arko(Born Arkoden) and brother Zalastus both firmly had silver spoons in their respective mouths, as it were. Zalastus grew into a dangerously ambitious and charismatic teen, and Arko by contrast, was frail and withdrawn, always seemingly hiding himself away or staring off into empty space, eyes wide as though he was seeing things that no one else could. Additionally he seemed to be developing physically much slower than his twin. The house servants often bloody bandages and white feathers around the Estate, and a few of the more superstitious left for fear of the unknown. These details were overlooked however by the children's aging parents.

Zalastus was well on his way to learning the family trade, having assumed many of the responsibilities that his father was once responsible for by the time he had reached the age of fifteen. There were whispers that the younger twin had dealings with devils or with devil-binders of Chelish, but still yet, the Caedel estate continued to be a spout from which trade flowed uninhibited.

Arkoden's only respite was a fledgling faith in Erastil. While his more boisterous brother demanded the lion's share of attention, Arkoden had found he had a plethora of time to turn his thoughts to the introspective and existential, and found some level of comfort in Old Deadeye's teachings and in the draw and snap of the Longbow. He showcased a talent for the bow from an early age, despite his frailties, and often spent time with Erastil's clergy. This time was spent developing his insight and his skills as an archer and Fletcher.

Soon his condition became impossible to hide. Arko had been causing himself great pain to hide the feathers that grew from his spine, ritualistically plucking the unwanted growth every night. It was an unfortunate exercise in futility however. When he would wake the next morn, it was as though three feathers had grown where one had been. Once puberty arrived for the child (around 15, he was a late bloomer) , the feathers grew into a solid coat, covering his entire body from head to toe in angelic white . His eyes grew wide and dark, distinctly avian, and his ears elongated and protruded towards the sky.

Fearfully he made himself known to his parents and brother, unsure of what else he could do, he was prepared for the worst. Instead, his parents rejoiced. They had always suspected something miraculous about their conception of the children despite their advanced age, and they took Arkoden as physical proof that it was indeed a miracle. Suddenly the young heaven-touched child found himself showered with gifts from his parents, locals, and even the Clergymen and women of Erastil.

Arkoden wasn't accustomed to such attention but he was a good sport and did what he could to oblige the people. He knew he was no God, he had no mystical abilities, and he was quick to assert that fact to anyone who made their misconceptions known. Zalastus however did not deal with his brother's coming out as well. He was overcome with jealousy over the fact that despite sharing the same womb, his brother had received this gift from the Gods, but he had not. Now forced to play second fiddle, the power hungry young man pulled out all of the stops. Their father died in his sleep, seemingly of natural causes. Arkoden would never find out for certain that it was in fact his brother who had ordered the poisoning. With the old man out of the way, and a venerable mother reserved to bed rest, Arkoden was all that stood in the way. Zalastus contacted slave-brokers under the employ of House Thrune in Cheliax, he had been diverting funds from the family's coffers and had such made quite a few friends in the Empire of Devils. He knew that an aasimar slave would fetch a good price, and so set into motion his plan of removing Arkoden from the equation.

Arkoden found himself shackled, gagged, and blindfolded and sent off to Cheliax. The next twenty-five years were the longest of his life. He was subject to torture and degradation as various nobles and would-be devil-binders owned the man and forced him to take part in unspeakable acts in addition to the atrocities of every-day life as an enslaved man. The only thing that kept him going was a longing for vengeance against his traitorous brother. Unbeknownst to him, this was an unattainable goal. Around three years after his brother's actions sent Arko to the slave-pens. The Caedel estate was torn down by revolutionaries who recognized the Merchant house as "Chelish Sympathizers", The last living patron of which, Zalastus Caedel met his end with his head in a guillotine(Poetic justice!) in 4641 AR.

The years of slavery hardened the feathered youth. He lived a life that he expected, not feared, to end any day. Egorian was a city in flux when he arrived, and House Thrune seemed determined to dye the streets blood-red with human sacrifice. Arko was put to work under a cruel diaboloist master. The devilish man took pleasure in having a servant of such obvious celestial origins. As an assistant to the priest of Asmodeus, the young slave held down countless prisoners of all ages. He heard their pleadings, and saw the look on the damned faces moments before his master's blade plunged into their chest, year after year. He came to recognize the honesty that was undeniable about a person's last moments. One is truest to theimselves when they know that life is o'er.

C H E L I A X

Despite Arko's calm and cold exterior that developed, Caed took no pleasure in the death he saw and participated in. Caed himself was close to death at all times and so was true to his self at all times. He eschewed the words of Old Deadeye he had learned in Galt. Their was no community or good here, for that matter it was never really there in Galt! Bad things seemed to happen whether you were good or bad yourself. Despite the proclamations that he had came from the heavens as his feathers suggested, it was painfully clear that there was nothing above looking out for him. He was responsible for his own well-being, and he would survive. He contemplated these things in his time in private, and seemed to escape into a meditation like state. He carried out his duties with stoic determination. He'd do what he had to do to get by, and he would bide his time.

He did still hold merit towards the bow, and at every opportunity he would put his bowyer skills to the test, crafting a bow out of gathered materials. He practiced form and aim when possible with his makeshift weapon. Amazingly he didn't get caught. To this day Arko can't decide if it was because of his stealth, or some misplaced gift from his master for a favored servant.

Never the less, the years rolled on and his master grew in years and his slave grew in wisdom. Arko was now in his prime, and the man who restricted his freedom was ravaged by the years. The time now at hand, the prisoner made his way out in the night with his makeshift bow. It was target practice, almost like the countless other nights. Only this time he slipped into his master's chambers, and shot an arrow into his heart while he was sleeping. The next morning Arko was gone and the priest dead, an arrow with bright white fletching in his chest .

M A G N I M A R

Arko escaped the devil bound nation and lived nomadically, etching out a living across Avistan as a traveling bowyer by day and a fledgling hit-man by night. There wasn't a job too vile for him, and he quickly became something of a consummate professional. It wasn't long before the Aspis Consortium had taken notice, and when the traveling bowman entered into Magnimar, their paths aligned. Arko spent some time in the city, as he found plenty of work. Drug deals gone wrong, cheating husbands, political pressure and noble greed, all of these things created a perfect storm for his line of work. He soon found himself wealthy but he was eternally curious about the hand that feeds. Little did he know, he had been dealing with Aspis agents and associates. Eventually he was brought into the fold, figuring he was savvy enough to eventually figure out who was pulling the strings, but useful enough to keep alive, it was the beginning of an ambitious career.