Bastian Kray's page

The beginnings of Bastians life were at once a special, yet all too common story, depending on who one asked. Born of adultery, Bastian had the good fortune to be the son of his fathers favored concubine. Wanting nothing to do with the boy and the scandal any acknowledgment would bring about, his father none the less saw to the boys care. Anything to continue his current arrangements with his mistress.

Thus, Bastian was given over to the family's servants to care for. Early life was hard on the boy, none of his many parents being the kind to care for him more than was required of them. With everyone acting distant and detached, it did not take long before the young Bastian began looking for ways to feel involved in the lives of those around him, to feel some sort of connection. He would sneak around the estate, listen in on hushed conversations of gossip and secrets. From there, he soon graduated to blackmailing the other servants, mostly harmless but embarrassing secrets, kept in exchange for candy and the odd silver coin.

As Bastian neared his teens, the servants became increasingly annoyed with him, his constant snooping, rumormongering and generally invasive presence causing many a complaint to his father. Having himself noticed the boys penchant for lurking within earshot of his own conversations and wanting his household to run smoothly, his father arranged for Bastians apprenticeship to the house arcanist. The intense study and wary eye of his new tutor was sure to keep Bastians curiosity sated, and more importantly, keep him out of his fathers business.

The house arcanist, a middle aged Witch by the name of Elanor, quickly became more family to Bastian than any he had ever had. At first he continued with his usual habits, attempting to spy on his new mentor and those who came to her for arcane assistance. But Elanor was herself a sly individual, quickly catching on to what the boy was doing. When she confronted him about his actions, he was surprised to learn she admired his skill at the craft of deception, but that he was still but a novice. Elanor was herself devious, dealing in secrets and lies just as he had, although much more proficiently. Although he never confessed as much, in Elanor, Bastian finally had a mother.

Years passed, Bastian honing his skills at subterfuge and the arcane arts, becoming a shrewd Wizard. As Elanor had taught him, whether casting a spell or twisting a mind, knowledge was power, and Bastian greedily devoured every scrap of arcane trivia, every morsel of incriminating gossip. By his 20th year, he was fast approaching the end of his apprenticeship. With his obvious talent and Elanors recommendation, he would have little trouble finding employ amongst the nobility. For a time, Bastian was sated, content with the future he had in store.

That was to change when, whilst chasing a lead on potentially powerful secrets about the house he had grown up in, Bastian stumbled upon his biological mother. At first unaware of who he was dealing with, he soon had leverage to force her to tell him her secret, to reveal to him the juicy information that could assure him future favors from the head of his childhood household. Quickly realizing that he himself was the scandalous bastard, he left his birth mother none the wiser, heading straight to his fathers estate in a moment of fool hearty confidence.

Confronting his father with what he had learned, he soon realized that none of his knowledge mattered. Even though he now knew, none of his information, none of the informants that had lead to the discovery, none of them were credible as leverage. It was all a trail of breadcrumbs, too convoluted to ever stand as evidence of his family connection and the opportunities it entailed. Being escorted off his fathers estate, he realized he had blown his chance, played his hand too soon. Even if the evidence was out there, now that he knew, his father would surely put in motion a campaign to destroy it all.

But though the prospect of a noble title was now lost to him, the spark of desire for such a thing had been lit. He didn't need blood ties or birth rights! He would make a noble of himself!

However, his hometown was no longer a place for him to do his seedy work, every notable informant or connection now lost to him through the machinations of his fathers henchmen. Returning to Elanor, he informed her he would be leaving, his apprenticeship over. Seeing the determination in the young mans eyes, Elanor gifted him with trade secrets, connections in neighboring towns he could use to get started. With possibly the only true show of affection he had ever managed, he hugged his mentor, his surrogate mother, thanked her for everything, and left.

Now on the road, with no ties to his old home, save Elanor, Bastian chose a last name for himself, he had always liked the name Kray, the last name of a merchant which had passed through town regularly and been kind to Bastian. He certainly couldnt, or wouldnt, use his actual family name.

Years passed, Bastians campaign for nobility moving forward slowly, setbacks and great fortune coming his way to varying degrees, but the overall objective steadily drawing nearer. With every bit of leverage gained, every passing encounter of extortion and crushing ultimatums, Bastian grew colder, crueler, every act spurring him ever onwards towards his goals. The young man that had left his hometown now almost a decade ago had been indifferent, yielding, and willing to compromise, let his victims off easy as long as he got what he wanted. But as he neared his 30th birthday, his drive and lust for power had wiped away any compassion and understanding he might have once had. Slowly but surely, with every passing plot, every poor soul condemned by his schemes, it had eroded away until there was nothing left but ambition. That very same ambition however, would prove his downfall.

*Specifics of Extortion crime to come, probably something related to the church*

Bastian is cold and calculating, his pursuit of his goals all that has meaning to him. Family, friends, and other things most would deem necessities and facts of life, were known to him, but rarely felt growing up. It is little wonder then that years of trampling these same virtues in his pursuits have made the concepts alien to him emotionally. As practical tools to further his agenda however, he is proficient in their application, seeming compassionate, friendly and understanding as the situation calls for it. The only genuine feelings he displays, are those of respect and appreciation for the way in which his allies play their part. Allies that have proven themselves are what qualifies as a friend in Bastians vocabulary, although the word is hardly used correctly. Should the situation call for it, he has no qualms about leaving such "friends" to their fate if he himself escapes notice in the process.

While success garners his respect, he has very little patience for those he deems mentally inferior to himself. When such individuals invariably find themselves under his heel, he takes particular delight in inflicting whatever fate his schemes cause upon them. Such situations remind him why he is deserving of the power he is working towards. However, it is a hollow joy to ensnare those of lesser intellect. Their inability to offer him a challenge, the trap too easily sprung makes the victory hollow. Outside of physical luxury, seeing hard work come to fruition is one of the few mental pleasures afforded him.

Placing such stock in an elusive objective has made carnal pastimes a prominent feature of his physical indulgences. Fine wining and dining, baths, massages and fine clothes. All these pleasures are secondary to the pursuit of a woman. The combined pleasures of the mind and the flesh that such endeavors promise, are one of the few things that can distract him from his ultimate goal. In this regard, no regular woman will do, and more often than not, the targets of his affections have been nobles, women not easily impressed. He lies, cheats, uses them and moves on once success has been achieved. While he appreciates a womans beauty, once he succeeds in bedding her, he quickly loses interest.

Religion means little to Bastian. He acknowledges the power of the gods, and the usefulness of those who wield it, but has no patience for the fervor of those same individuals. Indeed, a man with Bastians background would have likely latched onto religion, had he had even a small bit of reverence for the divine powers. Had anyone cared to teach him devotion at an early age, he might well have become a Cleric instead.

Bastians has little regards for the schools of Enchantment and Necromancy. He sees enchanters as amateurs, using spells to compensate for their lack of social prowess. A true professional bends others to his will with the right words and application of leverage. Magic in this regard should at best be complementary, not the sole means to ones goal. He shuns necromancy, not because of the implied evils of its use, but because he finds the practice distasteful. Corpses should be left to rot, not paraded around as henchmen, and suboptimal henchmen at that. What good is a thrall that cannot properly understand and act upon commands more complex than "Attack"? That is not to say Bastian doesn't see the value in working with necromancers, as long as he doesn't have to interact with their minions.

Bastians relationship with his Familiar Gregor, is one of master and servant. To him, Gregor is a simple tool in his arsenal. The tiny birds ability to spy where he himself cannot easily go, has often been crucial in obtaining needed information. Through the use of Message spells, Gregor dictates to his master what his targets discuss in perceived privacy. There is however a professional respect between the two, Elanors teachings on the subject having ensured that Gregor gets treated as an individual in his own right. At times, Bastian has even acted on advice from his diminutive partner. Gregor is likely the only person Bastian would think twice about leaving behind to save himself.

You see a tall man garbed in simple yet extravagant clothes. The colors muted, patterns used sparingly, what truly marks it as refined, are the tiny gemstones woven into the fabric, and the unmistakable sheen of pure silks. Despite looking rather plain, his bearing hints at a supreme confidence in himself.

The only thing marking him as more than simply another nobleman, is the many component pouches at his waist, and the small exotic bird perched on his shoulder.

*More to come*