Denaro of Azlant's page

Denaro is a tall olive skinned man with high eyebrows and deep violet eyes that seem to pierce into the soul. He wears a fine green shirt open midway to reveal a broad and muscled chest. His preferred wear and demeanor suggest one who has an expensive taste in food and clothes yet the calloused hands and scuffed and muddied traveling boots tell the tale of a person much accustomed to hard work and long roads. He exudes an aura of boundless energy and insatiable curiosity from a deep and perhaps bottomless well of knowledge.

Denaro is a man driven by purpose. Indeed, according to him, purpose is the drive that forges ahead, creates, destroys, or continues on unto eternity. Purpose is power and those without it that choose to live rudderless lives are either powerless, oppressed, or lying to themselves. Things that no one should have to experience. For now his purpose is to find the missing pieces of his memory to find the all important connecting chains that give him a rough timeline and solve the mystery of exactly who he is and how he ended up here. He abhors lies and manipulation but is not opposed to their use should the outcome work out for the betterment of all involved a choice made when he took on the alias of Denaro so that Aroden's enemies would take longer to track him before he could regain his lost memories and power. Denaro is amiable and hungry for knowledge at most times showing far greater patience than many in his place would as if all of eternity is ahead of him and perhaps it is. Yet he is never comfortable merely sitting still. Always reading, always building, always writing, Denaro would much rather use his time toward something rather than waste it on sedentary activity. He is comfortable in positions of leadership but never puts himself forward to take it if more able or willing parties are interested.

Denaro believes his real name may be Aroden and he hails from Azlant on the Arcadian continent on the planet Golarion upon the material plane.

Denaro remembers much about his past life but only in the sense of a shattered mirrored. Millions of reflections, places, names, battles, victories, defeats, places and things so fantastical and alien as he can't decide whether it's real or a dream or something in between. In one memory he is bowing before a bejeweled emperor presenting him the finest sword in the empire, in another he driving the same sword deep into the heart of a dragon, in still yet another he stands atop a pile of dead and broken demons with an even finer jeweled sword in hand, and on and on and on. One of the first things he did when he awoke on Kisarta is he wrote in a journal a list of every category of things he could remember in the hopes of building connections between them. He remembered having nearly a dozen good friends, several lovers, many children and even grandchildren whose names he could not remember, when he got to a list of enemies he gave up as it would take up too many pages. His clearest memories, and the ones that leave him with the greatest sense of peace are days spent at the forge. Though he realized quickly that what he saw as a forge was nothing like the hot dirty places as other blacksmiths. His people created heat without fire, though they were more than capable of working metal and more exotic materials into fine weapons without any heat, many of which he realized he had created himself. Skills he realized he still had even as his mind already went over the steps to turn a piece of star metal into a heavy cleaving blade suitable for felling trees or disassembling golems. He knows only three things as matter of fact, his name, that he is definitively human, and that he was alive for a long long time longer than the empire and longer than the darkness that followed.

The memory that truly disturbs him is the one that repeats itself in all his dreams. He was seeking the source of the ancient darkness that brought ruin to his empire. Deep in the blackness of the sea he found the stone that was brought down from the dark tapestry nearly an age ago. He found that not only did it still exist, but that it contained within a mighty power that the veiled masters that he called enemy could not have comprehended. In the blackness of those depths he laid his hands upon that glowing stone and laughed. He laughed in the face of extinction as he held the would be apocalypse in his hands and drank in it's power. His consciousness expanded, his every muscle tightened and exalted in the mythical power radiating from the stone, as he rose it above his head towards the heavens beyond the dark abyss around him he felt himself rise as by will alone he lifted himself and the land all around. At it's height just as the stone was about to kiss the rays of the sun for the first time since earthfall did his dream and memory cut short. Was it too much? Did his arrogance obliterate not only his body but any hope he had of a real afterlife in the Great Beyond? He felt such answers were far too easy. His only choice now is to find out everything he could about this Aroden from the few people from his home that also came here a truly daunting task, but one he is unafraid to take on as he had done countless times before. And should he find new purpose here in this bizarre land all the better.