Dragos Mirceanu's page

Isabella and Dragos Mirceanu used to be somewhat renowned in Kaer Maga, although "infamous" would have been a better word. Despite a youth of seventeen, the twins, raised and shaped by the chaotic streets, had already made themselves a reputation as enforcers, mercenaries and thieves, factotums of the city's seedy underbelly. He was strong like an oxen, and an adept practitioner of gratuitous violence, she was quicker than a fox and deadlier than a viper. There was no job too disreputable for them to take, or so they were thinking when the cowled man came to offer them a job.
Stealing the artifact from the Pharasmins had not been exceedingly difficult, through a combination of blackmail, threats and, on one occasion, a knife between the ribs. Nor had smuggling it from Kaer Maga to the Ustalavian border. But the employer had no intention of either paying or letting them leave, and ambushed that. Dragos and Isabella, of course, had hidden the artifact before going to the exchange, not trusting him. "Lay a hand on us" taunted the girl, while a handful of hooded figures held her down, "and you will never know where the skein is!"
Those were her last words in life. The cowled man slit her throat and let her slump on the ground, while Dragos was bound and gagged, screaming in anguish as his sister's life blood spilled over the dark grass. And his horror redoubled when the cowled man cast a complex, ritualistic spell on the corpse, and Isabella's voice told them where the artifact had been hidden. Finally, to her brother's deepest horror, she rose back to her feet, her eyes lifeless but her body animated by darkest magic.
After some of his flunkies had taken off to retrieve the precious skein, the cowled man likely thought it would have been enjoyable to watch Dragos get killed by his sister's body, and directed the undead to strangle him. That was when the arrow struck from westward. It embedded deep in the cowled man's chest, who looked in shock in that direction, towards Lastwall. And the first rays of the morning sun reflecting on shining silver armors was all that he saw before losing consciousness.

Dragos woke up in Vigil, in the infirmary of the Knights of Ozem, without his weapons and armor. From his account, uncommonly honest due to his deep pain, they linked the cowled man to a cabal of necromancers known as the Whispering Way, their sworn enemies. And although Dragos had unwittingly helped them, they followe Iomedae's teaching to temper justice with mercy, and offered him a recruit's place and a chance at vengeance if he agreed to repent for his crimes, walking the path of redemption.
There was nothing to do for him but accept, and yet the path was more arduous than imagined. Without his sister, he only felt as half a man, and discipline was a foreign concept to him. Sir Rainier, the paladin who was assigned with training him, found Dragos' attitude exhasperating, but kept trying his best to teach him of altruism, sacrifice and generosity, yet the boy just thought of it as foolishness. Why give help to those too weak to get what they need, he thought. Nobody had helped them in the streets of Kaer Maga.

After a month, Dragos slipped away from Vigil, disguised as a merchant, heading home. In his pack were a sword and a shield stolen from the Knights, food and money. But as he traversed Belkzen, he came across an aging man attacked by three orcs, bandits by the looks of it. Trapped in an overturned coach, the man was holding a girl Dragos' age with his left arm, and although magic fire was dancing on his other hand, he looked tired, wounded and outmatched.
Maybe the girl reminded him of Isabella, or maybe Sir Rainier's lessons had penetrated deeper than he expected, but in his first selfless act, rather than slipping to safety, he charged the orcs screaming like a madman. Two of them met their end on the stolen sword, while the wizard incinerated the third. Something changed in him that day, the first time he had saved a life for no selfish reason, and he thought that he had seen a woman in a red cape and silver armor somewhere in the distance. After escorting a grateful Petros Lorrimor and his daughter Kendra back to Vigil, Dragos apologized to Rainier and asked for another chance, which the moustached paladin was just glad to give. And if the work was even harder than before, in time he changed into a devout servant of Iomedae, fierce in his hatred of the Way, although he remained more ruthless in combat than the noble knights were comfortable with, and in eight years' time, when the news of Lorrimor's demise reached him, he was being considered for proper knighthood. Yet he took a leave of absence to pay his respects to the man who had turned his life around.

Dragos's skin tone and dark beard identify him as Vasirian by birth, a look he enforces by wearing a kapenia under his armor. His eyes are black as well, and usually dart away from eye contact, heavy because of a past regret. He's wearing metal armor fit for a knight, and carrying several weapons, most prominently a long sword with sunrays on the hilt and a shield with the Knights of Ozem insignia. A sword and a shield are also marked on his palms with magic, symbols of his affiliation to Vigil, Iomedae and the Shiny Crusade.

Dragos is generally quiet and morose when not in combat; he was never good with personal contact and he has difficulties opening up. In battle he turns into a fierce bastion, standing in front of his allies to take the blows for her, determined to never again see someone he loves bleed to death on the grass. He fiercely hates necromancers, but the undead are his greatest fears since the night he saw Isabella being turned into one. The idea of becoming one of those mindless horrors terrifies him.

He has already had dealings with the Whispering Way, so this is personal for him. Other than taking general revenge on the Way, he also wants to retrieve the artifact that he and Isabella stole from the church of Pharasma.

Goal: To take righteous revenge on the Whispering Way.
Reputation: He's probably remembered by some in Kaer Maga, and he's known as a good if violent recruit of the Knights of Ozem.
Friend: Sir Rainier, his moustachioed mentor, is the closest thing he has to a friend since the death of Isabella.
Home: Castle Overwatch has been his home for the last eight years.
Signature Item: His sword has sun rays surrounding the hilt, in the fashion of Iomedae's symbol.
Problem: He feels guilty for his sister's death and helping the necromancers steal a Pharasman relic.
Secret: Only a few high-ranking Knights know of his past as a mercenary, thief and killer.
Reason to be Brave: Proving to himself and his goddess that he has embraced the path of righteousness and will not return to his violent past.

Shield Mastery feats could be nice.