About Felrin VennaxOni-spawn tiefling inquisitor of Asmodeus 6
Background:
Nearly a century ago, Felrin Vennax was born in Ghastenhall, into a family of craftsmen renowned for the quality and reliability of the clocks they made. While the Vennax family certainly valued the beauty of what they created, they placed far greater significance on what the clocks stood for: order, precision, predictability and, of course, punctuality. They expected things to happen on a schedule, and at their proper time, and by the age of 15 or so, it was clear that Felrin was not following a normal schedule. He had always been a bit…different, as a boy, unlike his younger brother, Symon. The two brothers were as unlike as could be, Symon small and charming where Felrin was awkward both physically and socially. In spite of their differences, the two were very close, and Symon did what he could to help Felrin overcome his challenges. Felrin struggled to fit in to the ordered structure of his household and society at large, leaving his loving parents to hope he would outgrow his social awkwardness, even surliness at times. But a greater trouble arose - as his classmates and sibling grew and came to be young men and women, Felrin seemed to be lagging behind, as if under some spell, or as if he were one of the longer-lived races, an elf or some such. His parents, being devout worshippers of Mitra as well as believers in the proper, natural order of things, were quite distressed by this. They took the boy to priests and wizards, hoping to understand their son’s ‘condition’, and ‘cure’ him. It soon became clear that the boy was not under a curse or a spell, but no one could provide an answer to why he did not appear to be growing and aging like a normal child. One day, however, when Felrin was in his 18th year, a senior priest of Mitra came to visit the Vennax household and speak to Felrin’s parents. Felrin had always been a curious, even sneaky, child, and knew where he could hide undetected and hear everything said in his father’s sitting room. He felt the priest had almost certainly come to discuss Felrin’s ‘condition’ and made sure to eavesdrop, and what he heard changed his life. The Mitran priest said that he and other learned priests had discussed Felrin at great length, and had come to the unfortunate conclusion that he was some sort of devil-spawn. The priest had come to collect the boy, and bring him to the temple for study and perhaps exorcism, or worse, if that failed. Felrin heard only the very first words of his father’s protests, for he knew the Mitrans would have their way in the end. The boy fled his home that moment, leaving the world he knew behind and knowing he’d likely never see his parents or beloved brother again, and fled the city by nightfall. Since then, Felrin has wandered from city to city in Talingarde. He stays for ten years or so in each place, finding work as a valued assistant in the best clockworks in each city, for he learned a great deal in his own family’s workshops before leaving home, and he has a natural mechanical talent and understanding of the inner workings of things. After a decade in one place, though, it begins to become clear to those around him that he is not aging, and questions begin to arise. Felrin learned painfully that he needs to leave where he is before that time – after 12 years in Daveryn, where he felt relatively comfortable and settled, he had to kill a man to protect his secret. Soon after that, he began to develop strange powers, including the ability to see in the dark and transform himself into other creatures, which have helped him keep his true nature a secret and move on. He knew from this that the Mitran priest was right, and that he was likely the spawn of some hell. Felrin has continued to live in this way for decades, roaming from place to place in a very slow rotation, his resentment towards the upright Mitrans growing with the years. At first, he wished only to be left alone, to do his work and not be forced to move on every time he has established a life for himself somewhere. But when he finally summoned up the courage to return to Ghastenhall, more than 20 years after fleeing the place, he learned that his parents had been arrested, tried and executed for consorting with devils – simply because they were his parents. All he could learn of his brother was that he had vanished. This enraged and saddened him, and he now dreams of fighting back against the rigid righteousness of Talingarde and its people. He yearns for some way to strike a blow against Mitra and her followers, who cost him his family and have caused him to live as a lonely vagabond for all these years, for no reason other than who he is. At present, this yearning consists of little more than fervent prayers for the fall of Mitra and Talingarde. Felrin does not know if his prayers are heard, or by whom, but he has begun to feel a presence of some kind when he utters them, and this has kindled his devotion. He has heard whispers of a dark god, but a just one, called Asmodeus, the Prince of Hell, and offers him an exchange in his prayers: keep him safe from discovery for as long as possible, and in return Felrin will offer whatever services the Dark Prince might ask of him. His worship is a lonely one, but one he feels all the more strongly as a result, and that strength sustains him in his wanderings. Felrin’s travels have provided him with ample opportunity to study the people around him, and he has used the years well in this regard. Just like the clocks that fascinate him so, people have things that drive them. Felrin studies people, their motivations and habits, their desires and fears, and uses this knowledge to safeguard himself, and to imagine ways that Talingarde might be brought down. Among other things, he has found that humans have short memories, and that he can return to a city after he has not been there for 20 or 30 years without stirring up questions. But he has no idea how long he might live, and wonders how long his 80-year-old game of hide-and-seek will go on. Unfortunately, the question of how long he will live has been taken out of his hands. After a few years in Matharyn, where Felrin was working in the venerable Glossen family’s clockworks, where he had once been employed nearly forty years earlier, a terrible disaster struck – he fell in love. Tisa, sweet Tisa, was a ward of the Glossen’s, and just a few years younger than Felrin appeared to be. She was free-spirited where Felrin is cautious, irreverent where Felrin is watchful, yet somehow she cared for him. They spent nearly all their free time together, they had spoken of their love, even of a family, and he had almost come to believe it possible. He should have known that it could never come to pass, and that he was lingering in one place longer than was safe, that he would be discovered if he didn’t move on – but he could not bring himself to leave this first, heady taste of love. The elderly patriarch of the family, who had been Felrin’s employer long ago and who scarcely ever came to the shop, saw Felrin one day and recognized him. The old man’s puzzlement about Felrin’s age could have been explained away as senility, but he called in two younger relatives, who had known Felrin when they were children and had not recognized him. All agreed this was the man they once knew, untouched by age. They peppered him with questions, and Felrin grew evasive and gruff with them. They refused to let him leave the workshop and, though Felrin is a big man, they managed to tackle him while the old man called for the guard. Felrin was desperate not to be caught, not to lose his chance to battle against Mitra and Talingarde, not to be taken from his love, and not to lose the damned, lifelong game of cat-and-mouse because an old man thought things were not as they should be. Felrin seized a dagger from the belt of one of his assailants and killed him, and then his younger cousin. He then fled out the front door, but in the wealthier districts of Matharyn, the watch is never far away. Felrin ran into the street, battered from the fight, a bloody dagger in his hand and two bodies in the workshop behind him, with no explanation for his actions. In spite of his dire straits, the visceral thrill of killing his assailants, of striking a blow of some kind against the holy Mitran order, filled him with a joyous satisfaction unlike anything he had known. Sadly, before he could savor this feeling, a squad of guardsmen arrived and promptly clubbed him into unconsciousness, and he woke up in a cell in Branderscar Prison. Appearance:
Felrin looks human enough to a casual observer. His pale skin, shoulder-length black hair, and blue-green eyes are an unusual combination, but not unearthly. He is tall and broad-shouldered, yet slender – but not so slender as to appear alien. Looking closely, though, one begins to note differences about him. He has very large hands, marred in places by odd, bony protrusions. He often wears gloves to cover them, but this is impractical when he’s working on clocks or other delicate work. Felrin has similar bony bumps on his feet and lower legs, usually hidden by a pair of stout boots. Surprisingly, his large hands are very skilled at fine work, and often appear to move of their own accord, the fingertips rolling across each other as if adjusting a minute screw or coiling a tiny spring. A close look at Felrin, or a glimpse of him without a shirt on, tells an odder tale. He has a series of faint bony ridges down his back, four bumpy, uneven lines running roughly parallel. These odd growths, the ridges, knobs and spurs that mark the taint in his blood, first appeared when he was a young man. In the beginning, the bone trails on his back were only two thin marks, two little cicatrices of bone between his shoulder blades. But these ridges have slowly grown over the years, getting longer and wider, and becoming gradually more knobby and bony. What little Felrin has been able to learn of the hells suggest to him that these markings mean he is Oni-blooded, but this tells him little, for the Oni are essentially shapeless, taking on whatever form whim drives them to. Thus, though Felrin wonders what form he will ultimately grow to have, he can only wait and see. But he has lately felt a tingling, as of new bone growth, in his arms and shoulders. Judgments:
Destruction: +3 damage Healing: fast healing 3 Justice: +2 on attack rolls Piercing: +3 concentration and vs SR Protection: +2 AC Purity: +2 saves Resiliency: DR 2/magic Resistance: 6 vs one energy type Smiting: weapons count as magic, evil vs DR Useful Pastes and Links:
[dice=Claw Attack]1d20+13[/dice] [dice=Claw Damage]1d4+7[/dice] [dice=Claw Attack, PA]1d20+13-2[/dice]
[dice=Claw Attack, alter self]1d20+14[/dice]
[dice=Bite Attack, alter self]1d20+12[/dice]
[dice=Claw Attack, alter self, PA]1d20+14-2[/dice]
[dice=Bite Attack, alter self, PA]1d20+12-2[/dice]
Polymorph Rules
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