Marvin was born, over a century ago, as a singular, special child. He bore a keen interest in rules, honor, and justice, inspired by the shining example of a mysterious, absent father he had only met once. Marvin excelled at his studies, as well as fencing, penmanship, and other physical tasks he could best through skill over strength.
Over the decades, he traveled from place to place, building careers as a merchant, jeweler, tinker, but eventually settling into a legal career, where he gained renown as a skilled and eternally enthusiastic barrister and man of letters. He also fostered a bit of a magic hobby—although never combat trained, he learned how to amuse at parties with light spells and deliver small curses to former friends he caught cheating at cards.
Justice is justice — and if Marvin learned one thing over his extraordinarily long life, it was that the world was cruel, and justice had to be as well. By aasimar standards, he had never started out as a kind or caring man, despite his best efforts to uphold and prosecute the law; by his second century, he was vindictive and unyielding even by the lower standards of human morality, putting away criminals with an unusual level of relish and often smiling quite a bit during sentencings.
And eventually, one final injustice dawned on him: that, though its progress was slow, he was nevertheless aging, and would, in only a handful of decades, wither into a worthless old man and die. But Marvin knew he deserved to find a way to live, and so he pored over the most esoteric texts he could get his hands on, corresponding with diabolists and the more erudite sort of necromancer.
Eventually, Marvin attempted a summoning, hoping to bring forth an outsider he could convince to grant him extra years of youth in exchange for… something. Instead, he brought himself somewhere else.
But rules are rules, and Marvin found a way to adapt quickly to his new home in the City of Sigil. The City of Doors has always had need for the sort of expert who can draw up a detailed, clever contract quickly, without flinching at the terrifying creature commissioning the work or feeling pity for the party on the other end of the bargain. And so he soon found himself working for Hell, first as a notary and then as an enforcer, willing to accept any ethical quandaries necessary to strike a carefully-crafted, intelligent blow at the forces of Chaos.
