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==========Fallen From Grace==========

Alexius Vashnarstill is a relatively unimportant younger cousin of house Vashnarstill. Born and raised in Kintargo, he was destined to join the military and fulfill his noble family’s obligation to provide knights to the queen a certain number of months each year. Like all noble sons, he was trained in scholarly topics as well as martial arts, military strategy and so on. The boy was particularly adept at dueling with falcata and buckler in the manner of the Taldans and quickly found himself a rising star in the regions dueling circles. He attended – and won – many dueling tournaments, rubbing shoulders with prominent military leaders and royalty. It was just after one such tournament when the fates changed for Alexius. Returning to the family estate alone after taking first place, Alexius was set upon by three assassins, likely hired by a rival duelist from another noble family. Alexius was able to fight off, but not kill, the assassins, but not before receiving a grievous leg wound. The blade the assassin used must have been cursed, for despite having the wound healed with divine magic, not leaving so much as a scar behind, the young duelist was left with a prominent limp. Not even eighteen months at a healing monastery atop the Kullan Dei mountains in Tian Xia helped.

Alexius’ military future was over before it had begun. Everything he had been training for was gone. His mother was not too displeased that her son would not be going off to war, but Alexius was. His attitude quickly turned dour and he turned to drink to ease his emotional and physical pain. He had no interest in following his family members into politics or business and spent the nights drinking and womanizing and the days sleeping. At least now he had something in common with the head of the household, Sendi. His family could only bear his loud, drunken rants for so long and they eventually built a small, single room cottage in a secluded corner of their property for him. His affinity for corvidae led to the family calling the cottage the Rookery'. The increased privacy seemed to suit him, and he spent years partying the nights away.

The closest thing to friends Alexius could be said to have were other bored young noble men and women. They would gather to discuss banned topics and consume forbidden literature, always talking of how much better they could run the city if they were in charge. None of them meant any of it. Those spoiled nobles would be the last to do anything to jeopardize their lives of luxury and excess. While the higher ranking nobility certainly did not approve of these secret meetings (that everyone in the city knew about) there was nothing the royal family could do to stop them without angering many of the noble families that the crown needed to maintain control of the city and the region.

Reason to Protest: Protest the Government! The hellish, Orwellian (he exists, right?), soul-crushing curfew placed by the new regime has destroyed Alexius’ social life. While he never drank tea before or after sunset, no one tells him what he can drink or when.

Alexius Vashnarstill is a young chelaxian noble and he looks the part, his preferred outfit tending to draw the eye - an exotic costume he picked up on one of his oversea trips in his youth. He is tall and slender with trimmed brown hair and sideburns, brown eyes, and usually more than a couple days stubble. He wears black, fitted silk trousers and shirt, black calfskin gloves, a red velvet waistcoat, a high collared black longcoat and a tall top hat. The unusually tall hat and long, narrow coat exaggerate his height and slims his figure, lending him a somewhat unnatural look. He walks with a prominent limp and utilizes a fashionable cane, the silver head styled to look like a ravens beak. He is loud, brash, and selfish, with little patience for anyone but himself. Most nights he can be found closing bars or in bed with some lesser noble’s wife or daughter. He shows no drive or desire to accomplish anything with his life or improve himself in any way.

==========Hatchlings==========

Like all children, especially the children of the affluent, Alexius always sought to rebel against his parents and society in general. He never felt much of an attachment to the other noble children and would oft ditch his chauffeurs to go exploring the city on his own, a brief respite against the boredom of endless classes on royal lineage and naval tactics. Already familiar with the high-walled gardens, well-kept estates, and fancy shops of the upper district, he began to roam further afield, to the lower districts his family rarely visited. One day, around the age of eight, he found himself in the Devil's Nursery: the slums on the southeastern corner of Kintargo where the tieflings and other undesirables resided.

Initially, young Alexius was attracted by the colorful scales and horns the tieflings sported, though in the Nursery he was the one that stood out in his fine clothing. Most of the adults gave him a wide berth, not wanting to get tangled up in noble business. The noble child found himself drawn to a group of tiefling children dressed particularly flamboyantly, outfits fashioned after the dress of pirates and swashbucklers. Or at least what pirates and swashbucklers dress like in the minds of children. On first approach, the children lead Alexius into an dilapidated alley. They were intent on robbing the young noble, but the boy - years into his battlefield training at this point - recognized the oncoming ambush and, using a combination of his training and sheer size, managed to outwit and outfight the urchins.

Alexius was intrigued by the lifestyle of the tiefling gang. He was aware that people often resorted to robbery to sustain themselves, but had never known any such persons in his personal life. It sounded more interesting than classes on heraldic banners. Alexius joined the gang, who called themselves the Hatchlings, and entered into their informal tutelage. The lives of the Hatchlings was the opposite of his own life of privilege. They were concerned with where their next meal was coming from, rather than grand political schemes. General Steelbeard taught Alexius to face opponents as equals on the open field or in the arena, to use falcata and buckler to cut down threats to the crown. The Hatchlings taught him that a well placed kick from the shadows will down an unsuspecting opponent with ease. Alexius' mother, Lady Elaida Vashnarstill, taught him of logistics and trade routes. The Hatchlings taught him to disable wagons in claustrophobic alleys, making them ripe for plundering. Sir Hawthorne taught Alexius to be chivalrous and honorable. The Hatchlings taught him to pick pockets and cut purses. Instead of marching forth, heraldry held high, the Hatchlings kept to the rooftops, their cloven hooves adepts at climbing the imperfect walls. Of course, Alexius engaged in larceny and burglary for the thrill of it, while the Hatchlings stole to survive.

Despite the seemingly duplicitous nature of the tiefling gang, over the years Alexius found them to be better friends than the lords and ladies of the courts and far more honorable than most 'honest' businessmen. Beyond the Hatchlings, the denizens of the slums seemed to genuinely care for each other, where his peers in the upper city only cared about what one could do for them. He grew particularly close to an aiuvarin tiefling girl a bit younger than himself, Mythryssia Valxses. Mythryssia was feisty and temperamental, the opposite of the lordly gentleman Alexius was supposed to embody. As the years went by, fondness turned to youthful romance. Alexius only once mentioned 'rescuing' the proud tiefling girl from poverty. Such talked turned out to be a huge mistake, as Mythryssia aggressively did not need anyone to save her, and it took some time for the young man to get back on her good side, the gift of a simple but fine silver pendant of a raven helping him win her back over.

Mythryssia played the helpless waif well, easily able to fool marks into looking left while the Hatchlings went right. She was in fact a naturally gifted actress and singer. Skilled enough that joining the opera was not an unrealistic aspiration, barring systemic racism against tieflings. She got some local attention performing in small, no-budget plays, but there was no future for her in Cheliax, which she and Alexius could both see. After many tears and arguments, Mythryssia finally accepted Alexius' offer to help, specifically to find her a patron - likely in Absalom - that could grant the aspiring actress access to the schools and opportunities she needed to have a chance at success without the oppression tieflings faced most anywhere else. Correspondence with various artist-promoting houses in Absalom went well, until Alexius - then seventeen years old - finally received a response from one lady Hightower, who was interested enough to want to meet Mythryssia and had extended an eager invitation for the girl to visit her in Absalom.

The letter had been delivered to him on the Vashnarstill estate. Reading it filled him equally with melancholy and hope. Alexius' place was in Kintargo. As much as the idea of sending her away hurt him, he wanted Mythryssia to be happy, safe, and free more than he wanted her for himself. With trembling hands, he stowed the letter safely in an inset coat pocket and left the manor. He did not travel straight to the Nursery, his route instead plodding and winding this way and that throughout the city as he wandered almost aimlessly, trying to forestall the inevitable delivery of the letter that would take Mythryssia. He finally passed into the oddly comforting walls of the Devil's Nursery as the sun began to set, the city walls casting the entire place in shadow. None of the usual suspects had seen Mythryssia for a few hours, and she was not at her home with her parents. It was not unusual for the children of the Nursery, especially the Hatchlings, to disappear for hours or even a few days as they pursued their own goals, so Alexius was not overly worried. But as darkness fell and the night drew on, his worry grew, some unexplained voice whispering in the back of his mind that something was wrong. Increasingly panicked, he roused the Hatchlings that he could find, much to their collective annoyance, to help him search for her. They looked through the night with no luck.

As dawn was breaking over the city, a scream from one of the Hatchlings marked the end of their search. Behind rotted crates in a dead end alley, they found Mythryssia. Brutally murdered, her only substantial possession, the silver raven pendant, gone.

Nobody cared about one more dead tiefling. Even Alexius' mother, sympathetic - heartbroken for her son, even - though she was, was firmly dutybound to the family, and had never approved of his infatuation with the distracting tieflings. Despite his position of nobility, no amount of rage or bribery could convince local law enforcement or government to investigate, and his assertions that he suspected the murderer to be a hellknight were openly ignored. The nobility simply clucked their tongues and encouraged him to turn his focus back to his military studies where it belonged which, seemingly, Alexius eventually did.

Alexius had grown up in two worlds. He did not enjoy his destiny as a warrior and diplomat, but the privilege was nice and he was good at it. His escapades with the Hatchlings were fun, but were not building up to anything meaningful. With the loss of Mythryssia, the needs of the Vashnarstills and the Crown didn't seem to matter anymore.

Alexius Vashnarstill is dead.

==========The Raven==========

The Raven stood on the city wall south of the Devil’s Nursery, gazing into the slums below him. He was an intimidating figure: steel breastplate over thick, knee length gambeson; sturdy knee-high leather boots and matching leather gauntlets; a ragged, hooded cloak that almost touched the ground and concealed his head. But that was not why they called him the Raven. A macabre steel mask shaped like a raven’s beak protruded from the hood and obscured his face. Large, flat glass eyes granting vision while protecting the face from harmful vapors or liquids. A hulking, brutal pugilist, blood dripping from the spikes of his black gauntlets. A Hellknight lay groaning and bleeding on the walkway behind the parapet on which the imposing figure stood. The Thrune dog rolled onto her back, the pool of blood rapidly spreading beneath her. ”You can’t just… let me die.” she gurgles, coughing up blood.

The Raven turns his head to look from the slums to the dying soldier. ”I can’t?” he asks in a thick elven accent. He turns and drops to the walkway, squatting next to the woman, bringing up a gauntleted hand to tap the side of the beak covering his face. ”They say this is worn by doctors in some places. Doctors! I do consider myself a doctor…” He says, his voice casual and unconcerned. A dagger, the handle of which was intricately carved to resemble a large black feather, protruded from the woman’s stomach. The Raven grasped the dagger and pulled it free of the woman’s flesh and armor, increasing her blood loss and hastening her death. ”But not that kind of doctor.” He hisses as he lowers his beaked face near to the woman’s ear, his voice trembling with rage and hate. ”You pay for your crimes against that poor tiefling with your life.” The woman’s eyes flash with confusion – no doubt she could not differentiate one tiefling she had brutalized from another – and then the light goes out of her eyes as the life leaves her body.

Suddenly overcome with weariness, he sits back on the parapet, dangling his legs over the slums, and sighs, rubbing his face through the steel mask he wore. How long can I keep doing this? What is it going to change. His actions had had effects on the new Thrune regime, but it was too little. Too slow. The impoverished people of Kintargo were little more than slaves, and that isn’t even to mention the literal slaves. He was only one man. He stands, glancing back at the woman for a final time to ensure she was dead. ”I need some friends. A lot of friends.”

Level 1 (Avenger Vigilante) - FCB: +1 SP; Feat: Noble Scion: Vashnarstill; Human Feat: Weapon Focus (Close); Social Talent: Social Grace (Diplomacy)
Level 2 (Vigilante): FCB: +1 SP; Vigilante Talent: Lethal Grace
Level 3 (Vigilante): FCB: +1 SP; Social Talent: Safe House; Feat: Shield Gauntlet Style.
Level 4 (Vigilante): FCB: +1 SP; Vigilante Talent: Fist of the Avenger
Level 5 (Vigilante): FCB: +1 SP; Social Grace (Bluff); Social Talent: Renown; Feat: Shielded Gauntlet Attack.
Level 6 (Vigilante): FCB: +1 SP; Vigilante Talent: Signature Weapon. (Retrain Weapon Focus to Two-Weapon Fighting)
Level 7 (Vigilante): FCB: +1 SP; Social Talent: Great Renown.; Feat: Shielded Gauntlet Master.
Level 8 (Vigilante): FCB: +1 SP; Vigilante Talent: Steel Soldier.
Level 9 (Vigilante): FCB: +1 SP; Social Grace: TBD; Social Talent: TBD; Feat: Improved Two-Weapon Fighting.
Level 10 (Vigilante): FCB: +1 SP; Vigilante Talent: Armor Skin.