Dressed in tattered furs hung casually over a suit of polished scale mail armor, the young man answering to the name Athyris Credo stands confident with a determined look firmly imprinted on his face. His appearance is seemingly rugged, and one could quickly assume that he is either a guardsman or blade for hire – though his eyes radiate with a color green seemingly out of place – giving him more character than one often sees in such professions. His dark hair is worn long, and his short, bushy beard sprouts from sideburn to sideburn. A Morningstar of decent quality hangs from his belt, though he feels much more at ease when it rests upon his right shoulder.
Most of his days have been spent within Magnimar's walls, where he grew up with a loving mother, father and younger brother. Though the two brothers have not always seen eye to eye, as Magnus showed great divine prowess at an astonishingly young age, the two would often enjoy each other’s company at their father's study – discussing everything from politics to the arcane or divine. Alas, a few years ago Magnus had made some poor choices in his life and ended up indebted to the Sczarni, and suddenly disappeared.
Athyris suffered much from the loss of his brother - and even more so, when the city guard dismissed his plea to investigate the matter - stating that they could not invade Sczarni territory on 'a whim'. Disheartened though still determined to find and rescue his brother, Athyris employed a small group of mercenaries with the coin he inherited from his parents.
Weeks passed and no word from the sellswords reached him. Perhaps they had taken the coin and left the city, or perhaps they had been slain – Athyris did not know. All he knew was that he would wait no longer; he cried to the heavens and begged for his deity to hear his plea. "Why had the Sczarni not ransomed his brother back to him – why had his body not been found, if they had murdered him?" Too many questions and too few answers, Athyris would sit idle no longer. If Aroden would not hear his plea, if his gold was worthless in the hands of others – and if the guards would not have faith in his words – he would find his brother himself.
The next day, the young Vasirian man spent the little coin he had left on adventuring equipment, a Morningstar and a suit of Scale Mail and enlisted with the Pathfinder Society. Perhaps working with them would both teach him the ways of the warrior and give him the opportunity so sorely needed, to find his lost brother. A man of knowledge rather than combat, now forced to forge his destiny in battle - gave one last look upon his father's library before he turned and left his home, and past, behind.
