Mikhail Nietzschvon

Cloaked in Gray, this Russian human can be found where ever Evil lurks

Description:

AC 20 Fort 15 Ref 20 Will 16 Str 15 Con 13 Dex 18 Int 10 Wis 13 Cha 2 HP 40

Wears either a light gray Coat with a hood, or Dark gray leather armor, cape, and a hooded cowl.

Bio:

<russian>

I’ll never forget that night…sigh. I suppose you would like to know. Well I will tell you what I can… it must have been some thirty years ago, and I was no older than four years old. So you must forgive me if some of what I am about to tell you is… well a little foggy.

We, my father and I, were heading home from the market square. From what I remember of him he was a very kind man with many worries. He was a strong working man, I can still remember how agile and strong he was, and my mother was small but quick as a viper. She’d always catch me trying to pretend to be my father and give me such a tongue lashing for it. But you are not here to hear about the people who conceived me and raised me for such a short time. I know your really here to hear about her, I can read it on your face, so let me oblige your curiosity.

My contact with her was but a few short years, and it all started that very night. By the time my father and I made it home the place was already nothing but ashes. In its place strung up was what was left of my mother; around her neck hung a sign that read “Outsiders Beware”.

If you haven’t noticed yet I’m not your normal human. You see my family is originally from the mountains, it snows almost constantly, and the people there warm themselves with a strong clear liquor foreign to these regions. We’re not exactly what you would call “welcome” in most lands. But enough of that gross injustice.

By the time my father managed to get his wife off of the post the sun was setting and the only light in our part of the slum was the reddish glow of our pile of ashes. I was crying by now and begging others for help. But they all flinched and pushed me away at my tears. I felt strong arms pick me up, my first instinct was to grab back and hold my father close but when I looked up it was a burly human and in his face I could see disgust he held for me. I yelled for my father but my out burst was cut short by this man’s strong hand against my throat.

I’m not entirely sure if it was the sudden fear or the lack of oxygen that blacked my out but the next thing I remember is the sight of some fifty or more men, not only human but eladrin as well. Most of them were standing over the burning corpse of my father. While the same man held a short sword to my face. He was muttering something about carving the symbol of the true maker on my face before he killed me. That’s when I shut my eyes to the pain as the cold steel bit into my face.

Suddenly I felt the pressure of the blade disappear, I waited for its presence to appear once again upon my flesh but it never did. When I finally opened my eyes the man lay dead next to me and the other men were scattering in all directions. As the hot blood ran across my left eye, I saw her, Varain Cawdorai. She turned and picked me up and we fled that night leaving those wretches behind.

Perhaps she was unaware of my outsider origins, or perhaps she did not care, but she brought me into her den and there I would spend the next several years under the guardian ship of many different crafters, artisans and dagger masters. I’m not entirely sure why she chose to save me, perhaps it was the mark I bear, or perhaps she could not stand for the injustice she saw before her. Either way I stand before you now because of her, thus I dedicate my life to vanquishing evil. screams in back ground “oh the night is still young. Please excuse me my friend that is all I can share for now, the night calls out.”

Mikhail Nietzschvon

Once upon a time in Tyrn Alaster