Khorsen’s Backstory 5E D&D Backstory

Khorsen always resented that his mother was taken from him early. It wasn’t fair, why did she have to leave so soon? Why? He loved her dearly and the loss impacted him more than he was willing to admit. His life changed irrevocably after the fire. Before the fire he always had a shining beacon to turn to, a positive influence in his life, a shelter from the constant scorn he received for his horns and tail. It all changed on that horrible night.

That night was forever branded into his mind. He couldn’t escape it for the longest time. Every nightmare, each time he woke up crying, screaming, or terrified it was always the same. Him being held back as he tried to fight his way to the burning inn. The horrible screams, searing his mind. He replayed that night in his mind every day for the first few years. He couldn’t escape it, and truth be told he didn’t want to. If he didn’t remember her who would? They were nothing but poor tieflings trying to make a living in this world. They only had each other, and now she was gone. Who would he turn to now? He found his answer years later when he was adopted by a vassal from “The Sovereign Host.”

The clerical lifestyle seemed like an ill fit for a troublemaking tiefling but in reality it was the best years of his life. He would spend countless hours researching and studying from the ancient unkempt books. He resided in the vaults below the church where he kept to his studies. Religion wasn’t the most important thing in his life, rather the knowledge and intriguing subjects he was able to study, including the arcane arts. 

In his new home he never felt powerless, it was refreshing. His nightmares became less frequent as time wore on until they eventually stopped all together. He was comfortable with the vassals and he couldn’t recall a time he had been happier. People overlooked his horns, his tail, they saw him for the person he truly was and it had never felt better.

All dreams come to an end and Khorsen’s was no exception. One fateful day as he was returning from a weekly visit to the town he heard screams in the distance along with an orange blaze over the treetops. His heart pounded, his knees grew weak, he broke into a sweat. Immediately he broke into a dead sprint, as he rounded the bend he was welcomed to a familiar sight.

The fire was all he had eyes for, even as the bandits looted and pillaged the one place he was finally able to call “Home.” His stomach dropped, his legs moved almost mechanically as he started the trek to the central chapel, fearing what he would find. He was assaulted with the stench of roasting meat as the doors swung in. The gruesome sight he was greeted by will forever haunt him to this day.

At this point, Khorsen’s vision faded to black before a brilliant light blinded him for a moment. He heard screams in the distance, the heat was intense, every breath painful. He blinked several times to clear his vision, revealing a lone figure standing in the center of a circle of fire with a piece of thick parchment.

“I have an offer for you. Who I am is not important, what is important is your vengeance. It’s much too late for the monks, however, it’s not too late for you to avenge them. All you need is a little help, which I can provide. It’s simple, I do you a favor you do me one. There’s a certain.. Artifact I desire. I’m in no hurry for it, but I want it in my possession before your death. If you’re able to provide me with this, I’ll release you from the contract. If you fail, you will serve me on my plane of existence until I deem you’ve repaid me. The choice is yours.” The being lifted the parchment up a little higher, waiting for Khorsen’s answer. A long moment passed before he strode up to the being, reaching for the contract as he neared him. 

Khorsen slowly became aware of his surroundings once again, only a few moments having passed. His body was on fire, his left hand burned brightly as he screamed out, falling to his knees, his very blood feeling as if it was liquid fire.This went on for a few moments before he was able to breathe again, the transformation done. 

His vengeance was swift. This also marked the last day Khorsen was truly afraid of fire. 

The fire changed him, his very aura beguiling even the stingiest of merchants from their hard earned gold in investments. The fiend gave him power, but also gave him the tools he needed to manipulate others. Khorsen’s not always skilled with his newfound powers, but somehow he manages to bumble his way along.

Khorsen goes by a new name most days. All of his targets knew him by Harkonnen Rybnik, the noble tiefling. His new identity came to him almost naturally after a few weeks in the city familiarizing himself with it. He knew what he liked and how to get it. More often than not he relied on the tools of his trade like his trusty disguise kit or forgery kit if he needed a particularly convincing document. He preyed on the nobility and made his living off their “hard earned” gold. 

“It’s funny. My mother’s life ended in fire, mine began with it.” – Khorsen Rahl

Background: I make a living influencing others. Manipulation comes easy to me and always has. I always have a new bauble to sell or dice to cheat. (Charlatan) 

Personality Traits: My friends are the most important thing for me. I'll help them no matter the cost.

Orphans have always been a bit of a soft spot for me. I know what it was like for them, I can't help but feel some compassion for them. 

Ideals: Material goods come and go. Bonds of friendship last forever.

 I never target people who can’t afford to lose a few coins.

Bonds:  After the destruction of the monastery I knew as home I worked tirelessly to renovate it and bring it back to its previous glory. Over the years I've managed to bring it back from the verge of destruction. 

Follower of Deneir (The deity the monastery worshipped.)

(http://forgottenrealms.wikia.com/wiki/Deneir)

Flaws: I believe knowledge is exceedingly valuable, to the point I might risk a little too much for a lost bit of knowledge, especially about lost magical artifacts.

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