Deity worshipped: Rutilor
You were born on the 1st day of the 4th month of Shorka the Cobra in the year of the Crystal Snow Hare, 300 years after the victory of Lanival the Redeemer.
You are Authoritarian Smozhstalker Dipsh, Crusader of Therengia, a S'Kra Mur. You have a flat-featured face with a flexible ridged crest which follows the shape of your skull with frown lines around his mouth, slitted twitching eyes, one grey and one milky blue and a flat snout, mottled scales with a pale silver underbelly, a kinked tail and a wiry build. You are tall for a S'Kra Mur. You are archaic.
You are wearing a deep black steel-visored helm embossed with a golden rising sun, a jadeite gwethdesuan, a pair of tarnished spectacles, a serpentine cambrinth earcuff carved in the shape of an adder, a heretic's cloak lined with stormy grey velvet, a stiff burnt-sienna cassock clasped at the shoulder with a Holy Inquisition pin, a pilgrim's badge, a wiirwood brooch inlaid with tsavorites in the pattern of the outline of Therengia, a rusty steel pin stamped with "Forsaken Savior", an anloral mongoose pin, a bronze lockpick case, a gold lion's head pin with a soulstone clasped in the jaw, a lumpy bundle, a sturdy black backpack, a black tabard embroidered with an Inquisitorial emblem, some field plate armor, a cambrinth armband curled into the shape of a sleek mongoose, a gleaming steel Grey Raven guard's shield, some articulated steel gauntlets adorned with golden spiked knuckles, an albredine crystal ring, a platinum ring engraved with the Estate Holder's crest, a cambrinth ring, a heretic's sword belt sporting heavy puncture holes, a card collector's case, a simple belt knife, a walnut herbal case elegantly branded with a single silver rose, a red velvet soulstone case fringed with silver roping, a battle-torn velvet tailband, a thigh quiver dyed in a brown and green camouflage pattern, some bleached bone footwraps, a pair of heretic's boots with blackened steel-capped toes, and an etched steel parry stick with black leather straps.
Not even a moonmage would have predicted that Smozhstalker would become a paladin. A native of Ratha, he was considered a heretic and a drunkard by his family - although he had no close kin that would acknowledge him as "family" - and his neighbors. Born illegitimate, an unwanted son of a sailor and one of the women who worked in the oldest profession, he had indulged in petty crime, slept through services in Hav'roth's temple, and lived the life of a wastral, and had been favorless. He survived by doing odd jobs and begging at the local temples.
One day he passed the local temple of Chadatru while trying to earn a few coppers. He wasn't particularly a devout man. So he was surprised when a priest called him by name.
"You there. yes, you. Smozhstalker. Our temple has need of someone to journey to the crossing for us. We would like this envelope delivered to Esuin in the guild of Clerics there. If you do so, there's a few silver in it for you. Besides, the guards grow weary of seeing your face..."
He decided to take them up on the offer, although not waiting for the next ship to sail,when a moongate happened to open to Crossing,the guards threw him through it.
Without resources in this new environment, Smozhstalker sobered up enough to look for coins to buy his drinks, although he spent the money he received from Esuin, and woke up on numerous occasions outside of the Viper's Nest Inn, hardly paying much attention to other events occuring in the world. Not even noticing that the hordes of Lyras were closing in.
Meanwhile, the Philosphers of the Knife were taking in new initiates, and were resorting to unscrupulous means to attract the attention of commoners.
Somehow, Smozhstalker found himself one day in front of Zamidren Book, being offered the choice to join... or die. Having not had a drink that day, he was sober enough to realize just what a mess he had made of his life. And he knew that he was Not going to give his soul to the Necromancers.
So he said "No".
He has no memory of what occured next. But he was taken to the Dungeon within the hidden guild of the Necromancers, and there had terrible experiments performed upon him. As he called out in his native tongue, few there understood, or cared, about his cries. One however heard him. A female S'Kra, she heard his screams and determined to get him out of there, and managed to convince Book to release the old S'kra into her "care". Book told her in no uncertain terms to make sure he had no memory of where he had been. She managed to drag his unconscious form to one of her sisters home, where Shoshannah another sister - an empath, was staying, to care for his broken body. She told her sister that the old S'Kra had been ambushed by the Necromancers of Lyras's army. Not where she had really found him. He remained unconscious for days. Finally, he regained consciousness one day and limped away while Shoshannah had been out purchasing food for her patient.
The next thing he remembered, he was laying on the ground in a local alley. All he remembered, is that something terrible had happened to him. something... unholy. Corrupting. Horrible. Writhing streams of ... something? Something no s'kra should ever see. Torture. He had a brief glimpsing memory of himself screaming, and saying "no" .... and his tail becoming only a stub...hearing a human voice say, "let's see if their souls are really in their tails.."
He broke out in a sweat. He rose to his knees, and called out to the gods as he had never done before... first to the gods of his people, then to others of the pantheon ..."Hav'roth? " he heard no answer.... "Damaris?" still no answer.... "Rutilor! save me!" He heard something in the distance. Hounds.... baying...
He rose to his feet." Guide me! please! I have lost my way." He walked as if in a daze, not knowing where his steps were leading him.
He found himself in the office of Verika, the local paladin guildleader, and telling her everything he could remember. She looked sternly at him for a moment, then saw the pain in his eyes. Unspeakable pain.
"Yes, Smozhstalker. I have heard of you. Your name - which is of one dishonored by your people ...is now to be one that shall seek out those who have corrupted the world, and your people as well as all the peoples created by the gods. You must join us in fighting this scourge. And you must obtain the favor of the gods. You must fight the unholy filth that endangers us all. Only then will the agony you feel be quieted."
"And perhaps, if you dedicate yourself fully, Rutilor will let you become one of his Hounds. But first you must train yourself in our guild. It will be some time before you are ready to be one of Rutilors Knights."
Smozhstalker continues his training as a Paladin, and is learning the arts of an armor-crafter as well. He still has nights when he wakes up screaming.
You recall that you have a mud brick hovel with extensive smoke damage around North Road, Riverbank. It is a freestanding home, with a window located in a lowerclass urban area. Any race or profession can live in this home.
The home contains:
Floor: a brown dirt floor.
Attached: a red and black knotted prayer rug.
Home's Pet: a male ghost.
Weapon Rack: a copper and patina weapon rack.
Attached: a mace.
Attached: a flail.
Fire: a sooty brass brazier.
General Storage: a sturdy metal chest with dripping rust-colored stains down the sides.
Attached: an inquisitor's cassock marred by great sunbursts of soot on the red silk.
Attached: an armored candy Paladin.
Wall: a yellowed wall covered in dried blood spatters.
Attached: a portrait of a bewildered-looking Kaldar maiden cringing.
Chair: an unfinished home-made oak chair..
Misc Furniture #1: a homemade shrine crowded with tiny religious figurines.
Attached: a well-modeled depiction of Theren Keep with one broken tower.
Attached: a sleek white gold mongoose.
Door: a door.
Window: a simple double-paned window with a black square frame.
Armor Stand: a polished dark pine armor stand.
Attached: a padded Musparan silk robe.
Attached: some clay plate armor.
Attached: some plate greaves.
Misc Furniture #2: a pile of brown sand.
Scent: Metal polish.