Soap
04-04-14, 01:49 PM
Name: Etrius Basutar
Age: 31
Race: Human/(?)
Hair: Long, Black
Eyes: Blue/Grey
Height: 5'10
Weight: 137lbs
Occupation: Sell-sword/Alchemist
Skills:
Acrobatics: A
Climb: A
Stealth: B+
Swordsmanship (Duel wield): S++
Herbology/Alchemy: S
Trained Senses: B+
Trained Reflexes: A+
Survival: A
Arcane Lore: C+
Weapons Maintenance: B
First Aid: B+
Subterfuge: B+
Lore (Planer/local faction, geography, Flaura/Fauna): B
Hand-To-Hand (Brawler/Submission) A+
Archery: B
Linguistics: B+
Throwing weapons:B+
Abilities:
Spatial Awareness: Sense movement up to five meters around himself, the closer a person or object is the more detail he can make out. The sensation is almost like having direct contact with the object, he is even able to make out texture and temperature when within a meter.
Alchemical Affinity: Etrius has an engraved, almost instinctual knowledge of alchemical processes and how to maximise efficiency and effect of all creations, and an supernatural ability to identify potions and potential ingredients simply by look or smell. In addition, all potions, poisons, ect, created by Etrius tend to have magical properties, even if created with mundane ingredients, making them incredibly effective. Not only are his potions stronger than most, his efficiency and skill allows him to concoct his creations in a fraction of the time it would normally take, allowing him to maintain a steady supply of his chosen combat potions between battles.
Recipes:
Acid splash potions contain a highly corrosive substance which can eat through simple materials and metals fairly quickly, depending on the thickness and quality. While obviously handy in combat, they also have a variety of every day uses, dissolving through locks for example.
Fire Splash potions contain a highly combustible substance which ignites as soon as it makes contact with open air. A standard vial, when thrown, will cause an fiery explosion between 5-8 feet in square diameter.
Smog, Etrius' special brand of poison has two main properties; when coated onto a weapon and introduced into the bloodstream, the target will suffer from nausea, dizziness, and will be severely weakened. The interesting thing about the compound is that when introduced to water (or any almost any liquid really), the poison will evaporate into a thick, darks mist that, when breathed induces the same effects as stated before. In addition, it can also be absorbed through the eyes in this form, adding blindness to the symptoms. A standard vial contains enough to create enough mist to fill a 5-10 foot square radius. Due to the effect liquid has on the poison, wounds made with a coated weapon tend to let out small amounts of the mist itself.
Combat draught Is a simple yet strong mixture of various painkillers, anti-coagulants, and amphetamines. The overall effect is that it slows or stops bleeding of minor to medium wounds, and helps deal with pain and fatigue, temporally giving the user the ability to continue fighting, or give him one last little boost in order to flee. Either way, this potion is best only used in emergencies, as not only is it very addictive, but once its worn off the user suffers from what could equate to the 'worlds worst hangover'. This 'come-down' lasts between 14-36 hours, the combination of the wounds received in combat and the potions sides effects leaves the user weakened, and unable to defend himself. Do NOT use more than once in 24 hours.
Dead Mans Tongue is reddish brown paste that when applied to the tongue of the recently dead, will partially animate the corpse allowing it to speak. The effect last roughly ten minuets, and any question asked of the corpse will be answered truthfully and to the best of their knowledge in a hollow, level voice.
Magic:
Flare- A blast of bright white light hot enough to blister flesh and blind opponents, sometimes permanently. Cast with a simple snap of his fingers searing light bursts from his hand accompanied by a loud crack. Though unlikely to be lethal the heat released causes severe burns even at range, causing great pain, while the light generated can blur the vision of the target even through their eyelids. Caster is uninfected by burns but still susceptible to blindness
Appearance: As appearances go, Etrius is quite plain. With a somewhat pale, sickly grey complexion the only thing that stands out really are his bright grey/blue eyes that rest in dark, sunken sockets. His hair is a greasy black that hangs past his shoulders, usually tied back, and decorated with various beads and coloured string. To most he comes off as just your average tavern-haunting drunk, probably poor of health. His overall build is lithe, well toned from a life of violence, his flesh is pale and webbed with scars and dotted with tattoos. Their varying designs ranging from intricate tribal markings, to odd symbols and unknown text that seam to warp and change beneath his skin. From his left shoulder down to the elbow, a grotesque burn scar wraps his arm, decades old and rough to the touch. His outfit hides most all of this save for a few small scars and chemical burns on his fingers and hands. Though he isn’t all that tall his limbs are quite lanky, making him seam almost awkward in his movements.
http://i1220.photobucket.com/albums/dd447/tgsoap/Etrius.jpg (http://s1220.photobucket.com/user/tgsoap/media/Etrius.jpg.html)
Usual Garments and Armour: Mottled grey trousers, tucked into black/grey leather boots. A thick, dark brown buttoned cotton shirt worn under a dark brown/grey knee length heavy leather coat, scratched and faded from years of use. Various buckles and belts cross his waist and chest under his coat, hung with pouches, satchels and a few hooked and toothed knives (for collecting ingredients, useless in combat), as well as being decorated with a variety of coloured vials. The coat itself is lined with hidden pockets, lined with thin leather as they often contain poisons, or other hazardous substances. A dark grey shawl wraps his shoulders and hang past his elbows, sporting a deep hood that is almost always kept up and easily shrouds his features. A pair of black, fingerless leather gloves wrap his hands, and a leather shoulder brace is worn on his left concealed by his shawl. Beneath his shirt, an Iron chain-mail vest protects his torso, and a small length of chain wraps his neck. Originally the chain was just for decoration, but after a close call involving an arrow and his jugular, he added a few more links so now it protects most of his neck.
Personality: Etrius is a relatively simple man with simple desires; put a drink in one hand and an attractive woman in the other and you'd be hard pressed to find a more contented man. Unfortunately, the latter is often hard to come by (or even pay for) for Etrius, as his lifetime of handling harsh chemicals and delving into the armpits of the universe (Almost literally, in some cases), have left him “smelling wrong”. His unknown blood line may also attribute to this, as he is convinced he is only half human, whatever the other half his he neither knows nor cares. This, coupled with his sickly appearance and his obnoxious, abrasive personality means he's usually forced to find comfort in the former. If he isn’t on the cusp of drunkenness (or well past it) he's often buzzing, or floating, or speeding on one of his personal concoctions, which also serves as his base form of income.
While normally an amiable enough guy, so long as he has a drink in his hand, Etrius has a quick temper, and a rather large opinion of himself, or a low one of every one else. Its hard to tell at times, but his blazon arrogance and mischievous nature often rubs people the wrong way, very much to his amusement, as the only thing he enjoys as much as strong drink and wild women is annoying the crap out of people. And then, if given the chance, kicking the crap out of them. Although Etrius is by most accounts a drunken waster, he is in fact a highly skilled swordsman and alchemist, often making ends meet by selling out both skills. This is relatively common knowledge within his regular haunts, what no one knows however is that he also dabbles in magic, and though no arch-mage, it has saved his life numerous times.
There are few things Etrius actually cares about, even fewer he takes pride in, but his alchemy is by far the most important. He spares no expense on ingredients and materials, and if they cant be bought he will collect by hand. Unfortunately a lot of the best, often necessary stuff cant be found 'locally', meaning he often is forced to travel to distant lands, continents, even planes of reality for something as small as a single plant. As such Etrius actively seeks out information on portals and/or mages with the ability to control them. Some would say its too much trouble to go through when there’s so little end product, especially for a lazy bastard like him, to this Etrius' response is always the same. “Aye, you just keep on thinkin' that. It'll make it all the funnier when yer tryin' to put out the flames. Ha!”
Weapons:
Curved Iron short sword with pistol grip
Short hooked heavy iron sword-catcher
Small Iron curved dagger (concealed up sleeve).
http://i1220.photobucket.com/albums/dd447/tgsoap/pistolgrip1.jpg
http://i1220.photobucket.com/albums/dd447/tgsoap/Chinese_Fighting_Twin_Hook_Swords_C-616S.jpg
Inventory:
Small, shoulder slung gear bag. (Kettle, First Aid kit, Weapon Maintenance gear, sewing kit, length of rope, looking glass, sleeping roll, portable alchemy station, flint/steal, tinder box.)
Tobacco pouch/rolling papers
Matches
Hip flask
Small flip-lidded container filled with Dead Mans Tongue
History: Etrius' past is largely unknown even to himself, he has no memories earlier than the age of five, his parentage is unknown as well as his race. At this time he was being raised and taught by a short, elderly woman, known and feared to the residents of the nearby town as the Night Hag Mebbeth. She lived out in the wilderness in a small shack be the edge of a swamp, and spent her days collecting plants and odd minerals from the surrounding area, and combining them into strange and fascinating concoctions and powders. On occasion she would be visited by on of the more courageous locals who would come in search of a remedy for one ailment or another, the price being seemingly random. It could be a fish, or a bundle of oranges, or even a task to be performed in the distant future. And should their agreement ever be broken, the offending party would simply up and disappear. Even Etrius doesn’t know what happens to them, and never dared to ask.
Mebbeth rarely spoke, usually only during lessons or to give her young charge a task, or berate him for his failures. Whenever he would ask about his parents, or about the nearby towns or other places or lands her response was almost always a sharp hiss followed by a clout around the ear. On one occasion curiosity got the better of Etrius, and he snuck away into the nearby city while Mebbeth was out on an errand. He spent hours just wandering the streets, exploring this new world with a child like wonder and glee, his tattered hemp clothes earned him some odd looks but he was far past caring. It was the early morning before he got tired, and found a narrow alleyway and an large old rag to bed down in. When he awoke, he was back in Mebbeth's hut, his adoptive mother glaring down at him with smouldering furry in her now yellow and red eyes. Etrius has never been more terrified than he was in that moment, she beat him harshly, almost to the point of death, screaming in a language that he had never heard before. When her fury was spent, she patched him up, healing him with the concoctions just enough so he would survive, and set him about with his usual routine of lessons and chores. It was a rough couple weeks, but Etrius was now filled with a burning resolve; to escape this monstrous Hag and return into the bustling world of city life which had captured his heart.
Life continued as normal until he reached puberty, and he started having strange sensations whenever Mebbeth was near. He could tell when she was near, feel when she was moving about or coming close. In addition his skill with alchemy increased exponentially, even without being told he could easily identify the ingredients and potions scattered about the hut, even ones Mebbeth was still working on identifying. Fearing how Mebbeth would react to this, Etrius kept his new found abilities secret, pretending nothing was amiss. He managed to keep up his charade until he was fifteen, until one day, during his lessons, he let slip knowledge of a chemical he should not have had. Mebbeth accused him of reading her forbidden books and threatened to thrash him unless she got the truth. Eventually, out of fear, Etrius told her everything. Mebbeth was very still for a while, and then, suddenly, she exploded into a mad rage, her eyes once again red and yellow. Roaring in that strange language again she grabbed a nearby small blade and lunged at him, intent on one thing only, ending his life. Terrified and confused, Etrius grabbed a nearby jar and splashed its contents into the mad woman’s face, before turning and fleeing from the shack, followed only by his Adopted mother's pained screams. He's been running ever since, using the knowledge instilled into him to survive. After a few months scraping by in a distant trading town he signed up with the military, gaining the strength and skills he relies on to this day. He spent the next seven years touring various battlefields, fighting in several wars before growing tired of killing for other people. If he was gonna kill, it would be for himself. He went AWOL, fleeing the military and the country entirely.
Due to accident and chance, Etrius passed beneath to trees collapsed against each other, making an arch. A flash of light blinded him for a brief instant, and suddenly he found himself in a bustling metropolis. People of all shapes, sizes, and colour (some weren’t even human), wandered the wide dirt streets in all directions. He tried to get his bearings, asking nearby human(ish) residents where he was and if they knew how he got there. The just laughed at him, then attacked. After dispatching the, he endeavoured to be more cautious, as he soon learned that carelessness and naïvety was a quick way to earn a knife in the gut. Sigil, he learned was the name of this strange city, and he was indeed very far from home. He spent five years in that strange place, desperately searching for a way back to where he belonged. Etrius lost count of how many times he's come close to death in that place, taking a life became a daily event, either in self defence or to put food in his mouth. During his time trapped in that hive of madness, he found that he had affinity for magic and took up the craft, managing a few simple cantrips and a single offensive spell which has saved his life more times than he can remember in his time there. Five long years trapped, untill he finally found a portal out of that hell hole. He wasn’t sure if it would take him back to his world, but it looked similar, and anywhere had to be better than there. He stepped through, and found himself in forest clearing, in a land known as Salvar. He had heard of it before, so he must've made it back, albeit far from where he was five years ago. It was almost surreal to be back in such a familiar environment, but he was glad to be there. He made his way to the closest city he could find, set up in the cheapest tavern he could find, and made himself at home.
Etrius, though fond of his favourite haunt, is still constantly on the move. For he knows that Mebbeth is still out there, hunting him. He's encountered her a few times since his escape, always awaking to her standing over him, glaring with those red/yellow eyes, before attacking. She even found him once in Sigil, the how of which still confounds and terrifies him. He's convinced that she somehow always knows where he is, or is constantly watching him. He rarely sleeps these days, as even though he spent most of his early life living with her, he still knows nothing about her, who she really is, or more importantly, what.
Age: 31
Race: Human/(?)
Hair: Long, Black
Eyes: Blue/Grey
Height: 5'10
Weight: 137lbs
Occupation: Sell-sword/Alchemist
Skills:
Acrobatics: A
Climb: A
Stealth: B+
Swordsmanship (Duel wield): S++
Herbology/Alchemy: S
Trained Senses: B+
Trained Reflexes: A+
Survival: A
Arcane Lore: C+
Weapons Maintenance: B
First Aid: B+
Subterfuge: B+
Lore (Planer/local faction, geography, Flaura/Fauna): B
Hand-To-Hand (Brawler/Submission) A+
Archery: B
Linguistics: B+
Throwing weapons:B+
Abilities:
Spatial Awareness: Sense movement up to five meters around himself, the closer a person or object is the more detail he can make out. The sensation is almost like having direct contact with the object, he is even able to make out texture and temperature when within a meter.
Alchemical Affinity: Etrius has an engraved, almost instinctual knowledge of alchemical processes and how to maximise efficiency and effect of all creations, and an supernatural ability to identify potions and potential ingredients simply by look or smell. In addition, all potions, poisons, ect, created by Etrius tend to have magical properties, even if created with mundane ingredients, making them incredibly effective. Not only are his potions stronger than most, his efficiency and skill allows him to concoct his creations in a fraction of the time it would normally take, allowing him to maintain a steady supply of his chosen combat potions between battles.
Recipes:
Acid splash potions contain a highly corrosive substance which can eat through simple materials and metals fairly quickly, depending on the thickness and quality. While obviously handy in combat, they also have a variety of every day uses, dissolving through locks for example.
Fire Splash potions contain a highly combustible substance which ignites as soon as it makes contact with open air. A standard vial, when thrown, will cause an fiery explosion between 5-8 feet in square diameter.
Smog, Etrius' special brand of poison has two main properties; when coated onto a weapon and introduced into the bloodstream, the target will suffer from nausea, dizziness, and will be severely weakened. The interesting thing about the compound is that when introduced to water (or any almost any liquid really), the poison will evaporate into a thick, darks mist that, when breathed induces the same effects as stated before. In addition, it can also be absorbed through the eyes in this form, adding blindness to the symptoms. A standard vial contains enough to create enough mist to fill a 5-10 foot square radius. Due to the effect liquid has on the poison, wounds made with a coated weapon tend to let out small amounts of the mist itself.
Combat draught Is a simple yet strong mixture of various painkillers, anti-coagulants, and amphetamines. The overall effect is that it slows or stops bleeding of minor to medium wounds, and helps deal with pain and fatigue, temporally giving the user the ability to continue fighting, or give him one last little boost in order to flee. Either way, this potion is best only used in emergencies, as not only is it very addictive, but once its worn off the user suffers from what could equate to the 'worlds worst hangover'. This 'come-down' lasts between 14-36 hours, the combination of the wounds received in combat and the potions sides effects leaves the user weakened, and unable to defend himself. Do NOT use more than once in 24 hours.
Dead Mans Tongue is reddish brown paste that when applied to the tongue of the recently dead, will partially animate the corpse allowing it to speak. The effect last roughly ten minuets, and any question asked of the corpse will be answered truthfully and to the best of their knowledge in a hollow, level voice.
Magic:
Flare- A blast of bright white light hot enough to blister flesh and blind opponents, sometimes permanently. Cast with a simple snap of his fingers searing light bursts from his hand accompanied by a loud crack. Though unlikely to be lethal the heat released causes severe burns even at range, causing great pain, while the light generated can blur the vision of the target even through their eyelids. Caster is uninfected by burns but still susceptible to blindness
Appearance: As appearances go, Etrius is quite plain. With a somewhat pale, sickly grey complexion the only thing that stands out really are his bright grey/blue eyes that rest in dark, sunken sockets. His hair is a greasy black that hangs past his shoulders, usually tied back, and decorated with various beads and coloured string. To most he comes off as just your average tavern-haunting drunk, probably poor of health. His overall build is lithe, well toned from a life of violence, his flesh is pale and webbed with scars and dotted with tattoos. Their varying designs ranging from intricate tribal markings, to odd symbols and unknown text that seam to warp and change beneath his skin. From his left shoulder down to the elbow, a grotesque burn scar wraps his arm, decades old and rough to the touch. His outfit hides most all of this save for a few small scars and chemical burns on his fingers and hands. Though he isn’t all that tall his limbs are quite lanky, making him seam almost awkward in his movements.
http://i1220.photobucket.com/albums/dd447/tgsoap/Etrius.jpg (http://s1220.photobucket.com/user/tgsoap/media/Etrius.jpg.html)
Usual Garments and Armour: Mottled grey trousers, tucked into black/grey leather boots. A thick, dark brown buttoned cotton shirt worn under a dark brown/grey knee length heavy leather coat, scratched and faded from years of use. Various buckles and belts cross his waist and chest under his coat, hung with pouches, satchels and a few hooked and toothed knives (for collecting ingredients, useless in combat), as well as being decorated with a variety of coloured vials. The coat itself is lined with hidden pockets, lined with thin leather as they often contain poisons, or other hazardous substances. A dark grey shawl wraps his shoulders and hang past his elbows, sporting a deep hood that is almost always kept up and easily shrouds his features. A pair of black, fingerless leather gloves wrap his hands, and a leather shoulder brace is worn on his left concealed by his shawl. Beneath his shirt, an Iron chain-mail vest protects his torso, and a small length of chain wraps his neck. Originally the chain was just for decoration, but after a close call involving an arrow and his jugular, he added a few more links so now it protects most of his neck.
Personality: Etrius is a relatively simple man with simple desires; put a drink in one hand and an attractive woman in the other and you'd be hard pressed to find a more contented man. Unfortunately, the latter is often hard to come by (or even pay for) for Etrius, as his lifetime of handling harsh chemicals and delving into the armpits of the universe (Almost literally, in some cases), have left him “smelling wrong”. His unknown blood line may also attribute to this, as he is convinced he is only half human, whatever the other half his he neither knows nor cares. This, coupled with his sickly appearance and his obnoxious, abrasive personality means he's usually forced to find comfort in the former. If he isn’t on the cusp of drunkenness (or well past it) he's often buzzing, or floating, or speeding on one of his personal concoctions, which also serves as his base form of income.
While normally an amiable enough guy, so long as he has a drink in his hand, Etrius has a quick temper, and a rather large opinion of himself, or a low one of every one else. Its hard to tell at times, but his blazon arrogance and mischievous nature often rubs people the wrong way, very much to his amusement, as the only thing he enjoys as much as strong drink and wild women is annoying the crap out of people. And then, if given the chance, kicking the crap out of them. Although Etrius is by most accounts a drunken waster, he is in fact a highly skilled swordsman and alchemist, often making ends meet by selling out both skills. This is relatively common knowledge within his regular haunts, what no one knows however is that he also dabbles in magic, and though no arch-mage, it has saved his life numerous times.
There are few things Etrius actually cares about, even fewer he takes pride in, but his alchemy is by far the most important. He spares no expense on ingredients and materials, and if they cant be bought he will collect by hand. Unfortunately a lot of the best, often necessary stuff cant be found 'locally', meaning he often is forced to travel to distant lands, continents, even planes of reality for something as small as a single plant. As such Etrius actively seeks out information on portals and/or mages with the ability to control them. Some would say its too much trouble to go through when there’s so little end product, especially for a lazy bastard like him, to this Etrius' response is always the same. “Aye, you just keep on thinkin' that. It'll make it all the funnier when yer tryin' to put out the flames. Ha!”
Weapons:
Curved Iron short sword with pistol grip
Short hooked heavy iron sword-catcher
Small Iron curved dagger (concealed up sleeve).
http://i1220.photobucket.com/albums/dd447/tgsoap/pistolgrip1.jpg
http://i1220.photobucket.com/albums/dd447/tgsoap/Chinese_Fighting_Twin_Hook_Swords_C-616S.jpg
Inventory:
Small, shoulder slung gear bag. (Kettle, First Aid kit, Weapon Maintenance gear, sewing kit, length of rope, looking glass, sleeping roll, portable alchemy station, flint/steal, tinder box.)
Tobacco pouch/rolling papers
Matches
Hip flask
Small flip-lidded container filled with Dead Mans Tongue
History: Etrius' past is largely unknown even to himself, he has no memories earlier than the age of five, his parentage is unknown as well as his race. At this time he was being raised and taught by a short, elderly woman, known and feared to the residents of the nearby town as the Night Hag Mebbeth. She lived out in the wilderness in a small shack be the edge of a swamp, and spent her days collecting plants and odd minerals from the surrounding area, and combining them into strange and fascinating concoctions and powders. On occasion she would be visited by on of the more courageous locals who would come in search of a remedy for one ailment or another, the price being seemingly random. It could be a fish, or a bundle of oranges, or even a task to be performed in the distant future. And should their agreement ever be broken, the offending party would simply up and disappear. Even Etrius doesn’t know what happens to them, and never dared to ask.
Mebbeth rarely spoke, usually only during lessons or to give her young charge a task, or berate him for his failures. Whenever he would ask about his parents, or about the nearby towns or other places or lands her response was almost always a sharp hiss followed by a clout around the ear. On one occasion curiosity got the better of Etrius, and he snuck away into the nearby city while Mebbeth was out on an errand. He spent hours just wandering the streets, exploring this new world with a child like wonder and glee, his tattered hemp clothes earned him some odd looks but he was far past caring. It was the early morning before he got tired, and found a narrow alleyway and an large old rag to bed down in. When he awoke, he was back in Mebbeth's hut, his adoptive mother glaring down at him with smouldering furry in her now yellow and red eyes. Etrius has never been more terrified than he was in that moment, she beat him harshly, almost to the point of death, screaming in a language that he had never heard before. When her fury was spent, she patched him up, healing him with the concoctions just enough so he would survive, and set him about with his usual routine of lessons and chores. It was a rough couple weeks, but Etrius was now filled with a burning resolve; to escape this monstrous Hag and return into the bustling world of city life which had captured his heart.
Life continued as normal until he reached puberty, and he started having strange sensations whenever Mebbeth was near. He could tell when she was near, feel when she was moving about or coming close. In addition his skill with alchemy increased exponentially, even without being told he could easily identify the ingredients and potions scattered about the hut, even ones Mebbeth was still working on identifying. Fearing how Mebbeth would react to this, Etrius kept his new found abilities secret, pretending nothing was amiss. He managed to keep up his charade until he was fifteen, until one day, during his lessons, he let slip knowledge of a chemical he should not have had. Mebbeth accused him of reading her forbidden books and threatened to thrash him unless she got the truth. Eventually, out of fear, Etrius told her everything. Mebbeth was very still for a while, and then, suddenly, she exploded into a mad rage, her eyes once again red and yellow. Roaring in that strange language again she grabbed a nearby small blade and lunged at him, intent on one thing only, ending his life. Terrified and confused, Etrius grabbed a nearby jar and splashed its contents into the mad woman’s face, before turning and fleeing from the shack, followed only by his Adopted mother's pained screams. He's been running ever since, using the knowledge instilled into him to survive. After a few months scraping by in a distant trading town he signed up with the military, gaining the strength and skills he relies on to this day. He spent the next seven years touring various battlefields, fighting in several wars before growing tired of killing for other people. If he was gonna kill, it would be for himself. He went AWOL, fleeing the military and the country entirely.
Due to accident and chance, Etrius passed beneath to trees collapsed against each other, making an arch. A flash of light blinded him for a brief instant, and suddenly he found himself in a bustling metropolis. People of all shapes, sizes, and colour (some weren’t even human), wandered the wide dirt streets in all directions. He tried to get his bearings, asking nearby human(ish) residents where he was and if they knew how he got there. The just laughed at him, then attacked. After dispatching the, he endeavoured to be more cautious, as he soon learned that carelessness and naïvety was a quick way to earn a knife in the gut. Sigil, he learned was the name of this strange city, and he was indeed very far from home. He spent five years in that strange place, desperately searching for a way back to where he belonged. Etrius lost count of how many times he's come close to death in that place, taking a life became a daily event, either in self defence or to put food in his mouth. During his time trapped in that hive of madness, he found that he had affinity for magic and took up the craft, managing a few simple cantrips and a single offensive spell which has saved his life more times than he can remember in his time there. Five long years trapped, untill he finally found a portal out of that hell hole. He wasn’t sure if it would take him back to his world, but it looked similar, and anywhere had to be better than there. He stepped through, and found himself in forest clearing, in a land known as Salvar. He had heard of it before, so he must've made it back, albeit far from where he was five years ago. It was almost surreal to be back in such a familiar environment, but he was glad to be there. He made his way to the closest city he could find, set up in the cheapest tavern he could find, and made himself at home.
Etrius, though fond of his favourite haunt, is still constantly on the move. For he knows that Mebbeth is still out there, hunting him. He's encountered her a few times since his escape, always awaking to her standing over him, glaring with those red/yellow eyes, before attacking. She even found him once in Sigil, the how of which still confounds and terrifies him. He's convinced that she somehow always knows where he is, or is constantly watching him. He rarely sleeps these days, as even though he spent most of his early life living with her, he still knows nothing about her, who she really is, or more importantly, what.