PLAYED BY: Matt Thomas
CHARACTER NAME: Theodore (Theo) Abbotson
GENDER: Male
CLASS: Rogue
AGE: Middle aged, 30ish
RACE: Human
HAIR: Blonde
EYES: Hazel
OCCUPATION: Merc for hire
KNOWN SKILLS: Waylay (0xp), Sap (1xp), Dual Wielding (2xp), Improved Dual Wielding (3xp), Break Away (4xp), Appraise (5xp), Armor Proficiency (6xp)
BIRTHPLACE: Vandregon ~ Ritchcrag descendent
APPEARANCE: Tall, medium build, tends to wear masquerade masks or mempo’s.
NOTABLE TRAITS: Very good at doing whatever is asked of him
RELATIONSHIPS: Seems often found around people that need jobs doing at high prices
RUMORS: Supposedly killed a charging bull while walking across a field. Sticks to dark places. Enjoys camouflaging himself to train spying and subterfuge skills.
BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:
Growing up in the region of Vandregon, life was fairly peculiar for the young lad. This land was not the one his family had moved from where heroes were great and well respected. His parents drilled it into him at a young age that elders were shown the utmost courtesy and respect, especially to the individuals that wore fancy shirts, dresses, and hats above all. His father explained that they weren’t just a show of their stature in society, it meant they were efficient fighters, wearing the wealth of those slain by their blades. At first the young boy wanted to ask if it was to show off that they could embark on battles and return without a scratch, but he didn’t want to get snide less his father beat him for it. He came to realize while young what his parents meant by showing their superiors respect. His father would tell stories about how the nobles in Valinate would do horrible deeds to those whom offended them in, at least in Vandregon, seemed like water off a ducks back.
When the Penitent came surging into the lands of Vandregon, Theodore’s parents were a bit hasty to head for a new land discovered over seas. For his parents had been lucky to escape the town of Valinate on a vessel taking those who fled the Penitent away to safer lands. Safer, that is, for a time. Eventually many escaped the relentless undead horde for the safer lands of Mardrun that were rumored from sailors that had returned from over sea’s. Nobody knows if any defenders of Faedrun were left at all.
As the Abbotson’s, and many others, left Faedrun to the Penitent. It seemed like many weeks had passed before Mardrun’s shorelines came into sight, the yell from the crows nest of “LAND HO!!!” rung out loud and clear. During their voyage they came across a few other ships, all with the same destination in mind. Safety. For even though they might have left meager possessions behind, or everything they lived off of in wealth, everyone here was having a fresh start. Having Tailors for parents, to Theodore, seemed like a well respected job here in the new country. People were always needing holes patched and those that managed to acquire wealth quickly seemed to come in for well respectable attire to wear to business ventures and banquets with others.
Eventually in his twenties the burning of Richtcrag’s fighting desire took over the young man. He’d often take earnings from delivering his parents’ clothing, to the local tavern’s to see how many fights he might get himself into. As he grew more and more competent through his fighting, he’d begin to place bets with his chosen opponent of the evening for possessions. Theo would often wager big on the families well trained donkeys they’d purchased with which to haul fabrics to the shop, against someone’s sword, knowing fully well that the drunken arse was thinking they’d win two donkeys easily for such a meager thing as a sword. In this manner, Theodore came to stockpile weapons and various pieces of armor until he had himself quite the adventurer’s gear.
He’d often head out on long excursions to the various cities of New Hope, Silver’s Crossing, New Aldoria, to the great north and fight besides the warriors of the great Shield of Mardrun. He found fighting mordok quite amusing, especially when they’d go into a blood rage and chase him until they fell over dead. It was around this time that he practiced using the stealthy, dirty fighting tactics he heard about from his father at an event called The Masquerade. Masked individuals who’s only forms of identity were the colors of their masks, darting among shadows and slitting throats. He never got to know just how good they were at their chosen profession, but it didn’t stop him from trying to reach that same threshold.
A few years later and Theodore returned home to see his parents’ shop as successful as ever. The place had grown considerably as they bought new looms and hired a few more employees since, for all they knew, their son might have been slain somewhere. While at home he informed his parents of his deeds for the last few years and all the sight’s he’s seen. Of Mordok and the Dirge swamp, of how brutal and, quite frankly, terrifying they were face to face. Much more viscous fighters than drunken sods at a tavern. He told them of how they would enter a rage before death and he’d lead them off on a chase to keep it as far from his allies on the line before making it back to assist where he could once again. And he’d tell them the stories he’d hear from the Ulven fighters about there heroes and the bravery of their fighters and other seasoned warriors.
Now he’s off doing his own devices again. One can’t help but wonder…what stories will he come back with this time?