Wool
New Member
Character sheet link: Sullivan Tanager Lafleece
Discord: Wool#7024
Posting activity: High frequency, 4pm-10pm PDT all days.
Background: The Captain of the Daggerford town guard leaned back in his chair and put his boots up on his desk. "Do I know a guy? Hmm... Yeah, I might know a guy, though he hasn't worked with us for a long time. His name's Sullivan. Grew up here, back when I was still a grunt. Bit of a soft kid, but clever and reliable."
Born to an elven priestess of Tymora, and a man, at best, described as a two-legged gambling rat, Sullivan found himself dragged from tavern to tavern, and from den to den, unknowingly always on the verge of being his father's last big bet. Over the years of his youth, most of the gamblers and innkeeps grew fond of the boy, finding him far more endearing than his father, who seemed to be constantly finding new debts that he couldn't repay. His mother, Shay'la, was often distant, her distaste for her once-lover creating a rift that made forming a bond with Sullivan difficult. They appreciated each other with something similar to love, but rarely felt like mother and son, the relationship was more akin to clergy attempting to give guidance to a lost child.
On his 14th birthday, his father was murdered.
For most children, this would be a defining moment in their lives. For Sullivan, nothing changed. He continued visiting the taverns and gambling dens he was far too young to be in, slipping in the back rooms courtesy of his many adoptive families, families that had cared for him far more than his blood ever did. The exchanges were simple and friendly, he'd mingle and gossip and entertain, in exchange for some food from the innkeeps, musical lessons from local talent, and coin from the card sharks. There was a genuine desire to see this boy become a man unlike his father, shielding him best they could from the more criminal aspects of their respective businesses.
"I think he was about eighteen when we brought him in. Or, well, he came to us I suppose. It was pretty mutual, to be honest. The kid had connections all over the city, but always kept his nose clean. Suspicious, you know? So as the boss sends us out to talk to him, and he finds us first, says he wants to talk. The underbelly of the city had problems. Nothing new, but problems need solved, and Sullivan seemed like the best candidate, according to his 'families', as he put it. As I recall, there were a lot of troubles going on at the time, kidnappings, trafficking, murders. Kid wanted to help. So, we let him."
Sullivan had picked up a knack for reading people, finding details, and swaying opinion in his favour. Tricks honed by watching and listening to bookies and betters haggling and debating, barmaids and tavern keeps keeping patrons in line, and crafty bards spinning tales for tips. As this new, unknown danger spread, he watched as those close to him vanished or died one by one. People the town at large didn't miss, but to him, they were brothers and sisters, adoptive parents. He felt the need to protect those who had done the same for him for so long, and decided the best way to do so was to work both sides of the fence. Luckily, his clean sheet made his proposal a little easier for the local watch to accept, and sent him back out as a liaison, given permission to open the flow of information in hopes to root out the new criminal ring.
"Things were actually pretty smooth for a while, they gave us names, we gave them locations, though to be honest, I think most of it was Sully snooping about on his own. Didn't go unnoticed though. An attempt was made on his life while he slept, in the Happy Cow tavern. Start of a string of bad luck that he hasn't shaken since."
It was deep into the night, when Sullivan heard shouting outside his room. Opening the door, he locked eyes with a cloaked figure. Down the hallway, his close friend Bartholomew, a musician he'd practiced with for years, running and shouting. The figure quietly pulled out a dagger, and lunged in Sullivan's direction, but not before Bart could dive in front. Tackling the attacker, the two exchanged blows, dagger to dagger, as Sullivan watched in shock and horror. The silent assailant eventually chose self-preservation, and withdrew into the night, but Bart wouldn't be as lucky. Powerful poisons coursed through his wounds. He wouldn't make it to see dawn.
The resolve grew greater in Sullivan, determined to not only shut down this insidious darkness within his city, but to get revenge. He would bring justice for all the lives left in the gutter.
"We were worried about the kid, so we stuck him with a partner. A good, solid chap, somebody to watch his back, and partly to make sure he didn't get himself in too deep. He was starting to get emotional about it. Over the following weeks, Sullivan, and his new partner, Bakerson, methodically took apart the criminal organization, pulling up the weeds, digging their way to the root. They made a hell of a team. Had them both hired on as investigators, full time, good pay. The city watch are around to take care of troublemakers, but when we needed a problem solved before it happened, we sent Sully and Bake. Things were nice and smooth for almost a decade, before Sully's luck finally came back around. Some kind of cult started working its way into the city. Of course, we had them on it right away. Not less than a week had passed, when Sullivan came back, alone. Wouldn't talk to any of us about what had happened, best we could get out of him was 'it drained his life, it took his soul'. About a month later, he came in and resigned, no other words. We managed to shut down the cult, but lost a lot of good men doing so. Necromancers, we found, bringing up ghouls and ghasts. Poor lads, him and Bakerson both..."
Sullivan couldn't shake the horror of the monstrosity that killed his partner, his best friend. He turned to books and solitude, hoping to find answers in education, or at least a distraction. He took to studying everything and anything he could get his hands on, from cooking to carpentry, from arcane knowledge to occult mystery, he attempted to absorb as much about everything as his mind would hold. Over time, he found knowledge meant nothing without application, and went to the two places he knew could teach him what he needed to survive, to protect himself, and more importantly, to protect others. Returning to the city watch, he asked to be given basic training. How to use a weapon, how to properly fit armour, basic battlefield tactics.
"He'd come to us for a few hours of the day, training like he was preparing for war. As I'd said, soft kid, but real clever. Never seen somebody talk his way through a duel like he could. Then when he was done here, he'd head off to the temple of Tymora for the night. Never struck me as a religious man, but being faced with the undead can have that effect."
Initially, the reunion with his mother was very uncomfortable. Though they lived in the same city, they hadn't talked in nearly twenty years. Slowly, day by day, the two opened up to each other, sharing the lives they'd both missed. Eventually, Sullivan shared the night of Bakerson's death with her, letting go of the burden, and admitting that he was lost. Reassuring him as best she could, they began the slow process of healing the scars of his past together. He rediscovered his love for music, found it helped to center him and keep him grounded, and with a little aid from his mother, drew out small motes of magic within. Reconvening with what was left of his old family from the underbelly, he went searching for stories and secrets, hoping to further his growing magical aptitude.
"He doesn't come around as often these days, but if you're looking to recruit some help, go ask around for Sullivan. He's no soldier, but I don't think that's what you folk are looking for," the Captain says, as he leans forwards and gives you a stern look.
Discord: Wool#7024
Posting activity: High frequency, 4pm-10pm PDT all days.
Background: The Captain of the Daggerford town guard leaned back in his chair and put his boots up on his desk. "Do I know a guy? Hmm... Yeah, I might know a guy, though he hasn't worked with us for a long time. His name's Sullivan. Grew up here, back when I was still a grunt. Bit of a soft kid, but clever and reliable."
Born to an elven priestess of Tymora, and a man, at best, described as a two-legged gambling rat, Sullivan found himself dragged from tavern to tavern, and from den to den, unknowingly always on the verge of being his father's last big bet. Over the years of his youth, most of the gamblers and innkeeps grew fond of the boy, finding him far more endearing than his father, who seemed to be constantly finding new debts that he couldn't repay. His mother, Shay'la, was often distant, her distaste for her once-lover creating a rift that made forming a bond with Sullivan difficult. They appreciated each other with something similar to love, but rarely felt like mother and son, the relationship was more akin to clergy attempting to give guidance to a lost child.
On his 14th birthday, his father was murdered.
For most children, this would be a defining moment in their lives. For Sullivan, nothing changed. He continued visiting the taverns and gambling dens he was far too young to be in, slipping in the back rooms courtesy of his many adoptive families, families that had cared for him far more than his blood ever did. The exchanges were simple and friendly, he'd mingle and gossip and entertain, in exchange for some food from the innkeeps, musical lessons from local talent, and coin from the card sharks. There was a genuine desire to see this boy become a man unlike his father, shielding him best they could from the more criminal aspects of their respective businesses.
"I think he was about eighteen when we brought him in. Or, well, he came to us I suppose. It was pretty mutual, to be honest. The kid had connections all over the city, but always kept his nose clean. Suspicious, you know? So as the boss sends us out to talk to him, and he finds us first, says he wants to talk. The underbelly of the city had problems. Nothing new, but problems need solved, and Sullivan seemed like the best candidate, according to his 'families', as he put it. As I recall, there were a lot of troubles going on at the time, kidnappings, trafficking, murders. Kid wanted to help. So, we let him."
Sullivan had picked up a knack for reading people, finding details, and swaying opinion in his favour. Tricks honed by watching and listening to bookies and betters haggling and debating, barmaids and tavern keeps keeping patrons in line, and crafty bards spinning tales for tips. As this new, unknown danger spread, he watched as those close to him vanished or died one by one. People the town at large didn't miss, but to him, they were brothers and sisters, adoptive parents. He felt the need to protect those who had done the same for him for so long, and decided the best way to do so was to work both sides of the fence. Luckily, his clean sheet made his proposal a little easier for the local watch to accept, and sent him back out as a liaison, given permission to open the flow of information in hopes to root out the new criminal ring.
"Things were actually pretty smooth for a while, they gave us names, we gave them locations, though to be honest, I think most of it was Sully snooping about on his own. Didn't go unnoticed though. An attempt was made on his life while he slept, in the Happy Cow tavern. Start of a string of bad luck that he hasn't shaken since."
It was deep into the night, when Sullivan heard shouting outside his room. Opening the door, he locked eyes with a cloaked figure. Down the hallway, his close friend Bartholomew, a musician he'd practiced with for years, running and shouting. The figure quietly pulled out a dagger, and lunged in Sullivan's direction, but not before Bart could dive in front. Tackling the attacker, the two exchanged blows, dagger to dagger, as Sullivan watched in shock and horror. The silent assailant eventually chose self-preservation, and withdrew into the night, but Bart wouldn't be as lucky. Powerful poisons coursed through his wounds. He wouldn't make it to see dawn.
The resolve grew greater in Sullivan, determined to not only shut down this insidious darkness within his city, but to get revenge. He would bring justice for all the lives left in the gutter.
"We were worried about the kid, so we stuck him with a partner. A good, solid chap, somebody to watch his back, and partly to make sure he didn't get himself in too deep. He was starting to get emotional about it. Over the following weeks, Sullivan, and his new partner, Bakerson, methodically took apart the criminal organization, pulling up the weeds, digging their way to the root. They made a hell of a team. Had them both hired on as investigators, full time, good pay. The city watch are around to take care of troublemakers, but when we needed a problem solved before it happened, we sent Sully and Bake. Things were nice and smooth for almost a decade, before Sully's luck finally came back around. Some kind of cult started working its way into the city. Of course, we had them on it right away. Not less than a week had passed, when Sullivan came back, alone. Wouldn't talk to any of us about what had happened, best we could get out of him was 'it drained his life, it took his soul'. About a month later, he came in and resigned, no other words. We managed to shut down the cult, but lost a lot of good men doing so. Necromancers, we found, bringing up ghouls and ghasts. Poor lads, him and Bakerson both..."
Sullivan couldn't shake the horror of the monstrosity that killed his partner, his best friend. He turned to books and solitude, hoping to find answers in education, or at least a distraction. He took to studying everything and anything he could get his hands on, from cooking to carpentry, from arcane knowledge to occult mystery, he attempted to absorb as much about everything as his mind would hold. Over time, he found knowledge meant nothing without application, and went to the two places he knew could teach him what he needed to survive, to protect himself, and more importantly, to protect others. Returning to the city watch, he asked to be given basic training. How to use a weapon, how to properly fit armour, basic battlefield tactics.
"He'd come to us for a few hours of the day, training like he was preparing for war. As I'd said, soft kid, but real clever. Never seen somebody talk his way through a duel like he could. Then when he was done here, he'd head off to the temple of Tymora for the night. Never struck me as a religious man, but being faced with the undead can have that effect."
Initially, the reunion with his mother was very uncomfortable. Though they lived in the same city, they hadn't talked in nearly twenty years. Slowly, day by day, the two opened up to each other, sharing the lives they'd both missed. Eventually, Sullivan shared the night of Bakerson's death with her, letting go of the burden, and admitting that he was lost. Reassuring him as best she could, they began the slow process of healing the scars of his past together. He rediscovered his love for music, found it helped to center him and keep him grounded, and with a little aid from his mother, drew out small motes of magic within. Reconvening with what was left of his old family from the underbelly, he went searching for stories and secrets, hoping to further his growing magical aptitude.
"He doesn't come around as often these days, but if you're looking to recruit some help, go ask around for Sullivan. He's no soldier, but I don't think that's what you folk are looking for," the Captain says, as he leans forwards and gives you a stern look.
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