Post by comradechris on Jul 7, 2013 23:56:07 GMT 8
Born the second son of a Varisian gypsy who lost her first husband, Kleptus was doted upon in excess and so enjoyed a very indulgent childhood. Afraid that she would somehow lose Kleptus, as her first son had become very withdrawn after the death of her first husband, she would indulge his every whim and fancy, and taught him her ways of a performer so that she could keep him close.
Alas, as they say, too much of anything, even good, is bad. And so the young boy grew into a young man, with the impression that the provisions of life need not be worked for, but rather provided by those who adored him. Previously, it was his mother, then later, the other ladies in his caravan troupe who were enraptured by his good looks and honeyed tongue. While others would forage, hunt, trade of even pilfer the things they needed, Kleptus would sweet talk his admirers into giving him the things he wanted, food, water, clothes, trinkets, to name a few.
One night, as he lay in bed stroking the hair of a young Calistrean priestess who took a fancy to him, he sang softly into her ear, putting a smile across her face as she lay next to him. Midway through the song, he felt thirsty and changed his lyrics to include praises to Calistrea and a small request for some water. Suddenly, water gushed from his hand, wetting the shocked priestess.
Thinking that he played a prank on her, she sought to do the same, and tried to cast a blessing to create water to similarly soak Kleptus. However, she raised her hands to gesture but the words would not escape her mouth. It was as though that she had completely forgotten her basic acolyte training to invoke the favour of Calistria.
In that moment of stunned silence, Kleptus realized that the words that she wanted to speak were in his head, like a bee in a glass jar, buzzing around. He sang the last stanza again, and water did indeed gush from his hand again, although this time it wet the bed, much to the chagrin of the priestess.
Perhaps it was his indulgent upbringing, resulting in his belief of self-entitlement, coupled with the latent magic in his blood, allowed him to do so. The world would never know how, for Kleptus himself did not. Neither did he care. Somehow he got it but to him, all that mattered was that he had it. In fact, he felt that it was natural that he could steal spells, for just like everything he had in life, as long as he wanted it, he got it.
With this new awareness, he now craved something new that his caravan could not give – adventure. And so he bid farewell to his caravan and joined the Pathfinder Society.
And that would be the last his dear mother ever saw of him, for in his first adventure as a Pathfinder, the naïve Kleptus sought to show off his prowess to a beautiful summoner named Vex, and charged into a room full of undead.
STR 13
DEX 14
CON 12
INT 10
WIS 10
CHA 18
Class: Bard (Sandman Archetype)
[Everything else is irrelevant]
Alas, as they say, too much of anything, even good, is bad. And so the young boy grew into a young man, with the impression that the provisions of life need not be worked for, but rather provided by those who adored him. Previously, it was his mother, then later, the other ladies in his caravan troupe who were enraptured by his good looks and honeyed tongue. While others would forage, hunt, trade of even pilfer the things they needed, Kleptus would sweet talk his admirers into giving him the things he wanted, food, water, clothes, trinkets, to name a few.
One night, as he lay in bed stroking the hair of a young Calistrean priestess who took a fancy to him, he sang softly into her ear, putting a smile across her face as she lay next to him. Midway through the song, he felt thirsty and changed his lyrics to include praises to Calistrea and a small request for some water. Suddenly, water gushed from his hand, wetting the shocked priestess.
Thinking that he played a prank on her, she sought to do the same, and tried to cast a blessing to create water to similarly soak Kleptus. However, she raised her hands to gesture but the words would not escape her mouth. It was as though that she had completely forgotten her basic acolyte training to invoke the favour of Calistria.
In that moment of stunned silence, Kleptus realized that the words that she wanted to speak were in his head, like a bee in a glass jar, buzzing around. He sang the last stanza again, and water did indeed gush from his hand again, although this time it wet the bed, much to the chagrin of the priestess.
Perhaps it was his indulgent upbringing, resulting in his belief of self-entitlement, coupled with the latent magic in his blood, allowed him to do so. The world would never know how, for Kleptus himself did not. Neither did he care. Somehow he got it but to him, all that mattered was that he had it. In fact, he felt that it was natural that he could steal spells, for just like everything he had in life, as long as he wanted it, he got it.
With this new awareness, he now craved something new that his caravan could not give – adventure. And so he bid farewell to his caravan and joined the Pathfinder Society.
And that would be the last his dear mother ever saw of him, for in his first adventure as a Pathfinder, the naïve Kleptus sought to show off his prowess to a beautiful summoner named Vex, and charged into a room full of undead.
STR 13
DEX 14
CON 12
INT 10
WIS 10
CHA 18
Class: Bard (Sandman Archetype)
[Everything else is irrelevant]
