Portenticus! ... *thunderclap*
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Every more or less just and reasonable community has its share of undesireables and Jiyyd is not so unique, not so potentially utopian to be an exception. The filthy collection of grime-encrusted rags and sallow patches of skin which calls itself Portenticus proves the rule.
It is impossible for any to say when exactly he arrived (save for those, like Portenticus, who claim to have supernatural insight into such matters.) Like a spreading stain in the corner of a closet, he did not so much arrive one day as garner rankling notice from the citizenry. His voice, once well matched with the catcalls of a dozen other beggars and drunkards, now soars over and past the din to the ears of those who will listen to his raspy, sometimes slurred promises. In any case, it is safe to say that he has existed for some time within the town proper. Certainly he knows the best ditches in which to sleep and best vantage points from which to howl.
When he is very, very drunk, Portenticus will sometimes speak of himself in a less contrived, less theatrical manner than his usual cant. When one is fortunate enough to catch him in this state (which is only so rare as one might expect from a beggar) it becomes clear that he is either completely delusional or has spent a good deal of time in the presence of sights that never should have been seen, knowledge that should never have been learned, and entities that should never have existed in the first place. Most, naturally, are inclined to believe the former. Others catch a hint of the utmost truth in the midst of his ramblings and find themselves chilled.
Recently, he has taken to being a prophet and will vehemently insist that he has a great deal of foresight where dark futures and slim chances are concerned. For a coin, he claims that he can consult the fates and divine the future. For five coins and a bottle of gin (and as long as it does not keep him overmuch from the Regal Whore) he will put himself to the service, either practical, magical, or metaphysical, of any who hire him. He is assuredly a wizard of some stripe, but he will speak neither of who tutored him or whether he belongs to one of the innumerable magical factions across the world of Faerun. In fact, he usually will speak nothing more of magic than a firey hiss to the effect that nobody really understands what it is to weave the arcane, that damned wizards and bloody sorcerers and bardic fools and priests and paladins and druids, which is to say all peoples of any magical aptitude whatsoever, do not comprehend with what forces they meddle, and finally that he, Portenticus, surely does.
Currently, he can be forcibly roused in the gutter outside the Regal Whore if his services are required, or if his bar tab is overdue, or if the idle guardsmen of Jiyyd choose to persecute him (as they sometimes do) with slanderous claims of magical fraud.
((EDIT: Name - Portenticus; Login - Omniguy ))
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Reviewed, XP pending
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Done.
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Please edit in your character name and login i.d.
