Keldrin Mortanis - Background

  • Early Life
    Keldrin was born a common peasant, just a regular boy to a pair of regular parents, in a village in cormyr who’s name has long since been wiped from the books of history, purged, they say, in the Orc wars gone by. He was a bright child, one of many talents and capabilities, who even in his younger years was forever solving puzzles, tactile and otherwise. He grew in peace - more or less - until he was three years old, and that is when the Orcs started to rampage through the neighbouring towns and villages. Keldrins village, however, was attacked by something else.

    Three men - Necromancers and followers of various dark gods plunged through the trees one fateful night, using the rampaging Orcs as a means to sneak in and expunge the life from the place, picking the corpses to fuel their own dark mission and leaving the place deserted mess. Keldrins Mother had hidden him under the floorboards moments before one of the men broke in and caused her to fall… And then rise again as his servent. The screaming, shouting and terror in his mothers voice pulled a sadness from his lungs, and before the man could finally leave, he paused, turning back around and searching the top floor - following the sound. He pulled up a loose board to find the infant, who stared up at him in fear as a vicious red energy crackled around his fingers. This, by all rights, should have been the End of Keldrin, but it wasn’t.

    As that flickering energy spell cascaded forward, Keldrin emitted a wail, and from his presence a globe of force projected outward, casting the spell back at the man and scarring his cheek in the process. The wound - instantly draining the life from the musculature in the area was permanent, and the man wore that wound ever since… But such a display of power from a child would not go unnoticed. The mages skeletal hand reached from his ropes to pluck the boy up from the scruff of his collar. Keldrin wanted to scream and cry… but he couldn’t… Couldn’t even move as the man dragged him off with the rest of his friends and relatives, paralysed to succumb to his fate.

    Keldrin spent the next twenty plus years with the men who had captured him, along with various other sorcerous pledges who showed promise. They trained vigorously, day and night. Those who wouldn’t keep up and died of natural sources simply rose again to fill the vicious horde of skeleton mages hedged beneath the ground. Keldrin was told his name was Keldrin Mortanis, and he was of house Mortanis, a legitimate noble house which served under the guise of lesser nobility to the common world, known and respected for their services in trading in spices, wines and foods, among adventuring equipment and similar sorts, along with serving as diplomats within several towns and stateships.

    Keldrins body underwent many changes. He was beat, whipped, tortured and poked both mentally and physically until the pain no longer hurt, and the fatigue no longer held him back. Discipline of mind and body, focus beyond focus, as any weapon would be, particularly one whose control of the weave revolved around control. By the time he was twenty eight, he had mastered the first circle of spells - a slow learner, they said to him, but they hadn’t disposed of him for one simple reason. His silver tongue was a rare blessing and would serve him, and house Mortanis well.

    The day came, once he had finally controlled negative energies and proved it to the three men, whom until now had not shared their name, where he finally was brought into the lower chambers of House Mortanis, and the darker side of their lore was revealed to him. Their plans, their wickedness, everything. These men were not just Necromancers… They toyed with the very nature of humanity and the damned, seeking to get as close to death as they could. Pale Masters, they called themselves, of three studious realms. One focused on Wraiths and claimed his goal was to experiment on the creatures and steal their abilities to become incorporeal at will, while maintaining the sanity of mind and presence of the living.

    His name was Darius Mortanis, a wicked, slender man, and the one who had found Keldrin that fateful day. Darius would prove to be Keldrins mentor for the foreseeable. The others favoured more traditional means of the lore they studied - self mummification and similar methods to enhance themselves, and often scoffed at Darius for his ridiculous plans… But there was a reason Darius lead the group… He was a shrewd man, a cunning, clever strategist and a ruthless, brutal mind capable of seeing a situation from all angles.

    Current Day
    Keldrin was sent free from House Mortanis with a task from Darius. The first and foremost was to expand on his power by any means. His use was limited and it would be difficult for Darius to protect him against his peers if he could not learn more spells faster. It was safer to throw him to the wind… But not before handing him some possessions. A cloak bearing the symbol of the dragon, a silver ring and some scrolls to assist his learning.

    The second task was to study ghosts and wraiths alike… Learn how to become closer to them, learn how they tick… find ways to entrap and interact with them physically. Become useful to his research, or the next time they met it would not be so friendly.

    Darius filled Keldrins coin pouch and told him to use the guise of house Mortanis to further his social standing - it was, after all, as far as anyone knew, a legitimate business and house of renowned. Keldrin left with those words and ventured far and wide… East, at first, guided by the woods, then the sea, and finally north into Narfell, where he dwells today in search of methods to further his potential, and that of his house.