• I had a name once -- long ago. Had many things, a family, a life -- but all of that is now gone, and so too then is that name. From my life I recall a word that meant rogue in some tongue with origins I cannot remember. Xhosa, it was; and that is what you can call me now. Xhosa...

    Race? Once long ago I was a man, brass and bold -- full of weakness and doubt. Now they call me Forsaken, though not long ago I was considered part of the Undead. You tell me…what am I? I gave up trying to understand.

    Class? I have none -- never had… but I jest, for I am a rogue. Not just a back-stabbing throat cutter like so many others, no, I deal in blades, and in wit.

    Age is difficult for me to calculate, and so; let us speak merely in lifetimes… That would make this my third lifetime then. I was young, relatively speaking, when my life was taken... then I was old during my time with the Undead, and now, I feel young again -- if that makes any sense.

    Brief Physical Description? hmm, well... I would like to call myself so many things; yet most of all I am a shadow in the moonlight, the rustle of grass behind you, the p***k on the back of your neck when you wake suddenly from slumber. A rogue needn’t worry about a face, though I can say that mine was once fair...

    Brief Personality Description…I am quiet though I love to speak. Living, and un-living for this long has left me jaded, mistrusting, and sinister at best. A rogue must be quick to slice your throat, and quicker still to freeze you in your tracks with a well placed word.

    Goals and motivation? What goals can I have in undeath? What motivations can befall upon a rogue made of bones and rotted flesh? Murder, death, betrayal; all things I know much about. But a goal? If I were to choose a goal, I think it would be redemption. Not from this plague that has decayed my body, not from aligning myself with evil... No; self-redemption through my own designs, that’s a motivation that suits me.

    A typical quote? I suppose you can take this with you; "A knife may cut to the bone, but a word will cut to the quick". Handle it with care though, for I'll more than likely come at you cutting and slicing then with a word or two.

    History? Now there’s a tale to tell…three lifetimes worth of stories, too long to share I should think. The part that led me here is Mina. I killed them, all of them. Roamed the land after my release from my bindings to evil, and when I found her -- I tried, I swear it I did. Away from me they did cringe in terror; the children. Even Mina, my sweet wife... Mina begged me to leave. I stood in the entry to my own home and cried, unable to shake the vision of their fear from my eyes. When I shut them, I could see her smiling -- but when I opened my eyes… In a fit, I cut my own eyes out in front of my family so that I might never see their tears again, and when I was finished and realized that by some curse I could still see, I silenced her forever with my dagger.....



    Why, I am only me... A rogue always takes the blame.