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dumbfrickinlit · 5 years ago

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#sircius - #mainquest character

The sun has long since set when the frail figure hunched over the cluttered desk finishes paging through his 9th book for the evening. It’s another tome on rare herbal medicines, and it was no more helpful than the last one he’d barreled through roughly 30 minutes ago.

The elderly man - a tiefling named Sircius - fidgets in his chair and moves to seize the next book atop the tall stack sat on the floor next to him: an encyclopedia on rare and extraordinary curses. He spares no time as his hands move quick to peel open the pages and his eyes begin to fly across the text, intently observant of every key word or phrase which may be of interest to him.

While his eyes scrutinize the book’s contents, his concentration wanders elsewhere; and as if to punctuate the thought at the forefront of his mind, a ragged breath cuts the potent silence, and Sircius instantly turns his head to look at the younger man laying on the bed just a few feet from him.

His son’s face, as dormant as ever, greets him in return. And although his son, Malerus’ stirring has changed his appearance none, Sircius cannot help but worry if the brief disturbance - uncommon for his son - is a sign of something worse.

Something, he's beginning to worry, he may not be able to stop.

Profile.

Sircius Emberos. Male. 69 years old. School of Divination Wizard. Sage background. Tiefling. True-Neutral alignment. Character strengths: incredibly loyal and protective of those he truly cares about, lets knowledge and reason dictate his actions, cautious, intelligent. Character flaws: cold, distant, stubborn, holds a general disdain for those less intelligent than him, holds no regard for laws or morality when it comes to his interests and the safety of his loved ones.

Sircius Ebmeros and my experience playing him.

There’s perhaps more to Sircius Ebmeros and what he means to me than what lies on the surface.

He was my first-ever character - both for D&D and as a genuine “OC” for me to put actual time and effort into - and with him I really wanted to break the mold, as I knew he would make the first impression for what I could do as both a character conceptualizer and a roleplayer.

My honest perception is that most people gravitate towards starting with and/or playing characters who are very close to themselves in their own personality (which is not a bad thing at all; it offers a transition into roleplaying for those uninitiated to it, and for those with no priority or interest in roleplaying, it’s simply more fun for them); this is very much something I did not want to do. So instead of making my first character an unexciting, passive, amicable, and all-around-cooperative young human female - a definite and obvious reflection of myself - I decided to make Sircius: a temperamental, demanding, isolate, unsociable old tiefling -- who, on the upside, is incredibly smart and cares deeply about family. I decided when making him (and as I do for all characters I create) that every character has a problem, and Sircius’ would be his incredibly ill son. And as the campaign was already lacking a genuine problem to unite our characters, this gave our first chapter a goal: to find Sircius’ son Malerus a cure to his inscrutable disease. Along the way, Sircius Fireball’d a fellow party member, was shot in the kneecap by another, and was threatened more times that I can count about how he needed to behave and play nice with everyone else. So it probably goes without saying that playing Sircius can be exhausting. I constantly have to shut everyone out, turn away help, and pretend to be fine on my own when as a player and a character I know very well that I’m not. It’s difficult sometimes to remain true to Sircius’ character and instigate disagreements within the party, but I have always tried to do so with taste, and never so frequently as to call into question Sircius’ place in the group. Sometimes this means on the rare occasion sacrificing the integrity of the character (i.e. making a call that I’m not wholly convinced Sircius would do), but I find it absolutely necessarily for the continuation of the story. At the end of the day we are all here to play and adventure with each-other, and I would much rather try to reason Sircius into doing something he wouldn’t normally do than leave the party fractured or disbanded because I wanted to stay ~true to the character~. I mean, what kind of story would that be? Not a good one.

So I’m left playing a totally hard-headed, widowed husband, whose only family remaining is his deathly-ill son and a grandson hundreds of miles away from him. And as ridiculously painful as that might sound to play... I actually enjoy it. -- Most of the time, I really do. Some of my most cherished memories I have of D&D are the few deep conversations I’ve had as him with other characters. When someone has finally managed to crack Sircius’ shell it’s incredibly cathartic to let his more compassionate, vulnerable side show. And I’m immensely thankful for those moments because they make him feel like a genuinely likable character despite his obvious flaws - and not just some anal-retentive asshole that everyone has to put up with. Over time, Sircius became more and more palatable as a character as the events of the story unfolded. Eventually Sircius and the party obtained the “miracle cure” that they had sought out. They then returned to the tiefling’s home to revive the ill Malerus. Things did not work out as planned, however, as although the cure resuscitated his son, it also left him both in an essentially vegetative state and made him completely unreceptive to magic, basically making his new condition unquestionably and emphatically incurable.

Now, let me clear up before continuing any further that the result of the miracle cure was never intended by any of us or the DM to be what it was. The cure was always meant to succeed, but as a bit of fun on the DM’s part (I believe), two side-effects were added via rolling on Orrex’s Net Libram of Random Magical Effects. What was rolled was possibly the most depressing and horrifying result I can think of. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t cry when this all happened. Quickly realizing how grim of an outcome this was, the DM set to rectify this.

The unfortunate effects of the cure were kept canon (a reroll was never done, which in retrospect I would have appreciated), but instead of leaving Malerus (and by proxy, Sircius) to his exceptionally dark fate, a cleric - the father of one of the other party members, Eleniel, in fact - gave up his life in order to restore Malerus’. While I can appreciate this as it added drama to the story and changed Sircius’ character and his relationship with Eleniel, the unfortunate rolls on the Net Libram still leave a bad taste in my mouth to this day. It’s something I try to forget about - and often I leave it out of conversation concerning Sircius and the campaign because of how exceptionally dark it is. It’s a little to “real,” and for reasons that I’ll get to later, was very hard for me to accept when it originally happened.

But all of that aside, those events helped shape Sircius into who he is currently. With the full revival of his son, Sircius’ temperament cooled substantially and allowed him to possess and practice gratitude towards his fellow companions. It also gave myself narrative reason to keep Sircius in the story, which worked especially well in Chapter 2 when the party reunited to help Eleniel (whom Sircius now obviously owed after the sacrifice of her father). Because of this his character has developed and established itself well in my mind.

So, it’s probably crazy for me to say now that all of this - Sircius’ story and everything that he has theoretically ever been through - might change in the future. Crazy, maybe, but not unwelcome.

Mainquest is being heavily considered (and by “heavily considered” I mean basically approved but pending until we get around to it) for a “reboot” down the line. Various reasons have been cited; the most pertinent being the inconsistency of the party and DM (this is a campaign that’s seen 3 different players come and go and also had a DM switch starting in Chapter 2). The DM also seeks to refine and revitalize the story. For us, it’s the campaign that’s seen the most mess, so there’s an innate desire to redo it “right.”

Will this change Sircius as a character? Possibly. Will this change the events that shape him? Likely. But I’m ok with that. Actually, I’m looking forward to it. I enjoy the idea of getting a chance to play as Sircius again and to re-experience and refine his transition from unsociable recluse to.... well, someone tolerable, haha. I would even be up for a more somber take on Malerus’ arc.

You see, what I have neglected to acknowledge leading up to this point - and I suppose if you’ve bothered to read this far you have earned the right to know - is the inspiration for Sircius’ plight; something completely unintended by me until I realized it far too late.

And this is where it gets almost unnecessarily heavy, so feel free to back out here.

During the time I created and played Sircius, I was dealing with problems in my own life -- problems of a kind which I had never faced before.

I was struggling to cope with a friend’s (the very best friend I had at the time and perhaps will ever have) diminishing medical condition. ALS. We didn’t know at the time; a diagnosis was never made clear until months and months after things started unfolding. To us, she was just slowly losing her ability to do everything for no apparent reason. And it was exceptionally painful for me -- losing her, like that. Being there, but not. I couldn’t fathom the thought of people dying who were important to me -- especially someone who was so important to me as she was.

So it’s too disgustingly easy now for me to see the overlap between my life and Sircius’. The only thing that really separates us is how the story ends. Malerus got to live, and my friend eventually passed away. -- I guess Sircius was always meant to be the fantasy I could never have in reality.

Since then I’ve learned to cope, to appreciate my best friends’ life for what it was, and to try and let go. -- Very different from Sircius’ experience. But I’m starting to think that an alternative ending to Malerus’ story - with him passing away - wouldn’t be as bad as I originally thought. Would it be a hero’s story? No. Of course not. But Sircius could then serve as a conduit for something more important, I think.

Maybe. Maybe not. It could be an absolutely terrible idea. -- Also a hell of a lot of pressure on me and my DM to make it work. But I’d at least like to make note of it here: I am not so opposed to anti-stories as I once was.

And so that is my long-winded experience playing Sircius Ebmeros: the grouch of a tiefling who turned out to be something a little bit more. Perhaps he will change in the future in story and/or character, but for now, this is how he remains.

#d&d #sircius #character bio

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zi-tales · 7 years ago

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Interview: Phecda

1) Father

My mother sang praises of him. I had nothing to go off other than this. At the very least, I should have heard of him in my time living in Nashaba. Someone looking for my mother, asking what happened. Yet, I have heard nothing. Years of silence. I am under the impression perhaps he is too afraid to know the truth. A spineless fool like that never deserved my mother, and will not recieve any respect of mine. He could be dead for all I care.

2) Mother

Her name was Najma. In the village, she was an incredibly skilled huntress, and the one designated to travel to places like Nashaba or Alshuba and establish trading relationships. This made her worldview much broader, and thus much more dangerous. The village was always hellbent on maintaining tradition, and keeping things as they were without outside influence. And yet, my mother respectfully continued to push this conviction, always bringing medicine, or magics, or what have you even at risk of trouble. Beyond this, she was a trainer for the village militia, apparently known as a skilled duelist for years. So, yes, my mother was an intrepid woman, and an incredible fighter. I only hope to be as accomplished.

3) Childhood

My childhood was full of isolation and self-restraint to not interact much. My mother's story for me was being an adoptee from the dunes, and to hide the fact that my ears were the only real tell for my abnormal status. Since the risk of someone noticing such a distinct trait was very high, I had to live mostly alone. This did not bother me much, as I accepted it as a norm eventually. My mother insisted we would move away at some point, so I shouldn't bond with anyone strongly. Until I was... I am unsure. 15? 14, perhaps? I believed it would happen easily. At around that time, I was made aware of our village's distinct xenophobic tendencies, after the subject never appearing until then. That was when I realized the implication of my existence, and when I began to question things. This prompted my mother to accelerate what training she could of vocational things like hunting and fighting, although she didn't manage to do it enough before I slipped up. Perhaps I am rambling a bit. Things happened so long ago, and it is a... A haze.

4) Hometown

My mother's actions and presumed death seemed to have caused a large rift between people within the village. She was influential due to her role as the sole link to the outside world, and without her, the connections fostered were severed. While I was expecting a decline from this, I did not expect self-destruction. No one seems to want to talk about what happened to my mother, either, so I cannot even say for certain that she perished the night I fled. I simply assume so, so I do not spend the trances distracted. It was not somewhere I would call home, regardless. Most people kept their distance from one another, and it was a place of quiet reverence and obeying the law. I cannot say I miss it.

5) Time as an Assassin

The Asterius League was truly a band of interesting folk. Individuals like Arista and Eltanin used to be such... Role models, I suppose? To see them fall so far... It continues to disturb me. We trained with a distinct intimacy that bonded us together as contract killers with meaning, with purpose. Constant reminders that we were not murderers, but forces by which to shape the nation, guided by the many sources of influence. I hardly see killing as a sport, but it comes close. It is an art form, in a way. Every combat is a blank canvas waiting to be used, to observe every detail of the opponent. To kill perfectly, with grace and professionalism. These tenants separated us from the shady, unwashed masses within the Ahlbaali. Anyone can kill for money. We could kill with unparalleled expertise. There were elders, instructors, and acolytes as the organizational structure. My mentor and the man who took me in from the dunes was Errai, an expert marksman and venerable warrior. He taught me everything my mother didn't, like the hidden elegance of Common, how to infiltrate, and anything else that assisted being a true killer. Although, he despised the title of killer. It was far too inelegant for what we were doing. Am I rambling again? Please, let me know. I do not often talk of these subjects, and it can get very messy for me.

6) Transitioning to normal life

Frankly, I was hardly an assassin. I hadn’t ascended ranks past acolyte, which usually gave you the authority to actually take assignments independently. I had taken support roles in contracts with veterans like Errai, but I was not truly an assassin. Simply trained in the disciplines of one. Regardless, losing the Derelict as my home and being alone did force me to carve out a name for myself in Nashaba almost immediately, although contacts of Errai’s recognized me and helped as best they could to establish me as a mercenary or courier. From then, it was a matter of self-sufficiency and living day to day in the organized chaos of the Ahlbaali capital. I was used to the culture already, only had to adjust to the lack of companions and the discrimination behind being a half-elf. People don’t trust knife-ears as much, I suppose. At least I’ve rectified that these days.

7) Sircius

Ebmeros is innately a good man, despite some shrewd behavior and hot-headed mannerisms. Truly, I have never met a man with more insistence on hiding his own nature than Ebmeros. He is clearly a father at heart, and yet, refuses to let this out due to what I can only assume to be fear of attachment. His fixation on what he can lose seems to be almost overwhelming, although I suppose coming from myself, I cannot begin to criticize this. I have lost what I can, and simply seek retribution. He still stands to suffer, but I intend to stand by him to prevent that as long as I can. Other than this, the ferocity by which he commands his offensive magic is incredible, if only ever disappointing when attempts to put individuals to sleep consistently fails.

8) Roc

A warrior from another time that I incidentally discovered in an Ahlbaali ruin. I can say I have thought of many things to find within the dunes, but a companion is not one of them. The apparent pain of her history forces me to be cautious when I feel a need to inquire about it, as I am one who prefers privacy of those matters myself. Nonetheless, as it does not interfere with her ability as a fighter, I do not plan to push the subject. That being said, I am highly curious what possible circumstances could lead to such a state of being, and wonder myself how I will eventually cope with being in my own accursed state upon expiry. I should consider asking Roc about that, ah?

9) Eleniel

Eleniel... I hope she realizes what she is capable of. Her capacity for goodness is matches only by her desire to martyr herself in the name of personal redemption, to the point where it can be easily construed as suicidal tendency. I worry for her. Eleniel is proof to me that there are indeed selfless individuals in this world, and how dangerous such a devotion to those ideals is. While I cannot say I envy any such obligation, nor can I begin to comprehend the mental fortitude necessary to constantly seek charitable action, I respect her unerring faith in her dogma. It is a rarity in these times, truly.

10) Herself

What do I think of myself? What an odd question. I do not reflect on myself often. To do so feels vain, and my time would likely be spent better elsewhere. I suppose I am... Learning to be normal. So long have I been accustomed to being a wolf of sorts. Everything is a potential meal. I have to negotiate, push myself, ignore pleasantries. Efficiency, displays of skill, et cetera. I live every moment to advance as a person, or something of that nature. And now, I do not know. I continue to try and socialize, which is incredibly alien to me. I have much to learn yet still, clearly. The killing arts should not be all that matters in this life.

11) The Future

I am unsure. I seek to hone my skill with a bow to an impeccable fault, at the least. Perhaps even with a blade, if I can balance my practice that well. Perhaps I am to find a worthy successor to the Umbra? Re-establish the Asterius League once I’ve killed the remnants? Or maybe, I go back to Nashaba, and return to my humble life in the sands? Options wax and wane in appeal always. Nothing ever goes to plan anyway. For all I know, I may learn to romance someone, and I settle down and start a family like Belzer and Veii. I merely hope I am not alone in all of it.

12) The Vermilion King

Normally, I would not put him under concerns of mine. His dogma and apparent ambitions seem to fall more in line with something the churches should combat, not someone like me. But, he holds Eltanin in his employ, which speaks to his shrewdness. On that virtue, I seek the Serpent’s head, and so I may as well help topple this Vermilion King’s schemes. As for him as an opponent... I generally don’t fear dying. He is no exception. Whatever bleeds can die, and if he is a being of blood, then the statement remains relevant all the same.

13) The Umbra

The Umbra is, in short, mine. Only mine. I would not hand it off willingly to anyone unless I believe they will wield it responsibly. The latent power in this bow cannot be underestimated in the slightest. It burrows deep into your soul. Like cruel tendrils that drill into your heart, feeding off of you, but pulsing energy back. We are one. A single entity whose bond continues to grow stronger. It is strange, surely, and I am well aware it will devour me in the end, but... It is not evil, necessarily. It feels akin to an animal. Its instinct is to keep its wielder alive, and only devour them when they no longer matter. If this is my fate, so be it. As long as I make it worthwhile, I have no issues with a cursed death.

14) Malerus I only hope we do not have to tamper with such dangerous materials ever again. Resurrection is one thing, sacrifice is another. Rellus should not have had to make that decision.

#d&d

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