Viktor Delmark

Seeker of the Shattered Isle

Description:

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Last Update: 05/01/16

HALF-ELF ROGUE 10
Chaotic Good

AC 24 (T15/FF21); HP 72
Init +7; Listen +13, Search +18 Spot +16
Fort +8, Reflex +13, Will +8
Base Atk +7/ +2; Grp +8; Speed 30
Str 12 Dex 16 Con 14 Int 19 Wis 15 Cha 16


Weapon(s): Sol’nae’ri Blade, Masterwork Composite Shortbow [Str + 1]
Armor: +1 Chain Shirt
Special Items: Ghost Blade, Acrobat Boots, Captain’s Medallion, Gray Stone Ring, Gilded Compass, Cloak of Resistance +1, Gloves of Dexterity +2


Feats: Improved Initiative, Nimble Fingers, Weapon Finesse, Shielded in Life
Team Feats: Tactician, Chain Attack
Skills: Disable Device +19, Hide +10, Move Silently +11, Open Locks +18
Skill Mastery: Climb, Disable Device, Open Locks, Search, Spot, Tumble & Escape Artist.
Abilities: Immunity to sleep effects, +2 racial bonus to saves vs. enchantments, Elven Blood, Low-Light Vision, Sneak Attack 5d6, Trapfinding, Evasion, Trap Sense +3, Uncanny Dodge, Improved Uncanny Dodge
Languages: Common, Dwarven, Elven, Goblin, Abyssal
Current XP: 50,344


Persephia’s Revelation:
You are the last of House Sol’nai’ri and destined to restore this blade.

Bio:


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It was not me, sir. I was predisposed at the time. What?! You can’t arrest me! Do you know who I am? My father is Count Vladimir Delmark.” The guards didn’t fall for my very convincing performance. Apparently my reputation precedes me. I guess I’ll be spending another night in a cell. I have only been in Atherton for three days. It usually takes at least a week before I end up in the city jail. At least they will probably feed me.

Pardon my terrible manners; my name is Victor Delmark at least that is what I call myself. I was abandoned as an infant in Durmast and have no idea who my parents are. I just know one of them is an elf and one it a human.

Herman the man who took me in taught me the things I needed to know to survive. He used to say “Ya do what ya gotta do. If that means ‘borrowing’ something or selling something that isn’t yours, then so be it.” He taught me how to “borrow” things and who to sell them to. He also taught me a how to use a sword and how to use my smarts and agility to avoid getting it “in da gut” as he would say. Herman or “The Sledge,” that’s what everyone called him, wasn’t the most upstanding guy. It’s hard to live with someone you can’t trust. I don’t trust anyone. So, when I was thirteen, I up and left. I’m sure no tears were shed and I doubt “The Sledge” lost any sleep over my departure.

For the next couple years I didn’t do so well. I’m not proud of it, but I had to do a lot of begging for food and shelter. Then, I was captured outside Durmast by a group of brigands in the Grogan Forest and the made into their lackey.

I was really a slave. I did pretty much whatever was asked of me. Until one night, I finally had enough of their constant reticule and abuse. I snuck into the Joldol’s tent and slit his throat. He was the leader of the loathsome lot. Then, I snuck into each of his lieutenants tents and slit their throats as well. It was easy they never saw it coming. They never saw me as a threat. Oh, I also stole all of their gold and gems. I made a pretty good haul. I made a decision that night that no one was ever going to push me around again and if they did I was going to make them pay.

I went back to Durmast and bought clothes, armor, weapons, and some miscellaneous thing for my new life as a “rogue extraordinaire”. I went to the river and washed myself up and changed into my new attire. I bounced around from town to town (Margate, Dungar, Alborz, you name it) for awhile. At each town I tried to make my presence known and hoped that the townsfolk would not notice that their purses were lighter after I left. Sometimes they notice, like today.

I made a pretty good living for awhile. Along the way I met a few almost trust worthy people. Like the time I met Grol. Ah, but I digress, that is a story for another time.

Anyway the other day I decide that I was going to go to “the big city” the largest city that I know of and the first place that came to mind was Atherton, our capital city. I was tired of this small time stuff I wanted a bigger piece of the pie. Well you can see where that got me. It is late I should rest.

I got lucky. They are letting me go with a warning. I guess they couldn’t prove anything. I think I will head for a smaller town. That is where I earn my bread and butter. More predictable, less profit but predictable.

I have been wandering the roads for days and I finally found the perfect mark… I mean place to settle down for awhile. I will get the people to trust me and then take them for everything they have. I head for the nearest inn, Olmstead House and order a mulled wine. I also got a room for a couple nights and decided to sit in the common room contemplating my next move.

As I was sitting there enjoying my wine I noticed a group of individuals sitting at a table across the room. They seemed to be discussing something. I decided to go over and introduce myself.

I walked up in a flourish and said, “Greetings, fine fellow travelers, let me introduce myself I am Victor Delamark, rogue extraordinaire.” Finishing with a dramatic bow. “What brings you to this quaint little farming town?”

They proceeded to tell me they were an adventuring group looking for new members. I just happened to fit one of their needs. And that brings us to the present. Let the adventure begin…

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Viktor’s Goodbye


The day is cool but fair with a few wintery flurries, reminding you that winter is not quite over. Arris Mennes hooks up the last of the dogs to the sleds and is preparing for a morning departure. You met the seasoned guide at dawn outside Dunkeld’s Anvil Inn. No one came to say goodbye or see you go. Few know what the Seekers did to save Dunkeld. King Marcan has been markedly absent – holed away in his Citadel mourning his sister’s death.

Moradin gives Viktor a customary shove as the dwarf loads his gear into one of the sleds, but the rogue just stands there lost in his thoughts. The dwarf is about to give Viktor another shove for good measure when Rykson walks swiftly over and intervenes, “Viktor, where is your gear? I can help you load it.”

“I sold it,” Viktor curtly responds. The halfling says nothing but nods in understanding as Moradin looks down at the ground, wiping his nose. They knew this day was coming, just not when.

Creed, stepping out of the Anvil Inn, glances first at Rykson, then at Moradin, and finally at Viktor. The cleric’s gaze is penetrating and his words direct, “So this is it, Viktor, had enough of this business?” At Creed’s words, Tudor, seated nearby, suddenly looks up as if realizing the gravity of the moment, and places the book he was studying on the bench. Sadness touches the wizard’s face as he slowly rises, “Is this true, Viktor?”

Viktor places a hand on Moradin’s shoulder and takes a hard swallow, steeling himself for what he is about to say. “Yes, Tudor, I’ve had enough of this business. Ever since that damn nhir’gan gutted Sledge and beat me to a bloody pulp, nothin’s been the same. I have nightmares, my hands shake… I’m… afraid. Ya know, but not for me, I’m afraid of screwing some shit up and gettin’ you all killed. I can’t take it. I sold my gear, got some coin, and plan to stick around Dunkeld for a bit, then maybe book passage down to Throne. I think I have some cousins there, anyway.” Rykson smiles, “Sold all your gear, Viktor? What is that?” Viktor taps the rapier at his side and gives a rare, heartfelt smile. “For protection, my friend, for protection.”

As the Seekers leave Dunkeld, Viktor doesn’t wait to wave goodbye, nor does he say it. Turning, Moradin looks back but Viktor has already disappeared into the forming crowds. Kongo gives a mournful howl that echoes across the plains of the Nairn Blair.

Viktor Delmark

Myyth Realm: Legacy Tralen