Chris' Characters

Aubergen stares into the flames as he begins to tell his story.

Where did I grow up? Well, that's not the right question. The right question is where did I first exist. I don't remember growing up and the priests and clerics of Sarenrae believed that I was a creation of their goddess sent to herald the healing of magic and our world. That only lasted until they saw my body begin to fall apart with nothing anyone could do to halt it or even slow it. Up until that point they had lifted me up as a chosen one, or messiah, depending on who you spoke to. But when they saw that I couldn't save myself as my flesh failed me, turned against me and called me cursed one and deceiver.

If you ask the followers of Brigh, I must surely be a left over weapon from the Anima-Wars. A weapon to keep the troops going until the other side was decimated. And the decay that racks my body now is just the erosion of time finally taking its toll as it must on all things.

The lore masters of Nethys declare that I am obviously a living embodiment of magic come about through a random confluence of energies. I know not which I would rather have be true; all I know is that no one knows how I came to be and I don't really care how I came to be. All I care about is continuing to be. I've searched for the answers with many of the faithful of as many of the deities as I can find, but all I find are fanatics that spout their guesses and know less than I.

Where did I first exist? I don't know. What I first remember is waking up in an alley in the warrens of the worst part of Seddir. The first thing I saw was a mother weeping over her dying daughter. I didn't know of the concept of rape at the time, but I did know that the young woman in her arms was dying and I yearned to help her; that yearning manifested in an outpouring of energy from me, energy that revitalized the mother and closed her daughter’s wounds. Her daughter opened her eyes and at once I felt right. I knew at that moment that that is what I'm supposed to do. And it felt good.

It wasn't till weeks later after a particularly draining healing of a young child who had been gutted, that I first learned of the cost of my gift. As the child rose whole and everyone around us cried out in joy, my ring finger on my right hand fell off. The cries of joy turned into screams of horror and a desperate rush to get away from me.

From that point on I have had to constantly be on the move, lest religious zealots attempt to kill me, study me, or redeem me. Lest the common folk try to burn me at the stake. Lest the mercenary and ruthless attempt to capture me and turn me over to someone who would pay dearly for their own personal healer. And so I travel always in search of the answers to my continuing existence.

Hopefully I find it before my body falls into complete ruin.

Here's Aubergen's character sheet.

This is my back up character. Still working on his history's detail though I have a general idea in my head.