The first -and most important - step is done, i.e. a snazzy hat.
Talked to gunin about starting with dark magic as I'm going that route.
Otherwise I have anima as a mage trainee and promptly forget how to anima as soon as I promote, learning dark magic instead.
Name: Marlowe
Age: ?
Affinity: ?
Char spec skill: Centre
pf: Antithesis: -15 eva against priests and their promotions.
ps: Rigor Mortis: When over 50% HP, +2 def
Class: trainee mage -> shaman -> summoner
Weapon Skill: Dark (E)
Starting Weapon: Worm
Preferred Stats: Magic, Skill
Special: ---
Promotes To: Mage, Monk, Shaman
Base Stats:
HP 17 (40%)
STR 2 (10%) (+2=4)
MAG 5 (70%)
SKL 4 (40%)
CON 3
AID 2
LUK 2 (10%)
DEF 0 (70%) (+2=2)
RES 3 (30%)
SPD 4 (60%)
MOV 4
Inv
Name | Type ( ) | Rng | Wt | Mt | Hit | Cr | Ql
Worm | Dred (E) | 1-2 | 7 | 6 | 80 | 6 | 40
Vulnerary 3/3
With Worm:
Mt: 5+6 = 11
Hit: 80+2 +1 = 83
AS: 4 - (7-3) = 0
Eva: 2
Crt: 8
Dg: 2
Regens 4 HP a round
Bio: The man who would be Marlowe was born with a different name - to the village he would later take his name from. He no longer remembers where the village was located - or indeed, what country. When he was a young boy, a terrible plague swept through the village, wiping it out almost to the man. Suddenly, abruptly alone, he joined the priesthood, hoping to prevent such a tragedy occurring again.
It didn't take him long to become disheartened. He had no talent for light magic. One day, he sneaked into the library of forbidden texts, and his mind was opened. He stole several vile tomes and left in the night.
He started with the notion of bringing back his village. He delved into the dark and forbidden arts, but could never bring back anything other than mindless puppets. It was then he realised he'd developed a sickness - a tumour growing within his flesh. His time was running out. He shifted his aims to immortality, and somewhere along the way restoring his village fell out of his priorities.
He created potent items that scorned death as much as they scorned life, wicked and powerful cursed items, dark tomes and devil weapons, and selling them filled his coffers with gold and his tower with henchmen and apprentices. Finally, immortality was within his grasp... but in seizing it, he seized a curse.
The phylactery he crafted granted him, but at a grand price: his very being. Losing enough of his memory to taunt Marlowe with the gaps, Marlowe lost his power and was soon usurped by his apprentices, barely escaping with his life. His apprentices torn themselves apart struggling for dominance, and whoever rules his tower now doubtless would like him dead.
Now, he constantly feels the chill of death, having lost all he had. He does not eat or drink, but is sustained by the deaths of others nearby. His flesh is always cold to the touch, and hardened against the blows of axe and sword.
A matter of mild annoyance to him is that he has a very feminine appearance, and many assume he is a woman at first glance... until he sternly corrects them, that is.
He carries his phylactery with him under his robes: without it he would surely perish in short order.