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Devos Elkin - Fall of He-Oat, Rise of The Hand

Devos Elkin is a 23 year old human who has experienced multiple life changing traumas and despite the incredible mental scarring, managed to elude psychosis and joined a small yet successful assassins guild called “The Hand”

Devos really enjoys the mystical arts, specifically those found in the school of illusion. Though not magically inclined himself, Devos often finds himself reading about magic, collecting scrolls when he can and won’t pass up an opportunity to have a lengthy discussion with a Wizard, Witch, sorcerer or  the occasional merchant of magical wares.

Devos absolutely loves the music of bards, and at an early age dreamt of attending a bardic college somewhere. Though fate had a different plan, Devos loves to spend time at the local taverns, drinking a glass of wine and paying whatever bard he can find to sings songs of the old.  

Devos has consistent jarring visions of the past, when orcs had raided his village and killed his parents. This plague has grown into an violent obsession of hatred toward those with orcish genes. Although normally charismatic and slow to anger, Devos has a strong “attack first, and ask questions later” policy. Devos enjoys harvesting the tusks of the orcs he kills, and craving them into trinkets; such as cornucopias or unicorn miniatures.

From a young age, Devos has had a terrible allergy to nuts.  Though Devos enjoys many foods that require various nuts for texture or flavoring, just touching the oils they secrete sends him into a deadly state of severe Anaphylactic shock. To combat accidental poisoning, Devos has kept a cure light wounds potion in his satchel at all times.

To Devos, The Hand is everything. The guild and its members are his family and he has an undying loyalty for it. After years of work and dedication, Devos has gained the honor of leading the guild, and although it is small and rather unconnected, Devos plans on making The Hand known throughout the world, as the largest, most powerful guild in the history of the planet.

Though he makes most of his coin through assassination contracts from his guild, Devos loves the art of thievery and often practices sleight of hand on anyone who looks like they can spare a few coins. Rarely keeping valuables for himself, Devos often places the coins he gathers from his thievery in the pockets of poorer looking civilians or anyone down on their luck. The higher quality Valuables go directly to The Hand’s vault where the guilds fence then sells it off to fill the guilds coffers.

About twenty miles outside of The Fortress “The Hands main base” lies a dark, mysterious cavern that a tribe of animalistic reptilian humanoids called kobolds, lead by a vicious, yet charismatic kobold who’s name is nearly Unpronounceable  to those who do not speak draconic but The Hand refers to him as “Bradly” These kobolds have a peace treaty with The Hand, where in return for the guilds protection, The Kobold tribe, among other things, grows food and bottles water for The Hand. Once a week, three operatives, usually including Devos go and meet Bradley, to talk and obtain the food and water. Although the truce is an uneasy one, Bradley and Devos get along swimmingly and often spend hours talking about nothing at all. Devos sees these reptilian savages as his second family.

I love bards, they’re music and personalities are amusing to me.
I find dwarves hard to be around. They’re burly nature irks me.
Although I’m not much of a drinker, I prefer aged wine to ale.
Roast rabbit, carrot biscuits and potatoe soup is my favorite meal.
I’m allergic to walnuts.

The story of Devos


The bright summer sun beat down on the small fishing village of He-oat, the smell of fish irradiating heavily in the air. Tobias Elkin, the village leader sat outside his hut on a large oak stump, gutting a very large looking trout while his wife, Eleanor, bathed their 8 year old son in the lake. 

Tobias grew up here, and was respected among the population, while Eleanor came from a more sophisticated upbringing with a bright future but falling in love with a common villager ruined all that. 

“The sun will set in a few hours,” Tobias spoke in his deep voice “Will everything be ready for tomorrow’s celebration?” Eleanor looked up with her sparkling blue eyes “Yes darling, everything will be ready” she responds while wrapping her son up in a blue died blanket. A few hours passed while Tobias and Eleanor finished their daily tasks. The sun began to set over the hill in the horizon and the villagers all returned to their homes. 

Not a second after the town was engulfed by the dark of night, the booming sound of drums shook the village with such vicious ferocity. Tobias ran to the window as Eleanor grabbed their son. Outside, ear curdling screams arose from all directions, and people ran two and fro. Suddenly, the door to the hut fell to the ground as three burly orcs walked in. The stench of rotting wood filled the air as the orcish monstrosities charged at Tobias and Eleanor. 

Tobias, using his incredible quick wit, grabbed a glass wine bottle and smashed it against the wall, holding the neck of the bottle, creating a makeshift dagger. He ushers his wife and son behind him as the three orcs loom over them. “I love you.” He whispers as the first orc charged, Tobias managed to slip out of the way and with cat like reflexes brought the broken bottle to the orcs neck, the sheer momentum of the orc charging allowing the bottle to tear through the orcs thick flesh. The orc grabbed his throught, and dropped to his knees. Green blood sprayed in every direction as Tobias brought the bottle back up and shoved it into the back of the orcs skull.

 “Come on you ugly fucks.” Tobias growled at the other two orcs. The two orcs pulled out shortswords and snarled, filling the air with the most rancid smell. Tobias quickly picked up the short sword off the dead orc and pointed it at the other two. The first orc charged, bringing down the sword above Tobias head with a mighty cleave, but Tobias managed to parry the steel with a grunt. Before the orc could recover, Tobias rolled out of the way, bringing the steel of the shortsword across the orcs heel, causing the orc to fall. “No more games!!” The Orc growled, and charged at Tobias, Swung his shortsword at the human but stopped in mid attack, and brought up his giant knee into Tobias crotch. Tobias fell to the ground in pain, holding his groin. And with a powerful thrust, the orc shoved his sword right into to chest of Tobias. He fell to the ground as the other orc whimpered in agony. The other orc walked up to his wounded friend and quickly, without hesitation, snapped his neck. “Weak.” The orc whispered as he turned his attention to Eleanor and the boy. Eleanor knew she could not fight off the hulking beast before her but she had to try. She quickly grabbed a vial of blue liquid from above the mantle and dumped its contents into her mouth. Eleanor’s face shined bright with magic and a thick blue beam of icy cold energy shot from her mouth, fully engulfing the orc in its mist. When the dust settled the orc had been frozen solid, and Eleanor had been thrown against the wall, her skin a deathly shade of blue. “Son,” she said weakly “you must run, run as fast as you can, and don’t stop until you can run no longer”

The boy hugged his mother one last time, as tears cascaded down his cheeks. With a deep breath, the boy kissed his mothers cheek and sprinted toward the door. The once quaint, peaceful village was now in flames, countless orcs roamed about, carrying anything from limp, lifeless humans to bags and crates of supplies. The boy knew that getting out of He-oat was going to difficult, but his parents gave their lives so he could try. The boy darted from the front door into a shadow covered haystack just as a large orc sporting two hand axes sprinted past. The boy peeked out of the haystack and once the coast was clear sprinted to the edge of town. As the adrenaline coursed through his veins and his heart pounded in his ears, the boy focused on his footsteps. “1...2…” “Hey, Stop” roared a deep voice “3...4…” “Catch the child!” Demanded a raspy voice “5...6…” The boy past the last blazing hut and the tree line covered the dark horizon “Krigore, sick em!” Boomed another voice “7… 8…” The unmistakable sound of a sprinting animal was catching up with the boy. “9… 10…” Whatever the beast was, is now snapping at the boys heels “”11…” A giant, ugly, four legged monstrosity tackled the boy, bringing its face right up to his and growling loudly. Large yellow teeth purturded out of the beasts mouth as it opened up to bite the boy. Suddenly an arrow Pierced through the air, swirling through the sky, landing directly into the bloodshot eyeball of the beast. The beast collapsed on top of the boy, almost crushing him. The last thing he saw before the darkness consumed his consciousness was a lone figure of top of the hill, with the wind blowing through the trees behind him. The mysterious figure knocked another arrow and shot it, and then the world went black.

When the boy awoke, he did not remember much. The sun shined bright above him, and the smell of pine tree sap filled the air. Across from him sat a man, quite a bit older than him in heavy looking armor. The man looked to be skinning a squirrel, but stopped once he saw the boy looking around. “Hello,” He began “Don’t be scared, I only want to help.” The boy was skeptical, “Where am I?” The man stood up, grabbed a dirty leather satchel and pulled out some dried meat, and handed it to the boy. “About 2 day journey from your town, you were out cold for quite some time. I’m not much of a healer, but I managed to fix those broken ribs.” The boy groaned as he tried to stand on his stiff legs. The boy was silent for awhile, pondering his situation. “What do I call you?” The boy asked “My name is Dion, Dion Lattermer. What’s your name.” “Devos.” “Well Devos, it is very nice to finally meet you.” Dion sits back down and continues to skin the squirrel. “What do we do now?” Devos asked “Well, that is a good question. You are an orphan now, my boy. So I guess what you do next is up to you. There’s a city about a weeks journey to the west, orphanage hall would surely take you in. Have you sweep the floors for bread and what not. Or you could South, if your smart, set up a little hideaway. Live off the land for a bit.” He pauses as a little smirk crawls across his face “or you could come with me? Help me cure this world of the evil that plagues it, I could teach you how to swing a sword, how to catch food so your belly is never empty, and one day maybe become my successor.” The boy smiled, for he knew that though his past life was gone, his new life was just beginning. 
Devos quickly learned that this man was very skilled, and reminded him of his father in many ways. Dion called himself a “Hunter” but the game that he tracked was a little different than anything killed in a traditional hunt. Over the next few years, Dion taught Devos many things; How to find and follow tracks, skin and cook animals, shoot a bow, wield a sword, ride a horse and much more. 

Their travels took them across the land, exterminating Orc Tribes, kobold nests, goblin dens and the occasional giant. One crisp autumn day, a few days before Devos’ 14th birthday, a very wealthy noble hired Dion and Devos to clear out a cavern that reeked of necromantic energeies. So they geared up and headed to the mouth of the cave. Upon entering, the temperature immediately dropped, cold air surrounded their bodies and the smell of rotting flesh filled their nostrils. 

The halls were “deathly” quiet and even more so empty. Until they came to a large cavern the size of a cattle pen. On the far end was a pile of straw, a desk with parchments scattered across, potions and crystals on shelves. Devos and Dion walked up to it, inspecting what they’ve found. “Doesn’t seem like anything’s here eh?” Devos said quietly “I’ve seen this before, just keep your eyes peeled. I don’t think we’re alone here”  Suddenly the ground shaked beneath their feet and out of the rocky ground rose 6 skeleton like creatures with four arms and razor sharp horns. 

Devos and Dion both pulled out obsidian maces, and charged at the creatures. Each fell almost instantly after being hit, until only two remained. Sinister laughing echoed through the halls, and with a puff of dark smoke, a tall shadowy figure in a thick ragged cloak appeared in front of Dion. Dion swung his mace at the figure, and the figure side stepped out of the way, raising his hand, causing a thick stream of sickening green liquid to shoot out of his arm like a firehose. Dion rolled out of the way, and swiped one more time with his weapon, the figure disappeared and reappeared behind Dion, grabbing the back of his neck and letting out a terrible cackle. Dions eyes went blank and his body limp, as black lines spiderwebbed across the back of his skull, making the skin around it dark. Dion gasped for breath, and twitched as Devos finished off the last of the skeleton monsters. Devos pulled out a scroll, and chanted the incantation written upon it. A burst of blinding bright white light shot out of the scroll, and the cloaked figure began to screech, smoldering until it was nothing but a small pile of ash. Dion hit the ground with a thud, as Devos sprinted to his limp body. “No, no, no” Devos began to tear up “You can’t die, you just can’t.” Dion opened his mouth to speak, but the words were too light to hear. “What Dion, say something” Dion opened his mouth once more and said “I love you my boy” before his head fell back, and his soul left this world.

Devos went back to the wealthy noble and got paid. He was distraught and alone once more, but he knew how to take care of himself. Devos walked to the closest tavern and bought a round of ale for everyone, out of respect for his lost friend. Late that night, Devos walked out of the tavern. The moon was full and bright against the starry sky, and a cool breeze blew through the town. The streets were empty, and quiet. Out of the corner of his eye, Devos saw a figure running across the world rooftops, and instinctively traced the path with his finger. Acting quickly, Devos managed to get ahead of the figure, and saw it slide down the chimney of a local house. Copying the same movements, Devos managed to slide down the same brick chimney and landed quietly in the well decorated living room of a local merchant. Devos looked around and saw the figure sneak into the next room, so he followed. The figure stood above the bed, with the sleeping merchant sprawled out on top. The figure pulled out a dart and filled it with a shimmery blue liquid, but before he could inject the merchant with it, devos pulled out a dagger and threw it. It spiraled through the air, impaling the figures hand, and trapping him against the wall. The sleeping merchant rolled over facing the wall. Devos walked up to the figure and with one strong motion, ripped off the figures cloak. Standing there, writhing in pain was a young elf with bright red eyes and dark skin. “Do not move” Devos said sharply, and the Elf smiled. With a quick motion the elf ripped his hand free of the dagger, while pulling his own from his belt. Swiping it through the air and across Devos chest.  Devos stepped back, wincing in pain, before pulling out another dagger. Devos and the elf fought for what seemed forever, blocking each other’s advances while swiping and slashing. After awhile, the elf stopped, and jumped out the window. Before leaving, Devos checked on the sleeping merchant. After making sure he was still fine, devos went back to the tavern and bought a room to sleep in for the night.

Devos awoke in a haze, his surroundings unfamiliar, and the sound of birds in the distance, he shot up in surprise and reached for his dagger which he just couldn’t find. “Careful there, young one.” A strange voice exclaimed “Your safe, for now.” Devos shook his head, his whole body felt heavy. “Wha….. w-w-w” Devos tried to speak but tripped over his own tongue “Oh how rude of me,” said the voice as a tall blonde man stepped into view. Devos could now see that he’s laying outside, against a gargantuan oak tree. His arms limp at his sides. “I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Michael, and we need to have a little chat. To make sure it stays civil, I poisoned you with a powerful paralyzing agent.” He squats in front of devos face. “See, you interferes with my bounty last night. Normally, I would’ve just killed you and moved on with my life, but I like you. And I’m keeping your rather large coin purse so Id say we’re about even. Now, notice I said ABOUT even. I need you to do me a favor, and you might not like it. But your gonna have to kill that poor merchant man that you so gallantly saved last night. I know what your thinking. “Oh please Mr. Michael, don’t make me kill an innocent man!” Well, listen here bucko, innocence is a figment of your imagination. True innocence doesn’t exist.” With that Michael jumps up and turns around to walk away “oh and, you have until tomorrow morning to finish the job, or else we come for you, and the merchant dies anyways.” 

A few hours pass and Devos regains his strength, stands up and heads back to town. He ponders the morality of killing the merchant, and what Dion would say about it. “Karma is one of the most powerful forces in our world, Devos” he once said “Always just, always fair. Karma loves to act indirectly, so do good, Devos, and you will always be rewarded.”  “Karma acts indirectly” Devos thinks for a moment about what Michael told him, about no one being innocent, and comes to the conclusion that if this man was not meant to die, he would not be in the situation he is in. Devos thinks that if karma is passing judgement through his blade, he would be honored to be such a tool.  
Devos spends the day following the merchant, observing his actions. The merchant was petty, rude and a thief. He didn’t care about anyone else around him and when presented the opportunity to help another person, he just watched as an old man dropped a bucket of cabbages in the mud. These actions didn’t justify him dying, but a lifetime of these actions sure didn’t make the world a better place. Devos knew what had to be done. That night, devos snuck down the chimney once more, into the merchants room and pulled out his dagger. “For Dion,” Devos Whispered as he plunged the dagger deep into the merchants chest. “Good,” a voice says from the shadows, and Michael walks out into the open, clapping slowly. “I was afraid i was wrong about you, but you amazed as I had expected. I’m sorry about the crude meeting, but I had to make sure you were for real.” Michael extends his arm “I have some friends I would like you to meet, if you want” Devos smiles and shakes michaels hand.
Michael brought Devos into a large underground building made of solid cement. Inside was a fortress filled with everything a party of 20 needed to survive for years on end. Michael explained that he was the leader of a guild called “The Hand” A group of assassins who thrived at repossessing the life of the undeserving. “Life is a gift” Michael explained “If you disrespect that gift, you are no longer worthy of it” Michael gave Devos the tour and eventually let him settle in his quarters. 
The next few years passed by quickly. Devos honed his skills as an assassin, but never forgot the lessons Dion taught him. Whatever contracts Devos took, he made certain those marked for death were deserving of its cold embrace. Then one day, a few months after his 20th birthday, Michael came to Devos. “How was your contract last night?” Devos asked “that’s what I came here to talk to you about Devos, see I have been apart of this organization for a very long time. I am tired so it has been decided that this was my last hunt. I am stepping down as leader of the hand and placing you in charge. If you do not want the position, give it to someone else.” Michael pulls a wrapped box from his satchel, “this has been in my possession since I was a child, and it has never let me down.” As devos began to unwrap it Michael Spoke again “my great grandfather was the founder of this organization, he’s the one who wrote the “vita et mortum” and the one who built this place. Before he perished, him and his brothers defeated a very powerful lich, that threatened the city above. Managed to tame a dragolich too, not work for the meek I’ll tell you that much. Anyways, my father's father forged two weapons from the bones of that monstrosity. One was buried with my father, the other is yours now. Vita et mortum, Devos.” As devos opened up the package, an array of light shined from the box, revealing what looked like a dragon tooth, fashioned into a dagger. The hilt being made of very fine dragonhide leather. Devos was speechless, “that dagger is still imbued with the necromatic energy of the lich itself. And it shows with every strike it takes. Use it well.” Michael puts his hand on Devos shoulder looks at him for a moment before walking away.
A few weeks later, Devos recurved a contract that surprised him dearly. On the parchment had the words “Dion Lattermer, Free city of Greyhawk, Tavern room 342, 500 Gold” Devos held the coin purse in his hands, feeling the weight of it in his muscles. “This can’t be….” Devos whispered. He grabbed his gear and headed out. 

THE FACTS

 

Devos Elkin is a 23 year old human who has experienced multiple life changing traumas and despite the incredible mental scarring, managed to elude psychosis and joined a small yet successful assassins guild called “The Hand” Devos really enjoys the mystical arts, specifically those found in the school of illusion. Though not magically inclined himself, Devos often finds himself reading about magic, collecting scrolls when he can and won’t pass up an opportunity to have a lengthy discussion with a Wizard, Witch, sorcerer or the occasional merchant of magical wares.

Devos absolutely loves the music of bards, and at an early age dreamt of attending a bardic college somewhere. Though fate had a different plan, Devos loves to spend time at the local taverns, drinking a glass of wine and paying whatever bard he can find to sings songs of the old.

Devos has consistent jarring visions of the past, when orcs had raided his village and killed his parents. This plague has grown into an violent obsession of hatred toward those with orcish genes. Although normally charismatic and slow to anger, Devos has a strong “attack first, and ask questions later” policy. Devos enjoys harvesting the tusks of the orcs he kills, and craving them into trinkets; such as cornucopias or unicorn miniatures.

From a young age, Devos has had a terrible allergy to nuts. Though Devos enjoys many foods that require various nuts for texture or flavoring, just touching the oils they secrete sends him into a deadly state of severe Anaphylactic shock. To combat accidental poisoning, Devos has kept a cure light wounds potion in his satchel at all times.

To Devos, The Hand is everything. The guild and its members are his family and he has an undying loyalty for it. After years of work and dedication, Devos has gained the honor of leading the guild, and although it is small and rather unconnected, Devos plans on making The Hand known throughout the world, as the largest, most powerful guild in the history of the planet. Though he makes most of his coin through assassination contracts from his guild, Devos loves the art of thievery and often practices sleight of hand on anyone who looks like they can spare a few coins. Rarely keeping valuables for himself, Devos often places the coins he gathers from his thievery in the pockets of poorer looking civilians or anyone down on their luck. The higher quality Valuables go directly to The Hand’s vault where the guilds fence then sells it off to fill the guilds coffers.

About twenty miles outside of The Fortress “The Hands main base” lies a dark, mysterious cavern that a tribe of animalistic reptilian humanoids called kobolds, lead by a vicious, yet charismatic kobold who’s name is nearly Unpronounceable to those who do not speak draconic but The Hand refers to him as “Bradly” These kobolds have a peace treaty with The Hand, where in return for the guilds protection, The Kobold tribe, amoung other things, grows food and bottles water for The Hand. Once a week, three operatives, usually including Devos go and meet Bradley, to talk and obtain the food and water. Although the truce is an uneasy one, Bradley and Devos get along swimmingly and often spend hours talking about nothing at all. Devos sees these reptilian savages as his second family.


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