Tristan Sharpe

## Character

* **Player Name:** Tim Bowman
* **Race**: Half Elf
* **Alignment:** Neutral Good
* **Background:** Sage
* **Class:** Warlock (7)
	+ **Patron:** HexBlade
	+ **Archtype:** Pact of the Blade
* **Noteables:**
	+ Member of the The Mudcrabs

 Stats

## Backstory

Backstory included here is currently not known to other player characters. Expand at your own risk.

Elves were rare around Bamburough. Hunting deaths on the other hand, were quite common. The woods were filed with creatures as likely to hunt you down as you were them. My father, though, had 200 years to hone his skills in the surrounding forest. So when he didn't return after a day trip into the woods to gather the week's meat for the family, we didn't worry. That is, until a few hours turned into days. His body was finally found. He wasn't gored or torn up, however, as if by beast.

My mother's death was not much less of a mystery. Due to my father's ancestry, I aged much more slowly than she. I was able to watch her grow and live out an otherwise fulfilling life. She had spirit and compassion that lead to her being a well known and well liked person throughout the town.

The day my son, Adrian, was born remains the most bittersweet in my memory. My wife, Sirean, had been wanting to start a family since our marriage eight years prior, time was not a luxary to her like it was myself or my father. I married her for her strong will and spirit. But her time carrying my son sapped all of that from her. She barely managed the strength to birth our son when the day finally came. And in the end, my son took his first breath as my wife took her lsat.

My son inherited all the spirit and energy of his mother, though. And the sense of adventure of my father. Many days he spent exploring around the village, bringing home polished rocks or animal teeth from behind the butcher's. I never had to go out of my way to herd him home, however. He was always home as soon as dinner was ready. I guess he inherited my appetite as well. So when dinner started to get cold one day and he still wasn't home, it was unusual. Not even the neighbors had heard his excited voice in several hours.
Looking back, I barely remember finding him. Most of the details are blurry or shaded from my memory all together. And in contrast, some details burned into my mind so deeply I see them every time I close my eyes. The smell is easily something I will never forget. Nor the circle drawn on the cave floor with blood. My son's blood. His broken body hanging from the wall, torn open and apart.

Something else unsettling was mixed in the air that night, something that didn't quite belong with such a grusome scene.
It was the smell of mint and lavender. The contrast bites at the senses.

The next week, I remember little. The void in my life began filling with a drive for vengeance. There was little magical lore and knowledge in Bamburough. But I was able to put enough of the pieces together by the coming of the new moon. And in the same cave where my son met his fate, I sealed mine.
The body had been taken down and buried. The walls and floor cleaned of the stains.
The smell remained though. Decay and lavender.
The ritual was simple enough, even if the outcome was vague. A lock of my son's hair. A drop of fresh blood. A black fire opal the size of my palm. A stone this precious had cost me myh home to purchase. But that didn't matter anymore. I had nothing to tie me down to this place anymore.

The words echoed as I said them, not reverberating off the cave walls, but as if another voice matched mine. A voice without a body, but certainly not without intent. The final syllable left my lips and an eerie silence overtook the cave. The opal before me rose before me.

"I do not offer peace. I do not offer absolution. I offer you power."

The voice boomed in my head, but the cave itself was still shrouded in silence.

"If you become the arbiter of my will here on Kronna, I will give you the power to exert your own will upon this world as you see fit."

There was little doubt in my mind of the extent, and cost, of the power I could gain. There was also little hesitation. I had already had everything taken from me. What did it mattered if I lost myself as well?

The words didn't even have to leave my lips. As soon as I had decided, a fiery explosion erupted from the gem before me. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness is a pair of eyes, burning of black fire.

It must only have been a few minutes before I came to, as it was still dark outside the cave. No moon to light this night. As I left the cave, I didn't turn back to the village. I set out to find whatever had maimed and used my son for their profane ritual.

Though I did not leave alone. Since that night, my left hand has had a constant, burning tingle where the opal was now embedded into my palm.
And the whisper of something vastly greater than myself always in the back of my mind. Greater, but darker than the night.