Garrick Zenwhyl

## Backstory

My name is Krillin Bineros. I was born in the United Kingdom of Valeria, in the city of Kingsrock near Lake Anyrion. My father was an elf and my mother was a human. They were quite well off, and therefore, so was I. I was raised with the finest amenities and luxuries, and I took a particular liking to the theatrical performances that my father so adored. While he was raving about the artistry of the sets and stories, I was focusing on the performers. It was astounding... they stood on stage, manipulating an audience for hours, and fools like my parents had the stupidity to pay them for the pleasure of being duped. We weren't watching heroes or queens, we were watching liars. Filthy, rotten, poor liars. They wouldn't make in a year what my parents made in a week, yet they had my parents (the highest of the high) on their feet, cheering. It astounded me. Everything I knew about class and dignity was thrown to the wayside just because these people strapped a fake mustache to their face and spoke someone else's words. I started to imagine... If I had their skills...

Oh the things I could get away with...

I started small. I practiced accents in the washroom when my parents weren't paying attention. I stared in the mirror, practicing different gaits and mannerisms. I started walking the streets, past familiar stores, but in different clothes and with different voices, just to see if family friends would recognize me. Early on, some of them did. They'd bring me home and my parents would scold me for sneaking away. But as I grew older, I got better. Before you know it, my parents convinced themselves that I was over my bad habit. In reality, I was just so engrossed in my bad habit that I would never get caught again. I started using my skills to my advantage... Small crimes, jus to see if I could get away with them, really. I would make up my face to resemble the tax collectors, and then make off with a couple of coins every here and there. I worked my way up to bigger tricks, impersonating city officials and tricking people into paying me for sponsorships and investments. When a local official was arrested for one of my crimes, however, I knew that I needed to find something more sustainable. I couldn't just mimic the people I saw... I needed to create a character of my own.

And that's when Garrick Zenwhyl was born.

Garrick was everything I wanted to be... and everyone I wanted to be. He was charming, lovable, sharp, and manipulative. I fell in love with myself all over again! I knew the flaws of Krillin Bineros, but saw perfection in Garrick Zenwhyl. I ran away from home at the age of nineteen. I haven't returned to Kingsrock since then, and I'm better off for it. As far as I'm concerned, Krillin Bineros is dead.

I traveled the nations of Valeria for several years at that point. Everywhere I went, I would live my own sort of double life. In the daytime, I would take to the city squares, and people would pay me like we paid the performers back home. They would happily fork over a couple of gold pieces for the pleasure of watching me lie to their faces. I performed one man shows of all kinds, reciting epic poems of ancient heroes, or dramatizing local religious tales. I always enjoyed the irony of that last bit... The most pious people in Valeria would grin with pleasure as I stood in the place of their gods. I would take their names as my own for those precious hours, and they would gift me with the tithes of their people. Church funds, in my pocket. It was the perfect life.

In the night I would return to my old tricks. Garrick Zenwhyl had many other names that he would assume in the darkness. Some of them scoundrels, asking people for their money at a dagger's end. Other names carried the weight of a traveling merchant, selling the most fantastic potions and remedies (which were all just piss, of course). Each name earned me a pretty penny, and then would never be heard from again. I got older, and my craft became more refined.

Then I met Imarona. She was a stunningly beautiful elven woman, but very young. Older than I was, surely, but that's how pureblooded elves work, you see. She didn't look a day older than I was. At first I didn't think anything of it. She was just another local sweetheart, someone to seduce out of their money. But as I snatched the purse from her waist, she cut my own. I wandered back to the inn, proud of my haul, only to realize that she had taken two weeks' worth of gold from me. I wasn't offended... I was impressed. I found her in the same alleyway where I had attempted to pick her pocket. From that moment, we were in love.

We became a team. If you thought it was impressive what I could get away with alone, imagine what I could get away with as a team. I taught her my charlatan's tricks, and she taught me how to play the flute. Our performances became legendary, and our crimes became infamous. If you ever hear stories of a pair of Valerian criminals, a dastardly dynamic duo, it was likely Ima and I. All of the most talked about performance, as well as the most whispered about crimes, were our doing.

But the greatest crime, the ultimate con, was at my expense.

One morning, I woke up with a chill to my core. I knew, before I even opened my eyes, that Ima was gone. It didn't matter to me that she had taken our spoils. The money meant nothing to me then. I just needed to find her. I searched the entire city, but she was nowhere. I had taught her too well. She evaded me for days, and I started to give up hope. Not just the hope that I could find her, but the hope in my own perfection. The hope that Garrick Zenwhyl was above any sort of failure. I knew I had to find her... not out of any carnal desire, or romantic fantasy, but out of pride. She was the one stain on Garrick's perfect record.

I followed a trail to the forests. I hoped it was hers, but now I believe it was another path entirely. It did not lead me to Imarona, but to a cave. It was deep, and seemingly devoid of any life. It seemed like the perfect hiding place for a thief like Ima, so I delved deeper and deeper. At the deepest point, when the cave came to its close, I felt the grief of loss set in once more. She was nowhere to be found, and I had failed once again. I fell to my knees, on the verge of a personal darkness I had never felt until then. I didn't know if I was Garrick or Krillin... a master or a novice.

Then I found the Black Hand.

It was a small shape in the darkness, no larger than the journal I now write in. It was a small, black, leather-bound book, with a symbol on the cover that I will never forget: a hand, covered in what seemed like swirling tattoos. I swear that the images moved before my eyes, flowing like oil over the burnished leather. I reached out, almost entranced, desperate to feel the texture for myself. When my finger grazed the surface, I immediately felt a jolt of pain tear through the back of my head. Images began to flash... a building, familiar to me. A university of sorts, a college for bards. These images tore through my mind like a dagger. Then, three words rang through the darkness.

"Learn."

"Join."

"Gain power."

The visions began to clear... when the fog was lifted from my mind, I opened my eyes to see that the tome was gone. However, the swirling signs, the oil-laden hand, they remained. They were no longer bound to any book, but to my own flesh. The patterns swam across my skin like a cool breeze. It was sharp, but not painful. It was a comforting sort of pain, and it never went away. To this day, it remains with me. I returned to the nearby town, lost in thought as those three words repeated in my mind. Learn. Join. Gain power.

I went back to my own tricks, but something had changed... I began discovering new abilities. They would come to me in dreams... I would fall asleep, only to find myself in front of a mirror. Then, as I blinked, my face would change before me. Whatever I envisioned in my heart, my body would shift to its will. I would awake and discover that the new power was mine. The loss of Imarona never left me, but it was suffused by the thrill of these new abilities. I found myself lying with a greater ease than I had ever felt before, like something was guiding the words from my tongue. Garrick Zenwhyl became an even greater legend, better than he had ever been with a partner.

But the hole remained.

As time went on, the dreams ceased to be lessons. The three words started repeating more and more. The image of the bard's college continued to flash in my dreams, accompanied with increasing pain. I knew that I was being called by whatever I found met in that cave. The Black Hand was beckoning me towards my destiny.

I followed where it led, and I returned to the college that I had once ignored in years past. I didn't know how I was meant to join them, but my question was answered for me during a chance encounter in a local tavern. I struck up a conversation with the man beside me, and he explained his role as the recruiter for the bardic school. The first word of the Black Hand's message rang in my ears... "Learn." I explained to him my immense desire to study at their school, utilizing every tool of deception that I had ever perfected. He bought it hook, line, and sinker. I was conscripted into the Bard's College, only to discover its hidden intent. This was the College of Whispers, dedicated to the discovery of every secret in Kega's deeply-rooted history.

I studied with them, and began to travel with them as one of their own. I learned, I joined, and now I only needed to gain power. We traveled to nearly every civilized corner of Kega. I studied the monasteries of Tarhum Dur, the beautiful architecture of Tirana, and the rugged forges of Bholdor. I was gaining power by the day, all while keeping up my tricks in the night.

But then one of them saw my hand. They saw the swirling patterns upon my skin, and without almost any explanation I found myself banished from the College of Secrets. I was left abandoned on the island of Bholdor, without passage back to the lands where I had made my name. I was without purpose once again. How could I learn if the College had abandoned me? How could I fulfill the calling set upon me by the Black Hand?

Then, that night, as I laid hopelessly in a run-down inn, two more words came to me in my dreams. With these words came a new vision: a port city, from which I had made my entrance to the Kingdom of Bholdor. I recognized the city as none other than Kherndun, along with the open-air theatre that I had once admired in its square.

"Go."

"Learn."

So now I will go to Kherndun. I know not who I will find at the Cherry Blossoms Theatre... perhaps it will be a new teacher. Perhaps it will be a wealthy patron, ripe to be tricked out of his fortune. Or perhaps... it will be Ima. I still hope to find her one day. I don't know how I would respond if I were to find her again. I don't know if I would try to kill her, or try to kiss her... or if I would just stare into her beautiful eyes and freeze like a child. All I know is that Kherndun is where the Black Hand is taking me. For now, that is my only lead towards my destiny. May the Black Hand guide my many faces towards the enlightenment we both seek.

I am Garrick Zenwhyl, and I swear on the gods of Kega that you will know my names.