Aito was borne to a family of moderate wealth and status, being semi-wealthy merchants in Helena, considered by many to be the capitol of Humanity. As a child, he attended festivals, learned to read and write, and often hung around his peers, getting into all sorts of mildly criminal fun. Though as he transitioned from a child, to a teenager, things degraded for the young Aito, his family cutting back on expenses. His education halted, his fun loving time replaced with long hours in the shop his parents owned, and a dull life swashed Aito with contempt.
During one of the few times he had the ability to freely roam about the city, the still somewhat young Aito attended one of those festivals he once did when he was a child, watching with amazement as a pyromancer danced in fire. Though this excursion would be the near death of Aito, as the performance went wrong, a foot tripping over a bucket. The dancers hand jutted out, spewing a great blast of fire at the side of Aito’s cheek, melting and melding flesh and bone as the child screamed, writhing on the floor.
His family was unable to use the regenerative properties of a healer, the expense to high for them to afford. They instead opted for the cheaper option, an operation to remove the charred flesh and replace it so that he may live on, though scarred for life. The practitioner began to tear charred skin away, leaving a gaping pit where Aito’s cheek once was. He put over a somewhat thick metal plate over the entire area, to cover the horrible disfiguring as best he could, taking the payment and leaving Aito a child who would never again be the same.
A fury built up in Aito as he grew older, his teen years seething with anger as he looked for ways to explain away the trauma and pain he had. He tried religion, he tried support groups and his friends, none of it worked. Until one day in the shop, as he was gritting his teeth, sweeping the shop floor, a man entered that gave Aito everything. He was a strong man, who also had experienced pains with the occult magic Aito had, the burns streaking all over his body signifying that immediate bond. As Aito overheard he and his father speak, more was revealed.
It seems this man went by the name Sycophantus, he was an ex soldier who was out of work and looking for a new master to serve. As the two men haggled, the teenager lingered near, waiting until his fathers back was turned, and Sychopantus left the shop to where he made his move. He bolted out of the store, grabbing the man by the arm and pleading for him to be taken with, to join him. He NEEDED this. He NEEDED change. And so it was. Although the pangs of regret filled his gut at leaving his family, Aito nevertheless carried on alongside his new mentor to lands unknown, all the while being trained in the arts of combat.
But Aito was no fighter. As the weeks morphed to months, this fact soon drew apparent to his mentor. So he was left one night, in an unfamiliar town on the other side of the continent, abandoned by his only friend. Just his luck. Aito was now a young adult, at the ripe 22 years of age. Jobless, thousands of miles away from his home, and without purpose, he wandered the streets of Sutica, the place of his desertion, preforming odd jobs and such until one night he stumbled into a bar of human supremacist fighters. Allured by the free drink and lodging, he stayed, listening intently to the racist rhetoric of the people speaking on the stage, with cheers erupting at every xenophobic remark. Here he had comradely unlike any other before, with people he barely knew caring for him like one of their own. He stayed at this bar, being given lodging in exchange for speaking in the tavern, spouting the same racism that was spoonfed to him. Combined with his good looks and literate upbringing, he lifted the art of racism to a new degree, eloquently describing the folly of the inferior beings and how they ruined human civilization at every turn. He used the old world knowledge of the creation of man to justify their thoughts, using the wizard as a way to tell away the good in other species.
Another 3 years came and went, Aito being known well among the community as the voice of the xenophobic peoples. But he was not content at simply shouting words, he wanted action. So, one night he left with his few possessions and little wealth, and made way onto a ship, not caring for where it took him, simply wishing to spread the word of hate, to spread the word of anger, and to one day create a place which in his eyes, would be utopia. A place free of the other species, a place free of magic mutating and maiming. A place where he could rule and prevent the horrors he faced. The abandonment. The pain. Yes, that was it. He wanted to make the world a better place, and shape it into his own twisted image. And that is where the story all begins.
As he stepped off the barge and onto the hard wood of the docks, he was quite jarred at being immediately heckled at by some random bystander. A look of disdain filled his eyes until he realized the innocuousness of the question, his frown turning into that of a slight smile, although it did look quite fake.
“I come for none of those three, good sir. I come merely to spread ideas and prevent pain. I may not heal with my touch, like a magi, but I heal with my words just as well. Perhaps, you can help me in this...”
From his pocket he unveiled 2 coins, quite shiny, freshly minted.
“Care to direct me to the nearest bar?