CalhrisForsyth

Vincent Valcroux does not know from which city or family he hailed. He was discovered lying inside a crib, inside a dilapidated ship that washed up on the shores of the northern outskirts of Anthos. The ship was laid to ruins by forces unknown and definitely not to be trifled with, but that didn’t cow a meandering group of thieves and scavengers from rifling through its coffers. When they found the infant, they decided to take him as one of their own. Between mercifully ending the infant’s life instead of leaving him at the mercy of less considerate predators and keeping the baby, it seemed a more innocuous and noble decision. Vincent was presented to the leader of a small den of thieves, assassins and cutthroats established in one of the surrounding villages of Abresi. The leader, Arobynn Fell, took to training Vincent personally. He not only bequeathed the talents which he now possessed but also gave him the moniker of “Vincent”. “Valcroux” was derived from the ship, as the name was inscribed from the prow. Arobynn Fell taught Vincent how to steal without getting caught, pickpocket without so much as ruffling the fabric nor forming a crease and to kill should it be necessary. Besides larceny, Vincent was inculcated the different ways one can kill a person while making it seem like an accident. Despite many coercions, both verbal and corporeal, Vincent never utilized the skills by which one could kill, not even if it displeased his master. One day, when Vincent thought himself ready and wanted desperately to gain his master’s approval, Vincent went off unannounced on a thieving mission to pilfer the landowner’s mansion. Vincent was nearly successful, lockpicking windows and lathering oil and grease on their hinges so they wouldn’t creak, and slowly but surely emptying drawers, armoires and cabinets for trinkets and baubles. That was until he was interrupted by a loud yawn and the daughter of the landowner gazing at him curiously. Vincent was cursing himself silently for not being too careful and was deliberating killing the daughter before she raised the alarm, when the daughter opened one of the cupboards and thrusted a few expensive looking-chalices in his arms. She said to take what he can, for she claimed that he needed them more than she did – more than she could ever imagine, she said. Vincent exploited her kindness and did indeed take what he can, storming off without so much as an acknowledgement to her generosity. Vincent was appraised and showered with approbation upon his return. He went through the wealth of his spoils by drinking himself merry, lavishing in the comfort of erstwhile luxury. Until suddenly, fires started erupting across the town and village, followed by screams and the din of battle. Vincent caught a glance of the villainous foes, before escaping safely underground where his brethren thieves were sheltering. They were hideous aberrations with skin tar-black and faces that bore only rage and bloodthirst, not a smidge of sympathy. These weren’t soldiers, these were monsters – they were the Black Scourge. Vincent was about to retire to his master’s domicile when he noticed a pack of the Scourge floundering under the barrage of arrows unhindered and untrammelled towards the landowner’s manor. Vincent acted on impulse and immediately segued towards the manor, grabbing a sword, a bow and a fistful of arrows as he went from the felled guards. When Vincent arrived, there were only a few grunts of the Scourge left, and with stealth and subterfuge, he was able to finish them off, one by one. As he drove a blade through the nape of the last of the Scourge that invaded the manor, he saw that he was already too late. Laying on the demesne of the manor, sprawled limp and mangled, was the lifeless figure of the daughter of the landowner. Vincent tried to dredge any sign and proof of life, but her heart was as still as the village was after the battle and bloodletting. He took the girl’s pendant and wrapped it around his own throat as a sign and memento of what has passed and the debt he ruefully left unpaid. The debt of two chalices and a handful of freedom and luxury, even if it was for a short while. Vincent slung his bow and quiver of arrows and sheathed his blade, before leaving Abresi and all the guilty memories behind. He vowed never again to steal and commit felonious acts – however, he almost always falls back on this promise – never truly ready to rid himself of his true nature. In present, he’s found carousing and loitering in taverns, speakeasies and sleazy bars. Whenever he finds himself without currency, he steals them from other nouveau riche patrons and drunken oafs. He frequents these taverns not only for the wine and the occasional dalliances, but because it’s where many desperate folk look towards for help of a peculiar or dastardly kind. He sometimes employs himself in these quests – such as guarding a small and impecunious family looking to relocate, but having to trek through the chaparrals of Elysium, and finding evidence about an alleged murder by a minor nobleman for a grieving elderly woman, and finding ways to implicate said minor nobleman should the claims indeed be true.

Vincent Valcroux does not know from which city or family he hailed. He was discovered lying inside a crib, inside a dilapidated ship that washed up on the shores of the northern outskirts of Arcas. The ship was laid to ruins by forces unknown and definitely not to be trifled with, but that didn’t cow a meandering group of thieves and scavengers from rifling through its coffers. When they found the infant, they decided to take him as one of their own. Between mercifully ending the infant’s life instead of leaving him to whatever predator awaits their exodus and toting him with them, it gnawed on their conscience less to save the child. Vincent was presented to the leader of a small den of thieves, assassins and cutthroats established in one of the surrounding villages of Reinmar, in one of the governed provinces of Hanseti-Ruska. The leader, Arobynn Fell, took to training Vincent personally. He not only bequeathed the talents which he now possessed but also gave him the moniker of “Vincent”. “Valcroux” was derived from the ship, as the name was inscribed on the prow. Arobynn Fell taught Vincent how to steal without getting caught, pickpocket without so much as ruffling the fabric nor forming a crease and to kill should it be necessary. Besides larceny, Vincent was inculcated the different ways one can kill a person while making it seem like an accident. Despite many coercions, both verbal and corporeal, Vincent never put these lethal skills to practice, not even if it displeased his master. One day, when Vincent thought himself ready and wanted desperately to gain his master’s approval, Vincent went off unannounced on a thieving mission to pilfer the landowner’s mansion. Vincent was nearly successful, lockpicking windows and lathering oil and grease on their hinges so they wouldn’t creak, and slowly but surely emptying drawers, armoires and cabinets for trinkets and baubles. That was until he was interrupted by a loud yawn and the daughter of the landowner gazing at him curiously. Vincent was cursing himself silently for not being too careful and was deliberating killing the daughter before she raised the alarm, when the daughter opened one of the cupboards and thrusted a few expensive looking-chalices in his arms. She said to take what he can, for she claimed that he needed them more than she did – more than she could ever imagine, she said. Vincent exploited her kindness and did indeed take what he can, storming off without so much as an acknowledgement to her generosity. Vincent was appraised and showered with approbation upon his return. He went through the wealth of his spoils by drinking himself merry, lavishing in the comfort of erstwhile luxury. Until suddenly, fires started erupting across the town and village, followed by screams and the din of battle. Vincent caught a glance of the villainous foes, before escaping safely underground where his brethren thieves were sheltering. They were hideous aberrations with skin tar-black and faces that bore only rage and bloodthirst, not a smidge of sympathy. These weren’t soldiers, these were monsters – they were the Black Scourge. Vincent was about to retire to his master’s domicile when he noticed a pack of the Scourge floundering under the barrage of arrows unhindered and untrammelled towards the landowner’s manor. Vincent acted on impulse and immediately segued towards the manor, grabbing a sword, a bow and a fistful of arrows from the felled guards as he went. When Vincent arrived, there were only a few grunts of the Scourge left, and with stealth and subterfuge, he was able to finish them off, one by one. As he drove a blade through the nape of the last of the Scourge that invaded the manor, he saw that he was already too late. Laying on the demesne of the manor, sprawled limp and mangled, was the lifeless figure of the daughter of the landowner. Vincent tried to dredge any sign and proof of life, but her heart was as still as the village was after the battle and bloodletting. He took the girl’s pendant and wrapped it around his own throat as a sign and memento of what has passed and the debt he ruefully left unpaid. The debt of two chalices and a handful of freedom and luxury, even if it was for a short while. Vincent slung his bow and quiver of arrows and sheathed his blade, before leaving the village and all the guilty memories behind. He vowed never again to steal and commit felonious acts – however, he almost always goes back on his promise – never truly ready to rid himself of his true nature. In present, he’s found carousing and loitering in taverns, speakeasies and sleazy bars. Whenever he finds himself without currency, he steals them from other nouveau riche patrons and drunken oafs. He frequents these taverns not only for the wine and the occasional dalliances, but because it’s where many desperate folk look towards for help of a peculiar or arduous kind. He sometimes employs himself in these quests – such as guarding a small and impecunious family looking to relocate, but having to trek through the chaparrals of Elysium, and finding evidence about an alleged murder by a minor nobleman for a grieving elderly woman, and finding ways to implicate said minor nobleman should the claims indeed be true.