I have already written a little bit about my character over on a gaming website that I write for, so you can get some info on his background by clicking this link
. Since a lot of the information there is not going to be considered "in character", I thought I would continue that theme with this first bit of introduction. I will be going through the questionnaire provided by Dan, answering some personal questions about Kantrel. The post after this will be more obvious stuff, including appearance, that will be IC for everyone.
The basics of my family history are well documented elsewhere, so well documented in fact that I have chosen a family name of my own, that won't tie me to that bunch of degenerate cock-ends. I hope you'll forgive me then if I continue to change some names to answer your questions.
The family, as you know, are rich and lazy. For some reason my mother took this as a sign that she was OK to push out a group of children that could more accurately be described as a litter. I suppose being born somewhere in the middle of that shower might have had something to do with my outlook on life, and why I ended up closer to my grand father than either of my parents. He often filled my head with tales of his youth, back when the family earned their money, rather than siting around and watching it flow in. He worked with the eighth guild, but just as often for himself.
He knew I was unhappy with my life, and had little time for the tutors that were paid for by my mother. The only thing I had an interest in was Geomancy, and even then, I grew quickly bored with the academic study and creation of runes, finding the application of them much more exciting. As I grew he arranged for different lessons, bribing my "approved" tutors to look the other way while I was taught to fight with a long blade and knife, to tie knots on a ship and stand up in the rigging while at sea.
My lessons were not in a classroom, and the teachers were not well disciplined lecturers. I learned more in the bars and taverns, taught by "named men" and those who very carefully hid their name. All of them friends of the family from the old days, who were happy to attend to my Grandfather's whims for the coin he paid and promise of future favours should I earn my keep in the old ways. That wasn't my plan though. I knew the life would siut me for a while, but eventually it could lead me down the same path as my parents once I made enough coin to suit my needs.
I decided to try something different, so with an arrangement made between my fencing master, I decided to see if I had it in me to take a life. He was another young man, with a family not quite so rich as my own who were in debt to the kind of people one should never even borrow money from. Favours changed hands, and I imagine quite a lot coin too, and one night we faced each other in a chalk circle drawn on old floor boards. We each had a sword, and the question became which of us wanted to see another sunrise more. He was a quick lad, but desperate. I took my time and waited for the opening that was bound to present itself. When it did I slid the point of my sword between his ribs and watched as his eyes went dark.
I never saw a penny of the money earned from his death, but what I did receive was priceless. I knew from that moment that another's life meant little to me when my own future depended on it. Not only that, but that I could kill without remorse for reasons that meant nothing to me. The perfect outlook to have for a master duelist.
But, as life gives, it also takes away. My grandfather passed away two days later, and without his name to back me up, my money would only go so far. I was a man by then, so continuing the lessons my family approved of was no longer a concern. I lived the life I thought I wanted, drinking and whoring, starting fights for the thrill of feeling my sword cut flesh, and sleeping my days away until the hangover abated. For two years this seemed enough. The family had enough money that I barely made a scratch in the finances, and spent considerably less than my siblings did on such fripperies as clothes and scented oils.
A few too many mornings waking up under the sun, with my boots stolen and a sore head that would make the Gods wince, and I realised just how long I had spent pissing my life against the wall, a pint at a time. Nothing was changing. I needed to be the one to make the change. From my lowest point I knew there was but one direction to go, and I never wanted to sink to that level again; relying on my family's money and doing nothing with it. A day later and I was on a boat, getting the hell away from anyone that knew me. I owed favours upon debts to a lot of interesting people, but when I returned I would be able to pay them back with interest.
The only other problem was how likely I would be to return. The Margomarrisi was a dangerous place to say the least, but it was also the perfect proving ground. I would come back ready for the life I wanted, or not at all.