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11:55, 29th April 2024 (GMT+0)

Deron Praxx

Vatra Praxx is an Effreeti-blooded Gnome much taller than others of his race. The irises of his eyes are strange and constantly moving, like a soft breeze blowing over the embers of a recently dead fire. His hair is wild and a dirty, brick red. His legs seem abnormally long for his lithe body type. His smile is both infectious and alluring, even to those who are of different races. His voice is surprisingly deep for a Gnome and words seem to flow naturally from him, regardless of how awkward their meaning might be.

He wears travelers clothing that are mostly dark colours, bordering on black, but have common accents of wine red. When not looking directly at him, there appears to be a translucent, maroon mist lazily swirling about him, but the moment one looks to confirm the oddity, it is always gone, as if it were never there. He has a small light mace hanging from his belt and a number of pouches that match his dark, leather pack.


BACKGROUND

Long ago, the Effreeti Zaudejis fell in love with a young, Gnomish serving girl in his court. He knew one with such a pure heart could never love her captor, though, so he devised a plan to deceive her. He sent spies to reveal what she thought was her perfect partner. Brave and strong and virtuous.

Zaudejis found a wizard who would polymorph him each evening into that handsome, Gnomish hero Maynellia Praxx would grow to love. And she did.

Eventually, Zaudejis staged an elaborate escape from the palace. He as the brave, Gnomish hero and she as the damsel in distress. They fled the desert where she had been enslaved and found shelter in an abandoned cabin near the edge of the mountains. It was here their love was consummated.

The two settled down on a small farm while Maynellia went through her pregnancy. Although Zaudejis loved Maynellia, nothing could keep him from his seat of power in his elaborate palace. Leaving under the guise of duty as a hero, Zaudejis would often return to his kingdom to rule with a molten fist.

When it was time for Maynellia to give birth, Zaudejis returned to her side. Once the baby was born, Oarrdon Praxx by name, there was a moment of utter joy. But as the tears welled in the child’s eyes and the cry of a newborn was about to break the silence of the new world the uncontrollable fury of his bloodline erupted into an ever consuming explosion of fire. Maynellia, the farm and everything in it was consumed by the flame.

Although heartbroken by the loss of his love, Zaudejis was now obsessed with his half-blood offspring. He would raise him to be a powerful leader and then send him off to conquer his own desert oasis. He had used Maynellia to accomplish what he wanted most. Immortality through blood.


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The Praxx name had always been misunderstood and feared. Legends had told of a power within them that manifested itself with fiery destruction. Vatra, son of Knoxx, son of Ataxia, son of Oarrdon was no exception.

He had become an orphan at an early age when his mother had passed in a tragic house fire and his father had left for Absalom, never to return. He was picked up by a band of nomadic gypsies and stolen away into the hot, desert night.

Very early, he had shown signs of an innate ability to harness the wild magic that was the earmark of the mighty sorcerer. His new gypsy family were quick to take advantage of this, having him preform simple tricks in the day and much darker application in the cover of night. Soon, though, Vatra grew tired of the carnival that had become his life and, with a few angry words and a few fires left behind, he made his way into the world.

He did like the freedom the nomadic lifestyle offered, so he found work as a caravan mercenary. Between the steady pay he was drawn to adventure. He had saved orphans from a maladjusted baron. He had magically persuaded people to pay their debts. He had spent time in temples and he had spent time in prison. He found peace in a life where whims could be accomplished, regardless of who found it offensive. He was free.

But under it all was a burning… a fire, unquenchable and seething. He needed more. He had to find individuals who would be his equal in the desire to find knowledge and coin alike. When he heard Diobel was the place to accomplish this goal he set out for the Island Nation of Absalom.

Who knows… maybe he’d find his dear old Dad.