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My TTB back story


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   Last winter we got together for a TTB adventure.  I wrote this back story for my character.  I'm not a role player but I thought it needed to be detail so I wrote this.  My fate master urged me to share it with the forum.  Of course I forgot until now : ).


              I still remember the first time I saw it, the ornate metal cylinder; incredibly old, beautiful engravings of mythical creatures.  I could only imagine the life times that the object had seen.  Its most striking feature was the stone.  The way it shimmered and sparkled, the way it drew your eye, the way it commanded you to stare at it, the way it made you feel like part of it…

                My family moved often, Boston, London, New York, Tokyo, Milan. One day my father would come in, with that big smile of his, announce it was time to go and we would be gone.  Money was never an issue we lived in the finest neighborhoods, in the most beautiful homes.  Not that I realized it at the time, it was just our life.

                Schooling was extremely important to my father.  Where ever we lived my younger sister and I would always have the best tutors money could buy, Greek, Latin, Nipponese were all taught, mathematics, science and history, especially history.  My father always said knowledge is power and in life you must have power!

                In whatever city we lived, my father seemed to know important people.  They would stop by in the evening and stay for dinner, then retire to my father’s study.  Dinner was always full of laughter and fun; my father would tell the most outrageous stories.  We would all laugh, except my mother.  I think I remember her smiling when I was younger but as I grew older she seemed to wither, growing more and more reclusive. After dinner she would usually just disappear.  Not that we noticed. 

                Many times after our guests would leave my father would take out the object, that wonderful object, and entertain my sister and I with it.  He would make the table and chairs dance, he would make books fly through the air, he would speak strange words and the air would come alive with colors and sounds.  My sister would laugh and scream for more.  My father loved my sister’s laugh.  He once said that hearing my sister’s laugh was worth a thousand souls.

                We would laugh and play with the object until it would grow dimmer and finally fade.  Then my father would say, with that great big smile that it was time to go to work, send us to mother and out into the night he would go.

                I loved that object.  I would often imagine myself wielding it, moving chairs, moving mountains, rocking the very foundations of the earth!!  I imagined myself as the king using my object to conquer my enemies, ruling all I surveyed with an iron fist!  They were only the day dreams of a silly child but I dared to dream them.  I looked everywhere for that object yet I could never find where he had hid it.

                On my thirteenth birthday I found it.  I don’t know how I just felt it.  It called to me.  I ran to my father’s study, I grabbed a chair, climbed to the top of his book shelves. I tore the books out of the way and there it was, softly glowing, calling to me.  I picked it up and held it.  It felt right.  I could feel its power coursing through my body.  It was mine!! I knew I would do anything to keep. No one would ever take it from me.

                I looked at it closely, the beautiful engravings.  Winged beasts, half-men and exotic women adorned the object.  I also noticed the symbol.  It’s still etched in my mind.  I see it in my dreams.  The way it twisted at impossible angles, turning in on its self, asking to be followed.

                My father took it from me.  I don’t know where he came from or how he knew but suddenly he was there and the object was gone.  He looked at me with that big smile of his and said, “Not yet my son.  This is your legacy but I’m not quite done with it yet.  This artifact has been in our family for a long time.  It is incredibly powerful and is the key to our future.  It will be yours just not yet”.

                It wasn’t long after that that He came. I remember the night like it was yesterday.  My father came home after being out and announced to us that we were leaving.  He told us to get our things together immediately.  He had never said immediately before.  In retrospect I should have been concerned because he wasn’t smiling either.  I’ve replayed the incident over and over in my mind hundreds of times and every time I do the most striking memory is the look in my father’s eyes, the horror and fear.  The near insanity.  I didn’t see it then I only felt annoyed.  Why now at this minute. 

                I ran to my room and started to gather my things.  Shirts, pants, my book, my favorite pocket knife, wait where was my knife? I began to systematically search my room, and then I remembered the park.  I had it there today.  I loaned it to Jonny, the ambassador’s son.  I didn’t have many friends but being a boy I always found someone to while away my hours.  Jonny lived around the block; father would just have to wait.  My knife was more important.

                I jumped out my window and ran to Jonny’s home.  I had to climb the wall and sneak around to the back were the ambassador’s family slept.  Luckily Jonny was in his room and it only took a couple of pebbles to get his attention.  He gave me my knife, a quick good luck and I was on my way home.  I was feeling pretty good about myself; I took a chance and had succeeded.  I would only have been missed for a few minutes and I could make up some story. 

                I was almost home when I heard the screams.  Tortured soul wrenching screams.  I ran as fast as I could hopped into my window and down the stairs.  There I saw a vision that haunts my dreams.  The living room was covered in smoke and blood.  My mother lay in a pool of blood.  I never knew that there was that much blood in a human body.  Her skin seemed to be gone, torn from her body in large patches.  My sister was tossed into a corner like a rag doll her limbs twisted in unnatural positions, blood dripping from her eyes.  And there was my father his dead eyes staring at me, accusing me of all of my family’s pain and misery, blaming me for his death, blaming me for the loss of the object.

                Standing over my father was the man; in one hand he held my father’s intestines.  He seemed to be squeezing and massaging them like some kind slimy snake.  In the other hand he held the object, my object.  He didn’t notice me at first, so intent was he in staring at the stone, but then he seemed to realize someone else was in the room and he turned and looked at me.  He had a long face, almost beautiful.  He saw me standing on the stair looking at him, looking at my object and he smiled.  His mouth spread impossibly wide and I could see every one of his teeth. Then he began to laugh, an insane laugh. I covered my ears to stop it.

                The smoke began to grow thicker and the heat from a fire I had hardly noticed began to singe my skin and dry my eyes.  I rubbed my eyes to clear away some soot and the man was gone.  I could not go after him the fire was becoming too great so I ran back up the stairs and out my window.  A crowd was gathering around and someone took me to the guards men.

                My uncle raised me from there until my twentieth birthday.  I was schooled in many different subjects but I always read extensively about ancient civilizations.  I wanted to find that symbol on my object.  I never saw it anywhere.  I asked my uncle about it but he always said he knew nothing about it.  I know he was lying.

                My break came quite serendipitously, I was reading a newspaper and I found a story about an amazing archaeological find that was found on the steps of Mongolia.  An ancient temple was found in a place where there was no record of any previous civilization building.  At the top of the article was a picture of the dig team and in the picture was the man, that same queer smile smeared across his face.  My mind was set from there.  I immediately packed some belongings took whatever money I could find and headed for Mongolia.  He was gone by the time I got there but my symbol was everywhere.

                After Mongolia I traced him to Tibet.  Again no man but the symbol was there.  I ran out of money but was able to survive by working on archaeological digs.  I also learned to live off the land.  I hunted in the mountains of Tibet and fished the river valleys of Greater Cathy.  I almost caught him in Cambodia but he had slipped away into the night before I arrived.  The symbol was there too.   I didn’t get him but I did get a name, Mr. Mephistopheles.   From there I followed him to Tokyo.  I saw him in a crowd then he was gone.

                Everywhere he went I followed.  He always seemed to leave just in time.  I cannot understand how he always seems to know when I was coming. No matter I will find him.  It’s my destiny.  Over ten years I have searched but I know I will find him.

                Now here I am in Malifaux.  I know he is here somewhere.  I know he is searching for something.  I know that where the symbol is so will he be.  I’ve heard tale of ancient cities throughout this land with ancient languages yet to be deciphered.  Amazing artifacts like my object.  That’s where he’ll be.  That’s where I’ll be.

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