Dead
"Why is it that everyone I meet is always so much better than me at everything I do?
Name: James 'Luckless'
Race: Lowly Human
Age: 26 at the age of death.
Birthplace: Imperia
Skills: Pretending to be brave, Running away, Making everyone around him ten times luckier.
Personality: Humbled. Shy. Easy-going. A little clever, but not openly. James has a tendency to meet people, but never stay by them or get close. Usually, he tries to leave them as soon as he can. Making friends is what he avoids most, and the only ones he ever keeps usually end up being those as miserable as himself. Though he tries his hardest to avoid conflicts, he knows that he can't ignore them entirely, being good at heart, and when it seems like -someone- has to do something for the greater good, he just knows it's going to be him, and it's going to hurt, so he opts to make the first move and show courage- forced and shaky, but courage nonetheless.
Biography: James was a simple monk, entrusted with a shrine, albeit a large and intricately crafted one, to the God, Tymora. He had prayed to Tymora for eternal good fortune, and in exchange, offered his eternal devotion, going so far as to build a shrine and tend and care for it every single day. He was sixteen when he'd begun. Half a year in, his prayers were finally heard. Tymora himself visited the the young man, blessing him as James had wished. James was overjoyed. For months after the blessing, he cared for the shrine, worshiping Tymora and his statue, keeping the shrine clean and safe from every angle. He turned seventeen before the year's end. Even after Winter came, James continued to receive good fortune, finding dropped nuts, forgotten bushels of food, and animals dying near his shrine. Gold and treasures found their way to him, and he was never cold, or burdened, or anything of discomfort.
As Winter passed and Spring came, James had begun turning spoiled, and though he worshiped as always, he was a bit off, and his devotion, though strong, was not showing as well as it always had. With the coming months, James became more and more lazy. Tymora sensed this, and sent James a vision, a warning that he would lose his gifts if he continued to neglect his duties. Joseph heeded the warning, shocked and worried of losing his gift. Again, he pushed himself to care for the shrine, following his old routine, and though his vigor was not as great as before, it sustained him throughout the year... or so it would seem. Again, the end of year approached, and his birthday neared. He had done well, and Tymora felt that, though his performance was not as wonderful as before, James still deserved a reward for his devotion.
A beautiful woman found her way to the shrine, lost and in need of shelter. James was at a loss. It seemed she would do anything to satisfy those simple needs-
anything! He allowed her to stay the night... but he also tried his luck. Fortunately for James, he had become a
very lucky man, and as Tymora had intended, the winds blew in his favor. Literally, rather, for they blew the woman's clothes off. She seemed embarrassed... but not unknowing. When James offered her to come with him out somewhere quieter, she accepted without resistance.
It was his gravest mistake. In their absence, followers of Beshaba stumbled across the shrine, having heard of a monk that saw no misfortune. They were here to remedy that problem. The cult struck hard and fast, bludgeoning the shrine apart with hammers, setting it alight, burning personal belongings and stealing food. Were that not enough, they set the gardens around the shrine up in flames and flung gathered dung onto the crumbled, flame-ridden statue. As they fled, the dung exploded, staining the shrine and spreading its stench.
Tymora was angered by the cult, indeed, but more by his devoted follower who'd been irresponsible enough to let such a thing happen. When James awoke, his clothes and belongings were gone, along with the beautiful woman. She'd stolen everything he owned, and left him only a note that read "Sucker." Humiliated, he trekked back to what was left of the shrine, cringing at the stench. He approached the shrine in wonder of what could have caused the horrid smell, and upon sight of the ruins, his skin paled. Tymora spoke to him once more, for the final time.
He had been cursed for his failure. Because he could not bear his luck responsibly, he would have none at all. James' luck would, instead, be given to all those around him, and he would only be left with misfortune. James was eighteen years old, without a home, without possessions, without a God, and clearly without luck. So, he turned toward the road, departing toward his home town, to see what the world had to offer him, and if, perhaps, it was possible to survive without luck.
Coincidentally, a postman met him on the road, somehow aware of who James was, and handed him a letter. It was from his family, signed by his father, with six simple words. "You are no son of mine." James had to double check and see if it was addressed to the right person- surely, his luck couldn't have been that bad.
"To: James Luckless, From: Wallace Gherringer-" his father's name.
Indeed. It was that bad.
Alignment: Neutral Good Favored Enemy: NONE AT ALL, PLEASE.
Favored Weapon: Anything that won't result in him hurting himself.
Deity: Formerly Tymora; James was abandoned.
Current Task: 1.
Survive without his luck - Failed: "I think you're dead, Jim..."2.
Try not to piss anyone off - Completed?3.
Succeed at something. - CompletedInventory+Leather Boots
+Leather Leggings
+Leather Bracers
+Dirty Tan Cloth Shirt.
+Carving Knife
Thu Jul 23, 2009 10:23 am
