Dramatus was born to nobles. His family was well respected for being heavy of purse, pure of lineage, and kind of heart. It was most certainly the latter of these attributes that Dramatus hated most about his wretched family. His parents thought of themselves as clean of soul and never strayed from the path they saw as righteous. They gave their money frivolously, they sheltered filthy peasants off the streets within their own walls. Dramatus hated those peasants. Soiling everything they looked at with their filth, allowed to roam freely through the gates of his family. On many occasions Dramatus saw fit to slit their throats, have the bodies disposed of and fool his parents into believing that they must have just wandered off. Well to say that Dramatus slit the throats of his victims would be inaccurate; he much preferred to lodge an arrow in between their eyes. A bow allowed him to stay far away from the grime and smell of his targets.

Dramatus learned the way of the bow from an early age. He was desperate to learn how to end lives and archery was the only form of any deadly art that Dramatus’ parents allowed him to practice. Even his own mother, that vile fool of a woman, forced Dramatus to deny the blood that flowed within him. Within the body of his mother flowed the blood of a natural born sorcerer. That same blood filled the veins of Dramatus. Always he could feel it inside him, a power he knew he had but could not bring to fruition, much less control. His mother denied what she was, convinced of the fallacy that sourcerous ways were inherently demonic and evil in nature. She repressed her power and so too denied Dramutus from realizing his by keeping him always ignorant of what he was capable of. So Dramatus had his bow, and a rage barely controlled, burning inside of him.

Dramatus searched for books that might shed some light on his natural power and how he could learn to harness it. Countless hours, days, weeks, months he searched the land yet to no avail. Somehow his parents, with their great influence and wealth, managed to keep Dramatus always in the dark about his natural gift. However, Dramatus had attracted some attention from certain individuals in his vast studies and attempts at divining answers to his myriad of questions.

Alagar was just another rotten putrid peasant; unclean, unshaven, dirt in his beard and the smell of urine and cheap alcohol permeating his clothes. You must understand that Dramatus had never known the name of a peasant, so when he heard this one introduce himself Dramatus was angered. He later became furious and he found he could not remove the name from his mind. Endlessly “Alagar” rung in his ears as if it were constantly being whispered to him. This sparked a great rage in Dramatus and he saw no other option but to kill this miserable Alagar as quickly as possible. Alagar frequently took walks to the local tavern late at night; Dramatus saw this as the perfect opportunity. He sat atop an empty guard tower on the border of his families’ estate with his bow in hand. As soon as Alagar was easily in sight Dramatus loosed an arrow and it flew straight and true right into the back of the head of that wretch Alagar. Dramatus began to dismantle his bow when he realized Alagar was still standing, the arrow lying broken on the ground at the peasants’ feet. Dramatus quickly restrung his bow and notched another arrow, when he looked down to fire again at Alagar he could not find the man. The slimy commoner had vanished into thin air. Just then Dramatus felt a searing pain seep through his body, it was a cold pain, so cold it almost froze his heart and made him feel like his entire body was engulfed in white flame. He fell to the ground, limp and dazed.

Dramatus looked up to see Alagar standing over him. His beard was clean, his hair which had always been covered by a ragged hat was now visible, it was long, straight and silver, just like the color of his beard. Alagar had draped over his back an elegant black cloak and on his shoulder a large raven whose entirety; feathers, eyes, beak, were all darker than the darkest night. Alagar spoke to Dramatus in a voice so deep and powerful it seemed to shake the stone wall on which they sat “You’re time has come young sorcerer” he said. And indeed it was now the time of Dramatus.

Alagar was a powerful sorcerer who had known Dramatus’ mother. Alagar told stories of how Dramatus’ mother had tried to hide from her power and had angered many sorcerers in the process. She had more or less been bred to be a very powerful sorceress and when she revoked her natural calling there were many who called for her head having put so much time and resources into her “creation”. Using her great power she completely altered herself, so much so that most of her power was lost. It was as if a man of great strength used his power to lunge himself at a fixed blade to remove his limbs; so using his power to rid himself of his strength. But all the power in Dramatus’ mother was not gone, for much of it now flowed in him.

In secret Alagar began to teach Dramatus the ways of the sorcerer. Dramatus became more and more powerful every day. He couldn’t believe his mother had willfully given this up; he now hated her more than he ever had even imagined he could. When he finally killed her in her sleep he wished he could have made it a far more painful and lingering death. However he feared she may yet retain some of her power so he decided a quick arrow through her head to be the safest option. His father, on the other hand, was not so lucky. He died slowly, by a dagger. In fact Dramatus was fairly certain there was still some life left in the eyes of his father when they gazed upon his own heart pulsing its final bloody beats.

Dramatus was now the soul benefactor to his families’ vast wealth. However, Alagar demanded that in exchange for teaching Dramatus the ways of the sorcerer that he sign over everything to him. Dramatus complied without hesitation. He could truly care less about wealth having now gained that which he held most dear; the freedom and ability to use his power. Dramatus took with him very few things; his beautiful bow, the elegant pearl handled dagger he used to slay his father, some clothes, a few odd coins, and the raven that had been sitting on Alagars’ shoulder. Its name was Lenore and it was over 150 years old. It spoke demonic which Dramatus could also speak. The dark foul was a great source of wisdom and knowledge, it indeed knew much more about the ways of the sorcerer than Dramatus himself.

Though Dramatus’ rage burns far less violently now that he is finally free from all that which held him back in his youth he still holds great hatred in his heart for any that remind him of his parents. The lawfully good ways of paladins greatly anger him. Though he may disagree with the beliefs of those around him Dramatus is not so foolish as to desire to live his life in seclusion with naught but Lenore to keep him company. He realizes that his powers are still weak and his knowledge limited. Dramatus enjoys being with a group of adventurers and is willing to attempt almost any task regardless of the motives behind it. However he is prone to act rashly out of anger and desire for self gain. Though money is not incredibly important to him his quest for more power drives him with great fervor.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License