Alec, the Bleak Pilgrim
| "Alec" | |||||||
| Male Human - Prime Material | |||||||
| Player: Smart Alec | |||||||
|
| General Information | ||||||||||
| Full Name: | unknown | |||||||||
| Nicknames: | The Bleak Pilgrim, The Man with the Hat | |||||||||
| Age: | estimated late 40s | |||||||||
| Deity: | unknown | |||||||||
| Alignment: |
| |||||||||
| Occupation: | Travelling Scholar | |||||||||
| Faction/Rank: | Factotum, Bleak Cabal | |||||||||
| Place of Birth: | unknown Prime | |||||||||
| Physical Attributes | ||||||||||
| Height: | 6' 3" | |||||||||
| Weight: | 152 lbs | |||||||||
| Eyes: | Pale Green | |||||||||
| Hair: | Dark Brown, Lank | |||||||||
| Complexion: | Pale, sickly | |||||||||
| Physical Build: | Spare, undernourished | |||||||||
| Physical Features: | Large nose; scar across right eye and cheek | |||||||||
| Skills | ||||||||||
| Arcanery, Research, Planar Politics, Knowledge of the Lower Planes, Detective Work, Stage Magic | ||||||||||
| Equipment and Items | ||||||||||
| A wooden staff, a satchel, a dagger, a Hat, a Book | ||||||||||
And all the woe that moved him so
That he gave that bitter cry,
And the wild regrets, the bloody sweats,
None knew so well as I:
For he who lives more lives than one
More deaths than one must die.
- Oscar Wilde
---
Few remember when this spellslinger first found his way onto the Planes. But he's become a veteran planeswalker, noted traveller, and sage-for-hire, following his own path across the Great Wheel. It's hard to know what to make of him: on the one hand, he has a solid reputation as a capable companion, with a series of minor tales springing up around his deeds. But on the other, more sinister stories have begun to grow, competing for light with the older, more innocent ones. Alec has increasingly become known by the unflattering moniker bestowed upon him in recent times - that of the 'Bleak Pilgrim'.
That Which Is Seen
If I am mad, it is mercy! May the gods pity the man who in his callousness can remain sane to the hideous end.
- H. P. Lovecraft
---
Enough know the chant on this blood to know him by sight, and some of the details are there - a human, tall, thin, middle-aged, dressed in heavy travelling clothes. A sharp, thin face, with a scar across the right cheek and an impressively beaky nose. A broad-brimmed hat, a wooden staff, a patched cloak, a gloved right hand. It's all as you might hear. But all it takes is a look to know things aren't quite right.
Far from well-built, with a scrawny, underfed look, his skin is tinged an unpleasant grey. Clothes with the well-worn look of once-careful maintenance are falling into disrepair, with rents, small tears and frayed edges becoming ever more pronounced. He mutters soundlessly to himself at random intervals. He constantly glances all around him in confusion, uncertainty or mistrust.
But the most apparent detail is only clear to those versed in magic, or with senses beyond the normal. A touch of chill power hangs around him like a pall of faint mist - certainly arcane, and tinged with desolate inhumanity. The touch of the Grey Waste is unmistakeable.
That Which Is Heard
As a man's real power grows and his knowledge widens, ever the way he can follow grows narrower: until at last he chooses nothing, but does only and wholly what he must do...
- Ursula K. Le Guin
---
Some things are known for sure. Alec's travelled in the company of some notable Planeswalkers, and had his name attached to some strange stories. From outwitting ancient immortals to fighting in the Blood War, from battling with the spawn of Powers, to somehow winning Cage-wide beauty contests - and from defeating Hive gang-lords and their thug armies, to duelling illithid spelljammers in the Outlands sky. To hear some tell it, Alec even fought the King of the Nine Hells himself to decide the fate of a world.
All screed, of course, but there's no denying this mage has just made as many enemies as he has friends.
Alec seemed, in many ways, to be the quintessential Bleaker planeswalker - willing to endure the madness of the cosmos as it comes, rather than make his lot any easier. He'll often speak about his Faction's philosophy, debating those who look for meaning or purpose outside their own minds and hearts. He's known around the Gatehouse as a Factotum of the Cabal, and works to keep the most dangerous inmates of the Gatehouse contained. And in keeping with Bleaker tradition, he only ever goes by a single, four-letter name, with the rest forgotten as irrelevant and pointless.
But now? More than one old friend's disturbed by what he is now. Some've spoken of the air turning chill at his approach, or of sudden breezes heralding his arrival, guttering candles and flickering flames. Others've told of a flickering unreality about him, of footsteps that don't quite match up to footfalls. More still mention sudden, dangerous bursts of magic coinciding with flares of a temper he struggles to keep under control. The fear is that the Bleak Pilgrim has taken one arcane step too far... and no-one valuing their skin gets too close to a Madman wizard on the edge.
That Which Is Known
The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers of love is Hell.
- C. S. Lewis
---
Alec's been around a lot, and made a few friends. He treats other veteran planeswalker survivors of the Ironridge disaster well, including the paladin Alinda, and the fey musician Nairna. He temporarily took caretaking duties for the Archives after the disappearance of the building's owner, Shalira. He's an old acquaintance of the Godsman smith and warrior Saevio - the pair may be as different as two mortals can be, but they've many shared memories to muse on.
In Sigil, he's made other friends. In recent times, he's been seen more and more around the Gatehouse, supplementing the staff of the Criminally and Irretrievably Insane Ward, wearing the rank of Factotum and hanging around with fellow Bleaker planeswalkers, such as the blunt-speaking researcher Zilan, the sneaky psionicist Aria, the tragically dramatic poet Scarlett, and the bitter warrior Benja. He's befriended fellow arcanists, like the respectable Hyeronimous, the Thayan planeswalkers Nezhara of the Guvners and Sezela of the Sensates, and the fey-spirited Sensate Factor, Tasha. And he regularly speaks amiably with other mysterious and influential figures in the Cage, such as Tasha's partner and Signer Factor, the succubus Chandra - and the mysterious merchant Ajumat.
There was a time when Alec and the one-time mercenary and Doomlord, Nullus, fought as adversaries - but it's known they fougnt alongside one another against the armies of Pazrael's 'Alliance of Change', and now, Nullus and his wife Katya seem on cordial terms with the wizard. But it's not all friendships, as Alec has rocky relationships with powerful figures like the Sensate warrior Aesgil, who finds the wizard's bleak attitudes contemptible, and the Fated Factor and mistress of Blackbird Wizard's Academy, Rosaline, who shows him nothing but scornful antipathy.
But there's an old tale to tell, of an ill-fated voyage into the heart of Darkness aboard the spelljammer, the Freedom's Keel - a journey that saw its captain, Regand the Blue, dead. Alec was among those who survived that journey, alongside the famed Athar Factor, Vincent, and his partner, the gatecrasher and proprietor of the Ubiquitous Wayfarer, Aerin - but they rarely speak of what happened. Almost all the others have disappeared... either on the voyage itself, or in the years to come, fighting in the troubles that followed.
That Which Is Borne
Perilous to us all are the devices of an art deeper than we possess ourselves.
- J. R. R. Tolkien
---
Alec's Hat has been attached to his head for as long as anyone can remember - which is another way of saying that before he found the Hat, no-one could remember much about him. And when not wearing it, Alec seems somehow diminished. Though none know for sure, the stories of how Alec came by such a notable piece of headwear are numerous - a gift by some forgotten Power of Magic, a magical focus crafted from the remains of a broken demi-plane, a sentient piece of headgear containing the souls of a dozen arch-mages, a relic of an ancient civilisation given new, strange form...
Regardless, the wizard is always protective of the Hat, unwilling to let it be worn or even left in the hands of others, especially other arcanists. It certainly seems content to stay there, remaining on the man's head despite wind, rain or worse. If anyone knows what powers it contains, then they aren't talking - but given its continued survival despite being on the head of a man in such a risky and explosive vocation, there must be something to it.
---
The talk of the Hat, however, pales against stories of the Book chained to Alec's side. On the outside, it seems as shabby and ill-kept as the man himself, a thick, rough-cut grimoire bound with patchwork skin and haphazard stitching, with no dweomer or magical aura that any can notice. Those who have caught a glimpse of its contents tell of page after page covered with red-inked words in many languages, hand-drawn arcane diagrams, and illustrations of unsettling creatures - all laid down in a spidery hand, determined to use every yellowing inch. And yet, sometimes, a page is left completely blank, with no indication of why it was so.
The Book is rarely seen, but it's remembered by the few who have seen it. Tales persist of Alec confronting beings of monstrous power, or planar breaches of hideous conception, and defeating them with nothing more than the words read from the Book. Some have suggested that the Book is a compendium of secrets that the wizard has found on his Pilgrimage, some lost volume discovered by chance. Others suspect that the Book is something granted by some Fiend-Lord of waste-lore, a mark of some pact of servitude that the wizard is bound to. A few claim they've seen the Book take on the appearance of bone and skin when Alec has read from it, and of the words within dripping blood or ink. They insist that it's not a Book at all, but something more malign.
But one or two speak of another, worse possibility - that he might just have written the Book himself. And if so, that the scope of the work that the Book represents may not even be complete.
That Which Is Spoken
All magicians lie. And this one, more than most.
- Suzannah Clarke
---
- After the long work of opposing the demonic Alliance of Change alongside the assembled planeswalkers of Sigil, Alec had disappeared, and was thought dead - only for him to stumble to stumble out of a portal into Sigil years later, gasping in relief, and muttering about having been lost in the Lower Planes. Some were seemingly happy to see him, but what his reappearance means remains to be seen...
- Alec is said to be the leader of the Saturnine Eye - a small society, interested in learning about magic and alchemy. Strange screeds and riddles were found around the Cage as a method of recruitment, writings on far-out ideas about the the nature of arcane, divine, druidic, bardic and psionic power, the roots of planar reality, and the power of self-transformation by facing darkness. Though only a few were interested at the time, there's no telling how many may have joined the Eye since.
- Alec is a Factotum of the Bleak Cabal, taking on the duties of a warden of the Criminally and Irretrievably Insane Ward - a part of the Gatehouse reserved for prisoners too unstable and dangerous for even the Prison to hold them. Notable is the hideous fate of the woman who formerly held the post, reduced to bones by the servants of the Temple of the Abyss - but more concerning were the scribbled words seen around the less bright parts of Sigil, hailing the coming of the Bleak King as a sign of impending apocalypse.
- Sometimes, when Alec seems distracted, those who speak to him are often left feeling that the world has grown older around them while they did so. The places he's been are left with a sense that the best parts of life - love, laughter, innocence - are slipping unstoppably into the past. A mark of Hades is upon him, his magic draws from dark parts of the Wasteward planes, and even as mortals eye him with fear, ancient fiends and strange beings of power greet him like an old friend.
- Not so long ago, some sort of terrible secret or curse hounded Alec, and whatever cure or relief he sought, he didn't find it. He was seen in distress or pain, or trying to control small bursts of wild magic, muttering something about clockwork. The effects seem to have passed, but they've left their mark - the wizard's become harsher, sharper and nastier, less willing to tolerate fools or hold back from using his powers, letting his personal grooming fall into shambles, and preaching about the 'ignored potency of the mortal mind', whatever that means.
- Alec once was more than willing to aid the studies and pad the spellbooks of those that seem willing to do the same. But of late it's hard not to miss the fascination he has with new magic and unusual power, a fascination that borders on greed. More than that, there's a recent distrust and paranoia in his eyes - something that speaks of a fresh betrayal. One thing's for sure - he keeps his cards a lot closer now.
- The druids and hunters of Faunel are wary of this one, as it's claimed he was responsible for opening a virulent demonic rift in the lands around the Gate-town, resulting in a large stretch of trees being corrupted and warped by the energies of the Abyss. Though it's also said he was responsible for closing that same rift with the magic of his Book, the damage done to the local area will take generations to fully heal.
- He was once arrested by the Order of the Planes-Militant for capital crimes, and though he was seemingly acquitted, the word continues to spread that he was only freed by some act of blackmail or coercion that left even the Tome Archon Council of Mount Celestia unable to act against him. Given the typical response of the Tome Archons is to set wayward planeswalkers to climb the Mount, this must have been an unusual case somehow...
- Others have unfriendly eyes on this one. Some months ago, a cadre of Babau assassins began stalking and attacking the wizard's friends and associates, a spree of terror that ended with him taking a journey into the Abyss. It's rumoured that the sponsor of these assassins was none other than the succubus doyenne, Red Shroud - and that whatever conflict arose between her and the wizard remains unresolved.
- Though some say the wizard's changed in recent times, others'll say he was never as clean as he claimed to be. There are more than a few rumours that Alec's hired mercenaries in the past to take care of some shady Lower Planar jobs, the kind of jobs that some have even refused to take part in. Other disturbing rumours from his former planar activities include making deals with Neogi slavers, working as an enforcer for Hive crime-lords, pledging his soul to a spiteful Power of Chaos in return for her favour, and even being a member of the forbidden sect, the Incantifiers.
- Alec is the wandering avatar of Odin. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? But when you read the legends; a wandering traveller with a staff and broad hat, a knowledgable sort with power, being crucified on the Tree of Wisdom... well, it's one theory. Whatever's walking around in his shape these days, it doesn't feel wholly human, and it's a lot harsher for sure.
- The 'Mage's Collective' was his idea - a gathering of planeswalker spellcasters willing to co-operate in industrial and domestic magic projects, to earn their way into being members of Sigil's prestigious wizard's guild, the Society of the Lumeniferous Aether. Though the idea seemed to falter, the word on the street is that he hasn't given up - and is looking to put whoever got in his way the first time into the dead-book.
- There's something odd about this one, something most overlook. Some'll claim he can teleport infallibly even within Sigil, travelling from place to place in a flash - but others'll claim they've known him to be in two or more places at once. More recent stories tell of a three million jink bounty put on his head by someone in Sigil's underworld, and of his body being delivered by the Gatehouse in order to claim it. But if he's dead, then who is that walking around? No-one knows, but the bounty certainly isn't open any more.
- It is known that this one tried to make a living as a freelance information-gatherer and detective, and some can speak of two, possibly three serial murder sprees that were brought to an end due, or at least partly due, to his work. But these stories come with a darker side - that of a man willing to sell information and secrets to the highest bidder, or of working for various planar governments as a spy, or of being willing to use what he knows to blackmail others into furthering his work.
- He's not known for walking around unclothed, but of those who've seen him without his usual attire, they'll tell of a body dotted with old wounds, rough scars, faded burns and other marks of hostile sorcery and violence all over, too many to come from any single battle. His only other distinguishing feature is that of a tattoo on the bicep of his left arm, a simple numeral made in dark ink: XXVI.
- This one famously claims to disdain the intimate company of men or women in favour of other pursuits. His awkward demeanour and gawky looks certainly fit the picture. And yet, tales from Alec's early time on the Planes are confused on the issue, speaking of brief dalliances, longer romances, hearts broken, and even an affair with the partner of a fellow Bleaker.
- Before he came to the Planes a handful of years ago, his previous identity is a void. The man gives away only sparse detail, and even powerful divinations struggle to learn anything about him. He's known to return to the Prime Material from time to time, but as to what he's doing there, it's anyone's guess - he's always careful to obscure his travels with magics and misdirection. But among primitive enough primer people, a planar wizard of power could become a king - or more still, be worshipped as a god.
---
The sane man knows that he has a touch of the beast, a touch of the devil, a touch of the saint, a touch of the citizen. Nay, the really sane man knows that he has a touch of the madman...
- G. K. Chesterton
