Vincent Vale

General Information
Full Name:	Vincent Vale
Nicknames:	Vince
Age:	34
Deity:	Rejected
Alignment:	LG LN LE NG TN NE CG CN CE
Occupation:	Cleric
Faction/Rank:	Pseudo-Athar
Place of Birth:	Enthar
Physical Attributes
Height:	6'5"
Weight:	258 lbs
Eyes:	Azure
Hair:	Charcoal
Complexion:	Fair
Physical Build:	Stout
Physical Features:	See Photo
Skills
Magic, Swordplay
Equipment and Items
Full Plate, Mask, Sword, Shield

Personality

Vincent is a man consisting of as much reserve as mystery. Little of his past is known to others, save for a few close companions. He is one with little patience for wordplay or devices, often preferring blunt statements over lavish narratives. Due to his previously solitary lifestyle, Vincent's quiet stoicism is generally interpreted as intimidating. Likewise, his size and skill with a blade have been known contributors to that perception. Vincent has been known to let his guard down in the right company. Those who know him best may even share a laugh once in a while.

Religion

Vincent's religious ideologies are closely related to one of Sigil's factions known as the Athar. He follows no deity and argues that power, especially the power of gods, is to be respected rather than worshipped. While he usually does not directly associate himself with the Deniers, he does agree with much of their philosophy. Likewise, instead of faithfully serving a patron, he has the ability to channel divine energy through the Great Unknown. Vincent came to his current understanding when he left his home to discover the pantheon he once knew was limited to his imagination. He now believes what society refers to as gods are merely ascended mortals with great power.

History

Vincent originates from an insignificant and distant prime world consisting of a single planet and star. The Enthar belong to a particular sub race of human with various aspects that set them apart from the norm. Some of the greater differences are psychological traits, such as having abstract notions of beauty. In his youth, Vincent was a shy and soft-spoken child with an affinity for manipulating energy. Magic was a rare ability among his people and his natural instinct was considered a great gift. At a young age, he was taken from his home and placed in a small covenant of similarly prodigious youth. Far from any city was a temple built on top of a cavernous ruin that predated their civilization. The grounds were treated as a holy place, despite nothing truly being known of the faded runes depicted on the great central archway. In their naivety, the Entharians believed it would one day open to the heavens of their creators as a final test.

As time passed and lingering memories filled Vincent’s head, he began to miss his family more each day. He fought the pain, knowing his time with the other gifted would grant his underprivileged family some small amount of honor. As years past with this guiding thought, Vincent’s abilities rivaled that of the adults in his community. He could not explain his own skill, as it was more of a burning ache inside of him that manifested with his emotions. He learned early on that the other children shunned him for his differences, and yet he was glad for it. Magic was the one thing in his life that he could always appreciate, the only thing that made sense.

When Vincent came of age, the desire to escape his life had burned through him like a fever. The elders in his covenant could no longer teach him anything he had not already done better himself. He wanted nothing better than to travel and experience the world firsthand, but he knew it he would never have the chance. His path was ahead of him, confined to the temple for his lifespan to pass on knowledge as others had done before him. Restlessness eventually took Vincent one night and he abandoned his bed to visit the ruins as he had done so many sleepless nights before. The darkness of the vast hall loomed around his flickering candle as he stared upon the colossal gateway with unfading awe. A haze crept over him where he sat, and before long, he curled up and slept like a child once more. He dreamed of freedom.

Vincent was thrust awake in a thrashing fit of cold sweat on the damp stone floor. When he lifted his hands,
they were a luminescent pulse of energy. The light branched out, connecting him to swirling patterns of magic
ascending up the two great pillars of the archway. To his terror, he saw a flicker of energy as a doorway tore
open before him. A fierce wind overtook him and began pulling him toward the unyielding threshold. He
desperately clawed at the rocky floor, but the fury of the tempest sucked him into the darkness of the vortex.
The last thing his mind could comprehend was a great eye looking back at him through the gateway, then
nothingness. He drifted between existence, unaware, yet not truly asleep. Bleak, dreamless emptiness was
his only existence for uncountable lifetimes until, at last, a crack of light in the veil of blackness swept open
before him. His first conscious moment in ageless oblivion was a raw understanding that everyone he had
ever known was gone.

After being jaunted from his dimension, the knowledge of planar travel opened new possibilities for Vincent.
The fear of remaining alone drove him to master the skill within a year. After that point, he spent the better
part of his life combing the planes for his small home. For each world he searched, he learned little more and
became a little stronger. The realms he encountered were numerous and perilous, but he came to know
determination. There were times when Vincent felt as though he might actually belong somewhere, but he
never allowed himself to linger long. The yearning for his home ever bubbled under the surface until his
restless spirit pushed him on again. It wasn’t until a decade later that Vincent found himself gazing upon a
familiar sky. After two weeks of crossing the wilderness, he finally came to the crumbling ruin that
was his home. In his heart, he knew a great amount of time had passed, but never had he suspected this.
He truly was alone.