Vitasz'kuth Amraahki
"Let the mind be yer guide, cutter...
Imagination is the key! Through imagination, ya can peer 'to the depths of the 'verse and beyond, creatin' wot needs and destroyin' wot needs. Ne'er let yerself be viewed as a common Mindnick or a just sod who got worms in his brain-box. Yer a Blood; 'cause yer an organ wit'in the body that is... the Sign of One!"
- Vitasz'kuth Amraahki, Signer Namer
| Vitas'zkuth | |||||||
| Male Tiefling | |||||||
| Player: SamB123 | |||||||
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| General Information | ||||||||||
| Full Name: | Vitasz'kuth Amraahki | |||||||||
| Nicknames: | "Vitasz" (pronounced Vɪtæzj) | |||||||||
| Age: | 21 | |||||||||
| Deity: | Tharizdun (lip service), Auppenser | |||||||||
| Alignment: |
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| Occupation: | former thief/tout, Egoist | |||||||||
| Faction/Rank: | Sign of One/Namer | |||||||||
| Place of Birth: | Sigil | |||||||||
| Physical Attributes | ||||||||||
| Height: | 5'7"/1.7m | |||||||||
| Weight: | 165lb/75kg | |||||||||
| Eyes: | Deep-set, Red | |||||||||
| Hair: | Black, long with shaved sides | |||||||||
| Complexion: | Light Brown, slightly-scaly skin | |||||||||
| Physical Build: | Lithe | |||||||||
| Physical Features: | Tattoo of a flame and an eye, on right upper arm; ram-like horns; and goat-like legs | |||||||||
| Skills | ||||||||||
| Focus, Discipline, Medicine, Psionics, Planar Lore, | ||||||||||
| Equipment and Items | ||||||||||
| Falcata[1] sword, Brigandine[2] armor | ||||||||||
Disposition
Vitasz'kuth Amraahki is a tiefling psion, unlimited by creeds or heritage. The distant descendant of an unknown fiend, this tiefling is devious and self-reliant. He treats most equally - at arms length, wary of of a friend suddenly becoming a foe. The tiefling also has very little regard for paladins, whom he deems "Puppets".
Vitasz believes that, as a psion, he has the ability to alter reality itself. Despite his cruel outlook, he is usually pragmatic in his dealings.
Aspect
Vitasz'kuth has long, black hair, shaved on the sides, and with a short goatee; light brown, slightly-scaly skin; ram-like horns and legs; and a hisute tail. The tiefling looks to be in his early twenties. His right horn and right ear were marred in an old clash, and both remain misshapen. When he smiles, the psion's red orbs sparkle deviously.
Vitasz tends to adorn himself in tenebrous, austere clothing. He wields a Falcata-like sword, along with his psionics. His accent is characteristic Hiver, Cant and rude analogues; and occasionally, he calls out in guttural Abyssal, lilting Elven, or even, quite rarely, Goblin.
Backstory
"I was born in the Hive. You want to talk about 'blek', cutter? We were the pile of blek, my brother and I. His name was Siutha... Aye, he's in the deadbook now, shame," says the tiefling, Vitasz'kuth Amraahki, to his drinking companion, a Clueless who wanted to try Razorwine.
The two had obviously been at the bar long enough to get 'bubbed till the pitchers' empty', as they say. In one short-clawed hand, the tiefling held a cigar. In the other, he held a glass of razorwine. A discerning patron could see the Clueless was the drunker of the two. The dark was, after the first pitcher was empy, Vitasz'kuth hid an empty jug below his chair and poured the rest of his liquor into the jug. It was a business tactic of his to act more drunk than he really was, to put the Clueless sods at ease.
Vitasz'kuth was telling the wide-eyed Clueless, who looked like a rich sod, about the Hive.
"As kids, we used to bob leatherheads who'd come into the Hive, green as Primes. Siutha had a knack for which ones would end up like meeting Kurtulmak. My brother would charm the pants off of them, and I'd nick their jinglings. Every so often, I could just think it, and their purse would fall off or they'd trip while I stole their purse.
"It got us enough to get cheap za, some days. Other days, we went hungry. But we never really starved, and that's more than many Hivers can say. Mostly though, we did it because we were rascals."
The tiefling smirked, took a long puff of his cigar and another pull of razorwine. The Clueless hiccuped and giggled, and then Vitasz'kuth laughed heartily before continuing.
"I remember when I first manifested my power. My brother and I were trailing this sod who was carrying a large sack of jink. He had two guards with him. I remember thinking to myself, 'I wish I could just cause those berks to fall asleep'. I just kept thinking about it, until it was all I could think about.
"After several minutes, jink-bags and his addle-coves yawned and decided to stop. I kept concentrating. They fell into a sleep deep, quick as snapping yer fingers, and then we nicked a few dozen jink and piked off before they woke. "I only managed to do things like that on rare occasions in the future, but it always felt good when I could."
"The one trick was, sometimes my brother couldn't tell who were trying to bob, whether they were a blood or an addle-cove. That's when they'd give us the laugh, instead of the other way 'round. "Nothin' stitches you like knowing that someone detected your minor mind tricks, aye? It seems the potential cony was sometimes a mindnick who just knew!"
A pained look crossed the tout's face. He takes a 'long pull' of razorwine, as if steadying himself with the liquor.
"And that's how Siutha died. We got greedy, figured we'd bob a Cambion who was walking through the Hive. Giving fiends the laugh was always tricky, but we were just gleaming pips not worth the chase. Well, this Cambion, turns out he was a Signer and not the nice kind.
"He snatched Siutha's hand, took a long look at him, and said, 'I imagine you dead'. Next moment, Siutha is a pile of blood-red blek, and I'm doing the bolt. All I could think was, 'Think fast, Vitasz'kuth! Think fast!' I managed to concentrate and to accelerate my body."
Vitasz'kuth takes another long 'drink', eyes wide from the memory. The Clueless looks sympathetic, and takes a long gulp of Razorwine himself.
"I was about fifteen when that happened, reckon eight years ago. I earned a book after that. First off, I started to wonder if the little mind tricks I had could become more. As horrible as it was watching my brother turn into red blek, that sure seemed like useful power - even if the damn memory gives me nightmares."
"Second, I figured I better find a safer occupation than cross-trading. So, I became a tout. Eventually, I worked my way up to where I could guide the Clueless 'round the Clerk's Ward, bashers like yerself.
"Trouble is, I've been a tout for several years now. And I'm pikin' bored, cutter! Bah, I should go join the Signers, maybe even give that Cambion what killed my brother the laugh. Bah!...
"Anyway, berk, you are ful bubbed. This tavern's a good kip. So, if you wouldn't mind my tip? Oh, excellent! Go see the barkeep, aye?"
With a devious smile, Vitasz'kuth collects his pay, shoves the man towards the barkeep, and staggers, backwards, out the door. Snickering to himself, the tiefling holds out the jug of razorwine he hid beneath the table and then behind his back. He had been acting drunk, so the bubbed Clueless would pay more. Most of his razorwine ended up in this jug. Nothing wrong with a tout taking a larger tip, right?
Satisfied, Vitasz'kuth heads towards the Clerk's Ward with his pay and his drink. As his own kip comes into sight, the tiefling tout mutters to himself.
"Ah, pike it. I actually am sick of touting. And I do actually want to grow these powers of mine. So, I'm joining the Sign of One!"
The chant went, Vitasz'kuth's tale about how his brother ended up in the deadbook, it was the truth. The tiefling apparently woke up the next morning and headed over to the Hall of Speakers, determined to join the Signers.
Affiliates & Disputants
Associates:
1. Signers
2. Noric Sunhorn, the traveler
Rivals:
1. Paladins (in general)