Difference between revisions of "Art Denson"
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The Densons are one of the [[Ostpadash#The_Peoples|old families of Ostpadash]] that generally made tools for people digging in the dirt. Unlike most good sons, Art didn't take to learning the family craft from his father. At every chance, he'd slip away from any responsibility given to him, a trick he was phenomenally good at. If he had his way, and he usually did, he'd pinch a book from one of the modest libraries that a few families kept, and spend his hours hidden away, reading and re-reading the same old texts. He'd catch a belting for it as often as not, but it was better than honest labor. | The Densons are one of the [[Ostpadash#The_Peoples|old families of Ostpadash]] that generally made tools for people digging in the dirt. Unlike most good sons, Art didn't take to learning the family craft from his father. At every chance, he'd slip away from any responsibility given to him, a trick he was phenomenally good at. If he had his way, and he usually did, he'd pinch a book from one of the modest libraries that a few families kept, and spend his hours hidden away, reading and re-reading the same old texts. He'd catch a belting for it as often as not, but it was better than honest labor. | ||
| − | One of the libraries, kept by a Ostpadash's resident crazy old man, had some of the most interesting books. Most weren't in any language Art could identify. Never the less, a few of the unidentifiable scripts was still legible to Art. It was a strange text, talking about maths he really didn't understand and the creeping, unnoticed influence of the shadow on everything that is exposed to light. This shadow wasn't just a normal physical thing. It was | + | One of the libraries, kept by a Ostpadash's resident crazy old man, had some of the most interesting books. Most weren't in any language Art could identify. Never the less, a few of the unidentifiable scripts was still legible to Art. It was a strange text, talking about maths he really didn't understand and the creeping, unnoticed influence of the shadow on everything that is exposed to light. This shadow wasn't just a normal physical thing. It was alive. And not evil, so much as old, patient, and implacable. Reading this book did strange things to Art, awoke strange feelings. Not those strange things. Other books did that fine thankyouverymuch. But the book made a kind of natural sense to Art. Everything about it felt right. Somehow or another, Art discovered the book followed him home. Maybe he held onto it unconsciously. Maybe the crazy old man snuck it in his bed. Who knows. |
But reading the book convinced Art he wasn't cut out for hammering shovel heads and turning broom sticks like his dad. So he ran away. Not working and reading doesn't pay well. Following the advice of an old book, running off into the forest, and selling what you find rarely pays better, but Art has found a way to make it work. | But reading the book convinced Art he wasn't cut out for hammering shovel heads and turning broom sticks like his dad. So he ran away. Not working and reading doesn't pay well. Following the advice of an old book, running off into the forest, and selling what you find rarely pays better, but Art has found a way to make it work. | ||
Revision as of 08:06, 4 September 2013
Contents
Character Summary
Art is a man out of time. He'd probably be more comfortable in some small, cloistered private college out in rural New England. Quietly studying art history, writing books eight people read, making snarky comments about deluded religionists that believe something different than him, and wrapped in a social bubble with few dissenting opinions and a uniform sense of smugness about those poor, deluded souls outside of the bubble. Instead, he's stuck in this dark-ages analog of a game, where people are totally different. For example, the deluded religionists are more likely to chain you to a granite slab and open your belly. Which is both offensive to civilized morals and really hurts.
So Art gets by the best he can. He spends his time cloistered in old ruins, documenting old art, collecting old art, selling anything that isn't nailed down, prying nails out of things. It's nice to turn a profit, but profit is just there to keep him in life's essentials while he hunts down the next old, abandoned ruin.
Background
Known
The Densons are one of the old families of Ostpadash that generally made tools for people digging in the dirt. Unlike most good sons, Art didn't take to learning the family craft from his father. At every chance, he'd slip away from any responsibility given to him, a trick he was phenomenally good at. If he had his way, and he usually did, he'd pinch a book from one of the modest libraries that a few families kept, and spend his hours hidden away, reading and re-reading the same old texts. He'd catch a belting for it as often as not, but it was better than honest labor.
One of the libraries, kept by a Ostpadash's resident crazy old man, had some of the most interesting books. Most weren't in any language Art could identify. Never the less, a few of the unidentifiable scripts was still legible to Art. It was a strange text, talking about maths he really didn't understand and the creeping, unnoticed influence of the shadow on everything that is exposed to light. This shadow wasn't just a normal physical thing. It was alive. And not evil, so much as old, patient, and implacable. Reading this book did strange things to Art, awoke strange feelings. Not those strange things. Other books did that fine thankyouverymuch. But the book made a kind of natural sense to Art. Everything about it felt right. Somehow or another, Art discovered the book followed him home. Maybe he held onto it unconsciously. Maybe the crazy old man snuck it in his bed. Who knows.
But reading the book convinced Art he wasn't cut out for hammering shovel heads and turning broom sticks like his dad. So he ran away. Not working and reading doesn't pay well. Following the advice of an old book, running off into the forest, and selling what you find rarely pays better, but Art has found a way to make it work.
Until he was 'wrongly' arrested for trucking in forbidden artifacts. He was scooped up by some idiot local lord looking to make numbers and put into jail with a couple of rubes. Funny thing was though, Art really was trucking in forbidden artifacts. He just had the good sense to leave them buried. So there he was, arrested on trumped up charges that he actually was guilty of, and no one knew it.
Unknown/To be discovered
* Something about his lineage. Kind of interesting that he's got innate magic powers, and is so good at making new magic items.
Stats
Art Denson's in .xls on Google Drive Art is aligned with the Scholar.
Stuff
The Dancing Bear
The Dancing Bear is a thinly veiled cover for unsavory types to get together and transact some non-violent, consensual, cash-based business. Or maybe it was a den of inequity first and everyone realized that business is hungry work. Who knows?
Unearth
Art carries a longbow he crafted named Unearth. Unearth is nearly six feet tall when unstrung, and made of a zebrawood duramen. Small arms and hands are engraved on the wood to appear to pull apart the grains, 'unearthing' whatever may be found within.
In truth, Unearth is the magical antithesis of earth. When activated, the arms animate and pull the seams of the bow apart releasing a portion of a cyclone bound within the wood of the bow. These arms form the cyclone into a wall, per the Wall of Wind spell.
