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Markos the Pathfinder

I am Markos, known as the Pathfinder, born of an elven soldier and a human maid. My father had hoped I would follow in his footsteps and that naming me after the God of War might grant me protection.

Alas, I never knew my father. My mother, bless her soul, did not say much about him. Only that he loved us and his absence was not by choice. It was only later that I came to understand the stigma of a human and an elf loving each other.

As such, I grew up with no friends my own age. I would spend my days alone in the woods, practicing with a makeshift shortbow I had fashioned with a green sapling and stripped vines.

One day, while completely engrossed trying to track some unfamiliar footprints, I was startled by a bear. The bear chased me into a part of the forest I haven't been in before. It took me a day and part of the next to finally make my way back to my mother's hut. That misadventure is how I became known as the Pathfinder.

My mixed heritage has endowed me with a lithe muscular body on a 5'11" frame. Days spent outdoors has given my skin the color of mahogany. Numerous scratches criss-cross my arms from pushing through dense underbrush. I keep my reddish-brown hair shoulder length and unkempt in a feeble attempt to hide my pointed ears and slanted brown eyes.

Unbeknownst to myself, I had already embarked on the path of a ranger. I can live off the land but I should also be able to make a bit of coin collecting bounties on monsters.

The weight of prophecy hangs heavy on me and drives me to seek out ever greater conquests. I know I have much to learn. I need to seek out allies and build up my strength if I am to be Ruler of Kings.

Pathfinder Markos

A Sentimental Value

Before I left my old home, I went to a corner of the garden and started to dig. Not too long, I had unearthed an old flail of elven make. It had belonged to my father. I never knew why my mother buried the weapon but I suspect it had something to do with protecting my heritage. Still, she showed me where it was buried and said something about my birth right. I wrap it in an old cloak and head out wondering if the flail was a clue to my destiny.

Markos the Pathfinder Post Play & MMORPG RPG Text

Advisor Description

I arrive in town near dusk hungry and homeless. Above the usual stench wafts the aroma of roasting meat. I follow the smell and discover the tavern. Upon entering, I spy a buxom wench wiping the tables. She looks up as I close the door and gives me a warm smile and a knowing look. She comes over and says under her breath, "Thou hast taken thy sweet time arriving." In a normal voice she declares, "Welcome, laddie! What can I get thee?"

I stare musingly at her. Does she know me? Why did she seem to be waiting for me? More questions swirl in my head but are quickly set aside when she came back bearing a large platter of roast venison with potatoes and a flagon of ale. "Eat, drink, and later we'll talk. Find me behind the inn when you're ready." I nod, already stuffing my mouth with meat, unable to reply properly.

Pathfinder Markos

Reflections On Your Mother

My most vivid memory of my mother was her eyes. I have never seen such loneliness and longing on another. Oftentimes, she would pause whatever she was doing and look out over the forest as if searching for a sign. She would then sigh and continue with what she was doing, as if resigned to the knowledge that what she was waiting for would never return.

Pathfinder Markos

Reflections on your father

I have never known my father. I have been told that he was an elven soldier of some renown but much remains a mystery. His flail, which I have inherited, has curious markings which might pertain to his family. I resolve to discover more about him when I am more sufficiently equipped to undertake such quest.

Markos the Pathfinder

While a Woodsman may be difficult for some a Woodsman is no match for me.

Markos Pathfinder

Message to Advisor

I had been talking to the people of the town and offering my services. I had managed to attract the attention of the Thieves' Guild and they had offered to teach me their ways. Know that I do this not for evil intent but for the knowledge and skills it will impart.

Markos Pathfinder Text RPG MMORPG & Play Post

Breath of life comes to Markos the Pathfinder. I, Markos, have died but am alive again! To mine wonder-struck I am here for 1st time in this fantastical era. Maybe mine end purpose is not as it should be.