Arrnor Flamepaw
Ignore the Wings Until Specified In Character.Name: Arrnor Flamepaw
Rank: Visitor
Actual Age/Apparent Age: 27/100 to 180 Elf/20 to 40 Half-Elf
Gender: Male-Prefered, Flexible
Race: Golarion (Hidden), Flexible
Current Appearance: A young male of some sort of elvish descent.
Description: Approximately six feet tall, and one hundred and fifty pounds, Arrnor Flamepaw is a lithe being with pointed ears and sharp features, elvish in facade, but not in bearing. He takes care to dress extravagantly and enjoys wearing many types of fashions accented with gold bobbles. Such as a pocket watch or a gold Abadarian key.
Abilities/Skills: A well-established self-sufficient Spelljammer Captain and Mercent-Adventurer; obsessed with ideas of capitalism, technology, transformation, and civilization.
History: Hidden
Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Arrnor Flamepaw's life began as many other gnolls. In blood and guts. His life, typical of the nomadic mountain and desert raiders of Ketapesh gnoll tribes. It was a life that had no grand fate or destiny, he would have died as he lived, in the sand and dirt. Savage and useless with petty ambitions of misunderstood wealth and power. If not for a day where a prophet walked into his tribe's camp and slaughtered the chief. This was a howling mad monster, a screaming thing that made little sense who called for the tribe to make holy war on the humans. Of course, that meant dying as cannon fodder in a useless attack, Arnor was no zealot willing to die for an uncaring goddess, in the end he decided this was the time he would make his grand strike for his own tribe. Calling for a split between those fool enough to stay, and those willing to strike a new home range.
In the end, they whipped him for three days and threw him off the mountain and the tribe disintegrated before any grand crusade could be mustered, less vocal cowards fleeing in the night as the bloodthirsty and overconfident deigned to see who would serve higher above the others. The prophet letting the tribe crumble to dust and join the unsightly loose rabble forward.
It was there broken and bloodied he dragged himself deep into the deserts, to die beneath the bones of a great forgotten beast in the Ketapeshi sun. He would die cursing Lamashtu, scoured to the bone by an oncoming sandstorm, the only thing letting him cling to life was the spite and satisfaction that in the end, he was leaving. To his immense surprise, he would awake to find himself being tended to by a passing Merchant. Bound in ropes and bandages. The round face of a Tianese merchant looked down at him, a passing impulse to help even a dying monster saving his life. An heir of a Tianese trade house. It was a tense while, as the man spoke and talked of odd things, home, life, and revenge. Feeding and watering his bound captive, the only thing keeping them safe in the sandstorm a musket and box wagon.
This was a new opportunity. One which Arrnor took. It was a simple request, could he come with the man, to the city where anything could be bought. To Ketapesh. And amazingly, the man said yes. And with this, Arrnor Flamepaw saw something he would have never seen in his life before. He saw what the gnoll people were, ignorant children of an insane mother playing house. Where rotted silks and rusted iron was the peak of wealth and the fact you had fresh meat a delicacy beyond reproach. For the first time ever, he saw wealth and luxury and true trade.
It amazed him for his future and disgusted him to his past. And it fueled his spite, it would be in spite that he would drag himself to true wealth, where silk would clothe him, gold would surround him, and delicacies fed him. Where he would find a new tribe, one that would live like the prey and carrion, the others outside the deserts and mountains. After all, it was an easy realization to make, that his own tribe could have made so much more demanding tithe and guiding those foolhardy caravans instead of raiding him. Ancient uncared for streams, sheltered caves, and beaten paths.
So it was decided. No matter his race, his past, or previous affiliations would keep him from this new dream.
With that, this young gnoll, barely fourteen summers old, who was destined to die young and die unloved in a desert set about learning the ways of merchants. Who's wealth seemed to dwarf all others. Education, technology, ideas, he hoarded and coveted them above all else, for those would be the tools that would build his new future. From his savior and mentor, he got his first tastes of this, as he helped the man with his own troubles. Of murdered family, honor-bound revenge, and bleeding red thievery. A barbarian was needed, a rough killer who did not mind pain and blood. Arrnor was taught in return of the black powder and laws of economics, civilization. Of Abadar, a god of cities, laws, trade...ditches, and walls. Who's teachings seemed all the more comfortable and sensible compared to the oral exhalations of a savage Lamashtu who's only goals lay in madness, an unguided thrashing at a world that pasted by. In time, Arrnor Flamepaw grew a new persona, with magic he disguised himself as a knife eared smooth skin dressed in fine clothes, who fought with gunsmoke and steel rather than jagged bone and rusted iron. Nimble and quick, across lines and gaps, like the mountain cliffs of his tribal homeland. Life was never so easy, that one could just become a merchant prince, a master of a household and company. So he took up adventuring of a sorts, plying the violence of barbaric past and the greed filled knowledge of an envious future. Traveling the world and building up his wealth and name. New names and contacts, networking, he would build the foundations of a new way with his travels and hardships...and not least of all his spite.
Far past Ketapesh he traveled, there lay a whole world to claim his future from. Absalom, the city in the center of the world, where gnolls were put to death as savages and unthinking beasts, but money would bend the law's knee. Andoran, a country of freedom, democracy, principles, and hidden vices and hypocritical crimes. Galt, where revolutions turned forever and the executioners' trade was the only respite to a people that tore themselves apart. Cheliax, an empire of deal makers and devil worshipers, feverish with dreams of conquest and beset by internal struggles. The frozen lands of the Baba Yaga and the Crown of the World. Into the East, to Tian, the empire under divine sky, the homeland of his first friend...and beyond, to the stars and spheres that span around a sun. Further still away, to other spheres and stars, suns that no other of his kind felt. Opportunity in crisis, to flee anywhere in the moment, he found himself venturing forth further than any Garundi Gnoll had any right to. Allowed to grasp the very stars in the sky, he has concentrated on growing is business...and found himself fighting harder than ever before to take what he can and to keep what he took. He would have his dreams, his desires, and live to see what few other peers could.
Of course, such upstart behavior would not go unpunished, spiteful tenacity and unfiltered risktaking could only take someone so far. Rivals and enemies, or perhaps just opportunists and bad luck. Now far from his homesphere, far from the network and business he had built, Arrnor Flamepaw, finds himself stranded in unfamiliar Flows amongst the wreckage of many ruined lives. Not the first time, and probably not the last time. If nothing else, stripping the meat off the bones of carrion was in his blood. With what he could gather he is left only able to steer towards a sphere not on any of his charts, in need of refreshed air and solid ground beneath his feet. Another chapter in his story, another obstacle in his journey, either he will drag himself back up towards the stars or he will drag down someone else to do it for him.
Culture: Hidden
Obviously nouveau-riche.
Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
The Gnolls of Glorian are tribal barbarians for the most part, they may interface with the civilizations of others, some even assimilate, but they live apart generally. They have written script, strict laws, religion, but they do not produce much. A slaving culture that appropriates the labor of others and eats all carrion at best, and at worst a blight upon the landscape. Arrnor in leaving his people has found himself enjoying the ability to be one with many different cultures. Enjoying histories, rituals, and societies that seem so much grander, greater, than what he had left. This does not lend himself to be liked, as, with his body, he finds changing culture to be as regular as changing clothes. Because he has the ability to do so, he does, and if he is not strong enough to do so...he will be corrected and a lesson will be learned for until he is strong enough to do as he wishes. Though in the way of Spelljammers, he has found great confort as there are far more things eccentric and weird. There is a closeness to some naval cultures among those that travel the stars. Some common things holding true surprisingly across what seem like infinite distances.
Sexual Orientation: Hedonistic Pansexual. Extremely kink and fetish minded.