Post by Mortimer A. Locard on Apr 7, 2013 22:08:52 GMT -5
Name: Mortimer Abraham Locard
Alias: None
Class: Wizard
Race: Human
Age: 31
Occupation: Scribe, Bookmaker
Residence: Apartment B71 in Zaun (Now abandoned, currently resides in a safehouse within Demacia due to various circumstances)
Alignment: Neutral Good
Abilities:
Mortimer has the ability to cast up to Fifth Circle (Intermediate power) spells. Generally speaking, he is a talented mage, but he is nowhere close to being one of the best. Mortimer must study his spellbook each day to prepare his spells. He cannot prepare any spell not recorded in his spellbook.
Specialized School of Magic: Conjuration
Prohibited School of Magic: Necromancy
Weapon Proficiencies: Basic weapons such as a quarterstaff, dagger, and crossbow. Mortimer can dish out lots of damage with his spells, but he doesn't do well with weapons.
Armor Proficiencies: None. Armor of any type interferes with a wizard’s movements, which can cause his spells with somatic components (ex. hand gestures) to fail. Because Mortimer has no proficiency with any kind of armor or shield, he generally has low defense. This can make him extremely vulnerable in physical combat, especially melee. He can use spells and magic items to improve his defense, but doing so makes them less available for other purposes.
Wizards are arcane spellcasters who depend on intensive study to create their magic. To wizards, magic is not a talent but a difficult, rewarding art.
When they are prepared for battle, wizards can use their spells to devastating effect. When caught by surprise, they are vulnerable. The wizard's strength is his spells; everything else is secondary. He learns new spells as he experiments and grows in experience, and he can also learn them from other wizards. In addition, over time a wizard learns to manipulate his spells so they go farther, work better, or are improved in some other way.
Relationships:
The League of Legends: Powerful organization created to mediate the political conflicts in Valoran. He is striving to become a full-fledged Summoner, but he currently performs errands for them in an attempt to prove himself worthwhile.
The Iron Snakes: Mercenary organization that makes use of ruthless tactics to complete their contracts. Many of their members are composed of warriors and rogues, while also having a few mages and warlocks to fill their ranks. The Snakes are currently at war with the Angels of Vengeance, as each gang began with a bloody history of violence against each other.
Recently, the Snakes have turned their hatred towards Mortimer as he attempts to escape their wrath after causing a disruption in their Shimmer operations in Zaun.
The Angels of Vengeance: Vigilante activist group currently combating the crime in Zaun and have taken to helping the poor and less fortunate. They also protect them by engaging in turf wars and making every attempt at stopping criminals from preying on innocents. They can work with guards from time to time, but they prefer to work independent. Their sworn enemies are the Iron Snakes, as they are the reason the Angels came into existence.
By providing valuable knowledge to the Angels, Mortimer was given favors in return for his service, along with passage away from his own city-state through secret smuggling techniques used by local thieves.
Description: As shown in the picture. Variations in clothing and color may occur. His equipment consists of a staff, a dagger, a wizard's spellbook, material component (reagent) pouch, and a leather bag filled with scrolls and potions.
Biography:
"I live in a dream I never wake from, wondering if I was ever truly alive." -Mortimer Locard
As much as he tries to twist his personal history, Mortimer wasn't a native of the world of Runeterra. He is a mortal of another world known as Terral. He was born in a small house in the Commons district of a naval city known as Port Revarine. His parents were powerful magi, and hoped to one day raise their son to become healthy and intelligent so that he may live a life away from the bustling chaos that is city-life. When he was young, citizens and guards weren't too fond of magic in the country. The Erodemian Empire had a strict regime against non-sanctioned magic, and the Locard family weren't exempt from this prosecution. His father was often borrowing money from other people to pay off bribes so the imperial soldiers would leave their household alone. Despite their attempts to keep things under wraps and the debt hidden from his father's partners, the local population eventually discovered their illegal practices. Mortimer was chased out of city, living in the outlying forests with his now aging parents. Soon he grew to a fairly healthy young man, and left his rural homestead in Tetragrad to explore the outlying lands. The aspiring adventurer found himself in various major cities, eventually settling in the neighboring country of Ganderkan. Mortimer aged, working as a shoemaker, scribe, and stablehand for part of his young life.
However, it wasn't enough for him. He sought to delve into the legacy of his parents and their arcane history. Ganderkan was very different from Revarine, it's views on magic more lenient as guilds and colleges have been built to introduce and educate people into the workings of the Art. Mortimer's time of birth placed him at the beginning of the flourishing times of the empire not long after the invention of blackpowder weapons. Due to this, he was inevitably educated by some of the greatest arcanists and inventors that ever walked the face of his world, his natural affinity rapidly advancing him in the ranks until he became a high-ranking wizard with promising power. That is, of course, until his untimely encounter with the aberrant known as the Faceless One.
Throughout his entire career, he wished to summon creatures. Creatures from another world, or another dimension. He wanted to delve into the inner workings of how divine beings were able to contact Terral by performing extensive rituals. He wanted to summon supernatural beasts and bind them to his will with a simple command. His fascination for conjuration led him to endless research for weeks unending until he finally caught wind of an opportunity. There were rumors that an ancient trio of archmagi were attempting to summon the celestial beings of the heavens. It was a forbidden practice to break the interplanar barrier that kept worlds separated, but they continued to research a way despite the consequences. Priests and clerics warned them of the monsters scratching on the surface that separates our world from another, but they failed to heed their words. Scholars only speak of an abhorrent creature being locked away at the site of their final ritual. The Tower of Ulahal. Mortimer was determined to uncover the secrets of the archmagi, despite the risk of being branded as a rogue wizard. He stumbled upon an ancient seal within the ruins of the tower, careless enough to not read the careful warning:
"Step not a step within, lest your fate be sealed. Beyond lays me, forever dormant, lest you wish to awaken the Faceless. Proceed, and shed thyself, mind and body to me."
Sealing his fate, he found himself face to face with a statue and was compelled to touched the stone foundation. His mind began to blank; evil, chaotic visions of killing, frenzy taking hold of him. In his visions, a cascade of opening doors reveals land to him. Before him lies a wasteland of brown and bone, a battlefield with streams of blood, and screams of men. A warrior waltzes forward bringing a large axe to bear, slowly turning it as he approaches an enemy soldier. In this battle there are no allies, a slaughter is to happen. There they are, fighting desperately. Clashing, dying, pathetic. The man cleaves one in half with a quick horizontal swipe. Rats swarm the newly dead to feast upon their next meal. A dying soldier. Peasant. Fear. Sweat. Blood. Mud. He holds his feeble cracked club. Foot to the head, push. Push. Crack. The man tosses his axe to the side instead choosing to solve his problems from a distance. Spraying bolts into the backs of fleeing foes. Explosions rip apart those who were not fast enough. Not lucky enough. Time for more rapid movements, more swift acts of murder.
A banner was being raised. Movement towards the center. To the church. Rain, mud, grime, corpses. The battle breaks up as men flee the new threat. A warrior stands his ground. Fool? Or hero? The monster lifts him. The torso is thrown one way, the legs another. Intestines and dinner fall into the middle. None challenge the monster to reaching the church. The goal. The city of Revarine burning on the horizon. Whispering. Constant whispering. Dark promises, bargaining. Secrets. The ruinous powers to be promised. Instructions, eager instructions. Long nights under a blood red sky between sleep and dreams. Instructions on incantations. Means. Magics. Sacrifices. Material components. Murmuring, constant murmuring. Shouting.
The tower itself began to crack from the outside as it ripped part from its previous existance and became itself a dimension of madness. A world that has the mark of the newly awoken Faceless. It grew past ten, sixty, ninty floors. It mutated into a chaotic unstable anomaly, with a hundred levels spread out all over, all sprung out in mid-air, a broken fractured thing, a monstrosity of a floating citadel.
Mortimer's mental will was beginning to shatter like glass under the sheer corruption that was leaking forth from the statue. He realized what he had done. He repeated the same folly the three archmagi failed to contain. He fled the tower as it was beginning to warp reality, only barely escaping with his life. Even if his body was left undamaged, the barriers of his mind were broken. He involuntarily threw himself at the will of his invader. It was a memory he could never erase, no matter how many times he tries to forget it.
The empire was the first to encounter him. Imperial seers reported disturbances in the neighboring countries and sent patrols to investigate. They eventually discovered Mortimer as he tried to recover from what little he could salvage after such an experience. Weeks later, after being thrown before the mercy of the court, he was interrogated and investigated for involvement in this crisis. Mortimer was shown the consequences of his actions: Villages, towns, and cities were under attack by an unknown horde. Thousands dead, hundreds of thousands more threatened. This was something he set in motion, something that was irreversible.
The Inquisition called for guidance from their gods. They could only respond with vague answers, as the astral veil prevents divine intervention. However, there was one word that was common amongst their answers: "Guilty." A sin so great that both mortal and divine beings acknowledged his crime. Condemned by the inquisition and his former peers, a ritual was prepared to cast him out into the astral dimension as punishment. An exile of the highest degree. What felt like seconds became months as time is convoluted in the astral clouds. It was only by fate that the magicks of another world would drag him into its existance. A world known as Runeterra. He was still human, but he could not call upon the same magic that he previously had. He was an anomaly, a thing that shouldn't exist in this vibrant, new world.
Mortimer rarely mentions his background, due to the nature of the terrible crime he has committed in his past. He seeks complete and utter reconciliation from the divine beings that punished him for his transgressions and failures. Thus, he tries not to dwell on the past; what has happened, already happened. All that's left for him to do is to decide on a choice: Will he seek to return to his old world and find redemption, or will he start anew in a world full of fresh opportunities?
