Tensoran Corinth, Firstborn

[TormakSaber]

Once upon a time, in Cormyr, there was a man. His name is unimportant, for he is dead now. What is important is his ties to his family, the Corinth family. You see, this man was a good man, and simply wanted the best for his family. But he had... judgement issues. There came a time when having the best for his family meant making... sacrifices. Perhaps not the literal or the metaphorical kind, but there were clear consequences for his actions. The situation is lost to the sands of time for the most part, but what remains is a scar, a blight, and yet a gift to the Corinth family. In a time of dire need, this man begged for aid from anyone, anywhere, and his call was answered.

The uninvited guest was stately looking enough, and showed up at his door out of the blue. There was a paper to sign, and a promise to keep. The first born of every generation would be marked. Not taken, not killed, not stolen, but different. Tools if needed, markedly different at best, engines of destruction in the politest terms possible.

The old man Corinth cared little, because it was a choice between firstborns and the end of the family line as they knew it. Financial times were hard. There were mysterious... murders, occurring.

But as was asked, a miracle happened. The papers were signed, and the next tenday, business propositions rolled in. Their monetary problems were solved. The thugs and murderers were caught by the city watch. The family flourished, and for a time, all was well.

One day, many years after the original deal, a daughter in the Corinth family would give birth to her first child. He was born and raised normally enough. At the age of 13, he began to manifest... oddities. His fingernails elongated into claws that could not be filed off. A pair of horns grew. He became different. He could not be hidden from view for long, either, as the neighborhood around the family quickly became aware of the freak, for lack of a better word. Word spread. The family became disparaged. It wasn't until the child lashed out at his oppressors at age 19, and was slain by the city watch as a dangerous beast that the vocalized jeers came to an end. But they continued to whisper.

Generations down the line, and the same thing occurred. The firstborn of every generation of the Corinth family, of every son and daughter, was different. It became a rumor mill that was also passed down for generations. Everyone knew that Old Man Corinth had done something, but no one knew what, though everyone had their own opinions. Most of the firstborn children were wildhearted. Some were murdered. Some murdered others. One took his own life. Not all were as grotesque as the original firstborn, but all were different.

Tensoran was born to a female Corinth, her firstborn. She, like all men and women of the Corinth family by now, and, well, most of the nearby Cormyrans as well, knew what would happen. Nevertheless, she insisted on raising the child until he was old enough to care for himself. He turned out normal enough, except for the tattoos on his body. He was born with some small markings, which only grew in complexity and size as Tensoran aged. Like others in the Firstborn Line, he was gifted with strange magicks, a dark violet energy that occasionally coursed through him. He was schooled privately and treated well, and lived, for the most part, a normal life, outside of the harassment from the social circles who considered the Corinth family a blight on Cormyr, people better removed, or,at the very least, ostracized from the rest of the "normal" population.

Finally, at age 18, his parents could bear it no longer. He was given his family inheritance early, given a utility knife, a week's worth of food, and a backpack, and told to get out, and never come back. Tensoran took it as well as one could, after all, he had figured out his fate years in advance. He had heard the stories, and he knew what would likely happen to him if he stayed in Cormyr. He left, and did not return. For five years, he wandered the roads. He would manage to settle down for months at a time in a small village, before being driven out by someone who had caught a glimpse of Eldritch Power. Small settlements were often the most vicious in their feelings towards him.

His life was, for the most part, uneventful. Strange looks became a part of his daily routine. He became used to it, tuning it out.

Eventually, at the age of twenty three, Tensoran Corinth, Firstborn of Cornith and Gifted and Cursed, would arrive in Baldur's Gate.

[TormakSaber]

Viciousness he could stomach.

Hate was easily shrugged off.

Pity, sympathy, these were things he didn't want.

He didn't really begrudge Isabella for her prodding and poking. He begrudged her because of the looks she gave him towards the end. That sickly look of pity and almost disgust that are reserved for the broken and battered on city streets, for peasants without food and shelter.

He didn't ask for sympathy and rarely gave it. He'd only bothered to explain himself to her so that she might understand, but she didn't. Then he'd gotten annoyed and let out some things he shouldn't have.

Probably wouldn't change much, in any case. The Paladin wouldn't look at him the same way, though. Couldn't blame her for that. He knew as well as she did what sort of magick flowed through his veins.

Tensoran sighed and laid down to sleep.