A lycanthropic rogue seeking a new home in the multi-verse.
*Cordan was born on a prime world to a secretive tribe dedicated to assassinating the magic-wielding ruling classes. He was only a child when his “family” fell afoul of powerful political foes and was forced to flee to Sigil, where they sought to re-establish themselves.
*Cordan now splits his time performing specific missions for his “Mother”, the powerful matriarch of his clan, and exploring the planes on his own, seeking knowledge he can use to return his family to it’s previous strength.
*During the course of his adventures Cordan was attacked by a werewolf. After a torturous series of events Cordan became able to control his lycanthropy, often choosing to shift into a beast-like form during battle.
*What’s Cordan been up to lately? Typed, at the very latest, a few weeks ago
Cordan was waylaid by the psychic pull of his lycanthropic heritage while adventuring in the insanity-inducing caverns of Pandemonium. Though he valiantly fought the influence of the foreign entity (the psychic tendrils of the Wild Mother reminded him eerily of the psionic warriors he so often fought alongside in his home realm, the Mage-Killers that, were they not careful, could let their minds wander and infect the thoughts of others with day-dreams of battles not-fought), Cordan was quickly overcome; the howling winds and the encoraching wildmind were too much. He was overcome, and all went dark.
His memories of what happened next are scattered; flashes, glimpses, but no complete memories. There are scenes here and there – bloody fangs above a dessicated body – animal? too hard to tell – cave-walls moving quickly past, the brush of the cold, maddening winds on his face – jaws – skin.
And then – awake. Whether the presence retreated, or whether Cordan – the real Cordan, the Cordan he had been – had finally clawed his way to the surface of consciousness, he was awake now.
Awake, weaponless, and surrounded by sleeping dire wolves.
Cordan had been conscripted, while in his Wild form, into the brutal world of Dire Wolf fighting amongst the Ice Giants. Every night, he had been forced to enter a ring of bones and dirt and to fight for his life against first one, then two or three, dire wolves. The presence of a lycanthrope proved an exotic spectacle for the giants, and they cheered Cordan on as he mindlessly devoured his way to victory.
But now it was different. Conscious at last, Cordan began to plot his escape. At most, he only had a few hours to make his way out of the Ice Giant camp and to the World Tree.
Cordan knew there was only one way out, and that was to distract the Giants (now sleeping, but sure to awake if Cordan tried to leave directly or woke up the sleeping Wolves). Quietly, Cordan searched the ground, finally finding a shard of stone. He cut himself as deeply as possible, eventually bloodying himself and transforming into his WereShape. It was risky – what if the voices took control again? – but there was no other way.
Now in his wolf shape, Cordan approached one of the sleeping Dire Wolves. This one, One-Eye, was mean and vindicative, but he had been nearly killed by Cordan earlier. He could be intimidated. before his WildKnowledge faded, Cordan would need to use his ability to communicate with these wolves to effect his escape.
The wolves could be….persuaded, even if Cordan needed to threaten to take another eye to do so. In a few hectic minutes, Cordan was fleeing through the open doors of the Ice Giant’s Hall, as wolf after wolf rose in blind fury and bloodlust, attacking their Ice Giant masters.
Clambering up the World Tree went without incident; Cordan was easily able to hide and sneak past Ice Giant patrols and a large Treant guard. He emerged from Pandemonium, taking stock of his position: he was weaponless, lean, and scarred. But he had developed a new sense of battle, and his Lyncathropic blood surged through him stronger than ever.
He would seek his friends – the friends who had left him to die in the Giant’s camp. And when he found them, he would kill them.