Post by bernevermore on Sept 25, 2020 18:12:07 GMT -5
Basic Statistics
Name: Randy Cutter, aka “Cuts”
Age: 43
Class: Rogue
Occupation: Merchant
Race: Human
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Deity: Talos
Physical Statistics
Height: 6’ 2’’
Weight: 220 lbs
Skin Tone: Sun bronzed
Eye Color: Opaque
Hair: Brown
Unique features: Cuts has a livid and jagged scar that spans his throat from ear to ear and the related trauma has left permanent speech impediment.
Description Summary
Randy Cutter or “Cuts” as he is called by anyone alive today is a large dark man with a strong speech impediment resulting from his childhood. His chaotic but cunning mind is dominated by his need to hide his true personality, the pleasure he takes in inflicting pain and his thirst for blood fueled by a boiling rage over which he has achieved tenuous control. He survives by his wits and an affinity for slipping into shadows where he finds safety and solace. Kindness is sometimes rewarded with loyalty *though Cuts would not call it that* or perhaps merely the absence of a desire to harm. Perceived slights however result in a hatred rarely forgotten and that may be stirred to a never ending desire to kill in such a way that the person is bereft of all thought but the sounds of their own screams and the desire to embrace death itself.
Biographical Summary
“Randy Cutter”
Randy Cutter or “Cuts” as he is called by anyone alive today does not remember his real name – only the one he was given later in life.
His earliest and only memory before the age of 6 is of walking into his house to find a massive man standing over the prone body of his father holding a still dripping dagger leaving a beautiful crimson pattern across the body and the floor like little dark jewels as they caught the light from the doorway in mid-air.
The events that follow are blurry … he remembers ripping his small knife from the man’s kidneys over and over again from where he had slipped behind him as the man said something to his mother who stood shrieking across the small room …. He remembers the man crumbling ... sliding to the floor in an ever widening pool of scarlet ... the delicate ruby bubbles frothing at the man’s mouth … the feeling of power and triumph at the revenge he had taken for his father. …
Next, he remembers raising his eyes for his mother’s approval …. Only to see a cudgel swinging for his head and a look of utter hatred on his mother’s face as she wielded it … then nothing.
Cuts awoke to blinding pain. He was lying face down in the filth of the sewer, covered in blood, slime and rats as they gnawed at his throat. How he killed them he no longer remembers ... or how he reached the surface, or found the water trough … but the image of the gaping wound in his throat caused not by rats, but by what must have been a kitchen knife … He could see his life …. Blood pulsing quickly in the exposed vein … the shredded muscles and tendons, his vocal cords … that memory he will harbor like a cherished adder to his dying breath.
He passed out only to awaken in a lean-to behind the tinker’s house … he drank from a bowl of water and absent mindedly noticed that his throat felt tight and burned …. Remembering he felt where the tinker had sewed his throat shut with a strand of gut. The tinker saved his life … but the damage done by the rats, not the blade, left Cuts with a livid scar and permanent speech impediment for which he was mercilessly ridiculed.
Cuts disappeared into the sewers for years … emerging strong and nearly without emotion … what he did in those years no voice tells … but the sewers had acquired an unwholesome reputation that instilled terror into the minds of mothers and husbands alike.
Cuts emerged with an uncanny ability to slide into the shadows ... even in places where there might not appear to be any.
The woman was found that day hanging naked from the hooks in the shop of the rich butcher she had taken as her new husband. Her half-eaten heart sat smoldering on the hearth and every drop of blood had been carefully drained into bowls and goblets that sat about the room or had been hurled against the walls. A dead rat still hung from the hole it had eaten in her throat before it too was killed.
From the spray of blood around the body that left only the imprint of two large boots in its radius it was apparent that she had lived while the rat was attached to her hanging body and while the hundreds of delicate incisions were made … she died as the last drop of blood pumped from her heart as it was removed. It would have taken hours.
After that the city changed ... no longer could children play in the streets or windows be left open. Infants disappeared from their cradles to be found inside the stomach of a dog left hanging in a tree at the front gate … but most often it was young women that disappeared to be found later violated, drained of life and cut beyond recognition.
… and so the town gave the invisible assailant the name of Randy Cutter.
For Cuts shadows spell safety, concealing within them his malevolent deeds. His affinity for stealth and concealment have shifted from necessity and survival … to deadly game of hide-and-seek from which only a single life is permitted to emerge … to an adrenaline pumping addiction … an unconscious way of life, and now in his final rendering Cuts is himself becoming a shadow … sliding ever more easily into “the spaces between” … at first the dark alley off the beaten path ... then the spaces between streetlights … the shadow cast by the city gates or a passing caravan wagon … a tree or rock within the confines of the forest … the shaded side of a garden hedge .. the space between fence slats … the cool shadows between blades of grass tossed about by the wind on a rain swept mountain meadow … serving evermore as sanctuary and lair.
Having claimed the shadows as his domain Cuts seeks out their cold solace with increasing frequency, slipping in and out of the intricate weave of light and dark with scarcely a second thought … and as easily as a whisp of smoke is born upon the wind.
Cuts is freed from prying eyes and mocking laughter, from all moral compass, and the necessity to face what he has become …. His only thoughts the memory of the beautiful scarlet pool, the delicate bubbles on the man’s lips and the vision of his mother’s face as she swung the cudgel.
In time Cuts began to become bored … and when his last and final victim in that city told him that the city had enlisted a band of mercenaries to hunt him he decided to move on. First however he left the town a message ….
On the day the band of mercenaries was set to arrive, the town began to stir early in the spring sunlight. A festive air pervaded the town that morning until, as the city watch opened the gates; they found the bodies of the mercenaries hanging head down from the town oak. Each one had his throat slit and the gore had been collected in a bucket left standing nearby, now empty and encrusted with flies.
In the dust of the road words appeared to slither beneath the mass of insects that had gathered to feast on the spilled blood. They read only:
“REMEMBER CUTSSS”
....
No tale tells of Cuts journey from that place. Cuts has however emerged from the shadows and has begun to carve a place for himself in the minds of the people of Greatgaunt.
Cuts has gained a tenuous level of control over his public self, rarely displaying the deprived rage and bloodlust that boils within his soul … he has become more cunning and aware of himself … now he slakes his bloodlust in the pursuit of creatures not admitted to organized civilization, slaughtering them for his amusement … or pilfering their hoards for his own profit and the coin of his customers … and bides his time as a small merchant dealing in items ranging from junk to rare and collectible items of value or at times even information that comes to his attention. …
In this role his cunning mind is sharp and focused with longer term plans and the awareness that satisfied customers are his link to stature and trust within society … and that this trust must be preserved until …
… and yet his lust for blood and the screams of his victims must be slaked and the rage threatens to overtake the tenuous hold he has on his mind … Cuts remains oddly aware of people that show him kindness and do not ridicule him for his speech, even developing a strange affection for these individuals in his mind … however for those that slight him or ridicule him he perceives nothing but insane ravaging rage and a burning need to kill that at best is damped to a smoldering grudge and hatred that may eventually claim his soul or result in the tortuous death of such individuals ...
When rage threatens to overtake him Cuts withdraws into sewers and shadows whence he came, to slake his thirst for a time when he will not just hide within the shadows but will rule them … extending from them as an emissary of fear and death. No tales emerge save odd rumors that some small animals seem to disappear and that the rat population of the sewers seems oddly diminished. …
… A shadow detaches itself from the sewer grate and seems to trickle between the cobblestones and pool in dark corners furthest from the streetlamps. Only an occasional breath of the still night air might allow the sharpest eyes to detect the ruffle of a cloak as the shadow creeps around the edges of the courtyard and departs through the gates. ….
… Soon after such unremarked events Cuts may once again be found to be plying his trade from the streets ... It is here that his talents slowly emerge as he bends every ounce of his malevolent wit to the task of slaking his lust and nourishing long held grudges until the days of reckoning shall overtake him …
… For never does a night pass that his dreams do not bring him the ecstasy that only comes from the throb that sundered hearts send along his long thin blades, the soft squelch of entrails sliding from their containment, the delicious fragrance of fresh gore spilling across his lips, and the intoxicating gift of each victim’s silent, breathless screams for mercy as they see their final moments reflected within the depths of his pitiless opaque eyes … for this is his final gift … that, as memory ceases and comprehension still lingers, the horror of what is .. and is still to come ... is shared.
Build & Personality
Strength: 14
Dexterity: 18
Constitution: 10
Wisdom: 8
Intelligence: 14
Charisma: 8
Personality:
Cuts is cunning yet driven by raw chaotic emotion with no moral compass but his own haphazard whims and the desire to survive. He takes great pleasure in inflicting pain and suffering and is fascinated with the sight, smell, and taste of blood. His hatred is enduring and is rarely cured by anything but death. His cunning mind enables him to gain some control over his natural inclinations though they threaten to surface at any moment to overtake the tenuous hold he has on his mind … Cuts remains oddly aware of people that show him kindness and harbors an odd consideration for those individuals, though the duration of such consideration may vary or be countered by a perceived slight.
Name: Randy Cutter, aka “Cuts”
Age: 43
Class: Rogue
Occupation: Merchant
Race: Human
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Deity: Talos
Physical Statistics
Height: 6’ 2’’
Weight: 220 lbs
Skin Tone: Sun bronzed
Eye Color: Opaque
Hair: Brown
Unique features: Cuts has a livid and jagged scar that spans his throat from ear to ear and the related trauma has left permanent speech impediment.
Description Summary
Randy Cutter or “Cuts” as he is called by anyone alive today is a large dark man with a strong speech impediment resulting from his childhood. His chaotic but cunning mind is dominated by his need to hide his true personality, the pleasure he takes in inflicting pain and his thirst for blood fueled by a boiling rage over which he has achieved tenuous control. He survives by his wits and an affinity for slipping into shadows where he finds safety and solace. Kindness is sometimes rewarded with loyalty *though Cuts would not call it that* or perhaps merely the absence of a desire to harm. Perceived slights however result in a hatred rarely forgotten and that may be stirred to a never ending desire to kill in such a way that the person is bereft of all thought but the sounds of their own screams and the desire to embrace death itself.
Biographical Summary
“Randy Cutter”
Randy Cutter or “Cuts” as he is called by anyone alive today does not remember his real name – only the one he was given later in life.
His earliest and only memory before the age of 6 is of walking into his house to find a massive man standing over the prone body of his father holding a still dripping dagger leaving a beautiful crimson pattern across the body and the floor like little dark jewels as they caught the light from the doorway in mid-air.
The events that follow are blurry … he remembers ripping his small knife from the man’s kidneys over and over again from where he had slipped behind him as the man said something to his mother who stood shrieking across the small room …. He remembers the man crumbling ... sliding to the floor in an ever widening pool of scarlet ... the delicate ruby bubbles frothing at the man’s mouth … the feeling of power and triumph at the revenge he had taken for his father. …
Next, he remembers raising his eyes for his mother’s approval …. Only to see a cudgel swinging for his head and a look of utter hatred on his mother’s face as she wielded it … then nothing.
Cuts awoke to blinding pain. He was lying face down in the filth of the sewer, covered in blood, slime and rats as they gnawed at his throat. How he killed them he no longer remembers ... or how he reached the surface, or found the water trough … but the image of the gaping wound in his throat caused not by rats, but by what must have been a kitchen knife … He could see his life …. Blood pulsing quickly in the exposed vein … the shredded muscles and tendons, his vocal cords … that memory he will harbor like a cherished adder to his dying breath.
He passed out only to awaken in a lean-to behind the tinker’s house … he drank from a bowl of water and absent mindedly noticed that his throat felt tight and burned …. Remembering he felt where the tinker had sewed his throat shut with a strand of gut. The tinker saved his life … but the damage done by the rats, not the blade, left Cuts with a livid scar and permanent speech impediment for which he was mercilessly ridiculed.
Cuts disappeared into the sewers for years … emerging strong and nearly without emotion … what he did in those years no voice tells … but the sewers had acquired an unwholesome reputation that instilled terror into the minds of mothers and husbands alike.
Cuts emerged with an uncanny ability to slide into the shadows ... even in places where there might not appear to be any.
The woman was found that day hanging naked from the hooks in the shop of the rich butcher she had taken as her new husband. Her half-eaten heart sat smoldering on the hearth and every drop of blood had been carefully drained into bowls and goblets that sat about the room or had been hurled against the walls. A dead rat still hung from the hole it had eaten in her throat before it too was killed.
From the spray of blood around the body that left only the imprint of two large boots in its radius it was apparent that she had lived while the rat was attached to her hanging body and while the hundreds of delicate incisions were made … she died as the last drop of blood pumped from her heart as it was removed. It would have taken hours.
After that the city changed ... no longer could children play in the streets or windows be left open. Infants disappeared from their cradles to be found inside the stomach of a dog left hanging in a tree at the front gate … but most often it was young women that disappeared to be found later violated, drained of life and cut beyond recognition.
… and so the town gave the invisible assailant the name of Randy Cutter.
For Cuts shadows spell safety, concealing within them his malevolent deeds. His affinity for stealth and concealment have shifted from necessity and survival … to deadly game of hide-and-seek from which only a single life is permitted to emerge … to an adrenaline pumping addiction … an unconscious way of life, and now in his final rendering Cuts is himself becoming a shadow … sliding ever more easily into “the spaces between” … at first the dark alley off the beaten path ... then the spaces between streetlights … the shadow cast by the city gates or a passing caravan wagon … a tree or rock within the confines of the forest … the shaded side of a garden hedge .. the space between fence slats … the cool shadows between blades of grass tossed about by the wind on a rain swept mountain meadow … serving evermore as sanctuary and lair.
Having claimed the shadows as his domain Cuts seeks out their cold solace with increasing frequency, slipping in and out of the intricate weave of light and dark with scarcely a second thought … and as easily as a whisp of smoke is born upon the wind.
Cuts is freed from prying eyes and mocking laughter, from all moral compass, and the necessity to face what he has become …. His only thoughts the memory of the beautiful scarlet pool, the delicate bubbles on the man’s lips and the vision of his mother’s face as she swung the cudgel.
In time Cuts began to become bored … and when his last and final victim in that city told him that the city had enlisted a band of mercenaries to hunt him he decided to move on. First however he left the town a message ….
On the day the band of mercenaries was set to arrive, the town began to stir early in the spring sunlight. A festive air pervaded the town that morning until, as the city watch opened the gates; they found the bodies of the mercenaries hanging head down from the town oak. Each one had his throat slit and the gore had been collected in a bucket left standing nearby, now empty and encrusted with flies.
In the dust of the road words appeared to slither beneath the mass of insects that had gathered to feast on the spilled blood. They read only:
“REMEMBER CUTSSS”
....
No tale tells of Cuts journey from that place. Cuts has however emerged from the shadows and has begun to carve a place for himself in the minds of the people of Greatgaunt.
Cuts has gained a tenuous level of control over his public self, rarely displaying the deprived rage and bloodlust that boils within his soul … he has become more cunning and aware of himself … now he slakes his bloodlust in the pursuit of creatures not admitted to organized civilization, slaughtering them for his amusement … or pilfering their hoards for his own profit and the coin of his customers … and bides his time as a small merchant dealing in items ranging from junk to rare and collectible items of value or at times even information that comes to his attention. …
In this role his cunning mind is sharp and focused with longer term plans and the awareness that satisfied customers are his link to stature and trust within society … and that this trust must be preserved until …
… and yet his lust for blood and the screams of his victims must be slaked and the rage threatens to overtake the tenuous hold he has on his mind … Cuts remains oddly aware of people that show him kindness and do not ridicule him for his speech, even developing a strange affection for these individuals in his mind … however for those that slight him or ridicule him he perceives nothing but insane ravaging rage and a burning need to kill that at best is damped to a smoldering grudge and hatred that may eventually claim his soul or result in the tortuous death of such individuals ...
When rage threatens to overtake him Cuts withdraws into sewers and shadows whence he came, to slake his thirst for a time when he will not just hide within the shadows but will rule them … extending from them as an emissary of fear and death. No tales emerge save odd rumors that some small animals seem to disappear and that the rat population of the sewers seems oddly diminished. …
… A shadow detaches itself from the sewer grate and seems to trickle between the cobblestones and pool in dark corners furthest from the streetlamps. Only an occasional breath of the still night air might allow the sharpest eyes to detect the ruffle of a cloak as the shadow creeps around the edges of the courtyard and departs through the gates. ….
… Soon after such unremarked events Cuts may once again be found to be plying his trade from the streets ... It is here that his talents slowly emerge as he bends every ounce of his malevolent wit to the task of slaking his lust and nourishing long held grudges until the days of reckoning shall overtake him …
… For never does a night pass that his dreams do not bring him the ecstasy that only comes from the throb that sundered hearts send along his long thin blades, the soft squelch of entrails sliding from their containment, the delicious fragrance of fresh gore spilling across his lips, and the intoxicating gift of each victim’s silent, breathless screams for mercy as they see their final moments reflected within the depths of his pitiless opaque eyes … for this is his final gift … that, as memory ceases and comprehension still lingers, the horror of what is .. and is still to come ... is shared.
Build & Personality
Strength: 14
Dexterity: 18
Constitution: 10
Wisdom: 8
Intelligence: 14
Charisma: 8
Personality:
Cuts is cunning yet driven by raw chaotic emotion with no moral compass but his own haphazard whims and the desire to survive. He takes great pleasure in inflicting pain and suffering and is fascinated with the sight, smell, and taste of blood. His hatred is enduring and is rarely cured by anything but death. His cunning mind enables him to gain some control over his natural inclinations though they threaten to surface at any moment to overtake the tenuous hold he has on his mind … Cuts remains oddly aware of people that show him kindness and harbors an odd consideration for those individuals, though the duration of such consideration may vary or be countered by a perceived slight.