Alberich
STR:9 DEX:16 CON:15 INT:15 WIS:12 CHA:8
HP: 27
Languages: German, Latin, Greek
PP:20% O/L:65% F/RT:45% MS:25%
HiS:25% DN:25% CW:60% RL:0%
Growing up in Suevia near Wurtemburg as an ugly elf meant only one thing: constantly being compared to that homely black sheep Eorl. He did everything he could to differentiate himself; Eorl was a tailor, he became a tinker. Eorl was illiterate, he taught himself both Latin and Greek. Nothing he did made any difference. When Eorl was finally exiled, Alberich hoped that he could at last escape the association and move on with his life, but instead, with Eorl gone, he became the next target of widespread derision. Eventually he decided he’d had enough, and left the Black Forest, the laughter and catcalls of his brethren at his back as he went.
He became a wandering peddler, selling trinkets and repairing locks and cookware. He found that he preferred humans to elves anyway, except for the tendency for humans to periodically rob him blind. So Alberich got tough, and he got mean. He took no guff and when he got robbed by some young punk, he’d wait for an opportunity and then rob him back. The downside to this was that encounters frequently escalated and once he had picked a fight with a thief with enough friends it was time for him to move on. He traveled through Germany this way, and used his Latin to move into Italy. Once there, however, he found far greater solidarity among thieves and quickly continued on to the Greek territories.
Byzantium was always on edge because incursions from all sides, but he found the middle peaceful enough and wound up as a shopkeeper in Magnesia and settled into a nice life. Or it was nice, until the city was suddenly beset by a plague of gibbering people-consuming horrors. Unwilling to abandon the only place that he ever felt at home in, he decided to stay and sneak food to other holdouts. The mayor had sent for help, and if they could only survive a week or two, they were sure to be saved.
When salvation finally arrived, Alberich nearly burst a blood vessel. That familiar but long forgotten nasal voice, stumbling through rudimentary Greek phrases in heavily accented German, Eorl fought the monstrosities on the street with the aid of a burly man wielding a sword and a paring knife. The two of them nearly died, but did not, and in the space of a week he watched them, along with a cast of unlikely companions, chop up a half-dozen of the beasts. Then they abruptly declared victory and left. Alberich would have followed him right then, but the effort, while heroic, was insufficient, and he would later help another band of adventurers mop up the rest of the creatures.
After this he returned to tinkering, but his mind whirled as he tried to make sense of what he had seen. What could possibly have happened to Eorl during the intervening years? He wanted to know, but was reluctant to be reintroduced to the elf who, although perhaps indirectly, made his life miserable for so long. Months later, Bogatyrs campaigning with Basil II stopped over briefly in town... and carried with them news of Eorl’s hospitality. When rumors circulated that a party of adventurers based out of Chrysopolis and led by Eorl had managed to defeat Barnacle Bashim, Alberich packed in his tools and went north, not knowing what to expect.
He found the burgeoning guild of Thief Takers, and could not help but think that perhaps signing on was some kind of strange destiny. Eorl was overjoyed to see another Black Forest elf, and begged him to stay. Thus did Alberich come to Chrysopolis and become the first elf to join the guild.
