Amaranth

Summary

• Species: Virginia Possum
• Gender: Male
• Eyes: Brown
• Height: 5'8"
• Build: Light
• Age: Unknown. Apparent: Late thirties
• Supernatural Status: Cursed Immortal
• Occupation: Bardic Warlock

Decline of Magic

Coming from a family line of bards is a difficult position to be in when the world itself is leaving behind magic for technology. Not only does this transition make magic less in demand, the sheer banality of it, and the growing belief that magic never really existed but was just trickery, fiction, and misplaced primitive beliefs poisoned the very sources of power on which magic relied.

Bards were affected as much as anyone else, but they had several advantages other practitioners of magic did not. First, they all have a skill that is enjoyed by the populace. Even if the song can no longer conjure magic, people like to hear stories sung and instruments played. The bards fell back onto roles and storytellers and performers both of music an theater,

Second, as storytellers, bards have been carrying around the history of the world for a very long time and with quite some accuracy. So the bards and their guilds were able to maintain their records of deeds,magic, and the evolution of the world.

Finally, by their nature, bards are skilled in many arts other than those that of performing and magic. It was on this last truth that Amaranth found himself learning to produce tiny machines that could perform simple jobs, but these little golems still has a spark of magic that made them special. What made them truly unique was that they were controlled by vocal or instrumental sounds. In a way, Amaranth found a way to bridge bardic tradition with evolving technology. Unfortunately, the world saw it as little more than a novelty, and like many inventors, he ended up nearly penniless for his efforts.

Artificers Training

Amaranth finally found a shop that would let him train as an apprentice. They acknowledged his skill with the sonic golems, but explained that such would only land him a place in the toy industry at best. For five years, Amaranth studied and worked hard on the design of what was considered more practical devices. Amaranth saw them more as soulless, mindless tools, but he needed the income, and he was learning more advanced designs.

Amaranth's skill in automatons earned him the rank of journeyman after four years. By that fifth year, he was handling custom work on his own, he was learning from master as he brought the possum into the finer details and secrets of the unliving machines, and he was finally starting to make some real income that he might even afford a reasonable place to live.

However, the more Amaranth learned, the less happy he was. Likes the machines he made, he was starting to feel empty. Faith in machines was greater than faith in magic now, and that was eating at his spirit as a bard. He knew he had to leave the city and seek a place where he might awaken his family practice again, but he was pinned down by work and debt. At twenty seven years old, quite mature for his world, he saw no way out, but he prayed for one none the less.

Induction into S.T.A.R.

One evening after work, Amaranth proceeded to a small pub where he often took dinner and drink, especially since they would let him pay for some of those with a song. Though it paid his tab, it always saddened him to feel how little magic was left for him to conjure with each chord invoked. After one such performance, Amaranth returned top his table to be joined by a wealthy looking fellow. He explained that he was a recruiter for a new university, and that he could see how desperate Amaranth had become just to get by. It was then that the conversation turned back to the now laughable topic of magic.

This man seemed to believe in it strongly, and he indicated that, with the right training, there were persistent forms of magic that could be summoned up even in an atmosphere so banal as this world. Before Amaranth could could make a case for being unable to affords a university, the fellow explained that Amaranth was already trained in mystic arts, and therefore could pay some of their way by teaching classes.

A place of magic and a chance to pass on his art was a temptation he could not resist. He took enough time to settle all his work and leave amicably with his mentor before packing his meager possessions and heading to the university.

Amaranth Dark Army

As a quick learner, and a bit older than most of the students, Amaranth picked up on ways to instill his creations with shadow magic like the demons often used. While he has set out to do so as only one mode of control, it turned out his only reliable means of controlling the small, but expanding, horde was to use his old bardic talents. With the right music, he could motivate his dark minions to move, attack, and even perform complex activities like driving a vehicle or manning a weapon.

While he wasn't really one of the most evil students, he was certainly disenchanted enough with the world he came from to be less restrained in his decisions to unleash his little monsters on the world. His best and strongest always had a mechanical underpinning, but some of the smaller, more numerous, entities were made from shadows alone.

Unfortunately, his luck was rather dismal, and while working on the largest minion he ever constructed, well over twice his size, mishaps occurred that led him to meet someone new, and for him to come to realize something terrible about his fate.

Death's intervention

There is a difference between a reaper and an angel of death. Both are generally neutral entities, but one of them is there to protect and transport the soul, and the other is there to make sure things die when they should when other means of securing death have not been present. Amaranth has the distinction of being one of the few souls that saw both at once. While working on his large minion, an angel of death found its mark and caused the main structure to collapse on the possum and kill him. It was then that there was a problem. The reaper, tasked with taking and safely transporting the soul of the deceased, was busily checking his notes time and again.

"He's not on the list. None of them." Said the reaper to the angel who then came to the reaper's side.

"That is indeed a problem." The angel sighed and drug Amaranth out from the wreckage. "Well, we have good news and bad news for you."

"I've been crushed and killed by my own machine! Tell what what could possible be the good news?!"

"Well, you don't seem to be part of the plan." The angel said.

"Not at all. There is just no place for you it seems. Oversight most likely, but until this is cleared up, you will have to stay here." The reaper added in a very matter of fact tone.

"Stay here as what? A ghost?" Amaranth looked rather worried.

"Oh! No, not at all. Death in full has no place for you, so you'll have to stay on the mortal plane. At least for now, try not to die. We won't be back for you until this is cleared up, so you'll just end up coming back again and again. Welcome to immortality, of a sort anyhow, so try to use it wisely!"

The two entities left Amaranth who did indeed seem to snap back to life after an hour or so. If it wasn't to become a regular thing, he might have thought it was all due to being exposed to solvent fumes for too long. He was, indeed, a cursed immortal destined to walk the planes of the living until the system figured out what went wrong.

Current place in life

Amaranth managed to leave the university on his own power after a few attempts to steal his soul were thwarted by his ability to re-manifest himself. It also helped that said giant minion that initially killed him turned out to be a great weapon and distraction as the STAR goons, demons, and staff all worked to stop it from smashing its way into the demon development core.

To this day, Amaranth wanders from place to place, world to world, and even from plane to plane trying to find his place and some fulfillment after he lost his life, his world, and even his college education. He still has his small army, still have his crafting skills, and his voice remains as clear and powerful as it has ever been. His luck, died to his immortality, is still terrible, but he hasn't let a death or a dozen get him down. Except once when they buried him before he could wake up. Singing minions into exhuming your own grave is a real pain.