Pathfinder - Don't do what Dennis does.
A tiefling that sports some extremely devilish heritage, Samael has dedicated veritably all his sixty-seven years to the art of magic.
Sam thinks of himself as highly intelligent, with a fine eye for detail and a taste for decadence. His passion for the arcane arts burns hot, and he prides himself on keeping abreast of the latest in published magical experimentation in Golarion. He prides himself in quite a few things, actually. His cleanliness, organization, style, sharp wit and efficient manner not the least of which.
Samael can come across as arrogant, scatter-brained, and even a little delicate, with little patience for things and people he considers beneath him.
Sam was raised as an orphan, having been left on a doorstep as a wailing infant.
It was by pure luck, perhaps even fate, that the doorstep he ended up on belonged to the head librarian of the Pathfinder college in Absalom.
The librarian took Samael in as his own, and the boy was brought up on the musty, story-filled pages of the endless rows upon rows of old and forgotten Pathfinder journals in the school’s massive library.
As he got older, his hunger for knowledge grew exponentially. Samael lived, breathed, and dreamed books. Tomes on history, biology, chemistry, religion, geography—anything and everything the library could offer him. But there was one section he was not allowed access to, and the curiosity for what laid beyond burned within him.
Samael loved and respected his adoptive father, and dared not venture into the restricted magical section, but the thought of sneaking in tantalized him. He knew of the odd noises, the strange lights and lights that sometimes flashed only briefly within those stacks, but he thought himself a smart boy, and was prepared for anything.
The curiosity became too much, and one day he snuck in.
Soon, Sam began to feel as if he were being followed. That something was watching him. Pages fluttered just out of sight, and he caught flashes of movement out of his periphery. Fear began to grip him, and just when he thought to run, something called his name.
A book thumped to the ground in front of him. On it’s cover blinked a large yellow eye, reptillian with a narrow black slit of a pupil. Of it’s own accord, the book flipped open, pages turning, all of them blank. An unseen hand began to write in red ink across a bared page.
Samael. Don’t be afraid. I’ve been waiting for you!
You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The burn of magic in your belly. You have the gift.
You must learn to control it.
I will help you.
The book flipped shut, and the eye blinked shut.
The stacks were pin-drop silent as Samael stared at it’s dark scaly cover. Could the book be right? It didn’t look altogether trustworthy, and he certainly didn’t feel magic.
Suddenly he heard footsteps, and panicked. The boy snatched up the book and ran.
TO BE CONTINUED~