#rachart

He grew up in a comfortable, if constantly roving, family. Never one to care about what others thought, he made his own path through life, gathering gold and knowledge. A sorcerer, he felt the thrum of magic over his skin like others feel air, able to manipulate time and feel the ticking of the clock in every heartbeat. Intelligent, but foolish, he decided to do something nobody else had done before; make a multilayered spell scroll.

He took his time, gathering spells that created fire and explosions and destruction from every corner of the plane possible, venturing to other planes to gather even more. He began his work, taking time to weave each spell into the scroll bit by bit. Arrogance was his downfall however, as the scroll worked. In fact, it worked so well that he was on his back with no recollection as to how, blood pooling out his body, seeing a leg much, much too far away, arms even further. It was due only to how much gold he spent on a daily basis that he was found. With every coin emptied from his pockets, he was healed, though had major trauma to his body.

As long as he was alive, it was enough. He would get back to how he was before, better even. New magical prosthetics replaced his arms and leg, runes crossing his body in every direction to keep his body functional. At least it meant he didn’t need to eat nearly as much, something he had never found pleasant, and could replace it with magi-packs, magical sources of energy. Expensive, but worth it.

He saved acquired 3 baby mimics to use as emotional support animals tools. One is a vest over his chest, one a band over his arm, and another acting as a bag. His hubris, but not his arrogance, tempered, he makes his way much more carefully. Ourbill likes what he cannot break, finding that few can stand up to his standards of relationships. He is unyielding, but fair. If he says he is going to do something, he will, be that punishment or reward, no matter how ridiculous the reward might be. The only creature who has yet managed to keep his interest, the only one to actually enjoy the yoke of his control, is Tillie. Pun’s eldest brother and a creature more mimic than man with a feral attitude, Tillie finds the rigid, unchanging rules comforting. He can break the rules, but he knows precisely what will happen and why, and the consistency is soothing.

He gathers gold lawfully, down to the very last bylaw and city code, manipulating the meaning however it best serves him. The memory of the explosion that nearly killed him is always in the back of his mind, and a noise too loud can cause him to immediately overthink, forcibly turning his mind to whatever it is he’s focusing on to avoid actually processing his emotions. He even turns it into a test of his own will. He uses magic that explicitly creates thunderous rumbles and explosive bursts, forcing himself through it as a means of proving to himself that he is in control. He plans now to gather gold and power, to become a mogul of merchantry and run a massive, plane spanning company that contains anything and everything a customer could wish to purchase.

He knows that not all people find Planewalkers comfortable to look at. The single large eye can be piercing, following every action keenly and obviously, especially when the owner of the eye is shrewd and looking for weakness to exploit. And so, for those weaker folk, he adopts a human form.