Kathor



Backstory
My hometown was Winterhaven I was adopted by two human parents. For adopting a Tiefling, they were shunned by the town along with me. After awhile at the age of 10 I ran away. About 2 months later while passing by another town, a cult attacked, burning down the village and taking me with them. I woke up chained to a magic circle surrounded by the cult with the purple man at a podium. They raised their hands and performed a summoning ritual, with me as the sacrifice. I heard a deep slow voice. "Boy, is this it for you." I frantically looked around but saw nothing. "You can't see me, it's all in your head. Now tell me are you willing to die here or do you want revenge." I was screaming in agony and wanted nothing more than to than that power. Power to make me strong. "Yes I feel it, your anger, your hatred. Do you want power to make your enemies cower in fear." "YES." I finally manage to tell out. Portals began to open, with long, slender tendrils grabbing cultists and dragging them through to the other side. In the middle of all the chaos, one larger tentacle extended out towards me, impaling me through my chest and ripping out my soul. "Now go, I gift you the name Kathor, go and spread chaos throughout the realm in the name of The Great Old Ones, make us feared once again."

At the age of 16, while I was traveling the lands, I met an elvish fighter named Rolen, who was severely injured. Although my instinctive reaction was to let him die, I begrudgingly healed him which seemed to shock the elf. His entire life he had been separated from magic, so he had never seen anything like it before. He asked some questions about magic and sent him on the way. I later met him again and he looked distraught. He asked if we could join me and, although I hated the thought of it, his non-stop begging finally caused me to let him follow, as long as he would quit whining. Though it was a rough start, Rolen began slowly earning my trust and friendship throughout our journey.

Abilities




