Into the Wild West
Right from birth, Stephon Marbury never had to do anything for himself, it was always done for him. As a result, when this 3rd son of a minor noble arrived, aged 12, in the Monastery of The Order of the Platinum Claw, he was in for a shock. He spent the next 8 years working hard, training in martial combat and having his personal beliefs overwritten by those of the monastery. Stephon’s father, Lord Johann Marbury, had hoped, in sending his son to a monastery dedicated to Bahamut, to turn him into something useful. Lord Marbury was not the most thorough of people, though, and this showed in his choice of institution. He checked that they worshipped Bahamut, but not much else. As a result, Stephon spent the next 8 years being trained to be an Avenger for Bahamut, a cold, emotionless assassin, executing enemies as easily as he executes Bahamut’s will, and with as much guilt. When he came out of the monastery, Stephon didn’t look back, didn’t return home, certainly didn’t become the family pastor as Lord Marbury had hoped he would. However, the elders at the monastery hadn’t banked on the stubbornness of the upper class fop. Within 6 months of leaving the monastery, Stephon had reverted to his old, flaky self. He travels from city to city, always following the same routine. During the days, he’s ensconced in the library, hidden behind piles of books on local history and geography, and during the evenings he can be found in one of the bars in the city, listening and occasionally telling tales. Very few of the patrons pay attention to the tales he tells, possibly because he tends to seem more than a little drunk, perhaps because his tales are far-fetched, but mainly because Stephon couldn’t spin a good yarn if his life depended on it. It’s a shame no-one pays any attention, because the stories Stephon tells are all true. When he comes across someone or something that goes against the will of the One True God, Bahamut, his programming takes over, and he returns to the efficient killing machine he has been trained to be. There is something else about Stephon that even he doesn’t know. If it comes to it, the elders of the Monastery can call him from a distance and give him a job to do, if the job is important enough to the Will of Bahamut.
Stephon Marbury dresses exceedingly well, the only thing suggesting that he may be anything other than a superficial man-about-town is the falchion he carries strapped across his back. Tall, slim and attractive, most people want to get to know him, especially with his clothes indicating ostentatious wealth. Once they start talking to him, however, their opinions quickly change. Stephon is a fop and a bore. An interesting combination, but one he carries off with panache. When he’s not regaling you with tales of the history and geography of the local area, however, the conversation takes a more disturbing tone, as Stephon starts telling tales of fell beasts and dangerous places he’s seen and conquered. Most dismiss this as fantasy, which is understandable but foolish.