Mission D'Cannith

Mission D'Cannith

Mental characteristics

Personal history

D-42 is a failed experimental Warforged prototype created in the forge of Haestus d’Cannith (in 980 YK) and gifted to Baron Zorlan d’Cannith (981 YK). He spent his early years as a silent guardian and servant of young Finnix d’Cannith (son of Zorlan d’Cannith), who occasionally instructed him to gather wood, metal, and other materials. He also served as an assistant in the use of the very same materials for amateur arcane science experiments. This assistance led to observation, which led to speech, which led to learning, which gradually led to input and participation. At this point, Finnix began to introduce D-42 to new things outside of the laboratory; people, dogs, butterflies, flowers, and value of life. Finnix’s father found this annoying but mostly trivial. The servants and residents of the d’Cannith estate grew fond of the curious Warforged. Finnix permitted him to accept assignments (within reason) from other members of the house, earning him the moniker, “Mission.” By 985 YK, a bold move by Mission would earn him the attention and favour of Zorlan. Though permitted to roam the estate, Mission had never entered their dining room. Instead, he was strictly instructed by Zorlan to stand guard right outside, to make sure that dinners go undisturbed. He was doing the very same one night, when Zorlan had an unfamiliar guest. Finnix had accidentally spilled random alchemical liquids a week before, resulting in a volatile mixture that smelled of “cassava root and bitter almonds,” according to Finnix. Mission heard a pop and smelled that very same distinct scent from the dining room, prompting him to peek and see the guest pouring a liquid into the his owner’s goblet. The Warforged paused to consider the orders he’d been given, before impulsively bursting in, knocking the drink off of the hands of Zorlan, and placing himself between him and the guest. Zorlan had barely registered what just happened when the guest came charging at him with a dagger. “Die, filthy Abector!,” the elf screamed before being tackled to the ground. Mission instinctively began to eliminate the threat through strangulation, but stopped halfway through as he could not bring himself to end a life. The circumstances of this event would pique Zorlan’s curiosity, and he would ponder the nature of the Warforged prototype for almost a fortnight. From gaining speech, to disobeying a strict order, and even overriding his built-in violent nature, Mission appeared to be breaking the limits of his initial potential.
Out of both gratitude and a desire to test his limits, Zorlan began to include Mission in the lessons he taught his son. The Warforged was an easy student for most subjects, being inherently inclined towards rote memorization, repetition, and other mechanical activities. In time, he even proved to have some potential in mastering Arcane Science, almost catching up to Finnix’s level. However, Mission was often difficult and stubborn in the subject of philosophy; first due to his endless questions, later due to his penchant for disagreement and skepticism. This annoyed Zorlan to no end, but he was secretly proud of his student’s determination to break the mold. The inclusion of Mission began a healthy, albeit slightly imbalanced, competition to earn the favor of the teacher. “Show us what you’re really made of,” was Zorlan’s repetitive encouragement.
By 987 YK, young Finnix began to feel resentment over what he perceived as his father’s favoritism for the Warforged. During one particularly intense contest, a race to finish an alchemical concoction, Finnix nearly screamed at Mission, but was stopped by an intense sensation over his entire torso. All anger subsided as Mission rushed to catch a fainting Finnix. He had manifested the Mark of Making. The competition between the two became a partnership once again, as Finnix scrambled to test his newfound gift. All would not be well, however, as a creeping illness began to affect the adolescent. With each passing day, he appeared to be fatigued earlier, until he found himself unable to walk without a crutch. Mission volunteered to help with his mobility, but he could not help his lack of appetite and energy.
By 988 YK, Zorlan’s trade network had grown so vast that long travel had become a regular occurrence, and he grew more and more absent in the household. He’d bring Mission with him on these travels as well, having found him useful not just for protection, but for detecting sleazy conditions in contracts before signing. Finnix would join them at first, but the roads proved too rough, and the rivers proved too nauseating. It was during negotiations and trades that Mission would witness a harsh and indifferent side of Zorlan. His disposition would always return to his usual kind and wise self after such transactions. Still, as the company he kept grew more and more questionable, Mission began to question him. “Why did you sell the weapons to the bandits rather than the villagers, Sir?”, Mission inquired during one of their homebound travels. Offended by the question’s tone, the Baron shouted in reply, “Do you know how expensive Finnix’s treatment is?!” The carriage shook from Zorlan’s outburst. Outside it began to rain, as if Zorlan’s thunderous statement summoned a tempest. Seeing teardrops fall from his master’s eyes, Mission placed his left hand on his Master shoulder for comfort. Zorlan confided that Finnix’s condition was unexplainable, and no treatment has been significantly effective. He took the Warforged’s hand and cried into it. “Help me, Mission.” “Help me, Mission.” “Help me, Mission.” “Help me, My Son.”
By 989 YK, Finnix would be bed-ridden, and Zorlan’s cold reputation would necessitate that he have a bodyguard at all times during his travels and trades. Mission began to serve as both protection and conscience to the Baron, doing what he can to keep transactions from going too far. Zorlan continued to teach Mission, treating him as his student and adopted son. Finnix was happy to have his brother finally openly recognized as such, though such things would never be spoken of outside of their estate.
In 991 YK, what should have been a routine shipment to Shadukar would end in tragedy. Zorlan noticed the unusual military presence in the city too late, and paid for it with his life. Surprised by a more than a dozen soldiers upon exiting their carriage, Mission could not protect his father in time. The Warforged went berserk, enraged at the sight of a blood-drenched blade protruding from his father’s back. He pulled off the murderer’s head and helmet and began to decimate the entire squad with it. He was soaked in blood and guts by the time the reinsman calmed him down. He carried his father’s corpse and gently laid it down inside the wagon. “Let’s go home, whip. Before those hundreds of torches surround us,” he instructed the reinsman. They rushed to leave the city, with half the d’Cannith convoy left to fare for themselves. A peculiar bottle rolled off from his father’s side as the wagon shook. He picked it up, closed his father’s eyes, and stared at the destruction through the window. He had to be strong. He had to face Finnix and tell him of his failure. He’d find the words, but Finnix’s cries of anguish would fill the estate, resounding for miles upon miles. Finnix would sleep a long sleep after, from which he would not wake until years after.
So Mission became the de facto lord of the estate, his father dead and his brother comatose. He’d spend most of his days indoors, guarding his brother, watching spellcasters magically feeding him, and observing relatives visiting him. They spoke kind words, despite raising their eyebrows at the Warforged. However, Mission knew their true intent, as he had seen them taking note of Zorlan’s artifacts and measuring the size of the property. They were vultures, and he needed to protect his father’s legacy from them. He tried his best to keep house affairs in order, but found himself mostly powerless without his father by his side. He wasn’t flesh enough, apparently.
By 996 YK, the vultures had won. Mission was unsure how they did it but that… thing in the Master’s bedroom was not Finnix. His brother neither spoke nor moved in that manner. He didn’t know where to go, but Mission knew he couldn’t stay in the estate. He could not let his father’s legacy come to ruin, yet also couldn’t exercise his rights as heir. As he exited the estate with a measly set of tools, a messenger greeted him and handed a piece of paper labelled Copy of the Treaty of Thronehold. He read the contents and wondered. No, he would wonder no more. It was time to shift from wondering to wandering. He had to show them what he’s really made of.

Gender Identity

Male

Sexuality

Complete and total virgin

Education

Home-schooled by Finnix and Zorlan d'Cannith.

Failures & Embarrassments

Failed to save his father during an ambush in Shadukar. Failed to protect his brother from d'Cannith vultures.

Mental Trauma

PTSD from witnessing his father's murder and subsequently going on a rampage.

Intellectual Characteristics

Suspiciously intelligent for a failed experimental warforged.

Morality & Philosophy

Focuses on transcending his nature, recognizing no limits for self-achievement and improvement. However, life must be recognized as precious; prefers mercy over justice for humanoids.

Taboos

Only when taking a bath

Personality Characteristics

Motivation

1. Avenge the death of his adoptive father
2. Become flesh and be recognized as heir of Zorlan d'Cannith
3. Cure his brother

Likes & Dislikes

Dislikes flesh privilege.

Virtues & Personality perks

Prefers not to kill humanoids, if he can help it.

Vices & Personality flaws

PTSD Flashbacks upon killing a humanoid.
Obsessed with becoming flesh.
Sheltered Warforged (did not participate in the Last War).

Personality Quirks

Misses emotional cues.
Shorter and lighter than most warforged.

Hygiene

Easy maintenance due to having a construct body.

Social

Contacts & Relations

Relatives and employees of Zorlan and Finnix d'Cannith

Family Ties

Deceased adoptive father, One "living" adoptive brother,

Religious Views

Atheist

Social Aptitude

Capable but sometimes misses emotional cues

Mannerisms

Blank facial expression

Hobbies & Pets

Tinkers with himself

Speech

Common, Celestial, Gnomish

Wealth & Financial state

None

An usually small and dark artificer warforged, haunted by loss and guilt.

View Character Profile

Alignment

Chaotic Good

Date of Birth

980 YK

Birthplace

Experimental Creation Forge of Haestus d'Cannith

Current Residence

None

Gender

Identifies as Male

Eyes

Green

Hair

None

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Dark Metal

Height

5'5

Weight

254 lbs.

Quotes & Catchphrases

Looks like I'm casting body-viagra on myself again.

Known Languages

Common, Celestial, Gnomish