Tobias Felix
The Card Master
(a.k.a. Twisted Fate)
“It's not gambling if you can't lose...”
Biography
Twisted Fate is an infamous cardsharp and swindler who has gambled and charmed his way across much of the known world, earning the enmity and admiration of the rich and foolish alike. He rarely takes things seriously, greeting each day with a mocking smile and an insouciant swagger. In every possible way, Twisted Fate always has an ace up his sleeve. Born to the nomadic river folk of the Serpentine Delta, the boy Tobias Felix quickly learned what it was to be an outsider. Tolerated for the exotic goods they peddled, but shunned for their strange traditions, his people found only short welcomes wherever they berthed their colorful river barques. His elders would shrug, and say this was just the way of the world… but the obvious prejudice always stuck in Tobias’ craw. He found his true calling in the gambling tents, between games of chance and skill like Mortwheel and Stabberscotch, when he first picked up a deck of playing cards. Many years earlier, his superstitious grandfather had shown him how to read omens in the shuffle and cut, while his aunt had later taught him how to read all an opponent’s tells. Between the two, Tobias took to the high-stakes game of Krakenhand like an old master. He could almost feel each card’s place in the deck, and follow their movements through each successive hand. He was often accused of cheating, but it was difficult for anyone to explain exactly how. Finally, one night, a group of men who’d lost their fortunes to young Tobias returned in the dead of night to settle the score. They came bearing cudgels and, emboldened by cheap rotgut, went from tent to tent in their search for him, beating down any of the river folk who got in their way. Fearing for his life, Tobias turned and fled into the darkness. When dawn came, the lad sheepishly crept back to find his people breaking down the camp. No one would look him in the eye. He had thought only of himself, and left others to face the consequences of his actions. Though he begged and pleaded with them all, Tobias was exiled for what he had done. With his whole world falling apart around him, he watched helplessly as the barques left, leaving him alone on the riverbank with nothing but his grandfather’s worn deck of cards clutched in his hands. He grew to manhood as a drifter, trawling the gambling halls of every settlement he came to, using his preternatural skill to earn enough coin to survive. That Tobias was able to relieve the boastful, the arrogant, and the cruel of their cash was just an added bonus—though he was always careful to let his marks win at least a few hands, here and there. Across one table, he met a deplorable fellow named Malcolm Graves. Each recognizing a kindred soul, Tobias and Graves quickly joined forces, and the two of them spent years running various… dubious endeavors across the northeastern coastal towns, and beyond. With every con, swindle, and heist, Tobias felt the pull of the cards growing stronger, and he knew it was more than mere gambler’s luck that guided him. His people had always waved away concerns over primitive magic and “cartomancy”, but now Tobias began to seek out ever more dangerous means to bend the cards to his will. That search ended badly when a particularly daring heist went wrong. The exact details of that night remain shrouded in mystery, for neither of them likes to speak of it—but Graves was taken alive, while Tobias and their other accomplices ran free. Though he tried to break Graves out, he failed. Instead, seeking to begin again, he returned his birth name to the river’s waters, and took another: Twisted Fate. After that, Twisted Fate continued to ply his criminal trade in the high parlors and low dens of every city he visited, though without his partner to help him, he tended to find himself cornered far more often. Indeed, he was imprisoned with great fanfare too many times to count, yet no cell ever seemed able to hold him for long; Twisted Fate was always gone with morning’s light, leaving only a mocking calling card to confirm he had ever been there at all. In the port of Bilgewater, Twisted Fate and Graves finally had their day of reckoning. They were forced to put aside their differences after being caught up in a power struggle between the ship captains who ran the place—but following the death of the reaver king Gangplank, the pair managed a swift reconciliation before shoving off and making for distant Piltover. All in all, Twisted Fate is glad to have his old friend back, even if it might take another job or two—or ten—to restore their once easy partnership.Double Down
All eyes in Fortune's Glory were on Twisted Fate. He felt the gambling hall's many patrons regarding him with a mixture of envy, vicarious excitement, and spiteful longing for him to lose everything on the turn of the last card. Beyond the avarice common to dens of chance, Twisted Fate felt a singular purpose at work here, a noose being slowly drawn around his neck. The cards were twitching in agitation, warning him of danger. He knew he should fold and get out before whoever was hunting him sprang their trap, but the opportunity to make a pauper of the man across the table was too enticing to forego. He grinned at his opponent, a greedy merchant whose fortune was built on the whipped backs of enslaved miners. The man's robes were expensive: Freljord furs, hand-tooled leather, and Bilgewater sea charms. Every finger boasted a ring of blood gold worth more than most men would see in a lifetime. Aromatic smoke drifted from clay pipes to hang over the fortune in coin, jewelry, and deeds lying between them like a pirate's treasure horde. Twisted Fate nodded toward the merchant. “I do believe it's your call, Master Henmar.” “I am aware of the rules, river rat,” said Henmar, as Twisted Fate ran his tattooed fingers in a repeating spiral pattern on the backs of his cards. “And do not think any of your fancy sleight of hand is going to distract me into making an error of judgment.” “Distract you?” said Twisted Fate, exuding laconic confidence in every gesture. “I declare, I would never stoop to such a low and dishonorable ruse.” “No? Then why is it your eyes keep darting from the table?” said Henmar. “Listen closely, I have negotiated with the best of them, and I know the tell of a desperate man when I see it.” Twisted Fate gave a sly grin, swapping the cards between his hands and theatrically doffing his wide-brimmed hat. “You're sharp, sir. I can see that,” he said, sweeping his gaze across the gathered crowd. The usual collection of hangers-on; men and women hoping that whoever won might be generous to those nearby. The cards trembled as Twisted Fate's eyes fell upon certain individuals and he felt his mouth fill with the rancid flavor of sour milk. He’d long learned to trust that reaction as a sign of imminent bedlam. There. A man with an eye patch and a flame-haired woman. They were almost certainly armed and well aware of his slippery nature. Did he know them? Probably not. Were they working for Henmar, protecting his assets? Unlikely. A man like Henmar would make it obvious who he'd brought. Bounty hunters then. The cards were growing ever more alarmed in Twisted Fate's hands. He slipped them together and placed them flat on the table. “You have a look that tells me you know you have already lost,” said Henmar with the tone of a man who believes everyone to be his inferior. “Then what say we make this a little more interesting, sir?” replied Twisted Fate, spreading the cards in a fan and watching as the hunters eased closer. “Care to double down?” “Are you able to cover that much?” asked Henmar suspiciously. “Easily,” said Twisted Fate, locking his gaze with the merchant and lifting a heavy pouch of coins from the voluminous pockets of his long coat. “Can you?” Henmar licked his lips and snapped his fingers. A flunky behind the merchant handed him a matching bag of coins. The patrons of Fortune's Glory gave a collective moan as it was added to the gold heaped in the middle of the table. Wars had been waged for less coin than was at stake here. “You first,” said Henmar. “Always,” agreed Twisted Fate, flipping over his cards as the bounty hunters made their move. The man with the eye patch lunged at him with a capture collar. The woman shouted his name and drew a matching pair of pistols. Twisted Fate kicked the underside of the table, spinning it into the air in a shower of coins, cards, and parchment. The pistols fired with deafening roars, blasting fist-sized holes in the table. The capture collar snapped closed, but when the smoke cleared and the screams stopped, Twisted Fate was nowhere to be found. Henmar rose to his feet, his face twisted in outrage as he searched in vain for his opponent. He looked down at the broken pieces of the table and the color drained from his face. “Where is the money?” he yelled. “Where is my money?” Five cards fluttered face-up to the floor of Fortune's Glory. A winning hand.
Current Location
Species
Ethnicity
Age
36-41
Birthplace
Bilgewater
Children
Pronouns
He/Him
Sex
Male
Gender
Man
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