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Name Edit

Cedric Uthar Lavender of Thelsamar.

Nickname: Cult

Race and ClassEdit

Human Rogue

Background Edit

Cult or Cedric Uthar Lavender of Thelsamar, which is his real name, was born in a poor farmer family by the name of Paleface. The Palfaces who already had sent one of their daughters, Astibeth, to Paladin training, could not afford this child either and gave him away for adoption. It fell on Jabernock Paleface, Cults uncle to find a family who could raise their son. Jabernock, who is a notorious drinker sat Cult in a basket on the road and hide in the bushes, hoping that some travellers would pick him up.

Now it happened that two adventurers who passed the basket with the baby had recently lost their child. They immediately fell in love with the little boy and to Jaberknocks great pleasure they took him under their wings. Well, they were Dwarfs, but Jabernock was an open-minded man and he had some moonshine waiting for him so he thought that the boy would be safe with the dwaven couple.

The Dwarfs, Grobin Caskbelly and his wife, Hetra Lavender of Thelsamar were of noble dwarven blood and belonged to the inner circle of the explorer’s league. Both well educated idealists who believed in a strong alliance. They raised Cult with love and learned him everything they knew about history and archaeology.

Cult turned out to have talents for storytelling and poetry he developed good manners and became a true noble man. Still he was never accepted in the dwarven community and to Caskbelly’s sorrow the explorers league could not offer him a position. Cult felt like an outcast and by the age of 13, Caskbelly took his adoptive soon and tracked down Cedrics parents in Elwynn. The Palefaces who now had a better economy thanks to their adventuring daughter were glad to see their son. With grief in his heart Caskbelly returned Cult to the humans, knowing that he would never be accepted in the dwarven world he hoped that Cult would make himself a future with his own kin. But this was to late, way to late.

The other adolescents in Elwynn mocked Cults manners, his Dwarven dialect and his passion for poetry. To survive Cult learned how to hide, sneak and above all how to fight. Everyday he had to stand up for himself and who he was. The only true joy in his life was his harsh but warm sister Astibeth who always stood up for him. Astibeth who did not fit in the Palladin world had been recruited by MI:8 “The military intelligence” and she learned her brother some skills of the under world. Now MI:8 was a corrupted organisation lead by the evil leader Fence. Astibeth got in true troubles and disappeared, obviously dead. Cult who could not believe such a thing ran away from home and travelled to his Dwaven family who gave him the recourses to search for Astibeth.

After 6 months Cult tracked her down in Descolace, wandering around talking to herself like a madman. What happened to Astibeth is lost in history, she only remembered fragments but Cult learnt that it had something to do with here involvement in MI:8. He swore that he would one day get to the bottom of things and revenge what they had done to his sister. Meanwhile the explorer’s league had started to found more and more compromising facts about the history of the alliance. Things started to get out of hand, people mumbled about the lack of true heroes, about source of evil being the elves and their Well of eternity who sundered the continents and created the maelstrom among other things.

These events lead to the creation of the Explorer’s leagues special opts, the Troubadours. Lacking the skills to build an organisation like that themselves, the league turned to Caskbelly, who of course finally found a way to fit his son into the world of the dwarfes. The rest is history.


Stories and Poetry Edit

Brave adventurers are you sick of doing all these quests? Then listen to what Cult the Jester suggests. Relax, go and grab yourself some ale, and then sit down and listen to my tale.

I may not be a hero with a shinny lance, but at my own risk I will take the chance. And without any sort of permission, I will mock the Scarlet Mission.

There once was a Paladin bye the name of Craig, who’s family was wiped by the undead plague. In despair Craig cried out for revenge, and swore: “My parents I will avenge.”

Now Craig was used to a noble life in glamour, and therefore to weak to lift his hammer. When he found himself in times of trouble, he used to run around in his paladin bubble.

Because of his unimpressive build, Craig could not join a single Guild. All the other Paladins laughed; “Hiding is that boy’s only craft.”

Depressed he strolled around the Auction House, and there he saw a man in a red blouse. He thought; what is this a masquerade? But then he realized it was the Scarlet Crusade.

In the middle of our capital town, there stood a Scarlet Clown. With fanatic burning eyes, he shouted that the dead would arise.

Then he called a Gnome a “flea”, and told an Elf to go home to his tree. With a strong and determined voice, he preached that Craig had no choice.

Now the paladin Craig was very unsure, you could actually say he was a bit immature. On his knees resolute he said, that he would follow the man in red.

So they dressed Craig in red and gave him a Tabard, blessed him and gave him the rank of a guard. Then they set off to the forsaken town of Brill, to slay the undead and their mission fulfill.

The Silverpine Forrest was dark and cold, and there; a dozen men in red so bold. In this shady night, their red dresses shined so bright.

Now it may not have been so wise, to approach Brill in this poor disguise. Like lanterns the crusaders could be seen, and where spotted by the horde so mean.

In the gathering dusk they approached their goal, when they got ambushed by a single troll. Now for this tactics they had not been trained, and tragically they where all instantly slained.

Now fate sometimes makes an ironic twitch, poor Craig woke up and found himself being a Lich. So what can be learned from this tragic story, about stupid fanatics seeking some glory?

If you have listened in detail, you now know the moral of my tale; If you are of to slain the undead, do never ever dress in red.

I thank you all for your time, to listen and maybe enjoy my rhyme. And with the Scarlets do not seek a strife, just ignore them and look on the bright side of life.

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