The Prophecy of the Group
Swelt is a medium build changeling, with an ashy grey complexion and thin black scars running down his face and neck. Shimmering silver hair crops up under his black hood and cloak. Wearing a rough set of leather gloves with a twin set of khopesh blades hanging off of each shoulder.
Born in the Northern under the control of the Faran empire in a large coastal city, Swelt was the child of two loving parents. His father worked as a herbalist and healer in the city and his mother sold textiles and cloth goods in the market. Despite the reputation that most Changelings are born into, Swelt’s parents did all they could to lead honest lives, set apart from the rampant corruption that the cold climate only served to facilitate. The government of the massive Empire was flawed through and through, with appointed sycophantic governors being cycled in and out as it pleased the crown across the Sea. Each new governor promised the homeland more ridiculous earnings and territorial growth than the last, and the officers, bureaucrats and soldiers were forced to exploit every possible chance they had to fulfill their forsworn duties and yet live a reasonably comfortable life in the unforgiving land. \
Swelt’s parents even did reasonably well for themselves, his father’s small greenhouse grew herbs that weren’t available for hundreds of miles, and his mothers skill was infamous in the Northern States. All of this would be taken from Swelt. When a new young Viceroy was appointed and began to announce massive reforms to farm organization it became clear that the richest of the Orc bureaucrat’s had something to lose. When the Viceroy was found with a slit throat it was obvious that the Orc aristocracy had ordered the hit. But it was so convenient to blame the already distrusted Changeling community that existed along the Northern ports. The Emperor himself ordered the extermination of all Changelings in the Northern States, and soon whole divisions of Colonial Orc Armies, led by members of The Emperor’s Reach, were engulfing the Coastal port cities and wiping out the communities of Changeling’s that had coexisted with the colony for almost a century. The killers went door to door, cutting hair off of suspected Changelings to verify their identities, then dragging them into the streets to be cut down. Hundreds died, and almost none survived.
Swelt was 15 at the time and as the armies swarmed into the harbour square he immediately hid himself, taking the form of a drunken orc sailor. But as the army left the town, they deposited corpse after corpse into the square, each one mutilated in its own way. Immediately following this he armed himself with his fathers herbs and medicine book, and two curved daggers and began to make his way South. He learned the mixture of poisons readily, as though his fathers talent for healing had been reversed in the role of the son, and the blades earned much use quickly, as Swelt fought, fled, or hid from countless Orc patrols until he reached the Parched Lands. Slowly and agonizingly making his way through the desert the young Changeling quickly learned to make the best use of the large sand cities that dotted the landscape, and began to understand the value of both his skills and his race equally as fast. Selling his talents with poison and knife to the few that could afford it in these cities made Swelt’s fate obvious to him. Escaping Death in the North only led him to deal it in the South. It was utterly inescapable. As Swelt continued South into the Spear Mountains he began to embrace the fragility of life and soon found Death to be the only thing that could be trusted in the cruel and unpredictable world. Arriving at Threshold just weeks before the Kobold attack he earned his living for a time by serving as an irregular in the city guard, planning to continue his journey, until it was interrupted by an attack of such ferocity that it kept his attention. The curiosity was further piqued by the arrival of a bedraggled and bloodied adventuring group called the Bastards, with such little regard for their reputation, fame, or lives it, seemed like a natural fit for the disenfranchised Changeling.