Origin of the Tiefling, Cutthroat

This is the origin of an original character in the Dungeons & Dragons setting. The character of Cutthroat is a tiefling and transgender woman belonging to the Bard College of Swords. Her magical bardic abilities derive from the mesmerizing performances of her blade. Sword swallowing, knife-juggling, and fencing are her specialty. Cutthroat’s body is a tapestry of markings and scars each telling a different story. She bears golden arcane tattoos on her arms from a failed career in wizardry. The right socket of her eye sits empty from an ill-fated bargain with a devil. In a moment of absolute despair, a knife slashed across her throat leaving both her neck and voice permanently scarred. Cutthroat is a bold character who wears the scars of her past boldly and with a devilish smile.

"I’d like to get one thing straight before we begin. My name is Cutthroat, but I came into this world as Merax Krowe. The same name as my father. I can recall nothing of my childhood if I even had one. My memories start with the markings. Me alone in my room using golden ink to tattoo arcane symbols on my forearms.

Even without a past, I knew many things in my blank mind. The first being that my father, Merax “Wit” Krowe, was a powerful and renowned archmage. The people who have met the two of us have stressed that I look like a nearly identical copy of my father. A deep blue tiefling as dark as a storm cloud. The second thing that I knew was that I was his son of fourteen years and I was being groomed to succeed him as an archmage.

 Unfortunately for the two of us, I had no innate skill or prodigal talent toward the arcane. Even under the intense tutelage of one of the greatest wizards in the realm, I couldn't even perform the simplest cantrip. Merax took every opportunity to express his displeasure at the fact that his only child was too stupid to learn magic. 

These constant failures eventually drove me to desperate action. I snuck into my father’s study, stole the enchanted ink that he used to transcribe spells, and tattooed as many arcane symbols as I could on my arms. I'm not sure what my original plan was. Maybe I tended to infuse the language of the arcane into my body or maybe I just wanted a cheat sheet for the many arcane quizzes Merax subjected me to. Regardless of my intention, the markings were permanent and did extraordinarily little for me. The secrets of magic still eluded me. 

As time went on, many things became clear to me. The most obvious being that I would never master magic or even come close to my father’s level of wizardry. This fact didn't stop him from continuing my education or prevent him from expressing his frustration with me loudly. The second realization was that I was growing increasingly uncomfortable with my body. Puberty proved…traumatic. The changes forced upon me were tortuous, to say the least.

 As part of my education, I studied the many journals and diaries of the greatest archmages across history. A significant number of them had written in great detail the same experiences I was enduring then. These mages used powerful magic to alter their bodies to alleviate their discomfort. Suddenly the solution to my greatest problem was made apparent. 

I went to Merax with my issues and explained to him how he could help him. My father responded the same way he always did when I came to him with a problem. He tossed a spell scroll my way and told me that if I wanted it so bad, do it myself. We both understood that the spell was far beyond my capabilities. He gave me an impossibility. My begging and tears failed to move my father like always. Despite Merax’s refusal, I still had one final option. Not every mage that I read about used their own magic to achieve their perfected forms. Some of them struck deals with powerful entities and they left very detailed instructions. 

I did my best to be smart about it. I chose a devil instead of a fey or demon creature. The devils may be evil, but at least they followed an understandable rule of law. And there was always the possibility they would take pity on me because of our shared infernal ancestry. I picked a horned devil whose name I had found among my father’s notes that had served him in the past. The summoning ritual was performed with absolute care. The negotiations were simple enough. The devil wanted an eye so that he could see all that I had learned from my father. I was more than happy to make this bargain. I lost my right eye, but I gained my freedom. For a brief moment, I was no longer the failed son of Merax Krowe. I was his failed daughter, and life was so much better until Merax found me bleeding on the floor.

Rarely had I ever seen my father angry, but that day he was livid. To him, I had cheated the proper order of things. I had relied on someone else's magical ability instead of my own. All of his teachings and lessons had been squandered on me. In one moment he was yelling and the next he was gone. I would soon learn that he had traveled to the Nine Hells and quickly tracked the Horned Devil down. With his superior skill in the arcane, Merax killed the devil and eradicated his soul. That Horned Devil and all that it knew from my traded eye was removed from existence. This broke my contract with him and reverted me to my male form. While he was there, Merax ensured that every devil knew that to make a deal with me was to ensure their death. 

For all my trouble and sacrifice, I was still trapped in this horrific body and now had lost an eye for nothing. The final piece of my father’s punishment was to curse me. My body was now immutable. Incapable of being magically altered in any way whatsoever except by his own magic. I tried many times to summon devils and other creatures to break this curse, but none proved fruitful. They were all either too weak to overpower my father’s power or terrified of his reprisal. The creatures that could potentially challenge Merax were far beyond my ability to summon.

The next two years of my life were miserable. Each passing day it became more excruciating to live in this body. I had long ago given up any hope of becoming strong enough to change my form. I had resigned myself to grief and rage…at least until I turned 18. Shortly after that birthday, I stumbled upon a hidden room within my father’s tower. It was a lab filled with vats containing duplicates of Merax at various ages. Many of them are the same age as me. I knew what this was immediately upon seeing it. Many archmages will grow clones of themselves to replace their bodies in the case of death or severe injury. Suddenly things I had ignored or taken for granted became suspect. I had never known a mother or any other parent besides Merax. I couldn't remember anything before I was fourteen. I realized that it was entirely possible if not guaranteed that I was a clone. A dysfunctional clone that was disobedient, deformed, and incapable of magic. It was only a matter of time before Merax exterminated me and tried again with a better copy. It was all too much at the moment. Too many things had compiled and were tearing at my soul. I took a dagger to my throat, and the world went dark.

I was told later that Merax found me lifeless on the floor. The arts of healing and resurrection were not his specialty, so he took me to someone better. His twin sister Nephila “Melody” Krowe, archdruid of the Grove of Sin. I had an aunt that I had spent most of my life not knowing. I awoke in a field of soft grass and flowers in the brace of a woman who looked at me with love. Seeing her confirmed every discomfort I had ever felt. Melody was everything I wanted to be. 

During that first day of rebirth, we talked for a long time. She told me who she was and her connection to Wit. Melody spoke of their childhood and the difficulties they experienced. From nothing they rose to greatness. The more powerful they became the more their paths diverged. Wit developed an insatiable hunger for magic and knowledge so that he could never be hurt again. Melody instead chose to create a sanctuary for her people so that they could never be hurt by the world again. She grew the Grove of Sin, a heaven for tieflings, from barren rock and salted soil. For the first time, I saw my father as something different from the omnipotent wizard he reported to be. I saw him as a scared boy desperate to defend himself. It didn't remove the hate I felt toward him but it shifted it. I despised the world that made him more than I despised the man himself.

Melody told me that when Wit brought me to her, she was able to wring out my life story from him. She agreed to revive me only if he swore to leave me in her care and never seek me out ever again. He agreed. I never learned why.

For all the answers that Melody had for me, there were others that she couldn't even guess at. She didn't know if I was a clone or not. She was unaware of anyone that could have birthed me. My existence was unknown to her until Wit brought me. Melody also sadly lacked the power to break my father’s curse either. While her magic had resurrected me it could not remove the scar that decorated my neck or restore my voice that had been permanently damaged by the blade. Even while under the care of a loving arch druid my father haunted my life.

I spent six years with my Aunt in the Grove of Sin. During that time I studied her unique relationship with the arcane. For my father, magic was formulas and equations used to bend and break the natural order of the world. For Melody, magic was a pleasant conversation between her and the Earth. It was a back-and-forth that benefited everyone involved. I soon learned to hear the arcane in the rustling of the trees and the babbling of the brook. It was all a beautiful song that contained magic in every note. I still couldn't perform spells but I was happier knowing that magic had a kinder side.

While I enjoyed the nature around me I also fell in love with a boy maybe two years older than me. He didn't know his exact age. He was a bright pink tiefling named Sirxes “Love.” He was my Lyari Kaimela. My forgotten dream. My aunt had taken him in as a young child and essentially raised him. He became my best friend and knew all my secrets including my hate for my own body.  I was beyond infatuated with the boy. The tieflings of the grove had always been kind and welcoming but Love was open. He shared his feelings freely with no shame or resentment. So keenly conscious of the world and those in it. Unwilling to cause harm especially when it was in his power to avoid it. Love saw the pain that the name Merax burned in me. Like always he sought to ease my agony in such a novel way. It was Love that gave me the name, Cutthroat. A name that spoke to my rebellion from Merax.

Love explained that regardless of my beginnings, offspring of an archmage or the clone of one, the son of Merax was gone. Every scar, marking, and disfigurement was an attestment to that fact. With intricate golden tattoos, a missing eye, a slashed throat, and a damaged voice the striking resemblance to my father was gone. All that was left was a Cutthroat, someone so dedicated to freedom that they would take their own life to be free from chains. Or at least that’s how Love described it and it felt so good to hear Love describe it. He had given me a precious gift. A name and an identity all my own. I loved him for it. More than anything I loved Love. I just don’t know if he ever loved me back.

Love left the Grove of Sin not long after naming me. For so long of his life, my aunt Melody had been such an inspiration and a source of safety for him. He wanted to share that with the people of this world, not just the tieflings. So with Melody’s blessing and all her love, he left to create his own Grove somewhere. Some of the others in the grove left with him. Love was that much of a beacon, a natural-born leader that he just drew people. They knew that they were following a newly made man away from safety and into a hostile world but they followed him all the same.

It was in Love’s nature to be generous and as expected he asked me to come with me. When the request was made, so much of me wanted to say yes. So much of me wanted to scream with my ruined voice that he was everything to me and that I would follow him into the Hells, the Far Realms, or even death for all I cared. Wherever he wanted to take me. It felt like drowning. I was lost in him. So I told him no. Over the years I had only belonged to people. I was the son of Merax Krowe, then the niece of Nephila Krowe, and now the loyal companion of Sirxes “Love.” I had no idea who Cutthroat was without these people. So I left as well not long after Love.

Melody grieved the leaving of another child she had come to see as her own but swore I would always have a home at the grove should I ever want it. I left to discover who Cutthroat was and I found her at a circus. The Circus of Eternity’s Laughter found me while I was traveling the roads alone. The circus was owned by a family of Halfings, headed by Caldon and Doci Summertide, a married couple.

The two were filled with humor and good spirits but possessed a straightforward business sense. They were honest with their intent toward me. The oddity of my appearance piqued their interest but once they heard me speak the deal was sealed. They wanted me to join their motley family of tumbling halflings, strongmen bugbears, elven musicians, and the many other bizarre attractions of their circus. I agreed eagerly for a number of reasons. I was practically destitute and was in desperate need of coin, food, and shelter. Secondly, Doci and Caldon were able to entice such a burst of violent laughter from me that I’ve never known. Lastly, they had an openness that reminded me of Love and I yearned for that more than anything. In a single night, I had gone from penniless wanderer to honorary member of the Summertide clan and the newest member of the Circus of Eternity's Laughter.

Caldon and Doci put my looks to good use in the beginning. I was a roustabout whose scars and voice held the interest of paying customers as they moved between the main attractions. My employers were eager to teach me a bit of their respective skills. I learned the violin from Doci and Caldon showed me how to spin tall tales. Now my wounds came from a courageous battle with a manticore or the price of a risky trade with a dragon. I was anything and everything at once. An unknowable mystery.

The greatest skill I discovered on my own. I possess an affinity with the blade. While others shy from the cut, I embrace it wholeheartedly and remain unharmed by its edge. Sword swallowing came easily. The long point of rapiers disappears down my gullet. I could juggle a dozen daggers while blindfolded. I became the star of many mock duels all carefully choreographed by me.

For two years I felt content. The circus had become a family. I had carved myself a place where I was accepted, needed, and understood. I believed that the woman named Cutthroat had finally become fully realized. I was wrong. At the end of those years, I found myself alone in the early morning with just my violin. I played to myself, remembering those that had been my family first. I recalled Melody and Love in the grove practicing their druidic arts. Their relationship with nature was able to persuade the earth to move and convince the flowers to bloom. At that moment I realized that nature had music all its own. A melody that I could match with my violin. All of a sudden it all made a wonderful kind of logic to me. Melody and Love’s relationship with nature was so similar to my relationship with music. With performance. It was a conversation.

With this new understanding vibrations of the violin strings took on a new meaning. The instrument was not just creating music now. It was creating magic. Dancing lights of a dazzling technicolor drifted through the air controlled by my will. For the first time in my life, I was able to cast a spell. A simple cantrip but a spell all the same. The door of magic was now open to me which meant other things were open to me too.

During the years I lived in the grove, and then the circus, the discomfort of my body had never faded. It was still just as agonizing as it had been when I brought the blade to my throat in my father’s tower all those years ago. With no solution in sight, I had simply resigned myself to this suffering but now that I had magic there was the possibility of salvation. I could grow my magic to be strong enough to overcome my father’s curse. At the very least these skills could lead me to someone strong enough to free me.

There was no other choice for me but to leave another home. To leave another family. But this time it wasn’t because I was a failure or needed to go on some journey of self-discovery.  Caldon, Doci, and Eternity’s Laughter are behind me now but I carry the lessons they taught me. I carry Melody and Love’s hearts. I carry my father’s ambition. I know who I am. I am Cutthroat. I just need the power to make it a reality."