Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
Hedonistic Necrophilic with a penchant for disease
“What was the city like? It was beautiful, the citadel was the pride of the empire, it’s spires were jewels in the winter mornings. Summer was signaled by the blooming the trees, a thousand different hues painted the streets. And I didn’t care for a second about that when it all fell. The only thing on my mind was legion marching out and slamming shut the gates, locking the screamers in. I was a monster, I am a monster, I didn’t fight because it was the right thing, I only fought because revenge was all I had left. Now I don’t even have that. All I have is a handfulll of broken lives and a thousand hounding ghosts. And my own doubt, a gnawing tumor that will drive me mad.” -Mort, in a drunken stupor, to nedruil, also in a drunken stupor
At first glance, he seems like a skinny frail man a little off of his clock (crazy)
but after a closer look, people can tell something is picking at this man’s mind, something much more dark and secretive
a sickle-like man who often brings vermin along with him wherever he goes, and he seems to have a close relation with diseases
A obscure legend told in Taverns long after the laughing has died. An old tomb, found in a desolate city. The corpses stung up along the ruins. A few broken men holding the shards of their lives until those bleed them dry. Those are the few bits of evidense that Mort leaves behind. Some say he’s ancient, cause of everything that plagues humanity, others say he’s the herald of the end of days.
A cloaked man sitting in the corner, laughing at the crude jokes of the innkeeper’s. A handsome face with an air of royalty dining with the king on his birthday. A shadow creeping around temple walls. The lurking doubt in your mind that threats to betray you. Mort Jagged is all those things, and so much more.