The Story of Westley “Wenceslas” Softpad, The Electrician.
Westley was an unlucky child. A catfolk bastard born to a poor catfolk woman in a barn. He had black hair, and wide green eyes. He was smart though, learned quickly, and grew into a fine, and tall young catfolk with a particularly long tail.
His mother was traveling along the road at dawn when her contractions began. She had been a captive and slave to a group of brigands, and had only managed to gather the strength and courage to escape after hearing with her keen catfolk ears what the brigands planned to do with her child.
She had been running and walking as quickly as her feet would carry her, and though she felt as she might give out at any moment, somehow pressed on hour after hour. In the dim glow of the dawn yet unbroken she could see a large barn. She maneuvered over the fence and into the structure with what was truly feline grace, and found herself in a stall, on a bed of hay, laying next to a cow.
With no time to spare, Westley was born, and his mother only held him closer when the farmer arrived, alerted by her screams. Interestingly enough, he noticed that the cows were not alarmed as he might have expected. Having seen his animals trust the strange catfolk, he decided to as well and welcomed her, and Westley, into their home. Westley’s mother would be the only one to ever know of the two other kittens who died in the stall.
As a youngling, Westley enjoyed running off to play in the fields between the farm and the nearby Lakespring Woods. He was only allowed to play in the back of the farm where travelers on the road couldn’t see him, and he only ever played with the farmers two children, whom he called his own brother and sister.
He was tall for a catfolk, which are often the size of humans, but are rarely seen throughout Ados. Over a millennia ago, catfolk arrived in Ados, and made their own settlements, often near forests and jungles. They were unknown to the savage men of the world, and were seen as relatives to the lycanthropes. They were hunted nearly to extinction. Few remained, harbored by more civilized folk, often living their whole lives in secrecy.
Westley and his mother worked for the farmer and his family to earn their stay there. Their hosts had little issue with the fact that they were catfolk, and all the animals and “animal-kind” got along quite well. The felines often wore hats and long sleeved clothing while working out and about, and fortunately for them, the farm was situated on a road but away from any large towns.
When he wasn’t working, Westley and the other children would run and play in the fields, and would often gaze into the forest longing to see what they had been prohibited from. Being children, they thought that the best time to sneak out and see something they weren’t supposed to, would be at night.
They made their plan, waited until after they heard their parents fall asleep, and went off through the field into the woods. They knew the walk from earlier that day, and went silently through the blackness, the two humans following behind Westley who could see somewhat even through the dark. He was only wearing his britches, and felt so free being able to stalk through the dark, about to see that which he had only imagined.
We can only imagine their disappointment as they felt the first raindrops fall. They had not noticed that the sky was dark as well, and were now near the forest, unsure what to do. Westley insisted they go on, and the other two followed. They went into the woods until they heard the boom of distant thunder, and felt more safe from rain beneath the canopy of leaves. However, they had lost their way, and began to panic. They did not know which way they had come from, and no one, not even Westley could locate their tracks in the mud and darkness.
Unable to think of anything else, Westley volunteered to climb a tree and determine if he could see which direction was home. The two humans stepped back to watch as Westley climbed, black fur on black forest, they could not see him, and tried to desperately, calling out as they circled the tree.
Westley returned their calls, and let them know that he was alright, but he would not be able to hear over the wind once he was at the top. He climbed on, and poked his head up above the tallest branches. He gazed around, squinting his keen eyes, and shielding them from the rain and wind with one hand. He did see a small light in the distance, and another, and another, and realized that it was candles being lit in the farmhouse.
He had only a moment to fear the farmer’s wrath before he was awash in fear of nature’s wrath. A splitting crack was heard for only the moment it took for Westley to look upwards, and a splendid flash and thunderclap devoured his senses as he was filled with more energy than he could fathom.
His hands and feet seized with tremors and he lost his grip, lights flashing in his vision, he felt himself falling backwards, and down.
He awoke, a searing pain in his chest and arcing to his limbs. The first thing he saw, was his mother, who was as pale as a catfolk can be and staring down at him with tears in her eyes. He was laying on a bed of hay in the barn, where the two human children had dragged him, along with help from their father who found them in the field minutes after the lightning struck.
The others were standing around him, and were glad he was alive. It took him two weeks to recover. The first thing he noticed, was that he had a small white patch at the top of his sternum, as well as that all his hair had turned grey. He walked with a cane for the first week while he allowed his body to re-learn its motions, and was immensely curious about how it all happened.
More than fear, more than pain, more than the shock of his hair changing color, Westley wanted to know why it had happened, and how. The farmer was not a well-learned man, and had little in the form of literature, much less anything about lightning and storms. The farmer however, decided that the children were growing up, and that instead of fearing the forest and being unprepared, he would teach them and take them hunting.
Westley was no good with a bow, and more than once nearly shot himself in the foot. He discovered instead that his claws gave him an advantage when skinning and butchering the prey. The farmer did teach him to use a knife, which he did sometimes, but preferred to use his own claws when possible. As Westley soon became proficient with both, the farmer seemed to mind less which he chose.
Westley wanted to know more about the world. He was an inquisitive young man, and wanted more for himself than the life of a secretive farmer. His mother knew he would be like this, adventurous, claiming that his father had been that way too. Westley sometimes asked about his father, and his mother grew sad and didn’t share very much information with him. He knew it bothered her, so he stopped asking after a few times.
She couldn’t stop him, that much she knew, but she wanted him to be safe. The world wasn’t as fearmongering and bloodthirsty as it had once been, but it was still not a safe place for someone as unique as a catfolk. She taught him as best as she could how to disguise himself. She made him a unique, albeit shoddy set of gloves and boots, and told him he could tell people he had a deformity, or disease and that he can’t remove them lest it spread.
He bid farewell to his mother, and adopted family, and went off in search on answers. Westley traveled around the Eastern regions of Ados, often staying at Wanderer’s Temples, accepting the meager meals or hunting for his own food outside of towns and cities. He would hide away in the corner of a library for an entire day, reading all he could.
More than once, his disguise failed, and along the road he could flee, but within a town, he often found himself grateful for being taught how to use a dagger. He didn’t enjoy killing people, and often tried only to slow them and prevent his own capture. He was very good at sneaking away unseen into the masses once he had escaped his accuser. Fortunately for him, people in this part of the world found it hard to believe someone had seen a catfolk, and any rumors didn’t last.
One day, he found himself along the road under dark heavy clouds. He had been fascinated with storms and lightning ever since his childhood experience, and he had often found himself walking outside when it was about to rain or storm. It had been years and he felt like something within him would be revealed. He heard the rumbling thunder and gazed up as he had always done, this time, raising his hand to ward the flash and to his amazement, watching the lightning travel through his hand, and instead of through his body, jolted straight down to the ground.
Westley has since read many books, and learned how to use his energy to cast spells. Despite his abilities, he stays true to his nature. He continues to hide his appearance daily, sometimes doing so magically. He continues to enjoy his skill with a dagger, and has learned to weave his slashes and spells, in an electric dance of death.
He has begun to build a small reputation for himself, as a human wizard, who goes by the name Wenceslas. Preferring to deal with requests that have to do with thunder and lightning, which he continues to be fascinated with, and believes there is always more to know about it.
Westley “Wenceslas” Softpad is a 22 year old catfolk (at least) level three Rogue, with the Arcane Trickster Roguish Archetype. He stands 6′ (1.8m) tall, and has grey fur covering his body, with the exception of a white patch at the top of his sternum. His tail is 4′ (1.2m) long, which is exceptionally long, and he often finds himself wrapping it around his waist under his clothing when hiding, or occasionally holding it in his hands subconsciously when in his true form.
When disguised, which he nearly always is while in town or meeting new people, he appears as a human and goes by Wenceslas. Only his family and closest friends call him Westley.
Westley is Chaotic Neutral, or can be Chaotic Good, although he really is more about learning new things for himself, and what he can gain to send to the farm. He is prone to mischief, touching things he isn’t supposed to, and going places he’s been told not to go. He is still a child at heart, and yearns for adventure, the one thing he knows to have in common with his father.
His mother has never told him who his father was, and while it’s something he would like to know, he doesn’t actively seek his father. It does linger in his mind sometimes, and he gets silently sad about it.
He is very smart, quite quick, but not always the most thoughtful, especially in regards to challenges he might face. Westley believes he has enough power, somewhere within himself, to do anything in time. He does understand the limits of his abilities, but often wishes for more and comes up with plans that require more than he is capable of, before scaling them down to the realm of possibility.
Westley enjoys the presence of animals and intimate friends over crowds and strangers. He has become more adept at disguising himself, and is ever wary of the world around him, keen eyes waiting for the moment that someone accuses him of being something he is not.
He also has an interest in lycanthropes and other transformative magical occurrences, as it is one of the few things he knows about his people’s history. He has learned much about Ados in his studies, but still knows little about his own generational and cultural heritage.
Despite being feared for reasons he thinks make little sense, he harbors no resentment towards most folk, and is appreciative and understanding of people’s hard work. Even though he has an intellect about him, he knows little, and cares little, for politics, business, or societies. Westley believes people like the farmer are the best people. Simple, earthy folks who don’t hurt other people and try to help those when they can. Westley tries to live like this as well.
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