Karos

Karos is a character that was originally intended to be a D&D character, but eventually just became an OC. Because of this, the current backstory I have for him is in first person and based off of the "haunted one" background. It's not necessarily the most accurate backstory at the moment, I'm working on changing it a little.

The voices have been here for as long as I can remember. How long is that? How long has it been... They say they're "god", but I know that isn't true. Why? Gods aren't real, they can't be. If they were, I wouldn't be cursed to live the life that I do.  

I'm cursed, haunted, whatever you want to call it. Voices speak to me, calling for me to fulfill my "purpose". Refusing their requests has never been enough. To make matters worse, I was born with this ashen skin, these horns that crawl from my brow, the pointed tail that flows from my waist, this...frightful appearance.  

I always say the earliest memory I have is picking up my dulcimer. I've never had parents, never really had friends. I had no means of living, and no where to live even if I did. I was shunned from society because of my appearance, and because no one could understand what was going on in my head. I'd find myself waking up from fits of grinding my horns, both to null the voices and the attempt of fixing my appearance. I was nearly driven to suicide, then I found that dulcimer.  

It was sitting next to a doorstep in an alley, beaten and untuned. I found myself involuntarily reaching for it, like it was my destiny, if you believe in that sort of thing. Next thing I knew I was running, I needed this instrument and I wasn't going to let anyone take it from me. I didn't care about it's owner or why it was there, all I knew was that it was mine now, and no one was going to change that. 

I taught myself to play in the darkest corners of the streets. I'd sit next to the windows of taverns and listen in so I could try and mimic the notes that the bards played. If I was lucky enough to get within eyesight of street performers, I'd sit down and play along, watching their fingers slide down the strings and caress the notes. Those were the only times I could truly be at ease, that the voices would stop.  As I grew I found myself travelling. Street to street, inn to inn, tavern to tavern, all to make some coin. Although cursed with the mind I have and the appearance I've taken on, I consider myself lucky to be able to live this sort of life and experience the sights I've seen.  I can't say that I've necessarily grown "fond" of society, but I've certainly taken an interest in people. People are so interesting, so unique. It's amazing to play my music and watch the reactions of those that pass. I'm never truly alone with the voices constantly speaking to me, but nothing beats a real conversation with an enthralling person. When I find myself being driven to speak back to the voices in my head, I look for someone to strike a conversation with after my performances.