Thaddeo d'Este called Inganneo

Thaddeo d'Este
Sometimes, it's more a matter of who you know than what you know, and Thaddeo knows everyone. Though born the scion of a prominent Djeran wizarding family, Thaddeo is a Karsite, completely incapable of using arcane or divine magic. His true identity is known only to himself, his deceased father, and his estranged childhood friend. Shuffled off by his disappointed family, Thaddeo keeps up appearances as an administrative cleric through a deep understanding of pact magic and how to lie to people. These same traits have made Thaddeo an ideal spymaster, and today all intrigue in Djera goes through him. Somehow, no matter what is, Inganneo knows. Anything he chooses to tell you is almost certainly not true, but it's always based on something that is, and the value of that information means most find themselves working with him at some point.

Thaddeo has not had any direct interaction with the party yet (that any of you know of), but his taste for intrigue is not limited to Djera. Using Silver Ravens, Thaddeo communicates with a network of agents across Deia, many of whom are not fully aware that they are working for him. With a growing interest in events across the land, and it's only a matter of time until he takes a hand in things personally...

Statistics & Basic Information
What is your name?: My given name is Thaddeo d'Este,'' but you may call me whatever you like. I care not for such things. There are those who have labelled me Inganneo, and claim I use my silvered tongue to rob beautiful young women, like yourself, of their virtue. I assure you, there is no truth to such vile rumors.''

What is your race?: ''Well, I'm rather dashing for a dwarf, and not quite foppish enough for an elf. I must be a human, and proper human too, not one of those odd racial subtypes like Karsite. Say, you're human too, aren't you?''

What is your class?: ''In a word, high. Hahaha, you must forgive me, I amuse myself. I am a man of many talents. I'm sure you're aware of my familial connections to House d'Este (Noble 1), but by trade I'm an administrator in the clerical service ''(ex-Cloistered Cleric 1). Though my control of divine magic is somewhat limited (Binder 10), my ability to manage people is unparalleled (Scion of Dantalion 5). Of course, in many circles I'm more widely known as a broker of information (Spymaster 1)'', but that's pure nonsense. Unless you're in the market, of course.''

What is your alignment?: Whatever yours is (True Neutral, leaning chaotic, leaning evil).

What is your gender?: I'm male. Would you like me to produce evidence?

How old are you?: ''Why, my dear, age is but a number. It makes no difference what the difference is; the gap in years will be the very gap the flower of our passion may sprout through. But if you must know, I am ''32 Deian years old.

How old are you?: ''You want me to multiply my age by three quarters to express it in some meaningless unit of "Earth Years?" Oh, the things I do for love! Very well. I am ''24 Earth years old.

What weapon do you wield?: ''Why, the only weapon I should ever need is my rapier-sharp wit! But, ah, yes, you are correct, a gentleman should never find himself unprepared in the face of barbarism. I will show you something that many do not know, but only because you seem to be such a fair and trustworthy maiden. This pen, you see, has a rather special quality. When I shift my grip upon it just so... Voila! A non-metaphorical rapier!''

What armor do you wear?: ''None but my reputation as a gentleman of the highest quality. Well, that and this very fashionable ''Glamercloak of Disguise. ''If you are blessed with a particularly active imagination and can conjure to mind some form more attractive than my own, merely speak the words. I can be very... accommodating.''

What languages do you speak?: ''The language of love, me tosoro. Also ''common, draconic, undercommon, giantish, oceanic, crucian and elven. ''I have something of a gift with tongues. If I may demonstrate?''

End of Interview

Appearance
Height: 6'0"

Weight: 160 lb.

Eyes: One green, one pale blue.

Hair: Light brown, with a white patch carefully dyed to match the rest. Impeccably styled.

Skin: Olive, smooth and flawless.

Clothes: Always at the height of fashion. Current fashion calls for Glamercloaks, and Thaddeo's is a distinctive fashion statement. It has also been enchanted with the ability to change his form.

Personality & Traits
Notable Mechanics: Read multiple thoughts, Overwhelming thoughts, Cover identity, Soulbinding (3), Karsite spell resistance (18), Bluff checks. Oh my God the bluff checks.

Notable Behaviors: Constantly and passively reading thoughts. Thaddeo overhears thoughts the way others overhear conversations. Whenever Thadeo makes a pact with a vestige, he takes on some of their personality. Should he make an especially bad pact, this influence can give him compulsive behaviors and completely change his outlook on certain subjects, making him highly unpredictable at times.

Trademark Characteristics: Obsessed with knowing everything. Has a perpetual smirk, as though he knows something you don't. Probably does. But his natural charisma is such that people generally like him despite this, even if they are smart enough not to fully trust him.

Fatal Flaw(s): Not interested in combat, or particularly skilled at it. Makes a lot of enemies with his work, and the day he can't keep up with his own tongue, he has an appointment at the bottom of the ocean about some concrete shoes.

The Birth of Thaddeo (or, The Death of a Father's Hopes)
Bertuccio d"Este, patriarch of House d'Este, was one of the most respected wizards in all of Djera. His brilliant insights into arcana were matched only by his deft management of his family influence. While the family had always been the nominal heads of the d'Este Academy of Arcane and Divine Magicks, the follies of past generations had left Bertuccio to inherit the position as a mere figurehead. Fortunately, those who would have manipulated him severely underestimated the lengths he would be willing to go to restore his family's rightful place. Bertuccio was not a man of humor, but their fates brought a grim smile to his lips. He had fought hard to rebuild his position, and today was the first step in creating his legacy.

Bertuccio gazed upon his wife, Catarina, swollen with child and drenched in sweat. They did love each other, after a fashion. She was one of the very few to recognize his ambition for what it was from the beginning. Rather than being frightened, she was intrigued. She could tell an opportunity when she saw it. Bertuccio had seen the benefit in such a partnership as well. Catarina was from an important family herself, and her own arcane talents made her an ideal partner for his most important task; producing an heir capable of following in his greatness.

Even the most modern magic could not make childbirth a clean or easy process, but Bertuccio was largely unaffected. He had been anticipating this moment for months, and was not going to allow any unpleasantness to distract him from the matter at hand. As soon as the attendant cleric cut the child from the cord, Bertuccio took him in his arms. He was relieved to see it was in fact a boy; the clerics had said as much, but he did not really trust their inferior magic.

He scanned the boys features. He immediately noticed the eyes: one a deep, forest green and the other a pale sky-blue. Such a striking feature would serve him well, when combined with the proper demeanor. The boy's first tufts of dark brown hair took after his father, except for one shock of white. A father's pride began welling up in him, when suddenly, a thought struck. A dark, traitorous thought, born of a practiced paranoia and a half-remembered description. Bertuccio prepared a charm, something suitably innocuous and intentionally as weak as possible. This called for delicacy, and should be wrong, he would not risk that any harm come to his heir. Moving his finger along the babe's forehead and muttering a short incantation, he waited. Nothing. Nothing!

He almost killed the child then and there. Months of effort, years of planning, all for naught! Ruined by a foul Karsite! And yet, he could not. Catarina had become too attached to the child over the course of the pregnancy, and was far too important to his plans. Yet the stigma of producing a Karsite would destroy him. No one must know. He prepared a second charm, much stronger this time, and stroked the white tuft of hair, dabbed the pale eye. Obscuring these particular features with magic would never last, it was like trying to cover an oiled surface with water. But for a time, at least, the boy's secret would be safe. Which would give Bertuccio more time to lay plans...