Esteem
Artificer, Gunsmith specialization
Vanus Pryce (a.k.a. Esteem)
Physical Description
Identifying Characteristics
Varies depending on current identity.
His fondest name, and his favorite identity: Esteem is a wanderer, a gambler, and a sightseer. He's relaxed and able to roll with the punches, both figuratively and literally. Financially destitute, eternally in-debt; he goes where he pleases and uses what he likes. A charming tiefling with sporadic magic and a rifle. His eyes are pink, his horns are a shapely wave, and aside from the faint iridescent glow to his leathery skin there are no distinct markings to be seen. He's taller by at least a foot, with a dusting of scruff on his chin. The occasional soft whirr of gears on his back are easily missed when he has his wings stretched. Not a holy man, but not a heathen. Not a wallflower but not a sore thumb. Interesting enough to be invited along but not enough to warrant prying.
Easy. Safe. Calm.
Pryce is dark-skinned human woman of average height, shape, and looks, unassuming and kind. She keeps her dreads pulled out of her face, decorates herself in doilies and patterned bandannas. Her round glasses make her pink eyes look huge and bright, crows feet at each corner from a lifetime of smiling. She's shapely for someone her age and has entertained a suitor or two before but finding love is something blessed on you by the gods. She owns a travelling food cart that runs purely on donation. The mother of a troublesome boy, long-suffering but loving. Her pet bat grants her company and protection, since sometimes people get a little ornery about her boy's debt. He's got a gambling problem, she knows, but what's a mama to do all on her lonesome except worry and hope that her sweetheart comes home safe?
Soft. Comforting. Kind.
Vanus is exceedingly small in every way. Their horns are a small crown made of gold around their head, just big enough to poke through the mop of black curls and short dreads. Their eyes are black, truly demonic, and their skin shimmers purple-red. Around their eyes and dotting their forehead are gold-pink markings, and tucked into the corners of their lips are the beginnings of stitches that extend two inches into their round cheeks. Cursed with a natural babyface, they look like they're only 15 despite being nearly 4 years older. They're a perfectly trained chameleon with both no capacity for betrayal and the limitless potential of it.
Empty. Malleable. Void.
Esteem
Easy. Safe. Calm.
Pryce
Soft. Comforting. Kind.
Vanus
Empty. Malleable. Void.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
His mother, a succubus, was forced to birth him due to a deal but refused to give him to the contracted donor or raise him herself. As such, he was born on the streets, with no knowledge of his family. An old hermit found him while scavenging and attempted to raise him, though the result was a bit lacking. He was 4 when the hermit died. The old man left him with more bullshit than actual wisdom-- and not even a name to go by-- but he made due. Left to his own devices, he used his quick hands and gift of gab to pickpocket and run small cons in the back alleys of the city. He was a natural at scamming away coin and sweet-talking his way into homes.
Eventually, he talked his way into the home of a man who ultimately changed his life. At the time, he didn't realize that he himself had been the target. It wasn't until he'd entered the man's house that he noticed the lack of any other doors or windows, and by then the way he'd come in, his sole way out, was locked tight. Rather than being murdered or raped, he was offered an apprenticeship. Study under one of the most notorious con-artist in the country, or die. Not much of a choice, but it's not like Esteem had much to refuse for anyway.
For the next ten years, he learned the art of grifting. He stayed in a shitty little shed on his extremely wealthy mentor's property and presented himself in public like a king.
It was during this time that he was given a name-- it was the first of many, and became the last he'd ever let leave his lips. There were plenty of pet names, of course. "Empty," his mentor had said once. "Nothing," he'd call as a summons. "Void," was another title. He always sounded so fond, looked so pleased, when his names garnered little more than a slightly crooked smile. And he wasn't wrong to be. No goals, no motivations, no aspirations, no connections, no moral misgivings-- he was perfectly malleable in every way. The nothing that could become anything.
Along with his name came his final test: to out-con a conman. His mentor's rival had been training a successor as well, and it was Vanus's job to either destroy their chance at a future or consume their power for himself. If he succeeded, the rewards would be unfathomable. If he failed, death would be a kindness. Rather than go the route of violence, Vanus took a more prolonged approach. He met with his target, spoke to her, and kickstarted their relationship by outing himself as a fraud. It was the first time he'd ever laid his cards out on the table. She, in turn, shared hers. For three years, the two of them danced around each other, knowing full well what the other was trying to do but treating the conning contest as a game. They would take turns grifting one another, lying just to see if they'd catch it or letting themselves fall into traps to see if they could weasel free. It was, despite the stakes, only ever in good fun. They were rivals, yes, but they were also the closest thing to friendship either had ever experienced. It didn't come as a surprise to either of them when they inevitably came to realize that they'd fallen in love. One of them giving up so they other could win was too lopsided and untrustworthy of a plan for two liars to pull off, however, so they came up with a compromise to instead bite the hands that fed them.
They spent the next year working together in secret to set up their grand heist. It wasn't easy, but the reward seemed worth the risk. After all, they couldn't just stop being grifters or leave without making sure the powerful people who trained them were left with no weapons to point in their direction. They had a plan, a back-up plan, a back-up plan for that back-up plan, and even two different escape routes readied by the time they both crested their eighteenth birthday. They would rob their mentors blind and then run away to start somewhere new.
Unfortunately, as with all gifted children used to success, when failure finally comes to roost it has a tendency to destroy the entire nest.
The plan went off without a hitch. That is to say, her plan. In the end, the one left staring down the barrel of the gun was Vanus alone while she seated herself on the throne.
"It's nothing personal," she'd said, as genuinely apologetic as a liar could ever be. "But I'm not like you. I can't throw it all away for nothing."
She'd been kind enough in his complete destruction to keep his mentor busy and the escape routes clear. He left his name with her and slipped away easily at the city's border.
Eventually, he talked his way into the home of a man who ultimately changed his life. At the time, he didn't realize that he himself had been the target. It wasn't until he'd entered the man's house that he noticed the lack of any other doors or windows, and by then the way he'd come in, his sole way out, was locked tight. Rather than being murdered or raped, he was offered an apprenticeship. Study under one of the most notorious con-artist in the country, or die. Not much of a choice, but it's not like Esteem had much to refuse for anyway.
For the next ten years, he learned the art of grifting. He stayed in a shitty little shed on his extremely wealthy mentor's property and presented himself in public like a king.
It was during this time that he was given a name-- it was the first of many, and became the last he'd ever let leave his lips. There were plenty of pet names, of course. "Empty," his mentor had said once. "Nothing," he'd call as a summons. "Void," was another title. He always sounded so fond, looked so pleased, when his names garnered little more than a slightly crooked smile. And he wasn't wrong to be. No goals, no motivations, no aspirations, no connections, no moral misgivings-- he was perfectly malleable in every way. The nothing that could become anything.
Along with his name came his final test: to out-con a conman. His mentor's rival had been training a successor as well, and it was Vanus's job to either destroy their chance at a future or consume their power for himself. If he succeeded, the rewards would be unfathomable. If he failed, death would be a kindness. Rather than go the route of violence, Vanus took a more prolonged approach. He met with his target, spoke to her, and kickstarted their relationship by outing himself as a fraud. It was the first time he'd ever laid his cards out on the table. She, in turn, shared hers. For three years, the two of them danced around each other, knowing full well what the other was trying to do but treating the conning contest as a game. They would take turns grifting one another, lying just to see if they'd catch it or letting themselves fall into traps to see if they could weasel free. It was, despite the stakes, only ever in good fun. They were rivals, yes, but they were also the closest thing to friendship either had ever experienced. It didn't come as a surprise to either of them when they inevitably came to realize that they'd fallen in love. One of them giving up so they other could win was too lopsided and untrustworthy of a plan for two liars to pull off, however, so they came up with a compromise to instead bite the hands that fed them.
They spent the next year working together in secret to set up their grand heist. It wasn't easy, but the reward seemed worth the risk. After all, they couldn't just stop being grifters or leave without making sure the powerful people who trained them were left with no weapons to point in their direction. They had a plan, a back-up plan, a back-up plan for that back-up plan, and even two different escape routes readied by the time they both crested their eighteenth birthday. They would rob their mentors blind and then run away to start somewhere new.
Unfortunately, as with all gifted children used to success, when failure finally comes to roost it has a tendency to destroy the entire nest.
The plan went off without a hitch. That is to say, her plan. In the end, the one left staring down the barrel of the gun was Vanus alone while she seated herself on the throne.
"It's nothing personal," she'd said, as genuinely apologetic as a liar could ever be. "But I'm not like you. I can't throw it all away for nothing."
She'd been kind enough in his complete destruction to keep his mentor busy and the escape routes clear. He left his name with her and slipped away easily at the city's border.
Gender Identity
E: Male; he/him
P: Female; she/her
V: Agender; any pronouns
P: Female; she/her
V: Agender; any pronouns
Sexuality
Bisexual
Personality Characteristics
Likes & Dislikes
Cooking
Social
Speech
Esteem: Australian accent
Pryce: Southern-belle accent
Vanus: Cockney accent
Pryce: Southern-belle accent
Vanus: Cockney accent
Alignment
True Neutral
Species
Circumstances of Birth
Born as a result of extensive succubi visitation
Spouses
Siblings
Children
Eyes
Esteem: Pink sclera, white pupils
Pryce: Pink pupils
Vanus: black sclera no pupils
Pryce: Pink pupils
Vanus: black sclera no pupils
Hair
Black dreads
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Dark pink
Height
E: 6' (2" horns)
P: 5'5"
V:5' (2" horns)
P: 5'5"
V:5' (2" horns)
Aligned Organization
Related Myths
Comments