"I find the ghosts far easier to deal with than thieves, personally.
- Chao Djimon
History
The Dalvathian diplomat named Szarth Djimon was living an enviable life in the capital, negotiating with foreign emissaries and - as one does in his position - collecting gifts and not-bribes to grease the wheels of bureaucracy, living a bachelor's life despite being courted by more than one prospective spouse from minor noble houses and generally enjoying all the benefits that a man in his position could take advantage of. This made it all the more jarring when someone arrived from the International Citadel, where he'd been stationed for some years earlier in his life, handed him a behorned child and serenely observed that divinations had determined that he was this child's son, before departing.
Szarth looked uncertainly at Chao. Chao looked uncertainly back. Thus, sometimes, do families begin.
To the man's credit he tried his best to be a good father to the son he never knew he had with the woman that he'd had a passionate fling with, which was more than some in his position might do. He made certain Chao got a good education, was clothed and fed to fit his station, spent time with the boy to bond and teach him about the world. He also showed his 'good parenting' off as a way to get laid and took him to drug dens and other places of vice, but that really shouldn't be any surprise to anyone following along with this story.
Chao therefore grew up surrounded by decadence and knowledge, and he embraced both.
Although he never showed any aptitude for actual
spellcraft, he did have an abiding interest in the occult - for reasons of his own - and studied such subjects relentlessly, learning the subtle magic found in everyday objects that could be harnessed and used, the weaknesses of the creatures that were more than mere flesh, curses and blessings anyone could learn with enough time, and other such subjects. A field known to its practitioners as
thaumaturgy.
His father's wealth ensured that he didn't need to get anything so mundane as a job, but he took up writing and authorship as a hobby to fund his studies. One might have suspected that there was something he was trying to learn, some secret or buried knowledge, from the fervor that he sought out such occulted lore.
And then, one day, he was at the hotel.
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