Crixus is an Eladrin swordmage born and raised in Fallcrest. He fell in love with Laelenia the daughter of the Gorthon the patriarch of a rival clan called The Wild Born. After years of proving himself to Gorthon, Crixus was finally given permission to wed Laelenia. They spent several decades together, proving their marital bonds were strong enough to be worthy of earning permission to bear a child. Their parents eventually gave the couple their approval and shortly after a son was born to Crixus and Laelenia. They named their son Evan.
Several years ago Crixus and his family were travelling to Hammerfast. Crixus was in search the finest metal to have a new blade crafted. Along the way they were ambushed by highwaymen. Laelenia and Evan were killed and Crixus was mortally wounded. He lay bleeding along the road for a day and a half. A witch found him bleeding out and made him an offer. She would save his life, tend his wounds, and teach him powerful magic, if only he would agree to grant her one request, whatever it may be, whenever it may be. Taking his last breath he agreed. The witch quickly revived him before he passed from the world and told him that her name was Andromeda the Ignored. She took him to her cottage hidden deep in the Winterbole Forrest where she treated his wounds as promised. Despite his many requests, Andromeda would not tell Crixus anything about herself. When his health restored, Andromeda began teaching Crixus about the occult and arcana.
Crixus struggled to understand Andromeda’s lessons. The occult and arcana seemed counter intuitive to everything Crixus knew. Andromeda nearly gave up teaching Crixus until one day she discovered him practicing his blade arts. She realized that she was speaking the wrong language to Crixus and that he was already practicing magic but that he didn’t realize it. She sat him down and explained through references to his blade arts the mysteries of the arcane. He quickly picked up her teachings and became a powerful combatant, fusing magic and melee. One day she approached Crixus and informed him that she no longer had any teachings left to give him. She told him that he must leave immediately, but that he should finish his journey to Hammerfast and forge the blade he once intended. Before he left, she reminded him of his promise, and Crixus solemnly acknowledged it without words.
Crixus travelled for a long time meditating with nature, discovering nuances of the arcane, and always making progress towards Hammerfast. Eventually he arrived at Hammerfast. After requesting the finest stock to construct his blade, but having turned up short on coin, he negotiated a working contract. Crixus worked tirelessly day and night mining ore in the mines north of Hammerfast to earn his portion of the finest grade of metal. After three years of backbreaking labor he finally earned his reward. The shrewd businessmen of the Hammerfast mines found a deep respect for Crixus. They admired his determination and drive and offered him an additional reward. Crixus respectfully declined. Crixus requested that the Dwarves of Hammerfast mines direct him to the finest weapon smith in all the land. The Dwarves directed him to Hesphestus of the Mountain Godfang. The Dwarves not be refused by Crixus, sent word ahead of Crixus to Hesphestus of the Mountain Goddfang. They requested that Hesphestus not charge Crixus for his smithing but rather, teach Crixus and let him earn the blade.
After travelling for two weeks to the Mountain of Godfang, Crixus finally arrived at the forge of Hesphestus. Crixus offered Hesphestus all of the wealth he possessed in exchange for Hesphestus’ finest work with the metals that Crixus hard mined with his own hands. Hesphestus refused Crixus’ offer. Crixus broken by the thought of not completing his mission, wept at the full moon on the peak of the Mountain Godfang. His weeping could be heard for miles through the valleys of the mountains. Hearing the deep sorrow echoing in his forge, the master smith Hesphestus of the Mountain Godfang ascended to the peak. He put his massive stone hard clutch on the shoulder of Crixus and spoke to him softly. “Friend, I have heard the sorrow of a thousand men echo in my forge, and yet that sorrow is but only one voice. I have heard your tale from the Dwarves of Hammerfast. They told me of the lives stolen from you. They told me of your conviction to mine the ore you brought to me. I refused you because wealth cannot purchase the blade you desire. Only the stink of sweat from brooding anger, the fires that warm the frozen heart of the Mountain Godfang, and the blood of those who wounded you can forge this blade. I cannot craft such a blade. But I will teach you how, and you will craft it. And then you will be my finest work, as you craft a blade of metal I will craft the blade of flesh.” Hearing the words of the great weapon smith, Crixus collected his tears into a vial and sealed it. He said nothing to the smith, and the smith said nothing back. That night, Crixus slept at the peak of the Mountain Godfang. In the morning he returned to the forge.
For three years Hesphestus of the Mountain Godfang tirelessly taught Crixus the art of swordsmithing. Crixus practiced the art his master bestowed unto him day and night, sleeping only one hour a night. Nearing the completion of his blade, Crixus unsealed the vial and poured his tears into the bath in which he used to plunge the blade for hardening. As he stabbed the blade into the dark bath, a howl screamed from the boiling bath, sounding much like that of his weeping from so many years past. The master weapon smith Hesphestus bearing witness to the completion of his blade of flesh, and witnessing the otherworldly eeriness of the howl of the blade, began silently weeping. Crixus turned to his master teacher and smiled deeply. He spoke softly to his teacher, “The blade has spoken to me, It’s name is Deliverance the Hungry one.” The teacher nodded, “Indeed, a birth cry unmistakable. Now you must nourish it with the blood of those who wounded you.” Once again, Crixus slept under under a full moon on the peak of the Mountain Godfang. That night he and Deliverance bonded. Crixus made a solemn pact to the blade and the blade replied with a promise of its own. In the morning Crixus returned to the forge to say goodbye to his teacher. Hesphestus of the Mountain Godfang made only one request before Crixus departed. He asked that Crixus return to the forge after feeding the blade completing the ritual with the blade. He thanked his teacher and set off.
Crixus returned to Fallcrest and began searching for any information about the murderers of his family. After three years of hunting down dark dead end alleys, bribes, and numerous traps, Crixus finally found enough information to track down his prey. As if by fate, the murderous highwaymen that killed Crixus’ family were said to be preying on victims near the same spot where they killed Crixus’ family. Crixus disguised himself as a helpless old man, leaning on Deliverance the Hungry One as though the magnifiscent blade were a crutch, the blade playing tricks on the eyes resembling a feeble old cane. The group of men sprung themselves on Crixus. Crixus waited until he was certain they were his killers. He saw around the neck of one of the men the necklace he had given his son Evan. At the sight of the glimmer of of the golden chain, Crixus threw off his disguise. The men snarled at him taunting him. Crixus smiled deeply and said queitly to the highwaymen, “I have worked three years mining the metal of this blade. I have worked three years forging the body of this blade. And I have hunted you for three years. Today I kill you in a duration of time unfairly matched to my dedication to this moment. But my friend and I will rejoice nonetheless.” Crixus began his assault and for the first time in the life of the blade, Crixus channeled the arcane powers that Andromeda the Ignored had taught him. As the arcane forces passed through the blade, the blade called Deliverance responded to the arcane powers, contributing to the mystical powers. A hellish fire erupted complimenting the razor sharpness of the blade. The gang of five highwaymen lay dead and dying before Crixus and his friend. The blade was finally awoken and complete.
The last living of the highwaymen cackled, choking on his blood. He spit blood into Crixus’ face, the stench of burnt flesh stung Crixus nose. The man spoke his last words in a sinister laugh. “You spent countless years plotting your revenge for your stupid whore wife and your flower of a son. And yet you couldn’t even finish the job properly.” He laughed and choked until the life escaped his lungs.
Baffled by the snide comment of the highwayman, Crixus kneeled over his corpse in bewilderment. His confusion was interrupted by a voice cutting through the silence. “I think what he meant was that there is another still living, that you haven’t finished the job yet.” Surprised by the revelation and the voice, Crixus turned immediately to see the face of the voice. The only thing he saw however, was the charred and maimed corpses of the highwaymen strewn about, and a crow plucking out of the highwayman’s eyes. Crixus laughed and spoke to Deliverance, “I must have lost my mind on my journey of vengeance.” Then the crow swallowed the eye and looked right at Crixus. It cawed hysterically like a witch cackling. Then it spoke to Crixus, “You are not crazy friend. I am the one who spoke to you. I am Eliminster Nighfeather. The way I see it, you are fragmented. You need me to be your eyes, and the blade to be your will. So what do you say friend? Do you have room for one more mouth?” Crixus laughed deeply, until his stomach hurt. “Alright Eliminster Nightfeather, you can be my eyes but I think that I’ll still keep my true eyes.”
Keeping his promise to his second teacher, he travelled beyond Hammerfast to the far North, to the Mountain Godfang. When he arrived his teacher Hesphestus looked and spoke at him sternly. “I hope that you have come to show me how the student has become the master.” Then he smiled at Crixus and said, “Well hurry up then, let me see your beautiful work.” Crixus slowly unsheathed Deliverance. The bloodmarks glimmered like rubies in the sunlight. Hesphestus of the Mountain Godfang gasped in awe of the blade. “You have learned well my son, Crixus the Blade Whisperer.” Hesphestus’ admiration for the blade was quickly interrupted by a cackle from Eliminster. “When are you going to invite us in for food?” Hesphestus was befuddled, with indignation, “If you’re not careful we’ll be having you for lunch Mr. Chicken.” To which Eliminster cawed in embarrassment. Crixus apologized for the poor manners of his new companion and the three had lunch together.
Over lunch Hesphestus asked Crixus about his pilgrimage of death and about his plans for the future. Crixus told his teacher that he planned to hunt down the last of the highwaymen, bringing swift punishment to the man who killed his family. He also confessed to his teacher about his studies with the witch and his education into the arcane arts. He told his teacher he planned to journey to the ends of the earth in search of magic that would reverse time, so that he could save his family. The teacher thought long about the words his student spoke. Then he retorted to his student, “if such magic exists, it will not have the effect you so desire. If you change the past then you alter the future. If your family is not killed, then you will not return to the past to save them. There is no changing their fate. You need magic that can bring life where there was once death.”