Amber: Rise Up
Eshkaz the Old
Old, somewhat crazy fella
Endurance: 33 (3rd)
Talents, skills, etc.: unknown
Eshkaz has, to surface appearances, completely adjusted to life in Amber. As soon as he could, he doffed his rough robe and obtained normal, noble clothing which he then wore with no further consciousness. He is comfortable in all settings but you rarely see him heft a weapon even for sport and he is very careful not to give offense and sufficiently genuine in his gentleness that few will have cause to heft one against him.
He appears to be quite familiar with courtliness, but of a variety quite different from the Amber standard. He has freely explained to all that he had had, from time to time, positions of some official and unofficial importance (e.g. Head Magister of Soulcraft) in a small shadow that one might have expected to be from nearer to Chaos from his description of wandering suns on the Tracks of the Winds, animated gargoyles (he listened with interest to Nadine’s tale of the Kakrux), manipulation of demon-taint and god-scent by practitioners of the “lesser arts”, and manipulation of soul-stuff by practioners of the “greater art”. He is extremely interested in how these arts relate to magic in the multiverse and spends hours talking to anyone who will indulge him in discussion of the mathematics of temporal transference of the force of the soul (which he insists is possible), psionic amplification, and multi-versic metaphysics.
Probably the more grounded folks would conclude he is insane.
The coming of the Black Road he says happened in his world a long time ago, when he lived in an, apparently, multiversic empire that was completely wiped out by the demons, except for those that crawled into a hole and pulled the hole in after them. He is quite upfront about the fact that it was “probably a thousand years” between the coming of the demons about a decade after he was born and the terrible storm that suddenly wiped out the little world that the remnants of empire had lived in for so long.
When asked about his birth, upbringing, or much of anything about the Empire, he avoids answering however seems best—if a joke is called for, he merely replies that he “cannot remember anything that happened so long ago”. In more serious contexts, he looks uncomfortable, but still insists that he has “blank spots” that walking the Pattern did not fix, the result of some sort of accident which he also does not remember but can merely infer the existence of. When pressed further, he starts talking about the difficulty of “translation equations”. The overall impression, for anyone with any perceptivity, is that he himself would rather not think about it. Nevertheless, he occasionally pulls out an unprompted tale of his apprenticeship when over his cups—something banal about stealing a chalice from a chapel or being the only one who never got a cold—but he always catches himself in surprise somewhere in the middle of the story and rushes to the end.
He enjoys wine, women, song, and other entertainments when they are on offer but does not seek them out.