From when he was a child – Serran thought his destiny was to follow in the footsteps of his father: the life of an Erdrydion cleric was one of stability in a world of chaos and uncertainty. So like a good child, Serran would receipt his prayers, learn his scripture and attend study classes in the village abby every night. At the age of thirteen, his family would be called to Velandria, his father to be the head of the clergy at the new cathedral that had been finished there. It was barely two weeks on the road when rain had forced his family to take shelter in a nearby cave along the Vunderwahl Range. Unbeknownst to his father, the cave was the entrance of a Beholder’s lair. The monstrous beast appeared before the family, casting a beam unto Serran that saw him blinded, only the screams of his father and mother could be faintly heard as his consciousness faded. Weeks later he awoke within the enormous temple they had set out for as their new home. Little memory of the events remained in his mind, though the travellers that found him said his parents were turned to stone, their bodies crumbled and broken.
Grief took Serran for months, no longer did he pray nor do any of what he had done in the past to prepare for his life as part of the clergy. It was not long until he fell into the wrong crowd on one of his nightly walks, being coaxed to joining a small street gang that called itself “The Dirty Dirks.” There his prayers turned to Markamin the Trickster, so that his illegal foils would always go unnoticed. The clergy of Erdrydion were not ignorant to Serran’s failing ways, trying time and time again to bring the wayward soul back to the flock, though it was no use. Serran’s age and time with the dirks saw his heart grow apart from the life his father set out for him. Nights were filled with petty crimes and his sleeps were filled with nightmares of the night his parents passed, the menacing smile of The Beholder forever etched in his mind.
It was only when Serran made his first kill at the age of sixteen that he realised the significance of these dreams: a poor stableboy checking in on the whinnying horses was run through by Serran’s dagger in shock and fear. As the boy grasped Serran’s tunic, tears rolled down the fallen thief’s face, though in his mind was a voice not his own, “better him than you,” the voice cackled. Over the years the voice grew more and more vocal, until Serran eventually concluded the voice to be that of The Beholder, who now held a link in his mind he had no love for. Though for years he tried to drown it out with alcohol, drugs and experimental magics, nothing worked – the voice taunting him each time he tried. So he learnt to eventually live with it, and that was when he unlocked its true powers – gaining the beholders powers temporarily for himself, which would greatly aid in his work. Though by this point the dirks were already long behind him, and for three years he had worked as a basic specialist within The Golden Griffins for freelance assignments. The Liturium War begun shortly after he was gifted his powers, and his newfound abilities shot him through the ranks to Crimson Shadow – one of the highest Assassin ranks before being weighed down with the bureaucracy of an officer position.