The Cultists - Part 2 (and 3?) (Patreon)

Are you ready for Cultist number 2 (and 3)? Hold on to your purity seals, because this one is... well, I'll let you decide for yourself.

KRISTOFF
Highwayman
Kristoffer Hetfej was born deep in the Bleak Moors of central Ostermarker. His parents worked in The Nobody Inn, an isolated and heavily fortified coaching inn some twenty miles outside Volengen. Kristoffer grew up tending horses and fearing his father's belt. Perhaps because of this, the young Kristoffer often fled into the windswept moors surrounding the inn. There he built damns in streams, threw rocks at small animals, and explored every nook and cranny he discovered. Soon, he was more comfortable in the haunted wilds than he was at home.

At age 15, Kristoff was caught stealing a horse. He often did this in the dark of night in order to explore farther into the moors, but this was the first time he'd been caught. His father's wrath knew few limits. Kristoff was lashed until his screams flowed more freely than his blood. This was enough to satisfy the wronged patron whose horse had been stolen. It also ensured the innkeeper did not to banish Kristoff's family. It wasn't the first time Kristoff had been beaten within an inch of greeting Morr at His portal, but the wounds, this time, were much more severe.

Months later, and the many lacerations on Kristoff's behind were still not fully healed. And they itched terribly. So Kristoff picked. Kristoff had slipped into a cycle of itching, picking, and healing. It was so bad that Kristoff's mother stopped tending the sores after the first months passed. Instead, she just yelled 'stop picking!' at her son on a daily basis. 

Not long after his seventeenth birthday passed, Kristoff woke up feeling extremely disoriented. It was like he was half-blind, but also not, and his unhealed wounds were in agony. Confused and unsure, the young man tried to stand but instead sprawled to the floor as dizziness and nausea washed over him. Summoned by the racket, Kristoff's mother immediately tell that her youngest boy was very sick, so she sent her eldest to bring Matushka Shevchenko, a herbalist of repute in the local area, and a frequent tender to Krostoff's unhealing wounds.

As Kristoff waited in the hay loft, he slowly came to understand what was happening. Somehow, he could now 'see' from more than one place: his normal eyes, and also from... somewhere else. After much panicked probing, he came to realise he could also dimly see from one of his unhealing wounds.

Kristof panicked. Matushka often said his wounds seemed cursed. And his father would definitely beat him again if he found out.

So, that night, Kristoff stole food from the inn and fled into the moors he knew so well. When Matushka Shevchenko arrived the following morning, Kristoff was long gone.

Over the next year, Kristoff eeked a simple life in the wilds, hunting bog creatures, avoiding haunted ruins, and steering clear of bandits and monsters. As each week passed, his 'wound' grew worse. What started as weak sight developed into two budding eyes. Then three. Boney swellings and vestigial limbs followed, and by the third month, the swelling was as large as a head. By the fourth month. It had grown arms. Four of them. Then legs. Then discrete head-like blobs.

Sometimes the writhing growths caused Kristoff agony. Sometimes he barely felt them at all. But they were always growing, always there, and always felt. Their growth also left him ravenously hungry.

A year after the first eye had manifested, the horrible growths were as large Kristoff himself and had working limbs that Kristoff could use, working eyes allowing him to see in all directions, and working legs that gave him the most ungainly gait. He was a horror to behold, and Kristoff was ready never to meet another human again.

Then, all of a sudden on a night of excruciating pain, the growths sloughed free. The mess of legs, arms, eyes, and hair tore away from Kristoff's body. But, horrendously, Kristoff could still feel everything the mass felt, as if those external parts were still somehow a part of him even though they were no longer attached. Kristoff felt all of this, and in little time his mind was as fractured as his body.

As the wounds where the growths had fallen from slowly healed, the horrendous blob of limbs, hair, and flesh split again, this time forming two external growths, each feeding sensory input into Kristoff's one mind. And, like him, they had mouths, and they were hungry, so Kristoff set to feeding them.

Two months later, and the pair of growths had grown and unfolded into identical replicas of Kristoff himself. Somehow, he was now three bodies but with one mind. Over a year of horror and seemingly ended with an almost acceptable end, and one that brought many unexpected benefits. 

At the very least it made hunting much easier, even if there were now three mouths to feed.

Kristoff grew more confident as the months passed. He looked normal again. All three of him. After more than a year of isolation, he could return to a semblance of a normal life.

To fund that, Kristoff took to banditry on the roads, using his multiple points of view to execute his crimes with efficiency. With three bodies, it was easy to pilfer from camps, avoid dangerous travellers, and keep ahead of the law. In time, he grew bolder, and took to highway robbery. His years of working with horses paid off, and soon all three of him were skilled mounted robbers.

As stories of Kristoff's crimes grew, the triplet drifted north to keep ahead of the roadwardens and to prey upon the richer Kislev/Ostermark border where affluent merchants travelled to the local capital of Bechafen.

Kristoff also returned to civilisation frequently, attending towns and villages to spend his ill-gotten gains. To cover his tracks, he referred to each of this three bodies with three different names - Kit, Reese, and Toffer. Usually he only sent one of his bodies into town, leaving the others to watch out for incoming danger.

After several months as a successful highwayman, Kristoff's notoriety resulted in fame of the wrong kind. A rota of Kossar mercenaries was hired to end his crime spree by a furious Kislevite merchant. Kristof, in his youthful arrogance, wasn't particularly careful in covering his activities, so was soon tracked down in the Shirokij Forest. With baying hounds on his heels, Kristoff split in three directions to best shake off his pursuers.

Unfortunately, one of his bodies was captured.

Then tortured.

This caused Kristoff's two other bodies to collapse in agony. When Kristoff came to, he had only two bodies remaining. Worse, Kristoff couldn't quite remember what had happened. It was as if a third of his mind had simply vanished. He couldn't even remember his father's name. Or if he had siblings.

Although no less intelligent than he was before, the loss of his memories left Kristoff unstable and paranoid. Terrified of what the Kislevites may have uncovered from his forgotten third body, Kristoff immediately fled the area, never to return again.

It was two months later, on the border of Ostermark and Ostland, that he met Luminata.

So, yes, Kristoffer is a Mutant Highwayman with an identical clone of himself (the mutation we rolled). So, two PCs for the price of one! Fun! This means he is effectively the cell's spy and information gatherer - he has twice the senses of everyone else, after all!

Next, we meet the third of our Cultists, Luminata. She's another Ostermarker. She was raised by an isolated sect of Morrians, and they were... well, you'll see soon. Her background is, if anything, even more horrific than Kristoff's.

Living in the Empire is tough, eh?