Alastair always knew his station in the world. Ever since a he was a little boy, growing up in the orphanage run by the kind priestesses of Eldath, who always tried to install a sense of goodness, community and humility to the children they cared for. Alastair always knew he was better. He found himself always at odds with the priestesses for being a class clown, acting up and stirring up the other children. He always felt trapped and made sure that his jailers suffered. It was no wonder, when he ran away with nothing but a flute, they didn’t look too hard to find him.
Growing up on the streets didn’t rid him of that notion, however the notion of him one day being a star and a performer did. Occasional beatings, fights for food and busking for coppers with mildewed instruments will do that. Certainly he was talented, but poor and lacking the “quality” required to play for finer and people. It didn’t help that his clothes and instruments were 1 strong breee from being destroyed. So when recruiters of the Val Dolodid army came by offering 10gp for just signing up against the war against Eribourne, he took the gold. He was too good for the streets anyway.
The 10gp didn’t last long. What with deductions for uniform, weapons, supplies to maintain those weapons and uniforms and food, Alastair found himself a different sort of trapped. That’s not to say he didn’t fully enjoy it, scrapping, comradery, travelling, learning, training and light adventuring did him a lot of good. Plus pocketing a few goodies here and there was hardly bad. He met more people than he has ever seen before, learned new stories and found the uniform actually suited him. He liked being the unofficial leader of his little group in the ranks and the best entertainer in the troop. But he didn’t like the rules, order and, worst of all, the idiots in charge. So as is his nature, he challenged them at every turn. Now unlike the orphanage he found the army, particularly his CO, Major Vörös Kornél, was less forgiving and more sadistic with him. So he learned subtlety, ways to do what he wanted without being caught. That doesn’t necessarily meant he wasn’t punished, flogging scars on his back and the suicide missions his went on prove that, but he was never caught.
But then the war ended, his long running game of cat and mouse against Kornél was over. and he, thousands of soldiers and two nations had to find a new way to live. He thought he was too good for them anyway. He didn’t go back to the streets, he found he had more opportunities than before (and he had been lining his pockets with earned loot) he could keep his instruments moss free and always find work with his former comrades. But guarding merchants and politicians without purpose with a bunch of bored and boring soldiers, in the same place day after day, dim. Alastair found himself wondering town to town, working odd jobs to refill his purse, doing odder things to empty it again and generally exploring the world to see if its good enough for his time.
It was by chance he came across Ick ghastly and the late Chandler von Bung-Winklederry the second. An old legendary goth bard tiefling manager and his newest client a spoiled, blue-blooded, bardic collage graduate hack of a “artist”, who thanks to a wolf pack had been hacked to death. Alastair saved Ick (not mentioning that he too could not outrun the wolves .) Ick however was furious. The old rocker recently only just got back in the game and was hoping to ride off Chandler who’s rich grandmother praised him to all the nobles of the land after paying his tuition and lifestyle and even set up a stream of very profitable shows, basically doing Icks job for him. The upcoming chain of events would make Ick a small fortune. Alastair was roughly the same age and build of Chandler and could play tune. So a plan was formed leading to the most successful scam both have ever pulled off.
Alastair, under Ick’s tutelage discovered himself learning more than ever before, not just about music, but performance, art, high society, literature, disguises and more. At the first event he almost shat himself, but soon discovered that rich people couldn’t tell your quality at all so long as you pretended to be overpriced and acted like you belonged. That his natural charisma and his teachings led him to playing for Lords, liaising with glamorous Ladies and occasionally gaining treasures for both. It was OK he supposed. That streak of luck and high life ended however. They always thought the game would stop once they meet someone who really knew chandler. It would probably result in a fun chase and they take up a new line of work. They weren’t expecting anybody to recognise him. He performed for a new Lord, given title due to his time in the war, his old nemesis Vörös Kornél. Kornél however was impressed. And smug, lets never forget the smugness. He thought an entertainer of Alastair abilities and Chandlers budding reputation would be useful for a little project of his, gathering information against enemies of the crown. Alastair was forced to become a spy otherwise he and Ick would be no more
Well lets just say after many successful and daring missions he got caught. Not spying. But in bed with someone he shouldn’t be with. Then searching his stuff they found reason to believe he was a spy. He remembers the night before his execution very well. Stripped of his instruments and wealth (that which he didn’t stash away) tapping a stick against the jail bars, much to a guards annoyance, and thinking to himself of a wasted life he had. And how annoying it was the world never gave him the chance he deserved. To show his talent, his potential or to do something meaningful. He began thinking through his life, the best parts but mostly the worst and couldn’t help think that maybe he was in the wrong the whole time. That maybe he should’ve tried to be kinder, more humble and give life a chance. Thats when the arm jutted out of the wall and grabbed him…..
The charlatan, spy and delinquent known by the alias Chandler von Bung-Winklederry the second was led to a gallow on a stage pushed into the noose. Alastair was watching with absolute bewilderment from a good distance next to a weird looking humanoid who currently was failing to hold in his laughter. “They….thi…think you’re going to be executed!” blundered the weird looking creature. Alastair was confused enough with the illusion, being free, but being rescued by this weird thing… for a joke?! It was too weird and too…. brilliant an opportunity! “You think its funny now, i can make it better, can you get it to talk?” So the tale goes that Chandler cursed the lordship and warned that any who tried to harm him would be touched by the arcane fires held within him. His souls will be released and he will return stronger and full of vengeance. The executioner heard this stuff before and was unmoved. So when he pulled the lever and the pyrotechnics set off, he was extra confused…also the blindness may of done that. The body was never found. So the tale of Chandler ended in a stupid, bright and entertaining way. And the legendary duo of the thing that became known as Clickery Trelic and Alastair began.
Alastair made sure Ick was safe and alone before returning and letting him know he was ok. He also needed Ick alone to help him make a new false identity, Mike Hawk and help spread the word. He knows the perils of overdoing a part, but also knows how useful it can be.