Cancer backstory

Orryn Clovercliff was born in an unremarkable house, to two unremarkable parents, in the city of Rockwater (I didn't choose the name, GM did). His first hundred years were spent in extreme mundanity. He had a few friends, a few lovers, a few jobs, though none seemed to stick for more than a few months. In that time, he had just one thing that seemed to persist, his penchant for gambling. This penchant could be more aptly described as a vice, for he rarely ever won, though he dreamt of the day he would win big. If only he could win a jackpot and have some security. Many nights he would lose all his money and have to beg the local innkeepers for a bed and a meal just to get by. Sometimes he even resorted to lowly thievery to make ends meet. He tried to never steal from the destitute. Most innkeepers would shoo him away, but there was one who would show him some kindness and let him stay in a room that wasn’t booked that night, or would give him a plate of leftovers. His name was Boris.
Boris’s tavern was cheap and ugly, but always had customers. Boris openly touted “I don’t care if you’re a thief or a murderer, just don’t do any of it in here.” And for the most part, people respected that. That tavern was the closest thing Orryn had to a home in his early years, and Boris, the closest thing to a friend. Boris wasn’t very polite, and could never be described as nice, but seemed to have a soft spot for Orryn. Whenever Orryn came in after a night of gambling, penniless, Boris would joke “you know Orryn, one day your luck is going to run out” to which Orryn would reply “well it can’t run out if I never had any to begin with”.
Then one day, the unthinkable happened: Orryn won big. He won 107 gold pieces. Orryn knew with proper budgeting and rationing, this could sustain him for months, even years. So the first thing he did was spent about a third of it in a night buying rounds of drinks for strangers, trying fancy exotic foods, meeting new people, and for a night he was anything but unremarkable. The next morning he woke up hungover and expected to feel happy, but there was no happiness. He got what he always dreamt of, enough money to have some fun, and enough left over to have some security, but he still felt empty. Is this what it felt like to achieve one’s dreams?
In a moment of frustration and aimlessness, he saw a fortune teller’s shop and entered on a whim. He asked the young lady inside what his purpose was; What his fate held. She gazed into her crystal ball for a moment, then looked up to Orryn. “I don’t see anything… even when the read is difficult, it seems blurry or distant, but for you I simply see nothing.”
Orryn stomped out of the shop convinced he had been scammed, but for some reason he wanted a second opinion. Surprisingly, the next fortune teller he visited told him the same. “it’s not like the words are smudged, it’s like there are no words at all, there isn’t even a page.”
Orryn was not satisfied with that at all, he needed to know more. He went to nearly every fortune teller in the city and didn’t find any answers. He had spent most of his remaining gold paying the fortune tellers’ fees and had nothing to show for it. He finally took his last 20 gold and visited the most renowned fortune teller in the city. He knocked on the door and it surprisingly opened mere milliseconds after Orryn knocked. In the doorway stood an old dwarf. Orryn entered and eagerly handed over the last of his wealth to the dwarf.
The dwarf took his time, explaining “A proper reading takes as much time as it takes.” After a few hours of fortune cards, crystal balls, and other divination techniques, the dwarf told Orryn he had completed the process; But to Orryn’s dismay, the dwarf said he could not find anything. As Orryn began to leave the dwarf said “BUT! Just because there is nothing to see, doesn’t mean there is nothing to learn. If you were meant to have a mundane and unremarkable life, the reading would show that clear as day. No, this means great events will surround your life, and your decisions could have lasting influence. Take heed, think about your actions, they may not be as minor as you think.”
The dwarf’s words only served to stoke Orryn’s curiosity, rather than extinguishing it. He knew what he wanted to do, but now he was broke. He ran to Boris’s tavern and burst through the front door. A surprised Boris said with a smirk on his face “Finally got yourself into some gambling trouble eh? I told you your luck would run out.”
“No!” replied Orryn, “Can I have a job?”
Boris responded by laughing, and then realized, “Wait you’re serious?... Well okay, but this is my livelihood, this is how I feed my wife and daughter. I won’t have any nonsense; No thieving, no gambling, no nothing. Got it?”
Orryn heartily accepted and began work. He was paid in silvers, and lived off the same leftovers and unbooked rooms as before, but he didn’t care, he had a mission. He worked a lot of the time, but when he had free time he took his meager earnings and spent it on library entrance fees and books. He studied star charts, and tarot cards, palm reading techniques, and every other divination tool or text he could find. He was determined to find out his own fate. He became a regular at city library and all the local book stores, constantly stopping in and asking about new publishing or shipments. He even began practicing basic arcane rituals and spells from what he studied, focusing on what he needed to advance his divination techniques.
After a year and a half, he starting offering patrons of Boris’s tavern free fortune tellings to practice his skills. Boris didn’t believe a word of the fate or fortune babble, but he couldn’t deny that it drummed up business, so he allowed it. Eventually, Orryn even earned himself a nickname, The Poor Oracle. After a time, he developed a few regulars who swore by him and his techniques.
On one busy night Boris remarked “Orryn you could make a living out of this if you wanted to. I have to say I’m impressed, you’ve changed a lot.”
“I have you to thank” responded Orryn “If you hadn’t helped me out, I likely would’ve starved. You should let me return the favor, I’ll read your fortune for you, no charge of course.”
“No, no, I know my fate, its right here in this tavern, providing for my wife and little girl. Any other fate I reject and choose this one instead.” He said with a slight chuckle.
Orryn then asked more seriously “Why did you help me anyway? Most people would’ve kicked me out. Most people did.”
Boris’s expression changed, “You remind me of someone from long ago.” Boris then disengaged the conversation and got back to work.
Orryn continued to study and learn and became quite a proficient diviner, but one thing still plagued him. His own fate was still a mystery. He found the same thing as all other fortune tellers, there simply seemed to be no clues about what his future might hold. He had to continue his studies until it became more clear. After another year, he had read almost every book he had at his disposal and his arcane capabilities were growing substantially. Simple spells had become rote and he began working on some advanced magical rituals. He worked hard and was a quick learner, but never faltered in his tavern duties either.
One stormy night, for no reason in particular, Orryn decided to ask Boris about having his fortune told again. Again Boris declined, but this time Orryn persisted. Finally, Boris shrugged and said “if it’ll appease you, I don’t see why not.”
Orryn employed a simple crystal ball technique, and Orryn got the clearest message he had ever received during a fortune telling: Boris was going to be killed that night. He saw it all happen in the clouds of the crystal. A patron in a green jacket would pull a knife and stab Boris over a minor billing dispute, killing him. Orryn froze, he knew the stories. It’s impossible to avert fate, especially by trying to intervene. He thought of Boris, and then of Boris’s family, who would have nothing if Boris were killed.
He looked around the room and saw the man in the green jacket. He panicked and told Boris he would be right back, that he had forgotten something in his room. In reality, he hid and used his short stature to spy on the man in the green jacket. He saw the knife from his premonition in the man’s back pocket. He snuck over and attempted to pickpocket the dagger. As he grabbed it, the man noticed, but Orryn did gain possession. The man was furious and swung low at Orryn. In a hectic flurry of motion the tussle was over. Orryn was unharmed, but the dagger had been plunged into the man’s leg, where it must’ve found an artery.
The man in the green jacket bled out on the floor quickly. As soon as Boris noticed, he burst into a rage. He grabbed Orryn and tossed him into the street, into the rain.
Boris screamed at Orryn “What have you done! What did I say! No nonsense! I could get shut down for this. The city guard will be here shortly and I’ll have to explain why one of my former employees killed a patron! You’ve put me and my family in jeopardy. Get out of here. You’re not welcome here anymore.”
Orryn pleaded from the ground “I was trying to save you! I saw in the crystal! I cant-“
But Boris cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. This tavern is all I have, and you may have cost me that. Leave”
Orryn, soaked, slumped down silent for a long moment, and then said “Who did I remind you of?”
“You used to remind me of my son” responded Boris, then he slammed the door.
Orryn stayed in the rain that night, but he did not sleep. When morning light came in, he fled to the darkest place he could find, his old gambling hole. He took the few silvers he had on him and began in his old way. For he had realized something that night. Fate was wrong. Boris did not die. The reading was clear as day, but it didn’t come true. It occurred to Orryn that fate wasn’t what had to happen, simply what would happen if nothing intervenes, and most people are blind to it and follow the road they were sent down. Those with the knowledge to do so, can create their own fate.
He gambled the entire day away, but this time, he didn’t lose once. He amassed over 300 gold that day before he bought some supplies and left the city. He still didn’t know what his future held, but he knew it was no longer in that city.
He fled to another large city where he could blend in. He took his money and opened up a fortune telling shop, “The Poor Oracle”. Business began slowly, but one day an apparently important nobleman’s wife entered his shop, and was thrilled with her fortune. She spread his name to other wealthy aristocrats, who also began to frequent his establishment. He settled there for a long time, spending the next hundred years deep in study, trying to find any hint of what his future may hold. He ran his shop simply to earn a living. He became among the most respected fortune tellers in the city, many called him an oracle.
No amount of study revealed any new information about his future, and his curiosity was becoming insatiable, he was getting fixated. What always proved to calm him and help remind him that he still has some control was gambling. He would disguise himself and play at small time gambling dens, winning big every time.
And sometimes, on very rare occasions, he would peer into his crystal ball and scry Boris.
Sure enough, he was still alive, running his tavern.