Alkahan Thims

Alkahn Thims is one the two last surviving members of the Thims family and the heir of its fortune. A once-renowned lineage of collectors, restorers, and traders of rare art and historical artifacts. Five generations ago, the Thims arrived on the Material Plane as refugees from a distant realm. With them came a keen eye for craftsmanship, cultural knowledge, and a ruthless instinct for business. They built a fortune by acquiring and reselling priceless relics — paintings, sculptures, ceremonial weapons, ancient maps, enchanted curios, and anything with a verifiable story behind it.

Their estate grew into something between a museum and a vault. Art lined every hall. Locked chambers held recovered artifacts waiting for restoration or sale. The Thims became known not just for wealth, but for influence — their network touched nobles, scholars, guilds, and collectors across Pridaria.

But their empire had a darker side.

Some pieces were acquired through questionable deals, desperate sellers, or expeditions that pushed ethical boundaries. The line between “preservation” and “plunder” was blurred long before Alkahn was born.

The Decline of the Thims Family

Over the course of two decades, the Thims family was slowly devastated by disease and a string of tragic, ill-timed accidents. By the time Alkahn was born, the once-large and influential household had dwindled to only a handful of surviving members: Alkahn, his mother and father, a cousin close to his age, that cousin’s siblings and parents, and a pair of aging grandparents.

Those grandparents passed away when Alkahn was around six, marking the beginning of the family’s final decline. Two years later, both his mother and his aunt mysteriously went missing, vanishing without explanation during a routine trip between Thims-owned properties. Their disappearance was the crack that split the remaining family apart.

Not long afterward, tragedy struck again. An unstable artifact destabilized inside one of the Thims warehouses, threatening to collapse the entire structure. Alkahn’s father sacrificed himself to contain the disaster, saving his son and the employees trapped inside. His loss sent shockwaves through what was left of the family.

The final blow came when Alkahn’s uncle, the last adult figure in the line, was lost at sea during a shipment run.

By the age of ten, Alkahn and his cousin were all that remained of the Thims bloodline — with Alkahn recognized as the presumed heir to the bulk of the family’s remaining fortune and its sprawling, now-neglected collection.

Taking to the street

As Alkahn grew older, he became restless — and increasingly rebellious. The Thims business, despite the family tragedies, continued to run smoothly under the guidance of long-time steward Mr. Jefferies, who attempted to tutor Alkahn in appraisal, restoration, and responsible management of the estate.

Alkahn wanted none of it.

Instead of studying beside his cousin and preparing for his inheritance, he slipped away whenever he could. Eventually, his disappearances became permanent. In a final act of defiance, he raided one of the storage rooms, taking several minor artifacts and pawning them off for far less than their true value. He knew their worth — selling them cheaply was part of the rebellion.

Only one item he could not bring himself to part with:

a dagger from the oldest wing of the vault. It was not the craftsmanship alone that made him keep it. Something about the blade called to him, subtle but persistent, like a whisper at the edge of hearing. Every time he considered selling it, an instinctive pull stopped him cold.

Once free of the estate, Alkahn embraced anonymity. He lived on the streets, deliberately neglecting both his inheritance and the responsibilities tied to his name. He scavenged and stole to survive — food, coins, and the occasional trinket — but rarely for himself. He shared what he took with other street kids, the homeless, and the overlooked.

It was during this period of living rough that he first met Lotes, another child of the streets whose sharp instincts and sharp wit matched Alkahn’s own. Their friendship began with a shared meal stolen from the same distracted vendor, and from there grew into a partnership built on survival, trust, and a shared disdain for the wealthy who ignored the suffering below their own windows

The Jig is Up

Alkahn and Lotes survived longer than most street thieves their age, but even the clever slip eventually. Their downfall came during an attempted pickpocketing that should have been simple — a distracted nobleman, an easy purse, a clean getaway.

Instead, the “nobleman” turned out to be Headmaster Drake, a seasoned adventurer and the sharp-eyed leader of MAGE Academy.

He caught them both in a single move.

Dragged before the local magistrate, Alkahn and Lotes expected jail time or hard labor. Instead, Headmaster Drake stepped forward and made an unusual request: that the court allow the pair to attend MAGE Academy in lieu of a sentence.

He argued that raw talent, desperation, and determination were often the ingredients of remarkable mages and adventurers. And he claimed — with surprising confidence — that both boys possessed potential far too valuable to waste behind bars.

The court agreed.

And so, instead of iron bars and a cell, Alkahn and Lotes were given an unexpected second chance: a place at MAGE Academy, where their lives would take a far different path than anything they’d known on the streets.

The unknown patron

The dagger Alkahn refused to part with had sat in the Thims collection for a generation. While many artifacts were deliberately held long-term to appreciate in value, this blade was different. It wasn’t cataloged. It wasn’t insured. It wasn’t even displayed.

It was simply there — an overlooked piece gathering dust, passed over by appraisers and ignored by scholars.

Only when Alkahn carried it did anything change.

After several weeks with the dagger in his possession, Alkahn experienced a vivid dream. In it, he fought with flawless precision, wielding multiple weapons as though he had trained with each of them for years. When he awoke, the dream didn’t fade like dreams normally do — it lingered.

And soon, he realized why.

Alkahn discovered that he could pick up any weapon and handle it with unexpected natural talent. Movements he had never practiced came to him effortlessly. His skill with blades surpassed anything he had learned fencing in the Thims estate. It was as if his body remembered training he had never received.

His magical aptitude also sharpened.

Alkahn had always struggled with basic spellcraft, barely managing a cantrip on his best days. But with the dagger at his side, spells flowed more easily — not with the elegance of a trained mage, but with the competence of someone who suddenly understood the rhythm of spellcasting.

And then there was the voice.

Soft. Occasional.

Always at the edge of his awareness.

It didn’t command. It didn’t threaten.

It simply urged him toward courage — to stand firm, to take risks, to step forward instead of retreat.

Alkahn didn’t know where the voice came from.

He didn’t question it much, either.

He liked how it made him feel.