Omar was born in the port village of Orleans 150 years ago. Omar’s mother was abandoned by his father shortly after his birth, leaving the drow woman alone with two sons. Omar’s half-brother, Avon, was a young man when Omar was born, and he decided to leave home to become a pirate, attacking the various ships that sailed into the providence of Sigmar from time to time. Despite his drow heritage, Avon swore a personal oath to never rob those who couldn’t afford the loss. Far from a sensitive man, Avon figured that such individuals would be carrying less valuable goods on their ships and Avon was a greedy man with high ambitions. Avon gathered similar-minded drow and formed them into his crew aboard the only high sea vessel ever to be commandeered by a drow; the Shady Shark, named because the drow would only ambush enemy ships in the head of night where their race’s strengths were at their peak.

Omar and his mother lived off of the money that Avon sent home to them following their plunders, the racconan of Orleans leaving the small family alone for the most part because of their close ties with Captain Avon the Heartless; a title that Avon had justifiably earned when he shot his first mate point-blank for asking for a two-week leave of absence to best his rapidly growing scurvy infection. Avon appointed a new first mate from among his crew, but the vacuum had left the position of cabin boy open; a position that Avon offered to young Omar. Against Omar’s wishes, the young drow eagerly left home and sailed the high seas with his half-brother.

As Omar grew older, he was given more and more responsibilities on the ship, until at least, Omar had reached 25 years of age; the point in an elf’s life where they are biologically an adult. Although by cultural standards Omar was still a child, Avon believed that the boy was old enough to officially join the pirate’s crew and earn his place among them. Omar was eager to do whatever his brother requested of him, and Avon told Omar that he was expected to “earn his bones,” a practice which meant he needed to make his first kill. When he was still a boy, Omar was expected to wait below deck when the pirates raided. This time, however, Omar sulked in the shadows above deck that night, picking out his targets. Wanting to impress Avon, Omar spotted a bulky human who was firing at Omar’s comrades with an expensive-looking firearm; Omar would later learn that it was called a blunderbuss. Omar crept up silently on the man and pounced on him, forcing him to the ground. After he knocked away the gun from its owners hands, Omar pressed his brother’s knife, given to him for this task, against’s the man’s throat and asked him, “What is your name.”

“O … Omar,” he replied, and Omar quickly slit his throat. After the battle had ended, Omar still sat over the body of his victim, keeping anyone; friend and enemy alike, away from his kill. Avon approached Omar and asked him, “What was the name of the man you killed.”

“Omar,” he replied, and on that day, Omar earned his bones. Although Omar was not the drow’s original name, he took it up in accordance to the pirate’s code, as Avon and the rest of the crew had done before him. Omar spent the next 85 years aboard his brother’s ship. Although the world around them changed; Orleans became a thriving city and several smaller cities opened up around the providence’s capitol, Sigmar, time barely seemed to move at all for Omar. Until one fateful day, several weeks after Omar’s 110th birthday, the day that he became a true man in the eyes of all drow, when a gang of pirates got the better of Omar’s crew. Taking their strategy to heart, a clan of racconan pirates attacked Omar’s fleet during the day while they rested. Leaping quickly into action, Omar grabbed his only real possession; the blunderbuss that he had won from the original Omar so many years ago, and dove into the water, watching his brother’s fleet burn in the cove in which they anchored before his eyes. Omar knew, however, that death was a part of that business, and swam away, back to the shore. Omar never met another drow who survived that attack, though then again, Omar didn’t go looking for survivors either. Almost a century living with those men and woman left Omar jaded with their very existence, and so instead of focusing on the past, Omar looked ahead towards the future, and how he would survive in the world now.

Upon reaching the shore, Omar realized that he wasn’t far off from Orleans, the city that Omar was born in. Far from going to enjoy the sights or to reminisce, Omar knew that the racconans of Orleans were invaluable contacts; the less moral among them having been easily bribed in releasing documentation of which ships would have great payloads for the pirates. Omar, however, had no interest in returning to the sea; he instead scoured the town for any leads on ways to make money for himself. What he found was a young racconan, barely more than a boy, by the name of Ranthal. Originally, Ranthal tried to swindle Omar out of his blunderbuss by offering an extremely low amount of gold for it. Called it little better than scrap iron. Omar refused on the grounds that the blunderbuss had sentimental value to him, and Ranthal came clean with the true worth of a firearm as a last-ditch attempt to get Omar to sell. Firearms like Omar’s blunderbuss were a fledgling technology then and worth thousands more than it actually cost to make it.

Having grown up a thief, Omar’s first response was to try and find ways to acquire firearms to sell. Upon mentioning this plan to Ranthal, the racconan told Omar that the major supplier of firearms in the area were the dwarves of Ironfist; a nearby town northeast of Orleans. After doing a small bit of investigating, Omar and Ranthal found out that Duke Franz Sigmund, ruler of the city and providence of Sigmar, was planning on inspecting the dwarven weapons to determine if the new technology was fit to arm his guards with. Disguising himself as a human, Omar paid a visit to Ironfist and investigated the town, checking each of the caches that the Duke had made deals with to purchase. Although other caches that weren’t open to the duke existed and many of them had finer weaponry then the duke was choosing to purchase, Omar swore an oath to his brother, Avon, many years ago that he would follow in his ways, and one of them was to always hit the man with the deepest pockets.

After returning to Ranthal with the information on what the duke was buying, Ranthal was able to easily use his contacts within the various trading guilds to find the exact route that each of the duke’s caravans was expected to follow. Each day, Omar traveled to one of the Duke’s caravans and robbed the men of all weaponry they possessed, only having to kill those guards in rare circumstances. Once they saw Omar’s ever-increasing skill with the blunderbuss, they dropped to the ground and would eat dirt for Omar if he so much as pointed his boom-stick in their direction. In return, Ranthal sold the weapons to various clientele on the black market, splitting the profits down the middle with Omar. Omar and Ranthal kept up their heists on their own for fifteen years before they decided to increase the size of their operations.

Although Omar was skilled, he also had many close calls when robbing the Duke’s caravans; one time, he was almost caught and beaten by a particularly stubborn dwarf who unexpectedly joined the caravan’s journey; Omar only made off with a fraction of his intended stock that day, which hurt Ranthal and his sales dramatically. It was Ranthal who suggested to Omar that he put together a small gang to aid him on the heists, pointing out that they’d still have plenty of gold for themselves even if they had to hire two or three extra guns. With that, Omar set out to build himself a gang. Although members came and went, one individual stuck with Omar over the years; a mephian by the name of Gregory Marlo, whom Omar nicknamed “Peppy” for his spunky enthusiasm when it came to tackling jobs.

Seventeen years into their heist-making gang and Omar found himself at 142 with little outlook for his future aside from being a criminal. Duke Franz Sigmund had passed away and Karl Sigmund had taken his place, quickly proving to be an oppressive and selfish tyrant in political matters. Ranthal, who was now twenty-three years old, was becoming less and less involved with the heists as he found himself skirting back and forth from lady to lady, much to Omar’s amusement. Peppy, however, seemed attached to Omar, though Omar had little love for the mephian beyond the respect that comes from watching another man kill someone. Omar, however, had little prospects for the future beyond the life of a highwayman; when he earned his bones so many years ago, he also swore off of all ties to family and the idea of settling down. Omar was convinced that he would die alone in a failed heist of some kind, and that all he had to do was continue to succeed until that time came. Omar’s outlook changed completely when he met Brandon Blackshot.

Brandon was young, twenty-one years of age. From what Omar could gather, the young human left resorted to a life of crime when the Duke’s men requisitioned his family’s small business and banished the lot of them for speaking against the Duke’s unfair Mandatory Guild Admittance Act, which forced all of the local businesses to join guilds that paid a hefty tax to Duke Sigmund and his wasteful Sigmarian Mage-Slayers. Omar was almost immediately infatuated with the human, spending all of his time with the lad. With time, the two became lovers and Omar’s thoughts turned to the oath he made to Avon.

“Avon is dead, and the fleet rotting on the ocean floor,” Omar decided. “I must do what makes me happy in the today.”

Omar and Brandon were together for five years before tragedy struck them. Brandon and Omar attempted a heist against a small trading caravan heading for the Duke’s home alone, Peppy requesting several days off in order to fight a cold he had caught. The two located their target easily, but Omar could tell something was wrong. Before he could warn Brandon, the human jumped out from cover and made his move, only to find that the caravan was enforced with Duke Sigmund’s veteran soldiers, who immediately surrounded and captured Brandon while Omar watched in despair in the shadows.

Omar quickly followed the caravan, which was heading to the Duke’s Palace as planned. Omar stalked the duke’s royal grounds, waiting for any sign of Brandon. The next morning, Omar spotted the duke’s guards making their way around the city of Sigmar, informing the people that Duke Sigmar requested the people’s presence at a public trial. Knowing whom was on trial, Omar disguised himself as a human and headed into the town square as the sun began to set, watching in horror as Brandon was tied to a large pole up on a small stone stage. Omar could see that Brandon was badly beaten, probably tortured for information. Duke Sigmund himself came before his people and listed Brandon’s crimes, Omar noting that, “refusing to answer questions regarding matters of public security” as one of his charges. With each charge, one of Duke Sigmund’s men dropped a bundle of sticks underneath Brandon’s pole. Omar only realized what was going on when the men poured oil over Brandon and his pyre as Duke Sigmund himself hurled a torch at Brandon. Omar’s lover immediately burst into flames, his screams haunting Omar even to this day.

As the murmurs of horrified onlookers faded, Duke Sigmund called forth the individual for placing the tip on how to capture such a heinous criminal; none other than Omar’s former comrade, Peppy. Rage poured into Omar’s heart as the mephian was knighted before the crowd for his service and placed in charge of all of Orleans as a reward, tasked with exterminating the black market and any who would rob from Duke Sigmund. Omar noted with pride that Peppy looked worried; probably that Omar had not been caught.

A year passed and Omar’s hatred for Duke Sigmund and Peppy burned brightly. He left the heisting business altogether, plotting his each and every move against Duke Sigmund, infiltrating his home and learning everything he could about the layout of the the Duke’s Home. Finally, Omar was ready to make his move. His plan worked flawlessly; he sneaked into the castle in the dead of night, easily trounced the guards without making a single sound, and crept into Karl Sigmund’s bed chamber. The chamber was large and elegant; Omar knew he had only one chance. He took his blunderbuss, crept over to Karl’s bed, pointed the blunderbuss at the Duke’s head … and his gun made a sickening clunk as sparks burst forth from the gun, waking up the Duke. Karl spun in is bed and dove in time to dodge the torrent of flame that exploded from the blunderbuss, guaranteeing that the bed would be reduced to ash, but missing his one chance to kill Duke Sigmund. Without any options and the palace guard quickly converging on his location, Omar leaped out of a window and sulked off into the night.

Another year passed and Omar found himself in a depression. He hadn’t seen his one friend, Ranthal, in two years, Brandon was dead, and Peppy betrayed him and his lover. Omar was ready to kill himself when a small bottle rolled in front of him, seemingly from nowhere. Inside the bottle was a note that said someone would be able to help Omar if he was willing to help a woman by the name of Glados. Omar agreed and signed the document as indicated, hurling the bottle into the sea and setting up camp by the ocean where he tossed it. The next morning, Omar awoke in a strange bed, prompting his escape from GLaDOS’s Enrichment Center and his meeting of Jewel, Shuriel, Zerrick, and Breven. After hearing of Breven’s goal to remove Duke Sigmund from his office, a spark of home ignited within Omar’s heart. Perhaps this time, with the right planning and the aid of these new companions, Omar would be able to get his revenge on Peppy and Duke Sigmund for destroying the only chance at happiness the drow would ever have.


The Revolution of Sigmar keggy