A man with a thousand faces
Possibly Roland was an elf raised amongst humans. He didn’t know his father. He barely knows his mother. He was an acrobat with a travelling troupe, where was learnt to be agile, to act, and to disguise himself as other races and species.
Recruited, as a relatively young man, to do dirty work for the Dominion – it was simple things, to start with. Blackmail, a little murder, some light arson – his talents lay not with magic, but with finding simple solutions behind complex situations, and with pushing the right buttons on the right people.
Possibly gained himself a little reputation for getting a job done, with less bloodshed than most tools of the Dominion. Possibly Roland is tired. Tired of plotting behind people’s backs, tired of being left on doorsteps, tired of being discarded. In the Dominion he finds a purpose for his talents – provide results, and you are provided with a use. He gives his loyalty, not because it is the right thing to do – far from it, but because it gives him a purpose in life.
Possibly is an Agent Provocateur, and the team that go with him are his smokescreen. He goes in to retrieve things, or burn things, and the team handle the combat and the distraction. He is aided by voice known solely as Verstand. Verstand, from the sounds of things, is lovely to an man with crippling self value issues. Rarely comprehensible, completely competent.
He recently retired to a hidden vineyard, crewed entirely by Roland’s Doppelgangers. Exslaves, all have been turned into perfect doppelgangers of Roland, and each will be trained to emulate him and his ways – although none will inherit his issues, his alcohol or his relative catch phrase of motheeeer.
P1. The world is ending
Roland has begun to lose his already tenuous grip on sanity. He is driven, on wards and onwards. Not by purpose or by any goal, but tossed about by the winds of fate. His smiles hide a mind increasingly occupied by the end, of the world, of the Dominion, of his home, of the company. Of himself.