Lenasaurus
Turtle, but Literate
General Information
Name: Bleak of the Rapine Lash
Ethnicity: Laman
Path: Spiritseer
Appearance
Bleak was born slight of frame and dark of skin. Beyond this, and even then in only the most tangental of ways, little of his origin still clings to his mortal shell. Ever-driven to progress in his quest for enlightenment, Bleak has bonded thoroughly with natural spirits, and lost much of his human aspect as a result. Save for such consistencies such as the right number of eyes, digits, and limbs, Bleak's appearance is a distinct departure from being merely human.
Once-dark hair now frizzes like wild lichen and crawls down his back like the same, in a cacophony of earthen reds and dusty greys. His eyes glimmer with the sparkling, silvery light of geodes, but only on the rare occurrence when the light actually touches them - every crook and crag of his body - face, profile, even veination - has grown stiff and prominent like cleaved mica or gnarled wood, and casts much of his often-submissive posture in shadow.
Despite this fearsomeness, made all the grimmer by the simple black traveler's cloak he still wears, and the literal shades of jet and mahogany his skin has taken on, Bleak remains small in physical size despite his imposing spiritual stature. His body is tough and gaunt, with positively gnarled limbs and firm muscle, more in the way of knotted rope than a broad slab of rock. Dextrous fingers and the glow of supernaturally healthy skin remind of sunlight flashing off running water, while the dust seems to swirl at his feet and joints as though kissed by a light breeze.
Personality
Taciturn and humble to a fault, Bleak bears all the marks (physical and otherwise) of a low-born upbringing among the Tribes of Lama. Not only burdened with the curse of being a man in that matriarchal society, but also something more - and so much less - his personality reflects how seriously he has taken his childhood teachings to heart, and how low he considers himself in the great order of things, as one who does not fit within it, but rather, beneath it.
Bleak considers himself not subservient t, but certainly inferior, to all other humanity, and as such does not even have the social obligation to obey that Outcastes do - instead he more deeply explores the subhuman periphery by communing with the spirits in the hope that he can transcend his limitations.
Hopes
That he will be redeemed by this life to break free of the shackles of dream and return to the truth which only the gods know.
Fears
That his suspicions are false, and that he is a monster and a tyrant who will be punished by the gods for his sinfulness.
Regrets
That the death of Mother Ayin was for nothing.
Connections
The Many Mothers, mostly dead, and of no value to him or any other in his travels, but the only 'family' he still possesses.
Attributes
Physical
Strength 2
Dexterity 2
Fitness 2
Mental
Intellect 2
Intuition 2 (+1-2 from Bonding)
Willpower 3
Social
Bearing 2
Guile 1
Composure 3
Skills
Physical
Awareness 2
Athletics 2
Melee 2
Defense 2 (+2 from Oldtusk Ebony)
Stealth 2
Mental
Craft 1
Lore 2
Survival 2
Investigation 2
Social
Language 1
Empathy 1
Advantages
Familiarity:
To Love Like Tiger
Empathy (Slaves and servants)
Animal Handling (discouraging predators)
Mingling (market folk)
Knowledge:
To Laugh Like Thunder
Lore (spirits)
Survival (Laman jungles)
Craft (Laman Spirit Weapons)
Training:
To Feast Like Elephant
Melee (clubs/maces)
Defense (spirits)
Awareness (spirits)
Spiritseer Perks
Binding - 3 (spirit weapon, Wood)
A sturdy truncheon of Oldtusk Ebony, deemed sacred to Elephant, the likes of which grows only in arid, carrion-rich climes, is the only weapon Bleak chooses to bear. [COLOR= rgb(0, 0, 0)](+ 2 Defend, + 2 Damage).[/COLOR]
Bonding - 3
In his quest of sublimation, Bleak has devoured a plethora of lesser spirits, and earned for himself the following advantages:
Bond of Earth - Lesser: +2 Soak and +1 intuition when touching the ground
Bond of Wood - Lesser: accelerated regeneration (+2 con/day) in less esoteric terms, Bleak can recover from an injury as catastrophic as a broken arm in forty-eight hours.
Bond of Air - Minor: +1 to intuition rolls
Bond of Water - Minor: Bleak is resistant to poisons, toxins, and disease
Derived Stats
Speed:
Combat Pool:
Ranged Pool:
Offence: Melee:
Offense: Ranged:
Offence: Unarmed:
Defend Rating:
Soak: (+2 from Bonding)
Magic Resist:
Inventory
Background
Every child born under Kite's sky knows about Spiritseers. Less fortunate than even the filthiest Outcaste, they are damned and twisted inside and out, so dark within that even the shadows of shadows shine ilke the sun compared to their coarse, black souls. Perhaps before one is revealed and taken to deathly places by cruel sages, they had names - Jia's and Nani's and Arrono's and Kal's - but after they are chosen, what are they, then? Whispered about. Remembered vaguely. Abandoned with furious intent. Their names are forgotten, save perhaps by their mothers who know wordlessly what the child which they gave to the world was before that caul was removed and their fate sealed.
Yet names are tricky things, and can be given just as well as taken away. Everyone needs a name before they can be of use, and in the Oldest of Graveyards, so sacred to Elephant that it has been forgotten by the Twelve tribes, a place where the sun barely shines and the water barely flows and the plants barely grow, everything must be useful, or else it will be discarded. And so the little boys and girls are given other names: Ash. Barren. Without. Sorrow. Pain. Hollow.
Bleak.
The Many Mothers of Elephant's Oldest Graveyard pondered mysteries far darker and deeper than the truths of the world - the thin-as-mist barrier between the gods' wakefulness and slumber which was all the world could hopelessly cling to in its inevitable progression. These faithful of The Mourning One live lives devoted to aesthetic pursuit of perfection, struggling to live a precious life as best it can be to honor Elephant's sorrow at their eventual demise. They scratch a living out of the wasted wastes in a celebrated exile with no currency but health and wisdom and the little lives they claimed to trade and spend like cattle, and Bleak grew among them. He had always been a solemn, thoughtful child, who readily surrendered to his fate. As he was taught the Mothers' philosophy and the spiritual hierarchy that veiled the world around them, he grew strong and silent and servile and sage, all in time, with great difficulty, and constant pain. The Mothers were never kinder to those who grew and who learned - more demanding, and less harsh, but never kinder. Few survived. There were, after all, no Fathers.
But Bleak remained Bleak, for he listened well and learned much, and in his reflections happened upon wisdom and gained some worth in the Mothers' eyes, enough to keep him around as a curiosity, of sorts. The one who tested him most, and despised him least, was Mother Ayin. She was the oldest and strangest and cruelest of them all, and kept him on a short leash as she poured her wisdom into his thick skull one moonrise at a time. When she lay upon her deathbed, she spoke to him in whispered breaths, acknowledging that a lifetime of seeking the truth had led her to nothing. All was without purpose. She would return to the earth and to death and to the dream, and come back as the Gods willed it, and all of her trials would be forgotten, save by his memory, poor as it was. This distressed Bleak greatly, for she was the best of them all - how could even she know nothing at the end of such a journey?
And so it was that Bleak had discovered something very wise indeed: proportion. Humanity built great towers and wove great art and bargained with strong spirits and made the most out of their lives, yes, but why? What did water do? No drop of rain was less precious than any other. A cup of water lifted from a puddle returned to the puddle just as easily. Until it soaked into the earth, and vanished, and shared itself. That earth could be baked by sun and blown by wind and hardened by frost and would remain. Somewhere, somehow, humans must be the same --- or else they were different. And this was the wisdom which Bleak came upon - cursed to be human, cursed to be man, cursed to be Spiritseer, he was the lowest servant amongst the lowliest Outcastes kept by the lowest of heretics in the lowest of places - and yet, knowing all this, what could he believe, except that there was some wisdom to be found in his situation? If he was water, it would not matter if he was water passed by a drunkard into the latrine or the deepest and purest droplet at the bottom of the sea. He would still be water. So it was with living - life was without distinction from death, and from any other life, as it would all return to the dream --- and then back to life --- unless, somehow, in death, one could awaken. And there lay the next wisdom: all things were lies, all things were tests.
The smallest fire which could not speak or think or even flicker could be consumed by a greater fire, and so become greater, as a part of it. In the same way as the fires grew greater and stronger as they climbed in worth and power, so did human beings climb the castes, to the purest and most-perfect man could be---- and yet all would die, and would return to the same endless sea of dream. It was all a test. He, at the lowest rung, had no need to worry about climbing - he could not even reach the lowest step of advancement, so utterly and completely was he damned. But that was the test. All strove to climb up - why not climb down?
So it is that Bleak began his quest among the wasted wastes of the Oldest Graveyard - he communes and consumes only that which is as nearly as worthless as himself - the simplest motes and the lowest ranking, unthinking spirits. In time, perhaps, he will become more like them, and can degrade himself completely enough to escape the bonds of humanity and to rejoin the dream properly, as spirit does, to escape on the Breath of the Gods in their Slumber. And over time he left the Oldest Graveyard and the Many Mothers, and then the very blessed cradle of the spirits and the tribes, searching for coarser material and fainter traces of the unworld he so desperately seeks, guided by whim or perhaps by Elephant herself, pitying or amused by her least-favorite son.
Name: Bleak of the Rapine Lash
Ethnicity: Laman
Path: Spiritseer
Appearance
Bleak was born slight of frame and dark of skin. Beyond this, and even then in only the most tangental of ways, little of his origin still clings to his mortal shell. Ever-driven to progress in his quest for enlightenment, Bleak has bonded thoroughly with natural spirits, and lost much of his human aspect as a result. Save for such consistencies such as the right number of eyes, digits, and limbs, Bleak's appearance is a distinct departure from being merely human.
Once-dark hair now frizzes like wild lichen and crawls down his back like the same, in a cacophony of earthen reds and dusty greys. His eyes glimmer with the sparkling, silvery light of geodes, but only on the rare occurrence when the light actually touches them - every crook and crag of his body - face, profile, even veination - has grown stiff and prominent like cleaved mica or gnarled wood, and casts much of his often-submissive posture in shadow.
Despite this fearsomeness, made all the grimmer by the simple black traveler's cloak he still wears, and the literal shades of jet and mahogany his skin has taken on, Bleak remains small in physical size despite his imposing spiritual stature. His body is tough and gaunt, with positively gnarled limbs and firm muscle, more in the way of knotted rope than a broad slab of rock. Dextrous fingers and the glow of supernaturally healthy skin remind of sunlight flashing off running water, while the dust seems to swirl at his feet and joints as though kissed by a light breeze.
Personality
Taciturn and humble to a fault, Bleak bears all the marks (physical and otherwise) of a low-born upbringing among the Tribes of Lama. Not only burdened with the curse of being a man in that matriarchal society, but also something more - and so much less - his personality reflects how seriously he has taken his childhood teachings to heart, and how low he considers himself in the great order of things, as one who does not fit within it, but rather, beneath it.
Bleak considers himself not subservient t, but certainly inferior, to all other humanity, and as such does not even have the social obligation to obey that Outcastes do - instead he more deeply explores the subhuman periphery by communing with the spirits in the hope that he can transcend his limitations.
Hopes
That he will be redeemed by this life to break free of the shackles of dream and return to the truth which only the gods know.
Fears
That his suspicions are false, and that he is a monster and a tyrant who will be punished by the gods for his sinfulness.
Regrets
That the death of Mother Ayin was for nothing.
Connections
The Many Mothers, mostly dead, and of no value to him or any other in his travels, but the only 'family' he still possesses.
Attributes
Physical
Strength 2
Dexterity 2
Fitness 2
Mental
Intellect 2
Intuition 2 (+1-2 from Bonding)
Willpower 3
Social
Bearing 2
Guile 1
Composure 3
Skills
Physical
Awareness 2
Athletics 2
Melee 2
Defense 2 (+2 from Oldtusk Ebony)
Stealth 2
Mental
Craft 1
Lore 2
Survival 2
Investigation 2
Social
Language 1
Empathy 1
Advantages
Familiarity:
To Love Like Tiger
Empathy (Slaves and servants)
Animal Handling (discouraging predators)
Mingling (market folk)
Knowledge:
To Laugh Like Thunder
Lore (spirits)
Survival (Laman jungles)
Craft (Laman Spirit Weapons)
Training:
To Feast Like Elephant
Melee (clubs/maces)
Defense (spirits)
Awareness (spirits)
Spiritseer Perks
Binding - 3 (spirit weapon, Wood)
A sturdy truncheon of Oldtusk Ebony, deemed sacred to Elephant, the likes of which grows only in arid, carrion-rich climes, is the only weapon Bleak chooses to bear. [COLOR= rgb(0, 0, 0)](+ 2 Defend, + 2 Damage).[/COLOR]
Bonding - 3
In his quest of sublimation, Bleak has devoured a plethora of lesser spirits, and earned for himself the following advantages:
Bond of Earth - Lesser: +2 Soak and +1 intuition when touching the ground
Bond of Wood - Lesser: accelerated regeneration (+2 con/day) in less esoteric terms, Bleak can recover from an injury as catastrophic as a broken arm in forty-eight hours.
Bond of Air - Minor: +1 to intuition rolls
Bond of Water - Minor: Bleak is resistant to poisons, toxins, and disease
Derived Stats
Speed:
Combat Pool:
Ranged Pool:
Offence: Melee:
Offense: Ranged:
Offence: Unarmed:
Defend Rating:
Soak: (+2 from Bonding)
Magic Resist:
Inventory
Background
Every child born under Kite's sky knows about Spiritseers. Less fortunate than even the filthiest Outcaste, they are damned and twisted inside and out, so dark within that even the shadows of shadows shine ilke the sun compared to their coarse, black souls. Perhaps before one is revealed and taken to deathly places by cruel sages, they had names - Jia's and Nani's and Arrono's and Kal's - but after they are chosen, what are they, then? Whispered about. Remembered vaguely. Abandoned with furious intent. Their names are forgotten, save perhaps by their mothers who know wordlessly what the child which they gave to the world was before that caul was removed and their fate sealed.
Yet names are tricky things, and can be given just as well as taken away. Everyone needs a name before they can be of use, and in the Oldest of Graveyards, so sacred to Elephant that it has been forgotten by the Twelve tribes, a place where the sun barely shines and the water barely flows and the plants barely grow, everything must be useful, or else it will be discarded. And so the little boys and girls are given other names: Ash. Barren. Without. Sorrow. Pain. Hollow.
Bleak.
The Many Mothers of Elephant's Oldest Graveyard pondered mysteries far darker and deeper than the truths of the world - the thin-as-mist barrier between the gods' wakefulness and slumber which was all the world could hopelessly cling to in its inevitable progression. These faithful of The Mourning One live lives devoted to aesthetic pursuit of perfection, struggling to live a precious life as best it can be to honor Elephant's sorrow at their eventual demise. They scratch a living out of the wasted wastes in a celebrated exile with no currency but health and wisdom and the little lives they claimed to trade and spend like cattle, and Bleak grew among them. He had always been a solemn, thoughtful child, who readily surrendered to his fate. As he was taught the Mothers' philosophy and the spiritual hierarchy that veiled the world around them, he grew strong and silent and servile and sage, all in time, with great difficulty, and constant pain. The Mothers were never kinder to those who grew and who learned - more demanding, and less harsh, but never kinder. Few survived. There were, after all, no Fathers.
But Bleak remained Bleak, for he listened well and learned much, and in his reflections happened upon wisdom and gained some worth in the Mothers' eyes, enough to keep him around as a curiosity, of sorts. The one who tested him most, and despised him least, was Mother Ayin. She was the oldest and strangest and cruelest of them all, and kept him on a short leash as she poured her wisdom into his thick skull one moonrise at a time. When she lay upon her deathbed, she spoke to him in whispered breaths, acknowledging that a lifetime of seeking the truth had led her to nothing. All was without purpose. She would return to the earth and to death and to the dream, and come back as the Gods willed it, and all of her trials would be forgotten, save by his memory, poor as it was. This distressed Bleak greatly, for she was the best of them all - how could even she know nothing at the end of such a journey?
And so it was that Bleak had discovered something very wise indeed: proportion. Humanity built great towers and wove great art and bargained with strong spirits and made the most out of their lives, yes, but why? What did water do? No drop of rain was less precious than any other. A cup of water lifted from a puddle returned to the puddle just as easily. Until it soaked into the earth, and vanished, and shared itself. That earth could be baked by sun and blown by wind and hardened by frost and would remain. Somewhere, somehow, humans must be the same --- or else they were different. And this was the wisdom which Bleak came upon - cursed to be human, cursed to be man, cursed to be Spiritseer, he was the lowest servant amongst the lowliest Outcastes kept by the lowest of heretics in the lowest of places - and yet, knowing all this, what could he believe, except that there was some wisdom to be found in his situation? If he was water, it would not matter if he was water passed by a drunkard into the latrine or the deepest and purest droplet at the bottom of the sea. He would still be water. So it was with living - life was without distinction from death, and from any other life, as it would all return to the dream --- and then back to life --- unless, somehow, in death, one could awaken. And there lay the next wisdom: all things were lies, all things were tests.
The smallest fire which could not speak or think or even flicker could be consumed by a greater fire, and so become greater, as a part of it. In the same way as the fires grew greater and stronger as they climbed in worth and power, so did human beings climb the castes, to the purest and most-perfect man could be---- and yet all would die, and would return to the same endless sea of dream. It was all a test. He, at the lowest rung, had no need to worry about climbing - he could not even reach the lowest step of advancement, so utterly and completely was he damned. But that was the test. All strove to climb up - why not climb down?
So it is that Bleak began his quest among the wasted wastes of the Oldest Graveyard - he communes and consumes only that which is as nearly as worthless as himself - the simplest motes and the lowest ranking, unthinking spirits. In time, perhaps, he will become more like them, and can degrade himself completely enough to escape the bonds of humanity and to rejoin the dream properly, as spirit does, to escape on the Breath of the Gods in their Slumber. And over time he left the Oldest Graveyard and the Many Mothers, and then the very blessed cradle of the spirits and the tribes, searching for coarser material and fainter traces of the unworld he so desperately seeks, guided by whim or perhaps by Elephant herself, pitying or amused by her least-favorite son.
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