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Fantasy THE CHRONICLES OF EIRIOND: Character Index
- Thread starter d1uni5ys24si3o
- Start date
Calypso Major
Astronomical Violinist
. : Philosophy of Life : .
"With life comes chances, and with chances comes two things: You can either not try, and regret playing safe for the rest of your life--or you can take that chance. You'll either lose, and the Gods will grant you a small amount of wisdom from your mistakes-- or you'll succeed, and the Gods will grant you the rewards of playing dangerously."
"With life comes chances, and with chances comes two things: You can either not try, and regret playing safe for the rest of your life--or you can take that chance. You'll either lose, and the Gods will grant you a small amount of wisdom from your mistakes-- or you'll succeed, and the Gods will grant you the rewards of playing dangerously."
. : Name : .
Cerylia Tiballa Dwynwen
/ Sa-rye-lee-a / - / Te-ball-a / - / D-whine-when /
. : Date of Birth : .
Prekius 10th
/ 97 years old \
\ Dragonfly /
. : Place of Birth : .
Vardarianna-Oronti, Shegura
. : Gender : .
Female
. : Species / Racial Origin : .
Alozahnì
. : Sexual Preference : .
Unknown
"To me, love isn't something exactly defined by a physical aspect. Instead, it is something that only Edia can foresee, something only Ysmir or Aelia could create. It is beauty, though it is also a battlefield that not even Vunatis himself can conquer. It is as eternal as Dralno, and yet as unforgiving as Xabton. It is something you are able to find, yet also something so easily overlooked that it can be lost forever. That is love."
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. : Social Class / Community Status : .
The daughter of the village shaman, it's only natural that Cerylia is well known within the community. Like her father, she is constantly spending time in the village, doing anything from telling the younger villagers stories to helping the local doctor gather herbs. She tries her best to keep everybody content, but she doesn't allow herself to be used. Helping is one thing, but having everybody become solely dependent on her would be catastrophic.
. : Language : .
Cerylia is bilingual, being raised with both the Tarian and Ardaric languages (although she prefers Tarian much more). She's been learning Jorgethi for a few years in preparation for becoming the next tribe leader--however, she's not very well-spoken in the language.
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. : Family / Friends / Pets / Etc : .
Sorcha Celia Dwynwen - "My mother, who committed a crime so heinous not even father will speak of it. She was executed not long after my birth, or so I've been told."
Zephyr Gawain Dwynwen - "My father, the village shaman. He raised me to become his successor, to lead our tribe to new heights. He's wise, charitable, and above all--he's extremely prideful of our traditions. It's no wonder he refuses to accept my coming-of-age ceremony--he's just too stubborn!"
Rein Wynd - "My primary mentor, who used to teach (and to a certain degree, raise) me along with his claimed when Father was too busy. Unfortunately, she died shortly after my 20th year of birth-- leaving Rein in a constant state of nostalgic grief for about thirty years. He's now constantly thanking me for helping him 'get out of a slump', although I'm unsure as to what he means. I don't think he realizes how grateful I am to him, though- for it's because of him I became so adept with the bow."
Merai Wynd - "My secondary mentor, who taught me all about how to be a proper woman. She was...a beautiful dancer, and as such inspired me to follow her along the path of a dancer. Unfortunately, she died shortly after my 20th year of birth--but I like to think I'm honoring her through my dance."
. : Author Notes : .
My favorite part of this roleplay would have to be the actual world itself. With all of those diverse cultures, politics, and locations to explore...what's not to like?
My favorite part of this roleplay would have to be the actual world itself. With all of those diverse cultures, politics, and locations to explore...what's not to like?
Romahn
Captain
Zaki Anakahl
Give it a hundred percent. Then ten percent more.
P O N D
Name :
[ Zaki Anakhal ]
[ Zah - ka - eye Ahn-ah-khal ]
Date of Birth :
[ Juluhr 14th ]
[ Boar ]
Age :
[ 42 ]
[ Physically looks mid-20's ]
Place of Birth :
[ Shegura ]
Gender :
[ Female, but presents herself androgynously ]
Sexual Preference :
[ Bisexual ]
Racial Origin :
[ Wyvern ]
[ Mother was a Merus ]
[ Father was Elven ]
Social Class :
[ Pirate ]
Languages :
[ Ardaric is her mother tongue ]
[ Fluently speaks Tarien ]
[ Can manage broken conversational Jorgethi ]
Physical Description :
[ Zaki omits an air of command. In the way she carries herself, in the way she speaks, in the way she looks at others. She's exceptionally tall, almost hitting 6'0 and despite her more slender figure, you can see the muscles from years of hard work have toned her body handsomely. Her hair is long and reaches past her waist and even when at work she keeps it down to cover sharp, knife shaped ears. Her skin is naturally fair but tanned from laboring under the sun and never blemishes, her features strong and her eyes are monolid. Her voice is not so much deep as it is soulful and commanding. When looking at others her eyes spark up, as if she's analyzing them. Zaki's brows tend to be always slightly furrowed, as if she's in constant thought.
Her typical, casual outfit is a loose white cloth shirt under a long leather coat, tight coarse pants and worn knee high boots. She likes to wear her captain's hat because she feels it completes the look. For work, she wears her armor set which is fashioned in traditional Sheguran fashion. Besides a noticeable round plate necklace, Zaki rarely wears jewelry, leaving pedantry to fancier occasions. She carries a scimitar she calls Baby on her at all times, it's silver hilt not especially embedded with any priceless gems but the make of it is very fine, never dulling. ]
Height :
[ About 6'0 ]
Weight :
[ 148 ]
Hair :
[ Black ]
Eyes :
[ Grey ]
Limb Dexterity :
[ Extremely flexible, like a dancer ]
L A K E
Personality :
[ Zaki is the type of person who, when she walks into a room, commands the attention of everyone present. Something in the way she looks at people, in the way she talks and carries herself omits confidence; radiates power. She's level-headed, but intimidating. The serious sort, who always has something going on in her head. When dealing with others she ironically honest for a pirate, preferring to deal with things head-on rather than sneak around them. It earns her credibility and respect in her line of work. She doesn't believe in honor amongst thieves, she's not so naive as to trust in others blindly, but her more maternal side pushes her to stick her neck out for those she's in charge of even when they don't deserve it. She's rational, but has the type of stubborn optimism that makes a good leader.
She doesn't care much for social norms, being a pirate, and rather enjoys deviations. ]
Attitude :
[ She likes to have people under her, to take care of as well as lead. Very maternal, in her own way. Easily likable, efficient, dependable. She's worked for everything she has and won't let anyone take it from her. ]
Skills :
>Navigation
>Command
>Multilingual
>Charismatic
Ambitions :
> She wants to be someone history won't forget.
> Find the Treasure
Strengths :
>Resourceful
>Efficient
>Dependable
>Respectable
>Intelligent
>Magnetic
>Charismatic
Weaknesses :
>Stubborn
>Cares too much
>Overthinks
>Spiteful
>Carnal
Liable to
>Arrogance
>Egocentricity
>Short-temper
Fears :
>Failure
>Not being able to protect those under her
>Confined Spaces
>Captivity
>Weakness
>Everyone seeing who she is under her mask of confidence
Regular Routine :
[ In the mornings when she awakens, she jumps straight into hygiene. Zaki sleeps naked, finding sleeping clothes suffocating. She doesn't bother fixing her bed because that's what cabin boys are for. Despite respecting the whole pirate aesthetic some of her crew insist on, she pushes for everyone to at least brush their teeth in the mornings so she leads by example. Her hair doesn't tangle so she doesn't bother brushing it, washes herself off if possible, and changes into her work clothes and her hat. Most days it's settling the day-to-day business on her ship, making sure supplies aren't running low and consulting with the navigator that they're rightly on course to their next loot. ]
Attitude Towards Death :
[ Hates it. Spits at the thought of it. She's very antagonistic in her relationship with dying, and refuses to give into it's grips until she's done with what she has to do on the mortal plane. Then, she can rest easy. ]
Religion :
[ She isn't fond of religion, but she's intimately familiar with Dralno and frowns on it. She believes in things she can feel, touch, hear, smell. Sizona is the closest thing she comes to worshipping, and even then the use of the term is loose, more like acknowledging it for having some sort of divine power. She is fond of Lazroel because of her upbringing in Shegura, but respects it more than she practices it. ]
Fetishes :
[ None, although she finds Khaddorians remarkably attractive ]
Sexual Experience & Values :
[ She's tried almost everything in the book with one partner or another. Zaki is a far cry from a prude and a life that leads from one port to another leaves room for a lot of exploration. Some might even say she goes out of her way to be sexual at times, and it does make her feel more grounded in who she is. That said, she doesn't like forming intimate long-term relationships, and avoids strings being attached to sex. ]
Education :
[ Learned her craft from a pirate who took her under his wing. She can read and write in Ardaric and Tarien, but has little technical training in anything else. ]
Type of Residence:
[ Her ship's cabin mostly, when not docked at a port, then she treats herself if she can ]
Occupation:
[ Captain ]
Place of Work:
[ Her ship, the Avariel ]
Past Occupations:
> Dock Worker
> Slave
> Sex Worker
> Thief
S E A
To tell Zaki's tale, we must go back.
Back to her mother's mother's mother, back all the way to the Goddess Edia, patron of Oracles, to her birth in the land of the East. For from her stemmed the Merus; virginal women- almost Elven in their purity. It is ironic then that her fate is so intimately entwined with the deity who rolls the dice.
Zaki's mother, Vhalor, had been young, beautiful, but most importantly she had been devote. In all her preaching, in all her worship, down on her knees, up on a pedestal, she was exemplary. The Merus were obsessed to an extent with the possibility of tapping into Edia's powers of fortune. They did not involve themselves with the political because they did not concern themselves with the now. Their eyes were as closed as they were open, in a sense. Perhaps it was their connection to Sizona and its magical prowess that allowed them to see what they saw, do what they did. Zaki never really found out.
On their annual voyage to Shegura, Vhalor traveled with her sister to the Eastern continent to worship the birth of Edia, so wonderful and wise. It was there she met an elven man, one of the cult's escorts on their way to praise. Built slender but steady, with eyes that glimmered like obsidian with mystery and mischief. He had seemed to her then so divinely made that he put Edia to shame.
That blasphemy was the start of all their problems.
Vhalor would escape prayer to speak with him, would make excuses to her sisters to meet him in strange, foreign Sheguran groves. They would talk endlessly- about life, about their perspectives on religion, on purpose. He would speak of his ambitions, she would speak of her sisters. He would talk of his home, she would indulge him with stories of hers. He would come to profess his adoration, his love of her beauty and complexity, 'Fairer than Dydva, and over my heart you have more sway than Dralno does the heavens,' he would tease her, but the way those eyes shone showed no ill intent. It only revealed a man desperate at her feet.
Of course she loved him back.
And made it too, several times. Her sisters never spoke of her strange behavior, out of respect for her perhaps. She was the best of them. Then it was time to leave, to say goodbye. How could she be expected to pick between her duty and his tenderness? But a lifetime of living under the Merus won out in the end, she could not leave her sisters, she could not renounce her obligation to Edia. He had only bitterness at her decision, soured by her betrayal and had refused to part with fondness as friends.
The seed of consequence took root in her womb shortly after. It did not take her long to realize she was with child. She should have listened, how could she have done what she did? Lay with a man? Did a man not ruin Edia, rape her like she was something to be owned? The guilt ate at Vhalor for days, she wouldn't be able to keep the secret for long. One of her sisters finally intercepted- they had all noticed how she had been acting lately, but it was Nakamb who drew the conclusions, who intercepted.
'You are with child,' she had stated, a nod from Vhalor was the confirmation. Pity filled Nakamb, a sense of sympathy for the woman who had once stood so proudly. 'Oh Vhalor,' Vhalor's sobs couldn't be contained as the woman embraced her, 'What do I do? What can I possibly do? I have disgraced myself, shamed us all, profaned Edia... I deserve death,'
'If you deserve death for convieving a child I loath to think what the women who are not Merus must suffer,' Nakamb assured,
'You will persevere, as Dydva did. As Edia did. As all women must do.'
'How?'
'Trust me.'
And Vhalor did. Nakamb made sure that her and Vhalor were selected for isolated extensive prayer, a tradition that separated the women from the rest of their sisters to a temple on the borders of Shegura to fast and reflect for a year. After that, they would be considered Elders, who were more leaders than necessarily older women. It was convenient, perfect. The Elders had been overjoyed that Vhalor had finally decided to take on the duty. All that Vhalor felt like she was taking on was shame. She birthed the child at the temple, Nakamb serving diligently as the midwife through the screams and the blood.
Zaki. Zaki. Zaki.
Zaki Anakhal.
It meant divine calamity in Tarien.
Vhalor and Nakamb went on to hide the child in a shed-home hastily built, taking turns nursing the child after they returned to the Merus as Elders. 'We all have our secrets,' Nakamb would assure Vhalor. It didn't comfort her. Zaki, although looked after sufficiently as a babe, was left more and more to her own devices as she grew older. 'Never leave the shed. Never stray. If you are found, you doom us.' Vhalor would hiss. She was not kind to Zaki. Nakamb was better, but took on too many duties to cover for Vhalor to be a dutiful parent.
It made Zaki self-reliant, independent, and.. distant. It was hard not knowing parental warmth as a child, not knowing the full story but knowing well enough she was not wanted. She taught herself to read and write through the books Nakamb would sneak to her, and the basics of the religion were force-fed to her with what little time Vhalor spent with the child. It was not good living, but it was safe. It helped that her half elven heritage sped her maturity rate- by the time she was 5 she looked double her age. But there are no secrets time does not reveal.
How exactly the Elders found out about it could never be surely known. Upon years of reflection, Zaki theorized it was her sizona, increasingly obvious with age and easily detectable using whatever magics the Merus used. Not that it mattered- at the end of the day her mother was disgraced, expelled, stripped of all her standing with the cult and exiled. Left homeless to wander. Vhalor protected Nakamb and her dear friends involvement was never discovered.
Vhalor and Zaki traveled east to Shegura, in search of her father. However, no matter how high or low they searched he would not be found. Dead, perhaps. Vhalor never knew him enough to base her search on anything substantial, and the fact tore at her. Six years and she had been left with the burden of a dalliance that ruined her life.
Zaki was only a child, she didn't understand the implications. She only knew her mother was wrought with rage, feeling naked and exposed to the world in a way Zaki then could never wrap her head around. Vhalor took it out on the child, the result of her sin. Hit her, yelled at her, forced her to work for food or shelter. When kind strangers asked her about her bruises, she'd have to laugh it off and say she got into a fight. They bought that, with the looks of her. All dirt and grime- later in life Zaki would detest the feeling to her core, making her an exceptionally hygienic person. Later on, the dirty looks others gave her combined with racist slurs- 'Hafling', 'Mutt', 'Knife-Ear'. Elves saw her as less on principal. Valekians saw her as a disgrace. She would grow out her hair to cover her ears.
One day, Zaki came to the hostel room she shared with her mother after working in the docks only to find her mother exchanging coins with a Valekian man. Her mother turned to her, smiled, and said 'Ah, there she is,' and the child knew instantly there was something wrong. The Valekian man had asked her to come forward, but the look in his eyes, the shadow over her mothers face and.. something else, something instinctual that told her there was something wrong made her run. She didn't get far before she grabbed by one of the Valekian man's goons and thrown in binds. Vhalor had sold her into slavery, maybe to pay some debts or buy a ticket out of there but it didn't matter.
The years after that were blurry. Most of the time she had been slightly drugged in order to throw off her defenses. She remembered being forced to work at a whore-house as a helper or.. well, everything else you do at a whore-house. She remembered the feeling of being trapped, of having nowhere to run to, of the choking scent of incense and perfume and sex. She was 15 when she escaped; the drugs just weren't as effective anymore and she saw an opportunity and took it.
After that, everything was comparatively brighter. She became a thief in some port, stayed in Shegura because something in her bound her to her homeland. Zaki was good at being a thief. She had a sharp mind and clever fingers. Sometimes, she would do jobs for rich folk who needed shiny things in hard to get places. Those paid well and she never got caught. Made quite a reputation for herself too in the monstrous underbelly of the city; if you wanted something stolen you went to Anakhal.
That's how she met Jolir, a giant man of a Khaddorian. The sly cat had presented himself to her that day simply as 'I'm Jolir, a pirate captain, I need somethin' robbed.' with a heavy Khauran accent and furrowed brows that amused her so much it convinced the Wyvern to take up the job immediately. She didn't even bother what she was stealing or how much he was going to pay her, which was probably the greatest blessing she could have asked for. He had only told her where to go, in what room it was, and advised precaution. 'What does it look like?' she inquired, 'You'll know.'
That was good enough for her.
In the end it had turned out to be a map hidden in a sort of golden cylinder. Zaki had nearly died a total of 4 times by time she was out of the labyrinth of a castle with it in hand. Jolir had immediately confessed to her afterwards it had been meant to be a sort of test. 'You see,' he had continued with that same southern dialect, slightly encroaching on her space to the point where they were breathing the same air. 'I could use someone like you.'
Perhaps it is reasonable to say that was that. Zaki became a sort of apprentice to Jolir, admiring him greatly both professionally and, on the rare occasion, in bed. But he was always more of a mentor or a brother of sorts to her. No one else could have convinced her to pry herself from Shegura in search of some great treasure and adventure other than Jolir. He taught her to find her sea legs, and her place in the world. In a way he was the first person to ever give a shit about her.
Jolir died a few years back from a stab to the gut from some Valekian asshole with a grudge. Zaki took control of the ship- mostly out of force than popular vote- and hunted the man down in a matter of weeks and got the crew their revenge. Kept the sword, named it Baby after the last owner. They respected her heavily after that. Taking the wheel from Jolir molded her into someone more responsible, more like the current Zaki. However, if killing Jolir's murderer earned her their respect, it's been hunting down his treasure that earned her their admiration.
The map he had her steal has been the source of a chase that's lasted nearly a decade. But they're close, Zaki can feel it. In-between it they've made their money taking down Valekian gold ships or raiding rival pirates. Her ultimate goal, however, is the treasure. The Fountain of Edia.
Back to her mother's mother's mother, back all the way to the Goddess Edia, patron of Oracles, to her birth in the land of the East. For from her stemmed the Merus; virginal women- almost Elven in their purity. It is ironic then that her fate is so intimately entwined with the deity who rolls the dice.
Zaki's mother, Vhalor, had been young, beautiful, but most importantly she had been devote. In all her preaching, in all her worship, down on her knees, up on a pedestal, she was exemplary. The Merus were obsessed to an extent with the possibility of tapping into Edia's powers of fortune. They did not involve themselves with the political because they did not concern themselves with the now. Their eyes were as closed as they were open, in a sense. Perhaps it was their connection to Sizona and its magical prowess that allowed them to see what they saw, do what they did. Zaki never really found out.
On their annual voyage to Shegura, Vhalor traveled with her sister to the Eastern continent to worship the birth of Edia, so wonderful and wise. It was there she met an elven man, one of the cult's escorts on their way to praise. Built slender but steady, with eyes that glimmered like obsidian with mystery and mischief. He had seemed to her then so divinely made that he put Edia to shame.
That blasphemy was the start of all their problems.
Vhalor would escape prayer to speak with him, would make excuses to her sisters to meet him in strange, foreign Sheguran groves. They would talk endlessly- about life, about their perspectives on religion, on purpose. He would speak of his ambitions, she would speak of her sisters. He would talk of his home, she would indulge him with stories of hers. He would come to profess his adoration, his love of her beauty and complexity, 'Fairer than Dydva, and over my heart you have more sway than Dralno does the heavens,' he would tease her, but the way those eyes shone showed no ill intent. It only revealed a man desperate at her feet.
Of course she loved him back.
And made it too, several times. Her sisters never spoke of her strange behavior, out of respect for her perhaps. She was the best of them. Then it was time to leave, to say goodbye. How could she be expected to pick between her duty and his tenderness? But a lifetime of living under the Merus won out in the end, she could not leave her sisters, she could not renounce her obligation to Edia. He had only bitterness at her decision, soured by her betrayal and had refused to part with fondness as friends.
The seed of consequence took root in her womb shortly after. It did not take her long to realize she was with child. She should have listened, how could she have done what she did? Lay with a man? Did a man not ruin Edia, rape her like she was something to be owned? The guilt ate at Vhalor for days, she wouldn't be able to keep the secret for long. One of her sisters finally intercepted- they had all noticed how she had been acting lately, but it was Nakamb who drew the conclusions, who intercepted.
'You are with child,' she had stated, a nod from Vhalor was the confirmation. Pity filled Nakamb, a sense of sympathy for the woman who had once stood so proudly. 'Oh Vhalor,' Vhalor's sobs couldn't be contained as the woman embraced her, 'What do I do? What can I possibly do? I have disgraced myself, shamed us all, profaned Edia... I deserve death,'
'If you deserve death for convieving a child I loath to think what the women who are not Merus must suffer,' Nakamb assured,
'You will persevere, as Dydva did. As Edia did. As all women must do.'
'How?'
'Trust me.'
And Vhalor did. Nakamb made sure that her and Vhalor were selected for isolated extensive prayer, a tradition that separated the women from the rest of their sisters to a temple on the borders of Shegura to fast and reflect for a year. After that, they would be considered Elders, who were more leaders than necessarily older women. It was convenient, perfect. The Elders had been overjoyed that Vhalor had finally decided to take on the duty. All that Vhalor felt like she was taking on was shame. She birthed the child at the temple, Nakamb serving diligently as the midwife through the screams and the blood.
Zaki. Zaki. Zaki.
Zaki Anakhal.
It meant divine calamity in Tarien.
Vhalor and Nakamb went on to hide the child in a shed-home hastily built, taking turns nursing the child after they returned to the Merus as Elders. 'We all have our secrets,' Nakamb would assure Vhalor. It didn't comfort her. Zaki, although looked after sufficiently as a babe, was left more and more to her own devices as she grew older. 'Never leave the shed. Never stray. If you are found, you doom us.' Vhalor would hiss. She was not kind to Zaki. Nakamb was better, but took on too many duties to cover for Vhalor to be a dutiful parent.
It made Zaki self-reliant, independent, and.. distant. It was hard not knowing parental warmth as a child, not knowing the full story but knowing well enough she was not wanted. She taught herself to read and write through the books Nakamb would sneak to her, and the basics of the religion were force-fed to her with what little time Vhalor spent with the child. It was not good living, but it was safe. It helped that her half elven heritage sped her maturity rate- by the time she was 5 she looked double her age. But there are no secrets time does not reveal.
How exactly the Elders found out about it could never be surely known. Upon years of reflection, Zaki theorized it was her sizona, increasingly obvious with age and easily detectable using whatever magics the Merus used. Not that it mattered- at the end of the day her mother was disgraced, expelled, stripped of all her standing with the cult and exiled. Left homeless to wander. Vhalor protected Nakamb and her dear friends involvement was never discovered.
Vhalor and Zaki traveled east to Shegura, in search of her father. However, no matter how high or low they searched he would not be found. Dead, perhaps. Vhalor never knew him enough to base her search on anything substantial, and the fact tore at her. Six years and she had been left with the burden of a dalliance that ruined her life.
Zaki was only a child, she didn't understand the implications. She only knew her mother was wrought with rage, feeling naked and exposed to the world in a way Zaki then could never wrap her head around. Vhalor took it out on the child, the result of her sin. Hit her, yelled at her, forced her to work for food or shelter. When kind strangers asked her about her bruises, she'd have to laugh it off and say she got into a fight. They bought that, with the looks of her. All dirt and grime- later in life Zaki would detest the feeling to her core, making her an exceptionally hygienic person. Later on, the dirty looks others gave her combined with racist slurs- 'Hafling', 'Mutt', 'Knife-Ear'. Elves saw her as less on principal. Valekians saw her as a disgrace. She would grow out her hair to cover her ears.
One day, Zaki came to the hostel room she shared with her mother after working in the docks only to find her mother exchanging coins with a Valekian man. Her mother turned to her, smiled, and said 'Ah, there she is,' and the child knew instantly there was something wrong. The Valekian man had asked her to come forward, but the look in his eyes, the shadow over her mothers face and.. something else, something instinctual that told her there was something wrong made her run. She didn't get far before she grabbed by one of the Valekian man's goons and thrown in binds. Vhalor had sold her into slavery, maybe to pay some debts or buy a ticket out of there but it didn't matter.
The years after that were blurry. Most of the time she had been slightly drugged in order to throw off her defenses. She remembered being forced to work at a whore-house as a helper or.. well, everything else you do at a whore-house. She remembered the feeling of being trapped, of having nowhere to run to, of the choking scent of incense and perfume and sex. She was 15 when she escaped; the drugs just weren't as effective anymore and she saw an opportunity and took it.
After that, everything was comparatively brighter. She became a thief in some port, stayed in Shegura because something in her bound her to her homeland. Zaki was good at being a thief. She had a sharp mind and clever fingers. Sometimes, she would do jobs for rich folk who needed shiny things in hard to get places. Those paid well and she never got caught. Made quite a reputation for herself too in the monstrous underbelly of the city; if you wanted something stolen you went to Anakhal.
That's how she met Jolir, a giant man of a Khaddorian. The sly cat had presented himself to her that day simply as 'I'm Jolir, a pirate captain, I need somethin' robbed.' with a heavy Khauran accent and furrowed brows that amused her so much it convinced the Wyvern to take up the job immediately. She didn't even bother what she was stealing or how much he was going to pay her, which was probably the greatest blessing she could have asked for. He had only told her where to go, in what room it was, and advised precaution. 'What does it look like?' she inquired, 'You'll know.'
That was good enough for her.
In the end it had turned out to be a map hidden in a sort of golden cylinder. Zaki had nearly died a total of 4 times by time she was out of the labyrinth of a castle with it in hand. Jolir had immediately confessed to her afterwards it had been meant to be a sort of test. 'You see,' he had continued with that same southern dialect, slightly encroaching on her space to the point where they were breathing the same air. 'I could use someone like you.'
Perhaps it is reasonable to say that was that. Zaki became a sort of apprentice to Jolir, admiring him greatly both professionally and, on the rare occasion, in bed. But he was always more of a mentor or a brother of sorts to her. No one else could have convinced her to pry herself from Shegura in search of some great treasure and adventure other than Jolir. He taught her to find her sea legs, and her place in the world. In a way he was the first person to ever give a shit about her.
Jolir died a few years back from a stab to the gut from some Valekian asshole with a grudge. Zaki took control of the ship- mostly out of force than popular vote- and hunted the man down in a matter of weeks and got the crew their revenge. Kept the sword, named it Baby after the last owner. They respected her heavily after that. Taking the wheel from Jolir molded her into someone more responsible, more like the current Zaki. However, if killing Jolir's murderer earned her their respect, it's been hunting down his treasure that earned her their admiration.
The map he had her steal has been the source of a chase that's lasted nearly a decade. But they're close, Zaki can feel it. In-between it they've made their money taking down Valekian gold ships or raiding rival pirates. Her ultimate goal, however, is the treasure. The Fountain of Edia.
Trivia :
>She speaks with a strong Sheguran accent, no matter the language
>Not very vulgar, for a pirate, although a curse or two slips out every now and then
>Short term goals: keep herself and her crew afloat
>Long term goals: the treasure
>As a Pirate and a Captain at that she takes great pride in her hat
>She's relatively social with others, sometimes observing and sometimes taking the initiative to push things in the direction she wants them to go, mostly for her advantage
>She can't stand racist bigots, she'll sooner slice their throat herself than deal with being called a knife-ear by some egoistical Valekian
>Gets along best with Khaddorians, probably because she's not related to any of them
>Very tight-lipped about her past and snaps if people push to bring it up
>She doesn't want to be forgotten, she wants to matter to people desperately but keeps it on the downlow
Author Notes: My favorite aspect of this roleplay honestly is the lore, I'm itching to get my fingers involved in a meaty lore-stuffed fantasy roleplay and you seem to have a lot of passion and dedication for it so I'm excited![/SIZE]
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Furasian
New Member
Excluding the magic, but people are free to teach him!
Philosophy of Life:
"A guardian's goal is not to return home, but make sure those he swears to protect make it home... That is what defines a true guardian."
Basics
Name (&Pronunciation):
Ansen Leegot (An-sen Lee-got)
Date of Birth (&Age):
May 5th (23)
Place of Birth:
Tauren Farmland
Gender:
M
Sexual Preference:
Straight
Species/Racial Origin:
Khaddorian
Social Class/ Community Status:
Middle Class ((Military))
Language:
Primary Language:
Jorgethi
Secondary Language:
Ardaric ((His knowledge of the language has developed over the course of his military career. It has helped him very well when communicating with foreign merchants/adventurers most of the time))
Family/Friends/Pets/Etc:
Father: Rajj Leegot
Mother: Kai Leegot((*Missing*))
Physical Description
(please follow the norm of each race. For exemptions, ask me first)
Height:
7' 08"
Weight:
235 lbs
Hair/fur:
Brownish tan ((Flat Dark Earth))
Eyes:
Yellow on Black
Limb Dexterity:
Above Racial Average- Excessive training along with his racial advantages has made Ansen more quick and agile. It wouldn't help him as a ranger if he were just as fast as a typical Khaddorian
Detailed Physical Description:
Ansen Leegot would almost maintain the typical image of an active Khaddorian. With a medium build that is not one that would bring shame to him the young man stands with pride regardless of the circumstance. It is hard to find him with his confidence and will broken to the point where even a untrained eye could see it.
With his cloak concealing most of his features, the Khaddorian despite his young age carries his proof of combat. On his left arm Ansen carries the remnants of a slash injury that has now developed into nothing more than a light patch of fur surrounding the wound that is now a rather fresh scar. The scar is the only significant feature that Ansen carries.
Despite his constant isolation from society during his deployment the Khaddorian does well maintaining a rather clean image. Like many other soldiers that come from a high standard he does what he can in order to keep his fur clean and neat. The only time a speck of fur will be out of line is during a serious situation or a fight.
Typical Clothing/Equipment:
During his travels outside his hometown whether answering a call to action or simply venturing beyond the boundaries of the plains Ansen religiously carries many things around in order to address any issue that might arise when you are in the wilderness without help being within shouting distance. When it comes to apparel he wears a set of leather armor, crafted and reinforced by the outfitters that shape the uniforms and armor that the Tauren military carry today. It is what he has trained with and fought with to this day, but it is always subject to change like anything else. His armor or clothing is usually concealed beneath a hooded cloak that has been dyed a dash of dark green so to help him conceal himself in the Khauran vegetation. It might not do him well in other regions, but he still prefers to keep it clipped around his neck with the hood up wherever he goes. That same rule applies to a golden ring that he wears on his left ring finger. To those who are aware of the Tauren social norms that ring is the equivalent to a soldier's insignia or a officer's badge. To loose it would be very discouraging for the young ranger.
When it is needed the Khaddorian also carries a set of commoner clothes in his travel backpack. The travel backpack contains a few other necessities as well such as:
Sharpening Stone
Sewing Kit
3x rolled ointment bandages
1x 90 foot rope
5 pages of parchment
1 ink vial and feather
1 bedroll *Tied to the outer side of the bag*
1 Flint and iron bar ((Fire!))
It would be foolish to say the ranger wasn't armed. He is trained in a variety of weapons but mainly carries a short sword, a 8' knife, and a recurve bow and arrow. Unlike traditional warriors the ranger keeps his swords on his back with the handles on his right shoulder blade for quick access, the strap trailing from his right shoulder to his left hip with the quiver of arrows crossing over the sheathed weapons. Between the quiver and the swords is where one will find his bow sheathe, the bow's upper crook angled over his left shoulder with it's strap positioning opposite of the swords. The 8 inch knife which typically is a tool or a last resort can be found just above the base of his tail. All weapons except the knife are pulled over the cloak, meaning they aren't concealed one bit.
Personality/Attributes
Personality/Attitude: Ansen has grown to what many people would say a "white knight in a dark world." That being said he has indeed developed a mindset that was greatly influenced by his close family and his military career. Ansen is a warrior and will not hesitate to stand for his better judgement even if the odds are against him.
To those who have had the opportunity to meet him in the wilderness they'll find that he is cautious yet caring to those he comes across. The same Khaddorian that will wrap a bandage around one's open wound would not even hesitate to draw a blade on those under his care until his trust his bought. Once that bridge of trust is built, the ranger will go through great length for those close to him.
He'll fight for the innocent, he'll die for his friend. Ansen is indeed a stubborn one during a combative situation. When beaten down he is defiant, when victorious he will conduct himself according to his discretion. One might be able to fool Ansen with the 'mercy' card, but they'll have to be quick if they wish to exploit that vulnerability when they do.
Beneath all of that is a troubled past event, one that will take a lot of prying in order to even convince Ansen to speak of that said event. Away from the eyes of friends and strangers the young man reveals a more troubled nature, one that is at conflict to this day.
Skills/Talents:
Archery- The bow and arrow are a ranger's bread and butter, Ansen is a proficient bowman.
Swords ((one handed))- Basic training and past experiences have helped sharpened the Khaddorian's swords, but he is no master.
First Aid- To start bleeding and start breathing, with one hand he can save a life and the other he can take a life.
Sewing and weapon maintenance- A soldier must maintain his blades as well as his uniform!
Ranger- He is a ranger. His training along with his experience in the wilderness have helped him become enduring beyond the reach of civilization. He is more able to be on alert, even when pushed to his limits. Ansen is indeed a godsend when someone has to do night watch.
Favorites/Likes:
Peace
Green environments ((woods, plains, grasslands, etc.))
Honorable deeds
Most Hated/Dislikes:
Chaos
Lost of control
Prejudice
Goals/Ambitions:
Personal- Long ago Ansen lost his mother. He can barely remember her face... But her voice haunts him to this day. Some day he will go looking for answers, but deep inside he hopes he could hear her reassuring voice while being in her warm embrace one more time.
Duty- As a warrior and a soldier Ansen maintains an oath to protect those around him. That oath is his mission, and one of his greatest ambitions.
Strengths:
Calm under pressure- Even when it's hell on earth Ansen remains cool. There are some things though that still can make him 'black out'
Attention to Detail- The ranger keeps attention to detail. If it's out of order he usually is first to know.
Weaknesses:
Merciful- Ansen follows a rule of engagement. On a code of honor he will not execute a surrendering combatant. A clever opponent could exploit that weakness to their advantage.
Stubborn- It has its strengths and weakness. In this case failure can weigh heavily on the Khaddorian's shoulders. Loosing a comrade, being forced to retreat, etc. Like any soldier it is hard to retreat without being given the order. Only those he trust can make him back down from a fight.
Fears:
Defeat- Every soldier thinks of it, the potential danger of defeat. Every day Ansen fears the coming of his defeat.. Could he still be able to hold his head up high when down on his knees? If someone close to him dies, can he continue pressing on?
Captivity- A more natural fear. Almost every ranger find himself working alone.. There is usually nobody coming when a ranger calls for help. What if he did get captured? Would he perhaps follow the same path to slavery like his mother did?
Hobbies/Interests:
Reading- During downtime if there's a book around he'll probably try and get a good read in. He's read a lot of genres form romance to epics
Smoking- Hookah, pipe, or just even a blunt of something, the Khaddorian is an occasional smoker.
Regular Routine: He is a military man. He wakes up whenever it's time to do his part, then goes straight to work. When it comes to his sleep schedule there is no day and night for the young ranger. There is a civilian side to Ansen though. On days where he is home or perhaps in a tavern without worrying about the dangers beyond the walls the Khaddorian typically wakes up late, around lunch time. He'll sleep in if he is able to, unless a schedule is made that tells him otherwise. As a result of that he might occasionally miss breakfast, which is fine with him.
If there's a priority task whithin a group he'll typically volunteer if it is within his scope. If there is down time though his first to do after eating is working on his gear. Making sure the blades are sharp and the arrows are plenty, Ansen is always wanting to be prepared.
On his own he'll typically do different things depending on the downtime he has. He might go to a tavern to get a drink, or even sleep some more. Regardless, you'll probably find him back in his room once the sun is down unless he gets caught up in something.
Attitude Towards Death:
Ansen hasn't really thought much on the inevitable end. Thanks to his training he is a rather reckless individual and is willing to throw his life on the line more frequently than the average Khaddorian. A soldier can die, but gods forbid a citizen dying...
Religion/Beliefs:
The ranger is no man of gods so to speak. You usually won't find him attending the local temple on a weekly basis or carry a holy scripture on his person . While he does believe in an afterlife and a deity, the exposure to many cultures has put Ansen in a sort of 'religious identity crisis,' one that is not really a priority to him.
Fetishes/Strange Behaviors:
On the sexual side of things there is necessarily nothing out of the ordinary due to a lack of exposure. However when it comes to habits that are out of the norm the withdrawal from the safety of civilization has brought about some strange behaviors in the Khaddorian. At times Ansen can find it rather difficult to not maintain that soldier's image and in some cases it is difficult for him to relax or be at ease. His low standards are also strange in the eyes of many. Sometimes he sleeps on the side of the road to save some coin instead of renting a bed.
Most Instructive/Painful/Memorable Experience:
Aside from his on-duty injury Ansen can still recall the day he heard the news of his mother's disappearance. That moment has troubled him to this day, and becomes one of his few aspirations.
Sexual Experience/Values: A very shy side of him, Ansen has never really been exposed to such experiences. Like many young military men on constant deployment he can only hear about it, but never really experience it. One that might approach him in a rather 'heated' manner might quickly get a very hesitant and flustered Khaddorian as a result...
Education/Special Training:
Basic Education- In a civilized society Ansen has had the privilege of learning basic education.
Tauren Ranger Training- One of the most rigorous and difficult fields, the ranger training process is indeed the primary source of Ansen's skillset.
Place/Type of Residence: Campsite- It is rare for Ansen to have the privilege of being stationed in a area where he could occupy a cabin. He's usually moving around from campsites and sleeping wherever shelter is available. If available he will prefer to sleep in a barracks where safety is usually guaranteed.
Occupation: Tauren Ranger
Place of Work: Everchanging, he works where ever his superiors place him.
Work-related Skills: **Refer to Skills/Talents**
Past Occupations: Full time Student
Memberships: Tauren Armies ((Interchanging between branches))
Backstory/Biography
During a time of prosperity a young Tauren couple's paths crossed, two Khaddorians from different walks of life. A military father and a merchant mother who fell in love in the jungles under the night sky. After coming together the two found a home in the capital lands. There they'd raise a child who would be destined for greatness and tragedy. There a Khaddorian entered the world, one that was given the only thing nobody can take from him: the name Ansen Leegot.
Ansen was raised in a rather healthy environment, one that was without the worries of war or evil. Most problems were local or political, giving Ansen the opportunity to find himself and learn a set of skills from his parents and the education system that was put in place. It was a privileged life, one that would eventually come to an abrupt end.
Autumn was transitioning to Winter on Ansen's 16th year, the year when many boys cross over to adulthood. His father tended to the house at the time, expecting his mother to return. She didn't arrive the day she was expected to arrive. In her place though was a courier, one that carried a grave message. A Khaddorian caravan had been raided of its valuables before it could reach the Tauren border. Many women and children were kidnapped and potentially kept as slaves, while many of the guard fell against overwhelming odds. Ansen's mother was on the list of missing persons, a devastating discovery for the young man and his father.
That moment while tragic set the path for the young Khaddorian. He could have been a merchant, a teacher, anything, but during the following year Ansen turned to the only thing that suffered like he did: his father. At first his father protested against the idea, fearing that he'd loose Ansen in the unforgiving world that he had lived beyond the settlement that Ansen had been raised in. When all attempts to steer Ansen off the path he was on, the father finally gave in on one condition: Ansen will not pursue the whereabouts of his mother. The military was as safe as he can be when it came to carrying a sword in the wilderness. Ansen made that promise, one that would be the greatest barrier for him to cross when it comes to the journey to find his missing mother. He tries to not think about it, but his ambitions slowly gnaw on his soul, tempting him to go against his father's pleadings.
The following years shaped Ansen to be the man he is today. He went to training for evaluation. Once he got through his basic training Ansen achieved one of the greatest and most independent role: he became a ranger. With his assignment, Ansen became one of the few to go through the hell that was coming his way, and one of the very few to make it out. They molded him to be independent, to hit as hard as a battalion of soldiers, to adapt to an environment and turn it into his hunting grounds before the sun goes down on the first day, all while being alone and aware help won't come all the time.
He graduated around the age 21, being deployed in the unknown. Never had he fought a legitimate force, his only taste of combat being the skirmishes with bandits and insurgent groups in the area. Most of them were simple: he shows up, they run off. There was one encounter where things didn't go that way...
It was a summer, the sun being high in the sky. During a routine patrol Ansen encountered a caravan being stopped in the middle of his territory. At first glance it looked to be a holdup, all he had to do was intervene like he always did. Little did he know, someone else lurked in the surrounding woods, someone who saw him long before he realized what he was in for. He had time to survey the situation, to get the basic details, but he didn't have time to react when he heard something land behind him in his hiding spot. Even with his speed, the ranger was grabbed and tossed out of the vegetation he hid in before he could draw his weapon. The prompt removal from cover thrusted Ansen in the open, and the raiders quickly turned their attention to him. Something rose from where he had been grabbed, he could hear chuckling at first, but then he quickly discovered who his attacker was: It was another Khaddorian. He didn't know who this man was, or how he was able to move undetected. He simply glanced over Ansen as if sizing him up, then went over to the bandits who gave him a pouch of gold. With that the Khaddorian left, leaving the ranger with the other bandits.
He could only predict their intentions... In this world one could gain a profit from playing a good ransom game, or perhaps they'd try and force him into mercenary work. Whatever it was, he would be damned if he became the victim. He drew his blade, he used his training as best as he could. First a sword came at his front. He lifted his short sword to meet it, the clean metal grinding against one another for a brief moment as the ranger lifted the blades up between the two fighters and pushed into it, causing the two to lock in place. Even at the moment, Ansen was able to keep attention to detail. Any soldier can be pushed to the edge, but few could keep a clear mind with death looming over them. It was a gift that came from his training, a gift that would save him.
It felt like soo much time had passed, later on Ansen would find out the fight didn't even last a minute. All he could recall was the shift in the air to his right and the impulse to dig his feet in and quickly drive his blade against the sword that he had blocked, causing both him to push forward, and his opponent to stagger backwards. That split second he ducked, and a axe came whistling over his head. It wasn't over yet even with the danger evaded. Right after he ducked and the axe passed, a shadow was cast over Ansen to his left, meaning his third attacker was lifting something over the now down low Khaddorian. That demanded quick action, and without a second thought he lifted his free arm to glance the metal coming down on him. It was a sword, and it slashed through his flesh, but the angled bone made it glance down his arm, almost carving it like a turkey. There was no cry of pain, no agony. No, there was desperation, adrenaline had made Ansen already numb, and his eyes were almost primal. The blatant disregard for safety shocked the man to the left, and he didn't expect Ansen to follow through and slash at the man to his left. The strike connected, dragging down from a shoulder blade to an abdomen and leaving a wound in it's wake, one that was critical enough to knock the man back and loose his combative posture.
The others upon watching this happen quickly tried to pounce on the vulnerability by attacking at the same time. With the left side open though Ansen pushed himself up and dodged the sharp edges by the hair, his sword coming down and sweeping across his right to trip the man on the front. It was a fight or flight situation after that. As Ansen slowly turned to face the two now getting into formation he took in every bit of his surroundings during that twirl. If he retreated now, he could perhaps survive, but that meant the bandits would still be around and maybe even kidnap another passerby. He was in no condition to fight though, and it was a three versus one. Against everything he had stood for, he made the retreat.
To this day, though the assurances that he made the right tactical choice, the right move, Ansen longed to grab his bow and right his wrongs, to prove himself he was a capable ranger. After healing and waiting for what felt like an eternity, the young ranger will receive his assignment, and an opportunity to show his true colors once more. To this day he didn't know that fate had something greater in store for him.
During a time of prosperity a young Tauren couple's paths crossed, two Khaddorians from different walks of life. A military father and a merchant mother who fell in love in the jungles under the night sky. After coming together the two found a home in the capital lands. There they'd raise a child who would be destined for greatness and tragedy. There a Khaddorian entered the world, one that was given the only thing nobody can take from him: the name Ansen Leegot.
Ansen was raised in a rather healthy environment, one that was without the worries of war or evil. Most problems were local or political, giving Ansen the opportunity to find himself and learn a set of skills from his parents and the education system that was put in place. It was a privileged life, one that would eventually come to an abrupt end.
Autumn was transitioning to Winter on Ansen's 16th year, the year when many boys cross over to adulthood. His father tended to the house at the time, expecting his mother to return. She didn't arrive the day she was expected to arrive. In her place though was a courier, one that carried a grave message. A Khaddorian caravan had been raided of its valuables before it could reach the Tauren border. Many women and children were kidnapped and potentially kept as slaves, while many of the guard fell against overwhelming odds. Ansen's mother was on the list of missing persons, a devastating discovery for the young man and his father.
That moment while tragic set the path for the young Khaddorian. He could have been a merchant, a teacher, anything, but during the following year Ansen turned to the only thing that suffered like he did: his father. At first his father protested against the idea, fearing that he'd loose Ansen in the unforgiving world that he had lived beyond the settlement that Ansen had been raised in. When all attempts to steer Ansen off the path he was on, the father finally gave in on one condition: Ansen will not pursue the whereabouts of his mother. The military was as safe as he can be when it came to carrying a sword in the wilderness. Ansen made that promise, one that would be the greatest barrier for him to cross when it comes to the journey to find his missing mother. He tries to not think about it, but his ambitions slowly gnaw on his soul, tempting him to go against his father's pleadings.
The following years shaped Ansen to be the man he is today. He went to training for evaluation. Once he got through his basic training Ansen achieved one of the greatest and most independent role: he became a ranger. With his assignment, Ansen became one of the few to go through the hell that was coming his way, and one of the very few to make it out. They molded him to be independent, to hit as hard as a battalion of soldiers, to adapt to an environment and turn it into his hunting grounds before the sun goes down on the first day, all while being alone and aware help won't come all the time.
He graduated around the age 21, being deployed in the unknown. Never had he fought a legitimate force, his only taste of combat being the skirmishes with bandits and insurgent groups in the area. Most of them were simple: he shows up, they run off. There was one encounter where things didn't go that way...
It was a summer, the sun being high in the sky. During a routine patrol Ansen encountered a caravan being stopped in the middle of his territory. At first glance it looked to be a holdup, all he had to do was intervene like he always did. Little did he know, someone else lurked in the surrounding woods, someone who saw him long before he realized what he was in for. He had time to survey the situation, to get the basic details, but he didn't have time to react when he heard something land behind him in his hiding spot. Even with his speed, the ranger was grabbed and tossed out of the vegetation he hid in before he could draw his weapon. The prompt removal from cover thrusted Ansen in the open, and the raiders quickly turned their attention to him. Something rose from where he had been grabbed, he could hear chuckling at first, but then he quickly discovered who his attacker was: It was another Khaddorian. He didn't know who this man was, or how he was able to move undetected. He simply glanced over Ansen as if sizing him up, then went over to the bandits who gave him a pouch of gold. With that the Khaddorian left, leaving the ranger with the other bandits.
He could only predict their intentions... In this world one could gain a profit from playing a good ransom game, or perhaps they'd try and force him into mercenary work. Whatever it was, he would be damned if he became the victim. He drew his blade, he used his training as best as he could. First a sword came at his front. He lifted his short sword to meet it, the clean metal grinding against one another for a brief moment as the ranger lifted the blades up between the two fighters and pushed into it, causing the two to lock in place. Even at the moment, Ansen was able to keep attention to detail. Any soldier can be pushed to the edge, but few could keep a clear mind with death looming over them. It was a gift that came from his training, a gift that would save him.
It felt like soo much time had passed, later on Ansen would find out the fight didn't even last a minute. All he could recall was the shift in the air to his right and the impulse to dig his feet in and quickly drive his blade against the sword that he had blocked, causing both him to push forward, and his opponent to stagger backwards. That split second he ducked, and a axe came whistling over his head. It wasn't over yet even with the danger evaded. Right after he ducked and the axe passed, a shadow was cast over Ansen to his left, meaning his third attacker was lifting something over the now down low Khaddorian. That demanded quick action, and without a second thought he lifted his free arm to glance the metal coming down on him. It was a sword, and it slashed through his flesh, but the angled bone made it glance down his arm, almost carving it like a turkey. There was no cry of pain, no agony. No, there was desperation, adrenaline had made Ansen already numb, and his eyes were almost primal. The blatant disregard for safety shocked the man to the left, and he didn't expect Ansen to follow through and slash at the man to his left. The strike connected, dragging down from a shoulder blade to an abdomen and leaving a wound in it's wake, one that was critical enough to knock the man back and loose his combative posture.
The others upon watching this happen quickly tried to pounce on the vulnerability by attacking at the same time. With the left side open though Ansen pushed himself up and dodged the sharp edges by the hair, his sword coming down and sweeping across his right to trip the man on the front. It was a fight or flight situation after that. As Ansen slowly turned to face the two now getting into formation he took in every bit of his surroundings during that twirl. If he retreated now, he could perhaps survive, but that meant the bandits would still be around and maybe even kidnap another passerby. He was in no condition to fight though, and it was a three versus one. Against everything he had stood for, he made the retreat.
To this day, though the assurances that he made the right tactical choice, the right move, Ansen longed to grab his bow and right his wrongs, to prove himself he was a capable ranger. After healing and waiting for what felt like an eternity, the young ranger will receive his assignment, and an opportunity to show his true colors once more. To this day he didn't know that fate had something greater in store for him.
I get to play Khaddorian ^^ Unique races are always a + for me when deciding where to toss my hat.
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“I don’t need any words, actions are louder anyway.”
Basics
Name: Zonran (zohn-ran)
Nicknames: Zono – a shorter version of his name that his mentor came up with, so when there wasn’t much time he could quickly call him over. Zonran doesn’t like it at all, but it’s better than being called a brat.
Date of Birth (&Age): November 2nd (), 19
Place of Birth: northern Eorn mountain range
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Homosexual
Species/Racial Origin: Valekian/Khaddorian mix breed
Social Class/ Community Status: Outcast
Language: Jorgethi, Ardaric
Physical Description
Height: 7’3’’ (221 cm)
Weight: 225 Ibs (102 kg)
Detailed Physical Description:
Zonran’s an intimidating creature that no one would want to meet in the middle of the jungle at night.
The Khaddorian blood running through his veins was brought into his family 5 generations or so ago, never to be refreshed, yet still so strong. The obviously Khaddorian traits run along his whole body, giving away his heritage to any passer-by.
His face is framed by dirty blond hair, always cut short to stay away from his light reflecting deep golden eyes. His ears are positioned at the sides of his head, like any Valekians, but they are much bigger with greater maneuverability and are covered in black and white fur. His left one is also pierced with three golden earrings, while his mouth is filled with rather sharp teeth.
Zonran is much taller than an average Valekian and a lot bulkier, preferring brute strength over flexibility. His tan skin is decorated in black stripes that closely resemble tribal tattoos. Following his spine goes a thin line of fur that ends in an impressive long striped tail which usually twitches in annoyance. There are some dustings of fur in various degrees of thickness covering the area from his elbows to his shoulders as well as his unusual legs. Their bone structure is clearly Khaddorian as they look like paws - feet almost as long as his shins with meaty toes to stand on. While his feet have obvious claws, his hands have nails, which are made from stronger stuff than a Valekians and are regularly sharpened. His right hand is mutilated, missing his pinky and ring finger and one third of his middle one. This is usually hard to see as Zonran has a habit of hiding that hand in his sash.
Typical Clothing:
Zonran hasn’t owned a single fancy item of clothing in his entire life. His self-made attire usually consists of a thin coat, pants, a sash, arm protectors and weapon holders. His coat is a dull cold green in color, reaching his mid-thighs. Its right sleeve is torn off at the shoulder, while the other full length one, alongside the hood, is decorated with dark fur. The coat has massive buttons made from a creature’s ribs, though it’s kept closed by the sash rather than them. His black pants reach his ankles and have cuts in them reaching his knees, so it would be easier to put them on and off. While they are on, these cuts are closed by three buttons made from animals’ teeth. The mixed breed doesn't wear any shoes, since he dislikes them and enjoys feeling his surroundings. Although, he reconsiders this decision whenever he steps on something sharp.
The arm protectors are simple pieces of grey leather with holes for the string that keeps it tight around the forearm. Instead of a belt Zonran wears a wine color sash, more as a sword anchor on his left side than to pull up his pants. All of his weapon holders are made from brownish leather. His bow case and quiver are fused into one and always slung over his shoulder. It, alongside the sword scabbard, is decorated with various tribal patterns and scribbles he drew on them while bored.
Equipment:
Zonran carries his sword with himself no matter where he goes. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s durable and gets the job done. Whenever he goes hunting, he takes his archer equipment with him: a six-foot longbow with 70lbs draw-weight, bow case-quiver, 12 arrows and an archer’s thumb ring. Any other belongings he takes on his person only with the appropriate occasion.
Personality attributes
Personality/Attitude:
Zonran never shows much emotion preferring a cold stare at all times because he believes they can hinder a person. However there are rare moments when he can't control his fury or the urge to smile, on even rarer occasions - laugh. He's still quite easily embarrassed despite his best efforts, especially if people find out something they shouldn't have. Since Zonran spent most of his life in the forest, he's rather antisocial. Sometimes he even struggles to understand what others mean and when asked a question in the middle of a story, the mixed breed'll most likely just keep listening, waiting for the continuation. The lack of social interaction also left him pretty blunt, while the lack of proper etiquette - unmannered.
However combat is a completely different case. While engaged, words aren’t of much use - the skills do all the talking and Zonran takes great pride in his. He’s a very fierce fighter oozing with killing intent, broadly smiling in the face of danger. There’s absolutely nothing that excites him more than a good fight. He can never allow himself to back down from a challenge, no matter how petty, and he is very stubborn to boot. Most of his actions tend to be quite reckless; he usually does things first and asks questions later.
But under all that toughness lays a very kind heart. The mixed breed’s ready to go an extra mile to help a complete stranger and he's always ready to stand up for a weaker person. It's even worse with children, calling him a teddy bear in their hands would be an understatement. Because of this, there is nothing than sickens him more than people abusing their power. However, that doesn't mean he's trustful or naive. Quite the opposite - Zonran’s very cautious. He still wouldn't harm anyone without provocation, but he's also always prepared to kill. Gaining his trust isn't an easy feat, but a rewarding one. Earning his loyalty is even harder, though he'd give up his life for those that do. In addition, he hates liars and could never be a one himself, instead he just keeps his trap shut when he can't tell the truth. This might give out the answer anyway, but he can live with that. In general, Zonran keeps things to himself, life has thought him that much...
Skills/Talents:
Zonran has incredible stamina, pain tolerance and endurance accompanied with strong fighting instincts. His swordsmanship is really impressive and he continues improving it. Likewise, he’s an experienced archer capable of drawing back a 120lbs longbow. He's extremely independent, at least in the forest. He also has a talent for singing, but he needs a lot of encouragement and convincing to show off his voice. Mostly, Zonran just hums while doing something pleasant. Alongside humming, he enjoys a strong drink. He can chug down an unbelievable amount and still be completely sober. Anyone who manages to out drink him should consider themselves legendary and deserve a medal.
Goals/Ambitions:
Zonran wants to prove his worth to the world, as big headed as that dream is, he is absolutely positive he’ll manage to reach it. He just hasn't figured out the how. But he's prepared to take the first chance he gets.
Strengths:
Zonran’s generally a strong person, someone you could consider a trained warrior. His iron will and confident stance makes for one fearsome opponent. He doesn’t bend under pressure and meets every hardship with his head held high. For him, helpless situations don’t exist. While he can’t stand people that whine, he’d still help them out. Although, he might do it while scolding them for not acting on their own. He might not force his ideals on others, but he shows his opinion rather clearly ad loudly.
Zonran stays loyal even when everything goes to hell. He’ll be by his comrade’s side till his very last breath, which is quite convenient since he’s not planning to die anytime soon. But when he does, he’ll take every secret he has ever heard with him. He would never willingly tell on anyone, there are no excuses for betrayal. He also always owns up to his mistakes and is ready to take on any consequences.
Weaknesses:
A lot of Zonran's qualities most would view as strengths are actually his weaknesses. He has lived most of his life surrounded by ideals, unrealistic hopes. Because he was so isolated from civilization, he hasn’t experienced any racism, discrimination or even rejection besides the few times when he was too young to remember. That left him unable to understand such things like greed or jealousy. The mixed breed's easily outsmarted, while his honestly and bluntness often turns against him. People have a tendency to abuse his kindness the same way.
Besides that, Zonran's eagerness to act makes him reckless and careless. He jumps into situations he doesn't know how to handle and ends up using force when it could've been settled peacefully. Because of his stubborn nature, he pushes things much further than needed refusing to give up or give in. Overall, he's very hard to deal with if you don't understand how his head works.
Fears:
Zonran believes himself to be fearless though there are some things that make him uncomfortable, like overcrowded places. He greatly dislikes when people hate him for what he is rather than who he is. The thoughts of leading a meaningless life and coming out a failure aren't welcomed either.
Regular Routine:
Zonran lives in the Metsa jungle and, quite frankly, there’s not much going on there besides an occasional fight for territory between animals. That leaves him with more time than he knows what to do with it, which results in immense boredom. But truly, he has no rhythm that he’d follow daily. Though, there are times when even his unorganized life gets interrupted by an intruder. At the best of times, they just pass by without noticing the threat sitting in the trees, at worst – he kills them.
Zonran’s day starts whenever he wakes up, whether it is in the middle of the night or late in the afternoon. First thing he does is take a walk around and hunt down his breakfast. Sometimes he catches more than he can eat, so he shares with the animals sniffing about. At least they make some nice company to his lonely existence. That is usually followed up by a nap or a training session. Sometimes he just goes around the forest, butting heads the fiercer beasts living alongside him.
At some point the mixed breed gets hungry again and comes back to his tiny camp for leftovers or gets himself fresh meat. Afterwards he might do anything that he feels is needed – make some arrows, clean up his so called house, patch up his clothes, take care of his sword – or try chasing away his boredom by more training, naps and scouting missions.
When Zonran tires out he calls it a day. If he stinks badly enough, he might even go for a swim. At those times he rewards himself with fish for dinner. When he’s feeling rather giddy, he goes to clean himself at the seashore – a place he’s marked as dangerous territory. He usually practices his swimming skills or plays with the fishies, but doesn’t stay there for too long. Once he’s back at the campsite he cooks his meal and goes to sleep. If he can quiet his thoughts, that is.
Attitude Towards Death:
Zonran knows it’s unavoidable, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to save its victims. When it comes to facing it himself, he feels an undeniable thrill rather than fear. Though, he absolutely refuses to die somewhere in an unnamed swamp unknown to the world, like some meaningless bug. He wishes for an epic, memorable death that would go down in history. If he won't get it then death won't get him.
Religion/Beliefs:
From day one Zonran has been taught to believe in the Dralnian gods, both by his parents and by his mentor. He was most pressed to pray to Ilen and Ysmir, as his mentor did so. However, they didn’t really stick to him, he was far more keen on believing in fate if anything. And if by any chance he was wrong and there really was some supreme being watching over them as these horrible events unfolded in this messed up world, then he is one cruel bastard. At least, in his opinion.
Fetishes/Strange Behaviors:
Zonran doesn't have any fetishes he'd be aware of, simply because of his lack of experience in that subject. However, he does have a few abnormalities in his behavior. For one, he can sleep anywhere anytime while staying a light sleeper and waking up at the smallest of disturbances. Through his life, he has also honed a great dislike for bath time. Though, the most noticeable quirk of his would be the insane care he shows for his sword, like it would be a child of his.
Sexual Experience/Values:
Zonran's as virgin as they come and just a tiny hint at anything sexual leaves him flustered and a blushing mess - a feeling he resents with all his being. He’s not very interested in the aspect of sex, rather sees it as an unnecessary distraction from the important things in life. He’s much more interested in a romantic relationship, in the idea of having someone you can rely on, though only as long as it doesn’t get in his way.
Education/Special Training:
The only education Zonran ever received was from his mentor, a Khaddorian, so he can speak, read and write in Jorgethi and speak in Ardaric. His math is solely limited to counting. However, he excels in combat and has a lot of knowledge in archery and swordsmanship. He knows how to use the forest's provided resources and is pretty crafty in a sloppy kind of way.
Place of Residence: The Metsa jungle
Occupation: The Metsa jungle's ghost (swordsman)
Place of Work: None
Past Occupations: None
Backstory/Biography:
Zonran was born in the Eorn mountain range separating Eadith from Khauran, since his parents were traveling through there at the time. They were trying to get away from all the harassment and injustice they experienced at the hands of their own kind. His father was a Nord Valekian, Talkah, while his mother, Kasha, was a mix breed like her son. They both hoped he’d look like a normal Valekian, but that wasn’t the case. After he was born, his parents stayed in the mountains for a little while so he would grow up a bit and then moved on to explore Khauran. They mostly kept to the north, away from the Khaddorians, since they didn’t like their kind any better than the Valekians.
Zonran hardly remembers anything from those days with his true parents. If asked, he wouldn’t even be able to tell their names. But he does know that they were the ones who gave him his name and put down the fundamentals for his Ardaric’s knowledge.
Yral was a Tauren Khaddorian leading a group of bandits, however he was still a very honorable and an easy going man. He was the best swordsman that he had the pleasure to meet. He was still rather unhappy when he heard that some of his men went out and found something unusual without his permission, so he followed them to investigate. What he found was a wrecked campsite and two dead bodies alongside a couple of his men. Yran asked them where the third one had wandered off, but before he got an answer a child’s shrill scream made his blood run cold and his heart drop. Like a hurricane he swept in to save the child and he was absolutely positive his subordinate won’t forget that beating for his entire life. But no amount of punishment would ever set right the wrongs that his men did that day. The little boy was utterly terrified, shrinking away from his touches and answered his every word with barely contained hiccups, and to top it off he was homeless and a freak of nature. Yran felt responsible for his men’s sin, he had failed them as their leader, and so the next day he resigned from the group and took the boy under his wing, much to others protests. Afterwards he packed all the necessities he could carry on his own, took the child and left for the south.
It took him over a week to finally get the boys name and he thanked all the gods for learning Ardaric. It was obvious that Zonran saw his parents killed, though it didn’t seem he fully understood what that meant. The boy often shook and started randomly crying, in addition to being very cautious of Yral. He endured all the trouble brought by the child while always staying kind to him, trying to talk with him and otherwise distract the child, because he believed things would get better. Together, they traveled all the way to the edge of the Metsa jungle where they created a small home for themselves. He showed Zonran how to make a tent, though he didn’t trust himself enough to bring the boy hunting with him. Soon, Yral started teaching him the most basic of things, like speaking in Jorgethi, counting, sewing.. But what surprised him the most was when Zonran showed interest in combat. Of course, he gladly started teaching the child and he found much potential hidden in that small frame.
By the time Zonran was six, he already started regarding Yran as his mentor, taking all his lessons very seriously and goofing around with him at other times. He didn’t even notice how he started to trust the much older man, but it was hard to see him as a threat when he’d sing in front of the campfire while getting wasted. But above all, Zonran loved his laughter, it was a harsh hissing sound that tickled his ears and made his bones buzz. Sometimes he would sing along with the big feline, sometimes they bickered over the most trivial things, sometimes he was silent and the man just talked away. Then again, Zonran was a quiet kid with much character behind his glare or annoyed face. Yral still had a lot to teach him if he ever hoped for the boy to be someone he could be proud off. But they were going in the right direction.
After another year, Yral started grinding the most important principals of a fighter and a person. How you couldn’t strike someone who’s down or has their back to you, how one persons deed shouldn’t be applied for the whole race, how one should always stay true to himself. Though, the chitchat about hatred and kindness stuck with him the best. Zonran doubted he could ever forget that hatred was an overused, thus no longer very effective, weapon that everyone freely exchanged. That kindness was a much stronger force that some didn’t even know existed. That only the very strongest mentally were able to use it. He also remembered the small vow he made to be that strong when Yral left to make dinner.
Later on, Yral dumped a bow in his lap for the very first time. From then on Zonran started practicing archery alongside swordsmanship. It was a lot harder than mastering a sword, there were so many things he couldn’t just improvise. But he was forced to study all those ins and outs, make his own arrows and string his bow. It took a tiny forever to impress Yral and get his permission to go hunting together for the first time. That one was followed by many others and Yral noticed that his little boy wasn’t so little anymore and there was something sinister in his eyes when he fought. Those were the first signs of the beast inside the mixed breed and Yral had to make sure to tame it properly.
When half a year passed from Zonran’s tenth birthday, Yral allowed him to go on his first personal hunt - without his mentor at his side to save his butt. And there wasn’t anything in the world that could’ve ruined Zonran’s mood after he came back with a successful kill and his mentor simply beamed with pride. Though, the crushing hug afterwards could’ve been skipped. On the same evening Yral agreed to pierce his ears, something the mixed breed had greatly wanted after Yral had explained how he got his earrings. Apparently, in his family there was a tradition to pierce a child’s ears when the parents considered them grown up and a worthy family member. Afterwards a piercing could be added with any special accomplishments or events, anytime the child chose to. Zonran decided to get three golden earrings on his left ear. He didn’t even flinch when a thin hot needle went through and he was happy Yral didn’t feel the need to comment how proud he was or something else as ridiculous. But he just had to ask the mixed breed’s reasoning and crush him in another hug while getting snot all over his hair, when he said that one stood for his mentor and two for his parents.
However, life wasn’t always kind. One day when Yral went to the city to sell their handy work, Zonran ran into a group of Khaddorians. Surprisingly, they were very nice to him, asked him a million questions too. He was even more surprised when they told him they were looking for an old friend, his mentor. So Zonran led them to their camp site, warned that Yral will probably return when the sun set. He hadn’t even considered they could turn the tables on him the way they did. He never expected to be tied to a tree while the men searched through their belongings out of pure boredom. Didn’t think they would start cutting off his fingers, joint by joint, just to entertain themselves. But when it happened, Zonran refused to scream or beg for mercy, even when hot tears ran down his cheeks. He deserved it, a fitting punishment for a stupid brat. He was just as shocked as the man who cut off the tip of his middle finger when an arrow pierced the Khaddorians throat. Then there were frantic shouts and everything became blurry to Zonran until the ropes around his body loosened and Yral snapped him back to reality by clicking his fingers in front of him. He didn’t throw himself at the man like he wanted to, didn’t sob his heart out. He only lowered his head in pure shame.
Yral never held this against him, yet the boy’s eyes were always full of guilt. The old man saw him struggle drawing his bow, how his sword kept slipping and the teen’s frustration. He still didn’t press the issue; Zonran clearly didn’t want him near right now. However when the mixed breed took out his earrings and wanted to return them – that was one step across the line. Yral had none of that. He dropped the bow he was making and talked things out, a bit aggressively when Zonran refused to listen to him. His mentor agreed that the boy made a mistake, but stressed the fact that he lived through it and would know better now. It still took a while before Zonran got his confidence back, accepted the past and moved on. It helped greatly when Yral taught the boy a different bow draw, the pinch one, which suited his mutilated had much better.
The experience changed Zonran’s outlook on the world a little bit. He began to realize how different he was from most. Most, unlike him, seemed to view animals as inferior beings, but why? Was it because they followed instincts and killed to feed rather than their own pleasure? Because they ate everything raw and had no need for more than their fill? There were so many people taking the life of others without a second though and then just leaving the bodies for animals. So many frowned upon the act of murder yet killed animals on a daily basis. Zonran honestly didn’t see any difference between the two. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t feel any difference when killing a man rather than killing an animal. Did that make him a murderer everyone hated so much? Well, he was already quite hated, so it didn’t change much. And there were times when they ate meat raw.
Just before turning eighteen, Zonran set out on his own journey. It was long overdue, since his mentor always said he’d leave him on his own after he came of age. Of course, nether actually knew when that is for a mix breed, but it still felt like he had been ready for ages. So they bid their goodbyes, though there were no tears or sad words. Both of them just grinned as fools and Yral even threatened to come back and beat him into shape if he ever heard that Zonran lost his way. And he promised a lot of mortification with it. Though, the mixed breed was pretty sure the man teared up at least once when he was traveling back to his bandit group. On the other hand, Zonran headed deeper into the forest where he found a humongous tree he labeled as his house. There he made a makeshift home and continues to live, often pondering on troubling thoughts and how his first times would go.
And a time did come when he needed to kill. Zonran hadn't planned on running into that hopelessly lost pirate, felt the dread when he refused help and promised him torturous death. On top of that the man knew some magic spells, oh how he hated those cheats. The whole fight was annoying, he kept worrying about unwanted attention, how loud the man was. Just as he guessed the mixed breed didn't feel anything when the pirate fell for the last time, but the tiny gasp that followed made his blood freeze. He quickly found its source - two Khaddorian brats looking at him with terror in their eyes. He couldn't tell how old they were, he had no idea how their size reflected their growth. But they had to have just stumbled upon him, otherwise he would have noticed them sooner. They might've not seen the act of murder, but they sure as hell saw the body and him. Zonran thought how he should just finish them off too, he couldn't risk it. He'd make it quick, as painless as possible. He could even take them both out in one swipe; the way they were huddled together, nether would suffer more than the other. They didn't even run as he got closer, frozen still in fear. They'd be dead in a flash, such an easy kill... Yet why was his sword back in its scabbard, why the hell was he kneeling and petting their heads saying everything will be okay? Why did he offer to lead them home when they told him they got lost? This was way too dangerous - he couldn't get that close to Khaddorian cities. Yet he still did.
That night Zonran couldn't sleep, waiting for the sound of footsteps, for raised pitchforks like in those stories he heard as a child. He almost beheaded an innocent bird in his paranoia. All night his thoughts were a jumbled mess, but he did figure out two things: he was a merciless murderer after all, but also somewhere inside a helpless softie. Yuck.
Zonran hardly remembers anything from those days with his true parents. If asked, he wouldn’t even be able to tell their names. But he does know that they were the ones who gave him his name and put down the fundamentals for his Ardaric’s knowledge.
Yral was a Tauren Khaddorian leading a group of bandits, however he was still a very honorable and an easy going man. He was the best swordsman that he had the pleasure to meet. He was still rather unhappy when he heard that some of his men went out and found something unusual without his permission, so he followed them to investigate. What he found was a wrecked campsite and two dead bodies alongside a couple of his men. Yran asked them where the third one had wandered off, but before he got an answer a child’s shrill scream made his blood run cold and his heart drop. Like a hurricane he swept in to save the child and he was absolutely positive his subordinate won’t forget that beating for his entire life. But no amount of punishment would ever set right the wrongs that his men did that day. The little boy was utterly terrified, shrinking away from his touches and answered his every word with barely contained hiccups, and to top it off he was homeless and a freak of nature. Yran felt responsible for his men’s sin, he had failed them as their leader, and so the next day he resigned from the group and took the boy under his wing, much to others protests. Afterwards he packed all the necessities he could carry on his own, took the child and left for the south.
It took him over a week to finally get the boys name and he thanked all the gods for learning Ardaric. It was obvious that Zonran saw his parents killed, though it didn’t seem he fully understood what that meant. The boy often shook and started randomly crying, in addition to being very cautious of Yral. He endured all the trouble brought by the child while always staying kind to him, trying to talk with him and otherwise distract the child, because he believed things would get better. Together, they traveled all the way to the edge of the Metsa jungle where they created a small home for themselves. He showed Zonran how to make a tent, though he didn’t trust himself enough to bring the boy hunting with him. Soon, Yral started teaching him the most basic of things, like speaking in Jorgethi, counting, sewing.. But what surprised him the most was when Zonran showed interest in combat. Of course, he gladly started teaching the child and he found much potential hidden in that small frame.
By the time Zonran was six, he already started regarding Yran as his mentor, taking all his lessons very seriously and goofing around with him at other times. He didn’t even notice how he started to trust the much older man, but it was hard to see him as a threat when he’d sing in front of the campfire while getting wasted. But above all, Zonran loved his laughter, it was a harsh hissing sound that tickled his ears and made his bones buzz. Sometimes he would sing along with the big feline, sometimes they bickered over the most trivial things, sometimes he was silent and the man just talked away. Then again, Zonran was a quiet kid with much character behind his glare or annoyed face. Yral still had a lot to teach him if he ever hoped for the boy to be someone he could be proud off. But they were going in the right direction.
After another year, Yral started grinding the most important principals of a fighter and a person. How you couldn’t strike someone who’s down or has their back to you, how one persons deed shouldn’t be applied for the whole race, how one should always stay true to himself. Though, the chitchat about hatred and kindness stuck with him the best. Zonran doubted he could ever forget that hatred was an overused, thus no longer very effective, weapon that everyone freely exchanged. That kindness was a much stronger force that some didn’t even know existed. That only the very strongest mentally were able to use it. He also remembered the small vow he made to be that strong when Yral left to make dinner.
Later on, Yral dumped a bow in his lap for the very first time. From then on Zonran started practicing archery alongside swordsmanship. It was a lot harder than mastering a sword, there were so many things he couldn’t just improvise. But he was forced to study all those ins and outs, make his own arrows and string his bow. It took a tiny forever to impress Yral and get his permission to go hunting together for the first time. That one was followed by many others and Yral noticed that his little boy wasn’t so little anymore and there was something sinister in his eyes when he fought. Those were the first signs of the beast inside the mixed breed and Yral had to make sure to tame it properly.
When half a year passed from Zonran’s tenth birthday, Yral allowed him to go on his first personal hunt - without his mentor at his side to save his butt. And there wasn’t anything in the world that could’ve ruined Zonran’s mood after he came back with a successful kill and his mentor simply beamed with pride. Though, the crushing hug afterwards could’ve been skipped. On the same evening Yral agreed to pierce his ears, something the mixed breed had greatly wanted after Yral had explained how he got his earrings. Apparently, in his family there was a tradition to pierce a child’s ears when the parents considered them grown up and a worthy family member. Afterwards a piercing could be added with any special accomplishments or events, anytime the child chose to. Zonran decided to get three golden earrings on his left ear. He didn’t even flinch when a thin hot needle went through and he was happy Yral didn’t feel the need to comment how proud he was or something else as ridiculous. But he just had to ask the mixed breed’s reasoning and crush him in another hug while getting snot all over his hair, when he said that one stood for his mentor and two for his parents.
However, life wasn’t always kind. One day when Yral went to the city to sell their handy work, Zonran ran into a group of Khaddorians. Surprisingly, they were very nice to him, asked him a million questions too. He was even more surprised when they told him they were looking for an old friend, his mentor. So Zonran led them to their camp site, warned that Yral will probably return when the sun set. He hadn’t even considered they could turn the tables on him the way they did. He never expected to be tied to a tree while the men searched through their belongings out of pure boredom. Didn’t think they would start cutting off his fingers, joint by joint, just to entertain themselves. But when it happened, Zonran refused to scream or beg for mercy, even when hot tears ran down his cheeks. He deserved it, a fitting punishment for a stupid brat. He was just as shocked as the man who cut off the tip of his middle finger when an arrow pierced the Khaddorians throat. Then there were frantic shouts and everything became blurry to Zonran until the ropes around his body loosened and Yral snapped him back to reality by clicking his fingers in front of him. He didn’t throw himself at the man like he wanted to, didn’t sob his heart out. He only lowered his head in pure shame.
Yral never held this against him, yet the boy’s eyes were always full of guilt. The old man saw him struggle drawing his bow, how his sword kept slipping and the teen’s frustration. He still didn’t press the issue; Zonran clearly didn’t want him near right now. However when the mixed breed took out his earrings and wanted to return them – that was one step across the line. Yral had none of that. He dropped the bow he was making and talked things out, a bit aggressively when Zonran refused to listen to him. His mentor agreed that the boy made a mistake, but stressed the fact that he lived through it and would know better now. It still took a while before Zonran got his confidence back, accepted the past and moved on. It helped greatly when Yral taught the boy a different bow draw, the pinch one, which suited his mutilated had much better.
The experience changed Zonran’s outlook on the world a little bit. He began to realize how different he was from most. Most, unlike him, seemed to view animals as inferior beings, but why? Was it because they followed instincts and killed to feed rather than their own pleasure? Because they ate everything raw and had no need for more than their fill? There were so many people taking the life of others without a second though and then just leaving the bodies for animals. So many frowned upon the act of murder yet killed animals on a daily basis. Zonran honestly didn’t see any difference between the two. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t feel any difference when killing a man rather than killing an animal. Did that make him a murderer everyone hated so much? Well, he was already quite hated, so it didn’t change much. And there were times when they ate meat raw.
Just before turning eighteen, Zonran set out on his own journey. It was long overdue, since his mentor always said he’d leave him on his own after he came of age. Of course, nether actually knew when that is for a mix breed, but it still felt like he had been ready for ages. So they bid their goodbyes, though there were no tears or sad words. Both of them just grinned as fools and Yral even threatened to come back and beat him into shape if he ever heard that Zonran lost his way. And he promised a lot of mortification with it. Though, the mixed breed was pretty sure the man teared up at least once when he was traveling back to his bandit group. On the other hand, Zonran headed deeper into the forest where he found a humongous tree he labeled as his house. There he made a makeshift home and continues to live, often pondering on troubling thoughts and how his first times would go.
And a time did come when he needed to kill. Zonran hadn't planned on running into that hopelessly lost pirate, felt the dread when he refused help and promised him torturous death. On top of that the man knew some magic spells, oh how he hated those cheats. The whole fight was annoying, he kept worrying about unwanted attention, how loud the man was. Just as he guessed the mixed breed didn't feel anything when the pirate fell for the last time, but the tiny gasp that followed made his blood freeze. He quickly found its source - two Khaddorian brats looking at him with terror in their eyes. He couldn't tell how old they were, he had no idea how their size reflected their growth. But they had to have just stumbled upon him, otherwise he would have noticed them sooner. They might've not seen the act of murder, but they sure as hell saw the body and him. Zonran thought how he should just finish them off too, he couldn't risk it. He'd make it quick, as painless as possible. He could even take them both out in one swipe; the way they were huddled together, nether would suffer more than the other. They didn't even run as he got closer, frozen still in fear. They'd be dead in a flash, such an easy kill... Yet why was his sword back in its scabbard, why the hell was he kneeling and petting their heads saying everything will be okay? Why did he offer to lead them home when they told him they got lost? This was way too dangerous - he couldn't get that close to Khaddorian cities. Yet he still did.
That night Zonran couldn't sleep, waiting for the sound of footsteps, for raised pitchforks like in those stories he heard as a child. He almost beheaded an innocent bird in his paranoia. All night his thoughts were a jumbled mess, but he did figure out two things: he was a merciless murderer after all, but also somewhere inside a helpless softie. Yuck.
Other:
Theme song: Feel Invincible – Skillet
Personality type: ISTP
Author Notes: To be fair, I love everything about the RP, though the most amazing is the work the GM put into it. All this world building, communication and dedication, I’m simply in awe.
Last edited:
radiojelly
Bubonic Beauty
"Desire is strength. Desire for freedom, money, sex, drink... and revenge. It is all us mortals know."
Basics
Name:
Na'Vosi
Date of Birth:
Shevat 4 ~ Kraken
38 Years of Age
Place of Birth:
Dareen Grove
Gender:
Male
Sexual Preference:
Heterosexual
Species/Racial Origin:
Dunmas Elf
Social Class/ Community Status:
Pirate/Smuggler
Language:
Tarien; Tarien--Dunmas Dialect; Conversational Jorgethi; Light Andaric
Name:
Na'Vosi
Date of Birth:
Shevat 4 ~ Kraken
38 Years of Age
Place of Birth:
Dareen Grove
Gender:
Male
Sexual Preference:
Heterosexual
Species/Racial Origin:
Dunmas Elf
Social Class/ Community Status:
Pirate/Smuggler
Language:
Tarien; Tarien--Dunmas Dialect; Conversational Jorgethi; Light Andaric
Physique
Na'Vosi carries an air of import around him wherever he goes: he is both tall, and gaunt beyond measure. At 6'5" he towers above most, and certainly above all of his former subordinates. He is Dunmas, and therefore his skin reflects a deep obsidian sheen, whereas his long, well combed hair is stark white by contrast. He takes great pains to hide his shoulder-length locks by keeping them wrapped in a tight bun beneath his captain's hat. Of the many imposing elements that strangers seem to notice, his eyes tend to be among them: his irises appear a deep black at first glance, but in the light--and at the right angle--the most perceptive may notice that they are in fact a muted crimson color.
His teeth are a bright white by contrast to his skin, which contributes to his noticeable smile. The young Dunmas is of an excitable nature, and so his posture usually is impeccable. In fact, he typically appears to stand too tall: his chin is often upturned, and eyes downcast. As for clothing, he dresses as eccentrically as one might expect from an unorthodox pirate captain. He wears a long, collared navy coat that trails behind him as far as the backs of his knees. The coat is two tailed, and outfitted with primarily ornamental pauldrons made of some sort of polished aluminum. The buttons of the coat are silver, and engraved with the seal of presumably the manufacturing company that produced it. The coat was stolen during a raid, so even Na'Vosi doesn't know where it came from.
As for leggings, he most often wears a pair of baggy, striped linen pants held at his waist by a wide-set leather belt. The belt is too big on his slender frame, but he never parts with it for his admiration of the fine steel buckle at one end of the strap. The buckle had been shaped to resemble a roaring lion's head, and though he would keep it for fashion's sake alone, the belt itself was a gift from his closest mentor.
His shoes are tri-buckle boots with a folded rim that reach several inches above his ankles and over the base of his pants-leg on each side.
His teeth are a bright white by contrast to his skin, which contributes to his noticeable smile. The young Dunmas is of an excitable nature, and so his posture usually is impeccable. In fact, he typically appears to stand too tall: his chin is often upturned, and eyes downcast. As for clothing, he dresses as eccentrically as one might expect from an unorthodox pirate captain. He wears a long, collared navy coat that trails behind him as far as the backs of his knees. The coat is two tailed, and outfitted with primarily ornamental pauldrons made of some sort of polished aluminum. The buttons of the coat are silver, and engraved with the seal of presumably the manufacturing company that produced it. The coat was stolen during a raid, so even Na'Vosi doesn't know where it came from.
As for leggings, he most often wears a pair of baggy, striped linen pants held at his waist by a wide-set leather belt. The belt is too big on his slender frame, but he never parts with it for his admiration of the fine steel buckle at one end of the strap. The buckle had been shaped to resemble a roaring lion's head, and though he would keep it for fashion's sake alone, the belt itself was a gift from his closest mentor.
His shoes are tri-buckle boots with a folded rim that reach several inches above his ankles and over the base of his pants-leg on each side.
Height:
6'5"
Weight:
142 lbs.
Hair:
White
Eyes:
Red
Limb Dexterity:
Highly flexible due to lean build.
6'5"
Weight:
142 lbs.
Hair:
White
Eyes:
Red
Limb Dexterity:
Highly flexible due to lean build.
Equipment:
Keeps two falchions in simple leather sheaths crossed behind his back to use in combat. His preferred fighting style is a dual-weapon technique focused on speed over strength, which is typical given his lithe frame.
Otherwise, he keeps a hidden pendant over his bare chest made of an unidentifiable wood native to his home island. The pendant is shaped like a small effigy of Dydva, and it never leaves his side.
Personality
In better times, Na'Vosi's strength as a captain was matched only by his overwhelming charm. Even among other pirates, he was never afraid to indulge in drink or jest, nor did he prevent his crew from doing the same. Having known what it was like to be ruled by fear--and having been taught how sweet the alternative was--Na'Vosi's priority was to encourage loyalty through incentive. Never for one second did he suspect any betrayal on the part of his crew, as he often encouraged any and all of them to speak their minds even when dissatisfied.
This is not to say Na'Vosi was a pushover. Any member aboard his ship had the right to challenge him, but all violent altercations met swift--and frequently deadly--discipline. If it escalated to a challenge of blades, Na'Vosi's men knew to give the men a wide berth lest they be sprayed with the gore and viscera of whatever poor fool attempted to disrespect their captain. In many ways, Na'Vosi is passionate beyond measure, and this often leads to hardheadedness and a resistance to change. One of his greatest fears is a lack of control, and coupled with his impassioned temper, this fear is what drives him to fight viciously for whatever he has.
Though somewhat unpredictable from time to time, Na'Vosi is not foolish enough to believe himself a wise man in any regard. He knows that learning never ends, which is why he stayed with the pirating profession long after buying his freedom: his curiosity regarding the world, its history, and its magics has never dampened and likely never will. There is always a secret to find, and treasure to repossess. This hunger is what drives him above all else.
This is not to say Na'Vosi was a pushover. Any member aboard his ship had the right to challenge him, but all violent altercations met swift--and frequently deadly--discipline. If it escalated to a challenge of blades, Na'Vosi's men knew to give the men a wide berth lest they be sprayed with the gore and viscera of whatever poor fool attempted to disrespect their captain. In many ways, Na'Vosi is passionate beyond measure, and this often leads to hardheadedness and a resistance to change. One of his greatest fears is a lack of control, and coupled with his impassioned temper, this fear is what drives him to fight viciously for whatever he has.
Though somewhat unpredictable from time to time, Na'Vosi is not foolish enough to believe himself a wise man in any regard. He knows that learning never ends, which is why he stayed with the pirating profession long after buying his freedom: his curiosity regarding the world, its history, and its magics has never dampened and likely never will. There is always a secret to find, and treasure to repossess. This hunger is what drives him above all else.
Skills
Nar'Vosi is an expert pick-pocket from his days as a galley-boy aboard his first master's ship. He might've starved had he not developed a knack for taking rations and drinks that weren't his to begin with. He is also a deft lock-pick, though by no means an expert. His practice is limited to the padlocks he removes from the necks of slaves and stolen cargo.
He is a sailor as well, and so is talented at piloting a sea-ship. With years of training on board, he is also proficient in knot-tying, deck-scrubbing, and navigating. His time behind the wheel has made him perceptive, and wary of the varying depths and coral labyrinths of the seas he's traveled.
As far as non-technical skills go, he's an avid gambler and bargainer. His appearance--coupled with his charismatic charm--often leaves an impression on those strangers he's met for either good or ill. Typically, for a Dunmas like him, first impressions are everything and he never fails to embody whatever character best serves each situation.
He is a sailor as well, and so is talented at piloting a sea-ship. With years of training on board, he is also proficient in knot-tying, deck-scrubbing, and navigating. His time behind the wheel has made him perceptive, and wary of the varying depths and coral labyrinths of the seas he's traveled.
As far as non-technical skills go, he's an avid gambler and bargainer. His appearance--coupled with his charismatic charm--often leaves an impression on those strangers he's met for either good or ill. Typically, for a Dunmas like him, first impressions are everything and he never fails to embody whatever character best serves each situation.
Goals/Ambitions:
His primary goal is revenge for what he's lost. The slavery of his youth never dampened his spirit, but it left him with a festering ambition. At the height of his captain-ship he had--at last--shaken free from the yoke of his past. Losing everything so quickly has not only returned that desire, but compounded it ten times over. Otherwise, he has no plan beyond returning to the seas and plundering what he may.
Strengths:
Nar'Vosi is charismatic, dexterous, adaptive, and driven.
Weaknesses:
Nar'Vosi is also stubborn, short-sighted, and paranoid.
Nar'Vosi is charismatic, dexterous, adaptive, and driven.
Weaknesses:
Nar'Vosi is also stubborn, short-sighted, and paranoid.
Fears:
He fears incarceration, but--more specifically--being locked in chains once more. Nothing gives him pleasure like the freedom of the open ocean, and nothing drives fear into his heart like the prospect of rotting away in a stone cell. Any kind of lack of control makes him nervous, but being physically restrained makes him truly fearful.
Regular Routine:
When he still had a ship, his routine would begin with a morning drink to wake him up, followed by a meal. Most often this meant some kind of fresh fish if they were anchored, or just simple breads and cheeses if they were moving. Breakfast would be (appropriately) washed down with a second drink. Sometimes, if he was feeling adventurous, he would drink a white rum instead of a gold when he ate his meal. After eating in his bare linens, he would suit up, tie back his hair, and arrange his hat. The process of setting the captain's hat at the perfect angle would take at least 30 minutes in and of itself. Then, he would emerge on deck, and call a lineup of all his men. He would discuss the day's travel plans during this phase of the morning, before releasing his crew members to their day's duties.
Now, his days are typically categorized by excessive rum-drinking, and ill-advised gambling. Without direction nor stability, he no longer has much of a routine despite not having a well-structured one to begin with.
Attitude Towards Death:
In his youth, he was taught by his parents to not fear it, and so he does not. He is more concerned with living to see his retribution. Currently, he wishes--in secret--that his end would come soon to rid him of his woes, though he knows these to be cowardly thoughts in light of all the lives lost on his watch.
Religion/Beliefs:
Fetishes/Strange Behaviors:
He is most often attracted to strong and powerful women, though he hasn't explored that admiration in a sexual capacity.
Sexual Experience/Values:
Education/Special Training:
Home:
None.
Occupation:
Former captain
Place of Work:
None.
Past Occupations:
Slave. Thief. Galley-boy. Sailor. Navigator. Smuggler. Captain.
None.
Occupation:
Former captain
Place of Work:
None.
Past Occupations:
Slave. Thief. Galley-boy. Sailor. Navigator. Smuggler. Captain.
Biography
Nar'Vosi--like most Dunmas--was born in his people's ancestral home of Dareen Grove, where he lived for much of his youth unperturbed. It was a simple living amongst his kin, but an insular one and though he enjoyed exploring the labyrinthine swamps and groves of his home, he took great pleasure in what little stories his parents told him of the outside world. This curiosity would be his undoing, and when he was nine years of age he stole away from the village and beyond the limits of Dareen.
Children were cautioned not to go running off into the wilds, but the boy had an adventurers spirit and would not be deterred. When at last he broke from the impossibly dense forests of Dareen Grove and found himself staring at the wide oceans beyond, he knew in his heart he could never resume his insular lifestyle. Unfortunately, he did not have to make that decision for himself.
He returned to the sea shore a number of times thereafter, and on one such occasion found that he was not alone: a slaver ship--obscured by the dense foliage on either side of the beach--was docked nearby. Scouts had already taken to the beaches, and though Nar'Vosi made a good attempt at escape, he ensnared himself in a trapper's net. Swiftly, he was whisked away from his home, powerless and vulnerable to his captor's will.
For some time he remained a slave before being sold to a pirate vessel and its captain. The leader of the ship was a brusque, disinterested Valekian with little regard for the servants in his employ. He was a galley-boy aboard the ship from age ten to sixteen, and in those years learned the fine art of thievery. He and the other servants would take what little they could without being noticed--oftentimes from the pockets of the chef himself. On deck Nar'Vosi performed menial tasks, and learned to do them efficiently: he preferred to spend no more time around the sailors as possible given their distaste and distrust for his kind. If he did not perform well, he suffered. If he did his duties diligently, he survived.
The sole pleasures during these years came from the occasional trips to harbor. In Solum--a Valekian province--Nar'Vosi got brief tastes of culture and glimpses of the exotic world he had dreamt of. Though the public treated him no better there than on his ship, he often stole away when the crew disembarked to go off on adventures of his own. He infiltrated storefronts for food, pick-pocketed trinkets from other sailors, and stole away into gambling dens and whorehouses to learn what it was Valekian sailors did in their spare time.
Sometimes, he would even make a friend of his own or two on those rare nights. When he discovered slaves like him, he would attempt to communicate and--if they didn't speak his mother tongue--he would still try to pay forward what kindnesses he could in stolen goods or food. As it happened, his crew was often too preoccupied spending their plunder, and imbibing in the world's pleasures to care much for where he was or what he did. It was only when they were set to disembark that Nar'Vosi made sure he was on board where they had left him, lest he face the wrath of the captain.
One day, he was dragged from the linens where he slept below deck, and forcibly dragged to the main deck. He was sure that some small deception, or thievery of his had been found out but was surprised to learn he wasn't in trouble. In fact, his life was about to change for the better.
As it happened, he had been purchased from a rival pirate captain in what was an act of good faith. Nar'Vosi never asked for the details (frankly, he didn't care) but from what he would later go on to understand was that his first owner owed some measure of debt to the man who became his mentor, and his sale
was a part of the appeasement. Nonetheless, Nar'Vosi prepared himself for whatever injustice he would face as a slave aboard his new master's ship having already suffered countless beatings and punishments at the hands of his old master.
The captain of the ship he had been relocated to was no ordinary man. In fact, he was not a man at all. Born of the Merfolk, the captain--Marius--was a true sight to behold. For his kind, he was large beyond measure. An impression combination of rotund belly and thick, muscled chest seemed to inflate his presence ten-fold. His arms were as thick as tree trunks, and his palms as weathered as any slave's. From the moment Nar'Vosi was brought before the man, he respected his authority as though his very aura demanded it. The captain's thick, seaweed-like beard was groomed into a single colossal braid that hung as low as his belly button against the blue-green sheen of his merfolk skin, and his radiant turquoise eyes seemed to penetrate Nar'Vosi's very being.
After disbanding the parley and going on their way, Marius made a point of unchaining Nar'Vosi in plain view of all his crew. The Dunmas was sure he was about to be abused in some form or fashion for the entertainment or education of this captain's men, but instead he was given a clean tunic and set to work as a sailor's apprentice. For a year he worked alongside a handpicked sailor, learning the ins and outs of the ship and its functions. From there, he was initiated as a full member, and came to learn that his captain had a running habit of liberating purchased slaves for his own sake. For the first time, Nar'Vosi had opportunity where before there was naught but suffering.
His dedication to the craft impressed Marius, and the captain took a liking to the young elf in turn. Nar'Vosi was brave and bull-headed: he had no training in combat, but yearned to be a part of the seasoned crew who oft partook in the galley raids from which they made their profits. Marius himself trained the young elf in the dead of night so as to not interfere with the day's duties, and found a fast learner in the spry Dunmas. Though Marius was found of bludgeoning his foes to death with a mahogany cudgel, it became evident Nar'Vosi did not have the strength for such a tool. To accommodate him, the captain had his first mate teach Nar'Vosi the way of the saber beyond the combat basics that Marius was capable of instilling in him.
Over the next four years he sailed with Marius, Nar'Vosi became an expert at his craft. Their trips had been bountiful, and his share of the plunder plenty. With a measure of wealth to his name, Nar'Vosi offered to buy out his freedom: he desired more than anything to captain his own ship despite the generosity of Marius and his crew. Marius, though sad to see a good sailor leave, knew the allure of the open ocean would only drive Nar'Vosi contemptuous if he tried to restrain the free-spirited elf. Instead of outright payment, he struck a deal with the Dunmas: when he purchased his own vessel, his first mate would be Marius's own son and fledgling sailor--Twembo. Nar'Vosi knew the boy to be a strong sailor, but not much more. Nonetheless, he agreed, and the two of them departed at first landfall after that.
Nar'Vosi purchased a small schooner with his accumulated shares, and spent the next decade at sea with a crew of his own from the time he left Marius at age 21 until but a month before his 32 birthday. Their adventures had been many, and the plunder had been spectacular. Like his mentor, Nar'Vosi even got in the habit of purchasing and freeing slaves where he could, and making loyal dock-hands out of the ones that wanted to stay. Twembo, though green when they began, grew into a fine first mate and better friend: the two became nigh inseparable. Though Nar'Vosi was captain, he never made life-altering decisions without his friends’ consultation. With each fresh haul, Nar'vosi invested some of his share into upgrading the vessel, until they could outright afford a new one. Though he was loathe to part with any ship, they did upgrade several times until he had a vessel to be truly proud of--and proud he was.
Children were cautioned not to go running off into the wilds, but the boy had an adventurers spirit and would not be deterred. When at last he broke from the impossibly dense forests of Dareen Grove and found himself staring at the wide oceans beyond, he knew in his heart he could never resume his insular lifestyle. Unfortunately, he did not have to make that decision for himself.
He returned to the sea shore a number of times thereafter, and on one such occasion found that he was not alone: a slaver ship--obscured by the dense foliage on either side of the beach--was docked nearby. Scouts had already taken to the beaches, and though Nar'Vosi made a good attempt at escape, he ensnared himself in a trapper's net. Swiftly, he was whisked away from his home, powerless and vulnerable to his captor's will.
For some time he remained a slave before being sold to a pirate vessel and its captain. The leader of the ship was a brusque, disinterested Valekian with little regard for the servants in his employ. He was a galley-boy aboard the ship from age ten to sixteen, and in those years learned the fine art of thievery. He and the other servants would take what little they could without being noticed--oftentimes from the pockets of the chef himself. On deck Nar'Vosi performed menial tasks, and learned to do them efficiently: he preferred to spend no more time around the sailors as possible given their distaste and distrust for his kind. If he did not perform well, he suffered. If he did his duties diligently, he survived.
The sole pleasures during these years came from the occasional trips to harbor. In Solum--a Valekian province--Nar'Vosi got brief tastes of culture and glimpses of the exotic world he had dreamt of. Though the public treated him no better there than on his ship, he often stole away when the crew disembarked to go off on adventures of his own. He infiltrated storefronts for food, pick-pocketed trinkets from other sailors, and stole away into gambling dens and whorehouses to learn what it was Valekian sailors did in their spare time.
Sometimes, he would even make a friend of his own or two on those rare nights. When he discovered slaves like him, he would attempt to communicate and--if they didn't speak his mother tongue--he would still try to pay forward what kindnesses he could in stolen goods or food. As it happened, his crew was often too preoccupied spending their plunder, and imbibing in the world's pleasures to care much for where he was or what he did. It was only when they were set to disembark that Nar'Vosi made sure he was on board where they had left him, lest he face the wrath of the captain.
One day, he was dragged from the linens where he slept below deck, and forcibly dragged to the main deck. He was sure that some small deception, or thievery of his had been found out but was surprised to learn he wasn't in trouble. In fact, his life was about to change for the better.
As it happened, he had been purchased from a rival pirate captain in what was an act of good faith. Nar'Vosi never asked for the details (frankly, he didn't care) but from what he would later go on to understand was that his first owner owed some measure of debt to the man who became his mentor, and his sale
was a part of the appeasement. Nonetheless, Nar'Vosi prepared himself for whatever injustice he would face as a slave aboard his new master's ship having already suffered countless beatings and punishments at the hands of his old master.
The captain of the ship he had been relocated to was no ordinary man. In fact, he was not a man at all. Born of the Merfolk, the captain--Marius--was a true sight to behold. For his kind, he was large beyond measure. An impression combination of rotund belly and thick, muscled chest seemed to inflate his presence ten-fold. His arms were as thick as tree trunks, and his palms as weathered as any slave's. From the moment Nar'Vosi was brought before the man, he respected his authority as though his very aura demanded it. The captain's thick, seaweed-like beard was groomed into a single colossal braid that hung as low as his belly button against the blue-green sheen of his merfolk skin, and his radiant turquoise eyes seemed to penetrate Nar'Vosi's very being.
After disbanding the parley and going on their way, Marius made a point of unchaining Nar'Vosi in plain view of all his crew. The Dunmas was sure he was about to be abused in some form or fashion for the entertainment or education of this captain's men, but instead he was given a clean tunic and set to work as a sailor's apprentice. For a year he worked alongside a handpicked sailor, learning the ins and outs of the ship and its functions. From there, he was initiated as a full member, and came to learn that his captain had a running habit of liberating purchased slaves for his own sake. For the first time, Nar'Vosi had opportunity where before there was naught but suffering.
His dedication to the craft impressed Marius, and the captain took a liking to the young elf in turn. Nar'Vosi was brave and bull-headed: he had no training in combat, but yearned to be a part of the seasoned crew who oft partook in the galley raids from which they made their profits. Marius himself trained the young elf in the dead of night so as to not interfere with the day's duties, and found a fast learner in the spry Dunmas. Though Marius was found of bludgeoning his foes to death with a mahogany cudgel, it became evident Nar'Vosi did not have the strength for such a tool. To accommodate him, the captain had his first mate teach Nar'Vosi the way of the saber beyond the combat basics that Marius was capable of instilling in him.
Over the next four years he sailed with Marius, Nar'Vosi became an expert at his craft. Their trips had been bountiful, and his share of the plunder plenty. With a measure of wealth to his name, Nar'Vosi offered to buy out his freedom: he desired more than anything to captain his own ship despite the generosity of Marius and his crew. Marius, though sad to see a good sailor leave, knew the allure of the open ocean would only drive Nar'Vosi contemptuous if he tried to restrain the free-spirited elf. Instead of outright payment, he struck a deal with the Dunmas: when he purchased his own vessel, his first mate would be Marius's own son and fledgling sailor--Twembo. Nar'Vosi knew the boy to be a strong sailor, but not much more. Nonetheless, he agreed, and the two of them departed at first landfall after that.
Nar'Vosi purchased a small schooner with his accumulated shares, and spent the next decade at sea with a crew of his own from the time he left Marius at age 21 until but a month before his 32 birthday. Their adventures had been many, and the plunder had been spectacular. Like his mentor, Nar'Vosi even got in the habit of purchasing and freeing slaves where he could, and making loyal dock-hands out of the ones that wanted to stay. Twembo, though green when they began, grew into a fine first mate and better friend: the two became nigh inseparable. Though Nar'Vosi was captain, he never made life-altering decisions without his friends’ consultation. With each fresh haul, Nar'vosi invested some of his share into upgrading the vessel, until they could outright afford a new one. Though he was loathe to part with any ship, they did upgrade several times until he had a vessel to be truly proud of--and proud he was.
Author Notes: My favorite aspect of the role-play is the fact that you put in a cool polytheistic religion. Give me serious Greek mythology vibes, and as a greek boi this pleases me.
Last edited:
Green Pepper
New Member
Philosophy of Life
~~We’re all travellers in the journey known as life.~~
Name: Ashfa (Ush-fah), nickname Ash
Date of Birth (&Age): Fraicius 13, 21 years old
Place of Birth: At the outskirts of Bahman, in a camp of wanderers.
Gender: Female
Sexual Preference: Demisexual
Species/Racial Origin: Valekian (Bahmi)
Social Class/ Community Status: Traveler
Language: Ardaric (her dialect being similar to the Jogheti languages)
Date of Birth (&Age): Fraicius 13, 21 years old
Place of Birth: At the outskirts of Bahman, in a camp of wanderers.
Gender: Female
Sexual Preference: Demisexual
Species/Racial Origin: Valekian (Bahmi)
Social Class/ Community Status: Traveler
Language: Ardaric (her dialect being similar to the Jogheti languages)
Ashfa is quite the small person, in both height and weight. She is no more than 5 feet tall and weighs 100 lbs at most. Her skin tone is a mid tan, a little lighter than those who are native of where she is from. Her straight black hair reaches her waist; she either keeps it open or in a braid, making sure it’s tied tightly at the bottom otherwise it tends to open. Her face is a little rounded, eyes wide but almond shaped, deep brown with dark eyelashes, set under a pair of dark eyebrows. Her nose is neither too long nor short, straight but a little wide and rounded at the tip. Her mouth is wide and lips full, but not overly so, brownish-pink in colour.
Her clothes are usually old and loose, consisting of knee-length tunics with slits to the hip along with loose trousers that are tied with a drawstring. She usually keeps to duller shades as travelling tends to be hard on clothes. On her feet is a pair of simple but sturdy pair of leather sandals.
Around her neck is a single gold chain and black pendant that used to belong to her mother. She keeps this hidden under her shirt. Unknown to her, this pendant is actually a stolen trinket that was originally made by a Dunmas elf. It was stolen by one of her ancestors and posed as a family heirloom, passing from mother to child. Unknown to anyone, this pendant is cursed with dark magic and eventually kills the one wearing it.
On her person, she carries one small knife, not much of a weapon as it was used mostly for paring vegetables and cuttings plants and flowers. However, it can cut through flesh and worst come to worst, Ash can use it to defend herself in close quarters. She is also strong for her body size, due to having to work hard most of her life.
She also carries a backpack with an assortment of compartments within, carrying various ingredients for potions, salves, etc, as well as bandages, water and nonperishable food.
Her clothes are usually old and loose, consisting of knee-length tunics with slits to the hip along with loose trousers that are tied with a drawstring. She usually keeps to duller shades as travelling tends to be hard on clothes. On her feet is a pair of simple but sturdy pair of leather sandals.
Around her neck is a single gold chain and black pendant that used to belong to her mother. She keeps this hidden under her shirt. Unknown to her, this pendant is actually a stolen trinket that was originally made by a Dunmas elf. It was stolen by one of her ancestors and posed as a family heirloom, passing from mother to child. Unknown to anyone, this pendant is cursed with dark magic and eventually kills the one wearing it.
On her person, she carries one small knife, not much of a weapon as it was used mostly for paring vegetables and cuttings plants and flowers. However, it can cut through flesh and worst come to worst, Ash can use it to defend herself in close quarters. She is also strong for her body size, due to having to work hard most of her life.
She also carries a backpack with an assortment of compartments within, carrying various ingredients for potions, salves, etc, as well as bandages, water and nonperishable food.
Ash is a rather shy person, even at her age. She has low self-confidence and usually feels as if she is being a bother to others or she will annoy them. Although she tries to be friendly with others, this sort of fear tends to make her speak nervously and stammer, usually ending up with people becoming annoyed and simply leaving. She is easily embarrassed and will more often than not blush, whether it's from happiness, shame, embarrassment or anger. It tends to annoy her at times, but it's something she just can't help. She doesn't have much of a poker face, wearing her feelings on her sleeve. However, once she does make a friend, she becomes rather loyal to that person, to the point that she will try to be brave and overcome her fears to help them out, even if it is dangerous to herself. She is kind to most people in general but especially those who are less fortunate.
Although she’s been alone for most of her life and treated more as a worker than someone actually wanted around, Ashfa had always placed value on her own life. Staying alive is high on her priority list, if only to just travel, see the rest of the world, get over her own fears and maybe make a few close friends. Perhaps even find some love? As of yet, Ashfa had never garnered the courage to form any romantic or sexual relation with anyone. Travelling doesn’t help much in that regard as she has never settled long enough in a single place to even form a lasting friendship, leave along anything further. However, for the moment, she is very satisfied with just the close friends she’d made in her travelling companions.
That’s not to say, however, that she sometimes wonders why they would want to stay around her. This is one of the reasons she’s a bit of an early riser… just in case camp is abandoned if she sleeps in a little too late. One could say she has the fear of being abandoned or the fear of being lonely. This makes her a little susceptible to following things her friends tell her to do, even if she feels uncomfortable with it.
Again, as she had to grow up alone, she had learned from the start to look after herself. Waking up early, cooking and cleaning is something of a second nature to her, and she can be a little fastidious at times, wanting things in their place rather than simply thrown about.
Her patrons of choice are Ysmir and Durena. The former is due to the fact that she’s the Goddess of Peace and Nature, something Ashfa is very much in touch with, as well as the similarities in how they both are travellers. She often prays to her with the simply request of wisdom and how to keep a calm and peaceful mind. The latter is due to being one who also delves in the medicinal field, and for lesser reasons, because one of his signs is a snake as well as their having something of a similar childhood ie loneliness and lack of parents.
Although she’s been alone for most of her life and treated more as a worker than someone actually wanted around, Ashfa had always placed value on her own life. Staying alive is high on her priority list, if only to just travel, see the rest of the world, get over her own fears and maybe make a few close friends. Perhaps even find some love? As of yet, Ashfa had never garnered the courage to form any romantic or sexual relation with anyone. Travelling doesn’t help much in that regard as she has never settled long enough in a single place to even form a lasting friendship, leave along anything further. However, for the moment, she is very satisfied with just the close friends she’d made in her travelling companions.
That’s not to say, however, that she sometimes wonders why they would want to stay around her. This is one of the reasons she’s a bit of an early riser… just in case camp is abandoned if she sleeps in a little too late. One could say she has the fear of being abandoned or the fear of being lonely. This makes her a little susceptible to following things her friends tell her to do, even if she feels uncomfortable with it.
Again, as she had to grow up alone, she had learned from the start to look after herself. Waking up early, cooking and cleaning is something of a second nature to her, and she can be a little fastidious at times, wanting things in their place rather than simply thrown about.
Her patrons of choice are Ysmir and Durena. The former is due to the fact that she’s the Goddess of Peace and Nature, something Ashfa is very much in touch with, as well as the similarities in how they both are travellers. She often prays to her with the simply request of wisdom and how to keep a calm and peaceful mind. The latter is due to being one who also delves in the medicinal field, and for lesser reasons, because one of his signs is a snake as well as their having something of a similar childhood ie loneliness and lack of parents.
Ashfa's story starts much like anyone else's... to a degree. Her parents were childhood friends who eventually fell in love, married, and gave birth to her. Of course, from here onward the similarities to most others differ. Her parents didn't live in the city of Bahman, although they had been born there. Whilst they had been childhood friends, their families were rather apart in the class system. Surprisingly, her father, named Bin'dair, was the lower classed one in this relationship, having been a servant at her mother Shiyan's house. The two knew that their blooming love would not be allowed to last. Taking her dying mother's advice, Shiyan convinced Bin’dair to run away from home.
Running away wasn't an easy feat, but they did manage to reach the edge of the city, where they joined a traveling troupe of entertainers including dancers, puppeteers, snake charmers, contortionists and others of the sort. There were even a few nnon-Valekian including on Khaddorian, and one member who looked suspiciously like an elf.. Shiyan wasn't into any entertaining, but she did know how to cook and sew, and that was an asset for the troupe. Bin'dair meanwhile proved his worth by doing heavy lifting and taking care of their belongings, seeing he was good with a sword.
As such, life was quite well for the two, and after ten years of living peacefully, Shiyan gave birth to their only child, naming her Ashfa after her mother. Both mother and father doted on the little girl, though the rest of the troupe weren't too thrilled with an extra mouth to feed. Still, they valued Shiyan and Bin'dair a little too much to tell them to leave. Whilst the new parents were indeed taken by their baby girl, they knew that leaving their duties incomplete would lead to their being forced out. As such, they worked extra hard to keep their worth.
When Ashfa was barely five years of age, tragedy struck the little family. Bin’dair had been sent to the city to buy and sell some wares for the troupe. Money was obviously needed, and they didn’t count on their entertainment to keep everything running. Whilst in town, the young man thought to visit his family. It had been fifteen years since he had left with Shiyan; he had presumed that his family would have forgiven him by now. He was unfortunately dead wrong. It turned out that his older brother had been punished by death for his misdeeds by Shiyan’s family, and Bin’dair’s parents blamed their wayward son. He was ‘taught’ a lesson, beaten to an inch of his life and then left to die, which he unfortunately did.
News of his demise didn’t reach the troupe until a week later, when one of the members went into town to see what the holdup was. The shock and grief affected Shiyan greatly, leaving her catatonic. It was during this time that little Ashfa had no choice but to grow up rather quickly. At only five years she had to learn not only how to make fire, but to cook basic meals. She was no prodigy, and there were many mistrials. It was when the leader threatened to get rid of Ashfa that Shiyan finally broke out of her state of grief. By this time, however, Ashfa was nearing six years of age, and the rest of the troupe was having doubts about whether to keep them.
Whilst Shiyan was able to return to her former self, something else took her in the way of a sickness. It started slowly but persistently increased, until Ashfa turned ten years old and the sickness completely consumed her mother, inevitable ending in her her death.
Ashfa was now alone, and although she could now do whatever her mother did, the troupe did not see that sort of value in her, instead wishing to use her for the entertainment of their guests. Ashfa was a quiet and meek sort, but she wasn’t stupid. When she realized what was being planned for her, she quietly packed her bags and left in the night. It took a couple of days of travelling and hiding, but she reached what she’d always grown up to hear as the great and grand city of Bahman. It was much bigger than she was used to, but that only meant there was more opportunity for her to find someplace that would take her in.
It seemed luck was finally on her side, when an old weak-eyed man named Nazir allowed her to stay with him. He was a herbalist, known for making remedies and potions as well as perfumes. He needed a pair of hands and eyes that would help him out, whilst she needed a safe place to stay. The relationship between the two was a little awkward at first, having been based on need, but as the days went on, Ashfa and Nazir grew close, like a family. She stayed with him for a good five years, during which she learned much of his trade, both in book and practical knowledge. It was therefore a rather sad time for Ashfa when Nazir finally passed on. It was expected, seeing he was so aged, but nonetheless still sad.
This was what eventually drove Ashfa to start travelling. She had all the tools she needed to be to work and sustain herself without the need of anyone else. And so it continued for a good three years. She would wander through Bahman city, and even venture a little north, though never more than a day's distance from her birth land. She didn't have any attachment to it per say, but she wasn't sure she would be able to survive unventured lands by herself.
All this changed on one fateful day. Ashfa had been on the verge of returning home when she stopped by an inn to rest the night. She didn't want to travel at night, as she wouldn't be able to make any progress in the cold darkness. Before ordering her meal for the night, she met an unusual woman from the North. Not the friendliest person, but Ashfa didn't sense any danger from her, though she did feel the woman was in a rush, perhaps in some danger. She didn't think too much of it and after selling a couple of her remedies, she decided to have dinner.
She had barely started to eat when guards burst into the inn. She was both surprised and shocked when she found herself being accused by guards of being partner to a crime. At first she had absolutely no idea what they were talking about and readily allowed them to search her bag. However, when the contraband was discovered, Ashfa panicked. Rather than being calm and rational, she ran for the door, which turned out to be the wrong thing to do. She something hard hit against the back of her head, causing her to fall to the ground and black out for a little while.
It was only after she was able to move once more that she saw what had happened. It turned out the woman she had met just before sitting down to eat. Everything was a bit of a blur, but she clearly heard the woman telling her to run, and she wasn’t averse to doing that at the moment. In fact, it was the first thing on her agenda. So Ashfa ran as fast as she could, with quite a bit of wobbling and stumbling, as she was both dizzy and had a headache. Eventually they reached an alleyway, where the woman collapsed. On further inspection, Ashfa realized that she was bleeding. The guilt hit her immediate. This stranger had tried to keep her from harm, so much so that she had gotten hurt. Without further ado, Ashfa quickly dragged the woman to the nearest secluded place she could find, where she quickly cleaned and sutured the wounds the woman had received.
And so began the rather strange partnership. At first it was strange for the Bahmi to be travelling with a companion, but she found that she actually liked it. There was safety in numbers, and now she was travelling past the limits she had set for herself. Not only was it exciting to visit different places and see new sights and people, regardless of her shyness, but she could know harvest as well as purchase different herbs, flowers and other such materials needed for different salves and medicines. She passed through Khauran a couple of times, even heading as south as Rakatstad, from where the Bahmi had seen the ocean for the first time. It had been quite a sight, both awe inspiring as well as intimidating.
She has yet to make any sea travel, however. Currently, she and her companion (Ylva) are in Khauran, camping between Rakatstad and Caelfath.
Running away wasn't an easy feat, but they did manage to reach the edge of the city, where they joined a traveling troupe of entertainers including dancers, puppeteers, snake charmers, contortionists and others of the sort. There were even a few nnon-Valekian including on Khaddorian, and one member who looked suspiciously like an elf.. Shiyan wasn't into any entertaining, but she did know how to cook and sew, and that was an asset for the troupe. Bin'dair meanwhile proved his worth by doing heavy lifting and taking care of their belongings, seeing he was good with a sword.
As such, life was quite well for the two, and after ten years of living peacefully, Shiyan gave birth to their only child, naming her Ashfa after her mother. Both mother and father doted on the little girl, though the rest of the troupe weren't too thrilled with an extra mouth to feed. Still, they valued Shiyan and Bin'dair a little too much to tell them to leave. Whilst the new parents were indeed taken by their baby girl, they knew that leaving their duties incomplete would lead to their being forced out. As such, they worked extra hard to keep their worth.
When Ashfa was barely five years of age, tragedy struck the little family. Bin’dair had been sent to the city to buy and sell some wares for the troupe. Money was obviously needed, and they didn’t count on their entertainment to keep everything running. Whilst in town, the young man thought to visit his family. It had been fifteen years since he had left with Shiyan; he had presumed that his family would have forgiven him by now. He was unfortunately dead wrong. It turned out that his older brother had been punished by death for his misdeeds by Shiyan’s family, and Bin’dair’s parents blamed their wayward son. He was ‘taught’ a lesson, beaten to an inch of his life and then left to die, which he unfortunately did.
News of his demise didn’t reach the troupe until a week later, when one of the members went into town to see what the holdup was. The shock and grief affected Shiyan greatly, leaving her catatonic. It was during this time that little Ashfa had no choice but to grow up rather quickly. At only five years she had to learn not only how to make fire, but to cook basic meals. She was no prodigy, and there were many mistrials. It was when the leader threatened to get rid of Ashfa that Shiyan finally broke out of her state of grief. By this time, however, Ashfa was nearing six years of age, and the rest of the troupe was having doubts about whether to keep them.
Whilst Shiyan was able to return to her former self, something else took her in the way of a sickness. It started slowly but persistently increased, until Ashfa turned ten years old and the sickness completely consumed her mother, inevitable ending in her her death.
Ashfa was now alone, and although she could now do whatever her mother did, the troupe did not see that sort of value in her, instead wishing to use her for the entertainment of their guests. Ashfa was a quiet and meek sort, but she wasn’t stupid. When she realized what was being planned for her, she quietly packed her bags and left in the night. It took a couple of days of travelling and hiding, but she reached what she’d always grown up to hear as the great and grand city of Bahman. It was much bigger than she was used to, but that only meant there was more opportunity for her to find someplace that would take her in.
It seemed luck was finally on her side, when an old weak-eyed man named Nazir allowed her to stay with him. He was a herbalist, known for making remedies and potions as well as perfumes. He needed a pair of hands and eyes that would help him out, whilst she needed a safe place to stay. The relationship between the two was a little awkward at first, having been based on need, but as the days went on, Ashfa and Nazir grew close, like a family. She stayed with him for a good five years, during which she learned much of his trade, both in book and practical knowledge. It was therefore a rather sad time for Ashfa when Nazir finally passed on. It was expected, seeing he was so aged, but nonetheless still sad.
This was what eventually drove Ashfa to start travelling. She had all the tools she needed to be to work and sustain herself without the need of anyone else. And so it continued for a good three years. She would wander through Bahman city, and even venture a little north, though never more than a day's distance from her birth land. She didn't have any attachment to it per say, but she wasn't sure she would be able to survive unventured lands by herself.
All this changed on one fateful day. Ashfa had been on the verge of returning home when she stopped by an inn to rest the night. She didn't want to travel at night, as she wouldn't be able to make any progress in the cold darkness. Before ordering her meal for the night, she met an unusual woman from the North. Not the friendliest person, but Ashfa didn't sense any danger from her, though she did feel the woman was in a rush, perhaps in some danger. She didn't think too much of it and after selling a couple of her remedies, she decided to have dinner.
She had barely started to eat when guards burst into the inn. She was both surprised and shocked when she found herself being accused by guards of being partner to a crime. At first she had absolutely no idea what they were talking about and readily allowed them to search her bag. However, when the contraband was discovered, Ashfa panicked. Rather than being calm and rational, she ran for the door, which turned out to be the wrong thing to do. She something hard hit against the back of her head, causing her to fall to the ground and black out for a little while.
It was only after she was able to move once more that she saw what had happened. It turned out the woman she had met just before sitting down to eat. Everything was a bit of a blur, but she clearly heard the woman telling her to run, and she wasn’t averse to doing that at the moment. In fact, it was the first thing on her agenda. So Ashfa ran as fast as she could, with quite a bit of wobbling and stumbling, as she was both dizzy and had a headache. Eventually they reached an alleyway, where the woman collapsed. On further inspection, Ashfa realized that she was bleeding. The guilt hit her immediate. This stranger had tried to keep her from harm, so much so that she had gotten hurt. Without further ado, Ashfa quickly dragged the woman to the nearest secluded place she could find, where she quickly cleaned and sutured the wounds the woman had received.
And so began the rather strange partnership. At first it was strange for the Bahmi to be travelling with a companion, but she found that she actually liked it. There was safety in numbers, and now she was travelling past the limits she had set for herself. Not only was it exciting to visit different places and see new sights and people, regardless of her shyness, but she could know harvest as well as purchase different herbs, flowers and other such materials needed for different salves and medicines. She passed through Khauran a couple of times, even heading as south as Rakatstad, from where the Bahmi had seen the ocean for the first time. It had been quite a sight, both awe inspiring as well as intimidating.
She has yet to make any sea travel, however. Currently, she and her companion (Ylva) are in Khauran, camping between Rakatstad and Caelfath.
Author Notes: *Signs contract with blood* Aside from that, I have to say I love the intensive work that has gone into building this roleplay, I like how helpful the GM, and I enjoy the fact that we’re allowed to help in the lore of the game.
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★Under The Stars★
Celestial Royal
Name:
Kaireina Krakeruff
Pronunciation:
Kai-Rei-Nuh Crack-Heir-Roof
Nicknames/Alias:
Aldemeri Tau
(Iron-Willed Woman)
Age:
19
Gender:
Female
Sexuality:
Bisexual with Female Lean
Date/Place of Birth:
Tyme 13th | The Metza of Khauran
Current Residence/Location:
Medium-sized Hut For Three (Lives Alone) | Rakatstad
Nationality/Species:
Khaddorian
Occupation:
Technically unemployed, but Kaireina is known as a scholarly woman.
Kaireina Krakeruff
Pronunciation:
Kai-Rei-Nuh Crack-Heir-Roof
Nicknames/Alias:
Aldemeri Tau
(Iron-Willed Woman)
Age:
19
Gender:
Female
Sexuality:
Bisexual with Female Lean
Date/Place of Birth:
Tyme 13th | The Metza of Khauran
Current Residence/Location:
Medium-sized Hut For Three (Lives Alone) | Rakatstad
Nationality/Species:
Khaddorian
Occupation:
Technically unemployed, but Kaireina is known as a scholarly woman.
Childhood/Family Life:
Who they grew up with, family life in general?
She grew up with a Father, Mother, and Elder Brother.
Does your character know who their parents are, are they the biological parents, what were their expectations for your character?
She does know who her parents are, as they raised her alongside her brother. She knows that they are her biological parents, even if she has not been told. She knows this to be true. Her parents only expected her to accept the knowledge that was bestowed upon her as they traveled, widening her mind’s eye, and helping her to expand her wealth of knowledge.
Any particular memories, traumatic or life changing?
Her parents were murdered under terrible pretenses. They were attacked by Valekian villagers who didn’t take kindly to their presence. Her brother helped her get away and she has not seen him since that incident. That was when she was 14.
Did your character grow up in a specific type of culture or belief system that shapes who they are now?
Her parents worshipped under the Dralnian religion and she is a devout believer in this belief system. She specifically worships Liola for her large variety of beliefs and loose moral system.
Any lingering health problems or hereditary family illnesses?
She is a very healthy woman.
Education:
Kaireina did not grow up particularly wealthy, but she never wanted for anything because all she sought was knowledge. The most expensive thing she had ever wanted was a jewel-encrusted lamp because she thought maybe a genie would pop out. She quickly learned that it was unlikely for a genie to pop out, but she has held onto that lamp. Kaireina grew up around groups of very knowledgeable people of all backgrounds. Her parents were adventurers who moved constantly and Kaireina learned many things from them and where they visited.
Accomplishments:
The princess, her parents, and the Valekian villagers that killed her parents are what have shaped her. The princess is obviously a positive influence. She has opened a lot of doors and it has allowed Kaireina to have experiences that she never could have without her. Her parents taught her all she could know about Math, Reading, Writing, Science, and other subjects. (Reading and Writing was strictly limited to Jorgethi. Everything else she learned from kinder Merus or Elvish people.)
Regrets:
Kaireina doesn’t have many regrets. However, the one true regret she has was not being able to help her parents more in their time of need. As a teenager, she felt that she should’ve been able to defend herself since it was about time for her to enter the rite of passage.
Secrets:
Kaireina knows many things about the Princess that she probably should not. She is also aware that her family once had standing within the royal lines of the Jotaig tribe. However, her family was eviscerated from the royal lines many years ago, to her knowledge. She knows that this may not be completely relevant now, but she feels tied to the House of Elders and their government-of-sorts.
Who they grew up with, family life in general?
She grew up with a Father, Mother, and Elder Brother.
Does your character know who their parents are, are they the biological parents, what were their expectations for your character?
She does know who her parents are, as they raised her alongside her brother. She knows that they are her biological parents, even if she has not been told. She knows this to be true. Her parents only expected her to accept the knowledge that was bestowed upon her as they traveled, widening her mind’s eye, and helping her to expand her wealth of knowledge.
Any particular memories, traumatic or life changing?
Her parents were murdered under terrible pretenses. They were attacked by Valekian villagers who didn’t take kindly to their presence. Her brother helped her get away and she has not seen him since that incident. That was when she was 14.
Did your character grow up in a specific type of culture or belief system that shapes who they are now?
Her parents worshipped under the Dralnian religion and she is a devout believer in this belief system. She specifically worships Liola for her large variety of beliefs and loose moral system.
Any lingering health problems or hereditary family illnesses?
She is a very healthy woman.
Education:
Kaireina did not grow up particularly wealthy, but she never wanted for anything because all she sought was knowledge. The most expensive thing she had ever wanted was a jewel-encrusted lamp because she thought maybe a genie would pop out. She quickly learned that it was unlikely for a genie to pop out, but she has held onto that lamp. Kaireina grew up around groups of very knowledgeable people of all backgrounds. Her parents were adventurers who moved constantly and Kaireina learned many things from them and where they visited.
Accomplishments:
The princess, her parents, and the Valekian villagers that killed her parents are what have shaped her. The princess is obviously a positive influence. She has opened a lot of doors and it has allowed Kaireina to have experiences that she never could have without her. Her parents taught her all she could know about Math, Reading, Writing, Science, and other subjects. (Reading and Writing was strictly limited to Jorgethi. Everything else she learned from kinder Merus or Elvish people.)
Regrets:
Kaireina doesn’t have many regrets. However, the one true regret she has was not being able to help her parents more in their time of need. As a teenager, she felt that she should’ve been able to defend herself since it was about time for her to enter the rite of passage.
Secrets:
Kaireina knows many things about the Princess that she probably should not. She is also aware that her family once had standing within the royal lines of the Jotaig tribe. However, her family was eviscerated from the royal lines many years ago, to her knowledge. She knows that this may not be completely relevant now, but she feels tied to the House of Elders and their government-of-sorts.
Virtues:
Kaireina does not have any particular virtues, with the exception that knowledge can never be corrupted. It can be manipulated and it can be told in segments, but it may never be fabricated.
Kaireina does not have any particular virtues, with the exception that knowledge can never be corrupted. It can be manipulated and it can be told in segments, but it may never be fabricated.
Skills:
Not the most notable of talents, but Kaireina is quite the actress. When it comes to playing roles and being of use to someone in a context she isn’t used to, she’s one of the best people you can get to convince someone of something. (That doesn’t mean she’ll actually do what you ask though.) She is a master of changing faces constantly. Of course, she likes to keep herself genuine, but there sometimes calls for acting.
Another talent she has is that she is extremely flexible and quick. From her early childhood, she learned how to climb and travel quickly from place-to-place with her parents. On more than a few occasions, her family was required to live in places that were hard to get to in order to protect themselves, so she’s learned how to move herself efficiently.
Kaireina is a skilled user of scimitars and glaives, as mentioned before. Her parents taught her to use a glaive to hunt, but they also taught her how to use it in self-defense lest she ever need her skill for that. Scimitars are somewhat similar to glaives, but much shorter, so it was easy for Kaireina to adapt to using that weapon.
Positives (Strengths):
Persuasive
Learned
Flexible
Quick
Adaptive
Quick Study
Negatives (Weaknesses):
Seemingly Airheaded
Not Particularly Strong
Always Seems To Have An Answer For Everything
Always Looking For Answers
Holds Back Her True Thoughts From Most
Whore for Knowledge
Flaws:
Kaireina is often seen as passive in highly public places, although this isn’t meant to hurt anyone. She simply wishes to help other people by not passing judgement, but it is taken as snootiness most of the time. Hence, why she is given her nickname. When she is not in highly public places like with the House of Elders or in private quarters, her jittery and excitable nature shines through much more.
Personality Types:
ENFP
Archetypes:
The Bubbly One
The Knowledgeable One
The Best Friend
Dreams/Ambitions:
Kaireina seeks to prove to the world that there is more to the world than they might believe. Many people are kept chained to their ideals because of their outlook. Kaireina seeks to get rid of the predispositions everyone has and create a world that is open to interpretation and not bound by superficial rules and biases.
Fears:
Kaireina fears that she will be useless and that what she knows of the world is tainted by dishonesty and lies. She fears that the races of the world may one day come to destroy each other. She mostly fears that one day she may have to abandon everything and everyone she knows.
Views on Death:
“Death is a part of the cycle. Even though it is unknown what may come after death, I like to believe all souls are brought to peace; no matter their choices in life.”
Not the most notable of talents, but Kaireina is quite the actress. When it comes to playing roles and being of use to someone in a context she isn’t used to, she’s one of the best people you can get to convince someone of something. (That doesn’t mean she’ll actually do what you ask though.) She is a master of changing faces constantly. Of course, she likes to keep herself genuine, but there sometimes calls for acting.
Another talent she has is that she is extremely flexible and quick. From her early childhood, she learned how to climb and travel quickly from place-to-place with her parents. On more than a few occasions, her family was required to live in places that were hard to get to in order to protect themselves, so she’s learned how to move herself efficiently.
Kaireina is a skilled user of scimitars and glaives, as mentioned before. Her parents taught her to use a glaive to hunt, but they also taught her how to use it in self-defense lest she ever need her skill for that. Scimitars are somewhat similar to glaives, but much shorter, so it was easy for Kaireina to adapt to using that weapon.
Positives (Strengths):
Persuasive
Learned
Flexible
Quick
Adaptive
Quick Study
Negatives (Weaknesses):
Seemingly Airheaded
Not Particularly Strong
Always Seems To Have An Answer For Everything
Always Looking For Answers
Holds Back Her True Thoughts From Most
Whore for Knowledge
Flaws:
Kaireina is often seen as passive in highly public places, although this isn’t meant to hurt anyone. She simply wishes to help other people by not passing judgement, but it is taken as snootiness most of the time. Hence, why she is given her nickname. When she is not in highly public places like with the House of Elders or in private quarters, her jittery and excitable nature shines through much more.
Personality Types:
ENFP
Archetypes:
The Bubbly One
The Knowledgeable One
The Best Friend
Dreams/Ambitions:
Kaireina seeks to prove to the world that there is more to the world than they might believe. Many people are kept chained to their ideals because of their outlook. Kaireina seeks to get rid of the predispositions everyone has and create a world that is open to interpretation and not bound by superficial rules and biases.
Fears:
Kaireina fears that she will be useless and that what she knows of the world is tainted by dishonesty and lies. She fears that the races of the world may one day come to destroy each other. She mostly fears that one day she may have to abandon everything and everyone she knows.
Views on Death:
“Death is a part of the cycle. Even though it is unknown what may come after death, I like to believe all souls are brought to peace; no matter their choices in life.”
Parents:
- Mother -
Deceased
Excellent Relationship
Sweet, Knowledgeable, Strong
Was her mentor for cartography, reading, writing, and math. She taught Kaireina how to hunt with a glaive.
- Father -
Deceased
Excellent Relationship
Caring, Courageous, Trusting
Was her mentor for survival skills, acrobatics, science, and spoken languages. He taught Kaireina to use scimitars and fight smart.
Siblings:
- Brother -
Status Unknown
Immaculate Relationship
Playful, Teasing, Encouraging
Uplifted Kaireina as she learned the skills needed for the rite of passage in the Jotaig tribe. He also functioned as an outlet for emotional problems when the going got tough and she didn’t know who to turn to. He loved to make fun of her, but she knew it was all in good taste.
Ex-Partners:
- Lover #1 (Name Unknown) -
Status Unknown, And Not Cared About
Detached Relationship
Funny, Intense, Emotional
This partner was much too attached to Kaireina. She loved them for a small period of time when she was in the Valekian area. He was a smart man and he seemed to take a liking to her a little too much. He was not to the point of being abusive, but he used her race as an excuse to make passes at her. She liked it at first, but then ended things when the going got rough. This person tracked Kaireina down and tried to rape her. Kaireina was a bad son-of-a-gun and made sure to leave some permanent claw marks to make sure he knew who was boss. She was younger when this happened, approximately mid-14s. She believes this person may have caused her parents’ deaths because they cried about the claw marks they received.
- Shikila Byklan -
Friendly/Attracted Status
Kind, Understanding, Empathetic
Shikila was once a passionate lover of Kaireina. She was all that Kaireina had wanted after the man-that-shall-remain-unnamed inadvertently killed her parents. She met Shikila in a village outside of Rakatstad, when she had turned 16 and decided to venture out on her own for the first time in a while. Shikila was a woman who was much younger than she was. Shikila was not significantly older when they first met, being only 20, but she contained wisdom and understanding that Kaireina craved. Kaireina had many passionate times with Shikila, but they have settled down after it. They realized that they are just only attracted to one another, which made Kaireina bump them down to the status of just friends. However, if the time came where Kaireina was ready to settle down, she believes that Shikila would be her best choice.
Friends:
- Princess __________ (TBD) -
Extremely Friendly Status
Brash, Strong, Leader
(Description TBD)
Enemies:
- Lover #1 -
These reasons are probably pretty obvious if you read what happened above.
- Johrtteni Kamikat -
Extremely Unfriendly Status
Willful, Imperceptive, Deceitful
Kaireina has had bouts with this gentleman on many occasions, considering he is a fellow scholar. However, many of the oral proclamations he has had are for political gain against the Princess and the Chieftain. Kaireina has been upset on many occasions because he has decided many times to thwart upcoming events from the throne. He has fabricated many lies to keep the marriage between the Princess of the Jotaig tribe and the Prince of the Tauren from happening, which Kaireina has often dismantled because she is a respected figure in the community.
- Tauren’s Gay Lover (Prince’s Best Friend) -
Unsettled Status
TBD
TBD
- Mother -
Deceased
Excellent Relationship
Sweet, Knowledgeable, Strong
Was her mentor for cartography, reading, writing, and math. She taught Kaireina how to hunt with a glaive.
- Father -
Deceased
Excellent Relationship
Caring, Courageous, Trusting
Was her mentor for survival skills, acrobatics, science, and spoken languages. He taught Kaireina to use scimitars and fight smart.
Siblings:
- Brother -
Status Unknown
Immaculate Relationship
Playful, Teasing, Encouraging
Uplifted Kaireina as she learned the skills needed for the rite of passage in the Jotaig tribe. He also functioned as an outlet for emotional problems when the going got tough and she didn’t know who to turn to. He loved to make fun of her, but she knew it was all in good taste.
Ex-Partners:
- Lover #1 (Name Unknown) -
Status Unknown, And Not Cared About
Detached Relationship
Funny, Intense, Emotional
This partner was much too attached to Kaireina. She loved them for a small period of time when she was in the Valekian area. He was a smart man and he seemed to take a liking to her a little too much. He was not to the point of being abusive, but he used her race as an excuse to make passes at her. She liked it at first, but then ended things when the going got rough. This person tracked Kaireina down and tried to rape her. Kaireina was a bad son-of-a-gun and made sure to leave some permanent claw marks to make sure he knew who was boss. She was younger when this happened, approximately mid-14s. She believes this person may have caused her parents’ deaths because they cried about the claw marks they received.
- Shikila Byklan -
Friendly/Attracted Status
Kind, Understanding, Empathetic
Shikila was once a passionate lover of Kaireina. She was all that Kaireina had wanted after the man-that-shall-remain-unnamed inadvertently killed her parents. She met Shikila in a village outside of Rakatstad, when she had turned 16 and decided to venture out on her own for the first time in a while. Shikila was a woman who was much younger than she was. Shikila was not significantly older when they first met, being only 20, but she contained wisdom and understanding that Kaireina craved. Kaireina had many passionate times with Shikila, but they have settled down after it. They realized that they are just only attracted to one another, which made Kaireina bump them down to the status of just friends. However, if the time came where Kaireina was ready to settle down, she believes that Shikila would be her best choice.
Friends:
- Princess __________ (TBD) -
Extremely Friendly Status
Brash, Strong, Leader
(Description TBD)
Enemies:
- Lover #1 -
These reasons are probably pretty obvious if you read what happened above.
- Johrtteni Kamikat -
Extremely Unfriendly Status
Willful, Imperceptive, Deceitful
Kaireina has had bouts with this gentleman on many occasions, considering he is a fellow scholar. However, many of the oral proclamations he has had are for political gain against the Princess and the Chieftain. Kaireina has been upset on many occasions because he has decided many times to thwart upcoming events from the throne. He has fabricated many lies to keep the marriage between the Princess of the Jotaig tribe and the Prince of the Tauren from happening, which Kaireina has often dismantled because she is a respected figure in the community.
- Tauren’s Gay Lover (Prince’s Best Friend) -
Unsettled Status
TBD
TBD
Weapon of Choice:
Glaive
Secondary Weapon:
Pair of Scimitars
Physical/Magical Strengths:
Flexible
Quick
Adaptive
Physical/Magical Weaknesses:
Inexperienced In Battle
More A Scholar Than A Soldier
Weaker Strength-wise
Race Advantage:
Claws as Natural Weapons
Agile
More Perceptive Natural Instincts
Glaive
Secondary Weapon:
Pair of Scimitars
Physical/Magical Strengths:
Flexible
Quick
Adaptive
Physical/Magical Weaknesses:
Inexperienced In Battle
More A Scholar Than A Soldier
Weaker Strength-wise
Race Advantage:
Claws as Natural Weapons
Agile
More Perceptive Natural Instincts
Height:
6’11’’
Weight:
175 lbs.
General Build:
Slim, Slightly Toned
Hair Color:
Blonde
Eye Color:
Sky Blue
Distinguishing Marks:
Kaireina has places where brown fur will occur in stripes across her body. These stripes are randomly placed around her body, but she has 8 distinct markings around her face. Four on her forehead, heading down toward the bridge of her nose, and two stripes per side on her jaw. Her tail is long and sleek, the hair being unmatted and smooth.
Usual Clothing:
Kaireina is usually seen wearing clothing that is functional, but always somewhat revealing. She is not floozy with the clothing she wears, but she is definitely not modest. Her clothing is always skin-tight and rarely has pieces of fabric hanging from it. She loves the colors blue, purple, and black. She wears those whenever she can, but usually keeps black as an accent color for her clothing. Lest she get in a battle, she believes that the black may give her an edge at night.
6’11’’
Weight:
175 lbs.
General Build:
Slim, Slightly Toned
Hair Color:
Blonde
Eye Color:
Sky Blue
Distinguishing Marks:
Kaireina has places where brown fur will occur in stripes across her body. These stripes are randomly placed around her body, but she has 8 distinct markings around her face. Four on her forehead, heading down toward the bridge of her nose, and two stripes per side on her jaw. Her tail is long and sleek, the hair being unmatted and smooth.
Usual Clothing:
Kaireina is usually seen wearing clothing that is functional, but always somewhat revealing. She is not floozy with the clothing she wears, but she is definitely not modest. Her clothing is always skin-tight and rarely has pieces of fabric hanging from it. She loves the colors blue, purple, and black. She wears those whenever she can, but usually keeps black as an accent color for her clothing. Lest she get in a battle, she believes that the black may give her an edge at night.
Where was your character just before the start of the roleplay?
The only unique event I can think of is the upcoming marriage of the Princess of the Jotaig to the Prince of the Tauren. Other than preparations for the wedding, she does not have anything specific and life-changing happening. The most important person to Kaireina is the Princess right now. However, she is still very curious about what has happened to her brother.
What is the storyline unique to your character?
The plot/setting on the main RP is a group plot, each character needs their own subplot. Their own goals, their own motivational reasons and a conflict which stops them reaching that goal (can be tied to the main plot). Is their conflict internal or external, does your character even know how to reach their goal, if so, what is their next step?
Johrtteni Kamikat is hot on the trail of the marriage and seeks to disband it. He has high standing among the people of the Jotaig to see the current Chieftain removed. Some of them are in the House of Elders and she is concerned that a movement to keep the marriage from happening is imminent. She is trying to do damage control and save the marriage from behind-the-scenes. She is also trying to keep this information from the Princess, lest she go on a rampage and ruin the reputation she has gained with the Tauren.
This conflict is most certainly external (and we don’t have to use this plot if we don’t want to, but it was just an idea since I’ve got a set role in the roleplay). She knows how to keep the marriage from falling apart, but she does not know which step she should take first. She is in need of allies and she will try to seek them out first before she makes a move toward Johrtteni Kamikat and his ploy.
The only unique event I can think of is the upcoming marriage of the Princess of the Jotaig to the Prince of the Tauren. Other than preparations for the wedding, she does not have anything specific and life-changing happening. The most important person to Kaireina is the Princess right now. However, she is still very curious about what has happened to her brother.
What is the storyline unique to your character?
The plot/setting on the main RP is a group plot, each character needs their own subplot. Their own goals, their own motivational reasons and a conflict which stops them reaching that goal (can be tied to the main plot). Is their conflict internal or external, does your character even know how to reach their goal, if so, what is their next step?
Johrtteni Kamikat is hot on the trail of the marriage and seeks to disband it. He has high standing among the people of the Jotaig to see the current Chieftain removed. Some of them are in the House of Elders and she is concerned that a movement to keep the marriage from happening is imminent. She is trying to do damage control and save the marriage from behind-the-scenes. She is also trying to keep this information from the Princess, lest she go on a rampage and ruin the reputation she has gained with the Tauren.
This conflict is most certainly external (and we don’t have to use this plot if we don’t want to, but it was just an idea since I’ve got a set role in the roleplay). She knows how to keep the marriage from falling apart, but she does not know which step she should take first. She is in need of allies and she will try to seek them out first before she makes a move toward Johrtteni Kamikat and his ploy.
Kaireina Krakeruff was a smaller baby born from two members of the Jotaig tribe who had already given birth to another healthy boy. He was six years older than Kaireina at the time of her birth. She was born inside of the forest on Khauran, known as the Metza. Her parents were adventurers who traveled to gain knowledge and insight about their world. They were not scholars by any means, but they made plenty of coin selling maps they made and parts of animals they’d killed. However, the nifty trinkets they found were kept for themselves. On many occasions, they would travel into dark caves and attempt to find a hidden temple or two. More times than not, they would find plenty of items that would point to older cultures and somewhat older religions.
Growing up with her parents was not hard. For the first part of her life, she was carried around until she was able to function fully on her feet. When she was able to walk normally, she was taught how to move on ground that proved treacherous to most by her Father. Her Mother began to teach her more academic skills, like how to read, write, and complete basic math. Her Brother was also given lessons at the same time, but at a different level… At first.
When Kaireina came around to the age of 7, she had interacted with a few races. Although her parents kept her from most interactions with Valekians because she was told that they weren’t on particularly good terms with that race. At this age, Kaireina had only a few more things to learn in regular academic subjects before catching up to her brother. Her brother even admitted on multiple occasions that he hated how much faster she was able to pick up concepts in reading, writing, and complex math. Her Mother taught her as quickly as she could because she was so proud of what she had accomplished in what seemed to be a small period of time. Her Father, however, was not so pleased with the work she was doing in his subjects. She spoke languages just fine, like he had taught her, but her physical skills were severely lacking. When she used weapons, she was slow and lanky. She had trouble adjusting to the weight of a glaive or the speed and accuracy needed to wield scimitars.
As Kaireina grew to the age 10, she had sucked up all of the information that her mother could feed her about the subjects she taught. Kaireina understood the complexities of the language of the Khaddorians and the basic elements of language in the other race’s languages. This gave her time to hone her physical skills while her parents and her brother moved about to find her a new tutor or a new set of tutors.
At age 11, Kaireina had found a new tutor, had mastered the language they taught her, and moved onto another tutor. At this point, she had mastered the Valekian language and the Khaddorian language. Her parents were extremely proud of how quickly she picked up languages and the complexities within them. She began to truly understand that the formalities of the world were based off of understanding and trying to bridge gaps in misunderstandings that could occur. (At least, this was the belief that she took away from these years spent underneath tutors.)
At age 13, she had finished with her last tutor and she spent her time travelling with her parents and brother. Her brother continued to tease that she was too weak and she continued to tease him about how stupid he was in comparison to her. Kaireina loved these years that she spent with her parents hopping from tutor to tutor and she focused on attempting to strengthen her relationship with her family even more than she already had. She attempted to strengthen her relationship with her father by focusing on Acrobatics, which was one of his favorite classes to teach Kaireina and her brother. She did not master all acrobatic moves, but she was definitely flexible enough to move about in a fluid way when in the midst of battle. To please her mother, even moreso than she already had, she attempted to master her weapon. The glaive was a difficult weapon to fight with because it required strength in order to swing it. Yet, you needed to have balance in order to keep yourself from falling over while you were in the midst of swinging. At first, she failed in her attempts to wield the glaive. About a month after she began to focus on this weapon, she began to feel a natural rhythm that pulsed with the use of the weapon. She used this rhythm and began to exploit it. The weapon began to sing to the beat of her rhythm and she was very pleased with herself. As was her Mother. In order to strength her relationship with her brother, she practiced or raced or sparred or did whatever she could to make sure that they were rivals of a sort. Yet, they did not seek to outplay each other simply because they sought sibling rivalry. They sought to better the other and themselves.
At the age of early 14, her parents let her in on their worshipping sessions to the Dralnian gods. However, Kaireina took a special interest in the goddess Liola. As her piece of art that she wished to collect, they were traveling through a Khaddorian village and found a man selling all manner of antiques. He had a certain jewel-encrusted lamp. Even though she thought it was a silly item, mostly because she thought maybe a Djinn might come out, it was beautiful. It caught her eye in many directions and this is something that she asked for her parents to get her as her one item that she needed to truly be a devout worshipper of Liola.
Later in the year, Kaireina had been camped outside of a Valekian town and a boy not much older than her stumbled upon her when she was out collecting some berries for a snack. It was really the first time she had been infatuated with someone. She saw him and immediately felt embarrassed. He seemed slightly scared of her at first, but then he immediately switched into an aggressive person who accosted her for her race. When she began to back away from him and become afraid, he calmed down a little and began to make advances on her. At first, she liked it and then realized what she was doing. She pushed him off of her and ran back toward her camp. The next day when she went to collect a snack, he happened to find her again and more happened. This was like this for a few weeks and the Valekian male accosted her more aggressively each time and he made sure to make it known that she was less than him because he was Valekian and she was Khaddorian. Eventually, she pushed him off and did not return because she did not like what was happening.
In her mid-to-late 14th year, that Valekian male had somehow tracked her down and attempted to rape her. Kaireina had learned what her boundaries were and she disliked what was happening, so she scratched the man’s face and that was that. Or so she thought.
Within the next few days, while Kaireina was asleep, she heard noises coming from surrounding bushes and perked up. Her family was with her, so she awoke them and her parents told her to run as far as she could in the direction of Khauran. Kaireina refused to leave them for the time being, but her brother carried her away from the oncoming ambush. She could hear the screams of her parents and her mother being stabbed with a spear before she left. She fought her brother as hard as she could to get back to her Mother and hug her one last time. She fought so she could kiss her Father goodbye. But, soon enough, a spear came flying and it hit her brother in the back of his leg. He quickly fell to the ground and yelled at Kaireina to run. He stayed for a moment before rushing back toward the group of ambushers. Kaireina ran like her brother instructed her, but she did not look back to see what happened to her brother. She assumed that he was dead, but as she ran further and further away, she hoped that he had escaped somehow and gotten to safety.
Soon after this incident, Kaireina had to take the rite of passage for the Jotaig tribe. She met a girl who was clothed in what seemed to be royal garb, which confused her. Kaireina continued with the rite of passage, using the inner rage of her parents’ deaths as fuel to tap into her feral energies and survive. As she did the rite, she came to realize that the girl held an air about her that seemed more elegant in some way. She soon found out that she was the Princess of the Jotaig tribe.
- More to come about this interaction when the Princess character is accepted. -
After passing the rite of passage and becoming friends with the princess, they interacted frequently. Kaireina knew this was an excellent distraction from the horrible incident that occurred with her parents. As she interacted with the Princess more, she knew that they were in different leagues, but she felt tied to her. Closely tied, so she stuck to her like she stuck to her brother while they were running away.
Kaireina, at the age of 16, stumbled upon a youthful woman while trying to gain information about some of the villages surrounding Rakatstad, who seemed to have an air of knowledge and wisdom surrounding her. This woman’s name was Shikila. (The brief description of their relationship and what happened can be found underneath ‘Relationships’.)
At the age of 18, Kaireina officially became the Princess’ Assistant-of-sorts. She assisted in many castle duties and political affairs. She thwarted attempts made to make the leadership of their tribe look badly and she appeared before the House of Elders to speak concerning many issues in the community. Soon after she became the Princess’ Assistant, she began to get many friendly and antagonistic glances. It seemed that she had gained popularity, in all ways. The enemies she made wanted the Chief and the leadership by them taken out, but went about doing it in sly ways like spreading deceitful rumors and publishing propaganda for the scholars of the villages to read that was completely false regarding the decisions made by the leadership.
The one thing that Kaireina couldn’t stop from being leaked was the fact that the Princess of the Jotaig was going to be married to the Prince of the Tauren to bridge a gap between the two societies made up of the same race. In order to get back what land they had originally had in earlier times, the Khaddorians needed to band together. Kaireina was not sure that this was the best idea to go about doing it, but it was certainly the easiest. In fact, she was a little relieved that it had been leaked when it had because she was in the middle of dealing with some of the preparations in secret. She no longer had to carry out secret wedding arrangements for the Princess.
And that brings Kaireina to the present day. She is currently dealing with a political plot to end the marriage between the Princess of the Jotaig and the Prince of the Tauren.
Growing up with her parents was not hard. For the first part of her life, she was carried around until she was able to function fully on her feet. When she was able to walk normally, she was taught how to move on ground that proved treacherous to most by her Father. Her Mother began to teach her more academic skills, like how to read, write, and complete basic math. Her Brother was also given lessons at the same time, but at a different level… At first.
When Kaireina came around to the age of 7, she had interacted with a few races. Although her parents kept her from most interactions with Valekians because she was told that they weren’t on particularly good terms with that race. At this age, Kaireina had only a few more things to learn in regular academic subjects before catching up to her brother. Her brother even admitted on multiple occasions that he hated how much faster she was able to pick up concepts in reading, writing, and complex math. Her Mother taught her as quickly as she could because she was so proud of what she had accomplished in what seemed to be a small period of time. Her Father, however, was not so pleased with the work she was doing in his subjects. She spoke languages just fine, like he had taught her, but her physical skills were severely lacking. When she used weapons, she was slow and lanky. She had trouble adjusting to the weight of a glaive or the speed and accuracy needed to wield scimitars.
As Kaireina grew to the age 10, she had sucked up all of the information that her mother could feed her about the subjects she taught. Kaireina understood the complexities of the language of the Khaddorians and the basic elements of language in the other race’s languages. This gave her time to hone her physical skills while her parents and her brother moved about to find her a new tutor or a new set of tutors.
At age 11, Kaireina had found a new tutor, had mastered the language they taught her, and moved onto another tutor. At this point, she had mastered the Valekian language and the Khaddorian language. Her parents were extremely proud of how quickly she picked up languages and the complexities within them. She began to truly understand that the formalities of the world were based off of understanding and trying to bridge gaps in misunderstandings that could occur. (At least, this was the belief that she took away from these years spent underneath tutors.)
At age 13, she had finished with her last tutor and she spent her time travelling with her parents and brother. Her brother continued to tease that she was too weak and she continued to tease him about how stupid he was in comparison to her. Kaireina loved these years that she spent with her parents hopping from tutor to tutor and she focused on attempting to strengthen her relationship with her family even more than she already had. She attempted to strengthen her relationship with her father by focusing on Acrobatics, which was one of his favorite classes to teach Kaireina and her brother. She did not master all acrobatic moves, but she was definitely flexible enough to move about in a fluid way when in the midst of battle. To please her mother, even moreso than she already had, she attempted to master her weapon. The glaive was a difficult weapon to fight with because it required strength in order to swing it. Yet, you needed to have balance in order to keep yourself from falling over while you were in the midst of swinging. At first, she failed in her attempts to wield the glaive. About a month after she began to focus on this weapon, she began to feel a natural rhythm that pulsed with the use of the weapon. She used this rhythm and began to exploit it. The weapon began to sing to the beat of her rhythm and she was very pleased with herself. As was her Mother. In order to strength her relationship with her brother, she practiced or raced or sparred or did whatever she could to make sure that they were rivals of a sort. Yet, they did not seek to outplay each other simply because they sought sibling rivalry. They sought to better the other and themselves.
At the age of early 14, her parents let her in on their worshipping sessions to the Dralnian gods. However, Kaireina took a special interest in the goddess Liola. As her piece of art that she wished to collect, they were traveling through a Khaddorian village and found a man selling all manner of antiques. He had a certain jewel-encrusted lamp. Even though she thought it was a silly item, mostly because she thought maybe a Djinn might come out, it was beautiful. It caught her eye in many directions and this is something that she asked for her parents to get her as her one item that she needed to truly be a devout worshipper of Liola.
Later in the year, Kaireina had been camped outside of a Valekian town and a boy not much older than her stumbled upon her when she was out collecting some berries for a snack. It was really the first time she had been infatuated with someone. She saw him and immediately felt embarrassed. He seemed slightly scared of her at first, but then he immediately switched into an aggressive person who accosted her for her race. When she began to back away from him and become afraid, he calmed down a little and began to make advances on her. At first, she liked it and then realized what she was doing. She pushed him off of her and ran back toward her camp. The next day when she went to collect a snack, he happened to find her again and more happened. This was like this for a few weeks and the Valekian male accosted her more aggressively each time and he made sure to make it known that she was less than him because he was Valekian and she was Khaddorian. Eventually, she pushed him off and did not return because she did not like what was happening.
In her mid-to-late 14th year, that Valekian male had somehow tracked her down and attempted to rape her. Kaireina had learned what her boundaries were and she disliked what was happening, so she scratched the man’s face and that was that. Or so she thought.
Within the next few days, while Kaireina was asleep, she heard noises coming from surrounding bushes and perked up. Her family was with her, so she awoke them and her parents told her to run as far as she could in the direction of Khauran. Kaireina refused to leave them for the time being, but her brother carried her away from the oncoming ambush. She could hear the screams of her parents and her mother being stabbed with a spear before she left. She fought her brother as hard as she could to get back to her Mother and hug her one last time. She fought so she could kiss her Father goodbye. But, soon enough, a spear came flying and it hit her brother in the back of his leg. He quickly fell to the ground and yelled at Kaireina to run. He stayed for a moment before rushing back toward the group of ambushers. Kaireina ran like her brother instructed her, but she did not look back to see what happened to her brother. She assumed that he was dead, but as she ran further and further away, she hoped that he had escaped somehow and gotten to safety.
Soon after this incident, Kaireina had to take the rite of passage for the Jotaig tribe. She met a girl who was clothed in what seemed to be royal garb, which confused her. Kaireina continued with the rite of passage, using the inner rage of her parents’ deaths as fuel to tap into her feral energies and survive. As she did the rite, she came to realize that the girl held an air about her that seemed more elegant in some way. She soon found out that she was the Princess of the Jotaig tribe.
- More to come about this interaction when the Princess character is accepted. -
After passing the rite of passage and becoming friends with the princess, they interacted frequently. Kaireina knew this was an excellent distraction from the horrible incident that occurred with her parents. As she interacted with the Princess more, she knew that they were in different leagues, but she felt tied to her. Closely tied, so she stuck to her like she stuck to her brother while they were running away.
Kaireina, at the age of 16, stumbled upon a youthful woman while trying to gain information about some of the villages surrounding Rakatstad, who seemed to have an air of knowledge and wisdom surrounding her. This woman’s name was Shikila. (The brief description of their relationship and what happened can be found underneath ‘Relationships’.)
At the age of 18, Kaireina officially became the Princess’ Assistant-of-sorts. She assisted in many castle duties and political affairs. She thwarted attempts made to make the leadership of their tribe look badly and she appeared before the House of Elders to speak concerning many issues in the community. Soon after she became the Princess’ Assistant, she began to get many friendly and antagonistic glances. It seemed that she had gained popularity, in all ways. The enemies she made wanted the Chief and the leadership by them taken out, but went about doing it in sly ways like spreading deceitful rumors and publishing propaganda for the scholars of the villages to read that was completely false regarding the decisions made by the leadership.
The one thing that Kaireina couldn’t stop from being leaked was the fact that the Princess of the Jotaig was going to be married to the Prince of the Tauren to bridge a gap between the two societies made up of the same race. In order to get back what land they had originally had in earlier times, the Khaddorians needed to band together. Kaireina was not sure that this was the best idea to go about doing it, but it was certainly the easiest. In fact, she was a little relieved that it had been leaked when it had because she was in the middle of dealing with some of the preparations in secret. She no longer had to carry out secret wedding arrangements for the Princess.
And that brings Kaireina to the present day. She is currently dealing with a political plot to end the marriage between the Princess of the Jotaig and the Prince of the Tauren.
The personality section is a little wonky, I'm sorry! Also, I'm in love with the significant amount of lore and beauty put into the core of this universe. Also, it was very fun to create a character that holds some power! I look forward to working with everyone!
Donut
Lord of the Pastries
“Out there are things and places I haven’t seen. I will though. One day. As soon as I move up from swabbing decks and cleaning quarters, you’ll see.”
-POND-
Aryn Talos
/Aer-ehn Tah-los/
Date of birth
Fraicius 12 - Monkey (16)
Place of birth
Eadith
Gender
Male
Species/Racial Origin
Valekian [Bahmi Mother]
Sexual preference
Straight
Social Class/Community Status
A cabin boy doubling as a thief on a pirate ship working to pay off his mother’s debt
Language
Ardaric [Read and write basic Ardaric, more complex books are harder to read]
Family/Friends/Pets/Etc
Helen Talos: “My dear mother who couldn’t pay off her debts with what little money she had, so I offered to work to pay it off. I couldn’t let her suffer anymore and as much as it pained her to see me go, I wouldn’t allow her to regret it”
Myki: “Wouldn't dare go adventuring without her, she’s undoubtedly a one-of-a-kind ferret.”
Occupation
Cabin boy and Thief
Physical Description
Aryn is a short, energy-filled person. He hasn’t shot past 5’4 and everyone makes sure he doesn’t forget it. His toned physique is thanks to all the grunt work the crewmates and his captain have piled onto him over the years. Chin-length, black hair does its best to compliment his freckled, warm tan skin and sharp, golden eyes. His mellow and silvery voice has gotten him out of trouble more than once on occasion and even gained trust from the locals. Aryn’s cat-like gaze holds more than just the object of his attention in sight. One thing that catches a lot of attention is his amputated left arm, many ask how it was lost, but he refuses to tell the tale as it upsets him immensely.
Every day, Aryn sports a cream hoodie covered by a brown vest, baggy white-red pants with a rose on the right leg and brown, leather boots. His belt holds a short sword and several pouches with some of his personal items. When on the job he wears an all black hooded bodysuit and a mask, mainly because his jobs are executed at night. He has rarely had a job in the day and whenever he did there was usually cover provided in advance.
Height: 5’ 4
Weight: 147 lbs
Hair: Black
Eyes: Amber
Limb dexterity
Nimble as an acrobat
-LAKE-
Typical clothing/equipment
Cream hoodie with a brown vest on top
Baggy white-red pants decorated with a rose on the right leg given to him by his mother as a birthday present and a belt with pouches carrying various items and a shortsword
Items in his bags
Smoke bombs
[Around 5-7]
Coin
[Usually, whatever he earns from a job, most of it is stashed away]
Snacks
Blow darts
[10 sleep darts]
Personality
Aryn is a charismatic, determined and intelligent young man. When he speaks, there is almost always a clear intent behind his words and when stating his mind he never fails to miss a detail. Unfortunately, he is a very stubborn adult and this puts him at odds with his crewmates. This puts him in undesirable situations, namely having to stay on the ship and swab the deck until the crew returns.
Skills/Talents
>Parkour
>Sneaking around
>Sleight-of-Hand
>Charm
>Swordsmanship
[Basic techniques and experience from live combat]
Favorite/likes
Sailing
The sound of the waves and seagulls
Seeing new sights and meeting new people
Dislikes
Swabbing the deck and cleaning the crew quarters
Being forced to stay on the ship when docked
Goals/Ambitions
Short term: No longer be a cabin boy and become a respectable member of a pirate crew
Long term: Travel the whole world and explore every sight to see
Strengths
>Curious
>Persistent
>Modest
>Resourceful
Weaknesses
>Stubborn
>Blunt
>Nosey
Fears
>Not accomplishing anything
>Failure
>Death
>Sharks [Selachophobia]
Hobbies
Explore towns and areas
Try new foods
Make friends
Routine
All he wears to bed is underwear and pants, everything else is tossed and scattered around his room before he heads to bed. When Aryn wakes up, he puts personal hygiene above all else. After cleaning himself up, he stretches to loosen himself up for another day of labor. He goes out to eat breakfast early and explores the town a bit before returning to the ship to start work. His cabin boy work mostly consists of cleaning, taking inventory, running errands and stealing whenever information is received for a job.
Attitude about death
Afraid of it. Granted his job involves near death experiences on occasion, Aryn doesn’t want to die early without exploring everything. More than anything he doesn’t want to die via shark attack.
Religion / Beliefs
Aryn was of Dralnian faith, however, he has long since stopped worshipping the gods thanks to the pirate crew, who have severely beaten him for any attempts to do so when he was younger.
Fetishes
None currently, it is the most unexplored region of his life. Mostly because he's still a child.
Education
A couple years of basic education paid for by his mother [Age 5-9]
Learned to be a pirate after leaving home
Read and write in Ardaric
Residence
Formerly Eadith
His cabin below deck
Nearby Inns when he isn’t near the ship
Place of work
The ship, Marlain
Small jobs in town when docked
Past Occupations
None
-SEA-
Born as an only child, Aryn and his mother, Helen lived together in Eadith with what little money they had. His father had left with another woman and took most of their money before he was born and his mother had a hard time coping, but her duty as a mother came first. She cared for him with her very being and was able to put him into school for four years. After moving in between jobs and having to scrape by to survive, she was confronted by an old friend that offered to help with their financial situation. He explained that he had recently come into quite a large sum of money and thought that it’d be nice to help in exchange for shelter. Without a second thought, Helen accepted his offer and ushered him into their home. He introduced himself to Aryn as Malek Hylls and quickly filled the role of a father figure in the young boy’s life.
Several years passed and Aryn, now going on 13 years old, aimed to find a job in town to help support his mother. Much to his dismay he was unable to despite his best efforts and returned home to see the front door of his house kicked in. He stood in the open entrance to see Malek lying dead, a sword lodged in his chest. The murderer hovered over Malek’s corpse, his attention set on Aryn’s mother. He furiously demanded that she tell him where Malek hid the money. Helen, unable to provide the answer he desired, pleaded for her life. He began smashing household objects and yelling at her. He swore that he would return and if she didn't have the money, then he would kill her. With that said, he turned to take his leave from the house, stepping over Malek’s corpse. Aryn drew back and hid as the man passed through the broken doorway. Taking the opportunity, Aryn silently trailed behind Malek’s killer to his destination.
Soon, he found himself at the pier, where a pirate ship was docked. Aryn crept onto the boat and saw the crew on the main deck surrounding the captain. The captain was in the midst of explaining to his crew that Malek had played a game of cards with him and lost several times. Rather than paying up the money he owed, Malek instead stole the winnings and made off with it. Now with Malek dead, they had no way of finding the money he presumably stashed. Malek's killer reported to the captain that Helen must have taken the money and either stashed it or I spent it all. Agreeing, the captain resolved that they could just go back and force the information out of her. Aryn then jumped into the conversation, asking forgiveness and explaining the true situation. But as a punishment for eavesdropping, they amputated him without mercy. With that business taken care of, they made they leave with Aryn, after allowing him to explain to her the situation say goodbye to his mother.
Aryn served under the ship’s crew as a cabin boy, performing various odd jobs around the ship including cleaning the cabins, restocking and taking inventory, deliver messages, trim sails, and standing watch like the other crewman. When he wasn’t slaving away on deck, some crewman would teach him small side jobs done when they were docked. During that time, he discovered that he had a knack for sleight-of-hand and pickpocketing. With those skills, he began work as a beginner thief and steadily took increasingly difficult jobs.
Several years passed and Aryn, now going on 13 years old, aimed to find a job in town to help support his mother. Much to his dismay he was unable to despite his best efforts and returned home to see the front door of his house kicked in. He stood in the open entrance to see Malek lying dead, a sword lodged in his chest. The murderer hovered over Malek’s corpse, his attention set on Aryn’s mother. He furiously demanded that she tell him where Malek hid the money. Helen, unable to provide the answer he desired, pleaded for her life. He began smashing household objects and yelling at her. He swore that he would return and if she didn't have the money, then he would kill her. With that said, he turned to take his leave from the house, stepping over Malek’s corpse. Aryn drew back and hid as the man passed through the broken doorway. Taking the opportunity, Aryn silently trailed behind Malek’s killer to his destination.
Soon, he found himself at the pier, where a pirate ship was docked. Aryn crept onto the boat and saw the crew on the main deck surrounding the captain. The captain was in the midst of explaining to his crew that Malek had played a game of cards with him and lost several times. Rather than paying up the money he owed, Malek instead stole the winnings and made off with it. Now with Malek dead, they had no way of finding the money he presumably stashed. Malek's killer reported to the captain that Helen must have taken the money and either stashed it or I spent it all. Agreeing, the captain resolved that they could just go back and force the information out of her. Aryn then jumped into the conversation, asking forgiveness and explaining the true situation. But as a punishment for eavesdropping, they amputated him without mercy. With that business taken care of, they made they leave with Aryn, after allowing him to explain to her the situation say goodbye to his mother.
Aryn served under the ship’s crew as a cabin boy, performing various odd jobs around the ship including cleaning the cabins, restocking and taking inventory, deliver messages, trim sails, and standing watch like the other crewman. When he wasn’t slaving away on deck, some crewman would teach him small side jobs done when they were docked. During that time, he discovered that he had a knack for sleight-of-hand and pickpocketing. With those skills, he began work as a beginner thief and steadily took increasingly difficult jobs.
TRIVIA>Makes it a point not to reveal how capable he can manage with just one arm, mainly to prevent his debtors from retaining him
>When there is something he can’t do he catches himself muttering “If I had my other arm…”
>Writes to his mother often, but would much rather visit her when able
>Prides himself in his ability to get along with the locals when speaking to crewmates, just to irritate them
>Wants to find a book or someone who knows magic so he can learn even if just a little bit like party tricks
>Doesn’t ever regret leaving to pay off his mother’s debt
Author's notes
Apart from the detailed world and lore, I really enjoy the depth and weight put into creating characters. Simply working on Aryn was a fruitful experience as to how much more I can learn when creating a realistic character.
Apart from the detailed world and lore, I really enjoy the depth and weight put into creating characters. Simply working on Aryn was a fruitful experience as to how much more I can learn when creating a realistic character.
[border]THANKS FOR READING![/border]
d1uni5ys24si3o
One Thousand Club
Very Brief CS for General Knowledge
The Khaddorian Prince of Nothing| Truth be told, the easy choice is never the right choice. Prince Helsien IV |
Name: Helsien IV Uzbekidar
Pronunciation: Hell-si-enn Fourth Oo-zee-be-ki-daar
Nicknames/Alias:
- Prince of Tauren: due to his legacy and royal bloodline
- Princess: Nickname given to him when in the army.
- Hell or Sien: diminutive of his name
Age: 20 years old.
Gender: Cis-Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Date/Place of Birth:
Current Residence/Location: Caelfath, Western Khauran.
Nationality/Species: Khaddorian of the Tauren tribe.
Occupation: Centurion
Rank:
- Prince of Caelfath
- Dohosan (Lord) Uzbekidar
- Kaist Uzbekidar
conman2163
Leader of the Conmanist Party
Philosophy of Life: "The world is large, and there is much to explore. My library is large too, and there is also much to explore there. The struggle is to find the balance between the two."
Name: Caladir Arcamenal
Pronunciation: Cal-in-der Arc-a-men-all
Date of Birth: February 5th
Age: 120 years
Place of Birth: Eadith
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Female
Species/Racial Origin: Elven
Social Class/ Community Status: Noble
Language: Tarien
Pronunciation: Cal-in-der Arc-a-men-all
Date of Birth: February 5th
Age: 120 years
Place of Birth: Eadith
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Female
Species/Racial Origin: Elven
Social Class/ Community Status: Noble
Language: Tarien
Physical Description: Adorned with a sharp, piercing gaze and a scowl that almost never seems to leave his face, as well as a scar on the corner of his left eyebrow and another scar that stretches from the tip of his right shoulder across his back in a jagged line to the bottom of his left shoulder blade. His teeth are a perfect white, with more pronounced canines taking a sharp and prominent appearance when he smiles, which is rarely enough. Caladir's hair is a mop of brownish black that seems to change according to lighting, the pigment shifting, his skin is fair and white, and his eyes seem to stick with the theme of his face, the flint grey contrasting with his skin. All along his hand are numerous scars that are generally covered by black leather gloves, which are not removed save only for in the comfort of his own home. His stance is that of a slouch, and he often chooses to wear dark, baggy clothing to hide his form, giving him a lazy appearance. However, concealed beneath the baggy clothes is taut, sinewy muscles from intense physical training.
Height: 6'1
Weight: 200 lbs.
Hair: Dark mix of brownish black
Eyes: Flint grey
Limb Dexterity: High[/B]
Detailed Physical Description: An athletic build but sagging posture, with taut sinewy muscle spread all over his body as a result of physical training and rigour. Notable attributes are the numerous scars on his hands, the long scar on his back, and the small vertical scar on his left eyebrow.[/B]
Typical Clothing/Equipment: Calindar prefers to wear a full tunic and cloak with cowl. Though recent events have prevented such a thing.
Height: 6'1
Weight: 200 lbs.
Hair: Dark mix of brownish black
Eyes: Flint grey
Limb Dexterity: High[/B]
Detailed Physical Description: An athletic build but sagging posture, with taut sinewy muscle spread all over his body as a result of physical training and rigour. Notable attributes are the numerous scars on his hands, the long scar on his back, and the small vertical scar on his left eyebrow.[/B]
Typical Clothing/Equipment: Calindar prefers to wear a full tunic and cloak with cowl. Though recent events have prevented such a thing.
Personality/Attitude: Calindar is best described as "whimsical", he can at times be entirely interested only in reading, only to get up the next moment because he feels restless and wishes to move about. The same can be seen in his attitude and behavior, as well as in the way he talks. The way he speaks adapts to the situation, switching from completely polite and calm to angry, cursing, and riled up should the need arise.
Skills/Talents: Calindar can speak and understand many different languages, is an excellent speaker, and is also quite the bookworm.
Goals/Ambitions: Calindar simply seeks to return home one day, and get back to his normal routine.
Strengths: Agility, Knowledge of history, tactical training.
Weaknesses: Unable to just keep his mouth shut sometimes, and his berserker style of fighting means that he is far more willing to take risks in combat that may kill him.
Fears: His father or Elven people finding out about his "night life".
Regular Routine: Wake up, bathe, and eat, read for around an hour, do physical training for two hours, read for another hour, explore the city for around six hours, return home and read for the rest of the day, eat, bathe again, and then go to bed.
Attitude Towards Death: Calindar views death as merely passage into another, more adventurous life. In particular, he believes that those committed to Aher ought to be envied, as they get to enjoy a wondrous trip, the likes of which no mortal could ever hope to understand.
Religion/Beliefs: Dralnian
Fetishes/Strange Behaviors: Calindar seems to enjoy pain quite a bit more than he really should, and is more than willing to put himself in situations where he might get hurt. In combat, Calindar is known to laugh maniacally upon being injured in any form.
Sexual Experience/Values: Calindar is somewhat loose. While many elves believe sexual intercourse to be a sacred act, Calindar believes it to be one of life's many pleasures, and as such he enjoys it at his leisure, particularly with Valekian women. However, he does know the day he finds an elven maiden that he wishes to wed that he will end his frivolous escapades.
Skills/Talents: Calindar can speak and understand many different languages, is an excellent speaker, and is also quite the bookworm.
Goals/Ambitions: Calindar simply seeks to return home one day, and get back to his normal routine.
Strengths: Agility, Knowledge of history, tactical training.
Weaknesses: Unable to just keep his mouth shut sometimes, and his berserker style of fighting means that he is far more willing to take risks in combat that may kill him.
Fears: His father or Elven people finding out about his "night life".
Regular Routine: Wake up, bathe, and eat, read for around an hour, do physical training for two hours, read for another hour, explore the city for around six hours, return home and read for the rest of the day, eat, bathe again, and then go to bed.
Attitude Towards Death: Calindar views death as merely passage into another, more adventurous life. In particular, he believes that those committed to Aher ought to be envied, as they get to enjoy a wondrous trip, the likes of which no mortal could ever hope to understand.
Religion/Beliefs: Dralnian
Fetishes/Strange Behaviors: Calindar seems to enjoy pain quite a bit more than he really should, and is more than willing to put himself in situations where he might get hurt. In combat, Calindar is known to laugh maniacally upon being injured in any form.
Sexual Experience/Values: Calindar is somewhat loose. While many elves believe sexual intercourse to be a sacred act, Calindar believes it to be one of life's many pleasures, and as such he enjoys it at his leisure, particularly with Valekian women. However, he does know the day he finds an elven maiden that he wishes to wed that he will end his frivolous escapades.
Education/Special Training: Calindar has been given a full liberal education, and is, like many of the elves, a scholar. His skills of note pertain in particular to the history of the world, and the wars fought in the past, as well as what little history there is left of the Avariel.
Place/Type of Residence: Elven estate within Eadith
Occupation: Elven Lord
Place of Work: Elven estate
Past Occupations: None
Place/Type of Residence: Elven estate within Eadith
Occupation: Elven Lord
Place of Work: Elven estate
Past Occupations: None
Calindar is a child borne of wedlock, something no one who does not wish to offend the Elhael family mentions in front of either Calindar or his father. His mother was a beautiful noble elven lady by the name of Medui, and his father bedded her out of lust one night. This led to an unexpected pregnancy, and Lord Arcamenal, only recently taking his position, could not risk causing controversy over a child born in such a manner, nor could he risk a feud with the family of Medui. So, he made her his wife, and nine months later Calindar was born. With no other siblings, not only was Calindar to be the Arcamenal heir, but it was naturally assumed he was to be the next lord of the estate. His father, despite having not expected the child, seemed to embrace Calindar fully as a father should. Calindar received an excellent upbringing, and his father spared no expense in the hiring of tutors for his young son. As soon as he was one year of age he began to be groomed to be the lord, taught the history of the elven realm, tutored in the way of the sword, and given an education in mathematics and science. His father took up the role of teaching his son magic, and Calindar showed a great aptitude for the art. By age five he was fast on his way to becoming an excellent heir for the Estate. News of the young elf's potential raced through the elven lordship, and soon many nobles came to see the heir. Through this time not only did his father grow close to Calindar, but also to Medui, the lust he felt for her the night Calindar was conceived transforming into a deep love. For over a century the noble family enjoyed a peaceful life. Calindar made a name for himself as a public servant, frequently exploring the city and finding places to simply pitch in.
However, after one hundred and twenty years the peace was shattered. On a trip that he and his mother made to visit his mother’s family, Calindar and his mother were attacked. A mob of peasants from a local village, feeling disgruntled by the way Lord Arcamenal ran his estate, attacked the pair and the four guards that had been sent with them. Outnumbered, the guards fought a brave rearguard action to allow the pair to escape in the carriage before they were slain. This was only one part of a larger uprising though. A small rebellion started within the Arcemanal estate, and Lord Arcemanal found himself facing an army of five hundred angry peasants led by several members of the local guard marching towards the nearby city which he was responsible for defending. The force was armed with nothing more than farm tools, hunting bows, and whatever weapons had been passed down in their family, a hastily formed militia at best, but still trouble.
After seeing that Calindar and Lady Arcamenal were safely away, Lord Arcamenal summoned his forces, calling upon both the guard of his own home and the tenant knights that he kept as retainers. All in total, the army formed a force of around one hundred, with twenty cavalry, thirty swordsmen, and fifty spearmen, well trained, professional soldiers who had been readied for such an event. They marched off to face the rebels, and entrenched themselves outside the perimeter of the small city, their numbers bolstered to a hundred and fifty by the local guard.
However, the numbers that the peasant mob astoundingly overwhelmed the much better equipped and trained army. All hundred and fifty lay dead, as did Arcamenal. What followed was a sack of the city, followed by a march of the rebels to the castle of the estate, where the skeleton force of guards and where Calindar and Lady Arcamenal were. Her husband dead, and her son barely past the age of adulthood, Lady Arcamenal was the one faced with the choice of defending the keep or surrendering. Given the circumstances, she saw fit to surrender, and without so much as a lifted finger the castle was handed over to the rebels. However, the commander of the force failed to keep control of the undisciplined force and in a chaotic wave they began executing the guards, before moving on into the keep and finding Calindar and Lady Arcamenal inside. The pair had been expecting to greet the commander of the force, but instead were greeted by a mob. Calindar was knocked aside by the mob as they fell over his mother in a wave of anger. The commander of the force, managed to get control of them again, but not before Lady Arcamenal lay dead.
With the Lady of the estate dead, the commander, seeking to keep his sole remaining hostage, threw Calindar in prison. His reason was simple, Calindar’s grandparents and other family would hear of this soon, and they needed leverage. With haste the commander wrote a letter and sent it to the parents of Medui.
The response from the rest of Calindar’s grandparents was not so swift. After a few months, and a few other worried letters from the castle commander, who had set himself up as the local lord (with absolutely no idea what that meant), much of the angry peasant army had disbanded and went home, only to find themselves on the receiving end of a much worse regime of tyranny. When they did get word from Calindar’s grand parents, it was as they brought in a large, highly trained, and professional army to retake the lands and restore order. The tyrant of the estate quickly found himself at the opposite side of a repeat of events. Rather than stay and wait to be surrounded, the leader and six of his men grabbed and made a run for it. They rode on horses away from the castle, making a beeline for the coast which they planned to follow to a port where they could hire a ship.
The group was ambushed by a group of slave catchers on the coast though, and quickly subdued before being stripped of all possessions, and rowed to a ship, and then brought to a market for slaves. However, Calindar was not sold. Rather, the slaver captain kept him, making him his personal slave. For the past six months, Calindar has waited and bided his time, looking for an opportunity to escape, and return to his home once more.
However, after one hundred and twenty years the peace was shattered. On a trip that he and his mother made to visit his mother’s family, Calindar and his mother were attacked. A mob of peasants from a local village, feeling disgruntled by the way Lord Arcamenal ran his estate, attacked the pair and the four guards that had been sent with them. Outnumbered, the guards fought a brave rearguard action to allow the pair to escape in the carriage before they were slain. This was only one part of a larger uprising though. A small rebellion started within the Arcemanal estate, and Lord Arcemanal found himself facing an army of five hundred angry peasants led by several members of the local guard marching towards the nearby city which he was responsible for defending. The force was armed with nothing more than farm tools, hunting bows, and whatever weapons had been passed down in their family, a hastily formed militia at best, but still trouble.
After seeing that Calindar and Lady Arcamenal were safely away, Lord Arcamenal summoned his forces, calling upon both the guard of his own home and the tenant knights that he kept as retainers. All in total, the army formed a force of around one hundred, with twenty cavalry, thirty swordsmen, and fifty spearmen, well trained, professional soldiers who had been readied for such an event. They marched off to face the rebels, and entrenched themselves outside the perimeter of the small city, their numbers bolstered to a hundred and fifty by the local guard.
However, the numbers that the peasant mob astoundingly overwhelmed the much better equipped and trained army. All hundred and fifty lay dead, as did Arcamenal. What followed was a sack of the city, followed by a march of the rebels to the castle of the estate, where the skeleton force of guards and where Calindar and Lady Arcamenal were. Her husband dead, and her son barely past the age of adulthood, Lady Arcamenal was the one faced with the choice of defending the keep or surrendering. Given the circumstances, she saw fit to surrender, and without so much as a lifted finger the castle was handed over to the rebels. However, the commander of the force failed to keep control of the undisciplined force and in a chaotic wave they began executing the guards, before moving on into the keep and finding Calindar and Lady Arcamenal inside. The pair had been expecting to greet the commander of the force, but instead were greeted by a mob. Calindar was knocked aside by the mob as they fell over his mother in a wave of anger. The commander of the force, managed to get control of them again, but not before Lady Arcamenal lay dead.
With the Lady of the estate dead, the commander, seeking to keep his sole remaining hostage, threw Calindar in prison. His reason was simple, Calindar’s grandparents and other family would hear of this soon, and they needed leverage. With haste the commander wrote a letter and sent it to the parents of Medui.
The response from the rest of Calindar’s grandparents was not so swift. After a few months, and a few other worried letters from the castle commander, who had set himself up as the local lord (with absolutely no idea what that meant), much of the angry peasant army had disbanded and went home, only to find themselves on the receiving end of a much worse regime of tyranny. When they did get word from Calindar’s grand parents, it was as they brought in a large, highly trained, and professional army to retake the lands and restore order. The tyrant of the estate quickly found himself at the opposite side of a repeat of events. Rather than stay and wait to be surrounded, the leader and six of his men grabbed and made a run for it. They rode on horses away from the castle, making a beeline for the coast which they planned to follow to a port where they could hire a ship.
The group was ambushed by a group of slave catchers on the coast though, and quickly subdued before being stripped of all possessions, and rowed to a ship, and then brought to a market for slaves. However, Calindar was not sold. Rather, the slaver captain kept him, making him his personal slave. For the past six months, Calindar has waited and bided his time, looking for an opportunity to escape, and return to his home once more.
Author Notes: The chronicles are an intriguing place of lore and wonder. I hope to explore them more with this character.
Last edited:
Applo
New Member
Philosophy of Life
Am I going to get paid for this?
Name: Ylva Uærlig /Il-Va/ - /Ooh-Ahh-Lei/
Date of Birth: Roloph 20th, 27 years old, Fountain
Place of Birth: Dalvik: A small Nord town.
Gender: Female
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual
Species/Racial Origin: Valekian - Nord
Social Class/ Community Status: Transient Criminal
Language: Ardaric & Pigeon Tarien
Family/Friends/Pets/Etc:
Thora Gunnarsdottir:Mother: A somewhat distant relationship, Ylva was always very much her father’s daughter and Thora isn't exactly happy with what Ylva does, still there is a level of mutual respect between the women.
Ursi Uærlig: A younger sister of whom Ylva is extremely fond and protective even though it's been years since they saw one another.
Ashfa: A traveling companion that has somehow wormed their way into Ylva’s heart, not that she would ever admit it willingly. Ylva tries to keep Ashfa away from some of the darker aspects of her life.
Bjorn Hansen: Ylva’s step father, after what has happened between them they aren't on speaking terms, if he’s still alive.
Carl Uærlig: Ylva’s biological father. Talking about him makes her sad, so she doesn't.
Date of Birth: Roloph 20th, 27 years old, Fountain
Place of Birth: Dalvik: A small Nord town.
Gender: Female
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual
Species/Racial Origin: Valekian - Nord
Social Class/ Community Status: Transient Criminal
Language: Ardaric & Pigeon Tarien
Family/Friends/Pets/Etc:
Thora Gunnarsdottir:Mother: A somewhat distant relationship, Ylva was always very much her father’s daughter and Thora isn't exactly happy with what Ylva does, still there is a level of mutual respect between the women.
Ursi Uærlig: A younger sister of whom Ylva is extremely fond and protective even though it's been years since they saw one another.
Ashfa: A traveling companion that has somehow wormed their way into Ylva’s heart, not that she would ever admit it willingly. Ylva tries to keep Ashfa away from some of the darker aspects of her life.
Bjorn Hansen: Ylva’s step father, after what has happened between them they aren't on speaking terms, if he’s still alive.
Carl Uærlig: Ylva’s biological father. Talking about him makes her sad, so she doesn't.
At 5”10 and 160lbs Ylva cuts an unremarkable figure, she is generally somewhat slighter of build than the typical Nord woman, but not so much as to worthy of comment. Ylva has the pale skin of a Nord though years of wandering around the nation have left the skin on her lower arms and face darker than the rest of her where her skin is pale to the point of being semi transparent She tends to wear her roughly cut sable hair loose down to her shoulders but will tie it back on hot days or when she needs to concentrate. Her eyes are a relatively dull blue with webs of yellow running through them. The thing that people do notice, and remember about Ylva are the vivid scars on the right hand side of her face, asking too much about them is a good way to go about getting a matching set. Ylva also has a handful of scars on her torso though most people will never see these.
Normally Ylva favors a dark studded leather jacket over a grey linen tunic teamed with a pair of hard wearing trousers and sturdy boots. On her right hip she carries her father's claymore and a small folding crossbow with a handful of bolts on the left. She also has a large dagger strapped across the small of her back and two smaller blades hidden in her boots. Ylva avoids jewelry unless absolutely needed as it tends to shine at the wrong moment or catch on something. The one exception to this rule is a small metal disc depicting a wolf running under the moon that is fasten round her neck by a hide cord and kept tucked inside her tunic.
Normally Ylva favors a dark studded leather jacket over a grey linen tunic teamed with a pair of hard wearing trousers and sturdy boots. On her right hip she carries her father's claymore and a small folding crossbow with a handful of bolts on the left. She also has a large dagger strapped across the small of her back and two smaller blades hidden in her boots. Ylva avoids jewelry unless absolutely needed as it tends to shine at the wrong moment or catch on something. The one exception to this rule is a small metal disc depicting a wolf running under the moon that is fasten round her neck by a hide cord and kept tucked inside her tunic.
Personality: When first approached Ylva can seem cold and uncaring to the point of rudeness. A life where everyone she meets might be looking to get one over on her has taught her not to trust easily nor wear her heart on her sleeve lest someone use it against her. Over time she may warm to someone if they prove trustworthy but it is unlikely to be anything close to actual friendship. Ylvas loyalties lie first and foremost with herself. There are a few people who can rely on her unconditionally but for most people she will only be an ally as long as her interest match up with theirs and the reward for helping them outweighs the risks. If she feels that something isn't worth the risk she’ll have no qualms about walking away or doing anything necessary to extract herself from a situation.
Skills:
Endurance
Lock picking
Pick pocketing
Likes:
Snow - It reminds her of home.
Grain liquor - it helps her forget and sleep
Dislikes:
Hot weather - Ylva’s a northern girl to her boots and does not enjoy the heat.
City Guards - Occupational hazard
Ambitions: Money, it talks, everything else walks.
Strengths:
Stealthy - Her life as a hunter and then an outlaw has taught Ylva many things. One of the most important lessons she’s learnt is how to move around without being detected.
Dirty Fighter - Ylva has no notion of honor when it comes to fighting. To her mind there's only one important thing in a fight and that is to win, whatever that takes.
Traveler - Used to getting around by foot, life on the road holds little hardship for Ylva.
Weaknesses:
Poorly trained - While she knows that basics of how to swing a weapon, anyone with more than a little formal training will have the advantage on her.
Distrustful - Motivated by her own interest, Ylva can’t be relied on as an ally or confidant or in general.
Undiplomatic - Ylva isn't concerned with other feelings and will speak bluntly and without tact.
Fears:
Imprisonment
Heights
Snakes
Interests:
Hunting
Drinking
Regular Routine: The life of a traveler leaves little room for anything in the way of routine save for waking up and going to sleep
Attitude Towards Death: Ylva is quite fine with death, as long as it's not hers or the few people she cares for. She will fight with every trick she knows and probably a few she makes up on the spot to avoid filling a grave.
Religion/Beliefs: Ylva has a casual relationship with the Dralnian Gods. While she believes they exist, she also believes that praying to them for anything is a waste of perfectly good breath. She has no reservations about breaking any religions laws or taboos if the need arrives, though for the sake of not drawing attention she’ll try not to do this too publicly.
Most Instructive/Painful/Memorable Experience: In the months the Ylva lingered in jail she watched on as the rich bought their way out of prison, often for more serious crimes than her own, sometimes multiple times.
Education/Special Training: Most of what Ylva knows she’s learnt through experience. Her Father did teach her a little of how to hunt and swing a sword and her mother the basics of reading a writing but that as far as anything that could be call a formal education goes. Anything else she has learnt through necessity of from a mistake.
Occupation: Criminal
Place of Work: The nature of Ylva’s profession means that she doesn't really have a single place of business though if a town has a dingy alley or particularly seedy tavern that would be a good place to look for her.
Past Occupations: Hunter
Skills:
Endurance
Lock picking
Pick pocketing
Likes:
Snow - It reminds her of home.
Grain liquor - it helps her forget and sleep
Dislikes:
Hot weather - Ylva’s a northern girl to her boots and does not enjoy the heat.
City Guards - Occupational hazard
Ambitions: Money, it talks, everything else walks.
Strengths:
Stealthy - Her life as a hunter and then an outlaw has taught Ylva many things. One of the most important lessons she’s learnt is how to move around without being detected.
Dirty Fighter - Ylva has no notion of honor when it comes to fighting. To her mind there's only one important thing in a fight and that is to win, whatever that takes.
Traveler - Used to getting around by foot, life on the road holds little hardship for Ylva.
Weaknesses:
Poorly trained - While she knows that basics of how to swing a weapon, anyone with more than a little formal training will have the advantage on her.
Distrustful - Motivated by her own interest, Ylva can’t be relied on as an ally or confidant or in general.
Undiplomatic - Ylva isn't concerned with other feelings and will speak bluntly and without tact.
Fears:
Imprisonment
Heights
Snakes
Interests:
Hunting
Drinking
Regular Routine: The life of a traveler leaves little room for anything in the way of routine save for waking up and going to sleep
Attitude Towards Death: Ylva is quite fine with death, as long as it's not hers or the few people she cares for. She will fight with every trick she knows and probably a few she makes up on the spot to avoid filling a grave.
Religion/Beliefs: Ylva has a casual relationship with the Dralnian Gods. While she believes they exist, she also believes that praying to them for anything is a waste of perfectly good breath. She has no reservations about breaking any religions laws or taboos if the need arrives, though for the sake of not drawing attention she’ll try not to do this too publicly.
Most Instructive/Painful/Memorable Experience: In the months the Ylva lingered in jail she watched on as the rich bought their way out of prison, often for more serious crimes than her own, sometimes multiple times.
Education/Special Training: Most of what Ylva knows she’s learnt through experience. Her Father did teach her a little of how to hunt and swing a sword and her mother the basics of reading a writing but that as far as anything that could be call a formal education goes. Anything else she has learnt through necessity of from a mistake.
Occupation: Criminal
Place of Work: The nature of Ylva’s profession means that she doesn't really have a single place of business though if a town has a dingy alley or particularly seedy tavern that would be a good place to look for her.
Past Occupations: Hunter
The eldest daughter of a poor couple, Ylva was born into a life of hardship and wanting but also happiness and love. Her father in particular doted on Ylva and in many ways treated her like a son, teaching the young girl how to hunt and hold a sword. Thora would have preferred that her daughter spend less time learning to hunt and fight and more time learning the skills that Ylva would need to be considered a good prospect so that she might find a good husband. It was however obvious to Thora that her daughter was the joy of her Carl’s life and she was inclined to indulge her husband and hold her tongue.
This life of unlikely happiness came to an end soon after Ylva’s tenth name day. For a While her father had seemed slower and weaker, Ylva only found out he was sick when she heard her parents arguing one night after she was meant to be asleep. Ylva didn’t really understand what was happening but before another moon had passed her father fell into the hollow sleep and passed. Ylva was left three thing by her father: his sword, which he said was hers by right of blood, a small pendent of a wolf and a baby sister growing in Thora’s belly.
Thora was a level headed and practical woman. With one child already and another on the way she wasted very little time on grieving and focused on remarrying. A childhood friend of Thora who had always been enamored with her proposed to marriage not three months after the death of Carl. While Bjorn was not nearly the man that Carl had been, he was able to offer the security that Thora needed.
Ylva distrusted her new stepfather. There was something about him that just didn't sit right. He’d never quite explain what he did for living, go to meet suppliers in the middle of the night and sometimes be in places that he had no reason to be. Thora seemed happy with her new husband though and so for the most part Ylva took to staying out of the way and hanging around on the streets .She was accepted into one of the town gangs as a sort of mascot. She didn’t mind being patronised because by hanging out with the boys she was able to continue learning how to fight although she made the point of seeming very bad so that the boys would find her funny and keep her around. When she wasn't hanging around the city streets she would go hunting, at first by herself and then Ursi got older Ylva would take her sister along so she could tell her sister about her real father.
In her fifteenth year, Bjorn came to Ylva begging for her help and what he told her confirmed everything she had thought of the man for the last five years. While outwardly he was an honest businessman, he actually made his money through less than legal means and after having lost a shipment he owed a large amount of coin. At first Ylva wanted nothing more than to let him be destroyed by his mess but Bjorn pointed out that the people wouldn't just come after him but also Thora and Ursi to get their money back and so, reluctantly Ylva agreed to help until the threat to her mother and sister was eliminated. Ylva’s job was to carry packages for Bjorn when she went hunting, stopping in neighboring towns and villages to pass them onto one of his contacts and collect the money.
This uneasy partnership between Ylva and Bjorn worked profitably and soon the family was out from under the debt. At first Ylva stuck to her vow to stop helping Bjorn but she had grown use to having the extra coin and soon found herself slipping back into the work. For a few years the arrangement worked well and while Ylva never grew to like Bjorn, she did come to grudgingly respect the man. However Bjorn's greed was always greater than his intellect and over time he began to take bigger and bigger risks and it would be Ylva who paid for them.
One day on what should have been a routine drop off Ylva suddenly found herself surrounded by guards and with no options save surrendering or dying. Thrown into the city dungeons Ylva was left to fend for herself amongst thieves, murderers, and worse in the dark and cold. In this time Ylva saw prisoners, often who had committed worse crimes than her released because they were able to buy their freedom back from the Jarl and the guards while she lingered. After several months Ylva was unexpectedly dragged before the Jarl. It turned out that they had thought that in catching Ylva they had caught the leader of the gang that had been smuggling the contraband around the country only for the flow of illicit goods to carry on unabated. Ylva was offered clemency if she agreed to aid in the arrest of the real gang leader, an offer that she grasped with both hands, going so far as to actually lead Jarl’s guards to Bjorn and his hidden stores. After his arrest Bjorn claimed that Ylva had been just as much the leader as he. Unwilling to go back in his promise of release to Ylva but also not wanting to risk Bjorn being right he settled on exiling her for ten years.
For three years Ylva wandered from place to place, staying long enough only to make a little coin before moving on. At first she tried to live the life of a Hunter to prove to herself that she was an honest person but a couple of hard months were enough to deplete Ylva’s already tattered pride and she began to accept who she was. For the most part she kept her own company but occasionally she would work with local gangs to pull of larger jobs though this would only ever be for a short amount of time. This changed when after nearly being apprehended by some guards she became trapped in a small town. With guards blocking the gates she hid out in a tavern as she looked for somewhere to hide the illicit substance she was carrying. Quite by chance Ylva bumped into a fresh faced, naive looking traveler and saw her chance. After subtly secreting the small package of contraband into the girls pack she spent a little time talking to the traveler to find out where she was headed while at the same time loudly making lots of vague comments about heading out of the north gate. Ylva’s planned to lie low for the night and then catch up with the girl and recover her possessions once they was safely out of the city. When she saw the guards enter the inn Ylva beat a hasty retreat into a back room and listened at the door to see if the guards took the bait.
For reasons unknown the guards began to search the girl that the landlord had pointed to as having been seen with their quarry and when the found the package and accused her of being a conspirator. Already unusual feelings of guilt were beginning to stir in Ylva and then the girl tried to run only to be knocked out cold by a blow to the head. Seeing the girl go down caused something to snap and Ylva and before the guards had chance to draw their weapons two of them had gone down. The last guard was more of a challenge but after a short fight Ylva was able to subdue him long enough to get the girl out of the tavern and flee. Eventually when Ylva was sure they had lost their pursuers she used the last of her strength to pull the girl into an alley before she herself passed out from a slash to her side.
When she woke Ylva was surprised to see the girl hovering over her and after some conversation Ylva discovered that the girl had healed her wounds in thanks for Ylva’s rescue. Ylva felt a deep sense of guilt that the girl had done all this in thanks for a rescue she wouldn't have needed if it hadn't been for Ylva and wanted to leave there and then apart from her injuries wouldn't let her. Even when she was able to move she tagged along with Ashfa at first because her wounds still needed treating and then because it never seemed quite the right time to leave. It took Ylva nearly half a year to admit to herself that she enjoyed having someone to travel with as well as Ash being useful. The girl was good with coin and buying good at a better price and her role as a healer often meant that she and Ylva were treated with much less suspicion when they arrived at a new town. Ylva never quite told Ashfa the whole story about the night they met and she tries to keep her friend away from the darker side of her life.
This life of unlikely happiness came to an end soon after Ylva’s tenth name day. For a While her father had seemed slower and weaker, Ylva only found out he was sick when she heard her parents arguing one night after she was meant to be asleep. Ylva didn’t really understand what was happening but before another moon had passed her father fell into the hollow sleep and passed. Ylva was left three thing by her father: his sword, which he said was hers by right of blood, a small pendent of a wolf and a baby sister growing in Thora’s belly.
Thora was a level headed and practical woman. With one child already and another on the way she wasted very little time on grieving and focused on remarrying. A childhood friend of Thora who had always been enamored with her proposed to marriage not three months after the death of Carl. While Bjorn was not nearly the man that Carl had been, he was able to offer the security that Thora needed.
Ylva distrusted her new stepfather. There was something about him that just didn't sit right. He’d never quite explain what he did for living, go to meet suppliers in the middle of the night and sometimes be in places that he had no reason to be. Thora seemed happy with her new husband though and so for the most part Ylva took to staying out of the way and hanging around on the streets .She was accepted into one of the town gangs as a sort of mascot. She didn’t mind being patronised because by hanging out with the boys she was able to continue learning how to fight although she made the point of seeming very bad so that the boys would find her funny and keep her around. When she wasn't hanging around the city streets she would go hunting, at first by herself and then Ursi got older Ylva would take her sister along so she could tell her sister about her real father.
In her fifteenth year, Bjorn came to Ylva begging for her help and what he told her confirmed everything she had thought of the man for the last five years. While outwardly he was an honest businessman, he actually made his money through less than legal means and after having lost a shipment he owed a large amount of coin. At first Ylva wanted nothing more than to let him be destroyed by his mess but Bjorn pointed out that the people wouldn't just come after him but also Thora and Ursi to get their money back and so, reluctantly Ylva agreed to help until the threat to her mother and sister was eliminated. Ylva’s job was to carry packages for Bjorn when she went hunting, stopping in neighboring towns and villages to pass them onto one of his contacts and collect the money.
This uneasy partnership between Ylva and Bjorn worked profitably and soon the family was out from under the debt. At first Ylva stuck to her vow to stop helping Bjorn but she had grown use to having the extra coin and soon found herself slipping back into the work. For a few years the arrangement worked well and while Ylva never grew to like Bjorn, she did come to grudgingly respect the man. However Bjorn's greed was always greater than his intellect and over time he began to take bigger and bigger risks and it would be Ylva who paid for them.
One day on what should have been a routine drop off Ylva suddenly found herself surrounded by guards and with no options save surrendering or dying. Thrown into the city dungeons Ylva was left to fend for herself amongst thieves, murderers, and worse in the dark and cold. In this time Ylva saw prisoners, often who had committed worse crimes than her released because they were able to buy their freedom back from the Jarl and the guards while she lingered. After several months Ylva was unexpectedly dragged before the Jarl. It turned out that they had thought that in catching Ylva they had caught the leader of the gang that had been smuggling the contraband around the country only for the flow of illicit goods to carry on unabated. Ylva was offered clemency if she agreed to aid in the arrest of the real gang leader, an offer that she grasped with both hands, going so far as to actually lead Jarl’s guards to Bjorn and his hidden stores. After his arrest Bjorn claimed that Ylva had been just as much the leader as he. Unwilling to go back in his promise of release to Ylva but also not wanting to risk Bjorn being right he settled on exiling her for ten years.
For three years Ylva wandered from place to place, staying long enough only to make a little coin before moving on. At first she tried to live the life of a Hunter to prove to herself that she was an honest person but a couple of hard months were enough to deplete Ylva’s already tattered pride and she began to accept who she was. For the most part she kept her own company but occasionally she would work with local gangs to pull of larger jobs though this would only ever be for a short amount of time. This changed when after nearly being apprehended by some guards she became trapped in a small town. With guards blocking the gates she hid out in a tavern as she looked for somewhere to hide the illicit substance she was carrying. Quite by chance Ylva bumped into a fresh faced, naive looking traveler and saw her chance. After subtly secreting the small package of contraband into the girls pack she spent a little time talking to the traveler to find out where she was headed while at the same time loudly making lots of vague comments about heading out of the north gate. Ylva’s planned to lie low for the night and then catch up with the girl and recover her possessions once they was safely out of the city. When she saw the guards enter the inn Ylva beat a hasty retreat into a back room and listened at the door to see if the guards took the bait.
For reasons unknown the guards began to search the girl that the landlord had pointed to as having been seen with their quarry and when the found the package and accused her of being a conspirator. Already unusual feelings of guilt were beginning to stir in Ylva and then the girl tried to run only to be knocked out cold by a blow to the head. Seeing the girl go down caused something to snap and Ylva and before the guards had chance to draw their weapons two of them had gone down. The last guard was more of a challenge but after a short fight Ylva was able to subdue him long enough to get the girl out of the tavern and flee. Eventually when Ylva was sure they had lost their pursuers she used the last of her strength to pull the girl into an alley before she herself passed out from a slash to her side.
When she woke Ylva was surprised to see the girl hovering over her and after some conversation Ylva discovered that the girl had healed her wounds in thanks for Ylva’s rescue. Ylva felt a deep sense of guilt that the girl had done all this in thanks for a rescue she wouldn't have needed if it hadn't been for Ylva and wanted to leave there and then apart from her injuries wouldn't let her. Even when she was able to move she tagged along with Ashfa at first because her wounds still needed treating and then because it never seemed quite the right time to leave. It took Ylva nearly half a year to admit to herself that she enjoyed having someone to travel with as well as Ash being useful. The girl was good with coin and buying good at a better price and her role as a healer often meant that she and Ylva were treated with much less suspicion when they arrived at a new town. Ylva never quite told Ashfa the whole story about the night they met and she tries to keep her friend away from the darker side of her life.
I love the scale and ambition of the RP and look forward to seeing how the different stories weave together over time.
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Vaila
Cybernetic Princess.
General Information
Name:Dahy Ajani (DAY-hee AH-jan-EE)
Nickname/Alias’:Day - Short for Dahy, Rogue - Because he’s a rogue, Brother - By his best friend.
Face Claim: [1] [2] [3]
Age: 19.
Gender: Male.
Sexuality: Heterosexual.
Date/Place of Birth: Born in Valek, Awa 16th - Typhos.
Current Residence/Location: Caelfath, Western Khauran.
Nationality/Species: Valekian.
Occupation: Rogue.
Personality
- Education: He was well educated during his childhood, learning everything from the languages of his people to the battle techniques they used. And even after leaving home, he still managed to maintain a high level of education mostly due to being under the protection of the crown.
- Accomplishments: Dahy has accomplished very little in his life, aside from surviving surrounded by Khaddorians. Some would say that his friendship with the Prince is an accomplishment, or running away from him, but he doesn’t see either as something to get praise about.
- Regrets: Dahy regrets leaving his brothers and sister. He regrets not seeing them for the past 6 years and often wonders how they are and what they’ve become now that they’re growing up, even if he doesn’t regret his decision to leave home.
- Secrets: Dahy has lots of secrets. He has tiny secrets that he shares with his lovers, small secrets that he shares with his friends, and life-altering secrets that he shares with no one.
- Positives/Virtues/Skills: Dahy is reliable and loyal. He rarely turns on those he is loyal to, such as his friends, but that’s only up to a point. He’s a warrior by training but works better through diplomacy because of his political roots. He much prefers to find peaceful solutions to things, especially if such negotiations involve bonding over a mug of ale. But because of his training, he has a very high resistance to pain. He can handle hours of torture before he breaks, though some could see this as a weakness. It can take him a long time to see something bad as such.
- Flaws/Weaknesses: Dahy doesn’t like to be tied down. Because of how he grew up, he can sometimes be flighty. Never staying in a relationship for longer than a few months, or committing himself to any one job. Instead, he works for himself doing anything he can from debt collection to working as a personal bodyguard for his friend. Just so he can maintain his freedom. Because of this flightiness, he is quite the ladies man. It also doesn’t help that he’s the Prince’s best friend. This leads to people not taking him seriously, made worse by the fact that he rarely takes himself seriously, which often turns to self-doubt.
He has also got quite the temper on him when he is angered passed boiling point. Because he grew up surrounded by Khaddorian’s, they often bullied him when the King and Prince weren’t around because of his species. He was smaller and weaker than the Khaddorian’s, and they thought it funny to pick on him. But he always fought back, and because of this, he obtained a pretty nasty temper. Luckily though, he has a long fuse.
- Likes & Dislikes: Likes: Flirtatious distractions, pie and freedom to make his own choices. Dislikes: Hypocrites, Power hungry people and silence.
- Dreams/Ambitions: Dahy dreams of one day seeing his family again. He doesn’t know if or when this will happen, but he longs to reconnect with where he came from. The only reason he doesn’t is because he believes that it will force him to lose touch with the life he’s built for himself.
- Fears: Dramatic responsibility. He’s afraid of having people rely on him in stressful situations and letting them down. It’s a deep fear that even he refuses to acknowledge, but it’s still there and it makes him want to barf.
- Views on Death: He is openly accepting that death is a natural part of life, but that doesn’t mean he has to meet his end. He is more than willing to end another’s life if the need arrives but isn’t the kind to slaughter innocents unless he’s forced to.
Appearance
Build: 6ft 2in (189cm), 210lbs (15 stone), Wide shoulders, Broad Chest, Strong Muscles.
Hair Color: Dirty Blonde hair down to his shoulders, sometimes pulled back in a ponytail.
Eye Color: Brown.
Distinguishing Marks: A small battle scar on his shoulder from an old knife wound.
Usual Clothing: His clothing choices usually depend on his relationship status, and what kind of girl he’s chasing at the time. He has two main kinds of outfits though. The first is more relaxed, black pants and a loose white shirt usually showing off some of his chest with a pair of boots. The second is more formal, a fitted formal coat in light blue and brown with much cleaner pants and boots.
Weapon of Choice: Sword or Knife.
Strengths: His upper body strength, battle instincts and basic diplomacy skills.
Weaknesses: His overwhelming fear of responsibility, his 'smart mouth' and his split loyalties.
History
- Childhood/Family Life: Dahy was the eldest born to his parents, shortly followed by his twin sister. Around a year later, they gave birth to his younger brother, Emre, followed by Kian two years later. They were all educated together, spending their days fighting and learning together with their tutors while their father worked. Their family was one of the most affluent in his home city, and Dahy grew up surrounded by money and people trying to influence him from a young age. It didn’t take long for him to grow sick of it. Sick of it, his father’s attitude to their family and the pressure placed upon him. And shortly after his twelfth year began, he ran away from home. It took him months of walking before he collapsed.
He was found by the most unsympathetic of species. A Khaddorian envoy containing both the King and the Prince. They were about to slay him, putting the weak Valekian out of his misery, when the Prince started to taunt him. But Dahy wasn’t one to take taunting without dishing it back, and so he replied in kind. The Prince loved it. Never before had he been challenged in such a way by anyone but his father, and definitely not by someone of a similar age. He turned to his father and asked him to stay his hand, which surprised the King. But he did as his son requested. He took pity on the poor child and took him into his household, and allowing him to live. It took a long time, but the two boys eventually formed a friendly rivalry, always seeing one another as equals and soon became inseparable.
- Education: He was well educated during his childhood, learning everything from the languages of his people to the battle techniques they used. And even after leaving home, he still managed to maintain a high level of education mostly due to being under the protection of the crown.
- Accomplishments: Dahy has accomplished very little in his life, aside from surviving surrounded by Khaddorians. Some would say that his friendship with the Prince is an accomplishment, or running away from him, but he doesn’t see either as something to get praise about.
Relationships
Parents:
Mother – Aoife, a Nord. Pronounced “EE-fa”. His mother is a strong woman, created out of how she was raised in the North. She taught her children to be the same despite their more cosy upbringing, and as Dahy grew older, he grew to respect her even more as a parent and a teacher.
Father - Rupheo, a citizen of Valek. Pronounced “ROO-fee-OH”. His father was a politician first and a father second. He wasn’t around much, always working for something bigger than his family, and although Dahy understood, he didn’t approve of it leading to a strained relationship between the two.
Siblings:
Twin-sister – Tahnee. Pronounced “TAH-nee”. His only sister. He was raised as a young child to ‘protect’ her from others, but she didn’t really need it. They were both equally as fiery, or ‘pig-headed’ as their mother called it, and often argued about the smallest things.
Younger Brother – Emre. Pronounced “EM-rey”. Emre was Dahy’s main competitor growing up. Only a few years younger than Tahnee and Dahy, they took most of their lessons and spent time practising their fighting techniques together. But despite their rivalry, they weren’t always at odds with one another.
Youngest Brother – Kian. Pronounced “KEY-en”. Kian is his favourite brother mostly because they are the least alike. Kian is quiet and studious in comparison to Dahy’s sometimes brash and bold nature.
Children: None.. yet.
Spouse/Current Partner: Nothing serious.
Ex-Partners: A long list of ex-lovers. One night stands, flirtations, paid rendezvous and brief relationships lasting no longer than a month or two at a time. Usually women, and the occasional secret man in his chambers. But he doesn’t discriminate. He’s dated servants and noblewomen alike as well as enjoying the company of plenty of disreputable young ladies who sell their time. His most recent conquest was with a giggly daughter of a noble named Elizabet who just would not stop batting her eyelashes at him and hinting about a marriage of power to help secure his ‘influence’. He’s putting up with her because of the wedding.
Friends: Prince Helsien Uzbekidar of Tauren “Brother”- He is really Dahy’s only friend, or at least the only one he is close to. The only one that he lets see him at his best and his worst. They grew up together, and because of this Dahy see’s him as more of a brother than a friend. Not only that but Dahy treats him as a confidant. They don’t share everything, but Day always tells him the juicy gossip of his conquests. (See Bio for how they became friends.)
Enemies: No real enemy per se. Most people just don’t like him because of his general personality or they see him as a threat to their Prince.
Other Information
Here are the things you need to know about what Dahy’s been up to just before the RP begins:
Helsien was the most important person in Dahy’s life. This is mostly because of their brotherly bond and deep friendship going back 6 years.
He just started dating Elizabet, a Khaddorian noble's daughter who only thirsts for power, but he’s already bored with her. They will be breaking up soon if he has any choice in the matter.
He isn’t overly fond of the arranged marriage that his friend is going through, but he understands why his friend wishes to go through with it.
Biography
Dahy Ajani was born to politically ambitious parents, who were desperately pleased when they had a son and heir. They cared little about his twin sister, one who they repeatedly insisted they would marry off for a political alliance as soon as she was old enough, and proceeded to have two more sons to ‘carry on their lineage’.
Growing up that way was stressful for Dahy because he was always forced to compete. Forced to push further during training and learn more with his tutors. Forced to create rivalries with his siblings rather than getting along with them, turning everything about his life into a competition from a very young age. And he loathed it. When he succeeded, his accomplishments were dismissed, and when he failed, he was heavily criticised by his parents, his tutors and anyone else who felt inclined to comment. His life was controlled and commented on from the moment of his birth.
And he dreamed of being free, of having any life but his own. He dreamed of befriending who he wanted, of courting who he wanted, and going where he wanted. For so long he pictured his life as the people he saw around him. As a pirate sailing the sea’s or as a merchant selling his wares to pay for his lifestyle.
And as each day passed by, his dreams grew. He used his tutors to learn about the world around him, and it fueled his desire for a new life grew. He knew if he stayed he would be trapped. But it wasn’t until he was getting towards his teenage years that things changed. The little childhood he had vanished and was taken over with more lessons on the ‘political niceties’ like dancing and courting. He was expected to visit with at least three women of his parent’s choosing, in the hopes that he would find someone he liked, but at the age of twelve, he didn’t really like any of them. They were all girls forced by their own parents to meet with him. They had no interests in stories about pirates, or fighting techniques. They didn’t care about the politics of their nation. All they wanted to know about were their pretty dresses and gossip.
It was all of this combined that led to Dahy making the decision to leave home.
He packed only his most precious possessions, the things he couldn’t leave home without, as well as necessities. As much food and money as he could get in his bag. He packed three changes of clothing, one of which he wore on his back, and a small sketch his sister had done of their family. Because as much as he wanted to leave, he didn’t want to forget where he came from. Sure his parents were overbearing, but his siblings were under the same scrutiny that he was. And he would have taken them with him if he could have, but firstly he was afraid they would stop him and secondly it was much more likely for one child to go missing but four…. That would raise search parties and suspicion. Dahy just needed to disappear.
And disappear he did. He walked and walked and walked until blisters formed on his feet and his shoes wore through. He walked until he sold everything but the sketch, a few odd worthless trinkets and the clothes on his back. And even those were scarce. Covered in dirt and starving, he stumbled through the world contemplating turning around and walking back to the safety and comfort of his home. The land filled with those who controlled him. But he didn’t. Because at least out here he was free.
Free to go where he wanted, say what he wanted. Free to die. And Dahy was oddly at peace with that. Not that he was suicidal. He didn’t want to die. Even when his stomach stopped hurting from hunger and his lips were so cracked under the scorching sun that he thought they might bleed. Not even when he was found by the Khaddorians.
From what he could gather, they were a patrol around the borders, and they hated Valekians. And even though, at the time, he didn’t speak their language, their body language wasn’t all that different. It was clear that they didn’t like him as they dragged him through the streets like he was no more than a hunk of rock that they needed moving out of the way. And Dahy had no energy to fight it.
They hauled him through mud and puddles of filthy water. Through the dirty streets and passed an unimaginable number of Khaddorians. Khaddorians who, according to his teachings, were long since dead.
They dumped him on a polished floor at the feet of a small group of Khaddorians, but Dahy didn’t move. He just lay staring up at the ceiling as they gathered around, staring at the Valekian. He looked at them, with curiosity as one of the smaller ones hovered over them. Hands tried to push him back, but the smaller Khaddorian persisted.
It turned out that this Khaddorian in particular, though small in size and young, was the Prince. Prince Helsien IV. But Dahy didn’t know that. To him, this was an opponent more his size. And one that he could understand, to a point. The boy spoke a broken version of his language, no doubt because he was still learning.
“ This,’’ he said with disgust. “ ...thing stinks of rotting flesh. Do all Valekian’s smell like this, father?” the Prince asked his father, tilting his head between Dahy and the King.
“No,” Dahy said, his voice cracking as he forced himself to smile. “That scent is coming from you,” he added, smirking tiredly through the pain of speaking.
The Prince’s eyes snapped back down to him, glittering with anger and embarrassment. His foot moved to kick the boy, colliding with his ribs and making Dahy wince. “Sure… coward. Kicking someone while they’re down,” Dahy croaked, unable to move. He was barely able to breathe, and the pain of the kick was like a wake-up call and a shock to his system all at once. It made him feel more alive than he’d been since arriving in this territory.
The Prince went to kick him again, growing more and more embarrassed, but the King raised a hand. “Enough,” he said, and all the guards stood a little straighter. “That’s enough, Helsien. What has this boy done to you to deserve being kicked?” he asked, wondering what his son might say.
“He insulted me, father. I am a Prince, and he is nothing more than a filthy Valekian. He deserves worse,” Helsien sneered, looking down at Dahy with disgust. But Dahy didn’t move. It had never really occurred to him that the hatred went both ways. He’d always been taught that fighting the Khaddorian’s had been a necessity. That wiping them out had been able survival, but now that he was here he could see it from their point of view. His people were the enemy here.
“And yet he is but a boy. No older than you, I would imagine,” the King said, looking down at his son. “Do you believe he should be punished for being born a particular way? Or for speaking out against those who insult him? Can you not see bravery and strength in this boy who looks to be deprived of everything that we here take for granted?”
Helsien looked thoughtful at this, staring down at Dahy who had his eyes closed shut as he tried to collect himself so he could ignore the throbbing pain in his ribs.
“What will you do with him, father?” the Prince asked, turning to look back up at his father with interest. “Will you execute him like the others?”
The King looked thoughtful at this before shaking his head from side to side. “No,” he said and the guards all looked a little shocked at this. “He will come with us,” the King decided.
“With us?” Helsien asked, looking as shocked as the guards. “But father…” he began but the King raised his hand to silence him.
“Carry him. Do not drag him along the floor like a herd of Klander that you’re done hunting,” he said before turning and continuing his walk through the streets in which he ruled as he thought about the Klander they would be having for their evening meal.
“This isn’t over,” Helsien said, glaring at Dahy like he was his new adversary, but also with a great deal of respect after certain things about the boy being pointed out to him.
“I’d hope not,” Dahy replied, feeling sceptical and more afraid now than when his life had been threatened.
Over the next seven years, Dahy and the Prince grew closer. They spent much of their time bickering and training together, but it was different from how Dahy grew up back in Valek. Instead of it being the wedge between them, they grew closer because of it. Dahy and Helsien grew to respect one another, and Dahy never changed. He still treated the Prince like an equal, and Dahy suspected that he liked it. In many ways, Dahy considered him to be more of a brother than a friend.
In fact, it was even what he began to call him, as a sign of respect and love for his brother. Even if they were another species. It meant a great deal to him that the King had protected him the way he did, even when the rest of his people treated Dahy like an outcast. Like he was just any other Valekian who deserved to be slaughtered. But still, the King kept him safe. He allowed him to study and learn their languages and histories. He found him safe homes to live in, with foster families. Some were perfectly pleasant, eager to do their duty for the King, but others treated him poorly. But Dahy didn’t care. For the first time in his life, he felt free. He had no idea what the future held, but it felt good to be able to choose his own path in life.
He got everything he wanted. Not in a spoilt child way, but he got the best weapons training and the best tutors. Everything that Helsien got was his too. And although his life was restricted, he didn’t care. It didn’t bother him that he’d never be able to become a warrior because he was as strong as the Khaddorians. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t trusted by the majority of the population. It didn’t even bother him that the only women who would date him either wanted his influence over the future King, or his money when he paid them for their company.
It didn’t matter that he became a glorified debt collector for the city. Or that he occasionally had to act as a bodyguard for the Prince to make ends meet. In his eyes, he was surviving. And he was thriving. He loved his life. Loved being the rogue, the one that parents hurried their children away from. Being the only person in this city who was truly free to do whatever he wanted.
But even so, every now and then he would find himself wondering what his family were doing…. What had become of them. Had they married his sister off as planned? Had his brother taken over his role? Did they think he was dead? But he didn’t dare try to find answers these questions. He didn’t want to be sucked back into that life because he knew what kind of life it was. It was one that he watched all the nobles live through… and even now he watched his friend go through it. Forced to marry a woman he’d never met because of his duty to his people. He admired the strength and conviction it must have taken, and he knew that it was what Helsien wanted, but he couldn’t help but pity his friend. One who would never be able to taste the freedom he felt.
° Dahy Ajani °
♦ Rogue ♦ Friend ♦ Runaway ♦
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