Lassard
Elkran, Physician
the silver-streaked young man
The first thing you notice about the young man before you is his
hair. It is shoulder length and dark black in color, except for a
section on the right side that is streaked silver. Oddly enough,
his face is completely hairless. His eyebrows have been shaven
clean off; and thin, black tattooes outline where they once were.
He has a slim nose, high cheekbones, and slender light-colored
lips. This young man has a medium build, but appears to be
developing somewhat of a pot-belly. His legs are long, and
seem to be quite muscular.
Lassard was born to Bentai and Ferrad O'Utaran, known allanaki
errand runners. At the age of ten, Lassard began helping his
parents run their errands for nobles and templars alike. He
quickly learned the city and the surrounding encampments and
villages. Through his teenage years Lassard's enjoyment for
the work he was doing gradually lowered. He began spending more
time away from work, sneaking around the city and watching what
people were doing. He began to understand there was so much more
to do than be an errand boy all his life. One day there was an
outburst near the gates, and a soldier was injured. Lassard watched
as a healer was brought from the temples and quickly healed the fallen
soldier's wounds. Lassard spent a lot of time in the temples after
that, watching the clerics. A week after his 18th birthday, Lassard
learned that he had the ability of magick, and sought to learn more.
Submitted by Atshen
Emon Stormdancer
Elkran, Nomad
the hawkish, dark-haired man
Shoulder length, charcoal-grey hair tops the head of this mans head,
tied
back in a half pony tail with a small, colorful braided cord. He is
tall,
and lean, by human standards, and his angular face is cut with birdlike
features. He has a hawkish nose, thin lips, and a small, neatly trimmed
black goatee sits on his pointed chin. Grey, almond shaped eyes peer out
from under thick eyebrows the color of his hair, and the tips of his
small
ears come to a tiny point. A single, thin scar runs down the right side
of
his cheek, and a small, sharply angular black tattoo adorns the back of
his neck, running down his spine.
Emon came from the Arabet tribe of nomads, the half-breed offspring
of an
elven raid. Never much liked amongst the rest of the Arabet, due to his
bastard status, he grew up in a state of half-citizenship amongst the
tribe...never really accepted, often used as a scapegoat, yet still a
'member'. One day, during a scouting mission with a few of his peers in
the
midst of a sandstorm in the Red Desert, he was struck, literally, by
lightning. He survived - much to the surprise of his tribemates, who
decided
it was a bad omen, and to ditch him alltogether. They took his kank, his
water, and left him for dead, lost in the Red Desert. Somehow, however,
he
managed to maintain enough energy within himself to make the walk back
to
Luirs Outpost...and began his life as an outcast there.
Due to his Arabet background, he was a master Dancer, and a reasonably
good
Bard as well. He would spend hours dancing, and due to his elkran
tendancies, was determined to get people to expend and use as much
energy as
possible: typically through dancing, movement, and parties. Much of his
magick was summoned through long rituals, which always invovled some
form of
intricate dances.
Submitted by Tlaloc
Lendon
Elkrosian
Lendon has spent his entire life as an outcast. His family was one of many
that has ended up living in Allanak without a tribe. Even with this, Lendon
has always seemed useless to his family, unable to do the work of his parents
because of his awkward hands, and bumbling mannerisms. After many years of
being treated poorly by his family and outsiders alike, Lendon developed a
certain talent, which started to manifest at awkward times - he began to have
the elemental power of elkros channel through him. He chose to hide it from
his family, shamed by the stigmatism he knew would grow to haunt him. He was
able to keep it from them for many years, until he angered his father one
day. His father grabbed him and shook him violently, at which time a violent
shock overtook his father. He left immediately, his mother screaming at him
never to come back, and he has not. He will not speak of his family anymore.
He has spent some time looking into Temples in Allanak, but has decided the
best course will be to flee to the northlands where he can forget about this
awful experience.
[Again, the background focuses on the life before magicking, giving
implications as to how this character will view his arts and people around
him.]
Submitted by Cerebus
Gorrevo
Elkrosian
Gorrevo has always considered himself a sort of prodigal son. He has
always been quick of mind and well liked and fancies himself quite a
charismatic individual. Despite the gem he has worn since his youth,
he is quick to make friends, and thinks himself deserving of praise
and attention. He wants to be known as kind and fair, but the simple
conceit of the desire sometime causes him to get angry when people
don't recognize his generosity. He believes that the powers of Elkros
were a gift given to him from the Highlord himself because of his
particular worthiness that was noted at birth. Both parents were
Elkrans who died in the service to the Highlord.
[This was an interesting concept. Revos got himself a job with a Templar,
believing himself to be granted gifts from Tektolnes. His skewed vision of
the future had him at Tektolnes' right hand as the most powerful elementalist
ever known. He felt he was born to it]
Submitted by Cerebus
Thadius
Krathi
the slight, scarlet-haired man
A thick curtain of blazing scarlet hair tumbles down on each
side of this young man's narrow sun-bronzed face. His eyes, deeply set
below thin arching brows, have the pale colour of burnished gold. The
tips of his ears, barely visible through the shroud of his hair, are
smoothly rounded, as is the end of his long chin. High cheekbones flank
his aquiline nose, the mouth below thin-lipped. Callouses cover his
spatulate fingertips, attached to oddly delicate, slim
hands. His form is slight, though long of limb.
Precise, soft-spoken and possessed of an inveterate curiosity about all
matters
mechanical, Thadius Muscade bears a chip on his shoulder, a simmering
internal
anger that he is perfectly able to conceal. His father Varden was a
well-to-do
independent merchant of Allanak until he encroached on the territory of
the
Merchant House Kadius once too often and was forced subtly out of
business. A
broken man, his father retired to Red Storm, in which bleak environment
young
Thadius grew up. Nursing a somewhat indiscriminate hatred against the
Merchant
Houses in general, Thadius retains still the Nakki reverence for the
nobility
and the Highlord Tektolnes. It is now three years since he first
discovered the
ability to waken his anger into something more formidable; a talent he
is only
now gaining any form of control over. Unsure still whether he wishes to
take
the gem, and with it the associated social stigma, Thadius subsists for
now as
a spice hunter, scouring the sands around Red Storm with his sifter and
looking
for more pleasant work.
Submitted by Quirk
Ditredum
Suk-Krathi
Ditredum has kept a life of relative comfort. He has spent his adult life in
the temple of Krath without ever making any great progress with his art,
while still managing to do enough chores and errands to keep the roof over
his head and water in his flask. After many years of getting by this way,
however, the temple elders have grown tired of his slothful nature and have
asked him to make way for younger initiates, and find his place in society -
outside the temple. Ditre is, of course, looking for the most comfortable and
well respected employment (with little real work, of course.) He believes a
man of his qualifications should be left mostly in peace, to properly
concentrate on his studies.
[This character looked at magick as a mundane science. He strived to find the
perfect technique and to be well known and esteemed, though more for how
comfortable it could make his life than for the joy of knowledge. He worked
for a Noble house and a Templar].
Submitted by Cerebus
Owain
Whiran, General Crafter
the scarred, red-skinned dwarf
Before you is a sturdy, muscular dwarf with deep red colored
skin. The portion of skin that is visible is covered with
small, pink colored scars. His bald head is a slightly deeper
color red, from countless hours under the harsh Zalanthian sun.
Golden-colored eyes peer out from narrowed slits, and accent
this dwarf's slender nose. He has a sturdy, powerful build to
him, with thick, sinewy muscles covering every inch of his body.
His massive, powerful legs are bowed outward, giving him a
slightly awkward look when he stands still.
Being born and raised in Allanak, Owain has led a pretty
easy life. His parents are some of the best basketmakers
within the walls of the city, and have been selling their
crafts for over 40 years. Owain was never very interested
in learning his parents' art, so he spent most of his time
away from home; wandering the streets of Allanak. Early
in his life, Owain learned that he was different from other
kids. He has always enjoyed walking the streets, being outside,
and feeling the wind across his face. One day, Owain was
spending some time around one of the temples within the city,
and one of the clerics there, a Whiran, bumped into Owain.
Standing there staring at him, this Whiran cleric took a moment
and looked into Owain's eyes. Owain was seemingly dazed by this
and the cleric just places his hand on Owain's head and let a
slight grin cross his lips. Curious about what the cleric was
staring at, Owain began to spend more time around these temples.
After a few years, Owain was told by this cleric that he had
an ability within him, one that would surface at the right time.
Eventually this ability did surface, and Owain learned that he
too, possessed an innate ability of magick. The element of
favor was that of the wind. Learning of their child's gift,
Owain's parents sent him away for fear that his gift would be
known by everyone, and feared. So Owain has spent the last few
years of his life living in Red Storm Village, learning to
survive off the land. During these years, Owain has grown
to appreciate all the land can provide, and has devoted his
life to learning about his gift, and using it as best he can.
Submitted by Atshen
Ey'Bood
Whiran, Linguist
the scarlet-haired, pierced elf
Down the center of his head, from front to back, this elf's hair has
been shaven completely away. Dyed an intense red color, the hair on
the sides of his head has been left to grow well past his shoulders.
Small bone needles have been placed evenly along the shaven portion
of his head, piercing the skin of his scalp. His almond shaped eyes
are crowned by a single eyebrow that grows in a V-shape towards his
temples, and his rosy cheeks appear flushed against the
peach color of the rest of his skin. He stands a bit taller than the
average elf, and has relatively broad shoulders.
Ey'Bood was born part of the Pur Eir tribe that lives in the
Red Desert. At an early age he was just like the other children,
but when he reached fourteen years, he knew he was different. Able
to manipulate the winds, Ey'Bood was looked at as being cursed
and his tribe drove him away. Tying his hands while he slept, his
tribemates put Ey'Bood on the back of a beast of burden and blindfolded
him. They let the beast carry Ey'Bood away into exile. Ey'Bood was
blown off the beast by a gust of wind and found himself beside a pool
of water, his blindfold loosened enough so he could see. Finally
freeing himself, Ey'Bood lives to protect himself, and to follow
the ways of the wind. Hopeful to build a tribe where magick is
not feared, Ey'Bood is on
constant search for others like himself.
Submitted by Atshen
Gresham
Whiran
the pale, one-eyed tattooed dwarf
Dense, corded muscle knots tightly under this pale dwarfs thick,
white
skin. Hard calluses cover his body, coating his knees, elbows and his
hard,
gnarled hands. His ghostly-grey eye, sunk deep under a hairless brow,
show
the signs of weathering and toil as crows feet form, cutting
relentlessly
across the thick skin of his face. A short scar extends across his
right
eye-socket, a dead glassy eye within it. A small, sharply angled nose
rests
in the middle of his face, over a tight-lipped mouth, whose corners also
betray a life of hard work and toil, while his neck and stooped back
show
signs of whip-scarring. A ring of runic tattooes encircles his bald
head,
and a large black sigil of Whira marks his forehead, covering a burned
scar.
Gresham was a dwarven slave in the obsidian mines. His whole life,
all he'd
known was the oppression and sort, brutish life that is work in the
obisidan
mines under the brutal whips of the Templar overseers - always teased by
the
legeneds of the fabled Thrain Ironsword, and his liberation of the
mines,
yet trapped in the irony that though the mines were liberated, it was
only
for a short while. His focus, during his stay, was to one day escape
from
the mines...an all but impossible task. One day, however, misfortune
turned
to great fortune: a weak beam caused a cave-in...typically lethal to any
caught under it. As the rocks fell down, strange, mysterious words crept
into his head and out his lips - and he was gone - transported on the
winds
to plains he had never seen before.
He was free. He found his way to a nearby village (Red Storm Village),
and
began his new life as a free dwarf, with a new focus: To one day free
-ALL-
the dwarves of the Obsidian Mines. Being a whiran, though, he decided to
do
it in -His- way, rather than the Legendary Thrains'...he would, via a
magickal ritual, summon them all out of the Mines, all at once. To this
end,
he spent much of his time researching and practicing summoning and
trasporting spells and cantrips, specializing in that department, and
sought
out others who could potentially have the magickal knowhow to help him
with
his task.
Unlike many whirans, his long-term enslavement in the mines left him
very
agoraphobic. He felt most comfortable indoors, underground, and disliked
travel - particularly in the vast wide open spaces of the salt-flats,
windy
plains, and various other open areas.
Submitted by Tlaloc
Grazen
Whiran
Grazen was born the illegitimate boy of a young mother and an aging father.
His mother was an elementalist and kept the pregnancy a secret until after
the he was born. When she was strong enough, she took him to his father and
before he could protest, vanished, not to be seen or heard of since. Grazen's
father was a mercenary who specialized in the bow, which he taught to his
young boy. A master of his trade, by the time Grazen was twelve, his father
had retired. However, by this time, Grazen was starting to show signs and
symptoms of the true power within him, and it was not but a year or so after
his father retired that his talents were recognized by an old crone during a
trip to the bazaar. Grazen's father loved him, but he was angered by this
power and the realization as to who and what his mother was. He forbade
Grazen to speak of it, but, being young and wanting to show off, Grazen began
to practice and study on his own. His father eventually found out, and not
knowing what else to do, sent him off to study with others of his kind. A
quick learner, it was not long before Grazen understood the basics of the
arts of the Whiran.
[This background focuses more on the life before magicking and the events
that came about him and his family finding out about the powers.]
Submitted by Cerebus
Collected by Sanvean
© 2003 Armageddon MUD. All rights reserved.
