interested. Almost done with application.
Warlock 2/ Sorcerer 2
Solitaire is a curious man with slanted brown eyes of amber color, with fine, straight, night-black hair that falls like a waterfall over his thin face. Past the long hair, is a handsome face, which pull his hooked nose and glimmering eyes that hint at something beyond the norm. Yet there is a slight scar down his left eye, which he refuses to explain. Sometimes one can see flecks of gold in his eyes, but only for a brief flash. He stands tall, though is not overly muscled, he has the graceful build of a dancer or the like. He wears a rather solemn wardrobe, with emphasis on greys and reds, with long sweeping robes covering his tough, yet light leather armor. He keeps his arms and limbs free, often flourishing them with an artistic flair. Solitaire is 21 years of age, and stands at 5' 11" and 159 pounds.
How Solitaire was foundNightmare's plagued the High Magician one dark, stormy night, alone in his tall, forboding tower, protected by spells and enchantments of great power. Yet that night, the High Magician, court wizard to the king, master of the Magisterium, was plagued by horrors of the night. His spells and wards useless, he found himself dreaming of agony and pain, facing his greatest fears, alone and unaided, with nothing to help him. He saw the lands, all the lands, burning and destroyed, the earth and the skies dying as the blue sky turned to red, and blood rainied form the sky from clouds of fire, and the mountains burned, and the land erupted with flame, and all around, all he could hear amidst this terrible landscape were screams of agony and pain, of death and torture, and such unearthly screams that no mortal could make, as beast of horror and fear roamed the apocalyptic land destroying all life. He tossed and turned, unable to wake up from the nightmare, as the beast in his dreams reached for him, stretching one lone claw at the High Magician in his dream, in which he lay helpless before it, devoid of magic or protection, and as the claw was brought down, with the mighty raking talons, ripping the wizard's body asunder, the High Magician screamed, and woke with a fright, sweating form fear, his body aching, hands quivering, unable to stop himself from shaking with fear.
T'was a premonition. A nightmare. A sign of what was to come.
Gathering his robes about him, trying to stop himself from shivering in his tower, he heard a strange noise. A wail. The cry of a child, and innocent waif, bawling outside his tower. The thunder pealed, and the babe cried still, and though he had been shaken with fright not seconds before, the mage could not help but be drawn to the cry of the child. Rushing down the tower, past the tower walls, past the gates, past the wards that protected the great tower from harm, he found the source of the wails. Approaching softly but gently, the High Magician approached the place from which he heard this strange cry. And what he saw astounded him. For he saw, at the base of an elder tree, wracked with age, with the forboding of dark magic which kept it alive for millennia, was a child, a newborn babe, naked at the foot of the tree, wrapped in a cloth that was so finely wrought, it seemed like the clothing of a king, yet so simply it was, that the babe wrapped in it seemed like a gift form the heavens. And so the High Magician thought it to be. A gift from the heavens...
The High Magician took the boy in as his own, taking in the beautiful amber eyes of the young babe. It was so innocent, so gentle, he could not leave it there. How could he? The poor child would die in the rain and thunder, wrapped in only a cloth. The High Magician turned heels, holding the babe cradled in his arms, and brought the boy to his tower. And in the high tower, full of magic arcane, he raised the boy, as if he were his own son.
How Solitaire Graveraven was namedThe young abandoned boy was a strange one, even for the eccentric High Magician; he was always doing curious things. As a toddler, he shied away from the other students of the arts arcane, and led himself to a life of solitude. The boy only seemed to open up to the High Magician, and would play with the summoned creatures, and laughed at the humorous illusions the mage conjured. The boy seemed to be reclusive, and quiet, but loved magic. This unusual quietness of a child, and his inability to make friends easily, led the High Magician to call the young boy, "Solitaire", after the boy's temperament, and his own grandfather Solitude. Yet the boy seemed incredibly sociable with those beings not of this world, those that were not human, but not beast, something in between. He made friends with the the Magisterium familiars, and the variety of magical beasts kept in the towers of the great Magisterium. He luaghed and played with all sorts of creatures, and they played with him, even the creatures known for slaughter and destruction, became tame and mellow when playing with the young boy. Even more curious was when the High Magician saw the boy playing with his own familiar, out among tombstones in the graveyard, playing hide and seek, with the High Magician's raven familiar! Such a curious sight, that his normally formal and stringent raven would play and laugh like a child with the young boy. Even stranger that they played so freely among the tombs, the resting places of the dead, without care or respect for the dead men and women resting there, under the soft autumn ground. The sight of young Solitaire playing with his raven in the solemn graveyard gave the High Magician the inspiration for the boy's last name, and so Solitaire came to be known as "Graveraven".
How Solitaire gained his powersEven mages are allowed to take their vacations. Yet for the High Magician of the Magisterium, a break from the norm, is rarely ever a true break. So, when the High Magician took his young son, turning nine in a few months, on a vacation in the summer, it was to their summer home, up in the north, by the edge of the Sessera. Yet for the High Magician, it was a working holiday, researching ancient tomes that he had kept there, and experimenting with raw materials from the ancient forest. Yet for the young Solitaire, it was but another exciting playground. Solitaire would run through the forest, venturing here and there, intentionally getting lost among this ancient ominous trees, trees that blocked the sky, twisting and turning, lurking as if to snatch the young boy from the world. And in this forest of ancient magic and evil, and vile corruption of man, Solitaire frolicked, and tended to nature, as nature tended to him. The worrisome old High Magician, wary to never let his son fall into harm, would frequently go looking for him, before day turned to night, and the evils of the forest, would be beset upon the young boy, and the High Magician would lose his only son.
It was on one of these ventures into the woods that the High Magician wandered into the ancient forest of Sessera, searching for his son, as the forest warped his spells, and led him astray, the trees moving, the earth changing, such that the wizard had to search without magic, and without guidance, only by the sight of his eyes, and the keeness of his ears. Yet unlike other times, the night was All Hallow's Eve, where the forces of darkness and of magic vile were at their strongest. The night swiftly drew forth, and dusk fell upon the forest, and the wizard grew frantic. Solitaire! He cried. Solitaire, my son! Come out here! He called. He received no answer. The forest was quiet, as the birds had fallen still, and not a creature made a sound. And the High Magician heard no reply. He could not see his son. And his worry turned to fear. With a baleful scream, he shouted, SOLITAIRE!!!
Then he heard it. The soft whisper, floating across the breeze, one that didn't exist before. But it wasn't his son's voice the spoke. A woman's whisper, so soft, yet so clear, yet not a whisper, but a song, sung in across the air. As if tenderly calling to a loved one, speaking so passionately, like a mourner, calling for her lover beyond the veil.
Come to me gently, sweet young man
who took my heart on ancient sands.
Curious... The High Magician thought. The voice said young man, and he was certainly not young! Then it dawned upon him, that there was something there in the forest. Something that was with his son. It was his son! Fear gripped the old wizard, as he rushed through the forest, listening to the song of the voice on the wind, feeling in his old bones the rush of magic, ancient magic, beyond the likes of mortals. He began to run. SOLITAIRE! All the while, he could hear, the voice getting louder and clearer, and hum of the wind growing louder, becoming slow chants in a strange tongue, one the High Magician didn't understand, but recognized. He had to find his son. Before it was too late.
Give me back my love, dear boy
And I shall give you back your toy.
Come to me beloved one
So I may call you dearest son.
As the High Magician rounded a corner, and ended up staring down at a clearing in the forest, a little while off, in which he could clearly see his son. And his son was not alone. There in the clearing, was a great blaze of magical fire, in which was a feminine figure, made of magic, calling out to the boy on the edge of the clearing, calling him near, closer and closer, and the boy was stepping rather slowly, closer and closer, till the boy entered the circle of magic, within reach of the being, and the entire clearing was ablaze with magic, which swirled and danced in an ancient form, of sheer beauty, and of sheer power. The wizard saw his son's face as the boy lurched towards the being affectionately, all his attention on the marvelous being before him, entranced by such power. The wizard could make out the form of the figure in the flames. It was clearly feminine, with long, flowing hair, a slim figure with luscious curves, a full buxom, a beautiful face, such that any man would fall in love. Yet it also bore small wings and a flicking tail, and stood twice the size of any man. The wizard's mind warned him that he was dealing with otherwordly forces, and that he was up against a being whose very life force was tied to magic. This worried the mage, for the second he took in his sight, he heard her call Solitaire, Beloved Son... No, I know this magic...I must stop it!
For ancient magics bind you here
for your true form is eldritch fear.
NO! The High Magician cried out, and leapt forward, rushing to enter the clearing, to grab his son, and face the being. With a fahter's love, he rushed forth, running with all his might, the pain of his old bones and the call of his senses unheeded as his love for his son took over his mind. His son was in danger, and he had to save him. His curiosity as to what the being meant, by ancient magics binding him, and of a true form of eldritch fear, all forgotten as he rushed to save his son. Yet he could not. He found he could not enter the clearing, hitting his fists against the magical wall, his spells useless before it, crashing his fists against it with frustration, as his beloved son approached the immense being. With horror and anguish at his powerlessness, the wizard could only watch as the being outstretched its graceful hand, and continued the final lines of her ancient song...
Take my hand and take your might...
NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! The High Magician screamed at the top of his lungs, all his fears and anguish, and horror, his terror at what was to happen to his son in this ancient ritual of blood. And to his horror, Solitaire lurched forward, holding out his hand as the being asked him to take hers, And moved closer, his fingers splayed, inches away from the being's own hand. Tears ran down the wizard's face like streams as he slammed his fists against the magical barrier, trying to get to his son, trying to stop the ritual. But it was hopeless. He had gotten there too late. Solitaire's fingers merely touched those of the being, and the entire clearing was filled with magical energy, of unholy blight, such that the entire area seemed to be ablaze. As the the being and the boy grasped their hands, the boy's tiny hand in the being's massive one, the being pulled the boy close to her hear, enveloping the boy in a tender embrace as the being levitated off the ground, such that the wizard had to look up in tears at his beloved son in the embrace of such a creature. Strangely, through his tears and denials, he could hear a whisper in the being's voice saying, take care, my son... then exclaiming the finishing words of the ritual, with a loud and mighty shout as the sun set on the horizon, and the last gleam of the sun vanished from sight:
Your ancient power, your blood's birthright!
The being glowed bright, such that Solitaire could no longer be seen, and suddenly, the clearing exploded. The waves of magic blasted in all directions from the being and the old wizard was blown back by the force of the magic, as the entire clearing and the surrounding forest was blown apart, trees torn, grass burning, the ground shaking and breaking apart. The wizard lost consciousness then, and did not see what happened next.
When he awoke, there was no clearing, but a massive crater in the forest, where there was nothing there. Pushing off the branch of a tree that had fallen upon him, he looked around, calling, Solitaire? SOLITAIRE?!?!? He crawled, his limbs aching from the explosion, towards the edge of the crater, where he saw at its center his son, smoke rising gently from his body, which lay still, with eyes closed, unmoving. Solitaire! The High Magician cried, as he stumbled down the crater slopes to his son. Kneeling by his son, cradling the boy's limp body in his arms, tears streaming from his face, he wept and mourned, Solitiare...Solitaire...SOLITAIRE!!! He hung his head in agony as he felt his heart breaking in two at the death of his son, his eyes closed shut, picturing in his mind his son's happy playful face. Fa...Father?... His eyes flew open, and he felt his son's body start to stir, trying to move, and open his eyes. SOLITAIRE! You're ALIVE! And the old wizard threw his arms around his son in a tight embrace. Father...I'm okay...What happened? the young boy asked, his voice strained, curious as his eyes were open and taking in the destruction. Nothing Son...nothing.
How Solitaire's powers were discoveredBeing the High Magician of the Magisterium does have its advantages. For one, the High Magician is allowed an almost inexhaustible amount of funding for research, as well as free reign over the use of magic within the Magisterium. Yet one of its better advantages of having such power, was his ability to send his son to the Magister Academy, a branch of the Magisterium which taught students of all ages and backgrounds the art of magic. And he didn't even need to pay the tuition, since it was his own son. (Which reminded him that he needed to go over their rates once more, they were exorbitant!). For yes, though the young boy showed no real interest in studying much of anything, the old wizard had to send his son away to live on the other side of the country, where he would be safe, surrounded by magical barriers and more magicians than some might deem necessary for a school. Plus, the school would be a great cover for the young boy, such that the nature and source of his... talents...would remain obscure and confused. The secret was too great. If anyone knew what his son was, or what his son could do, Solitaire would be taken away, locked in a prison. Forever. The old wizard could not let that happen to his only son, his one true joy in this world. Magic clearly ran through the boy's veins, that the High Magician could not deny. He hadn't been entirely sure after the incident in the forests of Sessera, but he had irrefutable proof now.
After the incident in the forest, Solitaire seemed different. He walked with more purpose, instead of his usual carefree attitude, and he spoke loud and clear. His always smiling face seemed to have turned to stone, as his constant smile played across his face less and less frequently. A change had come over the happy young boy of 10, and the old wizard did not understand why. The ritual in the forests had done something to his son, of that he was sure, but what it did, he did not know. Solitaire had been taken to wandering around the tower, more often than normal, venturing alone in the more unused parts of the tower, sometimes venturing into the dungeons without supervision, where dangerous creatures were kept for experimentation and research, rare and dangerous creatures that were feral and vicious, with undying hatreds for humanity which kept them penned like prisoners for their own uses. It was unusual for a 10 year old boy to venture into the dungeons without an adult, as some of the creatures kept in the tower's dungeons were deadly, easily able to snap the young boy in half like a twig. It was not a thought the High Magician liked to think of. Not at all.
Yet it was curiosity that drove the High Magician to the dungeons one night, looking for his son. That and worry, for the creatures were even deadlier at night, when they could see clearly, while humans could only rely on the flickering torch light. The High Magician walked through the grimy dungeon halls, keeping away from the cages, lowly calling for his son, trying to draw attention from the creatures kept here. Then he heard the creaking iron, the sound of a rusty hinge, swinging open, then followed by loud CLANK! as it clammed shut. O no... the old wizard thought, and rushed to the door from which he heard the sound. Staring into the cage, he saw his son standing inside, looking around, with his torch, calling gently, Come out, come out, Mr Owlbear! Where are you? Fear gripped the High Magician who began to fumble for the key ring at his belt, as the shut door had locked itself as it closed. This was the cage of the owlbear, and he knew it well, having helped capture it after the wizard who created it lost control of the beast. It was a monster unlike any other. He could picture the hulking figure, 8 feet tall, taller than any man, with long sharp claws and a dull ivory colored beak, both razor sharp, and the dull brown feather fur that cloaked the monster. Yet what he most remembered were the eyes. Large, glowing eyes, rimmed with dark red the color of blood, emanating sheer primal madness and fury, unquenchable anger, the psychotic killer. Eyes that he now so glowing, staring with bloodlust at his son.
Solitaire! Get back! the High Magician cried. His son looked back rather curiously, unaware of the danger he was in. Yet the owlbear had already seen him, and with a large howling screeching roar, it leaped forward, claws extended, aiming to take off the young boy's head in one fell swoop, just as the boy turned back, and stared at the beast in shock and fright. SOLITAIRE! NO! The High Magician screamed, fearful of the thought of losing his son once more. And the boy screamed, loud and scared, and fell back to the ground crying and screaming his head off, holding up a hand in a pitiful attempt to ward off the beast. Pointless. As the terrible beast's claws almost ripped the boy's neck, with gleaming eyes and raging beak, the boy cried STAY AWAY! with tears running down his eyes, a puddle on the floor. And suddenly, the room flashed with a bright vibrant light, as the beast was blown back by some force, clearly hurt, and staggered back, reeling from the force. The High Magician paused for a second, wondering where the magic came, for it was magic that blew the beast back, pure magic, and he had not used a spell. He then realised, with horror, that his son had the gift of magic, and a more powerful one it was, for he used it without speaking, without training, without thinking. The boy could use magic!
His hands finally found the right key, and the High Magician unlocked the door, throwing it wide open, stepping boldly between the beast and his son, his hands groping at the pouches at his belt, and his mind trying to remember the correct spell. He drew forth a pinch of brimstone, and threw it in a cloud, and chanted some words as he threw a bit of bat guano at the owl bear, and shouted the final incantation, and the owlbear was enveloped in fire, howling in pain. It screeched and clawed at itself, blinded by the pain, and lunged at the wizard and his son, but hit an invisible wall, which had suddenly come up. It hammered this barrier, howling with rage, as the High Magicain bent to take the young boy into his arms, mindful of the puddle the boy had made, and drew him into a tight hug, whispering soflty and gently, It's okay...it can't hurt you now...it's alright. Then he helped the boy to his feet, and led him upstairs, tucking the boy into his bed gently, and soothing his fears with a story, telling him how brave he was, and that he should never do it again. As the boy fell asleep, the High Magician went to his own chambers, and began to think what to do about his son's new powers.
The High Magician finally decided that though hiding his son's powers would allow them to stay together, he knew that he would be found out eventually. There was no avoiding it, and the boy would find out about them sooner or later. It would be better for the boy to learn to control his powers, so nobody would get hurt. After a fortnight of thought, the High Magician decided to send his only son across the country to join all the other aspiring magicians, to learn magic. He only hoped that his son's true powers would not be discovered by anybody there.
Life at the Mage AcademyThere are three places where mages are accepted completely for who and what they are, where the majority of the licensed magicians in Rhozar stay when not on their independent travels or conducting private experiments. The first is Bureau of Magic, the main executive office for the Magister Wardens, keepers of order, where the practitioners of magic are regulated and tested for their licenses. The second is the High Tower, a skyscraper of stone and magic, built to house a thousand armies within, where magicians of all sorts come to stay and experiment and learn, with an expansive library that boasts the entire history of written knowledge, archived somewhere within, housing massive laboratories and experimental rooms for magicians, and the place where Solitaire was raised. Finally, the third bastion of magicians in the Rhozar is the Magic Academy, an old, massive castle, turned into a school for aspiring magicians, to learn and practice the art, to hone their skills, and study so that they may become Magisters in their own right. It is in the Magic Academy where talents for magic are nurtured and allowed to grow, in a 'safe' environment, free of the abasement that they would suffer from the average person in Rhozar. It was here that Solitaire was sent at the tender age of ten to learn how to use magic.
Solitaire arrived at the Magic Academy with his father by his side, carrying his suitcase with him, as his father strode through the magnificent halls with importance. Solitaire could not help but notice the stares and strange looks he was getting from the other children at the school, and felt embarrassed about his father for the first time. When Solitaire was left at the Magic Academy, he felt rather lonely and cut off from the rest of the school, missing his father, and rather wary of the mayhem caused by the hundreds of students trying to master magic and keep it under control. Unfortunately, Solitaire himself caused a bit of mayhem as well as his attempts at spells sometimes led to disastrous explosions. The students always laughed at the mess ups, and tried to help each other to do better, but for some reason, they were always hesitant to help Solitaire. Even the teacher's were somewhat off put, always on their guards, and putting up fake smiles and pretending to be nice to the young boy, because his father was the High Magician. Solitaire hated it.
He was doing terribly in his wizardry classes, and his practice spells always blew up, and he could see the disappointment in all his teachers' eyes. Here was the son of the High Magician, struggling to learn magic, constantly messing up the most simple of spells. Yet Solitaire could never find the time or the patience to sit down and read boring books, or to memorize a multitude of random formulas and equations and rituals he was going to forget anyways the second he used them. Solitaire began to play truant often, which drew from his teachers more looks of confusion. The boy who should have been their best student, was failing most of his wizardry classes! It was only when one of the teachers saw him practicing combat magic, casting a rather tricky force spell multiple times in quick succession, with impeccable accuracy, that Solitaire was taken out of his wizardry classes and placed in classes for sorcery and for introspective use of magic, rather than constant study. There, Solitaire flourished, able to tap into his inner reserves and call upon a multitude of spells, building them up in his mind, finding his magical powers.
It was in these lessons years after he had first began taking them that Solitaire began to realize his own true powers. His latent abilities, the ones he always had, yet never knew how to use. He tried to ask his teachers about the type of magic he could feel within him, but he could not get any decent answers. So Solitaire took to training in secret. In the dead of night, in a hidden and quiet training area, where no one ventured, Solitaire practiced his art. Not just the spells the school taught him, but he meditated and reached within himself, to draw forth hidden reserves of power, inexhaustible reserves, summoning raw magic from the fabric of existence, able to do so infinitely, that he blew through training dolls like they were paper. The power astounded him, and he began to wonder what these powers were, powers that none of the teachers would talk about. Solitaire grew contemplative and quiet, the previously boisterous and loud troublemaker turned into a serious and focused student, trying to figure out what his powers are and how to use them. Even more so, he remembered what his schoolmates said about normal people not liking them since they had magic. Solitaire began to fear what would happen if the secret of his powers, powers nobody else seemed to understand, were to be known. He feared that even the other mages would outcast him, so not only would those without magic hate him, but those with it as well. So Solitaire began to train his powers in secret, trying to find ways to hide them under the guises of spells, such that if he were ever caught, he could make his powers seem like spells, by saying random words and waving his hands around as he warped the fabric of magic with his thoughts.
T'was a deadly power, one that Solitaire struggled to bring under control. And this was a difficult secret to hide. In one of the practice matches against an older student, Solitaire was trying to hold his own against the young wizard, who kept trying to bewilder him and blast him with magic, with which Solitaire had to fight against with his own limited magic. Yet the fight was going badly, and Solitaire was in a corner. As the older student drew near, Solitaire unleashed his powers with a scream and a wave of his hand, and the student was blown back in pain. Yet it wasn't the student that had been hit by the bolt of raw magic. It was the student's familiar, an owl that had been hovering above the student, that had taken the blast, and was killed by the sheer magical power. The student received his familiar's blow, and was thrown back in pain, unconscious from the sudden loss and death of his familiar, put into a coma that he barely survived. The other student could barely cast magic anymore, and was never the same since. Neither was Solitaire. For the first time in his life, he understood the finality of death, and the effect it had. Solitaire changed from that day forward. The owl's death led to his choice to use his powers, so that he need not be afraid of them, but control them so that he doesn't kill by accident. It also taught him the magician's weakness. No matter how powerful the magician, if his or her familiar could be injured, than the magician could be destroyed. Little did he know how true his words would once be. So when offered the chance to take a familiar at the Magic academy, Solitaire refused, instead learning how to do the ritual himself, waiting for the right creature to make his constant companion.
Solitaire spent 6 years at the Magic Academy, learning the art of magic, before leaving the school to take the test and earn his license to be a magician.
The TestAt the tender young age of 16, barely turning a man, Solitaire decided that it was time to take the test. It was a risky move, knowing that he would have to open his mind to the testers in order for them to create the test, and his secrets could be revealed. Yet he decided to take the test anyways, unable to bare staying at the school for much longer. He embarked on journey to the Bureau of Magic, and applied to take the test. Waiting a week for the paper work to get filed(the process was expedited by his father, so it didn't take the standard half year), Solitaire prepared himself both mentally and physically for the exam. It was an ardous ordeal, waiting for the test, knowing that it would poke and examine your weaknesses, forcing them into light, testing your strengths to exploit those weaknesses. A week of introspection at trying to figure out what your weakness is, what was wrong with you. When Solitiare entered the testing grounds, he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
As Solitaire exited the test, 24 hours after he had walked in, he stumbled out of the archway, robes shredded, bones broken, bruises and scorch marks covering his body, and he collapsed from the exhaustion, and the fatigue. He could barely move, and was tended to in a healer's ward for a month before he could find the strength to go out and about. All the time, he refused to discuss what happened in the test, and the mages whose magic fueled the exam were confounded as to how they were unable to remember what happened. The test had taken its toll on Solitaire, showing him his fatal flaws, what he could and could not do. It opened his eyes to the truth of his life, and showed him what he truly thought of himself and the world around him. And Solitaire decided to act upon that knowledge, and his powers grew. The change that had started in the forest those years ago had finally settled in, and Solitaire accepted it.
Now, he stood taller when casting his magic, though minor magic it was, it had strength and power to it. When focusing his energies to use his spells, others would note that his eyes seemed to glow the color of molten gold, but always thought it was a trick of the sun. He could now pull on his reserves, exhaust them, and his studies had paid off, as the test had not only measured his skill, but taught his how to withhold his magical powers, and let parts of it out, keeping his offensive spells in reserve. Solitaire was much more powerful at combat magic, but had changed to acquire it. When his father offered to give him a position in the Magisterium, for the first time Solitaire denied to obey his father's wishes, and struck off on his own, traveling the lands, to see what kind of life he could make for himself. Why have you been chosen?:
The hidden leader. (not the one people expect to lead, but the one who directs from the shadows)
Solitiare is the son of the High Magician, Master of the Magisterium. The man had already made his name known throughout the lands for vanquishing many foes on his own, without the aide of others, sometimes going off into the wilderness, and coming back with the pelts of several dangerous, wild animals without a scratch on him. It was said the the young magician, though unable t use complex magic, had the gift for living where others did not, and was dubbed by some, "The Immortal". Though a dark, rather solitary young man, Solitaire was also known for the fact that he had studied under his father for some time, and could be trusted. Though he is a mysterious fellow that not much is known about, his track record for effectiveness leaves no room for doubt, and the King chose Solitaire to help lead the expedition, hoping that a bit of the magician's knack to survive would help keep the expedition going, and would lead them safely through danger. Though it would be useful to have a wizard along, having someone that can blast things to keep the wizard alive is even more valuable. As such, Solitiare is a hardy battle mage, and can be trusted to protect his allies from harm. Or at least keep them alive for a while.
Last edited by JimRazor; 05-28-2012 at