Alistair leans on the wall at a lean five foot four. He carries himself confidently and has an aura to him that projects his seriousness. He has wispy black hair that extends outward just below ear level. His dark green eyes show a man who has wisdom beyond his apparent age and his mannerisms are slightly more deliberate than usual. He wears a red cloak and wide-brimmed flaxen hat. At his side, he carries a twisted bronze-colored kriss on his left and waste level quiver at his side. On his back you see a carefully carved wooden bow adorned with the symbol of Hijarn, with knotches on it, one for each foe of the church he's taken down.
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Class: Inquisitor of Hijarn
Personality: Alistair lived his life in the monastery with very little contact to the outside world. As such, he lives and breathes the teachings of Hijarn and has devoted himself fully to them. At first glance, he comes off to many as a zealot, but he does not think of himself this way. He has simply never known another life or very many other points of view.
He is on a journey of self-discovery however and is attempting to take these new viewpoints into consideration, but he is not flawless and will still make plenty of missteps. He is a brilliant priest and excellent hunter, but his social skills are about as dull as his old knife.
Background:
Alistair is the illegitimate child of a very influential elven nobleman of Coronus and a priestess of the church of Hijarn. Alistair is under the impression that he was orphaned at a young age and taken in by the church, but in reality he was left there by his father who could not keep the boy close for political reasons.
Under the impression that he was just any other orphan, Alistair embraced life with the church. He became well versed in its tenets and seemed to enjoy learning about them. He was not very social and due to the ever-presence the church had in his life, he soon found himself aspiring to join the priest class. However, unlike other aspirants, he was equipped with natural talent in areas that made him perfect for the Justiciar branch of the priesthood. He undertook training with the bow and soon began putting Hijarn's teachings of protection into practice. The priests patrol the city as a sort of police force, looking to stop criminals and make short work of any raids by monsters that might occur on the outskirts of town.
Alistair himself was very good at these tasks of hunting and either killing or capturing fugitives and soon found himself involved taking on the role officially for the city. This small amount of prestige bought him a place among the middle ranks of the priesthood of Hijarn, which brought with it societal obligations. In addition, his newly found social obligations have caused him to re-evaluate himself to some degree. He has little personality outside of his devotion to the teachings of Hijarn. This bothers him and he has undertaken a self-designated quest to find himself in the coming weeks and months.
Social Class: Priest Class
Last edited by moggthegob; May 17th, 2010 at 05:41 PM.
Name:Elemin Vael Race: Human Class: Sorcerer (Arcane Bloodline) Social Rank: Son of a Powerful Wizard (his father is wealthy, yes, but it goes without saying that a wizard is always an influential presence) Physical Description:
Being still in the middle of his scholastic career at a nearby wizard's college, Elemin dresses himself in the fashion of the day, as befits a young scholar: green jerkin, constricting though it is, and long green breeches (the color is not in fashion, but it is his favourite). At his hip, Elemin carries a strange sword that once belonged to his father, though it apparently holds no value apart from sentiment.
When he travels, and lately that has been quite often, Elemin also wears a cloak - his signature green, of course, but decorated with the golden dragon emblem of his family's crest. The cloak's clasp is a chain of small mithral links that gleam with rare polish.
For the features of the man inside his garb, Elemin is not unattractive, though neither is he anything that stands out, apart from being magically inclined. His hair is brown, straight, and cropped short; his eyes are a dull bluish-green; his nose is middle-size and neither round nor pointy; his ears are similarly indistinct.
Personality:
As noble as his garb may be, Elemin thinks rather little of himself - which is perhaps owing to the name his father gave him, which was a diminutive version of his own (Elemander, the name of his father, meant "First Mage" - Elemin, therefore, means "First Little Mage" - an embarrassing title for an aspiring wizard).
Having maimed a fellow classmate on his first day at the academy, Elemin is burdened by the responsibility of his power, and that classmate's enmity fostered a growing guilt in the young mage, a trait that has more than once led him to the precipice staring bleakly into the abyss. This sometime loathing of himself is reflected in its opposite in company: he is pleasant, confident, even haughty on occasion, and quick to distance himself from his father's reputation, claiming that he was not born to live in his father's shadow, but rather to overtake the First Mage's accomplishments a hundredfold.
This blanket of pride should perhaps be a sign to others of his inner flagellation, but he is so good-humored and magically talented that it seems impossible he could want for anything. He is not without friends, but it would be accurate to say that he has no close friends. This is what has brought him, briefly he thinks, to Coronus.
Background:
As is frequently the case with the men in his family, Elemin's mother was a woman of little consequence to her husband, or so the world would have supposed based on what little they saw of her. In truth, Elemander Vael loved his wife Rissa very deeply, and together they made an adoring couple that might have caused a right scandal if their actual love life were to be made public.
Instead, they loved each other secretly, in the privacy of their home; they made great sport of each other, played games of intrigue with the servants, theorized a conspiracy and a war between Elemander's hounds and Rissa's cats, imagined a world of fantastic things that should have made the perfect grounds to raise a child in; and in fact that was just their intention, for very soon after they were married, Rissa was declared by the doctor who came to visit one day to be quite fertile, and with living proof inside her.
The home of Elemander and Rissa Vael became a house of child-rearing preparations, putting padding on all the corners of tables, raising the shelves another few inches to be just out of reach, painting the walls of the guest room blue one week and pink the next as they decided, quite in vain, whether their forthcoming child would be a boy or a girl (for Elemander was a powerful mage himself, you know, and could choose the infant's gender with a wave of his hand, or so he said). They eventually decided on green - it was Rissa's favourite color, after all, and they were tired of repainting again and again, and anyway it was a nice color for either a boy or a girl.
In the event, when the baby was born Elemander did not have the time nor the inclination to choose. He was busy mourning the loss of his wife.
You might say that the laughter went out of him that day; and although it was grossly out of custom, he named the boy (for it was a boy, as Rissa might have hoped) not a usual child's name like Luc or Niv, but Elemin, the name of a wizard and in fact the name of himself, if slightly changed.
A child growing up with the name of a mage cannot have an ordinary childhood, and a child growing up without a mother must have a difficult one; so it was with Elemin, whose childhood was both extraordinary and difficult. He was given to a nurse for the first two years of his life, to grow strong on her milk and to learn to crawl and stand and then walk on his own; and then, when he was just learning to talk, his father - who by now was a quite impressive wizard by public standards but rather an angry man by unanimous opinion - began to tutor his son in the laws of physics, mathematics, and linguistics.
So it was that before he could read and write, Elemin knew the history of both, and several languages to boot.
His favourite color was green.
At the age of five, Elemin was provided with a private teacher in a man named Bath Jerrison, who attempted to teach Elemin the wonders of literature in such classics as What Monster Lives in Yonder Cave? and The Colours of a Rainbow (both of which are picture-books, and neither of which entertained Elemin for more than a week). Elemin learned from Bath Jerrison, but it was obvious from the fury with which he devoured every scrap of knowledge that the boy was craving something more than his mundane instructor could offer.
Nevertheless, Elemander left his son with Bath for seven years before realizing his mistake; he was quite busy becoming involved in politics, and hadn't done much of any parenting whatever, and in fact seemed to resent the existence of a son who looked so like his mother and insisted on wearing her favourite color. At last it was Elemin, and not Elemander, who broke the silence between them: "Father," he said, "I wish to learn magic."
Well, it was only a matter of time, of course, with a name like Elemin (and green is the very color of magic, you know, and it was his favourite after all); but his father was not pleased to know that his son might be following his footsteps. And he told him so.
"I'll not have you following my footsteps," he told his son, "when you should be out...doing...playful things!"
He wasn't sure what he meant. He was sure that he didn't want his son to be disappointed; for although he was a powerful mage, he did not know the spell that would bring his wife back from death, and in fact it was for that reason alone that he resented his son so much: he could not escape the memory of his failure to protect his beloved wife, and although he had vowed to find the very spell that he lacked, he had failed to uncover it in all his searching.
He did not say any of this to his son; and when it looked as though he might let something slip, Elemander relented, and sent his son off to the nearest college.
At the age of twelve.
He was not the youngest one there - people attend wizard's college at all ages, young and old - but it was rare for a student to arrive at the school already Named; in fact most students did not receive a Name - that is a title of power, such as Elemander (First Mage) or Serul (Dragon Eye) - until the day they graduated. To have one already was not a thing to be proud of; it was presumptuous, and people said so.
That was, until the first day of class, when his teacher told him to summon a ball of fire from nothing and, quite unwittingly, he did.
The flame tore through another student's hand, disintegrating it completely, and although surgeons and a wizard were later able to regenerate the boy's appendage, Elemin was marked as a Sorcerer - a wielder of uncontrolled magic. He was placed under the supervision of one of the school's less talented tutors, Heilan Sterling, to try and temper his power and bring it under close rein.
In fact, Heilan Sterling was not untalented at all, and in fact was more powerful than any wizard ever was, although this is not a story about him; he taught Elemin a great deal more than simply controlling his power, and before too long the boy was not only a mighty sorcerer, but he was also a quite elegant wielder of magic. There is a difference, of course; for a wielder of magic is something like a skilled swordsman who knows all the techniques and footwork that make him clever and great, whereas a sorcerer, albeit powerful, is more like a boy hurling clods of mud hoping to someday throw a rock by mistake.
Elemin became a wielder of magic. It was the thing that earned him the final respect of his peers and at last erased the enmity between himself and the boy whose hand he'd mutilated (his name was Siq), but it did not bring him satisfaction, and so at the quite early age of sixteen, he left the school in search of something - not more or better, but simply different.
Name:Paror Rore Race: Human Class: Bard Social Rank: Parents were powerful nobles, he prefers to stay out of the noble life however
Physical Description: Paror is a fairly tall man standing at about 6 feet, he has a trim figure and is never seen without his fine purple suit. He has matted brown hair, green eyes and an almost distant look in his eyes. His skin is fair, his chin covered by a few days of stubble. He wears little jewelry, not even a family crest or insignia, nothing that distinguishes himself as a true noble. He wears a blade by his hip that hums as it is drawn and used. Under his fine clothes he wears a light, finely crafted Mithral breastplate, which protects him from any day to day events he encounters.
Personality: Paror is a whimsical man who varies drastically from second to second, he can be decidedly focused and passionate one minute and bored and unamused the next. He rambles frequently, long strings of poetic words and phrases that might not even have a real meaning. His actions vary as such too, altruistic one time and merciless the next, it is impossible to pin him down to any one trait, other than that of a wanderer and charismatic man.
May 17th, 2010, 10:57 AM
