[quote=@Snagglepuss89]
So, yeah, there's going to be a lot of world building in this, and I [i]assume[/i] it's all right considering the freedom we were given in the interest check. Still, if anything doesn't check out we'll call it Draft 1. Or if everything is bollocks then we'll call it "Oh no, I wasn't [i]serious[/i] about posting that, it was a joke! The [i]real[/i] guy is totally being worked on right now!"

[hider]Name: Maardaire "Ra'is" Eihnigan, Archduke of Steel-Stream

Age: 33

Gender: Male

Appearance: [img]http://img09.deviantart.net/f081/i/2013/226/e/3/black_by_artastrophe-d6i4ejl.jpg[/img]

While born in the mountains of Borea, Maardaire lacks the fair-features inherent in most people of the region. When trade still bustled from the town of Deepshaft, the Eihnigan family often wed foreigners, to the point where it's been joked that they cannot entertain themselves, for their hands were born local. Regardless, aside from this his well toned but lithe frame indicate a style of swordsmanship that focuses on the fluidity rather than brute strength. Perhaps due to the craftsmanship of his weapon never requiring it against most foes. 

Personality: Gregarious would be Maardaire summed up in one word. He enjoys the company of others, and socializes frequently with people no matter how much lower than he is on the social ladder. A thrill-seeker, he relishes the feeling of his blood pumping when in danger, and rarely can he resist the chance to challenge someone whose skill level can match or exceed his own. Still, age has tempered this tendency of his, and being the father of a growing nation with no heir means he could afford fewer risks in life. 

History: The Steel Stream is a great river that runs south along the eastern edge of the Iron Kingdoms. While it's original name has been lost, it's 'nickname' comes from the town of Deepshaft. Deepshaft was positioned perhaps better than any town on the content for metalworking, nestled between the ore-rich Iron Ridge mountains, and a forest of rare Firewood trees. Firewood, despite it's unassuming name, is renowned for it's ability to burn hotter than anything short of what can be produced in an alchemy lab. These trees fueled the forges of Deepshaft for centuries, and helped produce what is considered some of the best steel in the world.

Since the town's origins, it has been lead by one of the founding families, the Eihnigans. Although called mayors, they were lords of the surrounding lands in everything but name. Trading their goods downriver quickly made the area rich and well armed, and it's vital role in supplying the armies of the other surrounding lords ensured it's safety. The land was always neutral in the conflicts that ravaged the Borea, and it's value paradoxically guaranteed it's independence. If one of the bordering kingdoms or duchies set it's sights on the town, Deepshaft would call upon the other surrounding lords for safety, who complied for fear of one of their rivals gaining the valuable territory.

So it existed for centuries, growing in riches and influence, but never size or power. After the Years of Dusk ravaged the land, it withdrew from the world and tried to isolate itself. Regional powers became far too unstable to arm, and generations of plying some of the most sought-after arms in the world ensured that it's people had the wealth to survive until some sense of stability returned to the land. It was these conditions that Maardaire was born into. Sixth son of the Eihnigan family, with almost no prospects of inheriting the lands of his family. Growing up isolated from the rest of the world, with tales of the past importance of the land, and of the horrors outside it filled him with a sense of wanderlust and adventure. Much of his youth was spent reading of the outside world, and training to survive it. Armed with Deepshaft steel, now a rarity in the outside world, he set off while still a teenager, never intending to return home.

Thrust into a world of horror and strife after a lifetime of relative peace and security was an adjustment for Maardaire. Still, every mutant he faced, every brush with death, every time he passed a caravan that may have been bandits in disguise filled him with an utter sense of... living. The young man quickly found work as an escort for caravans, a life of extreme risk in the modern age. For several years he made a living at this, protecting rich men's cargo from the swarms of bandits, barbarians, and stray mutants that ravaged the land. His skills in combat grew steadily, and with it his reputation as a guard. Eventually, he was hired for what was considered the mother of all escort missions: A caravan to bring back goods from the Jade Kingdoms. It was a trip that would change his life.

Ironically, despite the importance and high pay of his task, it was perhaps the most uneventful of Maardaire's jobs. No bandits or beasts beset them on the journey and while the lands they visited were exotic, they were also far too dangerous and secretive to explore in detail. On the final night before returning to Borea though, he stumbled onto a bizarre scene in one of the local watering holes: Six men from the Sand Kingdoms, one very finely dressed, arguing with more than a dozen locals, a few of which were finely dressed themselves and all of which were armed. Apparently the man from the Sand Kingdoms was trying to, unsuccessfully, negotiate a trading agreement with some of the local merchants. These merchants were not taking kindly to the foreigner bothering them, and the dispute quickly escalated from there. It was at the mention of "Dirty lying Sand Snake" that caused the situation to explode, and in an instant nearly twenty weapons were drawn and silence filled the bar. Silence that was broken by Maardaire walking warily between the two groups.

He had done business with one of the Jade merchants the day before, and wasted no time in clapping the man on the shoulder and trying to stay his weapon.

"[color=ff1a1a]Come now, booze is better than blood yes? I'll buy us all drinks.[/color]"

The man, whether swayed by Maardaire's words or his reputation slowly relented, and with a grunt sheathed his sword. Tension left the air, and gradually the silence did too, replaced with calls for drinks. Taking a seat next to the man from the Sand Kingdoms, the two began exchanging tales about their past and their reasons for being so far from home. It turned it the man was a minor lord, and trying to negotiate an agreement with the Jade Kingdoms to bring more wealth to his homeland. Wealth that would buy more weapons, more men, and allow him to take back land that was stolen from his family during the Dusk Years. It was, in the end, a long tale. One that required many drinks, and by the end of the night Maardaire remembered none of it. However, upon waking up in the morning he discovered the men who escorted the young lord were heavily bruised, and Maardair himself had several new injuries. As well as a new job, pay raise, and friend in the man he was now hired to protect. 

Salah-Istandar.

For nearly a decade Maardaire served his friend faithfully. First as a bodyguard, then the Captain of the Guard, and finally as general of Young Lord's armies. Armies that found much success under their new leader, who tried to reform the organization of the army he led. Slowly, he shifted his lord's reliance of mercenaries to a retinue of more local and loyal forces. Men who would fight for honors and land and lord rather than whoever paid them the largest sum of money. Maardaire always led from the front, inspiring his men with his own prowess in battle, and cementing their loyalty to him as well as Salah. In battle, it was nearly always the enemy who broke first, mercenaries motivated by living to spend their earnings rather than their lord's cause. Slowly, the Young Lord beat back his enemies, reclaimed the lands his family lost, and was poised to become a serious power player within the Sand Kingdoms.

Then a letter arrived.

The Eihnigan family was no more. A small neighboring kingdom, finally seeing opportunity in the chaos that followed the Dusk Years, seized Deepshaft. When Maardaire's family refused to swear fealty as well as relighting the forges and supplying their conqueror's army, they were put to the sword. Now, famine filled the region as his people were starved nearly to death, in an effort to make them cooperate without killing off the Master Smiths. An Eihnigan had always ruled over Deepshaft, and now they were begging him to return.

Upon sharing the news with his friend, the man was immediately let go. For his service in helping Salah-Istandar take back his own family's lands, he was allowed to take a portion of the men he had led for years with him, to be his personal servants. In exchange, all that was asked for was a few shipments of the now-scarce Deepshaft steel to help equip what remained of the army. So many of the men he had led volunteered for the job, that more had to be turned away than not. Picking as many without families as possible, Maardaire wasted no time in departing with a seasoned army at his back and as much foodstuffs as his friend could spare. Ahead of him, a rider carried a message back to Deepshaft;

"[color=ff1a1a]Fire the forges.[/color]"

Word of "Ra'is"s march ("Lord", the name his men of the Sand Kingdoms often referred to him by) quickly spread through the Iron Kingdoms once he reached Borea. A Borean leading an army from the Sand Kingdoms was an... unusual sight to say the least, let alone that is was the surviving son of the Eihnigan family. The small kingdom, having gained no Deepshaft steel to bolster it's relatively little military might reconsidered it's blockade of the town and withdrew, offering reparations to Maardaire in exchange for peace before the man had even reached the Steel Stream.

Briefly, the man considered it. His people were half-starved, there had not been nearly enough time to forge Deepshaft steel equipment for his entire army, he had just thrust upon his people a force of foreigners that now made up a significant portion of the population, and most importantly waging war against the kingdom would throw away centuries of neutrality that his ancestors had upheld. Still, many friends he had growing up died as a result of the blockade, and the blood of his family still stained the soil.

In the end, it was not a hard decision.

The town had never considered itself a kingdom, and the mayors had never considered themselves nobles. A new banner was designed, a river dark like Deepshaft steel, winding through blood red sands. Under this banner his army marched, battle-hardened veterans from the Sand Kingdoms, and Deepshaft-clad Boreans thirsty for revenge. They too, before long, had taken to called him "Ra'is" and when the capital city of that shortsigthted nation fell, it was "Ra'is" that was chanted from outside the city walls.

Five years have passed since that day. Wary of being called King in a land where such nations were toppled yearly, Maardaire took the title Archduke and named his lands the Duchy of Steel Stream. Since then he has expanded slowly, fighting off invasions from the neighboring kingdoms and barbarians alike. Still, most of his time has been spent consolidating the power he's obtained. Settling the many Sand-warriors who chose to stay in Borea under his banner, fortifying Deepshaft into a capital city that will never be taken again, opening trade for limited amounts of Deepshaft steel to leave the Duchy, and solidifying an alliance with Salah-Istandar in the Sand Kingdoms. It cannot be said that Steel Stream is one of the most powerful nations around, but none can discount it as a new player in the ever-changing political landscape of the Age of Dawn.

Journey: Restore the stability lost after the Age of Kings for his people. Both through securing his own borders, and trying to prevent war between the dozens of petty kingdoms that have arisen since.

Ideals: 
[list][b]Friendship[/b]: This man would march an army to Hell and back for a friend in need, facing demons from the front lines.

[b]Thrill-Seeking[/b]: A daredevil by most measures, he relishes a chance to throw himself into danger. Somewhat tempered by his age.

[b]Gregarious[/b]: A father to his men, his friendly social nature has earned him the love of many followers over the years.

[b]Multiculturalism[/b]: There is strength in diversity, ethnicity and birthplace mean little to this man. He intends to forge a nation that is stronger than the sum of it's parts.[/list]

Holdings: The Duchy of Steel Stream, a small but wealthy and well equiped nation. His most precious belongings include: Salah, a Deepshaft sword he's carried for most of his life and named after a dear friend, and a red cloak that is fastened with the heraldry of one of the Sand Kingdoms.[/hider]
[/quote]

Notes within.

[hider=Notes]
All in all, there is nothing [i]wrong[/i] with your character. I do think it could use some fine tuning to better fit into the setting, though.

The most dramatic suggestion is that I think your character would better fit in as an Atlantean. The alchemists of Atlantis are already well known for their metallurgy, and it would make sense for an isolated polis (that still swore fealty to the Emperor) to occupy the position that Steelstream did for years, out-maneuvering the political machinations of its rival cities.

So, after a cultural remodel, I think your character could be gussied up a bit. Perhaps more emphasis on a set of skills that set him apart? At the moment he mostly just seems like someone who has had a lot of things happen to him, but not really done all that much himself. Just as a specific example, he sets out to adventure with no real goal in mind, with no mention of any skills being learned that kept him alive in this time. This part of his story could afford to be fleshed out.

Anyway, I'm digressing. My idea would be to put greater emphasis on the "steel and forge" theme that his character carries. Perhaps he himself is a prodigious smith? An alchemical metallurgist? This could be used to spruce up his "Values" section, which is currently not quite what I'm looking for. For those, I want more symbolic representations of your character; ideas perhaps that common folk would associate with the legends of your character. Does that make better sense?

That about covers my thoughts.[/hider]

[quote=@mpcommander]

[hider=Zurgadai "Arrow of the Steppe"]

Name: Zurgadai Khan, "the Arrow of the Steppe"

Age: 58

Gender: Male

Appearance: Zurgadai has the standard complexion of a Lemurian, tanned with heavy amounts of sunburn. He has the narrow brown eyes common to Lemuria. He shows his age with thinning white hair and wrinkled skin. Rarely is Zurgadai seen without his leather/fur armor with a bow slung over his back and a sword at his side.

Personality: Zurgadai has always been fighting to be noticed, always wanting to be seen as heads and shoulders above his brothers. He is never satisfied with being second best, he must be the greatest at anything he does. While he takes any sort of defeat from equals or superiors in stride, nothing infuriates Zurgadai more than an underling besting him. Those who serve Zurgadai walk a delicate line between incompetence and invoking his envy. However despite these faults, Zurgadai's ambition has led him to become an excellent soldier, general, and administrator.

Zurgadai like many Lemurians (and all Lemurian warlords) believe in the principle of "Ur-Gagai" or "Strength is the only answer". Meaning it isn't just acceptable to use violence to solve his problems, but it is irresponsible to do otherwise. In the interests of holding his Horde together, Zurgadai is terrified of appearing weak in front of his subjects which leads to constant appeal to force even whenever its unwise. Due to his belief in "Ur-Gagai", he believes the dirt-lovers of the Iiram empire are naturally weak due to their quick conquest by the Lemurians. He believes that the fall of Iiram was completely just and natural due to their obvious weakness, their overdependence on slaves. 

Because the Masters of Iiram never had to do real work because of their dependence on their eunuchs and their slaves, in the opinion of Zurgadai they have grown weak. He has vowed that would never happen to his Horde. He has decreed that the children of slaves are free, and that slaves cannot be bought only earned through conquest. While this rule is not always followed, it has curtailed the greatest abuses of slavery, and promotes constant raiding to at least cover up the fact that some are enslaving children of slaves.

History:

Zurgadai was born deep within the Lemurian steppe, to a raid-leader and a slave. He had many half-brothers, and his father proved mostly disinterested in raising his blood. In an attempt to win his Father's affection, he practiced the art of the bow and the horse for hours on end as a boy. He did not succeed. Frustrated, the boy assumed that he did not try hard enough. He began to spend every waking moment not preforming duties for his clan practicing with the bow and the horse. Every night he would go to bed with riding sores and hands stained with his own blood. However, no matter what the boy did his younger brother would always best him at the bow. This made the boy's blood boil, for his younger brother almost never practiced. So one day, when Zurgadai and his brother were hunting, he shot his brothers horse straight through the eye in cold rage. After his brother's horse collapsed on top of him, the boy slit his throat and pushed him and his horse into the nearby river.

Zurgadai told the tribe a false tale about how his brother attempted to leap across the mighty Golga with his horse and drowned. Some of the tribe were suspicious, but none would dare speak ill of the son of the mighty raid-leader Gemujin. If he truly killed his brother, Gemujin would handle it. 

The next day Gemujin was scouting ahead for the tribe, when he found something quite peculiar. He found a dead bloated horse along the riverbank. It had an arrow in his eye, and this horse belonged to his dead son. The red fletching marked the arrow as one of Zurgadai's. He chuckled, then broke off the fletched part of the arrow and threw it into the Golga.

Soon after this, Zurgadai was asked if he wanted to train with his father. He jumped at the opportunity. Over the years, Zurgadai became the best shot and rider in his whole tribe. When he became of age, he joined his father's warband. However word began to spread across the Steppe of a Great Khan uniting the clans. Riders from shattered clans fled across the Steppes, warning all who would listen. Zurgadai did not take much stock in this "Great Khan". He was the greatest shot in the Steppe, he had nothing to fear.

At night they struck. The enemy stormed through the camp, burning tents, capturing who they could, and killing the others. Without hesitation, Zurgadai drew his bow and took aim at a man adorned with gold and a silver mask covering his face. His shot struck true. The arrow landed in the man's neck and he collapsed off of his horse. The enemy raiders screamed as the man fell. Zurgadai yelled in triumph, and then felt a sharp blow to the back of the head, and then everything went dark.

When Zurgadai woke up to a splash of cold water, he found his hands bound and an enemy raider glowering over him. He barked at Zurgadai to get on his feet, and pulled at Zurgadai's restraints to pull him up. Zurgadai briefly considered running, but then he realized that there was rope tied between his ankles that prevented anything faster than a slow walk. He followed the guard as told, and he was arranged into a line with the other fighting men of his tribe while the enemy raiders kept watch. He wondered if he was going to die, and was certain that they would when the man with the silver mask approached the group. The only thing that ran through Zurgadai's mind was that there was no man could survive an arrow directly to the neck. 

The Masked Man addressed the group in an unsettling voice: "Stars guide you, I am the Khan [b]who is beyond names.[/b] I will speak truth to you, I know one of you shot my horse in the neck. To honor my steed, I must shed blood. If the man who shot my horse would step forward, I will grant you a quick death. If none step forward, all will bleed."

Zurgadai asked himself why the man would lie about getting shot, but he concluded there was no time to dwell on it. Zurgadai stepped forward: "I shot you, Khan. You may kill me if you wish, as that is your right. However if you let me live, please let me ride beside you and strike down your enemies."

The Khan laughed, and drew his blade so quickly that Zurgadai didn't even see it. He closed his eyes. As he prepared for the end, Zurgadai reassured himself he would die honorably. To his surprise, he felt a gust of air against his skin and his restraints fell to the ground.

As Zurgadai opened his eyes, he saw the masked man sheathing his blade: "I admire your honesty, but what is your name rider?" 

Shocked, Zurgadai replied: "I am Zurgadai of Gemujin."

"You are now to be known as the 'Arrow of the Steppe' rider, and you will join me."

The Khan made the 'Arrow of the Steppe' one of his Generals, or Noyan. Zurgadai did not prove to be the most talented of his generals at the very beginning, but he did prove to be the most loyal. Through his constant strive to become the best, he quickly learned from his mistakes, and won great battles for the Khan. Throughout the years he proved himself to be a loyal servant of the Great Khan, and assisted him in his conquest of Lemuria, and then the great empire of Iiram. He always saw himself as a superior general and fighter to the Khan's children, which is why it is no surprise when the Khan died he bowed to none of his brood. 

He declared himself the new Khan, to great resistance from the Khan's children. Through grit and determination he was able to outlast the successors' assaults until they broke into infighting themselves. Now the "Arrow of the Steppe" rules over a large swath of Western Lemuria some of the conquests in Iiram and a small foothold in Thule. It is uncertain what the Future of Khan Arrow is, but it certain that it will be short as he approaches death at the elderly age of 58.

Journey: Zurgadai wants to be known as the [i]true[/i] successor to the Khan beyond names. This means finally defeating the Khan's brood and conquering the known world (or die trying).

Ideals: [b]Might makes Right:[/b] Zurgadai believes that Might truly makes Right, and anything that is justified by force really is justified, and its irresponsible to ignore violence as a solution.

[b]I will be the Greatest, and I will prove it:[/b] Zurgadai is out to prove that he is the greatest bowman, rider, general, administrator, you name it. He will work hard to achieve his goals, but is envious of anyone who bests him. 

[b]Slaves breed weakness:[/b] Zurgadai is convinced that slavery breeds weakness, and therefore doesn't look kindly at people who haven't 'earned' their slaves. 

Holdings: Zurgadai is Khan of what is known as the "Red Horde". He rules several thousand nomadic riders directly, whereas many Borean kingdoms are tributaries and manage their own affairs so long as they pay tribute to the Horde. He personally owns a few slaves, a steed, a bow, and a sword.


[hider=Things I was confused about and etc.]
So I was going for some sort of Mongol Legend with this character, hopefully it isn't too outlandish. I assumed that Lemuria is basically the Steppe, and the guy who united the tribes is a Genghis Khan Expy. I wasn't sure if he was supposed to be some sort of supernatural threat based on the fact that he has no name, so I left it vague in this character's backstory. I also wasn't sure how powerful the characters are allowed to be, but I'm sure you'll correct me if he's too bullshit :D. 
[/hider]


[/hider]

[/quote]

Notes notes.

[hider=NOTES]

So the first thing that I noticed was that your writing could use a change in tone for this RP. We're meant to be emulating historical epics or classic fantasy fiction, and I feel like your tone is very, very modern and casual. The presence of the phrase, "So one day," heading off a sentence really stuck out to me. Just be aware of this.

I really can't pass too much judgement over your CS because there's a pretty significant mismatch with the timeline. By the time the Nameless Warlord (or Great Khan as you referred to him) died, Zurgadai would have been two at the oldest. The entire Lemurian conquest of Iiram took place over the Years of Dusk, which began 66 years ago. Your CS will probably require a complete retrofit to accommodate this.[/hider]

[quote=@vietmyke]
Hey Cruiser, I hope you don't mind me reapplying with Hadar, I was really excited for the last one and was sad that it didn't take off.

[hider=Hadar the Windwalker][IMG]http://i67.tinypic.com/70yfxt.jpg[/IMG]
[center][Color=khaki][h3]"The Winds of Fate guide me."[/h3][/color]
[/center]
[color=khaki][b]Name:[/b][/color] Hadar Mizrahi - The Scholar Swordsmaster - Hadar the Windwalker

[color=khaki][b]Age:[/b][/color] 40

[color=khaki][b]Gender:[/b][/color] Male

[color=khaki][b]Appearance:[/b][/color] A tall and lean man, Hadar is a man in his prime. His posture is decidedly casual, but his build is obviously of one used to travelling. His coarse, dark hair is pulled into a ponytail, his tanned skin is set off by his hazel eyes, his beard is rough, but maintained, and his mouth is often curled into a wry grin. His body is marked by numerous scars, the most obvious of which crosses his face. His garb is comprised of white and purple robes, loose fitting and easy to move in, and of the traditional Iiram and Sand Kingdoms style. However, during his time in the Iron Kingdoms, Hadar occasionally dons leather armor to protect himself.

[color=khaki][b]Personality:[/b][/color] 
Confident and charismatic, Hadar appears outwardly jovial and warm-hearted. His lazy and carefree demeanor, combined with his near perpetual times of thought is occasionally mistaken for a lack of spacial awareness and carelessness. Underneath his relaxed persona lies an innate brilliance, a highly intuitive and calculative mind. Highly perceptive and logical, Hadar shows an almost insatiable appetite for knowledge and learning of any kind, be it scholarly or practical to the point that his lazy and carefree demeanor is broken by a manic, almost obsessive disposition when presented with relics or tomes that are magical in nature. Despite his lazy demeanor, Hadar is a dedicated scholar boasting considerable knowledge of geography, and alchemical theory, though not a practitioner of the divine craft himself. Hadar possesses a well developed moral compass, and can be fairly protective of his students. 

[color=khaki][b]History:[/b][/color]
[hider]
Hadar was born the second son to a petty warmonger in the lawless wastes of the Sand Kingdoms. Of his many siblings, only Hadar and his older brother lived past their childhood. His childhood was tumultuous and chaotic, their tribe wasn’t large enough to control any of the major remaining settlements, and were stuck constantly waging war against the other small tribes for the desert’s rapidly dwindling resources. As soon as he could walk he was put to work, gathering what little plant matter there was and helping out his family and other tribe members however he could. As a youth, Hadar was forced to the sword in order to fight for his family and for their collective survival. 

As Hadar and his brother grew older, they were brought along with their father and the other men of the warband as they raided and skirmished with other tribes for control of water and resources. As their father and the other men waged battle against the warriors of the other tribes, Hadar and the other youths would make a beeline for the opposing tribe’s valuables: water, food, livestock; and steal them. As Hadar and his brother grew older they were taught in the way of the blade in order to further aid their tribe. 

Showing considerable promise as a swordsman, Hadar proved to be quite competent with a blade, and would eventually be regarded as one of the most talented swordsmen in the tribe. He showed considerable promise as a combatant and joined the ranks of his tribe’s warriors. Extremely proud of his skill, Hadar quickly propelled himself to be among the most prominent of his tribe’s warriors, and eventually became known throughout the deserts. Taking victory after victory for his tribe, Hadar would eventually become well known throughout the Sand Kingdoms as the 'Windwalker', for his near inhuman dexterity and grace. So inhuman was his speed, it was as though he could control the wind at his back, or he could he could detect a man's movements before he even made them. With his skill with the blade, and his fearsome reputation, Hadar helped take his tribe to glorious, heights smaller tribes surrendering outright rather than face down the man that was worth a hundred men.

Hadar led his tribe across the deserts, his tribe believing him blessed by the gods, and following a path of fate. Hadar eventually led his tribe to a secluded shrine that historians had once referred to as Al-Kibrit, the temple in which the original Philospher's Stone was first created. The inhabitants of this shrine were a cabal of warriors possessed of an obscure and and mystic power, claiming to have guarded the temple for the past century. As Hadar led his tribe into the battle, he found himself fighting those who seemed to wield the powers of the gods themselves, faster and stronger than mere mortal men. As his kinsmen struggled to fight off the cabal and were slain, Hadar found himself in single combat with the leader of the strange warriors. 

Only through his own inhuman speed and reflexes was Hadar able to survive the encounter, receiving a gruesome facial and chest wound as the enemy champion seemed to cut into him despite being several feet away. With every ounce of Hadar's skill, alongside considerable amounts of luck, the Windwalker eventually bested the cabal's champion, after a full hour of fighting on the last strands of his life. Claiming the cabal champion's blade as his own, Hadar found himself in possession of a magical weapon, a blade whose edge never dulled, and could cut through the very air around him, maiming men from distances out of his reach. With help of this blade, Hadar managed to return to his tribe, injured, but alive.

Though family, he and his brother often times butted heads. His brother, while a capable warrior in his own right, paled in comparison to his brother Hadar- a mere spark in comparison with a raging inferno. With their father making plans to have Hadar succeed him as the next warlord; Hadar’s brother was wracked with jealousy. Hatching a plot, Hadar’s older brother overthrew him, blaming Hadar for the loss of so many of the tribe's warriors, and accusing him of treason and attempting to lead the tribe towards destruction. Cast out and exiled, Hadar left his tribe, and wandered the desert sands. 

Though he had been abandoned by his tribe, it appeared that those whom had granted him his unique abilities had not. The same wind that propelled his motions guided him forward through the desert. However, still suffering from his wounds, and With little more than his swords and the clothes on his back, Hadar didn’t last very long in the desert and an untold amount of time fending for himself, he finally collapsed.

Hadar awoke to find himself in the care of a hermit, weakened and sick from the desert. Nursing Hadar back to health, Hadar stayed with the hermit for a while-he had nowhere else to go, and the Hermit was kind and knowledgeable. Hadar learned much from the hermit, the cave in which he lived was devoid of the constant conflict that characterized the desert, an oasis of peace in an otherwise lawless land, affording Hadar a taste of peacefulness and calm that he had never before experienced. Hadar learned how to read, and how to write, he learned of compassion, humility and slowly learned the value of human life. The hermit taught Hadar how to read ancient Iiramite texts and alchemy, and while Hadar never had any talent for the craft himself, he was content with learning about it for the sake of scholarly pursuits. Now able to read the ancient runes inscribed upon his sword, Hadar learned of the powerful spirit that resided within his blade. This spirit was of the same power that guided the wind at his back, and now that they had been united, the wind pulled even stronger. The ancient hermit eventually grew old, and died peacefully in his sleep. 

After burying the hermit, Hadar took the hermit's alchemical texts, and works of knowledge and set off back into the desert as a changed man. Following the pull of the wind Hadar ventured west, eventually arriving in the Iron Kingdoms. For the next several years, he traveled through the lands of the Iron Kingdoms, seeking knowledge and teaching wherever he went. At times he drew his blade in the defense of the weak, and often stepped up in the name of defending knowledge and learning. His appearance, and swiftness in combat and his near inhuman speed spread across the Iron Kingdoms. Similar to the stories of the Windwalker, a swordsman believed to be born of demons that tore his way through the Sand Kingdoms, word spread of a swordsman who could move faster than the wind, a near peerless swordsman, who instead of blood, glory and gold sought out books and dusty trinkets. 

Known as the Scholar-Swordmaster, Hadar has been sought out by many across the Iron Kingdoms seeking to prove themselves against him in single combat, or enter his tutelage and learn the ways of the sword. He rarely drew his blade, and often turned potential students down, only choosing those who he believed were of pure body and soul to learn from him.
 [/hider]
[color=khaki][b]Journey:[/b][/color]
Hadar's calling is arguably the simplest- the pure pursuit of knowledge of any kind. Hadar is not satisfied unless he has learned at least something new each day, and as a result scours the world for books he can read, people who can teach, and things he can learn. This knowledge is not limited to scholarly learning either- Hadar also has interest in learning different forms of swordplay, different types of cuisine, dialects. In particular Hadar has the desire to explore the world to rediscover the lost/dying arts of Alchemy. 

[color=khaki][b]Ideals:[/b][/color]
Hadar values knowledge, learning, and personal growth. He constantly seeks to better himself, and encourages those around him to do so as well. While outwardly lazy and carefree, Hadar holds compassion towards those who also embody his values. Though selective in his students, he believes teaching to be one of the ultimate methods of learning. 

Hadar also values freedom, and the ability to pursue growth at ones own pace. He doesn't like the idea of being stuck in any one place for too long, and is commonly afflicted with wanderlust. This is occasionally attributed to the fact that he follows the pull of the winds, following what he calls the Winds of Fate.

Compassion and humility are also core values of Hadar. While one can argue how much compassion a man who so easily fights with a sword may be, Hadar truly values human life and dignity- though his displays of 'compassion and dignity' may not always coincide ideals held by others. 

[color=khaki][b]Holdings:[/b][/color]
A traveler by nature, Hadar holds a precious few things. On his person he carries a satchel, filled with various tomes, scrolls, artifacts, and objects of knowledge and learning, several are of magical or alchemical nature, others are of more mundane. For arms, Hadar carries with him two sabres. The first, is a mundane saber, crafted of fine steel and well balanced, and is kept in a sheath of fine, black coated oak. The second saber, is Hadar's most prized possession, a sabre taken from an arcane foe from the ruins of Al-Kibrit, an ancient Iiriamite temple. Known as the Zulfiqar, the blade's silvery sheen reflects brightly in the dimmest light, and is near blinding in the harsh desert sun. Capable of cutting through the air and maiming men from several feet away, its blade is inscribed with ancient runes and grant Hadar even greater control over the winds that guide his movements. The Zulfiqar is sheathed in a scabbard of fine white ivory and its hilt and pommel are adorned with gold.    

Not technically holdings, but accompanying him is his student Emil, a Borean orphan that Hadar had come across a few years prior. The young borean is just over 18 years of age, and is Hadar's first and only student to be taught in the way of the blade.

Collectively, the two of them share a large beast of burden (imagine large water buffalo) named Clavat, which they use for transport and to carry their more mundane belongings- spare clothes, food, water, cooking implements, and trade items.
[/hider]
[/quote]

No problems here, Hadar is still good. Yeah, I feel like you guys got kind of gypped with the last one, so any former players are free to port their characters over from the previous iteration.

[quote=@KabenSaal]
Cool ass concept. Still got spaces?
[/quote]

Sure. Do you have a character concept I can help with?