[u][b]Name:[/b][/u] Walden Ravenbane [u][b]Gender:[/b][/u] Male [u][b]Age:[/b][/u] 46 [u][b]Race:[/b][/u] Va’sha [hider=Va'Sha] The Va’sha are human in build and general appearance. With Skin as pale as the snow, flawless and smooth. Their hair comes in the colors of nature, and almost always affected by their vocation. The average height is slightly above that of an ordinary human. They do not posses any other bodily hair, other than the hair on their head, and their rather bushy eyebrows. Their irises glow vibrantly, usually in hues of blues and greens. Rarely in other colors yet some have been noted. The Va’sha are magic in nature their entire society forms around its study and most would even say that they worship it. Outsiders are rarely permitted into the walled city of Va’shar. Depending on the type or types of magic learned the hair of the Va’sha changes. They care little of the politics of the outside world and keep only a small standing military, although all of the Va’sha have military training few ever choose to pursue a life of marching, and sword play. Even fewer study the Black magic, things considered by the Va’sha to be taboo. Those who are caught are executed, a very few escape and are banished to never return. Those born without magic often take on a craft, in recent years a majority of those born posses almost no magical ability, they labor under spellcrafters creating ordinary objects such as chairs and assisting in crafting magical objects. After the battle with the mad king, and the death of King Baelnorn Va’Shar’s military force was obliterated, and only a few managed to straggle back to the homeland. [/hider] [u][b]Appearance[/b][/u]: Hair as black as coal with strands of glittering silver spattered throughout his mane, it resembled the night sky dark and beautiful with white lines highlighting his age. He had always kept his hair shorter on the sides and faded up into the longer portion atop his head. The longer hair was slicked back so it laid neatly against his skull. Irises like the raging sea they were dark blue flaked with sea foam green. He had lovely facial features from his prominent cheekbones to his squared jaw. Three long jagged scars ran from his jawline, stopping short of his eye and another scar ran across the bridge of his nose, removing with it a small chunk of cartilage. Each of the scars were as wide as man’s finger, and smooth to the touch. His lips were thin, and his mouth was wide, when pulled into his normal lopsided smile it showed healthy white teeth. His body was well toned and fit from years of traveling on the road. He wore an old wool cloak, the bottom caked in dry mud and dirt. It had once been grey like a storm cloud, but now it had mostly faded. It had patches sewn into the gown to repair the damages done by travel on the roads. The garment was complete with a few stray strands of thread poking from its seams. Underneath the cloak he wore an off white tunic with a black double vest it had two small pockets on the front. In addition to the tunic and vest he wore a pair of dark brown trousers, and a thick leather belt. Several pouches were secured to his belt to include his coin purse. His boots were dark brown with squared toes. They were well worn in and the soft leather had many creases. On his back he carried an old black rucksack, it had a large flap with two smaller side pouches, one of buckles securing the smaller pouches seemed to have worn out, and no longer clasped properly. [u][b]Personality[/b][/u]: Unlike a majority of his race Walden prefers to travel, often finding company with those on the road he reveals little about himself but takes interest in those around him. He fights for his continued survival often going the extra length to make sure of it. He doesn’t shy away from silencing those who know to much or slow him down in dire situations. At first meeting Walden seems friendly, kind and caring. After one gets to know Walden they notice the strange idiosyncrasies about him; his secrecy, his cold crase demeanor, and other oddities. On rare occasion he feels compelled to do acts of good or kindness, something that always unsettles himself afterwards. [hider= History] [u][b]History[/b][/u]: Walden was born to prominent parents in the Va’sha, they held seats on the council of magi for several terms. His life was a whirlwind at a young age, he attended the Magi Academy of Va’Shar, the most prestigious school in the city. His off time was filled with tutors and extra lessons, he was recognized as one of the more promising students from the academy. At the end of his twelve years of schooling he graduated top of his class and with full honors. After his schooling he began his independent study of Ancient magic, which quickly took a dark turn. He spent most of his nights and days pouring over old texts. In his pursuit of knowledge and better understanding he lost touch with society. His parents sent letters though he left them unanswered, they piled on a stand next to his desk. On a unseasonably warm fall day, a new book had arrived on his desk. One his servants couldn’t answer for. It was bound in black leather, with a silver clasp for locking the book shut. The pages within were well worn, having been flipped through many times, its ink reddish-brown similar to dried blood. The author had written the book in the book in a dead language. Each letter of every paragraph was masterfully crafted, the drawings that were included were done with painstaking detail, and care. After several weeks of searching he found an older text that translated the dead language, he labored for months to finish the translation, but had gotten no where. Every time he shut the book the contents changed, he was growing furious with his work, so much so he had attempted to get rid of the book only for it to return to his desk. He spent every waking moment on the book, and after several years he became competent enough to speak the language and read it. He had began to perform the magic within the book, and things took a turn for the worse. Certain spells required fresh blood, more than he could offer. He bound his servants to the house with the magic of the book. They continued their duties, often doing their best to avoid him. Although once in awhile one of them would go missing, and they would say a silent prayer for them. He carried on like this for several months. The families petitioned the council for support, and were granted help from the city guard. Walden was caught off guard when they battered his manor gate down, to slow the guard down and to give him time to escape he turned the few surviving servants into thralls, they held would hold the guards for only a minute. He escaped out the back and managed to flee the city. He managed only to take a few supplies with him, leaving behind years of work. He tried to continue his work but found it hard when coin was short and people traveled in caravans, instead he began his work as a Mage for hire, and was quickly picked up by a Mercenary Company. Eventually the company was hired on under King Baelnorn’s army. The battle went well until the unit he was attached too pushed to far forward and nearly cut itself off from the bulk of the army. In the heat of the battle walden was wounded, his face gashed open and bleeding. His blood blinded his right eye, he was one of the few left standing in the unit, he had to hold the line. Otherwise he’d be cut down in retreat. He held his tome aloft in his hand, the other out stretched, the Mad king's warriors charged the thin line with only the Necromancer standing between them and the wounded soldiers being carried to the back. “Klaatu Bradaaa Netpto.” The dead that lay on the field around him began to convulse and quake, Their eyes a ghostly white. They stood slowly, just in time to engage the enemies. The dead and the enemy warriors locked into battle. His undead servants were not as quick as their live counterparts, but it did scare them a good deal. His hand was held upwards with fingers curled in, wet with his own blood. The ground shook below the enemy warriors, they'd just dispatched the last of the undead and were about to advance when a hands of stones erupted from the ground grabbing the men they scream as Walden crushed them in his projected hands their blood soaking the stone. It caused the second wave to falter and Walden took advantage and escaped in the chaos, but not before raising a rear guard. [/hider] [u][b]Equipment[/b][/u]: Ritual Knife, Cloak, Rucksack with supplies, Boots, and Tome of Black Magic. [u][b]Other[/b][/u]: A well versed necromancer, and a skilled black mage.