Ok so I'm still working. I need to put down the abilities and have more for the myths I just need to see it here. Makes it much easier to work for me. [hider= Markiel, Nature's Arbiter] [center]N A M E / A L I A S Markiel Harrir and his owl Boreas Nature’s Arbiter [img]http://orig11.deviantart.net/48f3/f/2011/208/a/b/divider_by_canzeda-d41w92p.png[/img] M Y T H O L O G Y [hider= Early Life] Markiel Harrir was born to Talor and Madgry Harrir in the small village of Belorook. Nestled at the bottom of the Grand Rook mountains in the far north east of the Kingless Land, a territory with a great many dangers and little rewards for any empire to bother with. For the people who did live there it had many treasures: every man was his own, everyone was there together not apart, and so long as you were alive you were free. Belorook was actually one of the larger settlements it consisted of three extended families: the Harrir, the Calus, and the Byuk. They all lived in a collection of lodges connected by interior bridges to keep people inside as much as possible. The territory was dangerously cold in the winter forcing the families to spend the entire time inside. everything that could ever be needed was inside the collection of structures, from the mill to the forge. The brief summers were Mark’s favorite time. Summer was hunting season. Everyone was assigned a job at birth for what the village needed. There was never discontent, though mostly because of the lack of other options. You either were satisfied or adored your job. Mark was the latter. Trained in two kinds of bows and three kinds of crossbows Mark knew plenty about taking down the creatures all around him. What he was still to learn was how to tame them. His family was known for their use of falconry to collect small game quickly, and of course as the next hunter in the family he was trained in it aswell. The first rite for falconry training among the Harir is a simple test to see if you can train a winter chickadee. Its a simple task over all, but tests patience more than anything. Mark tried to show off by training multiple, but in the end only one listened, and possibly only because he left a biscuit in his pocket. It was enough though, and taught Mark just how important focus is. From here out he only worked with one bird. His first, and only, falcon was Juro. Raising him from a fledgeling Mark adored his bird. Sadly Juro was not long for the hunt. After an accident that injured his wing Juro was forced to remain grounded. Mark cared for the bird until it died of old age. Mark wasn’t quite the same since. Juro was more than a pet. He was a partner. Without him what kind of falconeer was he? His family recommended he train a new falcon, but Mark simply couldn’t do it. He spent fourteen years with Juro, only six of which we hunting. He would not dishonor Juro’s memory by replacing him with another falcon. He did know he needed a new partner though. Now in his mid twenties Mark was a grown man, and decided to finally seek out a new bird to join him. All summer he searched for a raptor fit for him, but nothing spoke to him. The falcons and hawks reminded him too much of Juro, and the rare eagles were too proud to train well. When winter set in, and the birds vanished from the forest Mark had an idea. Only one bird dared stay through the terrible winters of the north. One raptor that soared above all others. An owl whose call echoed through the darkest hours of the blizzards at night. A White Rend Owl. As soon as spring began to show Mark packed up and headed into the mountains in desperate search of the prized bird. Eggs would be close to hatching or there would already be fledglings to take. The only problem was the mother, or worse the father. Both parents of White Rends mate for life and take entire mountains as territory. Between the two nothing can force them out. If Mark didn’t find the nest while the parents were away he’d be torn apart and fed to the fledglings he was searching for. Mark trekked all over the mountains hiding away as much as he could. The stories said that White Rends would happily grab up anything in their territory, and Mark had no reason to distrust his ancestors. The good news was that owls tend to hunt at night. When he found the nest in the middle of the day unattended he was pleased, but terrified. There were three plump fluffy squeaking birdies in the nest. He took a deep breath and scooped up a baby boy placing it into a satchel filled with straw he has prepared earlier. Mark was quick to leave hoping the parents didn’t know how to count. When he finally returned to the village over a month later his actions were met with both amazement and scorn. An entire month without one of the best hunters had put the village behind its quota for food, but the sheer idea of a White Rend Owl being seen and not eating anyone was a sight to see. Mark began immediately to work with the owl but it was slow progress. The Owl was different from the other birds in a number of ways. He was already as big as Juro was fully grown first off, and Boreas, as he was named, was much more finicky. Boreas would rather hop around the ground ignoring Mark than train. He’d happily take any food Mark tried to train him with before mark even got it ready by jumping and grabbing it out of his hand. It took years, but eventually Boreas began to grow into the most terrible of hunters. Between Mark’s decades of experience and Boreas’ instinct being combined by the totemic bond the two were almost too strong. The hunt began menial and uninteresting. A White Rend taking on a pathetic deer with the guidance of a Harrir hunter was childs play. After making peace with his family he headed to the south seeking a more glorious hunt. His efforts were rewarded with many grand stories and prizes from beasts of all sorts. These trinkets are used as his badge of honor to prove his worth to anyone questioning him, and any remaining disbelief is silenced when he whistles for Boreas. A neutral man with such power was a dangerous thing. While Mark intended to spend his life on a grand hunt there were others who sought to employ his skills. In some cases Mark was happy to help. Villages in need of food, towns stalked by monsters, and such were common tasks he’d fulfill, but as his fame grew kings and noblemen wanted his abilities for less valorous intentions. He refused them all dedicated only to himself and his owl. While his own morality let him help those in need he wasn’t a mercenary. The only higher power he cared for were the forces of nature. With Markiel getting into his forties life was beginning to slow. His hair showed gray, and soon he’d have to end his days on the hunt. The world was breaking into ever greater chaos, and Mark knew he would grow old watching as nature fell to man’s arrogance. He decided that another option must be taken. He treked north beyond the nations, beyond the wilds, and into the unknown. His people’s legends told of a shrine one to an old god one that men scorned. The god was one of balance. He raised and lowered the world sowing and culling life. Man scorned balance in favor of power and left the god. In the frozen void of the north lands Markiel found his shrine and stood before a grand idol made of every material known to man. He fell before it a solemn vow in his heart. To be an Arbiter one who could decide the fate of man as nature would. The ground shook and vines erupted from the floor and grew up the walls. Even in the frozen wastes a garden grew. The Idol was wrapped in vines before crumbling. The plants pulled away revealing a black bladed sword that Mark held aloft. Mark felt magics course through him. [/hider] From here the myths began. In the midst of night a stranger would walk into town a black falchion used as a walking stick. Above him soared a massive owl ever silent. He’d call out to the people that Nature had come for it’s kingdom, and that all who joined it would harvest it’s bounties. This is how the crusade started. Every King sought to expand his land into the wilds while Mark pushed them back. The forces of nature consuming cities in his wake. The lowly people that followed his teachings took to the land living in peace. His acts did not go unnoticed. Kings sent legions after him knights and soldiers by the hundreds. All marched into the wilds never to return. After decades of campaigns to take territory back Mark decided that the Wilds were again at balance in the north. There was a short peace before Mark was needed again. The kings always wanted to try and disturb the balance. Though the wilds were a kingdom for nature it was not the only place it’s power was great. Long ago when the earth was shaped gifts were given to the world for all men to use in times of need. Now corrupted by greed they sought to use them for selfish gains. The legends are numerous. One of his first stories comes from the western coasts. A massive ironwood forest grew there the trees thousands of years old. When the kingdom began to chop them down to build an even larger navy Mark traveled there. Hundreds of men used steel axes to slowly chop away at the ancient woods. It had stood for ages to protect the land keeping it from falling into the sea. The fools didn’t even realize what they did, but for coin they didn’t care. Men began to vanish. When found again they were mauled and their axes gone. One morning all the axes were discovered piled up in the center of the lumber camp and a man standing before them in a long cloak. “You have one chance to leave this land.” He warned, but none took head. A flame fell from the sky and the pile exploded with fire. The man vanished into the smoke as the fire spread and consumed the men and their camp. The Ironwoods ever strong stood while everything else burned. Mark would always return to the wilds. The people there needed him as much as the world did beyond. He was sage and sentinel. A guardian for the people always there to help. He would wander the wilds tending to all his people Boreas’ shadow a blessing rather than an omen. Stories tell of him carrying herbs for all ailments, hunting monsters that plagued the people, and how he was larger than life. None could ever capture Nature’s Arbiter. He plagued kings foolish enough to cross him. In time some accepted his presence and lived in begrudging harmony. Not all accepted the peace though. A cruel warlord came up with a plan to take the wilds and their great bounty for himself. He began to clear forests and dam rivers throughout the lands he ruled and this gained Mark’s attention. The arbiter spent months fighting in the the warlord’s lands. All the while in the north the warlord marched troops into the wilds. When Mark returned he found a grand castle city. The people of the wild were enslaved to work the land around it. Mark refused to let the castle stand. He called to his people and the beasts of the wilds. All sieged the city, but could not break it. It fell to Mark and Boreas alone. The two took to the skies and infiltrated the palace at the center and massacred the warlord’s forces. Soon he came face to face with the bloodthirsty monarch. The two did battle, but neither could take the upper hands. It would not be long before Mark was overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the warlord’s forces. “You seek glory through blood. Then let me grant you the greatest memorial.” Mark thrust his sword into the ground and summoned all the strength his god gave him. The hill upon which the castle was built shook violently. The stones began to crack and fire pour from them. The people of the wilds were safe outside of the city, but all who followed the warlord were trapped inside their impenetrable fort. The sky was black with smoke and all watched as fire poured out and filled the castle. Mark knelt before his sword knowing he had given his very life force to awaken the volcano. Boreas landed besides him and the two were sealed in ash their final vision that of the warlord burning with his empire. The volcano grew into a great mountain and is memorialized not to the warlord, but to Markiel. A man of nature and a man of the people. Hero to the humble, plague to the proud. The wilds have never been the same life is dangerous up there and they find themselves pushed farther north to stay free from the other nations. None forget the arbiter. His presence is always seen in the open free lands, his voice heard in the calls of birds, and his hope in the hearts of all his kin. [img]http://orig11.deviantart.net/48f3/f/2011/208/a/b/divider_by_canzeda-d41w92p.png[/img] A P P E A R A N C E Mark stands at six foot three and maintains a posture like his trained owl leaning forward, but keeping his head up and scanning the area. Unlike his bird his amber eyes are kept as slits focused on one point rather than taking everything in. Mark’s face has particularly sharp features and a rather short bent down nose, possibly caused by a good punch to the face. Adorning his head is a mop of rich brown hair, which he puts into a ponytail when working and leaves be when not. Mark allows facial hair to grow around his chin, but does not maintain a mustache. Mark is built decently well from his multiple career paths. Many a long day spent training his birds as a child gave a great endurance in running after them and an appreciation for being able to climb the trees they’d rest in. His right arm has a large number of scars and scratches on it from all the many birds who decided to test his arm guard’s thickness, as well as a few more from other incidents. Mark wears rather plain clothes most of the time as he’s rarely ever the one to be in close quarters combat if any. Just a Dark brown tunic, pants, and boots. When he’s expecting combat to be involved he will don a simple set of studded leather. What you will almost always see Mark wearing is his falconry gear. Most obvious is the large leather glove on his right arm that extends past his elbow to supply enough area for Boreas’ talons. He keeps anything else he needs in either his satchel, or his bandoleer. Boreas has a mostly white and gray plumage with his wing tips being the darkests and it fading to white as it gets closer to his center. Boreas is a semi-rare species of owl known as a White Rends Owl. They aren’t too uncommon, but live in the more remote areas of the north or atop mountains. They earned their name through their claws terrible ability to rend flesh of anything is pleases. Unlike normal owls who catch a lot of small prey the White Rend Owl is a big game hunter killing deer, caribou, and even moose. It will even take on wolves, cougars, and bears if it thinks it has a chance. With a ten foot wingspan and feet around the size of a human hand, not counting the four inch talons on each of its four toes per foot, the White Rends Owl is highly capable of surprising prey in the dark of night with eight deep incision to the back of the neck in an attempt to grab the spine and break it. Another key evolution of the Rend owl is its ability to fly with wings only out half way. The massive wingspan allows much faster flight, but harms it’s maneuverability in tight quarters. To counter this the Owl has four joints in its wing instead of three. By holding the first section of its limb in it can use the other three like a normal bird would reducing its wingspan to about six foot. All of this is set on a body about the size of a three foot tall barrel. As strange as it seems though Boreas only weighs about twenty five pounds. A normal great horned is only about three for scale. The Myths would have you believe Mark was a beast of a man able to push a tree over with a breath and breaking stones with one hand. Some even made him older and a sort of sage, but they couldn’t be farther from the truth. Boreas is sometimes exaggerated to be the size of a Roc, but again the owl is only about four feet tall. More often than not Mark is depicted as some mysterious man who would arrive from the woods and drive off the wicked before vanishing again. [img]http://orig11.deviantart.net/48f3/f/2011/208/a/b/divider_by_canzeda-d41w92p.png[/img] A B I L I T I E S / E Q U I P M E N T Mark is a master of hunters. He has hunted some of the greatest beasts using only his skill and partner. With this comes a great knowledge of monsters: how to fight them and what can be done with them afterwards being the core of his insight. Many of his belongings are trophies of his hunts. Mark main weapon is his falchion. a long black blade with the elegance of a sword and brute power of an axe. On occasion he has even used it with only one hand, but prefers to use both for the five foot blade. He is trained with many kinds of bows and crossbows as well as knives, but he has not retained any. (He’ll probably pick some up as soon as he can). Receiving the old god’s blessing gave him two main gifts. First was an extended life so that he could not die to the passing of time. This vitality has locked Mark into his prime keeping him as an apex predator among men. The second was to control nature. Through rituals he can commune with nature and command it to his will. Each act has a ritual to scale with it. He can commune with beasts, especially birds, with almost no effort. At the same time he could command a tidal wave, but would require special totems and signs to cause such a thing. The greater the act the harder it is to cause, the rarer the ingredients needed, and the more energy it saps from Mark. As the conduit of the old gods power Mark must channel all the energy needed to cause these events. He can only hold oh so much safely. At great cost to himself, either horrible injury and pain up to death, he can call forth the power without rituals, but the only time used this was at his end when he caused the tremor that awoke the volcano under him. [img]http://orig11.deviantart.net/48f3/f/2011/208/a/b/divider_by_canzeda-d41w92p.png[/img] A G E O F L E G E N D 40,067[/center] [/hider]