[b][color=662d91]Legacy of the Dark Earls Character: [/color]Feraen Dulcimer[/b]

Name: Feraen Dulcimer

Sex: Male

Age: Twenty-Four

[b]Backstory(37,18,4)[/b]: [i]For the vast majority of his--relatively short--life, Feraen has wandered back and forth over the grey line, often venturing for longer periods into "The darkness" than he'd stay in "The light". As a child, a peculiar madness plagued his merchant family -- specifically, the minds of his father and elder brother. One was--as many stated--"...warped, confused, as though it belonged to an abused dog rather than that of a 'man'."; meanwhile, the other had been regarded just the opposite. A kind, innocent soul -- harmless, but forgiving for any he might accidentally incur. The mentalities of the father and the son clashed and eventually culminated in the 'accidental' death of Feraen's elder brother, who was said to have fallen and cracked open his crown on the stone-work roads.

Feraen loathed the man of suspect that tromped about their home, acting as though his first-born had never been, speaking only of "My only son" when addressed on the subject. The broken state of the first gradually wore on the second--all the more helped along by the support of the mother going towards her husband's innocence--until he too snapped, soon becoming cast out of the family--and subsequently cut from all ties with the guild--for his 'unsuccessful' attempt in suffocating the twisted brute in his sleep. Such was the severity of these consequences that--as a matter of precaution--the boy, at the meager age of thirteen, was exiled not just from home and career, but indeed from the very DISTRICT he lived in; and within hours of his disinheritance, the youth was on his own in the outer-most wall, home to peasants and serfs, slaves, beggars and the remainder of those seen 'unfit' to live within the gentle caress of civilized society. 

Four years of working honestly and earning his keep granted the boy a place to stay in the caring home of one such serf-family; who--though poor--worked well and provided plentifully for those kept in their trust. It was during this period that Feraen met Tara, and grew to cherish and admire this wife of the home...and perhaps a bit too much, at that. He never stated such compassions openly, but was eventually undone by his burning desires when--on the night of a particularly good harvest--his hand reached a bit 'too far' towards the woman, who rebuked his drunken passes...which only enraged his loose state of mind. Though the rest was all a garish nightmare during the morning after, he did remember enough to understand how it 'came to be' that said hand went missing over the course of a painfully terrifying night -- replaced instead by a cauterized stump cleansed and wrapped in bandages; and also how--yet again--he found himself outlawed amongst those who'd once been so kind to him. Since then, seven years have crawled past, torturing the agonized beggar-drunk, who seeks the bottle as often as possible in order to escape his pains -- and the rapidly deteriorating inner workings of his mind.[/i]

[b]Description[/b]: [i]Feraen stands at a height of 173 centimeters, with a lean, ragged and tanned frame clothed by torn and faded sack-cloth pants and shirt; both items having clearly been adjusted over the years to fit his growth. His face is covered by a six-o-clock shadow, and his lengthy hair is filled with all manner of terrain mixed a midst dark sepia distinction. He speaks in a rather broken manner, more than likely a byproduct of the many teeth lost to malnourishment and an excessive lack of self-care; and he is also quite incapable of much physical labor as an added result of such a poor diet -- that being of scraps and whatever else he could steal without getting caught and beaten. Ironically, he can now be described in much the same way as his father -- albeit without the family fortune to back any sort of proper care. And--though curious--he is also incredibly quick to anger, seeing it as safer to keep himself distanced from passerby-folk.[/i]

[b]Knowledge/Skills/Equipment[/b]: [i]Also ironically given his state, the young man has become quite adept at sneaking around and--if/when caught--subsequently bolting away from the objects of his desire...namely food and drink. Another given contradiction to his appearance is that he is quite observant--despite his usual, sickly looks--and can recognize danger far faster than others, though this can also lead to a certain paranoia against trusting others. Other than that, he knows and owns little to nothing, concentrating instead on merely 'surviving', despite nature seemingly wanting to be rid of him.[/i]