[hider=Calitan'Viszar'Telrontelios][h1][u][color=A52A2A]C[/color]alitan’[color=A52A2A]V[/color]iszar’[color=A52A2A]T[/color]elrontelios[/u]__ _  _   _    _[/h1]
[img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/cb/65/2d/cb652d0999d942bbe757567ba9c79fbf.jpg[/img]
(for you visual folk, vibing something like this, one eye only)
[sub][h3][u]46[/u]  |  [u]Male[/u]  |  [u]Yasoi[/u]  |  [u]Force and Essence[/u]  |  [u]Dervish[/u]__ _  _   _    _[/h3][/sub]

[sub][h3][u]C H A R A C T E R I S T I C S[/u]__ _  _   _    _[/h3][/sub]
[b][i]What is seen in silver waters?[/i][/b]
A scar puckers from forehead to jaw bone, a trench of red-raw flesh that shortens the left side of his mouth and drags it upwards in a perpetual sneer. Where the wound crosses the left eye, Tetsoi circle its absence in praise. These cover lots of his skin, point out smaller scars, tell a story.

If it is important to you, the remaining eye is orange.

Apart from this, Visz is a typical Yasoi. Perhaps his hair is longer, perhaps the odd way he tilts his head is a quirk of having only one eye, but he also does this at listening parties, when eyes should be shut.

Chains and leather thongs and strips and straps cover pseudo-armour that is much more a weapon, designed to come apart. Browns and greens. The uniform of a Dervish. Around his neck he wears a necklace of pointed ear tips. Count them. There are thirty and four.


[i][b]What moonlight comes through the leaves to show a path unique?[/b][/i]
To collect. To trade. In story and song, Visz wishes to unveil prophecies concerning the return of Vyshta and trade them for the hand and bond of his saviour. And where there is war, stories are valuable, and songs old and new are sung.

That is all. Until a new focus comes.


[b][i]Do your boughs creak?[/i][/b]
Confident and foolhardy, Visz might at times seem a caricature. When it comes to his focus, that is when earnest interest comes forth, and he is most like the him inside his head. Patient, generous, covetous. He likes to listen and recite, but the cheapest way to collect stories is to live them.

[sub][h3][u]B A C K G R O U N D[/u]__ _  _   _    _[/h3][/sub]
Father died on a mushroom binge. Mother was too busy. Lots of time spent running with other children, climbing, stealing from the humans, tipping their cows and sheep, running from them.

Next came his calling: fight until dead or too old to fight. Then would come training children to do the same. Would he make them eat bark and crawl along thorns like his own Ithi’Naa, his mentor? Sometimes he wonders. 

Then death at last.

A champion of Mez’Qaddurat*, Visz never lost a combat. Perhaps he should have seen the writing on the wall, the calling of a new focus, but he did not. In restlessness, complacency grew. It cost him an eye, but his opponent their life. (*a bloodsport where you trade blows and collect ears from your opponents, often taking place at Mette'stiroi)

The festering wound healed and Visz’s life saved by Imri’Tah’Imri, a healer. Their chemistry was instant. It could have been the addled state of his mind, but one night Visz promised the where and when of Vyshta’s return for Imri’s bond. It could have been the addled state of his mind, but he did not back down from these words the next night, nor any night since.

It was, after all, an experience.

[sub][h3][u]I N V E N T O R Y[/u]__ _  _   _    _[/h3][/sub]
A pole with blades and a length of leather and chain at both ends. There are weights and blades upon the chains, and the leather marks break-points, offering a focal point for the Gift if the lengths get tangled and need to be broken.

Slender chains that wrap around his forearms and shins, with a pointed weight upon the end. Whistling knives. Various whips of leather can unravel from the outfit.

The outfit.

A vielle and harp to recite to. They were painted with bioluminescent inks, but they have all but chipped off from years on the road.

The necklace of ears.

Coins. Humans covet these. Actual things can practically be stolen with them.

A journal.

Mixtures for ailments various.

A promise seed to be planted upon the fulfilment of the promise.

[sub][h3][u]T H E   G I F T[/u]__ _  _   _    _[/h3][/sub]
A dervish, he favours Force and Essence, used for explosive offense. A Yasoi, all can be called upon.

In combat their use is forward in the mind, focussed with chanted prayers of Luck to Vyshta. Force to strike blink-quick, to throw knives and make them scream, to become a dervish. Essence to quicken the mind and body, panic others. Arcane might make a strike appear to come a second early, or a second late, or not at all.

In life, it is not so clear. It can craft counter melodies to song and carry his voice, it can nudge emotions, it can heighten and deaden. When stalking he makes no sound at all. How many times has it staved off sleep, or multiplied drink? So many times it is unconscious, as much a part of him as breathing.


[sub][h3][u]S T R E N G T H S   &   S K I L L S[/u]__ _  _   _    _[/h3][/sub]
❖ A memory and mind for story and song
❖ Iron will
❖ Not opposed to the idea of humans entirely
❖ Survival

[sub][h3][u]W E A K N E S S E S   &   F L A W S[/u]__ _  _   _    _[/h3][/sub]
❖ Unempathetic when empathy does not stand to gain. At that point it is fifty-fifty
❖ Single-Minded
❖ Delusions of Grandeur
❖ Depth Perception
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