Here he is.Einarr
"In the north the only person you can rely on is yourself."
Origin: Weirn - The City of Normundr.
Personality: Einarr is a very stubborn and gruff person who prefers to rely on his own skills and abilities rather than those around him.
While his lone wolf and mostly antisocial behaviour was only made stronger by his time as a Ranger in the service of King Hagrir, during which Einarr spent most of his time alone while out on long distance scouting or hunting missions into the surrounding hills and forests, it can be traced all the way back to when he was a child living in the city slums where he had no one else to rely on but himself to provide food, shelter, clothing, and water.
Despite all of his self reliance and complete lack of a desire for social interaction with most people, Einarr has one trait that had always and will always remain engrained within him, and that is loyalty. Indeed Einarr is loyal to a fault and once carried a fellow Ranger who was fatally wounded back to Normundr, through a blizzard, by himself, simply because the man wanted to be buried with his ancestors and not in an unmarked grave out in the wilds. Upon returning to the city, the King made sure the Ranger was given a proper buriel before personally rewarding Einarr for his deed by giving him a sword from his personal armory.
History: Abandoned by his parents when he was a child, Einarr was forced to live out on the streets, stealing and fighting off the other homeless children to survive. While there were a few people who showed him compassion by giving him food, clothing, water, or a place to stay in exchange for work they needed done, most of the time he was ignored and left to fend for himself.
As he grew older, he became more and more desperate to survive in the frozen, inescapable hell he constantly found himself in by breaking into other peoples homes to look for food or to find a warm place to sleep for the night, not knowing that this habit would eventually see him crossing paths with a man that would change his life forever.
Veteran Ranger Bruin Stormblade.
~Twenty Years Ago~
It was on a particularly cold winter night that a young Einarr was trying, and failing, to get a restful night's sleep under the snow covered awning of a nearby bakery, the freezing snow filled air tearing at his ragged clothing and the cold flesh underneath. Lifting up his head, Einarr saw what he thought was a well to do man clad in chain mail, leather, and furs armed with a bow, axe, and round shield walk past the bakery he was sleeping next to and off towards the more well off part of town. Well, more well off than the slums he was accustomed to living in anyway.
Smiling to himself, Einarr got to his feet and began to follow the man, keeping just far back enough to avoid rousing his suspicions, until he saw the man arrive at a small but modest home, open the door, and go inside. Doing his best not to shiver from the cold Einarr quietly made his way round to the back of the house, unlocked a first floor window, and slipped inside. The interior of the house was dark which caused the boy to fumble around for a bit in search of a candle or other source of light when the feeling of a sharp object brushing up against his throat stopped him from moving any further.
"Don't you know it's not wise to sneak into someones house unannounced boy?" A gruff voice said from somewhere in front of him. Einarr felt his blood run cold at the man's mention of the word "boy." How did this man know he was a boy unless...
"What?" The man said with a chuckle. "Did you really think you'd be able to follow a Ranger and break into his house without him noticing?" With those words Einarr heard the man mutter something which caused a flame to materialize in the palm of his right hand. Stretching out his hand to a nearby wall the man uttered another chant and the flame surged towards it, causing a torch mounted there to ignite and bathe the small room in a flickering orange light.
Now that he could see better, Einarr's eyes went wide in shock and fear as he finally got a good look at the bear of a man holding the sword to his throat. He had long raven black hair that reached his shoulders, a thick beard tied in a braid, and a heavily scared face that made it seem as though he'd been mauled by a bear. Seeing the look on the boy's face, the man let out another, more amused chuckle, as he withdrew the blade and placed it back into its sheathe. He then walked over to a nearby chair and sat down in it before pulling out a wooden pipe from a pouch on his belt, placing some tobacco into it, and lighting it.
"Y-you're not going to kill me?" Einarr asked, his voice breaking slightly.
"Now what would that accomplish?" The man asked as he took a long draw from the pipe before exhaling a large cloud of smoke. "You'd be dead and I'd have a mess to clean up."
"Then...what are you going to do?" Einarr asked, the apprehension he felt written plainly on his face.
"I'm going to give you a choice." He said, leaning forward slightly. "You can try to steal from me and run like you originally planned and try to live your life on the streets..." He said, indicating the open window with his pipe. "Or you can become my apprentice and train to become a Ranger in service of the King and do something productive with your life."
Einarr stared at him for a while, his mouth hung open in shock. First he'd thought he was going to die and now he was being offered a chance to have a life far better than the one he had now. Effectively a fresh start. Thinking it over for a long while, Einarr finally made up his mind.
"Alright." He said, standing up a bit straighter. "I'll train under you sir...um..."
"Stormblade. Bruin Stormblade." He said, taking another draw from his pipe.
Einarr nodded in acknowledgement and dropped to one knee. "Sir Stormblade."
"Eh, get up boy. Bowing is only done before those spineless nobles or our King, of which I'm neither. Now, I've told you my name, how about yours? You got a name boy?"
"Einarr." He said, getting to his feet.
"Well Einarr..." Bruin said as he got up from his chair and walked over to Einarr. "I suggest you get some sleep. We've got a lot of work ahead of us."
Einarr pulled the fur hood he was wearing further down his head to keep out the bone chilling mountain wind that whipped across face as the carriage he was currently seated in rattled and creaked as it slowly made its way up the narrow path leading through the Ghenna Mountains, the team of horses at its front kicking up clouds of snow with every step they took.
Looking off into the distance he could see the imposing form of the Orders mountain stronghold rising up from the surrounding mist and clouds like the carcass of some long dead beast left over from ages that have long since been forgotten by man and elf alike.
Prying his gaze from the towering structure, Einarr turned his attention back to the letter clutched in his hand. The reason he was even here in the first place. He stared at the damned thing for a long while before tossing it over the side of the carriage. He didn't even have to read it in order to know what it was. To know what it said.
It was a letter of banishment from King Hagrir himself for so called treason against the crown, which was a load of bullshit. Einarr knew he'd done nothing wrong and so had the King, but he was forced to bend to the will of the nobles at the time which is what had led him to where he was now. Freezing his ass off in a rickety old carriage on the side of a mountain.
Letting out an exhausted sigh, Einarr turned his gaze back towards the oncoming keep, a look of stubborn determination on his face. He may have been exiled from his homeland by his enemies and stripped of his official title as a Kings Ranger, but he'd be damned if he let them break his spirit.
- King Hagrir - Acquaintance.
- Bruin Stormblade - Seen as an adoptive father.
- Hand-to-hand/Melee Combat.
- Survival (includes a bit of first aid, herbalism, etc).
- Crafting (weapons and armor as well as the repair of said items).
- Pyromancy - Apprentice (Attuned and trained as a member of Hagrirs Rangers).
- Leather pouch containing 125 pieces of gold.
- A small dagger.
- Good quality steel longsword from the Kings personal armory.
- Dependable steel hand axe.
- Hunting bow.
- Reinforced leather armor with furs woven into it for warmth.
- A large over the shoulder animal skin pack containing flint, tinder, a bedroll, some rope, food, and a water skin.
Looks good, feel free to move him over.
I wanted to get this done before the end of the day so I might have rushed over some mistakes that I can fix tommorow, but past that if
theres any problems with him please let me know!Seiritif Neklan
Care to make a bet?
Origin: No specific orgin due to traveling but whas briefly raised in the outskirts of Asha
Appearance: Seiritif proves to be relatively handsome, that is if one can look past his abnormalities. Standing tall and fit at a large 6’2, with a navy-blue skin tone which sharply contrast his red fiery eyes, all of which makes the Tiefling impossible to miss in a crowd. His slightly wavy black and brown hair barely bobs above his shoulders, often being tied behind his head in a small bun keeping it from blocking his vision. His face is seemingly cleansed of blemishes except for a old faded scare sliced diagonally across his high-rise cheek bones acting as a cursed memory of his old guardian. His tail swooshes behind him being rather thick for even that of a Tiefling, it has grown pock marked with scares from years of traveling on the road, having become the only part of him he doesn’t make an active attempt to make presentable, but rather having it swept idly behind him keeping it away from any kind of attention.
The Tiefling has always has been one to care passionately about his outward appearance, having put forward a large sum to get custom made jewelry that he wears to embellish his horns, making no attempt to hide his Tiefling heritage. Having grown a natural affinity for the colors purple and red through the colors being a part of his old show, the blue Tiefling rapidly grew an attachment to them wearing the colors as frequently as possible. Although due to his current predicament he’s been forced too relinquish many of his old clothes and trinkets he once grew so fond of in his past as they quickly became irelivant for the journey ahead of him now.
Personality: Tieflings tend to be considered some kind of mysterious boogey men that are passed as old wives tales to keep their children in bed, and Seiritif embraced all of it. Having join the circus and forgoing any past he had before that he has grown accustomed to being the center of attention, radiating extravagance and arrogance the Tiefling holds himself high no matter who may be mocking him for his race. Seiritif has been noted multiple times to hold those he calls friends closely, as for a Tiefling such as himself he's found that allies come few and far between. Despite all of this he has always had an air of kindness and wits to the man.
Ever since he joined the circus Seiritif began relying heavily on his silver tongue that he once used to manipulate his old guardian with. Being capable of making elaborate made up stories on the spot alongside with his dexterous hands the Tiefling has managed to get himself in and out of trouble multiple times, but all it takes is messing with the wrong person for it all to come tumbling down.History: Seiritif's upbringing was anything but a gentle one. With having no memory of who his true parents were, or any knowledge of what happened to them. Rather he was raised by an old senile necromancer who believed that by raising a devil child he could be granted a wish from a demon without knowing how wrong he could be. Being raised by the old man was a hard time for the child as he was subjected to both his diluted mood swings and being stuck within a house cut off from the outside world. Although once he turned 17 Seiritif left the only place he's ever known to search out for something better for himself. Grabbing as many supplies he could, he made a run for it. With only two mementos from the old man upon his departure, one being his ability of manipulating the very air everyone breathes, and a newly placed gash upon his left cheek.
To be on his own after living a relatively sheltered life from the outside world; 17-year-old Seiritif was not in any way prepared for the trials that lie ahead. Facing fear and disdain from his mere existence Seiritif quickly turned to becoming a criminal, using and manipulating his Aeromancy to get away with things no man in his situation should have been able to get away with for how little he knew. Unfortunately for him this streak of crime could only could get him so far in the cities of Ashae as he was found and almost killed. Seirtif left the cities travelling onto the long dirt roads in search of any place he could call a home.
luck finally began to take a turn, as the Philip Astely Traveling Circus found him lying on his would-be death bed in the middle of the road. It was there from the generosity of the ring master Seiritif lived on. And it was here that he found a group of outcasts, misfits, and those of interesting skills that a blue skinned tiefling could call his home. Adding another misfit to the ranks Seiritif quickly bound himself to the role of the "Devil of the Circus" and along with it the circuses fame skyrocketed. As it was not every day people are able to witness a tiefling, and with his acts he played on the fear and the veil of mystery that surrounded his race to keep people constantly on the edge of their seats, creating an illusion of risk and danger when there was never any to begin with. The circus, suffice to say hit a home run by adopting the blue skinned man.
As traveling with the circus rapidly became his new home, for the first time in his life he found a place he belonged. Seiritif spent most of his spare time in-between shows sitting at a table on the edge of the circus ground, as traversing out alone tended to be a risky endeavor as the sight of a Tiefling to many people has mixed results. At his table he took on any passerby who felt they had the luck and courage to gamble against the Tiefling, and it was there he sat using Aeromancy to game dice rolls or stacking decks of cards into his favor; he was one to rarely lose. But all it took was gambling with the wrong person at the wrong time for things to turn violent. Miscalculation both his own strength and a miss cast of a spell lead to an unconscious man bleeding at his feet. Not even being capable of saying his goodbyes before he was taken away.
He wasnt even capable of saying goodbye to those who saved him before he was locked up in a cell, his normal demeanor quickly fell apart within the sell having been set for execution. Laying in a poorly made cot in a cell, the iron gates of hell creaked open,
"Finally time to take me away? Or are you just here to gawk at a teifling."
"neither, it took some convincing but your sentence has been apealed." the man standing tall above him replied, his expression excedingly hard to read.
The Tiefling let out a sartonic chuckle out in response. "So fate still got something planed for me then, eh?"
- Throwing weapons (From the circus)
- Slight of hand
- Sword play
- Mild survival skills (From the order)
Magic: Aeromancy: novice
- Rations to last him a week
- 6 throwing knives atached onto his belt
- wet stone and oils for weapon upkeep
- sleeping kot
- An old but well kept Falchion
- Water skin
He seems like he'll be an interesting character and the first Aeormancer to boot. Feel free to move him over.