Character Details:
Name: De'yaego
Age: 18
Appearance: Standing at 6ft 2in and built thickly, here's a young man who was fed well but lifted a lot of heavy stuff in his life. Warm brown skin, large brown eyes with a dreamy stare, and a scruffy beard immediately stand out about his face. He's kept his hair oiled and protected by styling it into dread-locks, as the rest of his family has done, and has only once had to cut them, in all his life, after an unfortunate encounter with a fireball. He has the full lips and regal nose of his heroic lineage-- as his elders say. Still, despite being on the cusp of adulthood, he's still got the youthful features of a young man-- often having guesses at his age aimed downward. As is tradition, he's had his canine teeth plated in gold, via a very secret and painful method-- such is the symbol of his lineage, as they emulate their ancestral heroes, and the tales speak of the warrior with "golden fangs"-- the symbol of the warrior which he bares.
Personality: Well this guy thinks he's in charge all the time. Sure, he's certainly a responsible and honest sort, but why must he insist on taking care of everyone, taking charge of the situation, or issuing out orders as if he were the King? This is a bossy fellow but in an oddly mellow way. He maintains a cool-headed exterior, sometimes even icy, even when demanding attention-- which he often does so by lowering his voice and gesturing sternly. A lot of his emotions aren't spoken of but they do show on his face. Deep sighs and head shakes accent the fact that he thinks he's always right and that everyone else should just do as he says. He can be so straightforward and honest that his bluntness boarders on rudeness. There's a stubborn streak in him and more than a few cultural oddities-- such as solving arguments with your fists and baring your teeth as a sign of hostility.
Background: Out on the fringes of society, in a tiny coastal village, to the north of the E'lyzabeth islands, there is a very small clan of warriors made of fifteen families, that claim to be descendants of a "Grand Band of Heroes". Wither or not this is true, they live as another nameless village, with lands barely claimed or owned, in huts made of rubble and metal. Here they live off the land as best they can, mostly subsisting on hunting and gathering, while scavenging from what's left of the world before, to fashion weapons and armor.
They keep strong the traditional fighting styles and skills of their ancestors-- being something of a village of warriors as a result. Families that carry the ancestral blood of the heroes emulate them as a means of paying tribute physically. As a result, many of the villagers have golden "fangs", the cross chest scar, the white streaked hair, and other cultural signifiers. It was in this village that De'yaego was born.
This is a boy that was the oldest of his siblings and forced to grow up too fast. His Mother raised him as brutally as his mother before her-- as she hailed from the lineage of some Great Hero and the techniques they used demanded passing down. There was a brutal balance in her style of care. For every beating he received, there was equivalent care-- for every missed meal as punishment, there was a feast. De'yaego grew up helping raise his siblings as well, as his mother was very busy, outside of training him, and it often left him and his aunt and second mother to care for the children. Oh, his father? Dead before he met him. Each of his siblings is only half-- the four of them having four completely different fathers but the same mother.
And all of them having dead fathers.
As is the tradition of their somewhat forgotten village, new fathers embark on a lonely sail, out into the sea which crashes upon their cliffside village. While many return, the journey must be taken upon the birth of the child, even if the weather swells the waves and cracks the skies. De'yaego figures it was some sort of curse. The fathers of his friends returned-- but whenever any of his siblings were born, winds howled and thunder boomed, which forced their fathers into mosfortune.
When his mother sent him away on his eighteenth birthday, he didn't question it, and knows he can never return. His mother made that
abundantly clear. Through his life there were others which left the village-- those born to the "true lineage," that he never saw again. Oral tradition often spoke of it in song and dance-- how the fabled warriors were exiled by the elders. Were it not for the exile, say the tales, those heroes never would have awakened to their true destiny. As is believed by the elders, certain children have a sacred "spirit reading" conducted at birth, wherein which their exile is predetermined, and known only to the parents, until the day comes. Such is the burden which De'yaego was born into-- a fact that was purposefully hidden from him up until this point.
It's been a few days since then and naturally he misses his home and his family quite dearly, though he keeps his composure, and hides the sound of his rumbling stomach very well.
Skills: Hammer/Mace/Club Proficiency + Hand-to-Hand Proficiency + Stand Your Ground-ism De'yaego can take a punch, grit his teeth through pain, and stand his ground probably a good deal firmer than most young men his age. His knuckles, hand, and feet are calloused for his fighting style is brutal, made for killing by any means, and his training matched. He will not run or turn his back to his opponent unless he's dead set on saving his life for
next time. The fighting style consists of very close range attacks, grapples, knees, kicks, and lots of nasty "unsportsmanlike" moves-- he will absolutely bite someone's face and gouge their eyes out if necessary.
Free Climbing The village he hails from is full of ruins, caves, holes, and cliffs, which gives him some skill when approaching climbable objects. Though he's not the most agile, he's got some bravery, and can leap and bound without much regard for heights. All of his climbing skills is without gear and he definitely doesn't know how to use much other than a rope-- but even then he'd rather just climb using his hands and feet.
Gear: Traveling Pack: Hunting Knife, Canteen, flint and steel, dried fish/squid, oatmeal.
Worn: Rusted Steel Bludgeon, trench-coat with hood, fighter's hand-wraps, shade-lens goggles, a very green gold chain necklace, dirty cargo-pants, and thick leather boots. That's right. He's not wearing a
shirt.
Misc.: He can lift 280lbs at max but can't run very well
at all. It's not that he lacks the stamina, it's simply that he lacks the speed. So focused on fighting and lifting that, as they say,
"All gains and no cardio etc. etc...". With that in mind, it's no wonder that he absolutely cannot read. He was training to be a warrior and no part of that involved reading, learning more than about how to hurt and kill people effectively, and how to properly treat his own wounds. He can't cook other than charring the meat over an open flame and only has a slight knowledge of edible berries and mushrooms.
Eidolon Details:
Name: Craigerius -- The Molten Core of Shol
Craig for short but don't say that too loud, they're sensitive. Appearance: Tremble in fear and wail in terror mortal, for Craigerius The Molten Core of Shol, has arrived! Run as it summons volcanoes with a single stomp-- scream as streams of magma burst from the ground TO BURN ALL WHO STAND BEFORE IT! Which would be impressive if it was larger than knee height.
Abilities:Luckily(?) fire's dangerous even if it's small... Volcanic Stomp/Molten Rock Control -- With a single stomp of their tiny foot-nub, a 1ft tall volcano emerges from the ground, and erupts violently with smoke and lava, setting up the point from which a lot of abilities are cast. Craigerius has full control over molten rock but the rock must be molten first. They can melt other rocks down but it's just easier to use the tiny volcano. One can see how this could quickly get out of hand if large quantities of molten rock are formed or if, you know, you're in a
library combination rug and dry wood store. That said, the control over the molten rock is difficult and takes a lot of stamina and concentration-- while a large quantity can be controlled, it gets more difficult as the amount goes up. A bucket of lava is all fun and games but a silo? Difficult!
And who even stores lava in a silo?Rather notably, Craigerius and De'yaego don't work together very well-- the Eidolon having taking a liking to him but De'yaego seeing it as a bothersome creature that doesn't follow instructions. The two couldn't be more alike. De'yaego met Craigerius only a month ago-- the creature having found him and insisted on following him. Their communication has a definite barrier as Craigerius' speech comes out as sputters, hisses, and clicks to the untrained ear. Other Eidolons understand Craigerius' communication without effort and seem to be rather nervous about whatever they ramble about. Luckily, it seems the "Stupid Giant" has no idea what Craig is saying. For now.
Atrophy
