Post by ladymoth on Nov 22, 2010 21:48:06 GMT -5
<-- Burn Gorman, Kinda.Name: Oren Taran
Age: 376
Race: Elf
Occupation: Spellweaver / vagabond
Allegiance: Riders
Physical Description: Gangly, spider-limbed, scare-crowesk, slouched over, five foot and six inch tall, diminutive elf. His raggedy clothes hang loose off his thin frame. Around his waist he wears a belt with several small satchels and draw strings, and a bag packed full of papers. Oh, and he’s been working for several hundreds of years to get his dragon features down pat. Both his skin and his hair are slightly green in hue. His body for the most part is covered in scales; save for his face, palms, and other such places. His teeth grow in sharp, and his eyes are reptilian; though he can’t seem to turn them green. Aside from the obvious features he had a rather frog like mouth, an upturned nose, and a short face. His eyes are mad looking, and it’s not just because of his reptilian eyes; though those aren’t winning him any favors, the eyes are surrounded by dark circles, as if he hasn’t slept in weeks. He stands and moves with a slouch, but with purpose, like a cat that darts around in dark alley ways. His voice is surprisingly authoritative, but his speech is lazy, sometimes combining words; unless it’s a spell, in which case his diction is proper.
Personality: Though it doesn’t make any sense to anyone, himself included, he’s a misanthrope who craves attention. If people aren’t hanging off his every word then he’s not having a good day. He doesn’t care whether it’s good attention or bad attention, he’ll accept it all. He goes out of his way to say outlandish things, just to draw people into the air around him. He has no problem with acting like a jerk; it comes quite naturally to him. People will tolerate him because he has a way with spell weaving; which is the only vice of his that competes with his need for attention. Often times he draws away from people because he needs to write down a new phrasing of words that just came into his head.
History: His parents raised him until he was twelve, then he lived with the riders apprenticing under the master spellweaver to learn the tricks of the trade. His master spent equal parts of his time in Ilirea and travelling; spellweaveing being a nomadic trade. While Oren did love writing his true passions have all ways been with the natural world. He loves going inside the minds of animals, sometimes all morning. When his master died his continued his travels alone until he fell love with a dragon rider; after which he practiced his skills solely in Ilirea, even though Spellweavers are not meant to stay in the same place for so long. To make up for the lack of inspiration he was getting from the stagnant environment he began to study the dragons in earnest, becoming enticed by their brand of natural magic. This is where Oren spent most of his history, honing his skills, and starting a family. It all went away after the final battle of the last war; when his mate died. He left Ilirea and his children with the riders and disappeared into Du Weldenvarden; where he’s been traveling for the last fourty years. He changed his appearance for two reasons; the first of which is to never forget what he’s lost, and the second is to advertise his Spellweaving; the better his transformation, the more customers.
