Post by shadin on Mar 15, 2011 13:45:05 GMT -5
Name: Shadin Arget-laufsbläd
Age: 78
Race: Elven
Occupation: Shadin has recently finished his magical training at Ilirea. As such he has not chosen a profession.
Allegiance: Having spent the majority of his life away from his race he has sworn fealty to none.
Physical Description: Shadin is just over 6 feet tall. While still slight by human standards, he is exceptionally heavy built for an elf. Thick through the limbs and chest he is far stronger than any mortal man, and among the physically strongest of his race. Though he is able to lift greater stones than many of his elven fellows, his bulk slows him making him not so fleet of foot or quick of limb. He was born with bright hair and eyes as was the normal of his family. Blonde as starlight he was an almost exact duplicate of his parents and their ancestors before them. Though Shadin's parents and other family members were content with their platinum hair and bright eyes, Shadin was not. A short ten years after reaching Ilrea he magicked his hair dark as a raven's wing and his irises grey like a coming storm. No longer content with his almost luminous skin he willed it to be tan like the few humans he encountered. Finding pleasure in this form he made only minor changes to his skin tone to match the way a human's changes with the seasons.
Personality: Shadin has many of the the hallmark traits of his race. He is quiet in speech and not prone to swings in mood. He speaks mostly in questions giving little indication of his feelings about the answer. While he would not change places with his short lived counterparts he does find them more interesting than most of his race and much of the time prefers their company rather than that of his own race. He likes their rash, hurried ways and is jealous of their quick and powerful emotions. Shadin likes to spend his time among them, enjoying their companionship, though not engaging in their ways.
While he has completed his training in magic he prefers to do his tasks by the sweat of his brow rather than through magic. He is certainly a capable magician, however far from the most skilled. He had no patience for the slow grind of his magical education preferring to spend his time outdoors. He has a particular love for swordplay and revels in the flowing grace and combative nature of it. He excels at the use of a blade, but is far from invincible.
History: Shadin's life was nothing spectacular among his race. He lived until he was 25 in he hall of his parents. The shady expanses of Du Weldenvarden were his home. He never considered anything else. It was not until he left for Ilirea that he counted his life as starting.
The trip was his first time away from his home, his first time meeting members of another race. The humans constantly kept him guessing, trying to understand their seemingly random, almost manic behavior. The humans, few that he saw, captivated him. They way they lived their lives, trying to get all the meaning out of a life in sixty years that an elf would gain in two hundred.
The dragons fascinated. Even the youngest of their race had ancient thoughts that, much older than even the elves. Yet their emotions and mannerisms were much more like the humans.
He learned swiftly that the deserved far more respect than the humans however. In the third year since he left his home he had grown too comfortable with the ancient minds of the dragons around them. In a foolish moment with an angered dragon he paid the price of his right ring finger. It would have been his hand had he not had the inherent quickness of an elf. His teachers inspected the wound, and found it insufficient to interfere with his studies. They demanded that the wound be allowed to heal at the natural pace and that the finger not be healed.
He never made such a mistake again. Shadin learned the lesson and from that moment on shied away from the dragons, but admired them from a distance. Instead he focused his immediate attention on the humans.
Shadin was not particularly diligent in his studies. Magic was not his passion, nor was it his interest, however he knew he must complete his education before possibly moving forward in his life. None the less he still completed his studies taking only an additional three years beyond the normal.
Roleplaying Sample: Shadin flexed his right hand slowly, focusing on the ring finger that he had recently regrown. In his third year at Ilirea he had been somewhat too forward with an honored dragon, and was taught a lesson by the loss of the finger. His teachers had decreed that he should bear the wound for the rest of his education there. Having only recently finished his magical learning he was finally allowed to fix his deformity. He was at first conflicted. He had lived without the finger for so long and had grown accustomed to not having it. He ultimately decided to fix his nonconformity.
He slowly gripped the hilt of his blade arranging the still unfamiliar pattern of his fingers on the leather. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils and focused on his opponent. The blonde elf, Vangar, had proven himself a match for Shadin in the past. While Shadin's bade had abnormal strength of the elf behind it, Vangar's whistled malice as he swung it through the air.
"Now."
Shadin's voice was quiet but the other elf had clearly heard it. They both sprung across the thirty foot divide between them, their blades ringing their conflict in mid air. Each flowed like water through graceful forms. Their blades rang out against each other singing the song of the battle. So far neither elf could gain an advantage over the other, but Shadin knew that if the fight lasted too long the lighter faster elf would win...again.
He redoubled is vigor trying to subdue the blonde, but it was to no avail, and it was not long before Vangar kicked him in the chest and knocked him to the ground and put a point to his throat.
"You know, of we were not just sparring I would have taken you." Shadin panted as he relaxed upon the grass.
"Of that I have no doubt." Vangar chuckled. "Race you back to the tower?"
Shadin snorted "No, no fun you always win."
"Only because you run like an urgal."
Age: 78
Race: Elven
Occupation: Shadin has recently finished his magical training at Ilirea. As such he has not chosen a profession.
Allegiance: Having spent the majority of his life away from his race he has sworn fealty to none.
Physical Description: Shadin is just over 6 feet tall. While still slight by human standards, he is exceptionally heavy built for an elf. Thick through the limbs and chest he is far stronger than any mortal man, and among the physically strongest of his race. Though he is able to lift greater stones than many of his elven fellows, his bulk slows him making him not so fleet of foot or quick of limb. He was born with bright hair and eyes as was the normal of his family. Blonde as starlight he was an almost exact duplicate of his parents and their ancestors before them. Though Shadin's parents and other family members were content with their platinum hair and bright eyes, Shadin was not. A short ten years after reaching Ilrea he magicked his hair dark as a raven's wing and his irises grey like a coming storm. No longer content with his almost luminous skin he willed it to be tan like the few humans he encountered. Finding pleasure in this form he made only minor changes to his skin tone to match the way a human's changes with the seasons.
Personality: Shadin has many of the the hallmark traits of his race. He is quiet in speech and not prone to swings in mood. He speaks mostly in questions giving little indication of his feelings about the answer. While he would not change places with his short lived counterparts he does find them more interesting than most of his race and much of the time prefers their company rather than that of his own race. He likes their rash, hurried ways and is jealous of their quick and powerful emotions. Shadin likes to spend his time among them, enjoying their companionship, though not engaging in their ways.
While he has completed his training in magic he prefers to do his tasks by the sweat of his brow rather than through magic. He is certainly a capable magician, however far from the most skilled. He had no patience for the slow grind of his magical education preferring to spend his time outdoors. He has a particular love for swordplay and revels in the flowing grace and combative nature of it. He excels at the use of a blade, but is far from invincible.
History: Shadin's life was nothing spectacular among his race. He lived until he was 25 in he hall of his parents. The shady expanses of Du Weldenvarden were his home. He never considered anything else. It was not until he left for Ilirea that he counted his life as starting.
The trip was his first time away from his home, his first time meeting members of another race. The humans constantly kept him guessing, trying to understand their seemingly random, almost manic behavior. The humans, few that he saw, captivated him. They way they lived their lives, trying to get all the meaning out of a life in sixty years that an elf would gain in two hundred.
The dragons fascinated. Even the youngest of their race had ancient thoughts that, much older than even the elves. Yet their emotions and mannerisms were much more like the humans.
He learned swiftly that the deserved far more respect than the humans however. In the third year since he left his home he had grown too comfortable with the ancient minds of the dragons around them. In a foolish moment with an angered dragon he paid the price of his right ring finger. It would have been his hand had he not had the inherent quickness of an elf. His teachers inspected the wound, and found it insufficient to interfere with his studies. They demanded that the wound be allowed to heal at the natural pace and that the finger not be healed.
He never made such a mistake again. Shadin learned the lesson and from that moment on shied away from the dragons, but admired them from a distance. Instead he focused his immediate attention on the humans.
Shadin was not particularly diligent in his studies. Magic was not his passion, nor was it his interest, however he knew he must complete his education before possibly moving forward in his life. None the less he still completed his studies taking only an additional three years beyond the normal.
Roleplaying Sample: Shadin flexed his right hand slowly, focusing on the ring finger that he had recently regrown. In his third year at Ilirea he had been somewhat too forward with an honored dragon, and was taught a lesson by the loss of the finger. His teachers had decreed that he should bear the wound for the rest of his education there. Having only recently finished his magical learning he was finally allowed to fix his deformity. He was at first conflicted. He had lived without the finger for so long and had grown accustomed to not having it. He ultimately decided to fix his nonconformity.
He slowly gripped the hilt of his blade arranging the still unfamiliar pattern of his fingers on the leather. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils and focused on his opponent. The blonde elf, Vangar, had proven himself a match for Shadin in the past. While Shadin's bade had abnormal strength of the elf behind it, Vangar's whistled malice as he swung it through the air.
"Now."
Shadin's voice was quiet but the other elf had clearly heard it. They both sprung across the thirty foot divide between them, their blades ringing their conflict in mid air. Each flowed like water through graceful forms. Their blades rang out against each other singing the song of the battle. So far neither elf could gain an advantage over the other, but Shadin knew that if the fight lasted too long the lighter faster elf would win...again.
He redoubled is vigor trying to subdue the blonde, but it was to no avail, and it was not long before Vangar kicked him in the chest and knocked him to the ground and put a point to his throat.
"You know, of we were not just sparring I would have taken you." Shadin panted as he relaxed upon the grass.
"Of that I have no doubt." Vangar chuckled. "Race you back to the tower?"
Shadin snorted "No, no fun you always win."
"Only because you run like an urgal."
