Post by elvishbanana on Jul 4, 2011 16:03:06 GMT -5
Working on a picture, will be up shortly!
Name: Locien Avariernil (Loh-shien Ah-vahr-ee-air-nil)
Age: 119 (looks 25 or so)
Race: Elf
Occupation: Ambassador, ex-army captain, noble
Allegiance: Du Weldenvarden
Physical Description: Olive-skinned and dark haired, Locien’s rugged looks and untouchable air make him something of a challenge to the elven girls around Ellesméra. His nose was broken in an Urgal fight and is slightly bent, but not very noticeably. Locien’s eyes are a very dark brown with gold streaks here and there, and look black in most lights except for full sunlight. The gold streaks come out more often, only fully vanishing in complete darkness. Locien’s chin has a slight cleft, and his forehead also has an old scar, another memento of battle. His hair is very dark brown, nearly black, and Locien differs from most elven men in that he dislikes shaving. While in Ellesméra (and on display), Locien keeps his face clean-shaven, but outside of his parent’s view, he disregards his razor. His hair he keeps long, a few inches past his chin, and outside of Ellesméra, he doesn’t bother tying it back.
Locien’s choice of clothes is slightly more ordinary for his place in life. He wears dark brown trousers and an off-white shirt on his own time, the sleeves and collar wide. But even when casual, Locien can’t help keeping a few pieces of armor on. His arm guards are hardened leather, and he constantly wears a similar vest, separate pieces overlapping like light armor. When “on display” in Du Weldenvarden, Locien wears the same styles, but in black, and at the orders of his mother, with gold embossed on. Locien’s armor is weathered and well-used, with parts replaced as needed, and never the whole suit. Locien uses a shirt of chain mail underneath a plate tunic, with shoulders, elbows to wrists, and legs covered by whole pieces. The chain mail has a hood and a collar that covers the neck of his plate armor. Locien’s shield, a circular one with his family’s coat of arms (a gold oak tree with three black stars on the trunk) straps onto his arm during battle and hangs on his back with a thick leather strap. His sword, having been in vigorous use for the past seventy-three years, has finally given way to old age and overuse, and Locien will need a new one.
Whether in armor or out, Locien wears a very dark green cloak. This cloak is a vital part of another of Locien’s outfits- the Guardian. (see History for details on the Guardian). The cloak, along with black clothes, boots, and a black wooden half-mask, completes the Guardian regalia. Locien pulls a black handkerchief over his mouth to hide the lower half of his face, usually going silent as well.
Personality:A born soldier, command is in Locien’s nature. He has a cool head in battle, and a gift for strategy and tactics. Loyal to a fault, Locien ranks his friends above all others, ready to sacrifice everything to save those he cares about. He is generous, though only to the less fortunate. (His exploits as the Guardian helped many poorer elves). Locien is impatient with many things; books, magic, politics, religion, and his family are some of the more prominent. While in school, Locien spent most of his time training to become a warrior, instead of learning history and magic like he was expected. His brilliance at strategy could have made him a skilled player at the Game, but Locien has long loathed the selfishness and arrogance displayed by the rich and powerful in Ellesméra high society. Far from being virtuous, however, Locien is impatient, short-tempered, rather arrogant himself, and highly suspicious of anything or anyone he doesn’t know. He does not trust easily, and has an in-born dislike of humans. He respects dwarves for their skills with metal, but other than that, is very prejudiced against any non-elves.
Locien hides his generosity and loyalty behind a gruff mask, pretending to be a brusque, burly commander. To glimpse Locien’s true nature is a rare thing indeed. He has little interest in women, though his untouchable air and rugged good looks mean that the feeling isn’t mutual. Locien takes women seriously- his time in the army and his childhood teachers have taught him that women warriors are not to be taken lightly. Thus he has little romantic interest in tough women, having more of a soft spot for more delicate girls.
Locien has a weak spot for horses and hounds, spending his family’s money on the two as well as armor. He acts more like a child around horses, his excitement over horseflesh revealing his boyish nature. Where hounds are concerned, Locien pretends not to like them in public, but can be caught playing with them from time to time. However, hounds, horses, and armor aren’t the only things Locien cares for; he has a secret love of drawing. Locien’s sketches are hidden, kept secret from everyone, even Eliam. His subject matter goes from horses and knights in armor to more delicate things- children playing and trees. Needless to say, if anyone discovered his secret skill, he would be mortified.
Locien is loyal to Du Weldenvarden simply by default- he dislikes the sneaky cunning expected of the Hand agents, the humans in Broddring, and is very suspicious of the Riders and their dragons.
History: Locien was born in Ellesméra, the eldest son of a powerful couple. His birth was followed by a few others- his brother Eliam is only a year his junior, his sister Ninuvel, who is eight years younger than Locien, and the twins Herenya and Hothien, who are thirteen years younger. The reason for the many children isn’t love between Locien’s parents, but power. The match was decided by the two of them, kept up for political power. Ninuvel and the twins were not close to Locien, although they had a good relationship with Eliam. Locien and Eliam were closest, Eliam able to calm Locien’s rages and help him through his struggles. Their parents made it clear that Locien was expected to excel in the Game and eventually succeed his parents, though Eliam showed more of an interest in politics.
Locien began learning swordplay and other fighting styles at a young age, showing proficiency quickly. His inability to hold still made other types of learning difficult, and he has little magical skill or knowledge, having devoted his time to fighting. Eliam counters him, with his knowledge of healing, combat magic, and history. Locien had several difficulties with holding grudges growing up, refusing to let an insult stand. Eliam was the only person able to soothe his brother’s temper. When their schooling was finished, Locien almost immediately joined the elven army and showed his prowess for command quickly, climbing the ranks with astonishing speed. Eliam joined at a later date as a healer, presumably to keep an eye on his brother. When Locien was made captain, Eliam became the company’s chief healer. Both brothers fought in the war, and when the peace talks began, their company was asked to defend the elven ambassadors and negotiators. Much to Locien’s displeasure, and Eliam’s relief, they were both honorably discharged at the end of the war. Locien, who needed something to keep him busy, turned to another source for employment.
While Eliam climbed social ranks and quickly established a reputation for being quite good at the Game, Locien wandered, spending as much time away from Ellesméra as possible. He avoided humans, though he gained a respect for the few dwarves he met, and when he returned to the elven cities two years after the end of the war, he found much more suffering, poverty, and homelessness than expected among lower class elves. For all his faults, Locien does care about people, and under cover of darkness, began delivering food and medicine to the needy. This would not have been a bad thing except for the fact that much of the goods Locien gave away were stolen from those in power. The beneficiaries of his goodwill dubbed the mysterious champion the Guardian. When Eliam discovered the Guardian mask in his brother’s room six years into his reign as the benevolent Guardian, as well as seeing his brother’s wounds from scuffles from guards, he urged his brother to stop. Locien and Eliam argued, Locien accusing Eliam of being mad for power, Eliam accusing Locien of only helping others in order to steal from those he disdained. Their argument never fully left the brother’s minds, and their past relationship faded. Although Eliam certainly did have a love of the Game, whether his accusations of Locien are true remains to be seen.
Locien continued to work as the Guardian for the next two years, until his parents, at the request of Queen Dellanir, sent him out of the forest to become the newest ambassador to the Hand of Leona in Tears of Leona. Since Locien shares the elven dislike of religion, he accepted the task unwillingly, and took his time traveling to the city.
Roleplaying Sample: This sample is the falling-out between Locien and Eliam when Eliam discovers his alter ego, the Guardian
Locien winced as he peeled off his black shirt. He sighed as he looked it over- covered in blood and torn in many places, he would never be able to use it again. Shaking his head, Locien tossed it into the fireplace. Then he looked down at himself, knowing he was in trouble. A large cut was open across his chest, his arms and back covered with bruises. From the feel of it, he’d broken a rib or two as well. Moving as gingerly as he could, Locien cleaned his cuts and scrapes with mild soap and warm water, gasping when the stings hit his skin. A quiet knock sounded at his door. Locien spun, opening his mouth to shout don’t come in, but it was too late. Eliam cracked open the door, holding something horrible in his hand. Eliam was only a year Locien’s junior, his hair neater and skin fairer than his brother’s, but otherwise quite similar in appearance. Eliam held out the half-mask Locien used nightly and spoke. “I found this outside, is it yours?”
Then the sight of his brother registered and he burst in. “Locien! What happened to you?”
”I- Brother, it’s nothing,” stammered Locien, grabbing a shirt. The sharp movement brought tears of pain to his eyes. Eliam took hold of his arm and steered him toward a chair. “What, in sweet Dellanir Drotting’s name, have you been doing, Locien?”
”Training,” gasped Locien.
“Training, my ass. Start talking. I want the truth, Locien.”
The steel in his brother’s voice was unmistakable. Locien sat and nodded for his brother to sit as well. ”It’s a bit of a long story, brother.”
“Well, you can tell me while I clean you up.”
Eliam took the wet rag and soap, his hands gentle. Locien winced, but spoke. ”You’ve heard of the Guardian, yes? The one who’s been giving food and medicine to the poorer people?”
”The one who’s been stealing from the powerful, you mean. Yes, I’ve heard of him. Rumor is he was caught tonight, near the Tulaviniel house.”
Locien chuckled nervously. ”Uh, he wasn’t caught,” he said.
“Really? How do you know?” asked Eliam, smearing some kind of healing cream on the bruises covering Locien’s shoulders and back. Locien grabbed his wrist and held it for a moment. Eliam stopped, realization of what his brother had said hitting him for the first time.
”He wasn’t caught tonight, Eliam. He escaped, though with a few cuts and bruises.”
“Brother,” started Eliam slowly, “what have you done?”
”He gave the Tulaviniel guards the slip and got home, where he was discovered by his brother,” said Locien quietly.
Eliam was silent for a moment. Locien waited on tenterhooks for his brother’s reaction.
WHAP!
”Ow!” complained Locien, rubbing the back of his head where Eliam had hit him. ”What was that for?”
He swiveled around to look at his brother. Eliam’s ears were bright red, his hands shaking. “You complete idiot Locien Avariernil! You could have been killed, you arsehole!”
Locien smiled a little, relieved. ”You won’t tell, then?”
”Of course not. When have I ever?”
”Thank you,” said Locien. ”I was stupid tonight,” he said with a sigh. ”I got the Tulaviniel house three weeks back, probably shouldn’t have gone again tonight, but Ameliss Dyfallior is sick and needed medicine- her parents can’t afford a healer worth their salt and it would look odd if I left them enough money to pay for it. You know the Tulaviniels have been hoarding medicines ever since the war ended- they could spare a few salves and balms.”
Eliam took a deep breath. “I can’t believe you’ve done this,” he said. “How can you steal from people we’ve known since we were children?”
Locien looked at him, shocked. ”How can I-”
“Brother, as much as I know you’re only trying to help, this is wrong. What were you thinking?”
’What was I thinking?” snapped Locien. ”I was thinking, brother, that innocent people were dying from hunger and cold and sickness, and none of the people we’ve known since we were children are doing bullsh-”
Eliam shoved him. Locien’s instincts for combat kept him from falling, but it was a close thing. He stared at his brother. Eliam’s whole face was red with anger. “You have sacrified everything we have worked on, and for what? A bunch of mumpers who won’t even try to better themselves? Locien, really!”
Locien stood, his hands balled into fists. ”Ever since the war ended you’ve been obsessed with power, Eliam, admit it. You love this ‘Game’, this political mess, don’t you? You love the lies and the subterfuge and the betrayals, all of that crap. And now that someone could take that away, you’re running scared. You don’t care about these people at all! These people, who sacrificed homes and families and money for the war your friends orchestrated in the first place!”
Eliam blinked.
”Didn’t know I knew about that, did you?” sneered Locien. ”The Guardian has eyes and ears everywhere, brother. I’ve known about that for four years.”
“Fine!” shouted Eliam, his hands flying to his hair. He stuck his fingers in the curly brown mess, seizing handfuls of it. “Fine! So they started the war, who cares? It’s over anyway, and it would have come regardless. At any rate, you don’t care about those people either, Locien. Now you admit it to me- the only reason you’ve even started this Guardian business is because you wanted to steal. All our lives you’ve been telling those in power what you think of them- you only wanted an excuse to slap them in the face, not help others! So don’t get all preachy on me, brother.”
Eliam held out the Guardian mask. “I won’t tell on you, Locien. You’ve saved my life more than once in that war, and I owe you this at least. But if I catch you, if you are caught, I will not defend you.”
Locien snatched the mask. ”I called you friend, Eliam. I trusted you with everything. It seems I was right not to trust you with this.”
Eliam left the room, face still red. Locien looked down at the mask in his hand. Blood dripped from the cut on his chest, but what more hurt was the wound in his heart…
