Minty
Lord of Altera
AshenWanderer
Status: Discouraged, angered, troubled.
As of: 5/3/15
( "Your Life is a Lie" - KaktusChan ) ( "Addicted" - KaktusChan ) ( "Delusion" - KaktusChan )
Full Titles: None
Nickname/Alias: It's easy to call him "Ren" or "Ik", he prefers his full name most times.
KEY INFORMATION:
Age: Twenty years old.
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Social Status: Still lower class, however he dresses and eats much better after moving to Oren.
Height: Rather average, close to 6'
Weight: His move to Oren has him eating and training regularly, bulking up from around 145lbs. to around 150-155lbs.
Homeland: A rather indistinct settlement in the North. Ikaren can hardly remember it.
Current Home: He's left his place in Lydel, Coopershire, to set out for Oren. He currently resides within the fort.
PHYSIOLOGY:
Build: Broadened shoulders and slightly thickened limbs. Regular exercise keeps his body in a good condition, a diet to match. Average strength, nothing extreme.
Hair: Ikaren has recently trimmed up his hair, not perfectly mind you. He's kept some length- But not nearly as much as before. A faint amount of facial hair has grown about his chin.
Eyes: A dark navy blue, quite dull and emotionless at times. They often appear to be thoughtful, almost calculating.Skin: Rather pale on account of his covering clothing and armor, littered with minor scrapes and gashes from his childhood.
Identifying Marks: None that quite stick out. The only serious mark would be on his left forearm, seeming to be a noticeable scar from an attempt to block a blade ineffectively, closed by potion.
Appearance: Rugged, yet maintained. Likely to be found inspecting the environment around him. Often found in the midst of his training, brewing, or sleeping. Ikaren is not one to stand about without doing anything.
Clothing: He's abandoned his old clothing for something much better suited for his new Northern climate. A heavy, fur cloak with layers of cloth beneath. In addition, he wears a leather vest, capable of holding various pouches or scabbards under the cloak.
When not in the cold north, Ikaren often trades his blackened furs for travelling clothing- Lightly armored about the upper torso and forearms by leather. A weathered travelling cloak. Comfortable and airy riding pants and durable leather boots. Light clothing so as to not overheat in the south.
Weaponry: A steel blade, freshly sharpened and cared for. Ikaren has told himself that he will not allow this blade to meet a similar fate to his previous...
Prized Possessions: A simple amulet crafted by his sister, always kept under his shirt- Never out of his reach. Meant to resemble a crude sword. It is likely that he will go to great lengths to get it back should it ever leave his body. He's recently taken a nether shard from a demon fought in the Nether, he holds it close as he's been told by Rahas that it will hold power some day.
An old fishing rod with an odd bauble held tightly in place by fishing line, it has proved reliable in catch most average sized fish from the rivers in the south to the frozen shores of the north. The bauble seems to be some sort of slightly reflective river mineral, it caught Ikaren's eye and tied it to the line for good luck- It seems to have worked thus far.
Hygiene: Regularly bathing when about Oren, keeping clean when not training or working.Voice: Similar to Daario Naharis. [Link] Perhaps younger sounding, slightly less gravelly, a touch softer.
References:
Clothing:
Left: Ikaren's Southern Travelling garb, consisting of a heavy cloak for night riding or cold weather, a tunic of cloth and leather, lightly armored about the upper torso and forearms, riding gloves, comfortable and airy riding pants with tight leather riding boots.
Right: Ikaren's northern wear. dark materials crafted in the far north. A thick, dark fur cloak, a rim of light white, several layers of dark shirts to retain heat, gloves of leather and fur, various belts hang about his chest and arms, layers about his legs and waist, finally, leather and fur boots. All suitable for working about Oren as well as travelling the frozen lands for many hours.
Hair:
Upon travelling north, Ikaren attempted to clean up his hair. Knife in hand and several hours later, he'd find himself with a hairstyle reminiscent of the above. Cut down on the sides, leaving the top to hang down over the right side of his head. A faint amount of facial hair lines his chin and upper lip, nothing overly significant.
Items:
Left: His sister's handcrafted gift. Ikaren is rarely seen without it. It appears to resemble a crude sword made from bits of scrap nail and a fairly tough length of cord. This is Ikaren's last keepsake from his younger sister, Ivy, losing this means losing her to him. If this rather simple item is taken or lost, Ikaren will be hell-bent on recovering it. This is not necessarily known by anyone IC, yet.
Right: Ikaren's new blade, a replacement from Oren. Freshly sharpened and of a sturdy make. He has vowed to not let this blade meet a similar fate to his previous. No name has been given to this blade.
QUALITIES AND FLAWS: Left: Ikaren's Southern Travelling garb, consisting of a heavy cloak for night riding or cold weather, a tunic of cloth and leather, lightly armored about the upper torso and forearms, riding gloves, comfortable and airy riding pants with tight leather riding boots.
Right: Ikaren's northern wear. dark materials crafted in the far north. A thick, dark fur cloak, a rim of light white, several layers of dark shirts to retain heat, gloves of leather and fur, various belts hang about his chest and arms, layers about his legs and waist, finally, leather and fur boots. All suitable for working about Oren as well as travelling the frozen lands for many hours.
Hair:
Upon travelling north, Ikaren attempted to clean up his hair. Knife in hand and several hours later, he'd find himself with a hairstyle reminiscent of the above. Cut down on the sides, leaving the top to hang down over the right side of his head. A faint amount of facial hair lines his chin and upper lip, nothing overly significant.
Items:
Left: His sister's handcrafted gift. Ikaren is rarely seen without it. It appears to resemble a crude sword made from bits of scrap nail and a fairly tough length of cord. This is Ikaren's last keepsake from his younger sister, Ivy, losing this means losing her to him. If this rather simple item is taken or lost, Ikaren will be hell-bent on recovering it. This is not necessarily known by anyone IC, yet.
Right: Ikaren's new blade, a replacement from Oren. Freshly sharpened and of a sturdy make. He has vowed to not let this blade meet a similar fate to his previous. No name has been given to this blade.
Strengths: Ikaren is not afraid to take a situation into his own hands, if he sees fit. A seeming endless source of determination- If his mind is set on something. It will be done, or he will die trying. Along with this, he is an extremely loyal person once you gain his full trust. His training in the north has hardened him to a degree. Having obtained a Nether shard, he has confidence in his ability.
Fears: Failure, loss, and loneliness, among many other things.
Weaknesses: His mind is rather unfocused, often confused. Not too intelligent. Rather slow to put trust into people- Regardless of their true intentions. Mostly introverted when introduced into foreign environments. Prefers to face things alone, seeing as how he often doesn't trust many.
Intelligence: Ikaren is in no way book-smart. He's managed to maintain a decent common sense that has kept him alive when he can't rely on true knowledge. An understanding of reading, albeit slow, as well as a simple handle on writing.
Languages: Strictly Common. He's learned to identify the sound of Elven, though- He can't speak a lick of it.
Profession: Wandering Blade / Trainee of Oren
ETHICS AND MOTIVATIONS:
Personality: Certainly keeps to himself. He finds comfort in the fact that he can't hurt himself too bad, while others- on the other hand- can. He, unwillingly, takes after his long-gone father in the sense that he prefers to work alone as it reduces friction and seems to get the job done. Can appear quite blunt, hot-headed, and misguided at times. Ikaren really does not like to think on the past, likely to lie to make things sound better.
Religion or Cults: He hasn't found his place in the pantheon quite yet. Though, He's taken a certain interest in Theodra- But has failed to follow through with worship or study recently.
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral.
Short Term Goals:
- Find his way as a Ranger [ In Progress, Very little contact with any rangers due to his move to Oren, he wishes to find a ranger to begin his training as a ranger alongside his training as a swordsman of Oren ]
- Become a better hunter [ In Progress, both for Theodra's sake and for his bounty hunting "career", his last attempt on contract work has discouraged him. He finds hunting game to be satisfying although he is inexperienced. ]
- Train at Oren [ In Progress, training whenever he isn't asleep or working around Oren ]
-
- Practice the brewing trade [ Put on Hold, having gone south, Ikaren does not have the ingredients or means to brew anything ]
Long Term Goals:
- Escape his past and atone for what he's managed to do, eventually- if possible
- Find Ivy, try to make up for being a terrible brother
- Avoid becoming the men who raised him ( Father, Kaine )
- Escape his past and atone for what he's managed to do, eventually- if possible
- Find Ivy, try to make up for being a terrible brother
- Avoid becoming the men who raised him ( Father, Kaine )
RELATIONS: Loved: His sister, Ivy. ( Assumed dead. )
Trusted: No one, entirely.
Befriended: Adrian, A friendly face who was found whilst travelling the road. He was the one to show Ikaren to Theodra originally. Aryus, met at the Crossroads- Managed to get into some mischief together. Ikaren believes there are lessons to be learned from him.
Loyal: Ikaren shows distinct loyalty towards Syr, he finds Syr to be a very honorable lord, although strict. Often looking to him as a role model.
Liked: Godric, Ikaren is extremely grateful for the things that Godric has set up for him. Halvdan, a friendly companion to Adrian. Benjamin, Syr's son, seems to be quite friendly to those of Oren- Both Ikaren and Ben hold Nether shards, they plan to investigate their power in the future.
Neutral: Aline, Ambyr, Jeor, Niah, Lacey, Jill, Matthew - All people met through Oren, he'll likely act more friendly to them simply because he shares the space of Oren with them.
Unsure of: -
Wary of: -
Afraid of: -
Disliked: Scardrac, merely due to what he's heard from the people of Oren.
Hated: -
BACKSTORY:
None of the following would be known by anyone in character, he has yet to tell anyone of his life and often avoids the topic unless he trusts who he is speaking with.
Fragment I:
A memory from Ikaren's youth. A younger, much more ragged figure than what Ikaren is today- Another. An elf, quite rugged, a devilish smirk as he held a battered blade up and faced Ikaren in a small sparring ring. It would seem as though Ikaren had taken a knick to the cheek. His clothes torn and slightly stained with sweat and blood.
"Come now, Ikaren.. You'll never hold your own like this. Learn to thrive.. Learn to endure while under pressure."
"K-Kaine.. I. I can't go on.. Not like this. Not now."
Ikaren panted heavily as he could hardly hold his stance.
"Nonsense.."
Kaine lunged forwards and swung hard at Ikaren's side. A sharp, loud ring would be heard. Along with grunts from Ikaren as he feebly holds back the attack.
Ikaren forces Kaine away only to strike with his remaining strength. Backing Kaine, foot by foot, out of the ring. Kaine would lower his blade and continue to smirk. Lifting a hand to pat Ikaren's shoulder.
"There you are, boy.."
It rang through Ikaren's head as he seemed to fall to his side. Hitting the ground with a slightly muffled thud. Panting like a dog.
"Come now, Ikaren." ... "Boy.." ... "Learn to thrive." ... "Endure."
Fragment II:
Another memory, several weeks after the previous fragment. Ikaren and Kaine lie in wait beside a dirt path. A caravan slowly makes its way down the path. As it passes, Kaine waits on a signal before patting Ikaren on the shoulder and launching into the path with the rest of a small band of raiders-
"Here we go-"
Kaine would eagerly move to stop the leading caravan, the guards dismounting and attempting to fend off the ambush. Ikaren is hesitant, however, he would draw his blade only to block a few blows- Pushing the guards towards some of the others.
As the caravan's numbers thin, several are taken hostage- Lined up before the remaining raiders. One of the captives struggles to free himself, hollering. Kaine pipes up-
"Ikaren.. Silence this one."
Kaine's usual devilish smirk grows as he looks to the nervous boy. Ikaren approaches the captive, looking over him. "He's.. Just a captive. Nothing else." He tried to tell himself. Hardly holding his blade up to the captive, Ikaren is shoved closer by Kaine.
"No mercy, Ikaren. It's him or you, just be happy this one's tied up."
Ikaren swallows hard, raising his blade hesitantly to the prisoner's neck. Shutting his eyes hard for a moment- Images of his younger sister flash through his head, accompanied by a booming version of Kaine's "Him or you" line. Acting on pure impulse, he tears back his arm- Quickly moving away as the captive goes quiet, hitting the ground with a faint thud.
Kaine's grin grows wider, watching Ikaren stumble off. Ikaren, feeling incredibly shaky, slides his blade away, striving to get back to camp quickly. On the way back to camp, Ikaren's stomach would not settle.
"Ikaren.. Silence this one." ... "No mercy" ... "Him" ... "Or" ... "You"
Fragment III:
This memory would take place when Ikaren still lived alongside his father, his sister not yet born. Set within a small city far to the north, the lesser district- Many storefronts and stalls line the cramped, muddy streets. A light snow falls from the dark blue-grey sky, melting to a slush within the mud. Dragging his feet as his father gripped his collar, Ikaren would be being brought back to a storefront that he "visited" earlier on in the day.
"There! There is the thief! He best have my ring still..."
A shopkeeper would point an accusing finger towards Ikaren, speaking like an ornery child to his father. Ikaren dared a glance back to his father, a scowl on his face. I was only trying to get some coin for a meal tonight.. Bastard.. Ikaren thought angrily. His father glared razors down Ikaren's back, he could feel them- this not being the first time he's felt this.
"The ring, Ikaren.. Give the man his ring, now."
His father commanded and Ikaren obeyed, or, at least feigned doing so. Reaching down to his boot where the ring was tucked, he defiantly reached for a stone in the mud- wrenching it free and trying to fling it at the shopkeeper. His father, however, caught him by the side of the head with the back of his fist; it felt like a log being swung by a giant, sprawling him out on the wet, muddy street. The stone plopped back into the mud, sinking a ways in.
Scrambling to get away- Ikaren wriggled in the mud to get to his hands and feet, managing to roll over and quickly get himself moving. His father hollered in anger, as did the shopkeeper. They both began to run after him, cursing loudly. Weaving throughout lanes in the road, between groupings of people, crawling under and vaulting over various obstacles, Ikaren put a decent distance between him and his pursuers.
He found a small alleyway to sink into, panting heavily as sweat trickled down his face and fell down to his soiled furs, Carefully, he slipped off his thick boot; his bare ankle instantly feeling the sensation caused by the open chilly breeze. Slipping a small gold band from the boot, inspecting it. Nothing entirely special, a decent piece with light decorative engraving. Frowning as he looked down the alley and hearing his pursuers finally catching up. Tucking the ring back into his boot and quickly lacing it back up. His face finally began to feel a stinging pain, the side of his face already having bruised a touch.
"Damn you, boy! Give the man his damned ring.. Gods know I can't afford you stealing anything!"
His father clearly did not care what others thought of him, he was a man with a proud presence about him- impenetrable by most insults, despite most of the insults being completely true. Stomping forwards and gritting his teeth as his hand gripped his collar and yanked him just off the ground. Ikaren's voice was nervous, and for good reason.
"I-I... I dropped it.."
He managed to force this lie through his lips, awaiting his imminent beating, closing his eyes tight and shrinking. Sure enough, it came. And came in force. His father struck him against the bruised side of his head again, the initial sting twice as bad as the first strike.
"I regret calling you my son..."
His father growled lowly, shaking his head slowly as he stared straight through his son. Turning back and shoving the boy to the ground, to the feet of the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper looked over the ragged, dirty boy with an eye half filled with pity, half filled with rage. Eventually, he spoke slowly and through half-gritted teeth.
"If this happens again, I'll have the guards after you. They won't show you half the mercy I do."
Angrily, he stormed off. Ikaren's father slowly lumbered behind his son, shoving him out of the alley.
"Home. Now."
The command was heeded, Ikaren had no more fight in him this day. His head hung low the entire way as his large shadow of a father lagged just behind him. The cold breeze making his face sting and swell all the more. The only redeeming factor being that he still held something to trade for his next meal as he knew his father would only care to take away his meals for the next few days due to his actions. He was no father, he was no caretaker, only a cruel stranger.
"Regret" ... "Son" ... "Home" ... "Damn you, boy!" ... "Thief!"
Music:
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