ThePrimeArchon
Villager
Name:
Quirinus Bartholomew Algornex
Nickname/Alias:
My friends call me Quinn, but you can also call me Nex if you want.
Age:
I believe myself to be 47, but due to my father's magic I have remained youthful.
Gender:
Male
Race:
Human, I think.
Alignment:
Neutral Good
Height:
A little over average human height.
Weight:
Intermediate.
Hair:
A nice light brown. It grows straight and I keep it short like most men.
Eyes:
My one regular eye is a hazel yellow-brown, my other one is... different.
Skin:
Fairly pale, although not ghastly like my father.
Identifying Marks:
My left eye is a solid glowing red. It occasionally discharges small crackles of energy every few seconds. I have been told that it dims when I am unconscious, and it flickers when I am close to death.
Appearance:
I am slightly skinny, but I become strong from hunting in the wilderness. I wear a brown coat with silver buttons over a green shirt, me and that coat are inseparable. I also wear a pair of darkish beige pants with a belt.
Strengths:
My father taught me much of magic and alchemy, but much of it is rendered useless considering my current condition. I am competent with a sword, thanks to many battles with wild beasts, and I also enjoy hunting creepers out in fields at night.
Weaknesses and fears:
The Nether gives me the willies, and ghasts just terrify me outright; but I do not mind the End as much. I might also add that I am not worth anything in combat without a melee weapon, I am terrible with ranged and unarmed combat. Most prominently, I am stripped of all my innate magical abilities, so I cannot enchant objects, however, I can still brew potions and take pleasure in doing so.
Religion and cults:
I worship no particular god. It is in my belief that if I don't do anything to bother them outright, they they won't bother me. I imagine that this would be kind of awkward to talk about if I speak to them face to face.
Profession:
I take joy in brewing, and am part of the Emerald Guard. Before I became thaumaturgically grounded, I was a powerful wizard. I accept bounty hunting if the person or creature is innately evil.
Backstory:
I was born as the son of the wizard Dustar, a powerful mage. He raised me to respect knowledge, and as such I am innately curious, but I tended to take a more lighthearted view on things than he did. As my father grew older, he slowly grew wicked and pale. I did not know how old he was, but I recall waking up one morning and finding my father in his deathbed. His eyes were bloodshot, but also glowed from within with an unnatural green light. I came up to his bed and he revealed to me the truth about him, and why I was forbidden to go to the village. My father was a necromancer, he said he wanted to keep this hidden from me as to not spoil my search for knowledge, but I feel that he merely became greedy of his power. As I was kneeling before him, he rasped at me that as a necromancer, he needed all of his life energy to create a phylactery and live on after his death. As his son, some of his life energy was grounded in me. He asked me to tear out me soul and give it to him, so that he could live on to terrorize millions. I vehemently declined, and was horrified at what my father had become. Enraged with my resistance, he used some of the last of his power to summon skeletal minions to take my soul by force. In the following battle, I barely managed to escape with my life, and lost my eye in the skirmish. I ran and hid in the surrounding forest, living by my wits and using the knowledge I was taught of the animals and the plants. It was here that I became adept with the sword and melee combat. In addition, I was unable to repair my eye entirely, but I was able to center my retina in an patchwork arcane vortex that feeds directly into the optic nerve, short version: I got myself a magic eye. After a few weeks, I decided to return to the tower, expecting my father to be dead. Instead, he was in the same state as before, but he had absorbed the life of all around him, his minions were gone, and all the plants within miles were rotten and dead, their life essence used to sustain him while he waited for me to return. I suppose I was expecting an apology, but all he did was point his staff of power at me and ask again. He made threats to take it forcefully if I did not comply, but he hadn't the power to cast another spell and live, he was at his reserves. Again, I denied, and I began to leave, but as I turned around, he spoke: "I Have No Son," in a voice that reverberated through the entire structure. As I began to feel the tower collapse, he used his dying breath and the last of his energy to cast a spell unlike any that I have seen before. It sent me whirling millions of miles in an etherial form through a hellish alternate realm. I witnessed red-hot metal constructs chasing down and killing travelers, flying pale demons shooting fireballs as I shot by, and hordes of sickly rotten abominations likened to anthropomorphic swine. I could barely hold on to my sanity, and I blacked out. My last memory in that terrifying place I know now to be the Nether was a regal feminine figure finding me on the ground, a queen, and carrying me into a swirling purple sea...
Quirinus Bartholomew Algornex
Nickname/Alias:
My friends call me Quinn, but you can also call me Nex if you want.
Age:
I believe myself to be 47, but due to my father's magic I have remained youthful.
Gender:
Male
Race:
Human, I think.
Alignment:
Neutral Good
Height:
A little over average human height.
Weight:
Intermediate.
Hair:
A nice light brown. It grows straight and I keep it short like most men.
Eyes:
My one regular eye is a hazel yellow-brown, my other one is... different.
Skin:
Fairly pale, although not ghastly like my father.
Identifying Marks:
My left eye is a solid glowing red. It occasionally discharges small crackles of energy every few seconds. I have been told that it dims when I am unconscious, and it flickers when I am close to death.
Appearance:
I am slightly skinny, but I become strong from hunting in the wilderness. I wear a brown coat with silver buttons over a green shirt, me and that coat are inseparable. I also wear a pair of darkish beige pants with a belt.
Strengths:
My father taught me much of magic and alchemy, but much of it is rendered useless considering my current condition. I am competent with a sword, thanks to many battles with wild beasts, and I also enjoy hunting creepers out in fields at night.
Weaknesses and fears:
The Nether gives me the willies, and ghasts just terrify me outright; but I do not mind the End as much. I might also add that I am not worth anything in combat without a melee weapon, I am terrible with ranged and unarmed combat. Most prominently, I am stripped of all my innate magical abilities, so I cannot enchant objects, however, I can still brew potions and take pleasure in doing so.
Religion and cults:
I worship no particular god. It is in my belief that if I don't do anything to bother them outright, they they won't bother me. I imagine that this would be kind of awkward to talk about if I speak to them face to face.
Profession:
I take joy in brewing, and am part of the Emerald Guard. Before I became thaumaturgically grounded, I was a powerful wizard. I accept bounty hunting if the person or creature is innately evil.
Backstory:
I was born as the son of the wizard Dustar, a powerful mage. He raised me to respect knowledge, and as such I am innately curious, but I tended to take a more lighthearted view on things than he did. As my father grew older, he slowly grew wicked and pale. I did not know how old he was, but I recall waking up one morning and finding my father in his deathbed. His eyes were bloodshot, but also glowed from within with an unnatural green light. I came up to his bed and he revealed to me the truth about him, and why I was forbidden to go to the village. My father was a necromancer, he said he wanted to keep this hidden from me as to not spoil my search for knowledge, but I feel that he merely became greedy of his power. As I was kneeling before him, he rasped at me that as a necromancer, he needed all of his life energy to create a phylactery and live on after his death. As his son, some of his life energy was grounded in me. He asked me to tear out me soul and give it to him, so that he could live on to terrorize millions. I vehemently declined, and was horrified at what my father had become. Enraged with my resistance, he used some of the last of his power to summon skeletal minions to take my soul by force. In the following battle, I barely managed to escape with my life, and lost my eye in the skirmish. I ran and hid in the surrounding forest, living by my wits and using the knowledge I was taught of the animals and the plants. It was here that I became adept with the sword and melee combat. In addition, I was unable to repair my eye entirely, but I was able to center my retina in an patchwork arcane vortex that feeds directly into the optic nerve, short version: I got myself a magic eye. After a few weeks, I decided to return to the tower, expecting my father to be dead. Instead, he was in the same state as before, but he had absorbed the life of all around him, his minions were gone, and all the plants within miles were rotten and dead, their life essence used to sustain him while he waited for me to return. I suppose I was expecting an apology, but all he did was point his staff of power at me and ask again. He made threats to take it forcefully if I did not comply, but he hadn't the power to cast another spell and live, he was at his reserves. Again, I denied, and I began to leave, but as I turned around, he spoke: "I Have No Son," in a voice that reverberated through the entire structure. As I began to feel the tower collapse, he used his dying breath and the last of his energy to cast a spell unlike any that I have seen before. It sent me whirling millions of miles in an etherial form through a hellish alternate realm. I witnessed red-hot metal constructs chasing down and killing travelers, flying pale demons shooting fireballs as I shot by, and hordes of sickly rotten abominations likened to anthropomorphic swine. I could barely hold on to my sanity, and I blacked out. My last memory in that terrifying place I know now to be the Nether was a regal feminine figure finding me on the ground, a queen, and carrying me into a swirling purple sea...