NaturallyFlawed
Villager
Name:
My name is Elebrian Onden of the Sylvan Knoll in the Treldan Wood
Nickname/Alias:
Often times my Naneth and closest of mellon would of called me "Dae"
Age:
In Human years, I would be two-hundred and twenty-five. In Elven years, I am twenty-five.
Gender:
I am considered a Male of my Race.
Race:
Elven
Height:
I stand at the height of 6' even.
Weight:
I weigh approximately One-Hundred and Sixty-Five pounds.
Hair:
My hair is the color of pure glistening snow in the cold nights of winter.
Eyes:
My Naneth once told me that they resemble the color of Ada's Silver Goblet, as he drank mead from the stills of Trekenia.
Skin:
Pale in comparison to the majority of my kin. Off color peach if you prefer.
Identifying Marks:
One distinguishing mark, that I do my very best to hide, is a scar above my right temple. About a 4 inch gash that was a sign of honor from the one whom gave it to me. Maybe one day, you'll learn of this mark, and learn to fear it.
Appearance:
Adorned in the finest silk of my homelands. The pigmentation of colors come from a wide variety of Nature. The golden lining from the sap of a grand Doron, baked in the summer sun. The green from the blessed Asea of the Taure. The browns made from the hide of a Draug, and dried in the Silme of the winter months. The grays from an Ungol, freshly spun.
Strengths:
I have many Strengths, but those Strengths did not come without a price to pay. As the essence of my people, the "Cu ar' Pilin'" is a profficiency worthy of any fiend wishing to test it.
I also am well versed in Medicinal means of herbs. Potions of both Medicinal and Poisonous attributes are of an intricate design of reason.
Weaknesses and fears:
I fear only what I can not see. I do not look upon death as a side effect of life. I look upon death as a welcoming to the end of pain and carnage.
I fear the loss of my honor above all.
Religion and cults:
I praise the Alteraean Goddess of Nature Shalherana.
Profession:
First and aforemost I am a seeker of Truth. I seek the truth of my heritage. Where we came from, why we left our lands, and the truth about my lineage. I also seek the "Parma en' Nole : I' Parma en' Oira Kalina"
Secondly, I am a Ranger, holding true to the lands of Altera, keeping its inhabitants safe from the further corruption.
Lastly, I perform acts of a Gul. A Potion Master if you will. The Elvish to Common translation would be Magic. Closest word I could manage.
Backstory:
Growing up in the Sylvan Knoll, was hard enough as a child. To add onto it, I managed to get mixed in with the wrong crowd. When we are young, we never seem to think anything bad could happen, and if it does, we'll just combat it, and it will be done. Nevertheless, my story begins on a bright summers day, by the brook of Ashcala.
It had been raining for a forenight, and I grew tired of the daily aspirations being trampled by the dreary agonizing sound of rain beating down on our roof. I had begged Naneth to console me with her ever so brilliantly made Galen suilpar. A soup that would fill you with the most exuberant feeling one could ever feel. Yet, she insisted that it took to much to make, and she grew tired of my incessant nagging.
Alas! Daylight had finally broken through the clouds, and I had finally been given leave to escape the confines of the wretched walls that in-prisoned me.
I made my way down to the brook of Ashcala. A bein filled discovery, that my friends and I shared two summers past. As I walk down the path, hidden from the main view, I noticed a bit of void, squandering about the edge of the nen. It was as if nothing was there. Not even nothing, just emptiness. No words could of described it. The feeling of emptiness confused me. I had grown weary of the confines previous, and every bone in my body told me to return to the safety of it, but I was transfixed. Entwined by the awkward look of things, with some of the nen being there, and some not.
The next thing I knew, there it was.....
{WILL CONTINUE UPDATING}