[The Hunter | Aryn]

[Lannis]

Aryn
Elvish man, old enough to have adult children
Tall, lithe, and covered in scars​

The Boy:
Sent blind into the world to make their fortune was the Boy, pulling together coins and trophies to send back home. Kind, good-natured, the world was open before him and full of friends. He plied his trades of smithing and hunting, selling much of what he caught and pawning what crude works he could. He found kin and home with the Rangers, a steady enough life for him to practice in peace and have enough coin at the end of the month to spend some on himself. Here he learned of family and the warmth of companionship and cut his teeth on making friends, for it had been a scarce opportunity to socialize through the trips and moving and forests of his upbringing. With vicious face did he meet his foes, a snarl belying the dull teeth beneath. Here he sought to be a duality; a wild front that his foes may underestimate him, with his true character in reserve so that he may keep an edge. In this did he err, for he shared with all the former while quietly wishing for them to find the latter.
This time in his life ended amidst snowy trees, with the jaws of a dead wolf around his forearm.
Motivation: To sell, to earn, to save.
Theme: Keep the Wolves Away - Uncle Lucius

"There is only one unforgivable lie. That is the lie that says, this is the end, you are the conqueror, you have achieved it and now all that remains is to build walls higher and shelter behind them. Now, the lie says, the world is safe."

The Boy, Continued:
Here upon his path did he seek to conquer himself; his fears, his insecurities. He fancied himself a man for meeting the object of his fears and greeting it by blade, and so sought to be as men are; boisterous, vivacious, full of spirit and challenge. Only in duress did his character shine through; frightened, but determined to see it through for the sake of his friends. His error compounded, for he presented more boldly the lie that was his mask, the indecision on who he should be more surely cementing its place unseen. He tried to call out but knew not the words, found none to match his sentiments or confide his fears. He wondered if he was a man at all, or if the forests were more truly his home.
This time in his life ended on a hill in Blackrush, with blunt words ending a challenge laid.
Motivation: To find personality beyond being what was needed of him.
Theme: Through the Valley - Shawn James

"Strength without wisdom breeds nothing but savagery. Wisdom without strength promises nothing but extinction."

Aryn:
Here his faith was recognized and he found honor in the Goddess that deemed his understanding sufficient for blessing. He learned the value of ideas and the wisdom in challenging them, the value of learning things beyond simply what was practical. Here he came to understand that while simplicity is beautiful, it is a dreadful shame to be less than a man in pursuit of it. Here he made unlikely friends and went on grand adventures with them, learned of loss and sacrifice. He learned to be less brash, to consider himself a scholar before a warrior, though by now both were true; fear replaced by confidence, the uncertainty of war beaten back by the understanding of his ability. He came to understand beauty and nobility to be the state of perfection and the impossible pursuit of it.
This time in his life ended in hubris, of a figment claiming passage upon his mortal coil in a moment of vulnerability.
Motivation: To live. Finally, to live.
Theme: In the Air Tonight - Phil Collins

"His blood sang with the glory of the hunt, screaming like the wind slashing by. In that moment nothing, not the burden of command, nor the sting of loss, nor the fear of a faceless future, mattered. His existence was reduced to perfection, to the flat, hot, open expanse beneath and to the foe before him. The prey."

​

The Instrument:
Symbiosis, at least in name. Bloodlust imparted a new and not wholly disagreeable sensation; of power, of bloodshed without end. When they do battle it is a glorious partnership, its nature aligning with his inclination, but in peace it is an incessant thirst held back only by his dimming will. He knows not loss or grief or joy, all drowned in equal measure by the calls for blood and the focus to resist it. Exhaustion drives him to his earlier ideal of beauty; of being something primal, base and without complication. He struggles against this in times of clarity, setting the balance by leaning far into his academic mien. From the figment he inferred a dreadful idea of heretical allure, that in gathering more of its type he might forge a court of his own and honor his god by emulation. He resists the temptation in part, and seeks a solution to keep the figment at arm's length.
Motivation: Beauty.
Theme: No Love Division - "Boolus"


The Free:
The dagger sunk into the heart of his tormentor, and there was silence at last. Aryn knew peace once more, a joy that drew his burdens and lightened his step.
Motivation: Perfection
Theme: Wolf Totem - The HU


The Fey:
His blessing deepens. He can feel the forest in his bones, burrowing around and rooting into the marrow. He knows how the leaves move and how to dance in them, how to persuade the grass to hold secret his steps. The forest is old, ancient and indifferent to the walls that rise and crumble within it. He can feel it in his bones, the weight of eons flattening the concerns of civilization to insignificance. It all seems so young, so hasty; mortal concerns hardly a blink against the endless turn of the cycle. The forest is all that is, and all to do is to walk in it.
Motivation: Eternity
Theme: True Colors - Richie Kohan


The Lover:
A new sensation, a new experience; to love another, and have it returned. The Fallen Empress teaches him the spectrum of emotion that comes with caring for another above himself. He knows fear, concern for her life as well as his own, and he knows joy. Many adventures are had, many hunts, and he watches her grow with pride.
Motivation: The Present
Theme: Xue Hua Piao Piao Bei Feng Xiao Xiao - Don Dong


The Archivist:
A question asked of an archangel, and an answer to change his life irreparably. To gaze upon divinity is to risk blindness, and his blessing or curse for it was to remember the glimpse and all else eternal. No more can he forget the smiles than the tears, each moment etched forever in his memory. Sometimes a tool, a way to reflect and glean wisdom that may have been missed, it more often weighs as a burden as his pains and traumas pile on.
Motivation: Wisdom
Theme: In the Pines - Janel Drewis


The Ascended:
A blessing bestowed, but resisted as unearned. He understands not his God's will, only the bitter chagrin of rising to confidence in his abilities to be beaten back down to the same helpless state as so many times before. For all the years he is The Boy once more, uncertain and afraid despite the heights he has reached.
Motivation: Uncertain
Theme: Sixteen Tons - Tennessee Ernie Ford

Spoiler

The Father:
Children born, and everything changed. How different the world became after a look in their eyes. He felt great joy, and shame that he had not delivered them perfection.
Motivation: Cure the world's woes


The Soldier:
Torn from his family to fight a war between Gods. Aryn joined it reluctantly and left it disillusioned.
Motivation: Return home


The Idealist:
Perhaps if a man may change, so too may the world. His interests turn inwards, no longer aspiring to be a paragon of the divine first, but of himself.
Motivation: Apotheosis

Relations:

Theodra:

Theodra | Beautiful.​

​

​

Almost Theodra:

The Act of Cutting | The highest form of art.​

​

​

Loved:

Aelyth | His spouse. Every time he sees her he remembers what it felt like when she died.​

Alyssa | His darling daughter.​

Cael | His precious son.​

Haldir | His other precious son.​

Shard | His greatsword. Very fun to swing.​

Homeguard | One of the gifts from Theodra. Tricky.​

​

​

Good Friends:

Podric | His knight in shining armor, literally. The one to come rescue him from his imprisonment.​

Uriel | Aryn respects the man for his conviction and earnestness, even if their methods may differ.​

Jaden | Competent. A welcome contemporary.​

Somnastra | Competent, probably. Fairly amusing.​

Ashna | A contemporary, though of different mien.​

Devotion | His longsword. Nimble, precise.​

​

Melee Weapons:

Swords | They're pretty great.​

Daggers | Good in a pinch​

Spears | Alright​

​

​

Friends:

Marian | Bad for his marriage. Reliable sort.​

Cieren | Good at storytelling. Absolute chaos.​

Halvar | A good lad. Reminds him of himself.​

Yrdl | Another good lad.​

J. Seeker | Also bad for Aryn's marriage.​

Kharn | Reliable sort ahead.​

Quill | She is helpful and has given him no reason to object. Also, she is somewhat amusing.​

​

​

Ranged Weapons:

Bows | Good for hunting, good for killing, but not as elegant as swords.​

Knives | Occasionally deadly​

​

​

New Friends:

Harlow | A good shot. Perhaps wiser than most, but he's been fooled before.​

Jacob | He wishes he wore a shirt more often.​

​

​

Children (Not His):

​

​

Strongly Disliked:

Bok'ra | Aryn occasionally wonders if he's a purer existence of his god's will than most, but ultimately doesn't put much stock in Bok'ra's philosophical merit. He considers him to be irritating, a threat to be dealt with when he presents himself, but not particularly stimulating otherwise.​

Branko | Reprobate.​

Candice | Has not gotten over their talk in the New Riseport tavern.​

​

​

Hated:

The Result of Cutting | A base, vile thing.​

Jishrim | A base, vile thing.​

Skraag | A base, vile thing.​

Dranoden | The full subject of his inverted affections.​

​

​

Retired Friends:

Rose and Thorn | A brace of swords from when he first started playing with swords. They are remembered fondly.​

Longsword, nameless | Given to Alyssa for her own use. He thinks it will do her well.​

​

​

 

[Lannis]

Music

[Saint Motel - A Good Song Never Dies]

[Savior - Ghost Link Symphonies]


Art

Spoiler: Forest

Spoiler: Gibs

Spoiler: Magic Intern

Spoiler: Sami

Stories

Spoiler: Backstory|The Boy

It was the first time he had wished to kill someone. The Boy kept to the outskirts, lingering in their collective consciousness. Some days he was not seen at all, and others he kept just out of the treeline, begging for water. His ink-stained veins filled him with unease; he could smell the sickness on Him as surely as he could tainted meat. Mother said to avoid Him.
Rose did not share his instinct about the Boy. He would catch her sneaking water out to Him, a heel of bread, a conversation. Each time he told her not to, she listened only until the next time. She was young, and there was no abstract danger that seemed as important as being kind. In a way he envied her innocence.
She started to cough, and that was the first time he had wished to kill someone. Rage coursed through him as surely as the taint darkening the veins of the Boy, and he hunted for Him, but He had fled from the outskirts, and he was left alone with his anger. There was no prey to sate it, only 'what ifs' and the looming fate waiting in their hovel.
Her cough worsened. Their mother began to cough too, but her veins didn't go black like Rose's did, and she did not rave of her strange dreams. How many trips to the well did he make, over how many days? The numbers were insufficient, an inferior clock to the steady measure of her wasting away. A paled, grey husk barely weighing on the bed where it lay.
It was the second time he wished death on someone.

Spoiler: The Wolf

The northern chill bit deep. Aryn could feel it in his bones, could feel the static tingle in his muscles fighting the descent to numbness. His pulse roared against the cold, beating in quick tempo from apprehension and a more base, primal thrill. He had expected to meet his quarry by now; for a quarter-hour he had been stalking its territory with a hunk of raw meat bleeding its scent into the air. Perhaps it was occupied, perhaps it was asleep. Perhaps it was already hunting him.

His senses strained at their absolute limit, yearning for any hint of a clue. Around him he could feel the companions he asked along, Reivos in the trees, Joe and Cherysh padding through the snow. But they were only there to witness the hunt, not join it, and he paid them little mind.

Ahead in the snow, figures. He fell still, watching them for any sign of life. After a half-dozen breaths of stillness, he moved closer. It was prey, humaniod, unknown to him. Dead, with torn by fangs. He moved on.

More heartbeats passed. Another grove. Something large stirs, and he stills. An elk, moving from the trees. It calls, and they watch each other for a moment. Once content that it is not his prey it settles for but a moment until another elk cries in the trees. He discerns nothing amiss, but the elk beside him shows fear. He listens again, and the elk in the trees echoes more. A predator, unknown. Perhaps what was in the snow. He throws his bait down, and prepares to fight.

The fight does not come. Motion from the trees, the unknown predator pursued by his quarry. A wolf, perhaps the last of a pack culled by the mimics. Alone for a while, fighting against the forest. Prey.

"Theodra, I dedicate this hunt to you."

The wolf's jaws close around the scraggly creature's neck, snapping it. Prey after all.

"To you, the question. Where in the cycle do I belong?"

He carries no bow. To hunt without challenge would be disrespect, so he carries nothing but the artificial fang of his knife. More a chance than he had the years ago, but not by much.

"There is no fear, only the hunt. No fear, only the hunt."

The wolf feigned a charge, but he did not shy.

"No fear, only the hunt."

The wolf circled. There was fear. Weakness, like the night long ago. It did not miss the lunge, clamping down on his forearm. Like the night long ago. The fangs pierced his reverie, pulling him back to the here and now. There was no fear, only fury, and the start of an answer.

"Not here."

Spoiler: Moose Hunt

Cold. Impact. Breathe. Dazed, thoughts flowing as slow as cold steel beneath a hammer. Pain. Breathe. Pain from where? Arm and chest, the only spots of blinding heat against the sudden chill. Was it that cold a moment ago? Breathe.
"What was I doing?"
It seemed important, but not as important as the cold, or the pain. Breathe. Gods, it hurt to breathe. Is this death? Sounds of the wounded animal still clinging to life filter through the haze. A lot of pain, to be death. So much pain. Maybe death is close, maybe it would hurt less.

He remembers the moose. He remembers its charge, the sheer mass barreling at him in an unpleasantly symbolic parallel, a physical manifestation of the weight of the decision to hunt it. That was not a smart decision, he thinks. One that may have been the death of him.
He breathes. He breathes again. It would be so easy to stop.
He remembers the wolf. He remembers the rage that filled him, the furious denial of the past and present. He finds no rage now, just the snow and cold. The next breath. It would be so easy to stop.

He remembers his oath.
He remembers the wolf in the forest, the one he did not shy from, the one that looked at him like it recognized him. He remembers the look like it was an old friend waiting for him to join it in the forest. Breathe. There is pain, but pain means there is life. The emptiness begins to fill. Not with rage, but a determination so strong he feels it could keep his heart beating through will alone.
He has found enough that he might die happy. Friends, another family. Those that would mourn him, those that he loves. It would be short, but a good life. He is not done.

A glint catches his eye. Not snow. A feather, drifting slowly down. Curious. He does not see any birds, nor know any birds with such a silvery feather. It means something, though he does not grasp it yet. The feather drifts down, his gaze tracking it. It lands, and he sees it, but does not grasp what it means.
Is it a sign? For what? He is not the hunter here, he is not where he thought his path would lead. It was a reckless path, he thinks, or at least the speed at which he ran down it. Not brave and born of confidence, but foolish and from ignorance. He has made a grave mistake, one that may yet cost him dearly. A great price, one to waste the wisdom he has found on his back in the snow. Unless he survives.

He finally grasps the meaning. This is only failure if he stops here. She is watching his path, not in contempt for his folly, but to see if he will learn. This is a lesson, and it is not over. It is only a lesson if he survives. If he is strong enough to survive. He remembers his name.
"Get up."

It takes an eternity. The cold is close, so deep in his bones. It would be so easy, to let go of the pain. But he has friends, another family. Those that would mourn him, those that he loves. He has a life, and that life still burns.
He remembers the words said hours before, though he did not yet grasp their meaning.
"To Theodra I dedicate this hunt."
The hunt isn't over. His prey still staggers, nearer to death now than he. He isn't sure when he started standing, or how the feather got behind his ear. His prey is close, or maybe impossibly far away. He is certain of only one thing.
The hunt is not over.

Focus:
Melee: Two-handed swords
Evasion: Dodging
Stealth: Sneaking
Awareness: Hearing
Ranged: Bows
Determination: Resisting mental effects
Fortitude: Resisting physical pain
Survival: Wilderness
Grappling: Striking

 

[Lannis]

Spoiler: Old profile

General Information:


Beauty is in the relentless expression of self.
Name: Aryn
Other Names:
Titles:

Age: 22
Race: Elf
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Current Residence: Wanderer
Relationship Status: Single
Social Status: Irrelevant
Current status: Recovering from injury


Physical Appearance:

Height: 6'4
Weight: 170 lbs
Eye Color: Gray right, silver left.
Distinguishing Features: Striking, somewhat 'off' features.
Scars:
-His forearms and right calf are mangled, mauled by dogs and then a wolf.
-Arrow hole, spear slash on his left shoulder.
-A gash on his chest and hole in his left bicep from his fight with a moose.
-An unnaturally silver crescent on his left forearm, like the curve of a drawn bow.
-Bite scars around his left calf, ragged, and unnaturally silver.
-A rake along the length of his torso, healed silver
-A punctuated gash in his side, torn by claw-like fingers shoving in.
-Slashes along his legs and lower torso, as if made by running through something sharp.
-Gash beside his left eye
-Claw marks on both sides of his ribs, longer on the left.
-A gash where a claw ripped through his left eye.
-Claw marks across his back, near his spine.
-Shark bite around his left shoulder and upper chest
-Gashes, bites upon his left forearm.
- Several arrow holes in his side.
Build of Body: Lithe and wiry.
Hair Color: Blonde
Complexion: Tan
Hygiene: Surprisingly good for how much of a hobo he is. Usually smells neutral, or some element of the environment he's hunting in.
Jewelry: Trophy necklace: Wolf tooth. Silver-colored feather worn behind his ear, wolf-head pendant with Celtic-like patterns.
Voice: Cillian Murphy
Attributes:
-Strength: Low
-Dexterity: High
-Constitution: Moderate-High
-Intelligence: Moderate
-Wisdom: Moderate-High
-Charisma: Low


Personality:

"What is best in life? To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentations of their women."

Values:
-Choice is everything, suffer nothing to impede it.
-Knowledge is the only good, and ignorance the only sin.
-Everything, even ideas, must be challenged in order to grow.
-Killing should be beautiful, and it can only be beautiful if it is necessary.

Traits:
-Loyal: You shall defend your family, home, and honor.
-Instinctive: Aryn always listens to the gut feeling, even if the clues aren't consciously noted.
-Fatally Feral: Aryn sneers at the trappings of society as a smothering blanket. He is unfond of castles, walls, luxury, civil concepts, and cities in general. He prefers to sleep outside when possible.
-Passionate: Aryn wears his feelings on his sleeve, and feels them strongly.
-Lawless: Aryn believes social laws are an inferior concept to natural ones, and doesn't pay them much heed.
-Reckless: If other options have failed, Aryn will throw himself headlong into danger with little regard for his own well-being.
-Thrill Seeker: He enjoys the hunt, the danger, and doesn't mind putting himself at risk to chase that sensation.

Fears:
-Dogs: When he was younger, Aryn was mauled by a pack of dogs on his way back from a hunt. He survived the ordeal, but it left scars both physical and mental, and he does not trust dogs as a result.
-As his Ranger initiation, Aryn faced this fear by fighting a wolf in honorable combat.
-Deep Water: He has a recurring nightmare of being alone in the middle of an ocean, with no other option than to eventually tire and drown.
-Being Chained: Aryn abhors anything that limits his freedom, from laws to authority, culminating in fear of physical restraint.
-Losing his senses: He lost his hearing for scarce minutes, but the experience was enough to leave him afraid of feeling trapped in himself.

Thrills:
-Hunting: Aryn revels in the challenge and indulgence of surrendering to a baser nature.
-Fighting: He loves the contest of whirling blades and prey driven before him.
-Art: Aryn is enamored with the concept of beauty; not in a physical sense, but of actions. He places great weight in the ceremony and skillful execution of what he does.

Education: Improving thanks to those he keeps company with. Aryn is an avid learner.
Languages:
-Common: Fluent, second language. Verbal and written.
-Elvish: Fluent, native language. Verbal and written. Common and Fuvurian dialects.
-Fae: Conversational. Verbal and written.
-Rede: Conversational. Verbal and written.
General Attitude: Reserved
Religious Inclination: Theodra
General Intelligence: Sharp
General Sociability: Low
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Short Term Goals:
-Improve his skills
-Hunt the Dark Order

Long Term Goals:
-Live beautifully.
-Learn all of the languages. All of them.
-Make art.
-Kill things and then eat them
-Conquer his fears.
-Understand his faith


History:

Birthplace: Sanardu
Childhood: Raised by his mother, a huntress in Sanardu.
Teen Years: In addition to hunting, took a job as an apprentice blacksmith to earn money to aid with his mother's failing health.
Adulthood:
Family History: None to speak of, father not in the picture.


Combat:

Peaceful or violent: Violent
Weaponry: Bow, spear, knives
Combat Training: Skilled at archery, proficient with spear and shortsword.

-Solid quartz arrow, from Archon

Spoiler: Partisan

A polearm he made himself. It bears the signs of inexpert make, but it's solid enough and is detailed with much care. He has named it "Glam na Doininne," "Roar of the Storm" in Fuvurian Elvish. Coated in magic-resistant pus from the Pox Arcana.

-Given to Katherine

Spoiler: Crystal Knife

Name: Knife of Memories
Physical Description: A long dagger composed of translucent silver crystal.
Ability: When someone is struck with the knife, they lose a portion of their memories. A thought, entirely up to the player of the character who was stabbed. It's essentially random - is it something extremely relevant to the situation, or what they ate for breakfast when they were seven?
Attuned to: Aryn

Spoiler: Knife

-Some real Elf shit.

-Dirk, a gift from Damien

-Scavenged falchion, from Jaden
-Poignard, from Jaden
-Mace used at Breakwater, from Wolfgang

-Carved hawk pendant, a gift from Aelyth

Training & Skills:

Archery: Talented Adept
Hunting: Adept
Spearmanship: Journeyman-Adept
Fisticuffs: Novice
-Had a lesson with Karsten, who taught him the basics
Smithing: Adept
Drawing/Art: Journeyman
-Drawing of undead pigmen at the portal: Excellent, burned
-Hare-fur mittens: Well done
-Portrait on leather: Well done.



Other Trivia:

Occupation: Paladin
Hobbies/Pastimes: Stargazing, birdwatching, drawing
Favorite Colors: Forest green, cream
Pets:
-Airing the bat: A gift from Bennett. Aryn has no idea where he is, which in his opinion makes it the perfect pet.

"There is only one unforgivable lie. That is the lie that says, this is the end, you are the conqueror, you have achieved it and now all that remains is to build walls higher and shelter behind them. Now, the lie says, the world is safe."

Relationships:

Relevant Family Members: Mother, Leliana. Sister, Rose.
Romantic Interests:

Relations:

Theodra:
Theodra | The goddess is not wholly as he expected. He thought she would be harsh and indifferent, one that watches over the natural cycle from above with no care for its minutiae. He did not expect such guidance, or aid in a dark hour. He is blessed to be seen by one so beautifully pure.
Eivora | Aryn assumes her to be some form of vessel for the Goddess, but is unsure how independent the woman is. He finds her presence comforting as an extension of Theodra's.

Bloodlust:
Bloodlust | It whispers dark things and ever thirsts for violence. The latter he does not find disagreeable, and the former may be reasoned with. Aryn refuses to consider that it may be a problem.

Kin:

Good Friends:
Wolfgang | "He died a man, a mortal, uncompromising in character. He died beautifully, full of love. I can think of no eulogy more fitting."
Lothaire | An uncomplicated man, a fellow hunter. Aryn trusts him to watch his back.
Katherine | The strangest queen he knows, but this is perhaps why he likes her. He enjoys her propensity for violence.
Azalea | Familiar, kind, if not terribly exciting for his interests these days. An old friend.


Friends:
Richard | Aryn finds him to be a reliable sort, even if he doesn't understand his relationships.
Damien | A bug person. Aryn questions his judgement.
Niko | One of the very few people that asks interesting questions. Aryn thinks he has entirely too much respect for orderly proceedings, but enjoys his company nonetheless.
Asher | The revelation that his bloodlust was manufactured was somewhat disappointing, though mostly for the implication that it is no longer there.

New Friends:
Archon | He's alright, for a giant statue.
Milah | He doesn't completely trust her on the basis of her being a bug person, but perhaps not all bug people are bad. She has been helpful enough on their recent endeavors.
Helena | Direct. Hedonistic. An occasional indulgence.
Samael | More taciturn than Helena, but similarly inclined.
Emily | Direct, but less intriguing. Soft.
Doggett | Soft, but not without vigor.
Rook Corvus | Earnest, if sometimes misguided.
Kopii | Friendly, and eager to help.

Not Really Friends:


Not Friends:
Strange, Know | Both fall under his definition of "bad news" to varying degrees.
The Dark Order | Craven, senseless people.



Major Events:

Storm's Landing Slums Fire: This was Aryn's first memorable time experiencing destruction and suffering on a large scale. The images of terribly burned people, unable to die, were haunting and he holds a cold anger towards those responsible. He does not know who is, for he can't read the bounty poster.

Diplomacy with Archon: Aryn was alarmed by the willingness of so many to pledge to a greater power at sweet words and the promise of eternal undeath. He believes Archon showed them something very important in its willingness to throw people off cliffs, a warning that most seemed blind to.
He is confident that removing the concept of needing to survive is anathema to Theodra's beliefs, and that signing our fate to Archon's benevolence is a foolish idea.

Fighting Strange: They are not invincible. They are powerful, but they can bleed.

Burning and Blighting of Queensport: This filled Aryn with a greater fury than the fire in the slums. He has resolved to hate the Dark Order, and sate his feeling by hunting them down.

Archery Competition: Nine of ten, the tenth inches off. Aryn was reassured that he won, but unsatisfied with not winning the title as well.

Hunting Cedlas: Aryn is unsure if either of the men he shot really deserved to be shot. Aryn found the pure primal thrill of the hunt, of each predatory instinct activated, to be thus incomparable and struggles with the moral implications and what it was about this hunt that made it so.

Blackrush: A bad time. Caught up in the war machine, Aryn felt like one of so many sheep trapped between closing jaws. No ill came of him, but he has a great distaste for how the civilized folk fight.

Hunting the Dark Order: Aryn finds himself dissatisfied. The hostages were freed, some of the Order captured, but he found no joy in it. It was not a hunt, there was no thrill.

 

[Charybdis]

who

 

[Lannis]

+Updated relations

 

[Archbishop]

I can hear the drums of battle calling. Time to stand with the battle brother as the end times roll over us like waves in the ocean. They splash against the rocks, but we do not budge. We lean on each other for support. We will rage against this storm. Let them come.

 

[NIAH]

I can hear the drums of battle calling. Time to stand with the battle brother as the end times roll over us like waves in the ocean. They splash against the rocks, but we do not budge. We lean on each other for support. We will rage against this storm. Let them come.

hwat

 

[Archbishop]

hwat

Relation is BATTLE BROTHER. Felt like being poetic with it.

 

[NIAH]

Relation is BATTLE BROTHER. Felt like being poetic with it.

OH!! That makes way more sense. I hadn't noticed that

 

[DizPanda]

Raeyna | Sadist

Lmao, he knows the dark truth...time for a huntin'. JK. XD

 

[Lannis]

+Minor updates. I haven't actually decided what this guy looks like, so we'll have a new picture of a dubiously male elf every month.

 

[Charybdis]

+Minor updates. I haven't actually decided what this guy looks like, so we'll have a new picture of a dubiously male elf every month.

mighty morphing

 

[Lannis]

mighty morphing

It's not even an elf this time

 

[Paint]

add otto

 

[Lannis]

add otto

Added Otto

 

[Lannis]

Just went and redid the whole thing

+ new weapon art

 

[Elz]

Me like.

 

[BoredBrit]

where the heckings is uriel.

 

[Squidziod]

Nice.

 

[Lannis]

+more new weapon art