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Erthe Hunzrin, Slave

Started by Zero, January 24, 2014, 11:10:58 AM

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Zero

BASIC INFORMATION

Full name: Erthe [air-thay] Hunzrin
Nickname(s) or Alias: Slave
Gender: Male
Age: 57
Height: 6' 6"
Weight: 237 lbs
Race: Drow/Elf
Residence: Wherever his master lives
Occupation: Slave, bodyguard, pit-fighter, smith
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Nationality: None
Relationship Status: Single

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE
To those who have seen drow there can be no doubt that Erthe has the blood of dark elves in him, but equally obvious is the fact that his blood is mixed. Ashen grey skin is too light for a pureblood, but too dark to be of light elven descent. The soft crimson glow of his eyes is another dead giveaway to his drow blood. The last trait that seals his drow ancestry is the pale, straight hair, which is only slightly off-white in the greyscale.

Erthe has strong, masculine features beginning with a square jaw, heavy brow, deep-set eyes, and a sharp, hooked nose that is slightly crooked from being broken. As one might expect his ears are long and pointed, with two small steel hoops near the tip of each ear. His hair is cut in choppy bangs near the front, which reach down to his chin, while the back is kept shorter and spiky. Unusual for an elf, he has a small bit of hair on his chin that follows his jaw in a thin line all the way to his hair that matches the rest of the pale strands on his head.

For musculature, the slave is built like a tank. Tall with broad shoulders and a deep barrel chest, the muscles ripple along his body. A long life as a fighter and hard laborer has toned him for strength while his elven blood keeps him nimble and quick. In fact he has taken many opponents by surprise, them not realizing someone so large could be so light on their feet. His limbs are thick and muscled, ending in large, rough hands and feet.

The last things of note to mention is the myriad of scars that mar otherwise smooth grey flesh. As a pit fighter Erthe has accumulated quite a collection of permanent "trophies" from his many "victories". There are some from the bite of the whip as well; his entire back is just a blanket of overlapping stings from the teeth of a whip - whether from a zealously cruel master or as an indication of excessive disobedience is impossible to say.

His right side holds a jagged, semi-circular scar from having a spear driven all the way through him, the exit wound is visible on his back if you look close enough through the numerous angry lines. There is a long, thin slash across his chest from a blade, and another that literally cuts from navel to nose. On his left forearm there looks to be a scar from a nasty bite, and there are claw marks permanently etched across his left thigh and from left shoulder diagonally to almost right hip.

As a slave his clothing and gear generally varies from owner to owner. Erthe has had periods in his life where he was permitted little more than a loincloth and once was even fancily dressed as a manservant. Currently he has dark grey woolen trousers, a light grey linen shirt, and black leather jerkin, boots, cloak, and bracers.


PERSONALITY
The only time you're going to see Erthe in a hurry to do anything is in the heat of battle. Outside of the pits the drow is slow to act or speak. He simply plods along like a tired old mule. For all the power and size he possesses, the dark elf moves and speaks with great care, grace, and caution. People have mistakenly considered him to be slow of mind or dim-witted because of his general lack of quickness about his manner.

This couldn't be further from the truth. Erthe is uneducated, which is pretty common for a slave, especially a slave bred and trained for a life of fighting – or dying. This does not make him stupid in the slightest. Perhaps he is unintelligent by standard measures – he can't read or write to perform tests or read books – but his mind is quite sharp. Puzzles and problem solving come easily and readily, in fact he loves the little metal blacksmith puzzles and plays with them when possible.

Because of his quiet nature and general coolness in attitude towards others, people have also judged him to be aloof and perhaps even snobbish. Because he is not open and chatty they decide prematurely that the drow is cold and uncaring. This is not the case at all. Yes, he remains distant from others, but considering the life he has always lived, the only way to exist that he knows, forming bonds or relationships is just not something he is eager to do. As a slave, the only friends he can make are other slaves, people he can be ripped from without a care and in an instant. Why open his heart to such wrenching loss?

To truly get to the core of Erthe, to really discover who he is, and how he views himself, you would have to dig deep and hard. When you got there, you would ultimately find a quiet, soft-spoken soul that wishes for a simple life, making an honest living as a smith, and filling his world with family, happiness, and honor. What more could any man want? Instead he endures a life full of pain, suffering, violence, and death. Each fight he wins is one more murder laid at his feet, though those that force him to fight don't see it as such, in his heart that is exactly what he sees himself as – a murderer.


SKILLS

Talents/skills: 
Other than being bred specifically as a killing machine – and being good at it – Erthe is good at working with metal. Blacksmith, silversmith, goldsmith, doesn't make a great difference. Because of his strength and endurance, it is nothing for the drow to stand at an anvil next to a blazing forge and swing a hammer all day.

Blades, horseshoes, hinges, tools, he can craft the largest items, but also is surprisingly good at creating delicate work as well with silver and gold. Because of his large size and strength, people are often surprised to find how well-controlled all that power is. He could easily crush something in those huge hands, but they can also be put to use for delicate and gentle tasks. Chains, jewelry, and little blacksmith puzzles are all things he can craft with deft precision.

Erthe learned to tend the wounded and sick, partially from necessity. Studying medicine has helped him survive through the years of grievous wounds and ill-treatment. His gentle care also saved more than a few of his fellow slaves through the years.
Magic Abilities:
Erthe has no innate magical tendencies.


COMBAT

Peaceful or aggressive attitude? Aggressive
Fighting skills/techniques: Blademaster and hand-to-hand
Special skills:
Weapon of choice (if any): Sword, occasionally with a shield
Weaknesses in combat: Takes unnecessary risks
Strengths in combat: Extremely strong and fast


FAMILY, FRIENDS AND FOES

Parents names: Lauriat Twinblade, Drada Hunzrin
Are parents alive or dead? Dead
Is the character still in contact with their parents? No
Siblings? Relationship with siblings? Unknown
Other Relatives: Unknown
Partner/Spouse: None
Children: None
Best Friend: None
Other Important Friends: Tara Servile (ex-lover)
Acquaintances: None
Pets: None
Enemies? Why are they enemies? None

BACKSTORY
Both of Erthe's parents were slaves. Not just any slaves, but ones used to entertain their masters and the masses with blood sport. Because both gained a margarine of success their master decided to breed the pair and see if another winner would come of the two champions. While Drada was pulled from the pits once confirmed pregnant, Lauriat was not given such a luxury and was finally brought down in a match with a werewolf. Losing meant death, so Lauriat died before even knowing if his son or daughter would be born healthy.

Drada gave birth on a cold winter morning to a son. From the beginning she had been against the child and the breeding. She was drow, and the male they had paired her with was of the light-skinned tree-lovers. Bestowing the name Erthe to her newborn, she had no further wish to involve herself with the squalling babe. Another nursing slave was given the child to keep alive, but there was no love for him, only milk to keep starvation at bay. By the time he was three years old, his mother had also fallen in the pits, though he had not truly known her, he grieved.

Erthe was a robust boy, right from the beginning. When he was still too young to hold a weapon, the drow child was tasked with smaller things - carrying water for the slaves and servants, or carry wood to full the cook fires. As he grew he was taught how to care for various weapons.  It was when he was seven that he began to train with swords, maces, and axes. They let him pick up a shield as well, but mostly they groomed him for heavy two-handed weapons to take advantage of his massive size and raw power.

He had another interest as he grew and was honed into a weapon for his master's entertainment. Learning to smith was what he did in his "free" time, rather than play with the other children, who took every chance they could to goof off and just be kids. In fact, he never showed interest in playing with the other children, not even when he was really young and his distant and reserved nature only deepened as he aged.

By the time he was thirteen Erthe could best his teachers by purely overpowering them with the ferocity of his onslaught. Since he was also by this time as large as the grown men around him – and still growing – they put him into the pits for the first time. They didn't care that to lose was to die, and they were sending a child into such carnage. The drow fought three rounds, and each time he beat down his opponents with desperate fury, overwhelming the more seasoned fighters with his vitality, strength, and grace.

After the first day of bloodshed, to his opponents he was an unstoppable and merciless killing machine, death with a face. None could beat him down. Outside the pits, his master had to whip him viciously into submission before each fight, because he quietly rebelled with passivity and unwillingness to enter the ring. Only after being punished "enough" would Erthe force himself to face those terrified men (and occasionally women) that were forced to go against him.

It took twenty years of such beatings before Erthe finally accepted his fate as a murderer. The drow lost none of his ferocity in the ring, but he became reckless and suffered injuries more frequently. Because he was disposable, he had to tend his own wounds, he had to learn to keep himself going, because by then all the other slaves feared him, despised him for being aloof, or thought him slow of wit because of his quiet nature.

At age thirty-three he was sold to an elderly noblewoman that wished to use him as a personal guard. She dressed him up like a manservant and kept him at her side for the next four years. The old woman's granddaughter found him attractive, and for those four years they carried on an affair in secret. Well, not totally secret, the grandmother knew it was going on, but the young woman's parents were clueless. Until the old woman passed away from illness, a few months later Tara's father caught them together and immediately sold Erthe to someone he knew would use him for fighting.

The last twenty years of Erthe's life have become a blur of fights, pain, and the haunting imagines of people dying in agony at his hands. Not to mention the loss of his lover – the only friend he had ever had in this unkind world. The only thing that seems to soothe him is the rhythmic clanging of hammer on anvil. His ownership has changed hands again recently, now working for some nobleman in Serendipity.

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