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Theiryk Val'keirith

Started by Lion, February 25, 2014, 02:09:31 AM

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Lion

Prologue
+ NAME +Theiryk Val’keirith
+ ALIAS + Theiryk the Hunted
+ AGE + 34 / Appears approx. 28 -30 yrs old.
+ GENDER + Male
+ STAR SIGN + The Raven’s Claw
+ BORN + Winter’s End
+ ORIGIN + Draconi Forest
+ SPECIES + Wild Elf
+ RESIDENCE + Draconi Forest
+ OCCUPATION + Brigand / Thief / Outlaw / Vigilante / Self-proclaimed Protector of the Forest
+ COUNTENANCE + Ash Gray hair / Blue-Silver eyes
+ STATURE + 6’1” / 168 lbs.
+ SEXUALITY + Unknown


CH. I – Painting a Portrait
It would be hard to tell an elf if it weren’t for their ears, pointed and sharp, and often delicate features.  Theiryk’s face is roughly hewn and sharp around the edges, with a pointed angular nose and high cheek bones.  His eyes are hard, icy and grim and a smile would be hard-pressed to touch his lips.  Hair is long and stringy, often windblown and reaching down toward his shoulders.  At times he keeps it up, but most often, it is loose and in his face.  Though his skin is naturally swarthy, being outdoors has given him an even tan of a honeyed brown, in sharp contrast to his ash colored hair.

He is athletic in build, neither slim nor slight, nor gargantuan in size.  He has good posture and a strong but agile musculature, keeping him swift and able.  He always prefers speed and calculation, acting before his target would even know what was going on, to brute strength.  Of course, he’s come to find brute strength is handy in a pinch.

+ NOTABLE MARKS +
Theiryk, however, no longer bears the signifying mark of an elf as he once did in youth.  His ears have been cut and brutalized in the savage years of his slavery.  His left ear is slightly longer than his right.  Despite their disfigurement, his hearing is still sharp as it should be.  In addition, he has smaller scars across his right cheek and left eyebrow; his back is also riddled with scars.

CH II – Mental Make-up
A grim demeanor would be putting it lightly for an elf like Theiryk.  He has hard, untrusting eyes; they even seem most solemn at times.  Though he is young, Theiryk has seen enough cruelty to last a lifetime.  He’s perceived as a quiet man, often brooding, and will not say anything he is not willing to back up.  He’s flighty by nature, never staying in one place for too long nor does he keep company in much the same way.

He is sarcastic and opinionated and uses it to keep others at arm’s length.  At times he is aloof, even cold, in the face of grave matters.  Though he does not always speak, he is loud when he must be and unafraid to act with necessary force.  He carries with him a quiet confidence, never one to blab or boast, nor does he care to receive credit of any kind no matter his reputation.

Despite Theiryk’s seemingly cool exterior, he can have an explosive temper that can often get the better of him.  He tries his best to control it, going off on a hunt and prefers to be alone to let it blow over.  He can hold a grudge, however, as he never allows himself to forget those that have wronged him, or someone he has loved.  And it is even harder for him forgive.

+ FAITH +
Theiryk and his people have no singular known deity that they worship.  Nor was he raised on it.  He has always been more inclined to giving  honor to the Spirits, as he calls them, the guardians of the forest, and more importantly, the spirits of his ancestors.  He is not quite like his father in that regard, who has memorized their lineage and the lineage of most of their clan, but he knows the spirits of the dead always watch the living.

+ HABITS +
Theiryk is a natural outdoorsman, and prefers to stay out in the wild than to wander too close to civilization.  Small taverns out in the middle of nowhere are okay with him from time to time, but if he can, he prefers to take his supplies and survive out in the wilderness.  He has adept knowledge of which flora are good to consume, which are not, and which make deadlier poisons.  He also has a deep respect for all denizens of the animal kingdom.  He can commune with animals, in their silent tongues, and never hunts more than he has to.

CH III – Social

+ RELATIONSHIPS +
  Veris Val’keirith, Father, Chief and K’vhadak (Shaman) of Clan Vanadu
Trevon Val’keirith, Older Brother
S’viana Val’keirith, Younger Sister

CH IV – Abilities / Skills
+ WILD ELF +
A people thought to have died out long ago, Wild Elves are heard of only in stories and myth.  They are a race most taken to nature than others, and perhaps even the greater species of Elf altogether.  Indeed they are a rare breed, for they rarely interact with the so-called “civilized world” and are seen only in passing, a shadow, a glimpse, from the corner of your eye.  They are the descendants of an older Elven race, one that abruptly vanished from Le’ranna, for reasons unknown.  Some say they were killed off, destroyed by plagues, or they migrated in a mass exodus, believing men had poisoned the land.

As Wild Elves, they have a vital attachment to the forest, wilds, and the animals that reside within them.  They have little glory of the civilization that preceded them, for their cities reside in the trees and branches in the temperate forests of the Draconi, high in the treetops.  And rarely do they venture to the ground below.  Their features tend to be from light to swarthy, and they’re fair-haired people, with sharp features and lithe but powerful bodies.

By their affinity, Wild Elves are always in tune with the world around them and are most at home in the wilds.  They are one with the flora and fauna, almost literally, capable of subtleties that aid them in their survival, such as calling a rustle of leaves for distraction, asking the trees to conceal them, asking the wind to aid their arrows in flight and destination.  They may take wha they need from nature, wood, food, pelts, for their souls return to the forest in death.  They each have a designated Spirit Animal that they become when they pass on.  In life, they may take this Spirit animal as a companion, hunting with them, and commune with them better than other beasts of the wild.

Their gift lies not only with beast kind, for some Wild Elves are the bearers of ancient magics, primal in their form, steeped in the blood of their wielder.  They are unpredictable energies, calling for a price in turn for their use and any who use them are bound by this pact.  Their magics may allow them to bend nature to their will, that which allows them to vanish into woodlands without a trace, or to travel great distances on the wind in a sort of teleportation, or to project themselves while they sleep into the living world, and even to decipher the future through mystic divination.

+ ARCHER +
Though it seems using a bow and arrow is a common weapon among hunters, but Theiryk and many of his kind, the art of the bow is apart of their very existence.  Theiryk is a natural with a bow in his hands, as if it were an extension of himself.  He can hone in on an object, and shoot twice the distance of even an adept human archer.

CH V – Gear / Equipment
+ RECURVE BOW +
A bow fashioned of sinew and wych elm, it is flexible and compact, capable of being strapped to his back should Theiryk find himself in tight places.  It has a powerful counterstrain, and designed to shoot distances longer than even longbows.

DOUBLE-BLADED STAFF
A remnant taking from the personal armory of his former owner, Theiryk’s choice in close quarter’s combat is a curved staff of sorts.  Though it seems more a sword than a staff as the blades are long like a scimitars, and the curved handle is detachable from one segment to the other, turning the staff into two separate curved swords.  Theiryk is more than skilled with this weapon, having trained with it for more than two-thirds of his life.

CH VI – Reflections of the Past
Theiryk was born high in the trees of the Draconi Forest, as the second son of Chief Veris Val’keirith of the Vanadu Clan.  Wild Elf settlements were well hidden in the branches, away from prying eyes.  To say they are a private culture, is putting it lightly, for rarely if ever venture to the ground below, and rarer still do they interact with people of other races.  But Theiryk always proved an energetic and daring child and difficult for his father to keep track of.  So he was often under the watchful eye of his older brother Trevon.

Like all growing creatures, Theiryk grew curious of the world around him.  He was very young the first time he laid eyes on the world below.  It was glorious, wonderful, teeming with all the life like the stories told to him when he was just a kit.  And it wouldn’t be the last time he did either.  He saw roads and travelers and strange people that encased themselves in metal and iron.  There was indeed great life beyond the forests he knew, and little by little he wanted to see all of it.  He was young and fearless, there was nothing in this world that could harm him.

But his explorations to ground level often put him at odds with his father, who warned him of the dangers of venturing too far from the safety of the trees.  But Theiryk had been headstrong and grew careless.  He didn’t believe Veris, that evil intentions could be had in a world so wide and grand and bountiful, he couldn’t fathom why anyone would resort to cruelty and pain in something so beautiful, to rape it and kill it and leave it dying.  For he had once believed life was the greatest beauty one could ever hold.

Theiryk did not listen; he was as headstrong as his father, even moreso perhaps, and had ventured from their clan territories, far to the southern parts of the forest.  He explored all he could, documenting the trees and plants and the animals he saw, until his sight came upon a small encampment of men.  With his brother Trevon in tow, he urged him to turn back, to go home while they still had the chance, but Theiryk was hard pressed to get as close to them as he could.

Little did he know that they were slavers, camping out in the forest just a little aways from the main road.  And when they took notice of him, it was much too late.  He had fallen into a beartrap, injuring his ankle and in the heat of the moment, Trevon could do nothing but run and save himself, and the slavers were upon him.

He was sold into slavery at the age of 14, a young, lithe, and spry thing, and even moreso an unusual specimen for the market.   And he quickly caught the eye of a man named Lord Nathaniel Grigorio, an Essyrni merchant Lord that made his fortune hunting wild game, both for business and for sport.  Among his favored grounds were the Moraki Dessert, the Sehra Plains, Kishahn Jungle and even the Draconi Forest.  He grew rich in the trade of exotic trophy items from rare animals and their import/export.

When he acquired Theiryk, Grigoria saw him as the perfect gem to add to his collection.  At first he tried to train him to be a domestic slave, but Theiryk proved difficult and hard-headed and his defiance was quickly met with beatings.  From there, Grigorio began to train him for pit-fighting, and pushed him hard to win.  But when Theiryk was once put up against a black panther, before the animal could execute the kill, his eyes caught the Wild Elf’s and ceased its strike.  There was an understanding between them and neither of them died in the pit that night. Grigorio was furious, that every turn Theiryk seemed to defy him, for as many beatings as he had, the Wild Elf’s will would not break.  Yet at the revelation of his gift, another idea soon formed in the wicked mind of his master.

He would show the unruly elf just who his master was.  Escape attempts were one thing, for that Theiryk was brutally lashed, but to challenge him eternally, that Grigorio would not have. 

Theiryk’s life was more than difficult, for his master was unkind and merciless.  Even so, not every day was bleak or bloody, for he had love, or so he thought, in the niece that had come to live with Nathanus.  They grew close over time, a few words here, a passing glance, the quiet nights they shared when she tended to his wounds, and the attraction was evident between them.  Yet it was inevitable that Grigorio would discover them, and when he did, in the middle of their intimacy, it was the final straw he would stand for.

His niece was cast out, and sold into a marriage with a minor Merchant Lord.  Theiryk’s ears severed in half, disfigured and beat him within an inch of his life.  Grigorio would not kill him, no…he had a punishment but more suiting to break the foolish Wild Elf.  With a magical collar secured around his neck, to ensure that he wouldn’t escape, Theiryk was then used as a hunting tool for his master, to practice and perfect his hunting technique.  If it resulted in Theiryk’s death, he cared not, for he knew the Elf was too defiant to let himself be killed.

Theiryk was released into the wilds of the Kishahn Jungle, and Grigorio allowed his men to hunt him mercilessly, and keep any part of him they wanted for a trophy if they killed him.  Time was meaningless when he was running for his life, but in the days and weeks and soon months he survived, wounded in the traps Grigorio’s men had laid out for him.  But his master had not underestimated his resolve, and Theiryk picked off his hunters one by one.  And when all that was left was his master, he moved in for the kill.  Before he could strike, Grigorio activated the collar and sent the Wild Elf writhing in agony, pleased with his prize when at last he had broken him.

The memories would always be burned in his mind, though it seemed a blur the night it happened.  Theiryk had been planning for the moment, the time when Grigorio would have his guard down, when he would forget something, grow too comfortable in Theiryk’s weakness.  He had stolen a key and freed himself, beheading his master and setting fire to his estate.  It was a long journey then back to his homeland, from deep within the Moraki Desert.  Through dust storms and rain and tears and loneliness, at last he made it home, back to the Draconi Forest.  But he did not venture home right away.  He had spent years away, and had become a brigand of the woods, robbing travelers, and hunting the men that hat captured and enslaved him.  All he knew was anger, revenge.

Much had changed in that time, for he had been 17 years a slave, and his father had taken sick, his tribe had divided, and factions vied for control of the forests.  Veris did not welcome him back with open arms, as hurt as he was, for Trevon had been chosen as his heir, and he had known the life Theiryk had come to know, and the blood that resided on his hands. 

Theiryk wanders now, mostly without aim, though when he comes across the occasional slave trader or caravan time and again, he'’s certain to give them no mercy.  In the meantime since his estrangement from his family, Theiryk is still the Wild Elf that dared to brave the world below, and has taken it upon himself to be the protector of the forest in which he lives.




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