Post by dragonhearted on Oct 5, 2015 22:31:10 GMT
Name: Kian Lethalus
Age: 21
Gender: goes by he/him, agender
Race: Half-Elf
Nationality: Tevinter
Class: spirit healer
Background:
Kian was born into Qarinus, in the Tevinter Imperium, to an elven servant of a magister. His mother was kind and soft, despite the low pay and substandard living conditions they had. She taught him to play the panflute, and worked hard so he would have enough to eat. He would often play with other elven children, often wondering why their parent(s) were not paid like his mother. If not with the children or his mother or human father, a woodcutter in the slums market, he could be seen in the many libraries of the city, teaching himself to understand tomes twice the thickness of his arm.
Kian discovered his magic at the age of ten, when he found a wounded kitten and managed to fix its broken leg. Having been surrounded by magic all his life, he had a pretty good grasp of how he had healed it, but knew no magister would take on an elven apprentice. He'd have to learn on his own. When he told his father, as his mother had passed from consumption not a year before, his father went out and tried to find a way for him to learn. Finding nothing, his father sent him to the Free Marches and to a Dalish clan they knew was in the area. The journey was harrowing, slavers and raiders alike haunting the path there. He managed to make it to the clan, and the Keeper and First were willing to teach him. He found he had great skill in healing, able to fix the nastiest of wounds. The Dalish taught him all the could of the healing arts, and how to defend and attack with his magic. He grew fond of the clan, traveling with them for several years. He and his father kept in touch by letter, and his father seemed overjoyed that he was doing so well. He learned woodcarving, sewing, and elvhen history from the clan, also going out with packs of hunters and healing any wounds they received.
While the clan was traveling through Nevarra, almost nine years later, Kian received word that his father had fallen ill. He bid the clan goodbye, knowing that they would move soon and it would be nigh impossible to find them again if he left. The clan's First gave him a fine elven dagger as a parting gift, and the Keeper gave him a simple staff made of maple. He then headed back to Tevinter, running from rather then fighting any hostile forces he encountered on the way. When he reached his childhood home, he discovered that his father had been poisoned by the magister he served, as he no longer wanted a paid servant. Furious, he challenged the magister, but grew frightened at the waves of blood magic and powerful spells the magister threatened him with. He fled, the magister's laugh echoing in his ears.
Kian hid in the forests out of shame, his father's weak and pale face and the magister's taunts and laughter stuck in his mind. He resigned himself to a life of loneliness, not wanting anyone to learn of his cowardice. He avoided city and village alike unless it was to buy food or supplies, having learned from his own failures that it was better to run and keep running, not stand, fight, and die. He would often take odd jobs in near towns for coin, never staying long enough for people to learn more than his name before he'd vanish again.
Personality:
Kian is very flighty, and when he is alone, he would rather run and disappear than stay and fight. However, if he has someone at his back, he will not abandon them for his own survival.
Kian has a lot of self loathing from his failure to avenge his father, and is not very confident in himself.
However, he is gentle and kind, healing whoever he comes across.
He is very friendly, but stumbles over his words.
Despite his timidity and fears, he would toss himself in front of a wounded friend without a hesitation.
He loves animals, and has a black kitten companion.
He finds solace in nature, and feels out of place in the city.
He likes music and ruins, and still plays the panflute.
He dislikes crowded places and people who hurt others.
His greatest fear is growing close to someone only to watch them die.
Appearance:
Kian is slightly taller than the average elf due to his human blood, with warm brown skin and vivid blue eyes. He has long, braided black hair, and his face is angular and somber. His ears are small, but pointed. He is of lanky stature, and can be seen in a light chainmail undershirt with a light blue tunic, tucked into black breeches with worn brown boots. He wears leather armguards and has his panflute around his neck on a leather cord. He wears a simple ring made of wood that amplifies his healing, and a simple black travel cloak in colder weather.
Sample:
Kian took a deep breath, the scent of the woods lingering in his lungs as he exhaled. He had to go to the village for supplies today, and to check on that elven girl whom he had treated for pneumonia. He followed the worn dirt path to the farm the girl lived at, gently knocking on the heavy wooden door. "One minute!" Called a voice, and the door opened to reveal an older elven lady with graying hair. "Oh! Healer! Come in, come in!" Kian was ushered inside, struggling against his awkwardness at the warm welcome. "I take it Ilanni is healing?" He said softly, and the older woman nodded. "She is! All thanks to you, dear child." Kian managed a small smile, unused to such an enthusiastic greeting. "I'm glad I could help her. She seems like a gentle heart." The older woman beamed at him, before putting two silver in his hand. Kian looked at her, eyes wide. "I shouldn't- You need this. The harvest isn't doing well." The elven mother smiled gently. "You need it as well. You're doing the Maker's work, dear child."
IC:
Hugging: go for it! He'll stiffen and blush and hide his face. It'll be adorable.
Kissing: Sure! He might get even more flustered.
Flirting: Yes, but he might be oblivious to the intent of the words.
Fighting: Sure. He's not very good at it though.
Injuring: Sure, just nothing permanent. Or torturous.
Killing: Please don't. D:
Telepathy: I don't see why not.
Offensive topics: animal death, sexual assault, or ableism.
Age: 21
Gender: goes by he/him, agender
Race: Half-Elf
Nationality: Tevinter
Class: spirit healer
Background:
Kian was born into Qarinus, in the Tevinter Imperium, to an elven servant of a magister. His mother was kind and soft, despite the low pay and substandard living conditions they had. She taught him to play the panflute, and worked hard so he would have enough to eat. He would often play with other elven children, often wondering why their parent(s) were not paid like his mother. If not with the children or his mother or human father, a woodcutter in the slums market, he could be seen in the many libraries of the city, teaching himself to understand tomes twice the thickness of his arm.
Kian discovered his magic at the age of ten, when he found a wounded kitten and managed to fix its broken leg. Having been surrounded by magic all his life, he had a pretty good grasp of how he had healed it, but knew no magister would take on an elven apprentice. He'd have to learn on his own. When he told his father, as his mother had passed from consumption not a year before, his father went out and tried to find a way for him to learn. Finding nothing, his father sent him to the Free Marches and to a Dalish clan they knew was in the area. The journey was harrowing, slavers and raiders alike haunting the path there. He managed to make it to the clan, and the Keeper and First were willing to teach him. He found he had great skill in healing, able to fix the nastiest of wounds. The Dalish taught him all the could of the healing arts, and how to defend and attack with his magic. He grew fond of the clan, traveling with them for several years. He and his father kept in touch by letter, and his father seemed overjoyed that he was doing so well. He learned woodcarving, sewing, and elvhen history from the clan, also going out with packs of hunters and healing any wounds they received.
While the clan was traveling through Nevarra, almost nine years later, Kian received word that his father had fallen ill. He bid the clan goodbye, knowing that they would move soon and it would be nigh impossible to find them again if he left. The clan's First gave him a fine elven dagger as a parting gift, and the Keeper gave him a simple staff made of maple. He then headed back to Tevinter, running from rather then fighting any hostile forces he encountered on the way. When he reached his childhood home, he discovered that his father had been poisoned by the magister he served, as he no longer wanted a paid servant. Furious, he challenged the magister, but grew frightened at the waves of blood magic and powerful spells the magister threatened him with. He fled, the magister's laugh echoing in his ears.
Kian hid in the forests out of shame, his father's weak and pale face and the magister's taunts and laughter stuck in his mind. He resigned himself to a life of loneliness, not wanting anyone to learn of his cowardice. He avoided city and village alike unless it was to buy food or supplies, having learned from his own failures that it was better to run and keep running, not stand, fight, and die. He would often take odd jobs in near towns for coin, never staying long enough for people to learn more than his name before he'd vanish again.
Personality:
Kian is very flighty, and when he is alone, he would rather run and disappear than stay and fight. However, if he has someone at his back, he will not abandon them for his own survival.
Kian has a lot of self loathing from his failure to avenge his father, and is not very confident in himself.
However, he is gentle and kind, healing whoever he comes across.
He is very friendly, but stumbles over his words.
Despite his timidity and fears, he would toss himself in front of a wounded friend without a hesitation.
He loves animals, and has a black kitten companion.
He finds solace in nature, and feels out of place in the city.
He likes music and ruins, and still plays the panflute.
He dislikes crowded places and people who hurt others.
His greatest fear is growing close to someone only to watch them die.
Appearance:
Kian is slightly taller than the average elf due to his human blood, with warm brown skin and vivid blue eyes. He has long, braided black hair, and his face is angular and somber. His ears are small, but pointed. He is of lanky stature, and can be seen in a light chainmail undershirt with a light blue tunic, tucked into black breeches with worn brown boots. He wears leather armguards and has his panflute around his neck on a leather cord. He wears a simple ring made of wood that amplifies his healing, and a simple black travel cloak in colder weather.
Sample:
Kian took a deep breath, the scent of the woods lingering in his lungs as he exhaled. He had to go to the village for supplies today, and to check on that elven girl whom he had treated for pneumonia. He followed the worn dirt path to the farm the girl lived at, gently knocking on the heavy wooden door. "One minute!" Called a voice, and the door opened to reveal an older elven lady with graying hair. "Oh! Healer! Come in, come in!" Kian was ushered inside, struggling against his awkwardness at the warm welcome. "I take it Ilanni is healing?" He said softly, and the older woman nodded. "She is! All thanks to you, dear child." Kian managed a small smile, unused to such an enthusiastic greeting. "I'm glad I could help her. She seems like a gentle heart." The older woman beamed at him, before putting two silver in his hand. Kian looked at her, eyes wide. "I shouldn't- You need this. The harvest isn't doing well." The elven mother smiled gently. "You need it as well. You're doing the Maker's work, dear child."
IC:
Hugging: go for it! He'll stiffen and blush and hide his face. It'll be adorable.
Kissing: Sure! He might get even more flustered.
Flirting: Yes, but he might be oblivious to the intent of the words.
Fighting: Sure. He's not very good at it though.
Injuring: Sure, just nothing permanent. Or torturous.
Killing: Please don't. D:
Telepathy: I don't see why not.
Offensive topics: animal death, sexual assault, or ableism.
