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Persona Profiles

Post  Casimir on Wed Feb 18, 2009 12:37 am

I was born into a family of nine siblings, seven sisters and a younger brother, this made me the oldest son. It is common practice of my people for the eldest son and daughter to take up the profession of their respective parent. All of my sisters followed my mother's path, and as the eldest boy, my duty was to follow my father's. I remember that the people of my village called my father the Glassjaw, as he wore shards of obsidian in the skin of his jaw. My father was a weaponsmith, he forged death from wood and iron and obsidian, his personal affinity towards the volcanic glass that he wore in his face. His creations were responsible for the deaths of dozens, if not hundreds. And my mother, well, my mother was a matron. She cared for the newly born and injured, to insure that they had a chance to die from old age. My parents together were the givers and takers of life, the beginning and end of the mortal coil.
I remember training under my father, he told me that black glass would never lose it's edge and would let the blood of your enemies stain the ground much more easily then iron or wood. I also remember excelling at an early age, however, this may be my reason for my lack of memories of my family. You see, the temple of my village was always recruiting new disciples into their ranks. Recruit is the word that they used when they stole the gifted children from their families and forced them into a life studying and serving the gods. After word spread of my exceptional knowledge and understanding, the temple recruited me as they did with many before and they will continue to do.
After taking me, the first thing they told my was that my family would be taken care of as long as I worked hard and was subordinate. These words were enough for me to be diligent in my studies. I would wake up early every morning, finish my chores and other duties, and then study until I fell asleep. Some days I would even skip eating my meals, just so I could get some extra time in with the tomes and scrolls. I learned everything of the gods and what they had done for my people, of our duties to the people in service to the gods, of our history and how we got to be where we were. I learned of all of the knowledge that was available, and I still wanted more. On my twelfth birthday, I was named and initiate for my extensive research. I was the youngest disciple to ever attain the rank of initiate by four years, the previous holder of such acclaim being a young man named Dal'kladar whom was nine years my elder and now holding the rank of shaman.
As an initiate, my new duties included collecting alms from the citizens and attempting to convert those who were not already followers of our faith. As such, I was taught the arts of illusion and deception. Outside of the temple, when you saw an initiate, they were usually making clouds of flame or showers of sparks in order to awe you and display the power of the gods amongst mortals. I was taught that these feats were mundane, not magical in nature, and that anyone could do them were they to know the right powder and liquid mixtures. I was also taught how to speak in certain manners, twisting or obscuring truth in order to get what you needed, or to use guilt and fear to your own ends. We were taught this to get the most from our donations to the temple, as it was an expensive organization to maintain. Despite this, I retained my faith.
From there it only took me four years to become a shaman, where my duties then included participate the in sacrifice and undergo a ritualistic stretching in order to give my body more presence amongst my people. The sacrifice happened every harvest season, the head shamans would search the stars and cast bones to find the names of a total of a ten people over the age of sixteen. These ten people would be killed before a crowd and their blood would saturate the earth. The reason we did this was to ensure that the earth would continue to nourish us with vegetables and beast. It was a ritual performed in the name of our patron god, of whom I dare not speak his name as it is forbidden for a traitor to do such. At first all I did was dress the martyrs in their hoods and made sure they did not try to resist being given to the land, but eventually it became my duty to actually take their lives. I used a club lined with obsidian, as I still remembered my father's words. A few years after that point, I took my test to become a head shaman.
I passed the test with little difficulty, I had hardly even needed to study as I was already familiar with all of the writings the test was one. As a head shaman, I was one of only two that were next in line to become the Listener. The Listener was the leader of the temple, able to speak directly with the gods in order to carry out their will. Myself and Dal'kladar were the candidates next in line, and it did not seem far off as the Listener was an elderly man of failing health. I wanted so desperately to become the next Listener, as I had so many things to speak with the gods about. They had so much knowledge to impart, and I hungered for it as blade hungers for blood. But all I could do was wait for the gods to call for our leader so that my time would come, and so I went about my duties as normal. For two years time I tended to our leader, needing much care in his age, all the while juggling my duties of choosing names for the sacrifice and teaching the disciples and initiates. Everything was normal, everything was fine, until one morning.
Right before the harvest season, I went to the Listener's chambers to help bathe him and serve him breakfast, but to my shock it appeared as if his spirit were released in his sleep. I dressed his body in his most holy of vestments and reported of his passing to our people. We held a vigil, where a bonfire that reached the moon was burned in his honor. That night, Dal'kladar agreed that we would choose the martyrs to be sacrificed this season, and then have a vote based on our knowledge of the scriptures for who was to become the next Listener. I was filled with confidence at this point because I knew for sure that I would be the one to win this vote, and that I was the one to become the Listener.
I went to my chambers that night and gazed out the window at the stars, taking notes on what I saw and then casting bones to find names. Before the night was out, I had five names, citizens of no importance that would not be missed by the tribe. Excitement flowed my veins and I struggled to sleep that night. The next morning, Dal'kladar and I announced at mass whom the sacrifices for this season, first I read off my names, then he read his. I was taken aback by the last name he read on his list. It was mine. However, I did not show shock to the crowd, I simply smiled and bowed my head. If it were the gods who told Dal'kladar to choose me for the sacrifice, then I would gladly partake. While I would not be able to speak to the gods as the Listener, I would be able to speak to them in the afterlife. As long as I could speak with them, I would be happy.
Over the next week I prepared my body to be taken from this world. I bathed in rich oils and meditated with no fear in my heart. The morning of the sacrifice, I was approached by one of my students. She was to dress me for the sacrifice, but she entered with tears in her eyes. Through he sobs she spoke of trickery and deceit, but I placed my hands on hers and shushed her. I told her that this was the will of the gods and that she should not fear for me as I would be passing to a world full of knowledge and joy. She spoke again saying it was not the will of the gods but I put my hand over her mouth and assured her that it is the will of the gods and that nothing would stop it. I then asked if I could wear my vestments instead of the hood worn by the other martyrs. She waited before she replied, I don't know if it was to gain her composure or because she was shocked by my change of the subject, but she eventually said that I could. She looked at me for a moment, tears still in her eyes, and then left the room for me to change.
My solitude in that room is what made me a traitor, it is what damned me. I am sure that it only was a few minutes, but my mind pried at details for what seemed to be an eternity. What if my death was not the will of the gods? What if Dal'kladar did not find my name, but just used that as an excuse to get rid of me? Why else would he be so willing to compete with me in a field in which he and I both know I am superior? What if my death on this day would mean nothing, and I would not ascend to the world of the gods? This fear, this lack of conviction flooded my heart and my body was overcome. Without thinking about it or giving it any consideration, I ran. I left through the window and I ran and ran without looking back. I tried so many times to stop myself as I knew that if I could just think, even for a moment, that I could make a rational decision about it all. But my legs continued to carry me, before I knew it, the sun was down and my blood pumped like liquid flame. I slowed to a halt, and collapsed, the last thing I saw was a city in the distance.
I awoke on a cart attached to a mighty steed, there were bars, but they were wide enough that I could escape. This was obviously not my people that apprehended me. I considered squeezing out of the cart, but where would I run? I had no home to go to, and I am sure my family had long forgotten me were they not killed for my fleeing. I decided to just wait, these people could be taking me to no worse fate then my own tribe surely had waiting for me. We entered the walls of the city, the architecture made it look human to be a human city. People were shouting and throwing spoiled food at the carts, mine included. I simply ate anything that landed, which in turn resulted in more shouting, but I didn't really care as food is food.
I was released at a group of tables with older men and paper, they spoke common to all of the species being released and ridiculed them for not understanding. I knew nothing of the language, so the man asking me questions was frustrated and rude. He repeated one word over and over, his body language letting me know he hated his job. I heard a man at the table next to me respond to the word that was being repeated to me, so I replied with the same word, 'Casimir'. He smiled for a moment and wrote down what I said, slapping the table and saying something that I am sure was offensive. He then spoke a few more words, repeating them over and over. I did not hear what the human at the table right of me responded with, so I did not know what to say. An orc from the table to the left must have heard my troubles because he stopped the man and spoke to me in my own language, what is your family's name? I could not remember though, the only thing I remembered was what they called my father, so I told the orc this. He then translated it to the man who recorded his words on the paper. I found out later that my name was now recorded as Casimir Glassjaw, which worked well as I needed a new one.
While my first thought was that I was being taken a slave, I was relieved to find it was actually a work program. Though we were not payed, our housing was provided for free and we were fed. Additionally, we were free to leave at any time. Most of the labor were menial things like shaping lumber and stone for housing. I had done no labor my entire adult life and had a soft and rounded body to show for it, but with time doing labor I began to trim out and harden my hands. With time, I learned that housing and food were nice to be provided for me, but it did not compare to the life I had left behind. I began to start looking for work to do in my free time, freelance jobs that could put coin in my pocket so that I could purchase frivolous things like oils and incense. I started of delivering packages until my common became good enough to hold a conversation, then I started looking into other avenues. Unfortunately, despite the blend of peoples living in the city, there was much discrimination that made it difficult for certain people to find work. I continued package running and delivering messages until I happened upon a recruitment poster on one of my routes. It read "Free Cities" and spoke of a blend of people united for a single goal, the looked excellent and there were many benefits to joining.
I decided that I did not want to risk my life and ignored the poster, finishing my route and going about my life as normal. This continued for several weeks until slumber delivered me a cryptic vision, this dream told me that I had nothing left to risk in my life. I was in hiding from my people, running from a certain doom that awaited were they ever to find me. I was alone in this world and would surely die that way unless I found some allies, a new family, one that could protect me if I were to need it. I decided that joining the Free Cities was the only way I had a chance at living, because all I was doing at the time was surviving. I gathered my things at home and packed for travel, using the money I collected to purchase some dried food and supplies so that I could meet up with the leader of this mercenary group so that I could sign up.
The journey took months, but only because I would stop in the towns. Along the way I met a group of mercenaries named the Bronze Hammer. After hearing my tale, they gave me my own blade and taught me how to use it, showing me the basic mechanics and exercising my mind for combat. They took me along on a few of their jobs during the time we were in town together, and they even gave me a small cut for my participation, and while the extra coin was nice it was nothing compared to the value of the experience I gained through working and training with them. After just over a month, we parted ways and I continued north on my journey. When I finally arrived, I located the man named Jari, a dwarf who's presence made him seem ten feet tall at the very least. I told him that I wished to join Free Cities and work under him as a mercenary, enlightening him on the trials I went through to arrive before him. He listened with silent intensity, and upon the resolution of my story, he held out his hand and said to me, "Welcome aboard." I have been fighting in the service of the dwarf since that day, finally belonging somewhere.


Last edited by Aurgelmir on Thu Feb 25, 2010 2:53 am; edited 2 times in total
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Casimir

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Re: Persona Profiles

Post  Izakd Inedikey on Wed Mar 11, 2009 6:43 am

Name: Daermon
Species: Flesh Golem
Chapter: Grim Sword
Unit: The Legion of Nai'Dul
Preferred Weapons: Pole-Axe, Club, Sword, Shield

(No picture at this time, sorry!)

Daermon lived the cursed existence of a Flesh Golem, living only to serve his master's estranged desires and experiments. For years, he worked to no end for his master's toils, until an accident took his master from him, a rather gory scene involving an old man getting caught in enormous gears that crushed him into a pulpy residue. Although Daermon hated his master, "The Master" was all that he knew, it was the only thing he could call life. Not knowing of anything his master hadn't told him, Daermon sat in his master's library and read the seemingly endless stream of books, learning of the lands and the creatures that existed in them. One day, a monstrous creature, a man of truly epic proportions, pulled Daermon from underneath the collapse of a thousand books. Ruined and worn by the many years that had passed, the stranger fixed Daermon and set him upon the lands. Quickly, Daermon was hunted by a local militia for his difference. Torn apart by the farmers and weathered soldiers, Daermon was surprised as any would be when he found himself completely intact, despite his memory. Feeling the magic in him, Daermon, having read so much, knew that he had been both cursed and blessed with Eternal Life. Searching for many a fortnight, Daermon eventually came again to that god-like man, and Daermon asked to be put into his service. Although new to the Legion of Nai'Dul, Daermon continues to do his best to please his new master.
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Izakd Inedikey

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Re: Persona Profiles

Post  pluvius ceribus on Wed Mar 11, 2009 11:25 pm

Hey Casimir. What does Aurgelmir stand for? If you explained it in your post, I am sorry. The post was kind of long and I couldn't....

keep..........WOW, what's that over there? cyclops I don't know. Now what was I talking bout? scratch

Okay, Okay. So I'm not a writer. I'm just confused confused

Please enlighten me lol!

pluvius ceribus

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Re: Persona Profiles

Post  Casimir on Thu Mar 12, 2009 12:20 am

Pluvius Ceribus wrote:What does Aurgelmir stand for?
Aurgelmir is a frost giant in Norse mythology who was killed by Odin, and his body was used to create Midgard. I chose it as my login name before I had decided on a persona name.
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Casimir

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Re: Persona Profiles

Post  Izakd Inedikey on Thu Jul 23, 2009 9:55 pm

I've been playing with the idea of being a Hobgoblin instead of Flesh Golem.
Especially with my cleaver.
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Izakd Inedikey

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Re: Persona Profiles

Post  Casimir on Fri Jul 24, 2009 9:06 pm

That sounds cool, plus it would mean that we may come from a long line of goblinoids.
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Re: Persona Profiles

Post  Izakd Inedikey on Tue Aug 04, 2009 11:45 pm

Goblinoids???
I thought it was just called Sub-Humans, or Beastmen from some sources.

I've never heard Golbinoid before. (Sounds like something from that Backugan game.)
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