Post/Author/DateTime	Post
scaryfroman 10-23-04, 08:08 PM	Looking for some imput. It is an eberron character, but that shouldn't interfere much. I am looking to polish out some details, especially with personality. Any opinions? -------------------------------------------------------------- When Ainrik was born in the Blade desert in 881YK, the Keepers of the Past named his ancestor as Ordal Wehna — a rebel elf leader murdered by drow still serving the giants — a dark omen for Ainrik's future. He was always told to keep wary, seek the whole truth, and to be especially careful of his own instincts. Ainrik grew up knowing not only his blood relatives but the rest of the 200 elves in his warband as family. During the Last War, this warband was hired to fight for Cyre, proving itself as a talented cavalry unit. (Later, part of Cyre was annexed, creating the new country of Valenar for the elves in 956. The warband continued fighting against Karrnath, this time for their own country.) In 962YK, the warband traveled near the southern border of Karrnath, to help fight an unknown, "elite" Karrnathi force. The revered elders of the Valaes Tairn had seen a mark of black approaching through a bright light from above, and a single figure running out to meet them, head on. The leaders of his warband had been puzzled by this vision, and had decided that meeting the Karrnathi in battle was the way that it must be. One fateful starless night, when the ring of Siberys shone to light the desert, Ainrik set out accompanying his father on a scouting mission. He soon became tired though, and was consumed in watching a shining bird across the desert sky, watching its graceful movements to and fro, riding currents of desert air. After losing the bird behind a spire, he walked slowly back to his warband’s cliffside encampment. Ainrik lay down, looking up at the glowing belt of shards circling high above. The soft twinkling of light high above slowly lulled him to sleep as he relaxed in the pleasant desert air. He awoke suddenly to the clashing of steel upon steel, steel upon bone, and bone upon flesh. Looking over the edge of the cliff he laid on, he saw an army of dark, sharp shapes. Ainrik jumped up, and ran as fast as he could towards the army of dark shapes, feeling his ancestor’s blood running through his veins. As he approached, he saw that the dark shapes were not living men, but the risen dead, with the symbol of Karrnath emblazoned on their armor. He pulled his crude curved sword from his belt and ran towards them, running over the dead bodies of elves and undead alike. Only twelve of the 200 elves in his warband still remained, fighting a losing battle against thousands of zombies and skeletons. He dodged the blows of undead while running towards his exhausted allies. When he reached them, the enemy stopped fighting and backed off, ten feet from the cluster of elves. The Valaes Tairn also ceased fighting, for they, unlike the dead, could only fight for so long. The mass of undead split into a perfect channel, allowing a masked figure to approach Ainrik’s allies. “Surrender, elves, and perhaps Karrnath will allow your race to survive.” The man said in a voice that was oddly familiar to Ainrik. One elf raised his scimitar, and charged the masked figure with the last of his strength. The man raised his arm, and Ainrik instinctively fell to the ground as the six remaining Valenar warriors were impaled with hundreds of arrows. The masked man approached the pile of dead and looked down upon them, removing his mask, and revealing his true nature. Ainrik stared up through his fallen comrades' bodies, surprised by the face he saw. It was none other than his father. Tashrik’s eyes stared at him with an unnatural look, piercing into the depths of his soul. His father raised a spear, obviously intent on driving it through Ainrik’s heart. Tashrik kicked off a body and saw his son’s face. He seemed locked for a moment between killing his son, and going away. As Ainrik looked into his father’s eyes, he saw a struggle, as if two people were fighting for Ainrik’s life. His father dropped the spear, then replaced his mask and turned around, mounting a horse that Karrnath’s undead servants had brought. He left, and the undead followed him, swarming around piles of casualties. Ainrik passed out a few moments later. He came to when a flash of darkness cruised over his shut eyes. Opening his eyelids, the same shining bird circled in his field of vision, then flew off, away from the blinding sun. He whispered a prayer of thanks to the bird for saving his life a second time. When he got up, pushing the dead away from him, he saw that he was not the only survivor. His mother’s horse, Ashaad, lay on the ground a few feet from him, licking wounds on its thigh. He ripped a piece of cloth from his tunic to bandage the horse, then mounted it and began the slow journey back towards Taer Valaestas. They marched for what seemed like many days, some riding, and some walking, over dunes, dried seas, and stone wastelands. On the tenth day, he finally collapsed, falling from the saddle, and hitting the searing, painful sand. He awoke to water splashing across his face and saw the faces of what definitely were elves, but unlike any he had seen before. Their faces were adorned with black and white paint, appearing as if they were more skeletons than elves. They helped Ainrik recover, then told him who they were: travelers from the island continent of Aerenal, returning from Karrnath after a failed attempt to convince Kaius III to not use the unholy dead troops. They took Ainrik and his horse with them back to the elves’ homeland of Aerenal, where he finished the rest of his “childhood.” Although he trained with the deathguard and the Aerenal Valaes Tairn, he never felt at home there, and when he came of age he left the island with nothing but the clothes on his back and his ancestral weapon, the double scimitar. Now he travels among the nations of Khorvaire, both running from his past and searching for what actually happened that eventful day, and for his revenge, on the leaders of Karrnath as well as his father. Ainrik is generally very serious, having lost the last of his childhood during the war. He is very wary of starless nights, as well as when the ring of Siberys is especially bright. Having been taught by the elves of Aerenal, he is generally very polite to others, especially elves. He hopes to someday slay Kaius III of Karrnath for unleashing such a plague upon the world. He loves the thrill of riding horses, especially the one he rode on the day of the massacre, Ashaad. That horse is near the end of its life, but is still living in Aerenal. The elves there tell him that Ashaad's foal is near adulthood, and as soon as he can get the money together, he will have Ashaad II shipped to the mainland. He harbors an extreme hate for undead though, and he will not trust or work with anyone who works or is associated with them. He wishes to travel to Xen'Drik to learn of his great warrior heritage, and of his ancestor Ordal Wehna. Ain'rik generally wears long flowing brown robes with gold trim. Over his robes is an old, discolored chainmail shirt that he tries to keep shiny, but is unable to. He carries a large pouch at his side, a bow over his shoulder, and a large, vicious looking weapon on his back. His face is generally covered to avoid dust, but within a building, he removes it, showing a young, attractive face.
Piuro 10-27-04, 04:55 AM	I must say, young padawan, im impressed. I really like it, though at some ponts it just screams cliche, especially the masked figure being his father... LUKE... I especially like the part about Ordal dying... yah, that does it for me. Though, I really think haveing another dead serious character is a bad idea, because the way you roleplay gets ****-annoying sometimes, try a lighthearted character.