Looking for a little character advice. (long) [Archive] - Wizards Community

Looking for a little character advice. (long) [Archive] - Wizards Community

Post/Author/DateTime Post
scaryfroman
09-15-04, 07:25 PM I'm sure that many people have a character concept that is near and dear to thier heart. This one is mine. I have been working on him since the ECS came out, and wanted some advice on his roleplaying portions. I am using the format for the Real Adventures boards(detailed here (http://boards1.wizards.com/showpost.php?p=3169575).) He will be a second level ranger.

Ainrik was born in the Blade desert of Valenar in 881YK. The clerics of the Keepers of the Past determined that his ancestor was none other than Ordal Wehna, an elf leader in the rebellion known for being slain by a group of drow that still supported the giants. It was a dark omen for his past, present and future, and he was always told to be watchful of his instincts and not look at all truths as fact.

He grew up knowing not only his blood relatives as family, but the rest of the 200 or so elves in his warband. During the last war his warband was hired to fight for Cyre, and proved itself very well as a talented cavalry unit. In 962YK, everything changed. The Warband was sent near the southern border of Karrnath, to help fight a new unknown "elite" force of Karrnath. 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 over the conclusion, and had decided that meeting them one on one in battle was the way that it must be.

One fateful starless night, when the ring was shining and lighting up the deserts of Cyre. Ainrik followed a shining bird across the desert, watching its graceful movements to and fro, riding currents of desert air. After losing the bird behind a spire, he traveled slowly back to his warband’s encampment. Ain’rik lay down and looked 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 later 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 men, but the dead, having risen to fight again, with the symbol of Karrnath emblazoned on their armors. He pulled his crude curved sword from his belt and ran towards them, running over the dead bodies of elves and undead alike. He only saw twelve of the 200 elves in his warband still remaining, fighting a losing battle against thousands of zombies and skeletons. As he ran, he dodged the blows of undead, and ran towards his exhausted allies. When he reached them, the enemy stopped fighting, and withdrew to a ten-foot distance from the cluster of elves. The Valaes Tairn also stopped fighting, for they, unlike the dead, could only fight for so long.

The mass of undead split into a perfect channel, and allowed 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 charge the masked figure, using the last of his strength. The man raised his arm, and Ainrik instinctively fell to the ground, just 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, and was surprised by the face he saw.

It was none other than his father.

His father’s eyes stared at him with an unnatural look, piercing into the depths of his soul. His father raised a spear, with an obvious intent to drive it through Ainrik’s heart. His father kicked off a body and saw his son’s face. He seemed locked for a moment between killing his son, and going away. As he looked into his father’s eyes he saw a look of 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. He passed out a few moments later.

He came when a flash of darkness cruised over his shut eyes. Opening his eyelids, he saw the same shining bird circling around his field of vision, then flying off away from the blinding sun. He whispered a prayer of thanks to the bird, not just for now, but for saving his life a second time. When he got up, and pushed the dead away from him, he saw that he was not the only survivor. His mother’s horse, Ashaad was lying on the ground a few feet from him, licking wounds on its thigh. He ripped a piece of cloth from his tunic and bandaged the horse, then he mounted it and they 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 of nothing he had seen before. They had faces adorned with black and white paint, appearing as if they were more skeletons than elves. They helped him recover, then told them of who they were. 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 him and his horse with them, and traveled 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 it as he seeks to find what actually happened that eventful day, and to seek revenge on the leaders of Karrnath, as well as his father.

Ain'rik 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 word 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, and 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 in 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.

I am open to almost all input. this is more or less my fifth revision.
Dauntless
09-15-04, 08:33 PM Minor catch:

Valenar didn't exist until 956 YK, when Aerenal mercenaries annexed a portion of southern Cyre as their own.
Serpentine
09-15-04, 08:36 PM What do you think you're missing or need help on, scaryfroman?
scaryfroman
09-16-04, 06:16 PM Thanks Dauntless. how do you think i should handle that issue? any ideas? I suppose he could have been a member of the Valaes Tairn in Aerenal who migrated during the last war.

Serpentine: i was looking for discrepancies like that, as well as just general story critique. as if it seemed to be enough for a good backstory.
Serpentine
09-16-04, 09:37 PM Okay. First off, I like how evocative some of the descriptions are, especially in the desert. It's a good backstory for someone destined for important things.

The only problem I see is that the story makes some disjointed leaps, particularly with regards to Ainrik's family. Where is his mother? Was his father supposed to be in the battle with them?

Have you figured out why it was that his father betrayed the elves? (It doesn't need to be in the story, or told to anyone.)

Here are some copy edits for the story.

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.

He 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 followed 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.

(Father's Name?)

(Name?)’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. (Name?) 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.
scaryfroman
09-17-04, 08:22 PM Thank you so much. That's really great.

as for your points, yes i have decided what happened to his father.

here is a second paragraph that i will insert:

His father, Tashrik, had been proud of his son’s ancestry. His own ancestor was known for bargaining with Quori during the rebellion, and was something he rarely talked about. His mother, Tegene, had been raised in Shae Cairdal and was not a warrior. She was always puzzled over her son’s behavior, but was proud of him when she left him and his father to return to Aerenal in 960. She was not a warrior.

Here is an edited paragraph later that I used to explain more of his father:

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.

Post/Author/DateTime	Post
scaryfroman 09-15-04, 07:25 PM	I'm sure that many people have a character concept that is near and dear to thier heart. This one is mine. I have been working on him since the ECS came out, and wanted some advice on his roleplaying portions. I am using the format for the Real Adventures boards(detailed here (http://boards1.wizards.com/showpost.php?p=3169575).) He will be a second level ranger. Ainrik was born in the Blade desert of Valenar in 881YK. The clerics of the Keepers of the Past determined that his ancestor was none other than Ordal Wehna, an elf leader in the rebellion known for being slain by a group of drow that still supported the giants. It was a dark omen for his past, present and future, and he was always told to be watchful of his instincts and not look at all truths as fact. He grew up knowing not only his blood relatives as family, but the rest of the 200 or so elves in his warband. During the last war his warband was hired to fight for Cyre, and proved itself very well as a talented cavalry unit. In 962YK, everything changed. The Warband was sent near the southern border of Karrnath, to help fight a new unknown "elite" force of Karrnath. 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 over the conclusion, and had decided that meeting them one on one in battle was the way that it must be. One fateful starless night, when the ring was shining and lighting up the deserts of Cyre. Ainrik followed a shining bird across the desert, watching its graceful movements to and fro, riding currents of desert air. After losing the bird behind a spire, he traveled slowly back to his warband’s encampment. Ain’rik lay down and looked 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 later 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 men, but the dead, having risen to fight again, with the symbol of Karrnath emblazoned on their armors. He pulled his crude curved sword from his belt and ran towards them, running over the dead bodies of elves and undead alike. He only saw twelve of the 200 elves in his warband still remaining, fighting a losing battle against thousands of zombies and skeletons. As he ran, he dodged the blows of undead, and ran towards his exhausted allies. When he reached them, the enemy stopped fighting, and withdrew to a ten-foot distance from the cluster of elves. The Valaes Tairn also stopped fighting, for they, unlike the dead, could only fight for so long. The mass of undead split into a perfect channel, and allowed 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 charge the masked figure, using the last of his strength. The man raised his arm, and Ainrik instinctively fell to the ground, just 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, and was surprised by the face he saw. It was none other than his father. His father’s eyes stared at him with an unnatural look, piercing into the depths of his soul. His father raised a spear, with an obvious intent to drive it through Ainrik’s heart. His father kicked off a body and saw his son’s face. He seemed locked for a moment between killing his son, and going away. As he looked into his father’s eyes he saw a look of 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. He passed out a few moments later. He came when a flash of darkness cruised over his shut eyes. Opening his eyelids, he saw the same shining bird circling around his field of vision, then flying off away from the blinding sun. He whispered a prayer of thanks to the bird, not just for now, but for saving his life a second time. When he got up, and pushed the dead away from him, he saw that he was not the only survivor. His mother’s horse, Ashaad was lying on the ground a few feet from him, licking wounds on its thigh. He ripped a piece of cloth from his tunic and bandaged the horse, then he mounted it and they 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 of nothing he had seen before. They had faces adorned with black and white paint, appearing as if they were more skeletons than elves. They helped him recover, then told them of who they were. 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 him and his horse with them, and traveled 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 it as he seeks to find what actually happened that eventful day, and to seek revenge on the leaders of Karrnath, as well as his father. Ain'rik 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 word 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, and 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 in 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. I am open to almost all input. this is more or less my fifth revision.
Dauntless 09-15-04, 08:33 PM	Minor catch: Valenar didn't exist until 956 YK, when Aerenal mercenaries annexed a portion of southern Cyre as their own.
Serpentine 09-15-04, 08:36 PM	What do you think you're missing or need help on, scaryfroman?
scaryfroman 09-16-04, 06:16 PM	Thanks Dauntless. how do you think i should handle that issue? any ideas? I suppose he could have been a member of the Valaes Tairn in Aerenal who migrated during the last war. Serpentine: i was looking for discrepancies like that, as well as just general story critique. as if it seemed to be enough for a good backstory.
Serpentine 09-16-04, 09:37 PM	Okay. First off, I like how evocative some of the descriptions are, especially in the desert. It's a good backstory for someone destined for important things. The only problem I see is that the story makes some disjointed leaps, particularly with regards to Ainrik's family. Where is his mother? Was his father supposed to be in the battle with them? Have you figured out why it was that his father betrayed the elves? (It doesn't need to be in the story, or told to anyone.) Here are some copy edits for the story. 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. He 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 followed 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. (Father's Name?) (Name?)’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. (Name?) 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.
scaryfroman 09-17-04, 08:22 PM	Thank you so much. That's really great. as for your points, yes i have decided what happened to his father. here is a second paragraph that i will insert: His father, Tashrik, had been proud of his son’s ancestry. His own ancestor was known for bargaining with Quori during the rebellion, and was something he rarely talked about. His mother, Tegene, had been raised in Shae Cairdal and was not a warrior. She was always puzzled over her son’s behavior, but was proud of him when she left him and his father to return to Aerenal in 960. She was not a warrior. Here is an edited paragraph later that I used to explain more of his father: 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.