Crivash

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Crivash

Postby Crivash » Fri Aug 04, 2017 8:54 pm

 ! Pegasus wrote:
Crivash is now an NPC Mortal Born. Please see the Mortal Born Guide for more information!



He who swims through deep water without light
Mortalborn Approval


Aliases Crivash
Race Mortalborn (son of Cassion), Mer Type 2
Birth Day/Age Zi'da 6, 417th Arc, 300 Arcs Old
Origin Orm’del Sea (Meerabelard Territory)
Location Sarraski, Southern Orm’del
Domains Refuge, Sharks, Currents
Religion Leviathans, Some Immortals
Profession Tribal Warrior/Hunter
Height Torso: 4’9”, Tail: 10’6”
Weight Torso: 184 lbs, Tail: 860 lbs
Factions Joined N/A
Likes Journeys, Sea beasts, Sharks, Pearls
Dislikes Mertamorphosis, Fishing with nets, Most land-walkers
Partners -
Weaknesses WIP
Strengths WIP
Languages Mer Telepathy - Fluent, Common - Broken
Image


Appearance


Born with an Immortal father, Crivash is a massive Mer of the second type of Mer. He sports a dark blue shark-like tail complete with dorsal fin and a set of pelvis and anal fins. His face and torso are vaguely humanoid with three sets of finned spines that protrude from his head as well as a pair of tentacles. When angered the finned spines on his head stand up, though they are not prehensile and offer no utility. His massive body weights over a thousand pounds due mostly to his tail, though he spends his time in the ocean where he is more or less weightless. If he were to practice mertamorphosis, he would transform to be a respectable seven feet tall and weigh much less.

Though it is hard to tell for an outsider, Crivash appears to be a second type Mer in his late twenties, except for an air of experience that lends people to think of an older individual. Indeed, Crivash sports scars from battle with mer, human, and sea-beast that are well over two hundred years old themselves. He swims through the ocean with an easy grace, built for distance rather than speed but with the endurance to give chase when it is needed. Crivash holds himself proudly with confidence and is often found with nothing but a rudimentary harness complete with a few weapons and tools for everyday life under the surface. At night or in low light Crivash’s eyes shine with the same glint as a shark’s, though blue instead of yellow.

Scars
  • Two pale marks over right eye acquired in youth (450 Arc)
  • Deep scar on the top and bottom of his rear tail from a harpoon (500 Arc)
  • Small crescent of scars on left shoulder from shark bite (580 Arc)
  • Rough scar on left side of tail from human cutlass (593 Arc)
  • Tip of left pectoral fin missing from a sea beast bite (630 Arc)
  • Three small scars on chest from a mer trident (690 Arc)
Personality


With a father like Cassion, Crivash has a wanderlust embedded deep in his soul. His fierce Mer loyalty conflicts with his need to adventure sometimes, making him choose between the Mer he is bonded with and the deep, dark horizons of the unknown. His age combined with a somewhat cyclic encounter with danger and risk has brought on a stoic nonchalance when concerning situations of peril. Crivash is capable of great wrath, being of Mer blood, but that is tempered with years of experience, making violence not always the first option.

Being a Mer, Crivash is first and foremost concerned with the well being of those in his current tribe and that of their oceanic territory. He find passion in the care of his environment and the animals within. His obligation to the care of his tribesmer and his environment extends to his distrust of outsiders and his hostility to those landwalkers who venture there. It takes a great deal to persuade Crivash that any human found afloat in what he perceives as Mer territory is worth mercy, though he thinks of the inhabitants of Augiery as a necessity.


User avatar
Crivash
Approved Character
 
Posts: 20
Joined: Wed Jul 26, 2017 7:18 pm
Race: Tunawa
Profession: Warrior/Shaman
Renown: 0
Character Sheet
Plot Notes
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Crivash

Postby Crivash » Fri Aug 04, 2017 8:54 pm


Timeline


417 Arc, Zi'da: Crivash is born.
423 Arc, Saun: Crivash receives name in the Meerabelard Tribe.
438 Arc, Cylus: Crivash learns of parentage, leaves Meerabelard Tribe.
460 Arc, Ashan: Crivash settles with the Akosile Tribe, learning their way of life.
463 Arc, Ymiden: Crivash participates in an Akosile Swarm.
464 Arc, Zi'da: Crivash becomes aware one of the youths is his offspring.
474 Arc, Saun: Crivash witnesses his offspring's death at the hands of fishermen.
474 Arc, Saun: Crivash abandons Akosile to hunt fishermen, eventually has to leave area.
500 Arc, Ashan: Crivash is wounded by a group of local fishermen outside Scalvoris.
500 Arc, Ymiden: Crivash appeals to the Akktava for sanctuary.
540 Arc, Zi'da: Crivash leaves the Akktava, tired of raiding ships.
590 Arc, Saun: Crivash finds the Soro'koralli and joins their effort to protect the ocean.
649 Arc, Ymiden: Crivash fakes his death because Soro'koralli are suspicious of his age.
652 Arc, Zi'da: Crivash attempts to hide away in Minisink territory.
680 Arc, Ashan: Crivash is found by Minisink escorted out of territory.
680 Arc, Ymiden: Crivash returns to Meerabelard territory.
685 Arc, Saun: Disgusted by his birth tribe's leaning toward Chrien, Crivash leaves.
686 Arc, Ashan: Crivash finds his way to Augiery and the coastal Sarraski to begin again.

Chronicles


Meerabelard Chronicle : 
Akosile Chronicle : 
Akktava Chronicle : 
Minisink Chronicle : 

User avatar
Crivash
Approved Character
 
Posts: 20
Joined: Wed Jul 26, 2017 7:18 pm
Race: Tunawa
Profession: Warrior/Shaman
Renown: 0
Character Sheet
Plot Notes
Personal Journal
Letters

Crivash

Postby Crivash » Fri Aug 04, 2017 8:59 pm


Mortalborn Story


Ymiden, 417th Arc…
Ymiden, 417th Arc, Aboard the Wanderer on the Orm’del Sea.

She was called ‘The strong fin that shifts the sand’, a concept associated with her identity since her sixth Arc. The surface humans who rode the winds above the waves, the Biqaj as they called themselves in their own language, had supplied a name she took for herself, Brine. They had said it meant the salty sea, and she had liked the sound. She watched the ship smash through the waves, scattering water across the surface of the ocean. The wooden contraption creaked and moaned as if in pain with the rolling of the storm. Brine let her head drift below the surface and moved closer. She saw the rear of the ship was sagging lower in the water than was normal of a craft of her size.

As she approached the craft she identified their problem. In the storm, only the surface was disrupted with the wrath, the ocean below swirled with the usual currents. The hole in the ship was about the size of her arm. As she swam closer she raised her harpoon launcher warily. She did not trust the humans, not even the Biqaj, but nor did she hate them. The hole in the ship was trailing air bubbles as she watched it. This was dire for the land-walkers aboard the craft, as it meant the ocean was claiming the craft, and their lives. She set a blue-grey hand against the ship and latched claws softly into the wood next to the hole. She immediately felt the pull of the ship as her body shifted to match their direction of travel.

As the mer peered into the ship she saw that the interior of the deck, as foreign to her as the deep was to them, was already a few feet underwater. Humans, heavily bearded and armed with hammers, were splashing about, attempting to find a way to block such a large breach. One man approached the breach with a large bundle of cloth. Brine knew from watching the crafts that this was a tool used to catch the wind and propel the ship. Now it seemed he was trying to block the breach. As he stumbled and splashed to his knees in front of the hole he froze, his brown eyes staring into her pale, pearlescent ones. She held a hand up in greeting.

His mouth dropped open and he slowly lowered his head below the surface, staring at her. She did not hate them. They toiled across the surface, bold in their defiance of their land-locked prisons. She respected that tenacity, but this was Meerabelard territory, and they would be killed. Brine tried to imprint a vision of the ship at the bottom of the ocean, black and cold. The man looks startled and began to draw the cutlass at his waist. She reached out and with a firm grasp stayed his hand. She tried again to use her telepathy to warn him. The hole was too large to block, the storm too fierce, they must abandon ship. She conveyed as best she could this idea. He reached over and with an utterly foreign, but gentle grip removed her hand from his wrist. He nodded to her once and stood to scramble back. She watched through the filter of the water as the blurry shaped of the men all coming to surround the sailor. A few stuck their heads beneath the water not flooding their ship to peer at her. One even drew his blade and attempted to charge before he was pulled back violently by his compatriots.

Eventually a new man appeared and dove easily into the water to approach her. He was utterly beautiful and wild in a way that seemed to transcend race. He peered at her, his dreadlocks floating like eels around his strong face. The goatee of black hair framed a smile that seemed to welcome the danger of the storm and the possible danger of a strange Mer. She knew by instinct that this individual was the chief amongst these land-walkers. He closed his eyes and she felt his thoughts in her mind. He could use telepathy?! She was shocked as his mental query formed in her mind.

Are you an enemy? He seemed to ask.

No. I was curious. You are in danger.

He replied with dark humor and a obvious affirmative in his thoughts. Undoubtedly, the storm is unforgiving.

That cloth wont hold, no matter how well you secure it. You go deeper into Chrien’s wrath, turn around. She struggled to form the thoughts for the mind of a surface-dweller. He seemed not to struggle as other men might.

We can’t turn, the rudder is gone. He replied without inflection.

Abandon it.

We can’t, we’ve lost our rowboats to the storm. He replied.

Brine stared at him. The man stared back. He could certainly hold his breath. Brine wondered what it would be like to sink to a water death. The ocean represented great danger for her, but not as it did for men. She decided she did not want these particular men taken by the sea. I will help you. She sent the thought telepathically before pulling the cloth through the hole. She heard a hammering resume as the man and his crew attempted to wedge wooden staves into the hole.

For the next break she helped the crew locate and plug holes with knocking signals. She identified some of the leaks from the outside and was even becoming hopeful of their survival. But that was delusion. The storm did not relent, and the force of the ocean’s wrath began dislodging their combined work. Brine felt herself tiring from the work, her speed and her sharpness depleting. She could only imagine how it felt for these land-walkers so far from their home environment. And the storm continued to batter away their progress.

Another break later, the ship seemed to rip along the largest hole. The sharp crack that reverberated through the water was sharp and ominous. It was the fleeting last cry of a beast going to its death. Brine watched as the ship began to descend more quickly. She raised her eyes to the surface and watched as men splashed into the water, many flailing with their ill assorted limbs. By the time the top deck of the ship finally succumbed to the ocean most of the men were struggling at the surface. Brine bobbed amongst them, searching for the leader.

There is a high reef not far from here. Perhaps you will survive there. She conveyed to him when she found him trying to aid one of his men in treading water. The big, strong man seemed unalarmed by his bleak situation, concerning himself with caring for the men that remained to him.

A high reef? Does it surface?

Yes.

How far?

A trial’s swim west.

The man jerked his eyes upon her. He watched her face for a moment, as if making a heavy decision.

They may not make it. He intoned. She noticed he did not include himself in this assessment. He was separate from his men.

Some may. The ocean will take them here. She did not bother to wait and see if he followed. Brine dove back underwater and surfaced again next to another soldier nearby just as a wave crashed over his head. She drew in oxygen from the salty wave as he struggled beneath it. Brine didn’t both trying to console or calm him, she simply took hold of his collar and began to drag him through the water. It was not fast, but compared with the half-dead men it was more than adequate.

The chief was swimming behind her, keeping pace. His men struggled behind him. Brine let the man she dragged for nearly a break swim on his own one another fell back. As the breaks dragged on, more and more fell back and their pace slowed as she tried to corral them together and pull them forward. It was a losing battle, and the Mer knew it. The only one who seemed capable of keeping up with her on his own was the leader. Eventually she did not have the strength to pull them all along and had to give up on the weaker swimmers. The ocean claimed what it was due, and they were far from the sandbar she had mentioned.

But they kept swimming. As the storm raged on and their strength dwindled, so did their numbers. First one man, then a handful, then a dozen were simply gone. Either eaten or drowned. It did not matter, they were gone as completely as if they never existed. The ones who survived, the few, did not let it discourage them. All hard men, all ready to die if they must. The hardest and hardiest of them all was the chief. He had not yet wavered nor shown sign of tiring as he swam steadily through unforgiving wave and chilling sea spray.

When a school of hammerheads approached from the south Brine felt her heart drop. She knew what was coming and was struggling with whether to tell the men the danger that approached. Her eyes fell on the chief as he swam, a look of grim determination on his face.

Sharks approach. She warned, letting him deduce the danger and the chances of survival.

He stopped swimming and looked around for her face. Her pale, shark-like skin shown in the dying light of the day. The storm had settled and now the waved that slapped playfully on them did not drown men or break ships. She bobbed up and down, looking for the fear in his eyes. She found none. He yelled in his language and his men began swimming to him. They made a mass of arms and legs.

Smart. They had no chance of surviving alone, so they school together. Brine wasn’t sure it would work, but perhaps.

There are only five, and one a youngling. I will kill as many as I can. She thought to the man. He sent a flash of appreciation back, and she caught a crippling wave of ferocity that came in its wake. He was preparing for a fight to the death.

Brine dove, bringing her harpoon launcher to bear on the approaching sharks. She knew it was not spiteful, simply in their nature. Still, she felt as though she was rushing to battle now, facing off against more numerous opponents. She loosed the first of three harpoons and it caught the biggest hammerhead through the mouth. The thing went still and leaked black blood into the ocean. The others launched into a frenzy, whipping through the water in all directions. Brine picked another and watched it move as she pulled the second harpoon and set it in the launcher.

She raised the weapon, took aim, and fired. She had used it since she was barely six trials old. She had downed monsters of the deep. She had provided for her tribe. Now, here, she missed. The harpoon went careening off into the deep black and out of sight. The shark she had aimed for bit into the mass of men and pulled one deeper. She watched in horror as it and the youngling bit into the man’s flesh and inked the ocean with more blood. She hurried to reload the harpoon launcher. The man was dead before she raised it again. His corpse, however, provided a distraction to keep the sharks still. Brine made sure his sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain. As two of the bigger sharks harassed the sailors above, she embedded her last harpoon in the gills of the larger of the two feasting on the now dead man. The youngling dislodged itself and Brine charged it. This one she could take with her dagger. The beast took a swipe of the blade across the gills. It turned to lash out at her, but this was not her first hunt. She sunk the dagger into it’s black eye socket before it could bite her.

In the end the remaining two sharks feasted on five men, including the first that she had failed to save. That left Brine, the chief, and only five of his men left. They were only halfway to the sandbar reef she had mentioned. They had lost almost all of their number. Brine wondered vaguely whether she would be left with nothing more than memories of dead strangers when she reached it.

They pressed on. She heard the men groaning and gasping, their lungs and bodies working in overdrive just to move as she did without thought. She wondered what it must be like to be completely unprepared for the ocean as they were. To her the wilds of the sky and the darkness of the land seemed a hellish expanse of death. To them though, her home was that hell.

After the storm and the sharks, the ocean seemed calmer. Just as she thought they might be able to make it with a few men, they started dropping due to exhaustion. First, the chief’s strongest warrior, a man who had kept up the entire way without aid, seemed to collapse inwardly upon himself. When Brine dove to pull him up he looked at her blankly. He reached out and gently removed her hand from his arm, staring after her as he sunk. It was chilling, but she did not relent in trying to save the last few. In the end it was hopeless. They simply fell away. All but the chief, the strongest among them.

What are you called? She asked finally, not wanting him to die without her knowing his story.

Cassion. You?

Brine hesitated. Brine.

What is your people’s name for you? He asked. He had no hesitation about it. Clearly this man, whoever he was, was familiar with Mer ways. How had he become so familiar? Brine searched his face as they swam next to each other. The name had been familiar, but she knew not where from. Perhaps it was a common a land-walker name.

She projected the image, from her youth, that defined who she was to her people. The young shark’s tail, from the perspective of her looking back on herself, as it swirled the white, calm sand inches beneath her into beautiful arcs. This was her identity. Her truest self she had just shown to this stranger simply because he asked. She knew it meant a special bond. He was not of the ocean, and yet he knew her Mer name. She was not of the land, and yet here she was helping him. She knew that now their bond was tethered and she could not let him die.

That is beautiful. He thought at her, concentrating heavily on the task of staying afloat.

How did you come to know our way of naming? She asked.

I’ve been around. Long time on the road. He said simply, and they swam on.

Eventually they came to the sandbar. It was not as she remembered, however. There was seven feet of water above the tallest part of the sandy reef. They looked at each other and said nothing about the impeding failure of their plan. Cassion conveyed a feeling of intense hunger and Brine went to hunt for them. She returned with raw flounder and they both feasted while treading water.

There is another way. Possibly it was really the only way[./i] She sent him images of the Mertamorphosis. She could change him, make him more like her. It would take trials to complete and more trials to journey to the coast, but they could reach it in time.

[i]How long to the coast?
He asked. He was not concerned with which coast at all. She did not know the name of the land-walker’s territory, but she knew where it was west of Meerabelard territory.

Four trials, and four to make the change. She thought.

Let’s do it.

It will be dangerous. My tribesmer are vicious, and this is the spawn. We may be attacked.

There is no choice, unless you aren’t up for the adventure. He accompanied this thought with a wary grin. She cocked her head, staring at the man who had swam for a full day to reach this point and mock her. Then she grinned.

Very well.

They spent the next four trials curled together on the reef’s highest point, covered in the egg sac. He was safe though, surviving through the gel secreted from her body. It was an unpleasant and uncomfortable process, the shift. Brine herself was not going through it, but she still felt it as she was the catalyst of these changes. Eventually they were able to break free of the egg, Cassion now with the vital gills to breath life into him. As they traveled she did most of the hunting, being faster and more agile than the man. However, on one occasion he swam out and ripped the gills of a young great white shark, making a meal of it in a matter of heartbeats. He displayed such strength and agility that she began to suspect he was more than a mere man. For his part, the foreign environment seems to invigorate Cassion rather than cause anxiety. He seemed to thrive in the newness and danger of it.

Why do you not participate in this spawn? Cassion conveyed to her as they feasted on swordfish safely tucked in a coral cave on the third trial into their journey. Brine stared down at the pink chunk of raw fish meat she was eating. It wasn’t that her shame or his perceptive nature that gave her pause. She glanced around into the depth of Meerabelard territory, the shunning of her people coming fresh to mind. Her exile and the reason she was so far on the fringes of their territory in the first place.

I have no eggs. They think me weak. She thought finally, trying to convey to him the significance of this. There was no romance in Meerabelard society, the males and females did not bond as the land-walkers did. There was the tribe and the obligation to the tribe. Hunting bonds and warrior bonds were strong in that tribe, but that obligation was the primary force which held society together. She, as a female with no fertile eggs, was breaking with her obligation. She was outcast, she was weak.

You are not weak. Cassion thought with such power it made her look up at him. I know weakness, and strength. You are not weak. His conviction in the thought was not to make her feel better. He did not seem the patronizing sort. He thought it to her with the air of someone stating a fact of life. Somehow his assurance bolstered her.

She was just wondering what this man’s full story was when he asked her another cutting question. Would you like to have eggs. Would you like to give life? He asked. He had stopped eating and was watching her with eyes that seemed to bore into her soul.

I would. For the tribe. She intoned. Her thought had deepest sorrow swirling in it, residue she was unable to cleanse it of before answering. Cassion nodded. He seemed to understand that which she had left unthought. He reached out and touched her shoulder. His touch was warm and wild. She felt an energy from it course through her.

Maybe you will yet. He thought, reassuring. Brine looked away from the man, not wanting to convey her thoughts in that moment. She didn’t want him to relinquish his touch on her shoulder either, but he did.

Rest. Tomorrow we reach the coast. Brine finally thought to him.

But she did not rest that night. Perhaps the swordfish had upset her, or perhaps their journey was finally catching up to her. Brine tossed and turned all night, her stomach in shambles. In the morning, after a night without rest, she began to think something was seriously wrong with her. Cassion watched her symptoms without remark, eating more of the swordfish that hadn’t been gobbled up by scavengers in the night.

Brine screamed, a sharp pain coursing through her abdomen and down through her tail. Without knowing why she sunk to the sand and began squirming. Cassion continued to watch, his face impassive. After a few moments Brine felt it slip from her to settle softly into the sand. Relief flooded her instantly as she turned to see a single egg nestled in the white sand. It was a bit larger than a normal Mer egg and struck with a wild blue grey deep inside. She was stunned. A single egg? Mer laid many, and she had never laid any.

She turned to face Cassion, her heart pounding with fear. How did you do this? She asked, her thoughts heavy and shaking with fear. He smiled at her faintly.

I’m sorry for your pain, but you said you wanted an offspring. Cassion thought to her.

How?! She thought again, more forcefully. She felt an urge to break the egg, to smash it with her tail. She knew that Cassion had somehow done this. He was not Mer, no Mer nor man could gift fertility.

I am no man. Cassion intoned. She sensed an ancient flickering of pride in him them. A gravity that surpassed the charisma of men or mer. I am Cassion the Wanderer. I was made by Brel’Tek. I have given you this life in payment for my own. He indicated the egg with a flash of an affectionate smile.

Cassion the Sojourner, Cassion the Wanderer, Cassion the Hungry. Cassion the Immortal. Brine felt her whole being shake with the momentum of his words. He had given her an egg, he had created in her a life so as to repay his debt to her? What kind of being had that power to on a whim grant her the deepest desire of her life?

Brine looked at the egg that now lay between them. She tenderly picked it up and held it out in front of her.

Mer younglings eat each other by the thousands. How will I know this will survive, how will I know this will even become fertilized? She asked, trying to gather her thoughts. It was beautiful, this egg that had come from her. She wanted to protect it, to guard it with her life. But that was not the Mer way. It belonged in the Meerabelard spawn.

Cassion looked affronted, his ancient pride shining through again. This egg is as much mine as it is yours. He reached out and touched it with that thought. Something within swirled and a bright blue light flickered in the egg. The youth in this is the child of the Lord of Hunger, it will not be eaten. I have given my own blood in place of a father to ensure that this legacy will be a fitting one for you. I know it is not in the Mer to know parent nor offspring, but know that this one will be mighty indeed. Cassion thought with them gravity of a shaman’s words of power.

Brine stared up at him. He had fathered her egg? How was that possible. He was not Mer. When she asked him such he tilted his head back and laughed.

I am not bound as you are, my mortal friend. I can bestow such life where I want. Cassion let his touch fall from the egg, his eyes peering past her. He was looking to the horizon, to the west, and to land.

We need to hurry if we are to get you to land before the effects of the Mertamorphosis revert. Brine thought, her attention drifting with his. Her hands still clutched the egg possessively. She felt a pang of actual pain as she tore her eyes from the thing to look at him. He was shaking his head.

We part here. My son will be hungry when he is born, you must bring him to the spawn so he may eat his fill. I will travel on alone. Cassion saw the look of concern on her face and grinned. I will be fine. The promise of the adventure excites me.

Did you even need me? She thought before she could stop herself.

Cassion’s smile faltered. Of course. Every adventure needs a hero. He winked at her and was off, building speed until all she could see of him was a smudge of black against pale blue. She watched him go though he never looked back. she wondered if someday she would be another story the Immortal told his men. A mer who saved him long ago. She wondered if he would remember the names of the men the ocean had taken.

Then she turned to bring her egg to the Meerabelard spawn. It seemed to already have a pulsing life to it. She would leave a legacy after all. She traveled for the better part of two trials to reach the spawn. Then, later, the spawn hatched and Cassion’s son did indeed eat his fill. But the small Mer youngling did not know what his mother had gone through to birth him, nor the divine nature of his father.


Early Life amongst the Meerabelard Tribe


Crivash was always one of the larger youths in his age of Meerabelard. It meant he was ready to learn to hunt and fight sooner, and he was often expected to have a certain maturity. His youth brought with it a sense of responsibility because of this. Crivash was dedicated to his role in learning the skills of the hunt and longed for the wild thrill of the deep. He trained with the local adult Mer who took them out on hunts, paying close attention to every pertinent detail. He learned the basics of spear fighting from a grizzled, grey Mer named Neptorak. The old Meerabelard worshipped Chrien and told tales of how, through vicious destruction of humans, they would achieve her love once again. He was a massive slab of fish meat, was Neptorak, and though Crivash eventually shunned his teachings on Chrien, he would always remember those first lessons in survival and combat that Neptorak imparted, even hundreds of years later.

In those early years Crivash made a name for himself with his peers by being bold in his ventures and encouraging the other youths to come along. It often resulted in dangerous escapades with sharks, whales and sabotaging human fishing nets. Their antics drew the attention of some of the adult Mer and Crivash was brought into a hunting party by his ninth Arc. Eventually though, due to his distaste for their worship of Chrien, Crivash abandoned the Meerabelard. He hated the Immortal and wanted to experience more of the ocean world than just his backwards minded tribe. By the time he was an adult, Crivash was journeying across the oceans of Idalos on his own.

Other Escapades Across Idalos



Crivash spent the next few hundred years exploring many tribes including the Akktava, Akosile, and Minisink Mer. He hunted and fought, lived and celebrated amongst them. All the while learning what made each tribe important and vital to the ocean’s well being. He earned scar and story from his hunts and pieced together his own image of what a Mer should stand for. On multiple occasions Crivash faced near death situations, sometimes coming away from them with scars and lessons learned about his own ability and that of the dangers of the ocean.

Crivash became drawn in his travels to establishing a universal truth in the Mer. He tried to spend his many years amongst the tribes to understand their values and their fears. Through this time he witnessed tragedy against his kind, oppression and violence from the land-dwellers. These experiences, many while he was still in his first hundred or so years of life, built in him a hatred for the land-walkers. His naivety clouded his memory of the atrocities he saw his own people commit against the merchants, pirates, and sailors of the seas. Crivash became a chauvinist with a sense of entitlement to the ocean and it’s resources that should be fierceless defended against land-walkers. His naive zeal often brought him to violence against land-walkers, those youthful tendencies surviving into his later years though he has grown to have a calmer nature and a reserved tongue.

Arrival in the Southern Ocean and Augiery



Through his travels Crivash heard of a population of some Mer who had aligned themselves with the Naerikk shadow women of Augiery. The lived amongst the land-walkers in harmony, though were not as submissive as the Ryn Mer. Crivash made his way there. With such a group it would not be odd to find a full grown Mer coming into the fold on his own, as it would for one of the more traditional tribes. Crivash arrived and claimed an underwater cavern in a reef half a day’s swim from Sarraski. With little more than his weapons and a sense of a new beginning Crivash set out to once again make a home amongst a new group of Mer. Though they had allied themselves with the Naer, the shadow women’s disdain of the other land-walkers almost matched that of the Mer. Perhaps an ally was just what his people needed…

User avatar
Crivash
Approved Character
 
Posts: 20
Joined: Wed Jul 26, 2017 7:18 pm
Race: Tunawa
Profession: Warrior/Shaman
Renown: 0
Character Sheet
Plot Notes
Personal Journal
Letters

Crivash

Postby Crivash » Fri Aug 04, 2017 9:01 pm


Domains


Shark Affinity - Sharks Domain


The mortalborn is able to use an ability similar to mer telepathy to communicate with sharks to enlist their aid in many tasks. While this is not a form of mind control, the mortalborn is naturally very convincing, having domain over the animals. The ability allows the shark to communicate similarly back to the mortalborn, though in a much more limited fashion than with regular mer telepathy. This does not protect the mortalborn from attack from hungry sharks, but can be used to intimidate them in some circumstances.
Cost: The cost of this ability is for every 3 breaks using it, the mortalborn will spend a break unable to communicate via spoken language or mer telepathy as his mind has to find its way back out of the shark empathy. The mortalborn can also misstep with his communications and spook sharks into attacking.

Blood Ward - Refuge Domain


The mortalborn bears runes on his palms that are identical. When these runes are pressed against a cave wall, shipwreck's bulkhead, or stone at the sea floor he can impart an imprint of the rune and create a warded area no larger than a medium sized room (300 sq ft). This area will be impossible to enter to any person or predatory creature that Crivash has not given express permission to. The mortalborn will also have a sixth sense that allows him to locate this ward from 3-5 kilometers away.
Cost: The mortalborn can only use this ability once a Cycle. The mortalborn can not have two refuge wards laid at once and if one is somehow destroyed he must wait out the rest of the cycle before creating another. This ability can not be used on a structure that is already claimed by residence or purchase of another, i.e. A home, shop, or temple that is already being inhabited.

Sagevision - Currents Domain


The mortalborn is able to enter a trance-like state and follow the path of the currents with his mind. He can sense what is happening along the current for a few leagues as well as pick up on Mer telepathy. This ability can further be used to send telepathy long distances along the currents with training in discipline and meditation.
Cost: The Sagevision will diminish the mortalborn’s actual sight after the trance to only a few feet in front of him for anywhere from a few moments to a full break, depending on how long the trance was.

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Crivash
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Crivash

Postby Crivash » Fri Aug 04, 2017 9:01 pm


Immortal Marks



Marks : 
Abilities : 
Knowledge : 

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Crivash
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Crivash

Postby Crivash » Fri Aug 04, 2017 9:01 pm


Skills & Knowledge



Skills


Skill Name Level Points Tier
Fieldcraft 15 15/251 Novice
Polearms: Spear 15 15/251 Novice
Medicine 15 15/251 Novice
Strength (FT) 15 15/100 Novice
Endurance 0 0/251 Unskilled
Navigation 5 5/251 Novice
Tactics 5 5/251 Novice
Stealth 0 0/251 Unskilled
Hunting 0 0/251 Unskilled
Rhetoric 0 0/251 Unskilled
Drawing 0 0/251 Unskilled
Jewelry Crafting 0 0/251 Unskilled
Leadership 0 0/251 Unskilled
Philosophy 0 0/251 Unskilled


Knowledges


Physical : 
    Fieldcraft: Following the currents for long distance travel (MP)
    Fieldcraft: The deep protects from fishermen’s nets
    Fieldcraft: Kelp can be used to tie things down
    Polearms (Combat Spear): Lunge from Beneath
    Polearms (Combat Spear): Twist to Cause more Damage
    Polearms (Combat Spear): Shaft Strike for Non-lethal Attack
    Strength: pulling the prey long distances
Environmental : 
    Geography of ocean near Augiery (MP) (MP)
Academic : 
    Medicine: Kelp Bandage
    Medicine: Using a fish bone to stitch a gash
Religious : 
    Mortalborn : 
      Mortalborn: Divine Blood brings Divine Power
      Mortalborn: Affinity for Sharks
    People : 

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      Crivash

      Postby Crivash » Fri Aug 04, 2017 9:02 pm


      Possessions & Housing



      Possessions


      On Person : 
        •1 Combat Spear
        •2x knife
        •Combat Harness
      Field Gear : 
        •200ft Kelp Rope
        •1x Trapper’s Kit
        •1x Crab Cage
        •2x Strapped packs
        •1x Mer hooked net
        •2x long hooks
        •2x underwater scent traps
      Prized Possession : Conch horn: This ancient horn was given to Crivash after his first hunt by Neptorak, his old mentor. The horn is used when entering battle or when an especially great kill is made on the hunt. It is a deep orange and white conch shell attached to a leather thong decorated with glass beads. Crivash does not go anywhere without the horn slung across his chest or tied to his harness. It has been in his possession for 291 arcs.


      Crivash’s Cavern


      Lying at the bottom of a 75 foot deep crevice in a coral about four leagues north of Augiery, Crivash’s cavern is the perfect size for him. He is able to easily slip inside and move about the space without becoming stuck, something not easily achieved for a being of such length. The floor of the cavern is soft, white sand and for the most part the coral keeps out large, unwanted guests. There is not much light here, however, save for the diminished light from the surface. It lends the area a tranquil, serene atmosphere. Although he is rarely there, preferring to be active and about the ocean, he will nevertheless defend it with his life.

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      Crivash

      Postby Crivash » Fri Aug 04, 2017 9:02 pm


      Ledgers



      Skill Ledger


      Source Gained Used Total
      Starting Package 50 - 50
      Fieldcraft - 5 45
      Polearms: Spear - 15 30
      Strength - 15 15
      Medicine - 5 10
      Navigation - 5 5
      Tactics - 5 0
      Mer Package 10 - 10
      Field Craft - 10 0
      NH/PL 10 0 10
      Medicine - 10 0


      Nels Ledger


      Source Earned Spent Total
      Mer Package 40 gn - 40 gn
      Memory NPC 1 - 10 gn 30 gn
      Memory NPC 2 - 10 gn 20 gn
      Memory NPC 3 - 10 gn 10 gn
      Memory NPC 4 - 10 gn 0 gn


      Fame Ledger


      Source +/- Total
      - - -


      Point Bank Ledger


      Source +/- Total
      - - -

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      Crivash
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      Crivash

      Postby Crivash » Fri Aug 04, 2017 9:03 pm


      Thread List



      Arc 717 : 
      Memories : 
      Dreams : 

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      Crivash

      Postby Crivash » Fri Aug 04, 2017 9:03 pm


      Relations



      Allies
      Name Type Association Date Met Status Description
      Example Memory NPC Tribesmer 8th Vhalar 423 Dead The Mer who trained Crivash with the spear.


      Enemies
      Name Type Association Date Met Status Description
      Example Memory NPC Tribesmer 8th Vhalar 423 Dead The Mer who trained Crivash with the spear.


      Neutral
      Name Type Association Date Met Status Description
      Example Memory NPC Tribesmer 8th Vhalar 423 Dead The Mer who trained Crivash with the spear.


      Mortal Parent



      Name: Brine “The strong fin that shifts the sand”
      Race: Mer (Type 2)
      Date of Birth: 3rd Ymiden 370, Died Ashan 440
      Skills: Metamorphosis 92, Weapon: Harpoon Launcher 35, Swimming 50, Endurance 10

      Appearance: With the skin and tail of a shark, Brine appears as a decidedly fishy Mer. Her grey-blue skin and grey eyes attest to her oceanic roots while her soft facial features and her feminine form give her an eerie humanoid beauty.
      Personality: A loner Mer by necessity, Brine was open to outsiders like herself. She was kind in her way and strong in her determination. She set much stock by her honor as a warrior and hunter for the Meerabelard Tribe, though they shunned her until her presentation of her singular egg.
      Relationship to PC: Mother

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