Eren'ir

This section is for Character Sheets specifically. Please make sure to read over the starting guides, rules, and the lost history information before completing a character sheet.

Moderators: Storytellers, Developers, Advocates


Eren'ir

Postby Eren'ir » Fri Sep 08, 2017 7:21 pm

.

.

Image

Name: Eren'ir
Age: 19
Race: Mortalborn (Immortal & Human/Aukari) [Approval]
Parents: Qylios, Bastian Talvor
Date of Birth: 699th, 8th of Cylus
Factions: The Txerriak & Langilea
Marks: N/A
Partners: N/A
Languages: Grovokian (Fluent), Euthic Sign (Broken), Common (Broken)*, Rakahi (Broken)* (* = From Linguistics)


Appearence & Personality

Appearence:

Model: Conor McLain

With consideration for Eren'ir's station in life, his appearence poorly reflects it. Oftentimes finding himself easily distinguishable in the sullen crowds he's surrounded by, Eren'ir has a striking physical appearence that is difficult to forget. Standing at a height of 6'3'', his body is an elegant composition of lean muscle wrapped in fair and remarkably unblemished skin. Like his body, the features of his face are finely sculpted in sharp and masculine design with a strong jawline and pronounced cheekbones, above which rests a pair of icy blue eyes under a crown of bright, blonde hair. Though he appears to be nothing more than human, he's built much like an exemplar of his species with untapped potential and a strong foundation. He carries very few marks and scars from his life of servitude, most of them faded away or in the process of fading where the most evident marks rest beneath his collar and cuffs, oppressively bearing down upon his flesh and constantly scratching their way into his skin, serving as an undeniable reminder of what he is and what he is meant to be.

Personality:

At his core, Eren'ir is a brave and honest young man with a seemingly unbreakable spirit and tenacious heart. Though his life in Augiery has ultimately shaped him and his perceptions of the world, his core sits protected behind a hardened exterior and guides his conscience in spite of the circumstances that rule his existence. Perhaps ironically, in the shadow of the Queen of Deceit herself, Eren'ir has nurtured a belief in sincerity and purity of intention that still survives the harsh conditions by which he is forced to live and, as a result, he pours his heart and soul into every word to leave his lips, decision he makes and action he takes. He's under no illusion of who or what he is---he lives solely to serve the women of Augiery without question or complaint, and that's exactly what he does. Throughout the years he's spent under the heel of the Naerikk, he's learned to love his purpose in life and the Shadow Queen herself, so to the point that he takes great pride in what he is and his success as subservient of the superior gender.

History

Eren'ir lost his freedom when he was too young to form lasting memories, just two Arcs old when his father's caravan was annihilated by Naerikk raiders. His earliest memories are perhaps more painful than one'd expect after knowing him, as he was naturally resistant to the fierce conditioning and training of the Naerikk when he was first brought to Augiery. His induction into the ranks of the Langilea was rough, enough so that most of his adolescent years were lost to a thick fog in his mind---intrusive and demanding, it clutched tightly around some of his earliest memories and kept them hidden away in the deepest, darkest recesses of his subconscious mind. There, they were sealed away by the Puppeteers as they poisoned the young boy's mind, detaching him from his fear of relinquishing his freedom, his old life---and gave him new direction when he took his first stumbling steps into his new life as a man of Augiery. Six Arcs old, Eren'ir was reborn, mind scrubbed clean of memories of who he'd been before Augiery, the product of the merciless conditioning and manipulation of the Naerikk. The Txerriak quickly became a substitute for the father he no longer dared to recall and he formed loose bonds with the other slaves who toiled away in the darkness of the hive, allowing his steps to be guided by his peers.

The life of a man in Augiery is not meant to be easy, and Eren'ir was no exception to the rule. When he was embraced in the fold, he was young, weak and withered from the journey that brought him there and the mistreatment of his mistresses throughout his harsh induction. He was easy prey for his fellows and masters alike, other men stepping over his body in the muck to raise themselves up just a little higher in their neverending quest to find some form of release---a way out, a ticket to freedom. In spite of this, however, Eren'ir clambered back to his feet every time he fell and continued to endure, to suffer and to learn as much as he could of this way of life so that he might, eventually, stand firm and ascend above the vultures he surrounded himself with and carry himself with pride. No amount of abuse seemed able to break his spirit despite being so young, and he put his mental fortitude to good use in adapting to his new lifestyle and filling out the mold he'd been shoved into.

As Eren'ir grew older, his body grew stronger and, eventually, the worst of the abuse he endured petered out until it stopped almost completely. Unexpectedly, the young man flourished in spite of his environment and as he grew stronger, he gained enough confidence to progress with conviction towards an unknown goal. He served dutifully in his given role and groveled at the feet of his mistresses as long as it pleased them, standing straight and tall when it suited them, learning quickly to adjust and adapt and read the cues of his betters. He came to measure his personal success by the apparent pleasure of his superiors, making it his honor and delight to be at the beck and call of the Shadow Queen and her many daughters. As Eren'ir finally reached adulthood, several new opportunities made themselves apparent to him. There was more to the Txerriak beyond the Langilea, though it had initially been unavailable to him. Tempered by the inhumane conditions of the hive, Eren'ir had matured into a strong young man with untold potential that he was prepared to devote to Audrae's daughters, though his final destination in the ranks of the Txerriak remained to be seen.

Mortal Parent & Story

Name: Bastian Talvor
Race: Human/Aukari
DOB: 671st, Ashan 34th (Deceased; 702nd, Saun 16th)
Skills: Discipline 30, Endurance 30, Fieldcraft 20, Strength 20
Relationship to PC: Father
Appearance: Bastian was a relatively unassuming man at first glance, standing about average height at 5'8'' and with a heavy set build fit for a countryman. His Aukari heritage was evident in his skin pigmentation, fair skin and occasional splattering of freckles, as well as his piercing blue eyes and dark, strawberry blonde hair. He had a fire burning within that showed on the surface, manifesting in an intense stare and demeanour that more often than not kept others at a firm distance.

Personality: Bastian was defined by his relentless pursuit of a purpose in life and restlessness. He was never content to stay in one place for long and lost interest in any pursuit too quickly to truly master it. He jumped from one thing to the next without discretion and grew increasingly frustrated with the stagnation of his life and the apparent stillness of the world around him. He found himself always wanting for something just out of his reach, and he drove himself to near madness in pursuit of something to fill up the yawning void in his chest. He had a short temper and shorter attention span, and all of his passions and desires bubbled close to the surface. In a sense, he was a simple man to interpret because he didn't pull his punches, but this also caused most to give him a wide berth. Only after the birth of his son did he start to slow down, though he never managed to find true peace before his untimely death.

Origin Story:

He had wanted nothing more in life than to quench the insatiable yearning that ate away at him, churning in his chest and clutching his heart in a vice grip. It paralyzed him at times, locking his mind and body in a state of confusion and disarray. He'd chased that yearning for the better part of his life, trying to put his finger on what it was he truly pined for. It was such an intrusive drive, and yet he had failed to identify what his soul yearned for. As the years went by, optimism gave way to desperation and anger as he let his boots lead him across the world in search of his purpose---the one thing that would set him free. Bastian had wished many times for a simpler life, one dominated by the dreary struggle for survival from season to season. Marry, have children, grow old and die, leaving your offspring to pick out your remains until, eventually, there was nothing left. A life that comes and goes, as pointless as a stray breeze brushing against the trunk of the mighty tree of life. No matter how many leaves you rustled out of the tree's canopy, they would be replaced in time and your impact would be all but forgotten, washed away with the tide of time's passing.

Yes, Bastian had wished for a simpler life, once upon a time. He had wished that he could be content, but the yearning kept driving him onward to unknown horizons.

Perhaps that's why he gave her pause.

For the lady with the golden crown, existence was one filled with certainties. Since her inception, she'd known her purpose and followed it without question, tugging the flocks along with her who'd bask in her radiance and ride on her every word. It stood in stark contrast to Bastian's internal struggle, and perhaps that was why she stopped. His memories of the moment were hazy. Searching the depths of his mind, he failed to recall a time and place before he awakened several trials later, the only vivid memory in his mind being that of the golden lady's eyes as they met his own. They had burrowed into him in search of something---an answer to his plight that was crying so clearly from deep within his soul?

Bastian jolted awake.

It had been nearly an arc since then, and he had never stopped searching for her. The piercing stare of the Immortal had haunted him every night as he closed his eyes to drift away from the waking world, watching him as he slept and always resting upon him while awake, just out of sight but always intrusively present at the edge of his mind. With a frustrated groan, the man drew his hand through his strawberry blonde hair and rose from his cot to step outside into the cold winter chill, letting the droplets of sweat covering his body freeze in the cold breeze. He was too preoccupied by the all too familiar sensation to pay the cold any mind, the fire burning in his blood keeping him comfortable. His eyes searched the night sky above, tracing lines between the heavenly bodies in an effort to temporarily suppress the image of Qylios' eyes that remained burned into his mind. A pair of golden, glowing eyes.

More than anything else, Bastian yearned to be set free.

The moment that Qylios eyes had met his, he was trapped---spellbound. She had radiated with a sense of purpose and certainty that Bastian had longed for, as long as he could remember. It had drawn him in and he'd offered up no resistance as it seized control of him, continuing to influence his every thought since then and driving his fervent search of her. Whatever spell she'd bound him with was contrary to what he'd wished for. He hadn't longed to be the slave of a fate he couldn't control, and he was convinced that the Immortal, the lady with the golden crown, had seen the emptiness within him and filled it with a sense of purpose. Perhaps it had been unintentional, but Bastian couldn't help his disdain for the Immortal as a result of his ceaseless pursuit throughout the arc that had passed since he encountered her the first time. He'd followed her every step, and yet she was always three steps ahead. Bastian eventually forced his attention away from the stars as the lines he'd drawn began to grow reminiscent of the Immortal's face, staring back at him from the heavens.

Dawn was just a few breaks away. Bastian resolved to spend the rest of them sleeping, for he had a long trip ahead of him. Casting a final glance at the sky as if to ascertain that she wasn't still watching him from up high, Bastian sank back into the darkness of the wayward shack he'd holed himself up in. He backed up into it and let the drapes fall over the entrance before he froze. The sound of a sharp breath behind him had given him pause, the hairs of his neck standing on end in alarm. A warm, soft hand landed on his shoulders moments later. There was no hesitation in his mind as he spun on his heels and swung a tight fist at the intruder, sending her reeling back with a surprised yelp. Bastian pursued before his mind had caught up with him, shifting himself and the woman up against the opposite wall where he pressed his arm up under her chin and held her in place whilst his fist reeled back---

He paused. Every muscle in his body involuntarily locked up as his eyes met hers. A familiar sensation washed over him, creeping up his spine like an unpleasant omen before he managed to break free of the paralysis and avert his gaze from her. His fist swung involuntarily as he retreated away from the Immortal, but this time she caught it.

"I would know your name."

Bastian wanted to deny her.

In spite of himself, he met her gaze again. He stared back into those golden eyes of hers, the eyes that had haunted him for the past arc and denied him respite. He held his tongue and bit back the words that she'd bidden him to speak, letting the anger grant him courage to face her down. She would set him free this night. Bastian would not let her leave until she had done so. His countenance once more gave her pause, like it had done that day. Her golden eyes searched his features. Bastian didn't know what she was looking for, and he cursed himself for admitting the thought into his mind. He closed his eyes to break off their connection and shoved himself away from her and the wall she'd stood up against.

"Unless you're here to grant me freedom, begone."

Without opening his eyes, he addressed the Immortal directly. "I will be the slave of your purpose no longer."

Whether the words surprised her or not, he couldn't tell. It didn't matter, so long as his intent carried loud and clear in spite of the croak in his voice as he struggled to speak against the crushing pressure that bore down on his chest in protest of his resistance. He yearned to be set free. More than anything, he wanted his freedom back. Freedom to follow her by his own volition and not for fear of the punishing agony of denying the way that she called directly to his soul. He felt her movement towards him and he immediately sidestepped away from her to maintain the physical distance, the only protection he could grant himself.

"I don't know what it is..." Her voice broke the silence, making Bastian flinch. "You remind me of him."

What?

Bastian's eyes opened, against his better judgement. He leveled Qylios with a stare, every muscle in his body tensing up in preparation for the worst. "Who?," he demanded.

"A dear friend, from a time long gone."

The unexpected sorrow in her voice caught Bastian unprepared and sliced straight through his defenses. His vision blurred and he felt his body falling like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Qylios broke his fall, strong arms arcing down to catch him before he hit the floor. The sudden weakness was unexpected, and Bastian felt the same intrusive, creeping sensation crawl up his spine. Before long, he thought, he'd be lost again. Enthralled by her presence alone and doomed to lose sight of his opportunity to demand of her his freedom. He'd be back to square one.

Even as his consciousness faded, Bastian continued to agonize over his fate, cradled in Qylios' arms and with her splendid golden eyes resting upon him as his vision faded to black, his mind soon to follow. However...

Whether it had been Qylios' light or something else, a bright flare broke through the darkness and called him back to consciousness, chasing away the weakness that had beset his body and giving him the strength to will his body to move. As his consciousness was tugged back into his body, Bastian came to moments later and found himself staring straight into Qylios' eyes again. Whatever spell he'd been under had broken, because he gazed deeply into the Immortal's eyes and retained control of his body and his mind. Qylios lay expectantly underneath him, golden hair sprawled about her head like a sunburst against the floor, shimmering as if reflecting sunlight that was woefully absent in the dark shack. Dawn was still breaks away, but she illuminated the room in defiance, simply by being. Bastian had yearned for nothing more than to be free.

Free, to follow her.

The following breaks passed quickly. Bastian submitted his flesh and his will to Qylios that night, of nobody's volition but his own. They parted ways the following morning.

He gave her a headstart. He had regained his freedom, at long last.

The freedom to pursue her to the ends of this world.

Skills & EXP Ledger

SkillPoints AcquiredTotal Points SpentProficiency
Dancing10/100 (10/250)Novice
Discipline25/100 N/A : FTNovice
Endurance25/100 (25/250)Novice
Linguistics5/100 (5/250)Novice
Seduction20/100 (20/250)Novice
Strength23/100 (23/250)Novice
Unarmed Combat5/100 (5/250)Novice

Thread or Skill Name Points Gained Points Spent Running Total
Racial Bonus 25 -- 25
Endurance -- 25 0
Slave Bonus 10 -- 10
Seduction -- 10 0
Starting Package 50 -- 50
Dancing -- 10 40
Discipline -- 5 35
Linguistics -- 5 30
Seduction -- 5 25
Strength -- 20 5
Unarmed Combat -- 5 0
Seduction [NH] -- 5 0
Discipline [NH] -- 5 0
Strength [NH] -- 3 0
Don't Play With Your Food 15 -- 15
Discipline -- 15 0

Knowledge & Renown


Source Renown Gained Running Total
Starting (City) 10 10
Starting (Race) 10 20
Starting (Profession) 10 30
Don't Play With Your Food 5 35

Items, Housing & Ledger

Possessions:
  • One set of clothing (tarnished) [Slave Pack]
  • One pair of shoes [Slave Pack]

Source Money Gained Money Spent Running Total
-- -- -- 0

Domains & Religion

Domains: Faith, Radiance, Heroism

As of yet, Eren'ir possesses no marks from any Immortals or Mortalborn. He pays homage to Audrae because his way of live demands it, but he is not religiously worshipful.

Thread List & Chronicle

Vhalar, 717:
Zi'da, 717:
Cylus, 718:
User avatar
Eren'ir
Approved Character
 
Posts: 34
Joined: Wed Sep 06, 2017 1:01 pm
Race: Mortal Born
Profession: Amnesiac
Renown: +35
Character Sheet
Prophets' Notes
Plot Notes
Templates

Return to Character Sheets