Description
A slight, red haired human is here, with wide green eyes and
a wide, cocky grin, revealing glittering, flawless white teeth. This is
the only part of him that shows any sign of detailed care. His face is
a mess of dirt and acne, his clothes worn dutifully down to open
elbows and raw frayed hems. Any color or design is obscured by mud,
blood, and any number of other unidentifiable smear of color
and muck. His aloofness to cleanliness seems to extend to his mannerisms.
He seems comfortable and relaxed, but still manages to
avoid direct eye contact with anyone.
You suspect, that beneath all the crud that. . .
Role
In which Glinar ousts a bad egg, or perhaps a very good one.
Added Tue Jan 12 11:57:47 2010 at level 8:
Glinar stared the young human down. The guild had suffered a great blow
to it's membership, and while he was anxious to bring it back to it's full
influence, there was something about this one he just didn't like. It wasn't
that he disdained lightwalkers so much that they had no place, on the
contrary
they normally avoided him. This one just didn't seem to get it. The constant
needling question, 'why why why?'. Perhaps, perhaps this one could be
made an example of.
'Every time you have taken a coin from the dummy, you rang a bell. What is
your excuse?'
'I'm not really interested in the coins!' the youth, looking up from his
fifth attempt,
finally producing the belt from the dummy without a tinkle, at least until
the pants
fell to the ground with a crash of ringing bells.
Glinar snarled and tried again, 'And you have yet to catch on to even the
most
rudimentary aspects of taking to the shadows, what is your excuse for this?'
'I get claustrophobic trying to stick to close to walls and the alleys!' he
said,
a look of mock terror on his face.
'Enough!' Glinar roared, 'You shall never be worthy of membership in this guild, go
join the warriors guild, or perhaps farm apples you simpleton, let it be known that
it takes more to learn at the feet of the master!'
Slowly, the fire hair youth sat up, rubbing his backside, and taking in the sights of river road.
'It would seem,' he says to himself slyly, 'That I have chosen my side, I'd rather not
subject myself to the rule of that megalomaniac anyways. . . I think I shall seek freer pastures.'
Turning his gaze south, he stood up, and skipped merrily into the woods. Dark eyes following his
suspiciously as he went. . .
In which his secret origin is revealed.
Added Thu Jan 14 08:46:37 2010 at level 34:
He stood over the charred corpse of the thief, his axe wailing its
first triumph, a litany of a hunger that only tore at him more even
as he fed it for the first time. He raised his head, letting out
a great cry of Glory for the emp- only to be cut short
by the dull crack of the unseen felars staff connecting
with the base of his skull.
Reeling, he found himself staggering to his feet in the
dark temple of Galadon. Racing back to where he fell,
he arrived only in time to see the assassin raise his axe
over his head, but as he smote it upon the stones
below, releasing the soul of its sole captive, something
happened.
As if in slow motion, as the axe connected with the
ground, its blade shattering, a brilliant white light
overtook the assassin, and then he found himself
floating in a brilliant white light. Slowly, things
began to reform. He stared up, started, at what he
was certain was his own body, though the confused
blue eyes reminded him of the thief on whom his
axe had so recently feasted. He tried to reach for
him, intent on strangling the life out of his former
body, only to see transparent black hands reaching
out before him.
Then his lost body began to move, and he found himself
helplessly dragged along, bound foot to foot with his
former victim. Glowering, and trying to find the dark
magic within himself to strike at his unknowing captor. . .
in which part of the past is revealed
Added Mon Jan 18 10:38:01 2010 at level 36:
He awoke with a start, sweat beading on his skin, breaking apart
the charred ash still clinging to his face from his first glimpse of
the noldarian forge. The dream had been different this time, this
dream had vividly depicted his past, a glimpse of who he had once
been.
Loss of innocence comes in many forms, but perhaps the loss
of faith in ones parents is one of the most tragic. His dream had
been of a youth in the black city. Always before, he had dreamed
of looking on it from afar with terror, but this time he found
himself walking the streets, between his parents, a gay smile on
his face, clueless of the terrors he was to soon witness.
The scene of his daily walk to the imperial academy was interrupted
by a scene of watching from his hiding spot, in an alcove off of the
imperial square, as his father raced from the palace, pursuing a
fleeing felar garbed in animal skins. The felar would have made
it away, if his mother had not materialized from the shadows,
a filament wire choking the consciousness from the cat even as
he cried for mercy. Slowly a crowd of dark warriors gathered
around the prone felar. . .
In which our hero finally recalls his own death.
Added Mon Jan 18 10:41:47 2010 at level 36:
The next night the dream continued. He saw the felar ripped to
pieces as the crowd descended upon him. It was not the violence
he later found so abhorrent upon reflection, it was the glee. The
cried of triumph in the name of the empire and the glory of the
emperor.
That night he had questioned his father about it, and for the first
time, was beaten cruelly for the impertinence of his curiosity.
He stole away in the night, only to be found the next morning
by his father. They argued again, young Cjelli decrying the
dark city and its unholy ruler. His father had raised his flaming
axe above his head, and even as he lay burning and cloven in twain,
the last of his consciousness streaming into the unholy axe, he saw the
very felar his parents had slaughtered the day before running up
from behind, a look of horror because he was too late.
Then, there was the oubliette, the obsidian walls that seemed to
crush him for an eternity, and the realization of the depth of the
betrayal he had been dealt as the memories flooded back.
Unseen behind him, the red eyes glowered from his shadow. . .
PK Wins
Jan 15, 2010|Lv 34|Outskirts of Galadon|Ovineas vs 2: Jasoi (44%,KB), Cjelli (55%)
Jan 15, 2010|Lv 34|Silverwood|Soctophoy vs 1: Cjelli (100%,KB)
Jan 24, 2010|Lv 41|The Outlander Refuge|Nemaly vs 1: Cjelli (100%,KB)
Jan 24, 2010|Lv 41|Forest of Prosimy|Nemaly vs 1: Cjelli (100%,KB)
PK Deaths
Jan 15, 2010|Lv 34|A Wagon-Marked Road|vs 1: Ovineas (100%,KB)
Jan 21, 2010|Lv 38|The Drogran Hills|vs 1: Melememelem (100%,KB)
Jan 31, 2010|Lv 45|Silverwood|vs 1: Melememelem (100%,KB)
Mar 3, 2010 |Lv 45|The Outlander Refuge|vs 1: Brewent (100%,KB)