Description
You see before you a handsome man, who stretches about six feet in
length. His hair is black as a raven's feathers, and is very well kept,
hanging about his shoulders at a uniform length. His skin is pale, and fairly
smooth, though age and adventuring have given it a slight tan and a more
distinguished look, you might expect he was extremely handsome in his
younger days. His eyes are blue, and almost seem to burn with passion,
but as you look upon his face as a whole, his expression is quite calm, and
you might expect he is very much in control of his emotions. He is not a
particularly large man, but there is strength in him, his shoulders are broad
and he is somewhat barrel chested. His arms and legs are thick, and his
hands seem big for one of his stature. You see a piece of fine blue silk
sticking out of his armor near his neck.
Role
A knife in the dark.
Added Sat Jul 1 07:54:32 2006 at level 1:
The diplomat's steps echoed through the empty Avenue of Retribution, he
passed through the Square of the Clarion and smiled as he stepped onto the
walk in front of the River City Butchery. Through the next plaza and
around the bend and he would be home. Home to his loving wife and their
seven children. He lengthened his stride as he passed by Guldencrantz and
Sons peering into the shadows created by the awning. He still didn't like
that awning, but his old friend the jeweler was quite fond of it. He smiled
as he continued into the Plaza of the Shining Fount, he passed two of the
city's guard, who both straightened up and saluted him, he returned the
salute and continued through, aiming for the alleyway between the toy store
and the Sailor's Fathom, his favorite Inn in the city. But there would be no
pints of ale tonight, he had been away to Galadon discussing trade on the
river, and was anxious to see his wife and children, though he supposed the
children would be in bed at this hour. All of the sudden, his stride faltered,
and pain coursed through his body, firing from his left side up into his chest
and causing him to collapse. A savage blow to the side of his head
followed and carried him to the ground. He slipped in and out of
consciousness as the vagabonds rummaged through his fine robes. They
confiscated his rings and his pendant of Voralia, a medallion of silver and
gold that indicated his rank as a diplomat. A final kick to his side and they
melted into the shadows as he fell into darkness.
The turn of fate.
Added Sat Jul 1 07:56:48 2006 at level 1:
Two weeks had passed since the attack on his father, and it still upset him.
His father survived, luckily a passing sailor noticed his form in the
alleyway and they got him to the healing houses before he lost too much
blood, but he would never walk as tall and proud as he once had. The
vicious stab had nearly paralyzed him and the healers believed he would
forever walk with a limp and need a cane. Jeir had fought to keep his rage
bottled up, as he had always been prone to outbursts of anger and violence.
Now that he was a teenager, his hormones caused even more episodes of
uncontrolled emotion.
He strode through the Square of the Unbreakable blade, happy to be done
with his training for the day. He was practicing to become a warrior, his
father was sending him off to the academy in two years. The setting sun
glinted off a man's ring as he passed by, Jeir shielded his eyes and looked
down. He stopped dead in his tracks, and his rage overwhelmed him. The
passerby didn't even see the first punch as it smashed into the right side of
his face. As he fell, Jeir pressed the attack, pummeling the man with his
unusually large and powerful hands. The man weakly punched back,
connecting with the lip of the enraged teenager and drawing blood, but the
onslaught of Jeir was much too ferocious. Another blow and his nose
exploded, blood splashing as it crunched with a sickening echo. The man
was losing consciousness quickly and reached for his concealed dagger, but
it was too late. He passed into darkness with a final blow to the head. Jeir
did not stop. He hit again and again, finally hearing the man's skull crack.
Finally, two guards who had been only on the other side of the square
tackled Jeir and restrained him on the ground. In less than a minute, the
fourteen year old boy had killed a man with his own hands. He cried and
screamed in grief as more guards showed up, and they drug him off to the
"Emotion clouds thought, and judgment is improperly served."
Added Sat Jul 1 07:59:13 2006 at level 1:
The old knight set down his quill and called to his squire, "Boy, prepare the horses,
today is the day that we return."
Jeir hurriedly prepared their horses and gathered his lord's armor. He was
finally going home, as happiness rose within him, he immediately checked
it. "Emotion clouds thought, and judgment is improperly served," he said
to himself. He had to say that to himself at least three times a day, though
he was starting to need it less and less. The old knight was a monk of the
Golden Crane, and his Lord was Dalteric, the Serene Monk. After the
murder, Jeir's father had sent him to this old man, an old friend who once
protected him while on a dangerous diplomatic mission to Udgaard. For
nearly two years the old man had pushed Jeir's physical and mental limits,
training him and helping him overcome his wild emotions. Now it was
time for him to see his family one last time and off to the academy and the
guild of paladins. He was on to a new life, one of servitude and piety. He
tucked his father's medallion of Voralia under his clothes and called to his
lord.
"My Lord, we are ready to depart!"
The passing of the patriarch.
Added Mon Aug 28 21:11:13 2006 at level 44:
A writing from Jeir to his oldest brother, who chases pirates as a ship
captain on the Dragon Sea.
Greetings brother, I hope this letter finds you at peace,
I am afraid I have some bad news my brother. Just today, the Day of
Freedom, 4th of the Month of Dark Shades, our beloved father has finally
passed. He had fallen down the back stairway, just outside of his office,
only three weeks ago. I healed him as best as I could then, but I think it
was then that his stout soul realized that the gods had been calling him for
too long. He stubbornly clung to life, as stubbornly as he clung to it the
night he was accosted, but the call of the Azure Fields upon his soul was
too much for his mortal body to resist this time. He is with the gods now,
watching over us. In his will, he has given you the apartments, I am not
sure if you had heard, but he had purchased some large tracts of land to the
northwest of the city, and a small estate in the Easthaven Village. He has
divided the farmland amongst our four brothers, and given to me the estate.
I have given it to the Voralian Order, until I have a family of my own.
Mother is well, she will stay in the apartments of course. Our sister is
expecting her first child within the year, and her husband still rants about
the exotic Seantryn cognac you confiscated from those buccaneers. Our
brother's families have not changed since last you visited. I remain it
seems, the lone bachelor, and now that I must take on the name of the
family, I suppose I will seek a wife. There are two women I have met that
would suit me, and I am sure mother will approve, and father would have.
One is an elven maiden, Amariele is her name. She is beautiful, and her
hair is the much like the color of fire, how mother's was when she was
young. Imagine the standing our family would take with elven blood in our
line. Father would be quite proud. The other is the daughter of a Voralian
nobleman, a Miss Etwen Yerdhem. She is less beautiful than the elven
maiden, but that is to be expected no? I am drawn to Miss Yerdhem, she is
a strong woman, and would give me fine boys, I am sure.
I must tell you brother, I am also distressed. At the moment that father
passed, I knelt to pray to my Lord Dalteric. His presence seems distant to
me brother. With the strange events going on that I seem to be involved in,
I must say, my soul is slightly troubled. I will write again soon, and look
forward to your reply.
May the Serene Lord calm the waters you sail in, so that you might bring
Judgment to those who terrorize the seas.
Jeir Govanion, Humble Servant of the Golden Crane, Magistrate of the Voralian City, Knight of the Voralian Order.
Lastname and new direction.
Added Mon Aug 28 21:14:08 2006 at level 44:
The tradition of nobles in the Voralian City dictates that upon passing, the
youngest son in good standing is to take the pure form of the family name.
In Jeir's case, he is the youngest son, so the family name of Govanion is
given to him to perpetuate. His brothers will all take on the name of
Govan. Jeir will slowly begin to lose the tight control he had over his wild
emotion due to the fact that Dalteric is gone. He will be slightly more
inclined to an emotional outburst here and there but will overall remain
pretty calm. He will attempt to become more involved in the Voralian
Order, but will remain monkish in his ways, perhaps trying to take on a
"leadership" role amongst the remaining priests of Dalteric, simply to
perpetuate Peace and Reason, leading to fair Judgment.