Lark
May 19, 2018 10:16:11 GMT -6
Post by Lark on May 19, 2018 10:16:11 GMT -6
Name: Lark
Class: Mage -> Mage Knight
Dragon Element: N/A
Age: 19
Born in: Ligure, Etruria
Appearance: Tall and lanky, Lark doesn't support the kind of build that an expert gardener would have; his physical demeanor says bookworm, and though his mind is sharp and his physique indeed weak, he has a great store of stamina and a heart in great shape. He has a messy shock of bright green hair and thin, wide lips. His face is accented with a slender nose and piercing blue eyes that often sparkle with more emotion than the rest of his face might offer. He wears a simple white tunic and slender-fitting pants, adorned with a brown traveling cloak with his family's crest pinned to its right shoulder.
Personality: Eager to learn and grow, Lark is easy to get along with and easy to get to know, even if he doesn't show the kind of physical fortitude to be intimidating, suave, or otherwise physically appealing. He is highly motivated, easygoing, and loves to laugh. He is quick on the draw with a sharp wit and practiced mind. Though he lacks in worldly experience, he is always eager to learn more, which makes him very approachable. This same lack of experience, however, does make him naive, often unwittingly finding himself in dangerous situations that could be avoided if he were more self-reflective. His sheltered life has made Lark a bit slow to pick up on self-preservation skills, and as such, he is often taken advantage of. His eagerness has also lost him gold and probably a year or two from his life after losing fights he had no business being in to begin with.
History: Born to a pair of unstudied apple farmers, Lark began his life in as country a way as any Etrurian could. From as young as he could remember, he had calloused hands and feet, as well as a sun-kissed tint to his skin, from the hours he spent out in his family's orchard. He received a basic education, declining to pursue any military or scholarly occupation after finishing his basic training, instead choosing to return to his family's farm for the two years after he finished.
Here, he learned to cultivate gardens, care for various types of fruit and vegetables, and also picked up some persuasive skills that helped him become a salesman who would bring in more money for his family than they'd have had without his influence. Bright and cheery, the young Lark felt he'd found a place to call his own.
It did not last, however, as Lark's parents urged him in earnest to pursue something of merit so that his youth and skills were not wasted on the farm. After being promised the farm upon his parents death, he departed a bit later than most for Delfia where he enrolled in a magic academy to receive a basic training in the elements.
Upon his initial graduation, having become a pupil to a man he loathed, he decided to take some time off, and instead of enlisting in the Etrurian military, Lark decided to travel the world to learn its secrets for himself. In this way, he hopes to grow his experiences in a way that he feels a more traditional approach would not have given him.
NPC fight: Lark almost fell in the dirt as he clumsily side-stepped the clean swing of the axe blade in front of him. It looked like a white strike of lightning-- the speed at which it came towards him made Lark think perhaps he ought to gain some distance, lest he lose his life.
As quickly as he could, Lark regained his footing and lightly stepped back a few paces, dodging another swing of his opponent's axe. He breathed in quickly and then let it out through his mouth, trying to calm his nerves. This was his second fight, and his muscle memory hadn't really been cemented yet. He outstretched his hand, feeling the well of magical energy in his circuits spring forward from his center out to the tips of his fingers. They felt warm, welcoming. He flicked his wrist, raised his hand up, then sent it out, sending his cape billowing up and around him as the area five meters ahead of him lit, orange-red flames licking around the dried grass. He hadn't nailed his opponent, though, which was a tragedy: having been too occupied with the spectacle of his magical display, the axe-wielder had come around his side and was bringing the heavy weapon back for what he figured would be an ending blow.
"Ah!" Lark gasped, his blue eyes widening. He dropped to the ground and rolled out of the way, hearing the blade crunch firmly into the earth. Clumsily, he got to his feet and outstretched his hand again, his target perfectly in his sights. "Hah! I knew I could do this!"
A bright smile on his face, he loosed another small fireball, this one coming from his hand much faster than the previous. It made contact, and Lark foolishly stood still and observed the scene while the man quickly put the flames out, coughed heavily, and continued his advance. Lark felt more sweat accrue at his hairline.
PC fight: There was too much distance between them, and he knew that. He narrowed his eyes, biting the edge of his tongue trying to concentrate to the best of his ability. "Steady," he breathed aloud to himself, repeating the words one of his tutors had said to him many a time when he'd foolishly loosed a lightning bolt in the wrong direction or without enough control to contain the blast.
The man ahead of him had noticed his presence and had drawn his blade, but was choosing not to close the distance between them. Likely, he was waiting to see what Lark would do-- it was easy to tell he was still fresh, barely out of the academy, and as soon as Lark attacked, no doubt the man would come forward. So, the green-haired bundle of inexperience knew he had to make his first shot count.
What to use? He perused his mind, trying to find an answer to the conundrum. A basic thunder attack would be too telegraphed-- the man would see it coming and close their distance immediately. Fire could work, but it was a touch slower, and on a cloudy day like this, perhaps a bit too easy to see as well. That, Lark decided, left a wind attack. He wasn't as practiced with fire or thunder anyway, so perhaps it would be best to begin his assault with something with which he was familiar.
He reached out from somewhere in his core, feeling the light breeze trickle across his cape and around his wrists, seeming to bring it up in front of him. He wasn't skilled enough for a concentrated blast that could cut or slice, so he'd go with something more brute. Spreading his fingers apart, Lark drew his hand back, taking in a deep breath as he did so, and then in a flash his hand shot forward, the air around it rippling furiously as a hammer-sized column of air shot out in front of him, whizzing quickly and loudly through the air currents running in different directions around it. It was quick, it was forward, and he supposed, probably easy to dodge. But if the man hadn't expected it, or if he got lucky, it would hit him square in the chest, send him flying back, and then he could make his escape.
Lark parted his feet, trying to prepare himself for whatever would come next.
Class: Mage -> Mage Knight
Dragon Element: N/A
Age: 19
Born in: Ligure, Etruria
Appearance: Tall and lanky, Lark doesn't support the kind of build that an expert gardener would have; his physical demeanor says bookworm, and though his mind is sharp and his physique indeed weak, he has a great store of stamina and a heart in great shape. He has a messy shock of bright green hair and thin, wide lips. His face is accented with a slender nose and piercing blue eyes that often sparkle with more emotion than the rest of his face might offer. He wears a simple white tunic and slender-fitting pants, adorned with a brown traveling cloak with his family's crest pinned to its right shoulder.
Personality: Eager to learn and grow, Lark is easy to get along with and easy to get to know, even if he doesn't show the kind of physical fortitude to be intimidating, suave, or otherwise physically appealing. He is highly motivated, easygoing, and loves to laugh. He is quick on the draw with a sharp wit and practiced mind. Though he lacks in worldly experience, he is always eager to learn more, which makes him very approachable. This same lack of experience, however, does make him naive, often unwittingly finding himself in dangerous situations that could be avoided if he were more self-reflective. His sheltered life has made Lark a bit slow to pick up on self-preservation skills, and as such, he is often taken advantage of. His eagerness has also lost him gold and probably a year or two from his life after losing fights he had no business being in to begin with.
History: Born to a pair of unstudied apple farmers, Lark began his life in as country a way as any Etrurian could. From as young as he could remember, he had calloused hands and feet, as well as a sun-kissed tint to his skin, from the hours he spent out in his family's orchard. He received a basic education, declining to pursue any military or scholarly occupation after finishing his basic training, instead choosing to return to his family's farm for the two years after he finished.
Here, he learned to cultivate gardens, care for various types of fruit and vegetables, and also picked up some persuasive skills that helped him become a salesman who would bring in more money for his family than they'd have had without his influence. Bright and cheery, the young Lark felt he'd found a place to call his own.
It did not last, however, as Lark's parents urged him in earnest to pursue something of merit so that his youth and skills were not wasted on the farm. After being promised the farm upon his parents death, he departed a bit later than most for Delfia where he enrolled in a magic academy to receive a basic training in the elements.
Upon his initial graduation, having become a pupil to a man he loathed, he decided to take some time off, and instead of enlisting in the Etrurian military, Lark decided to travel the world to learn its secrets for himself. In this way, he hopes to grow his experiences in a way that he feels a more traditional approach would not have given him.
NPC fight: Lark almost fell in the dirt as he clumsily side-stepped the clean swing of the axe blade in front of him. It looked like a white strike of lightning-- the speed at which it came towards him made Lark think perhaps he ought to gain some distance, lest he lose his life.
As quickly as he could, Lark regained his footing and lightly stepped back a few paces, dodging another swing of his opponent's axe. He breathed in quickly and then let it out through his mouth, trying to calm his nerves. This was his second fight, and his muscle memory hadn't really been cemented yet. He outstretched his hand, feeling the well of magical energy in his circuits spring forward from his center out to the tips of his fingers. They felt warm, welcoming. He flicked his wrist, raised his hand up, then sent it out, sending his cape billowing up and around him as the area five meters ahead of him lit, orange-red flames licking around the dried grass. He hadn't nailed his opponent, though, which was a tragedy: having been too occupied with the spectacle of his magical display, the axe-wielder had come around his side and was bringing the heavy weapon back for what he figured would be an ending blow.
"Ah!" Lark gasped, his blue eyes widening. He dropped to the ground and rolled out of the way, hearing the blade crunch firmly into the earth. Clumsily, he got to his feet and outstretched his hand again, his target perfectly in his sights. "Hah! I knew I could do this!"
A bright smile on his face, he loosed another small fireball, this one coming from his hand much faster than the previous. It made contact, and Lark foolishly stood still and observed the scene while the man quickly put the flames out, coughed heavily, and continued his advance. Lark felt more sweat accrue at his hairline.
PC fight: There was too much distance between them, and he knew that. He narrowed his eyes, biting the edge of his tongue trying to concentrate to the best of his ability. "Steady," he breathed aloud to himself, repeating the words one of his tutors had said to him many a time when he'd foolishly loosed a lightning bolt in the wrong direction or without enough control to contain the blast.
The man ahead of him had noticed his presence and had drawn his blade, but was choosing not to close the distance between them. Likely, he was waiting to see what Lark would do-- it was easy to tell he was still fresh, barely out of the academy, and as soon as Lark attacked, no doubt the man would come forward. So, the green-haired bundle of inexperience knew he had to make his first shot count.
What to use? He perused his mind, trying to find an answer to the conundrum. A basic thunder attack would be too telegraphed-- the man would see it coming and close their distance immediately. Fire could work, but it was a touch slower, and on a cloudy day like this, perhaps a bit too easy to see as well. That, Lark decided, left a wind attack. He wasn't as practiced with fire or thunder anyway, so perhaps it would be best to begin his assault with something with which he was familiar.
He reached out from somewhere in his core, feeling the light breeze trickle across his cape and around his wrists, seeming to bring it up in front of him. He wasn't skilled enough for a concentrated blast that could cut or slice, so he'd go with something more brute. Spreading his fingers apart, Lark drew his hand back, taking in a deep breath as he did so, and then in a flash his hand shot forward, the air around it rippling furiously as a hammer-sized column of air shot out in front of him, whizzing quickly and loudly through the air currents running in different directions around it. It was quick, it was forward, and he supposed, probably easy to dodge. But if the man hadn't expected it, or if he got lucky, it would hit him square in the chest, send him flying back, and then he could make his escape.
Lark parted his feet, trying to prepare himself for whatever would come next.