Bryn Durnin
Nov 28, 2016 17:22:55 GMT -6
Post by Bryn on Nov 28, 2016 17:22:55 GMT -6
Name: Bryn Durnin
Class: Shaman
Age: 20
Born in: Sacae
Appearance:
Green hair marks many tribesmen of the Sacae plains as true sons and daughters of Hanon and Bryn is no different. His hair is a deep sea green, cut to hang about his shoulders and haphazardly framing his face as if to clarify his true origin. His eyes are unremarkably blue, though they sit large in his face because of his dubious descent. Observant and intelligent, Bryn's face is normally schooled into an emotionless mask though oftentimes his unique interests will get the better of him and his face will break into an eager smile and twinkling eyes.
Bryn eschewed his native Sacae tribesmen garb for the more progressive clothing found in the capital. Normally he wears supple leather boots, some brown cotton trousers, and a grey tunic to hide the stains of travel. By his side he wears an old horse-leather satchel filled with books, herbs, and all the various knickknacks he picks up along the way.
As all self-respecting mages do, Bryn owns a cloak. Used partially to hide his hands, mostly to stay out of the rain, and just a bit for that cool billow-y effect when he calls upon the Nether. His cloak is a deep purple, faded with long exposure to the elements; thus what was a full length piece of cloth as a child now reaches only to his knees. On the back of this is a dreamcatcher, sewn in by his mother as a Sacaen charm to protect against the powers he would call upon later in life.
Personality:
|Eloquent Delivery|
Being a bit ostracized because of his mixed blood, Bryn spent the majority of his time with his mother and picked up her more fanciful way of speech. Where a man of the plains is generally idealized as forthright and straight to the point, Bryn has a tendency to flourish his words with his own insight and humor. Speaking has become a recreational pastime for him; one he takes great pride in sharing with the world.
|Scholarly Cravings|
As a pupil of magic, curiosity is a sure path to power. When the new and unique enter Bryn's line of sight he gets the inquisitive urge to explore and pontificate. The world has so many interesting customs, people, and tomes that he often can't help but to gaze in awe at the world around him.
|Indignant Dependent|
To his own dismay Bryn is horribly unprepared to survive in the world around him. When he initially left his home he had grand dreams of ancient tombs and powerful relics, only to be found by a merchant caravan in the open plains delirious with heatstroke. Despite much of his knowledge being extremely useful he has never considered how to survive on his own, and even with his steady accumulation of wisdom and skills he still lacks the power to forge his own destiny.
Story:
The tale of Bryn's birth is a bit of a mixed basket. His father left the Sacae plains in search of adventure and to better himself and eventually returned five years later with a foreign wife in tow. And there was much jubilation. Of course, a woman introduced to a nomadic tribe could have been aghast at such an uncivilized lifestyle, but his mother took it in stride, quickly adopting many of the people's customs and making herself useful tending to camp as her husband was away foraging. It would have simply been a cut and dry story of how love triumphs over adversity... had it not been for the magic.
The returning warrior's wife it turns out, was a mage. Not of either of the more benign strands of magic either, as she had sold herself to the Nether. At times she would act the normal blushing bride, yet at others she would be strange and disconnected. Eerie. Time passed, and as the tribe continued to keep her at arms length, a child was born.
At Bryn's birth, his mother invoked the nether so that it might connect with her child. Later, she explained that it was an ancestral tradition - but in that moment half-delirious from exertion and the call of her magic, the midwives fled in fear and the tribe's laxing guard tightened once again.
Bryn was born rambunctious and inquisitive, and though his mother may have been a black sheep, he was held aloft by his grandfather and the rest of the elders in satisfaction. In his younger years he was taught horse riding and archery, preforming the former much better than the latter, though even on a horse he could not best the cousins in his tribe. His mother taught him how to spot herbs for poultices, grind them into a paste, and in the wee hours of the morning would make him meditate and study her tomes. Those years were golden.
During his teenage years his tribe was attacked by bandits. This happened from time to time regardless, yet this time was special. His father was dealt a fatal blow. In desperation his mother attempted to save her love by using elder magic openly and with great force. Despite her contributions however, her husband died and the tribe's tolerance to the looming disaster that was Bryn's mother snapped. They would take care of their warrior's son, but his wife had no place among them any longer. So in one day Bryn lost both his parents.
Alone in the tribe despite his grandparents and cousins, Bryn withdrew into himself and in the few books his mother left him. As time passed he prepared himself for a journey outside the tribe, secretly practicing his mother's magic and passing down the trick for mixing certain herbs to his closer friends. When the time came, he set off into the world enthusiastically and certain of his superiority.
He isn't quite certain what happened after that.
Found half-dead in the Sacaen plains, Bryn was escorted by a kind merchant to Bulgar, where he settled down for two years, getting by on working at an apothecary's shop. Back on his feet and this time with money in his pocket and perhaps a better plan than before, Bryn thinks it might finally be time. Time to set out in the wider world and see everything it has to offer.
Class: Shaman
Age: 20
Born in: Sacae
Appearance:
Green hair marks many tribesmen of the Sacae plains as true sons and daughters of Hanon and Bryn is no different. His hair is a deep sea green, cut to hang about his shoulders and haphazardly framing his face as if to clarify his true origin. His eyes are unremarkably blue, though they sit large in his face because of his dubious descent. Observant and intelligent, Bryn's face is normally schooled into an emotionless mask though oftentimes his unique interests will get the better of him and his face will break into an eager smile and twinkling eyes.
Bryn eschewed his native Sacae tribesmen garb for the more progressive clothing found in the capital. Normally he wears supple leather boots, some brown cotton trousers, and a grey tunic to hide the stains of travel. By his side he wears an old horse-leather satchel filled with books, herbs, and all the various knickknacks he picks up along the way.
As all self-respecting mages do, Bryn owns a cloak. Used partially to hide his hands, mostly to stay out of the rain, and just a bit for that cool billow-y effect when he calls upon the Nether. His cloak is a deep purple, faded with long exposure to the elements; thus what was a full length piece of cloth as a child now reaches only to his knees. On the back of this is a dreamcatcher, sewn in by his mother as a Sacaen charm to protect against the powers he would call upon later in life.
Personality:
|Eloquent Delivery|
Being a bit ostracized because of his mixed blood, Bryn spent the majority of his time with his mother and picked up her more fanciful way of speech. Where a man of the plains is generally idealized as forthright and straight to the point, Bryn has a tendency to flourish his words with his own insight and humor. Speaking has become a recreational pastime for him; one he takes great pride in sharing with the world.
|Scholarly Cravings|
As a pupil of magic, curiosity is a sure path to power. When the new and unique enter Bryn's line of sight he gets the inquisitive urge to explore and pontificate. The world has so many interesting customs, people, and tomes that he often can't help but to gaze in awe at the world around him.
|Indignant Dependent|
To his own dismay Bryn is horribly unprepared to survive in the world around him. When he initially left his home he had grand dreams of ancient tombs and powerful relics, only to be found by a merchant caravan in the open plains delirious with heatstroke. Despite much of his knowledge being extremely useful he has never considered how to survive on his own, and even with his steady accumulation of wisdom and skills he still lacks the power to forge his own destiny.
Story:
The tale of Bryn's birth is a bit of a mixed basket. His father left the Sacae plains in search of adventure and to better himself and eventually returned five years later with a foreign wife in tow. And there was much jubilation. Of course, a woman introduced to a nomadic tribe could have been aghast at such an uncivilized lifestyle, but his mother took it in stride, quickly adopting many of the people's customs and making herself useful tending to camp as her husband was away foraging. It would have simply been a cut and dry story of how love triumphs over adversity... had it not been for the magic.
The returning warrior's wife it turns out, was a mage. Not of either of the more benign strands of magic either, as she had sold herself to the Nether. At times she would act the normal blushing bride, yet at others she would be strange and disconnected. Eerie. Time passed, and as the tribe continued to keep her at arms length, a child was born.
At Bryn's birth, his mother invoked the nether so that it might connect with her child. Later, she explained that it was an ancestral tradition - but in that moment half-delirious from exertion and the call of her magic, the midwives fled in fear and the tribe's laxing guard tightened once again.
Bryn was born rambunctious and inquisitive, and though his mother may have been a black sheep, he was held aloft by his grandfather and the rest of the elders in satisfaction. In his younger years he was taught horse riding and archery, preforming the former much better than the latter, though even on a horse he could not best the cousins in his tribe. His mother taught him how to spot herbs for poultices, grind them into a paste, and in the wee hours of the morning would make him meditate and study her tomes. Those years were golden.
During his teenage years his tribe was attacked by bandits. This happened from time to time regardless, yet this time was special. His father was dealt a fatal blow. In desperation his mother attempted to save her love by using elder magic openly and with great force. Despite her contributions however, her husband died and the tribe's tolerance to the looming disaster that was Bryn's mother snapped. They would take care of their warrior's son, but his wife had no place among them any longer. So in one day Bryn lost both his parents.
Alone in the tribe despite his grandparents and cousins, Bryn withdrew into himself and in the few books his mother left him. As time passed he prepared himself for a journey outside the tribe, secretly practicing his mother's magic and passing down the trick for mixing certain herbs to his closer friends. When the time came, he set off into the world enthusiastically and certain of his superiority.
He isn't quite certain what happened after that.
Found half-dead in the Sacaen plains, Bryn was escorted by a kind merchant to Bulgar, where he settled down for two years, getting by on working at an apothecary's shop. Back on his feet and this time with money in his pocket and perhaps a better plan than before, Bryn thinks it might finally be time. Time to set out in the wider world and see everything it has to offer.
Kirala-Daughter