Moreau
Nov 27, 2017 20:55:16 GMT -6
Post by Moreau on Nov 27, 2017 20:55:16 GMT -6
Name: Moreau
Class: Acolyte
Dragon Element: N/A
Age: 60
Born in: Taras, Etruria
Appearance: Moreau (More-oh) stands about six feet tall, is dark skinned, has a horseshoe head of black hair from balding, and a goatee and mustache around the mouth. He walks with a slight limp in one leg, but is in rather good shape for his age. He carries a long walking staff and wears a robe with a red and black scarf, traditionally worn by the monks in the monastery where he grew up.
Personality: Having been raised by monks, he is humble, selfless, kind, and quiet. He is well educated and quite wise, but can be naive and overly trusting due to his life disconnected from the world. He tries to avoid fighting, partially because of his peaceful nature, partially because of his lack of experience with it.
History: Moreau was born in Etruria, but never knew his parents, and was raised by monks in a monastery in the mountains near Taras. He spent most of his life there shielded from the outside world. While making a repair on the roof of one of the monastery's buildings when he was younger, he slipped and badly hurt his leg, which gave him a limp ever since. Though he never practiced with it, he understands basic light magic simply due to witnessing others who wielded it well.
Three years earlier Moreau decided that he needed to go out and see this world he lived in before he went on to the next. With only a walking staff his fellow monks had gifted him, an old leather satchel, and a light tome, with which he had little experience, he left the mountains, first for Sacae, as a wanderer intent on seeing the world.
NPC fight: The stocky bandit slowly stepped out onto the path in front of Moreau. His grip tightened on his walking staff, and beads of sweat began to form on his brow. "I don't carry anything of value, my friend, I simply ask that you may let me go on my way." The bandit was not feeling merciful. "No one gets through for free no matta what they got on em!" Moreau let out a sigh, clearly talking wasn't going to be much use here. Pretending to be much more feeble than he truly was, he reached for the light tome he carried in an aged satchel over his shoulder. "Whatcha got in there old man?!" As the thug made a step in his direction, Moreau quickly fired off a beam of light which miraculously struck the thug square in the chest. The ruffian let out a yell, and dug his foot into the ground behind him to regain his balance. "You'll pay for that!" he shouted before sprinting forwards. Moreau quickly sent out two more rays, the first missing badly and singing some leaves off a nearby tree, and the second passing clean over the assailant. He had forgotten how tiring using the spell in rapid succession was, and made a mental note to be more tactful with his attacks. The bandit leaped into the air, axe held high, and smiled maniacally as he brought it down. Moreau dove to the side just in time, as the ruffian came down with unbridled force, burying his axehead into the ground. The force of the dive had sent them both to the ground, but Moreau pushed himself up with the aid of his staff and quickly turned towards the bandit. As the attacker yanked his weapon from the dirt and turned to Moreau it was already too late, and one more beam of light struck him down, falling face first where he stood.
PC fight: Moreau knew his odds weren't good against the more nimble swordsman. He simply stared at the end of their blade unsure of what to do first. Deciding that perhaps not engaging in any way would bode best for his own well being, he pulled over a small stack of barrels between him and his opponent, quickly turning and running into a nearby burned down home.
Class: Acolyte
Dragon Element: N/A
Age: 60
Born in: Taras, Etruria
Appearance: Moreau (More-oh) stands about six feet tall, is dark skinned, has a horseshoe head of black hair from balding, and a goatee and mustache around the mouth. He walks with a slight limp in one leg, but is in rather good shape for his age. He carries a long walking staff and wears a robe with a red and black scarf, traditionally worn by the monks in the monastery where he grew up.
Personality: Having been raised by monks, he is humble, selfless, kind, and quiet. He is well educated and quite wise, but can be naive and overly trusting due to his life disconnected from the world. He tries to avoid fighting, partially because of his peaceful nature, partially because of his lack of experience with it.
History: Moreau was born in Etruria, but never knew his parents, and was raised by monks in a monastery in the mountains near Taras. He spent most of his life there shielded from the outside world. While making a repair on the roof of one of the monastery's buildings when he was younger, he slipped and badly hurt his leg, which gave him a limp ever since. Though he never practiced with it, he understands basic light magic simply due to witnessing others who wielded it well.
Three years earlier Moreau decided that he needed to go out and see this world he lived in before he went on to the next. With only a walking staff his fellow monks had gifted him, an old leather satchel, and a light tome, with which he had little experience, he left the mountains, first for Sacae, as a wanderer intent on seeing the world.
NPC fight: The stocky bandit slowly stepped out onto the path in front of Moreau. His grip tightened on his walking staff, and beads of sweat began to form on his brow. "I don't carry anything of value, my friend, I simply ask that you may let me go on my way." The bandit was not feeling merciful. "No one gets through for free no matta what they got on em!" Moreau let out a sigh, clearly talking wasn't going to be much use here. Pretending to be much more feeble than he truly was, he reached for the light tome he carried in an aged satchel over his shoulder. "Whatcha got in there old man?!" As the thug made a step in his direction, Moreau quickly fired off a beam of light which miraculously struck the thug square in the chest. The ruffian let out a yell, and dug his foot into the ground behind him to regain his balance. "You'll pay for that!" he shouted before sprinting forwards. Moreau quickly sent out two more rays, the first missing badly and singing some leaves off a nearby tree, and the second passing clean over the assailant. He had forgotten how tiring using the spell in rapid succession was, and made a mental note to be more tactful with his attacks. The bandit leaped into the air, axe held high, and smiled maniacally as he brought it down. Moreau dove to the side just in time, as the ruffian came down with unbridled force, burying his axehead into the ground. The force of the dive had sent them both to the ground, but Moreau pushed himself up with the aid of his staff and quickly turned towards the bandit. As the attacker yanked his weapon from the dirt and turned to Moreau it was already too late, and one more beam of light struck him down, falling face first where he stood.
PC fight: Moreau knew his odds weren't good against the more nimble swordsman. He simply stared at the end of their blade unsure of what to do first. Deciding that perhaps not engaging in any way would bode best for his own well being, he pulled over a small stack of barrels between him and his opponent, quickly turning and running into a nearby burned down home.