Aerendir Val'Istar

[Aerendir]

General

Name: Aerendir Val’Istar
Common Name: Aerendir
Alias: None
Age: 30
Appears: 20 by human standards
Nation of Origin: Unknown, possibly eastern Eyropa
Current Location: Marn; Historic District
Race: Half-Elf

Hair Color: Golden
Eye Color: Emerald
Height: 5 ft. 6 in.
Weight: 120 lbs.
Build: Frail
Skin Color: Pale white


Preferred Hand: Either
Language Comprehension: Common, General Elven

Former Occupation: None
Current Occupation: Loner; Poor traveler

Appearance and Personal Philosophy

Standing at an average five foot and six inches, the young looking Aerendir has the 'ideal' body shape. Study and time with his weapons and personal practice has given him a shapely and hopefully attractive figure. His muscles are soft, but toned, not excessive but easily prominent. They accent his body well, giving a rippling affect beneath the soft skin that covers them. His body is somewhat lithe, of a slim build, and lovingly remains sleek with heavy contours in the correct places. Aerendir's muscles along both arms and legs are sinewy when flexed, an alluringly soft yet delicate shape that catches the eye. His stomach and chest are well toned with hours of work, either by exercising or by training with his weapons. Slim shoulders are lightly toned, and do not absorb his neck like the heavily built men. He is not necessarily bulky, and when not flexing the muscles are often soft and are hardly prevalent features at all. He looks to be more skin and bones than anything at most times.

His hair is a soft and straight, vibrant gold when the sun's rays are allowed to touch it for an extended period of time. When the winter laden clouds hold sway his hair pales to a dull blonde coloration. No matter the season his hair is kept trimmed at his hair line along the back and becomes long as it moves forward towards his face. Locks comprise his bangs hang to his chin in length, but are always kept away from interfering with his eyes. His eyes are a pale emerald color and when he casts his magic spells they tend to take on an intermixing of silver and black, the power swirling through the only visible way to be expressed. The sockets of the eyes are slanted and tilted outwards, making almond shaped eyes that all born of elven descent are infamous for having. His cheekbones are high, but not dominant, barely noticed when not directly in his face. His brows are kept extremely thin, a dirty blonde coloration that has streaks of nearly white hair running through them. His ears, as is accustomed with elves, are long and slender, often dominantly expressed despite a flurry of hair that attempts to keep them out of sight. Finally he has a small nose that is normally overshadowed by the thin, pale lips, which are always a deep cherry hue.

Aerendir's skin is a pale color, and almost never tans. Over exposure in the skin often leads to a somewhat reddened complexion he hates to have happen, so he is very careful to avoid overexposure to the more harsh rays of the sun, or their pronounced reflection in the snow.

The boy’s stride is one of pure dominance, he holds no question in the way he walks as to who is superior and inferior. He always keeps his posture perfect, his shoulders back and his head high, with his eyes hardly straying from his task to study surrounding people or that which is disinteresting. Any warrior that watched him move could recognize his stride as one with a command for the graceful knowledge of combat, his unparalleled poise hard to question compared to any of the brutish warriors that could at times find themselves against him. (Though his abilities are far from focused and perfected at best). In battle his eloquence in step is further heightened, his style of fighting both beautiful and brutal. His leather boots move heel to toe, giving him leverage at any time he requires in order to bound forward suddenly or pry his heels against the ground in order to keep him firmly grounded. The man almost never smiles, his lips in a state between a grimace and a smirk at almost all times. Most believe that he does not feel, though their assumptions would be base and unrealistic. All creatures feel, and Aerendir is after all, at the heart of his being, just another creature. Though some assume he does not feel, he indeed does and he feels emotions very deeply.

The half-elves voice is without question one of his strongest features. It is pronounced and strong, normally putting to shame the commanders who feel the desire to do combat with him. On the field of battle he would be known to be the most dominant voice, and at times the vocal dominance would be the sway of a skirmish. Being a spell-sword (at heart at least) the songs of magic require a very difficult necessity for the wielder to be able to change pitch and tone in split seconds. He is demeaning, demanding, and in all ways shows both characteristics in the way he speaks as well as the tone he assumes. His expectations of others is to be at the very least equal to his expectations of himself, but so lofty a weight to assume, what he clings to is far too much to believe in for others (hence the tone). When he speaks to another person he always peers directly into their eyes. He believes that a man who is unwilling to look another in the eye is one to not be trusted, whereas one unable to is one who is far too weak to bother with. His assumed superiority is without a doubt the most unnerving concept to ignore when interactions bring someone, unfortunately, into contact with the half-elf.

He has the unintentional issue with delving far too deeply into a subject he is pondering, or overanalyzing a single emotion expressed. It is not that he does not feel, no, it is that he feels far too much and has been pushed far beyond expressing every single shift of the every changing ideology and deliberation that plagues his mind. A man of thought and of reason, though not without his own biased opinions, he tends to find himself amidst a throne of books and documents. Personal beliefs that he holds are unquestionably the reason he partakes upon certain ventures, and in turn the result of such excursions are often easily explained by his person philosophy. The lack of centered, realistic, and base beliefs in the cultures that currently run rampant like a plague across the lands of Pal Tahrenor is a grave matter to Aerendir. He finds that the world has been without sophisticated and intellectual reason for some time and is well versed in the multitudes of philosophical idea's that can bring the world back into a less chaotic and more realistic sense.

Though philosophical thought can be implied and debated in any forum and at any time, there are other passions that the boy holds dear. His love of the linguistic qualities of the world has forced him, in a way, to nearly perfect the native tongues of humans and elven kind. This self-imposed necessity of perfection, and the verbose and stylistic use of the languages he has mastered have put him a full head and shoulders above even those that have been speaking only one of the languages since their birth. Only the fluent elves can, in the most average citizen's use of the language, understand and continue a dialogue with him that is as high in the native diction. This is oft time more of a curse than a boon, as he does not degrade his own speech patterns nor his beloved vocabulary in order to bring the comprehension of what he is saying to a level of commoners.

In relation to a singular god, or multiple gods, the half-elf has the utmost disrespect for the necessity of belief in them. He believes that any god is no more than a person who can control others, both body and mind. This leads to the viewpoint of people that place their faith in the ultimate will of a higher power being no more than a pawn to their own misguided religious philosophy. Nothing, in his opinion, is more powerful than his own will to survive, and the strength of an individual rests in that which they have learned in their life time, as opposed to what may be illogically perceived as a 'boon' from the deity they follow. He will, and does, whatever he can to oppose religion in any front it may take in order to control society, and in turn will do what he can to change others minds. Those that are far too ignorant to be swayed against their beliefs are often cast aside as more idiotic than those that cannot comprehend his speech, and if not killed they are the lucky few.



Weapons:

Guan Do

Material :: Steel

Description :: The weapon of choice for the half-elf is a deviously designed guan-do, a widened bladed horse spear. The head of the weapon is made of steel, brushed instead of polished in order to alleviate as much reflection from the weapon. The tang of the weapon continues through the first foot of the shaft, and along the point where the steel and wood meet there is a wide band of weighted steel in order to maintain balance. A five foot shaft of oak creates the smooth, comfortable portion of the weapon that the wielder is in contact with. Without signs of wear, it is obvious the weapon has not been used often, despite two small nicks in it.


Armor:

Boiled Leather Chest plate

Material :: Hardened, boiled leather with thin steel plates.

Description :: A chest-plate of hardened, boiled leather covers Aerendir’s torso and back. It extends to his collar bone before wrapping over his shoulders and continuing down his back. It is sleeveless, so as not to interfere with the radial motion of his shoulders. In order to don the armor he needs to do nothing more than slips it over his head. Along the ribs is a network of interlaced leather that he can pull tight to make it fit snugly or loosen, depending on the situational necessity.


Items:

Clothing

Material :: Common Cotton

Description :: A soft, white shirt with long, wide sleeves rests under his leather plate. It can be closed at the wrist if he feels the need, but is often left un-cuffed. He wears a medium sized belt around his waist. His legs are covered by a pair of soft cotton britches, tucked into a pair of leather boots.

Viol

Material :: Soft, aged oak

Description :: Aerendir’s viol is packed in a thick, oak case and strapped to his back the majority of the time. In the case the delicate instrument is normally safe, and with it the unstrung bow is also kept. The young boy takes it out when he feels safe enough to do so, taverns and inns mostly, to play it. Otherwise, the viol is in its case. The half-elf takes special precautions to oil the instrument daily and keep it loose so the Salvar made strings do not break.


Skills:

Spearmanship

Description :: The use of a pole-arm is not necessarily an uncommon trait. A normal skill of the elven people was with the use of the spear, which offered the race many victories in a number of skirmishes and disputes. His training went only as far, however, that he learned to hold the object without puncturing his own foot. He is below average.

The Viol

Description :: Aerendir, has an amazing interest in the unique instrument. The viol also goes by the name of “leg violin” and is a much more intricate instrument. The violin is what peasants and commoners play in the streets. It can be played to a quick tune and either accompanied by the song or dance. A viol, on the other hand, is a gallant instrument often associated with the slower songs and more profound verse. The young boy is far from able to give verse with his little toy, but is rather experienced in its use.

Song

Description :: The half-elf’s voice is on par with that of one who would be commonly part of a celebrated choir. His lungs are deep, his voice strong, and his ability to transcend song in the traditional sense is evident. Though this interest mostly governs his ability to sing, it also is a common interest with elven kind. It is not uncommon for his melodic humming [and outright singing] to at times attract the ear of a fine young elf. His wayward songs have been loved and appreciated by the most gentle of creatures, and praised by the most profound of figured.

Weaknesses :

As is stated in his personality, appearance, and personal philosophy section, Aerendir has flaws that are expressed through his very core. Idiosyncrasies play havoc with his ability to deal with all sorts of day to day issues, from the way he looks at others to the way they view him…

His body, despite being composed of lean muscle, is weaker than most people his size. A strong blow, even as simple as a punch from someone heavier than he is, can potentially cause quite a bit of damage.

Though not vampiricly challenged by any sense, his inability to cope with the sun has always caused him to linger during the daylight hours. In a sense, one could say that he is a creature of the night, a miasma of the shadows, and a dweller in darkness. Those that notice him more than a few times will pick up on his discomfort, and in common society it is hard to belie any sense of commonality with others when the times enjoyed are those that are shared by the underbelly of society. He often deals with the sideways glances and hushed tones that follow him, personal acceptance underscoring his state of public rejection and misunderstanding.

Aerendir’s mental aptitudes are as dire a boon as they are a blessing. Though he thinks clearly and resolutely on different matters, and at all times, he often strays far beyond the common man and creates a gap between himself and others. Friends are not hard to come by, but simply unwanted or – as he sees it – unnecessary. In part, his emotional state is a cripplingly dominant feature that courses through all aspects of his being. Instead of expressing emotion, he willingly dictates his forced habit of showing very little feelings to others. In doing so, he has come to be – for the most part – unapproachable to many and unwanted by others. Furthermore, he has an insatiable desire to understand, which has caused him to ignore the rote of common society and ignore their laws in order to fulfill the deep seeded desire for knowledge that make his day-to-day life that much more complicated than necessary.

Finally, the half-elf’s complete disdain for the practice and application of religion has put him at odds with all castes of people. From the lowest denizens of the world, who rely on religion as a crutch to continue having hope, to the most influential of people, who use it as a means of social control, Aerendir can easily make an enemy of any and all people. It is this biggest social flaw, a mind-set established on a firm foundation for the half-elf, that he finds the most struggle and dissidence from others arise.

History ::

History is a written understanding of one’s personal understanding. Those that can read and write create history, manipulating the circumstances and paths that were chosen. It is not always true, and in most forms of understanding it is written to make one side look stronger, or to make a battle less of a loss. It is written for those of outstanding steed, those that rose above the rote of commonality and pushed themselves further than any others. History is something for the brave, stalwart stewards of the past, a way to remember their undertakings and their militaristic and political accomplishments.

To say Aerendir is part of history is to say that all are part of history. In all reality nobody isn’t, everyone has done something, or come from somewhere. But not all people do or become something of note. Currently he is like all others, no different than the common rabble that roams the world. However, that is not a way he would so earnestly describe himself. The half elf is different than the common rabble, above them, and set apart. He is no grand adventurer, nor a noted war hero, or someone of such great magnitude as to be known for his abilities, but nonetheless Aerendir is a person of Pal Tahrenor like any other.

Though he did not intentionally set out to be aloof from the standings of society, it is his heritage and upbringing that set him apart…

A.Sadist.Beginning.
[0]

"Child, what are you doing?" With a swift kick the man sent the boy nearly flying across the small room. With the gruff, throaty laughter the man turned and started for the doorway. In the corner the boy sobbed, silently as to not raise the anger of the man again. Behind him the open book flipped pages at random, the slammed door sending the pages to motion. The poor child turned, tears budding at the corners of his face. His hands rubbed at the new mark, the heavy red score already forming. It wasn't the kick that hurt as much as the pain of loneliness, the sense of longing, and the lack of love.

Years had passed and the 'family' that the young Aerendir was cursed to be born of had continued to leave him forgotten. As a child, the boy had come to know the world as a harsh, hateful place, filled with the uncaring. His father was a gruff human. He was difficult to deal with, difficult to understand. His mother had died giving birth to him. She was an elf of unknown decent, blessed with grace. The love between the two was something that also was forgotten. The love between the two had been just as brutal and unforgiving, if one could consider it love at all.

His father had taken his mother into bed, without a wedding. The result was the half-elf, an unwanted and unexpected child. During the time of pregnancy his mother had attempted to plead for a marriage. But his father would have nothing of it.

When Aerendir finally came, and his mother died, his father cursed him. He spat in his face verbal obscenities. The boy was not wanted, not cared for, and no more than a burden. The half-elf grew up an obligation to a departed and forgotten lover.

With a tear streaked fist the boy slammed his hand against the creaking wooden floors. He swore, quietly of course, that things would be different one day. Another smash of his fist against the floor and the boy was swearing because of his throbbing hand. He shifted, slowly, moving again towards the books, reading and learning of a world his bastard of a father had removed him from.

.Time.Between.
[0]

Time passed the young half elf, leaving him to grow and learn. His abusive ‘family’ grew old, quickly. While his father slowly degraded to the withering old human, Aerendir grew stronger, older, and smarter. The abusive, and now alcoholic, father never let up… turning away from physical abuse to verbal, only furthering the young half-elf’s hatred.

However, time was the ally of the growing boy. His voice was strong, like his mothers, and his ability to twist and change a note was the only beauty he knew in a world of pain. The withered book of his mother had been studied time and time again.

.Torment.
[0]

By his late teens the abuse had come to a head. The sixty year old human had pushed Aerendir for the last time, and the half-elf struck back.

“Fuckin’ child!” The man lashed out again… kicking the half-elf square across his angular chin. As soon as his foot left the floor, however, the alcohol took control. Gravity pulled the man down to the floor, splashing a nearly empty mug of hard-ale across the grungy flooring.

Aerendir pushed himself away from the floor, keeping his head down. It was not from fear that he looked away, but to keep the rage that built in his eyes from being seen. The boy shifted uneasily. He had taken more beatings lately than he had ever. Was it because he was growing older, and stronger? Was it because the bastard of a father was growing weaker and older? The boy couldn’t tell, but he knew it was more than tiresome.

“Gods be damned, fuckin’ half-elf piece of …” The heavy man stood, a hand to his head as he turned on his ‘son’. “Look what you made me do. I dropped my ale, a full tankard too.”

The half-elf shifted again. He looked at the small spill, no bigger than the fat man’s head. It was far from full.

“Good thing your mother died, rather than then see what a sorry sack of shit you are.”

Aerendir twisted, seeing the man turn away from him. The anger in his eyes build to a point that he could no longer hold it within. The flame of passion was coursing through his veins, burning beneath his skin. He could hold it in no longer.

“You will grovel before me before this night descends. For your insolence, for your hatred, for that which you have forced me to be, you shall writhe in torment. Your soul shows me nothing but fear and hatred for that which I am, for that which I shall one day become. Cry and beg for your death to be swift. When you pass you will not be joining my mother. When you pass you will be cast to whatever pit of despair your false religion demands.” The boy’s elven tongue spat acid at his drunkard of a father, cursing him.

As he spoke his father had turned towards him, shock in his hazed eyes. The half-elf allowed him little time to retaliate, verbally or physically. He lunged quickly, gracefully, putting his weight behind a steady fist. It struck the man’s sternum, causing him to fall to his backside with a debilitating crack.

Aerendir smirked, a wicked twist of a rather handsome face. His poor excuse of a father looked at his bastard son in shock, only to receive a powerful strike to his throat. Strike after strike rained down on the fat man. Vigo gave him little time to move, again, and struck quickly. The palm of his hand smashed the man’s chin, throwing his head back with a light crack. Before he could recover, mid-stumble, the young man delivered a devastating blow with his right hand. Again the man’s head snapped, this time driving him to the ground.

“What the… fuck?” He asked between a bloody cough and a bursting blister. “What have you… become?”

“Too long you have tormented me, physically as well as emotionally. Your arrogance has put you atop a pedestal so high. Now you have fallen off, you have taken quite a fall indeed.” Aerendir said as he let his arms hang at his side from exhaustion, only two minutes having passed. He gripped a handful of the man’s greasy, long hair and pulled his head up as he squatted down. The man he once knew as a father figure, the emotionless bastard that had raised him for years, was little more than a broken human. His clouded gray eyes were lost with confusion and fear. “And now you die…”

“No,” the man said, just before the half-elf drove his head into the boards. Over and over again the thick skull of the human smashed against the floor. Over and over again the crack that resounded forced tears to stream from the half-elf’s eyes. By the time he finished the side of the man’s skull had caved in, blood and drool mingled into a puddle beneath his limp head.

It had been finished, finally.

Before the small village could figure out what happened between the two, before they could blame the young half-elf for the murder, he fled. He took the guan-do his father had used when he was still a fit warrior, before he had conceived Aerendir. It would forever server as a memory of his past. He threw on his clothes, and inhaled deeply to attempt to claim what sanity remained. From then on the young boy grew, quickly leaving the outlying village of Eyropa. It was less than a year until he found his way to the city of Marn, but with no money and no occupation he was forced to accept shanty residence in the historic district. His personal possessions remained with him at all times, the armor and weapon of his father, the viol of his mother. The vagabonds and scum of the city did not welcome him, but it was hard to force a weapon wielding half-elf to do anything against their will.

[Niabi]

I'm removing the maturity warning from your character as we don't mark characters or threads for the content within them and we allow such things as violence, sex, drug abuse and many other themes considered to be mature. As we don't allow members under the age of 16, we expect everyone here is old enough to handle such themes without a warning and any such person who tries to join and is too young to handle the level of content will then have a hard time finding such things.

I see you listed skills which I would assume are the same as what his strengths would be, but I would like to see weaknesses added. Think of not just physical flaws with the character but also personality traits that might not be desired, possible fears, really anything that can be used as a good plot device to further develop the character over time.

At one point I noticed you called the character a sorcerer in the history.

Before he could recover, mid-stumble, the young sorcerer delivered a devastating blow with his right hand. Again the man’s head snapped, this time driving him to the ground.

I saw no mention of magical powers within the app, if he does have magic I would like to see it listed.

[Aerendir]

Maturity allowed, I like this place already. Lol. Sorry about that, I was looking around for what exactly was allowed, and assumed I had written it tactfully enough to display the blunted nature of the character without being overtly crude. On to the edits...

I added a section for weaknesses, which was little more than a deeper and more obviously expressed portion of the appearance and personal philosophy section. I hope that is alright?

Also, I adapted this character from my site in order for it to work here, and in doing so accidentally missed that one sorcerer in the text. I edited it out so as to alleviate any confusion. In the future I plan on having him wield magic, covertly of course, and possibly join the Battlemages at some point... but figured it'd be easier to start with a relative blank slated character and learn about the site as I slowly build Aerendir.

[Niabi]

Approved.