Adrian Bartosz
Posted: Wed Feb 03, 2010 5:17 am
Name: Adrian Bartosz
Age: 24
Race: Human
Height: 5 feet tall
Weight: 125 pounds
Physical Description: As a boy, Adrian was a small thing. That didn't change much as time went on. He has remained the smallest of his boyhood friends, and is the slightest of build as well. His arms and legs seem stretched. A stiff wind may just knock the lad over. He keeps simple things in his wardrobe, tunics and breeches of wool, and a few pairs of boots, made to last.
Possessions: A large satchel with samplings of herbs, a mortar and pestle, bandages, and ointments
A large ring given to him by his father. It has a picture of two crossed hammers engraved onto it.
A small house near Shim which serves as his shop.
A savings of 100 bishani
Powers or Strengths:
Medicine: Adrian's mother and father were skilled with healing. They could grind plants together and keep a man off deaths door. To their only son they imparted these skills, and he has been able to pick up the trade. Adrian's ointments arn't nearly as good as him mother's and father's, and he does waste a bit of the plants when he grinds them, but he's able to treat with some skill.
Listen to the Winds: When he was younger, Adri had the peculiar notion that the wind blew on him harder than the others. He would be cold far more often than any other, and feel as though he were in the middle of a storm. With age, and a few miraculous treatments, he began to worry. That strange wind would pick up and rush through him. It took time, will, and a little luck, but he's been able to channel these strange winds, and work small wonders, from time to time.
From what Adrian can tell, there are several different winds, which sometimes blow together, and others apart. He has been able to hear two distinct winds to this point, one he thinks of as a 'Life' wind, the other as a 'Shadow' wind. The 'Life” wind seems strongest when Spring has come, and the 'Shadow' wind seems to blow harder when night has fallen.
Adrian has the magical ability to heal wounds. A cut that would take days to close is healed by nightfall, and leave no scar. People with a sickness are on the mend within a few days, rather than a few weeks. However, Adrian has not been able to manifest this ability without the assistance of his herbs and ointments.
Adrian can also 'follow' the winds, the blowing becoming harder while he gets closer. Each wind seems to gather at some areas more readily than others, the 'Life' wind fleeing from graveyards and where the sick lay. The 'Shadow' wind gathers at the places farthest from the sun.
Weaknesses: Hearing the Winds Speak: Whenever Adrian has preformed a miraculous treatment, for a moment or so afterward he begins to hear a whisper from the winds as the pass by. This effect seems to have last longer the more he touches the winds, and is lingering longer and longer.
Prone to Sickness: With his small size, Adrian has a problem with keeping himself well. He seems to be the first to grow ill, and the last to get better, with only a small break before he becomes ill again.
History:
Adrian Bartosz was born to Fara and Derid Bartosz, a pair who practiced medicine in the village of Shim. He was small, even as a lad, and often under his parents care. All to often, as an infant and a child, he would fall ill suddenly, and the illness would last for days or weeks longer than it should. All too often Fara and Derid believed that they would survive the death of their son before he became well again.
As a boy, he was encouraged to go and play with the others, with the hope that the exersize would help keep him well. And while he was running with the others, play-fighting and the like, his health did improve. A breath of fresh air for his parents.
As he got older, and began to understand what it was his parents did, he begged them to let him help them. They were skeptical, at first, wondering if all his time sick had stunted him intellect, but they allowed him to assist when they made bandages, or gathered herbs. Time, and a lot of thorns, proved that he could at least help them with the gathering, and he was allowed to help more often.
While young he had a habit of mixing up the names of plants, and would fetch one when he had been asked to find another. This seemed a small problem, one he would outgrow with time, and practice. However, in his 12th year, his father became deadly sick, and Fara could not leave his side. “Fetch me some Adalay root,” she told him. He ran out the door, a terrible storm on the horizon. Winds gusted, and tossed to boy about in his quest to find the plant that would save his father.
It took several hours, the boy making sure to find the right one this time. When he got back to his family's small home, He found his mother pacing, furious.
“Where have you been?” she screamed. The boy held up the tiny, mud covered root. It was snatched away while he mumbled about it being hard to find. His mother got to work, mixing this and that, grinding everything she got her hands on. Adrian Sat in the corner, hoping to stay out of the way.
The next morning, as the skies opened up, and the rain began to fall, his father opened his eyes for the first time in days. It seemed that everything had gone well, and that he'd be out of bed in a day or so. Fate, however, had other plans.
While his body had survived the sickness, the medicine had not come in time, and left his mind empty. The horrible coughing had nearly stripped him of his voice, but he didn't seem to know what was going on around him. Another sickness, the boy thought. Just something they hadn't known to take care of. His father would be fine. After all, he was the one who made the medicine.
His father never did get over the sickness, though. He had lost something, and nothing his mother knew could bring him back. She screamed, and howled, and cursed the boy, the town, the world. Her rage subsided after a time, and Fara and Adrian Bartosz helped the villagers when they became ill.
For years, Adrian helped his mother, placing bandages here, mixing things there. It was around this time when he began to feel odd winds blowing. He be sitting in the house, reading on his bed when an odd gust would creep in. None of the plants or papers moved, and no one else seemed to feel it. He thought for the longest time that his illness had started to creep back up, a brain fever coming over him.
Some years after his father had gotten sick, Adrian Celebrated his 21st birthday. His father was more responsive these days. He seemed to know what was going on around him, seemed to understand it was a celebration. If he could find something to finally bring him back to his old self, it would be all he could dream. His parents now lived in a small cottage not too far from the village, and he had taken over fully as the chemist.
A man came in to the shop, and was complaining of head pains. Adrian poked and prodded the man, trying to find what was wrong with him. The chemist was sure it was a case of over drinking, and was about to brew up a tonic for a hangover when his patient dropped to the floor in a cold sweat.
The rest of the day was spent looking over notes, and doing everything in his power to make the man well again. It was well past dusk when he was sure what to do. Everything pointed to a Bloodburn Fever, his insides growing to hot. Adrian only needed a moment to fix up a tonic for it. After pouring it down the man's throat, he waited. It was only supposed to take a minute or so.
It didn't work. He brewed it again, and it failed again. He looked over everything, wondering what he got wrong. After a moment, he started to feel that odd wind again. But he couldn't be bothered with a bit of wind when he needed to save a man. He brewed up one of his father's cure-alls. It never failed.
This time, the foul tasting brew was not the only thing poured into the patient. Adrian felt that odd gust go into his arm, and down through the cure-all into his sick patient. After a few seconds, the man's moaning slowed, and he stopped sweating.
After a moment of wonder, thanking his father, he heard something. A wisp of conversation. He turned his head, and found no one but himself and his patient. He shrugged it off.
“Just nerves,” He said, before putting a blanket over the now sleeping patient.
Age: 24
Race: Human
Height: 5 feet tall
Weight: 125 pounds
Physical Description: As a boy, Adrian was a small thing. That didn't change much as time went on. He has remained the smallest of his boyhood friends, and is the slightest of build as well. His arms and legs seem stretched. A stiff wind may just knock the lad over. He keeps simple things in his wardrobe, tunics and breeches of wool, and a few pairs of boots, made to last.
Possessions: A large satchel with samplings of herbs, a mortar and pestle, bandages, and ointments
A large ring given to him by his father. It has a picture of two crossed hammers engraved onto it.
A small house near Shim which serves as his shop.
A savings of 100 bishani
Powers or Strengths:
Medicine: Adrian's mother and father were skilled with healing. They could grind plants together and keep a man off deaths door. To their only son they imparted these skills, and he has been able to pick up the trade. Adrian's ointments arn't nearly as good as him mother's and father's, and he does waste a bit of the plants when he grinds them, but he's able to treat with some skill.
Listen to the Winds: When he was younger, Adri had the peculiar notion that the wind blew on him harder than the others. He would be cold far more often than any other, and feel as though he were in the middle of a storm. With age, and a few miraculous treatments, he began to worry. That strange wind would pick up and rush through him. It took time, will, and a little luck, but he's been able to channel these strange winds, and work small wonders, from time to time.
From what Adrian can tell, there are several different winds, which sometimes blow together, and others apart. He has been able to hear two distinct winds to this point, one he thinks of as a 'Life' wind, the other as a 'Shadow' wind. The 'Life” wind seems strongest when Spring has come, and the 'Shadow' wind seems to blow harder when night has fallen.
Adrian has the magical ability to heal wounds. A cut that would take days to close is healed by nightfall, and leave no scar. People with a sickness are on the mend within a few days, rather than a few weeks. However, Adrian has not been able to manifest this ability without the assistance of his herbs and ointments.
Adrian can also 'follow' the winds, the blowing becoming harder while he gets closer. Each wind seems to gather at some areas more readily than others, the 'Life' wind fleeing from graveyards and where the sick lay. The 'Shadow' wind gathers at the places farthest from the sun.
Weaknesses: Hearing the Winds Speak: Whenever Adrian has preformed a miraculous treatment, for a moment or so afterward he begins to hear a whisper from the winds as the pass by. This effect seems to have last longer the more he touches the winds, and is lingering longer and longer.
Prone to Sickness: With his small size, Adrian has a problem with keeping himself well. He seems to be the first to grow ill, and the last to get better, with only a small break before he becomes ill again.
History:
Adrian Bartosz was born to Fara and Derid Bartosz, a pair who practiced medicine in the village of Shim. He was small, even as a lad, and often under his parents care. All to often, as an infant and a child, he would fall ill suddenly, and the illness would last for days or weeks longer than it should. All too often Fara and Derid believed that they would survive the death of their son before he became well again.
As a boy, he was encouraged to go and play with the others, with the hope that the exersize would help keep him well. And while he was running with the others, play-fighting and the like, his health did improve. A breath of fresh air for his parents.
As he got older, and began to understand what it was his parents did, he begged them to let him help them. They were skeptical, at first, wondering if all his time sick had stunted him intellect, but they allowed him to assist when they made bandages, or gathered herbs. Time, and a lot of thorns, proved that he could at least help them with the gathering, and he was allowed to help more often.
While young he had a habit of mixing up the names of plants, and would fetch one when he had been asked to find another. This seemed a small problem, one he would outgrow with time, and practice. However, in his 12th year, his father became deadly sick, and Fara could not leave his side. “Fetch me some Adalay root,” she told him. He ran out the door, a terrible storm on the horizon. Winds gusted, and tossed to boy about in his quest to find the plant that would save his father.
It took several hours, the boy making sure to find the right one this time. When he got back to his family's small home, He found his mother pacing, furious.
“Where have you been?” she screamed. The boy held up the tiny, mud covered root. It was snatched away while he mumbled about it being hard to find. His mother got to work, mixing this and that, grinding everything she got her hands on. Adrian Sat in the corner, hoping to stay out of the way.
The next morning, as the skies opened up, and the rain began to fall, his father opened his eyes for the first time in days. It seemed that everything had gone well, and that he'd be out of bed in a day or so. Fate, however, had other plans.
While his body had survived the sickness, the medicine had not come in time, and left his mind empty. The horrible coughing had nearly stripped him of his voice, but he didn't seem to know what was going on around him. Another sickness, the boy thought. Just something they hadn't known to take care of. His father would be fine. After all, he was the one who made the medicine.
His father never did get over the sickness, though. He had lost something, and nothing his mother knew could bring him back. She screamed, and howled, and cursed the boy, the town, the world. Her rage subsided after a time, and Fara and Adrian Bartosz helped the villagers when they became ill.
For years, Adrian helped his mother, placing bandages here, mixing things there. It was around this time when he began to feel odd winds blowing. He be sitting in the house, reading on his bed when an odd gust would creep in. None of the plants or papers moved, and no one else seemed to feel it. He thought for the longest time that his illness had started to creep back up, a brain fever coming over him.
Some years after his father had gotten sick, Adrian Celebrated his 21st birthday. His father was more responsive these days. He seemed to know what was going on around him, seemed to understand it was a celebration. If he could find something to finally bring him back to his old self, it would be all he could dream. His parents now lived in a small cottage not too far from the village, and he had taken over fully as the chemist.
A man came in to the shop, and was complaining of head pains. Adrian poked and prodded the man, trying to find what was wrong with him. The chemist was sure it was a case of over drinking, and was about to brew up a tonic for a hangover when his patient dropped to the floor in a cold sweat.
The rest of the day was spent looking over notes, and doing everything in his power to make the man well again. It was well past dusk when he was sure what to do. Everything pointed to a Bloodburn Fever, his insides growing to hot. Adrian only needed a moment to fix up a tonic for it. After pouring it down the man's throat, he waited. It was only supposed to take a minute or so.
It didn't work. He brewed it again, and it failed again. He looked over everything, wondering what he got wrong. After a moment, he started to feel that odd wind again. But he couldn't be bothered with a bit of wind when he needed to save a man. He brewed up one of his father's cure-alls. It never failed.
This time, the foul tasting brew was not the only thing poured into the patient. Adrian felt that odd gust go into his arm, and down through the cure-all into his sick patient. After a few seconds, the man's moaning slowed, and he stopped sweating.
After a moment of wonder, thanking his father, he heard something. A wisp of conversation. He turned his head, and found no one but himself and his patient. He shrugged it off.
“Just nerves,” He said, before putting a blanket over the now sleeping patient.