Lyrim Necadin
Posted: Sat Aug 03, 2013 1:48 am
Player Name: Ozton
Name: Lyrim Necadin
Age: 19
Race: Human
Height: 6ft
Weight: 150lbs.
Physical Description:
Lyrim has pale skin that would rival that of a corpse. His eyes are a deep,dark blue. A blue deeper than that of a flooded quarry. His long, sanguine black hair, often obstructing his face, hangs a bit below his shoulders, or, on the occasion he intends to look presentable, he ties it back into a long ponytail with a strand of golden dyed nylon. His hair always seems to be slightly damp no matter the occasion. His facial features are all slightly pointed. This is perhaps evidence of an elven lineage somewhere throughout the generations, but Lyrim is unaware if this is true or not. He is slender standing roughly 6ft and weighing possibly 150 lbs. He keeps a well trimmed goatee more often than not. The mustache is kept thin and his beard never hangs more than an inch or two from his chin.
On an uneventful day Lyrim most often sports a thin pair silk leggings tucked into a well worn pair of fur boots. The boots most likely owing creation to a now deceased grizzly. A well worn short sleeve shirt of cotton is a common sight as well, but to the viewing eye most would only see the same violet robes. Lyrim wears it everywhere, and it is beginning to show in the poor thing as the bottom is beginning to fray where it has been dragged for miles. Holes have began to form in the seams. A large hood hangs from the back, but Lyrim is never seen using it even in the monsoon like rain.
Possessions: Lyrim keeps a satchel tossed over his shoulder with basic apothecary utensils as well as a steel dagger tucked in his right boot. All of these items given to him from Odain
Powers or Strengths: Manipulation over water (Intermediate at the moment). Adept Alchemist. Due to his months living in the wilderness he has developed a modest but handy set of survival skill (hunting, fishing, trapping, and things of that nature)
Weaknesses: He finds him self far weaker the farther away from a large body of water he travels. A heavy storm can contradict this slightly but never fully. Lyrim is extremely weary of people in general. He fears he will be prosecuted or worse for his abilities
History:
Lyrim remembers very little of his childhood. What he can recall has came to him as dreams in recent years, or the journals of his farther. A summary of both is as follows: His father was once upon a time a respected arcane scholar,Izbine Necadin. He found him self obsessed with the energy of the world and learning to manipulate it. More than any instance of the natural energies water drove his obsession the most. His wife, Lyrim's mother, passed away during Lyrim's birth. For this reason Izbine resented his son in his first years of life leaving him in the custody of the mother's sister while he continued his research.
A breakthrough was discovered. In a cave North of the charted worlds Izbine discovered a dark spirit built of mostly hydrogen who claimed to be a god of an era long forgotten. The elemental claimed to be the creator of the seas, and promised Izbine all of its knowledge if he would provide to it a possesable vessel so that it might leave the cave. A look of ill intent greeted the mother's sister when Izbine went to claim his now three year old son. The woman refused him and met her death beginning his fall in to darkness. A price was put on to his head and word of his ill deed spread through the providence. He made it back to the spirit. Offering Lyrim as the vessel Izbine awaited his reward. He was betrayed. Ten Years he researched in how to reverse his treachery, and he discovered a solution in Necromancy. Luring the spirit, walking in the flesh of Lyrim, back into the prison like cave, he pulled the spirit into his own body after cutting both of his wrists. Through his death he trapped the spirit in the cave once more. Lyrim, led by instinct or the gods, found his way away from the cave.
Fifteen years old and alone in a cold world Lyrim took his first steps of true freedom. Never, not even trapped in his own subconscious for those ten years, had he been so afraid. The first few nights he sulked and simply awaited his demise, but it did not come and the boy learned to live off of nature herself. A few weeks into the rest of his life a great rain fell out of the sky drenching him and dowsing his fire. He wished the rain would simply avoid his camp, and upon his request it did. His attunement to water itself was astonishing, or at least it was so to him. Of course the arcane users were often viewed as leapers, and Lyrim knowing this decided it best to keep his “abilities” to himself. He found that his connections were stronger the closer he was to greater amounts of water be it an ocean or simply a heavy storm viewed amplified effects.
An alchemist named Odain had found him in the woods a few years back and righteously took him on as his understudy. Lyrim had learned much of alchemy and found happiness in living and creating from the world. As had became a custom to his evenings Lyrim and the alchemist made there way to the tavern a bit past dusk for supper. Another common site Rodnick, the village drunkard, stumbled into the bar already well past intoxication screaming for his spouse. Often she was his outlet of physical anger, and her absence helped stifle his carnage none. Uncommon was the the storm beating down on the rooftops of the small village just off of the ocean. A storm so strong was no where in Lyrim's memories. This night Rodnick's red gaze fell on to Lyrim. Tossing a table and spouting vulgarity Rodnick began to beat Lyrim into the ground. Lyrim last remembers the swirls in the wood of the bar approaching his face as Rodnick repetitively slammed Lyrim's face into the floor. When he regained consciousness the room was painted in crimson as the corpses of everyone in the room, Odain, Rodnick, the keeper, patrons, and even children were split like melons, and their blood danced in a typhoon through the hall. This was a scale of power Lyrim had no knowledge of or experience in. Unless steps could be taken to control his abilities he swore to himself they would not be used. With no time to lose Lyrim made a swift leave of absence.
Lyrim, deciding an exodus was his only choice, makes his way towards the city of Shim. Away from the oceans would be safest for not only himself, but everyone around him he decided. Alone and scared again he ponders what trials stand before him.
Name: Lyrim Necadin
Age: 19
Race: Human
Height: 6ft
Weight: 150lbs.
Physical Description:
Lyrim has pale skin that would rival that of a corpse. His eyes are a deep,dark blue. A blue deeper than that of a flooded quarry. His long, sanguine black hair, often obstructing his face, hangs a bit below his shoulders, or, on the occasion he intends to look presentable, he ties it back into a long ponytail with a strand of golden dyed nylon. His hair always seems to be slightly damp no matter the occasion. His facial features are all slightly pointed. This is perhaps evidence of an elven lineage somewhere throughout the generations, but Lyrim is unaware if this is true or not. He is slender standing roughly 6ft and weighing possibly 150 lbs. He keeps a well trimmed goatee more often than not. The mustache is kept thin and his beard never hangs more than an inch or two from his chin.
On an uneventful day Lyrim most often sports a thin pair silk leggings tucked into a well worn pair of fur boots. The boots most likely owing creation to a now deceased grizzly. A well worn short sleeve shirt of cotton is a common sight as well, but to the viewing eye most would only see the same violet robes. Lyrim wears it everywhere, and it is beginning to show in the poor thing as the bottom is beginning to fray where it has been dragged for miles. Holes have began to form in the seams. A large hood hangs from the back, but Lyrim is never seen using it even in the monsoon like rain.
Possessions: Lyrim keeps a satchel tossed over his shoulder with basic apothecary utensils as well as a steel dagger tucked in his right boot. All of these items given to him from Odain
Powers or Strengths: Manipulation over water (Intermediate at the moment). Adept Alchemist. Due to his months living in the wilderness he has developed a modest but handy set of survival skill (hunting, fishing, trapping, and things of that nature)
Weaknesses: He finds him self far weaker the farther away from a large body of water he travels. A heavy storm can contradict this slightly but never fully. Lyrim is extremely weary of people in general. He fears he will be prosecuted or worse for his abilities
History:
Lyrim remembers very little of his childhood. What he can recall has came to him as dreams in recent years, or the journals of his farther. A summary of both is as follows: His father was once upon a time a respected arcane scholar,Izbine Necadin. He found him self obsessed with the energy of the world and learning to manipulate it. More than any instance of the natural energies water drove his obsession the most. His wife, Lyrim's mother, passed away during Lyrim's birth. For this reason Izbine resented his son in his first years of life leaving him in the custody of the mother's sister while he continued his research.
A breakthrough was discovered. In a cave North of the charted worlds Izbine discovered a dark spirit built of mostly hydrogen who claimed to be a god of an era long forgotten. The elemental claimed to be the creator of the seas, and promised Izbine all of its knowledge if he would provide to it a possesable vessel so that it might leave the cave. A look of ill intent greeted the mother's sister when Izbine went to claim his now three year old son. The woman refused him and met her death beginning his fall in to darkness. A price was put on to his head and word of his ill deed spread through the providence. He made it back to the spirit. Offering Lyrim as the vessel Izbine awaited his reward. He was betrayed. Ten Years he researched in how to reverse his treachery, and he discovered a solution in Necromancy. Luring the spirit, walking in the flesh of Lyrim, back into the prison like cave, he pulled the spirit into his own body after cutting both of his wrists. Through his death he trapped the spirit in the cave once more. Lyrim, led by instinct or the gods, found his way away from the cave.
Fifteen years old and alone in a cold world Lyrim took his first steps of true freedom. Never, not even trapped in his own subconscious for those ten years, had he been so afraid. The first few nights he sulked and simply awaited his demise, but it did not come and the boy learned to live off of nature herself. A few weeks into the rest of his life a great rain fell out of the sky drenching him and dowsing his fire. He wished the rain would simply avoid his camp, and upon his request it did. His attunement to water itself was astonishing, or at least it was so to him. Of course the arcane users were often viewed as leapers, and Lyrim knowing this decided it best to keep his “abilities” to himself. He found that his connections were stronger the closer he was to greater amounts of water be it an ocean or simply a heavy storm viewed amplified effects.
An alchemist named Odain had found him in the woods a few years back and righteously took him on as his understudy. Lyrim had learned much of alchemy and found happiness in living and creating from the world. As had became a custom to his evenings Lyrim and the alchemist made there way to the tavern a bit past dusk for supper. Another common site Rodnick, the village drunkard, stumbled into the bar already well past intoxication screaming for his spouse. Often she was his outlet of physical anger, and her absence helped stifle his carnage none. Uncommon was the the storm beating down on the rooftops of the small village just off of the ocean. A storm so strong was no where in Lyrim's memories. This night Rodnick's red gaze fell on to Lyrim. Tossing a table and spouting vulgarity Rodnick began to beat Lyrim into the ground. Lyrim last remembers the swirls in the wood of the bar approaching his face as Rodnick repetitively slammed Lyrim's face into the floor. When he regained consciousness the room was painted in crimson as the corpses of everyone in the room, Odain, Rodnick, the keeper, patrons, and even children were split like melons, and their blood danced in a typhoon through the hall. This was a scale of power Lyrim had no knowledge of or experience in. Unless steps could be taken to control his abilities he swore to himself they would not be used. With no time to lose Lyrim made a swift leave of absence.
Lyrim, deciding an exodus was his only choice, makes his way towards the city of Shim. Away from the oceans would be safest for not only himself, but everyone around him he decided. Alone and scared again he ponders what trials stand before him.