Dnarion
Posted: Tue Aug 05, 2014 5:24 am
Name: Dnarion Ambrosious
Age: 28
Race: Elf
Physical Description:
Dnarion stands just over six foot three inches, and is not likely to grow any further in height. He has a somewhat slender build to him, but with enough muscle tone to show he exercises regularly. His skin tone is quite fair, and often burns badly when in the summer heat for more than an hour without protection. Dnarion’s hair comes down in waves of dark crimson red to about shoulder length. The soft silky hair is usually tied back by an equally dark green sash when he is working, or kept under a helm when he is training or in combat. His eyes are a deep evergreen that are both piercing and dark with a spark of delight. Dnarion’s attire is usually in the darker hues ranging from deep evergreens to sable as dark as a moonless night. Worn always on his right ring finger is a silvery ring with a tiny emerald. The emerald is set between the heads of two dragons facing each other.
Possessions:
Dnarion carries on his left hip in an emerald dyed scabbard a master crafted longsword. The blade carries a small emerald in the pommel, and has his name etched in Elven runes along either side of the crosshilt. The sword's blade is slightly more narrow than others of this type, but no less durable. It was crafted specifically for Dnarion, and is well balanced for his usage. The longsword was a gift from his foster father, Valmacil, after completing his training.
A thin dark evergreen leather covers his torso, shoulders, and down to just an inch above the elbows for protection. This thin armor is made for him, and is thus more comfortable to wear than something borrowed or bought from an armory. Black leather covers his legs all the way down to his ankles, and is made of the same material as the top part of his armor. Worn black leather boots adorn his feet, and come up to half way towards his knees.
He has a worn evergreen pack containing his journal, two ink wells, two quill pens, a spare bowstring, whetstone, flint and tender, an empty small flask enough to hold twenty ounces of fluid, a scroll case with a map of the immediate area, food enough for three days travel, a small kit for fletching new arrows, and a minor first aid kit.
His money pouch only contains forty bishani. This is money he has saved up from various performances on the road to Marn.
He owns a longbow that he personally crafted four years ago, and has kept it in excellent condition. Usually, the bow is kept in a black leather covered redwood tube that doubles as a staff. When he is travelling, the bow is kept strung and in his left hand ready for usage. A quiver of twenty-five dark green feathered arrows rests in the black quiver on his back with the feathers of the arrows pointing towards the right.
A dark sable weather stained cloak is clasped by a simple silver dragon pendant.
At the moment, Dnarion has no home of his own, but often camps in the wilderness.
Personality: Dnarion is normally a very quiet person, and does not socialize a whole lot. A lot of this comes from being alone so much during the hot weather seasons, and part of it comes from the recent wound to his soul after the encounter with a very wicked Faerie woman. He is quite skeptical about the purposes of others around him when he does meet them. Being taught right from wrong by his foster parents has left him with a very black and white picture of morality. It is something he has trouble understanding in the actions of others, because to him...right is right and wrong is wrong...thus good is good, and bad is evil. Patience is something Dnarion has an abundance of for the most part, but this vanishes at the sight of cruelty and stupidity. In those moments, Dnarion has to fight down his immediate urge to punish those responsible. This does not extend to making mistakes, but actual foolish behavior...thoughtless and stupid. While Dnarion is a romantic at heart; his wounded spirit prevents him from feeling such at the moment. He prefers to keep his troubles to himself, and this stems from him having no one to really interact with in several years. He does, however, love to put on performances for the stories and tales he gives, and his shyness does not reach him at such times. As a warrior trained for several years; Dnarion's focus in battle is intense. He actually does not like to fight, and will do what he can to avoid a conflict, but once he enters it...it is to the end.
Powers or Strengths:
*Archery: Dnarion has had thirteen years of training in archery, and is considered talented with the longbow. This is especially true when he uses his own personal longbow and arrows he crafted. The past three years have allowed Dnarion to wield the longbow against actual foes.
*Longsword: Dnarion has had thirteen years of formal training with this type of blade. His training included formation fighting both with a shield and without, small units, and solo. Formation fighting is not his greatest talent when wielding such a weapon, but more so when he has the freedom of movement that compliments his agility and grace. For the past three years, Dnarion has also had practical experience in wielding the longsword against bandits, other mercenaries, and simple self-defense.
*Bardic Tales: One of the gifts he was born with is how he can bring tales and stories to life, and inspire the hearts and minds of his audiences. The effects vary from person to person, but the average has been an hour after the performance, and as long as a day in some cases. Dnarion's talent in this area is his ability to match the various voices to the characters in his tales...thus making it both more entertaining and realistic. Furthermore, his gift touches the imagination of his audience, and is different for each person...though usually the theme of a story is the same in general. At times, the audience can even clearly envision the tale in their minds while listening. This has caused people to listen with greater attention. Dnarion has used this the past three years to even sooth quarrels, loneliness, depression, and other ailments of the heart and mind. He has never used it to ill effect, and has no desire to...even if he knew how. He has, however, caused his audiences to feel his own loneliness or heartache, and left them moved to tears, sympathy, or other forms of sorrow. While this is indeed magic; Dnarion is actually unaware of this fact. His training in storytelling did not include any magic, and is merely a talent he was born with.
Weaknesses and Flaws:
*Heat Intolerance: Any weather from ninety degrees or higher makes Dnarion ill. At best, he can last up to two hours in such heat even with getting water, but the longer he is in such conditions...the more likely he is to be very ill. The illness begins with severe migraines, and eventually builds to weakness, nausea, and can incapacitate him. If not sheltered from such heat, or otherwise treated; Dnarion can actually die faster than any other from such heat. Were he to be left in such unholy hot weather for more that four hours...water or not...Dnarion would very likely perish. The hotter the weather; the more likely this becomes. This affect applies to him being near forges and hot kitchens such as bakeries and the like.
*Wounded Spirit: Dnarion had a savage encounter with a very powerful dark faerie woman that has left his spirit wounded. This has left Dnarion unable to feel romantic emotions easily, and would take a very special woman to spark such again within him. Furthermore, this wound has made Dnarion a lot more shy, quiet, and with severe bouts of depression. It has also caused Dnarion to be more cautious in his dealings with others, and made him more skeptical about the goodness in others. Enchantments, both good and bad, can reach him easier if he is not vigilant. Even if he is, it takes a great deal of his inner strength to combat such effects, and can leave him drained to the point of being incapacitated. Dnarion is not even fully aware of the wound he has taken, and only knows something has changed since that evil encounter.
*Deep Water Fear: Ever since Dnarion was found by his foster family he has had a severe fear of deep water. This does not include simply bathing in water, but any condition in which every part of his body is underwater for more than a twenty seconds. At that point, Dnarion begins to have savage seizures, and if not aided...can perish from sheer fright alone. Storms do not have this affect on him. As a result, swimming underwater is absolutely impossible for Dnarion.
History: Dnarion was born approximately twenty-eight years ago to unknown Elven parents. It is not known if they are alive, or perished, but Anuriel and Valmacil found him as a babe when he was about three months old laying by a small pond all alone, and wrapped in an emerald blanket. The two Elves took him in as their own, and raised him in the small town of Shim. From that moment, to the age of fifteen; Dnarion had a fairly good life. However, two things popped up during the raising of him that worried both of his foster parents. The first was how badly the heat affected their son. Working outside in the late spring and any time during the summer seemed to be out of the question. Even a single hour out in the hot weather was enough to seriously make Dnarion ill. From then on, both foster parents made sure their son was always inside during such weather. This, unfortunately, did not give him a lot of play time with other kids his age during such hot seasons. The second thing they noticed was Dnarion had a severe fear of deep water. While he could wade out in the water for baths and such; he could not endure having his entire body underwater for more than a few seconds. To do so beyond that left him with terrible seizures, and it was clear that if pressed...it could actually kill him. Neither weakness was something the two foster parents could understand. In the case of the water; they chalked it up to him possibly nearly drowning when he was a baby before they found him. To the case of hot weather; there simply was no real explanation. Either way, Anuriel and Valmacil worked tirelessly to keep their son safe from such harm.
Even at a young age, Dnarion seemed to have a very powerful imagination. One day, when he was only twelve years old, Dnarion was reading a story his mother had given him. As part of his lessons with her; he was to read it aloud. This time, however, when he did so...he instinctively began altering his voice for the various characters in the story. Anuriel was astonished at this strange gift, and afterwards realized her son had read the story in such a way as to give it power. It was as if his gift made the story more real. From then on, Anuriel began teaching her son more about stories and tales, and with each new reading...he became better at making the stories feel more alive. Yet, as strange as the talent was...it was still fairly weak at this young age.
Since going outside during the hot weather seasons was a poor idea...at least for anything around an hour; Dnarion found such times in the house with his father learning how to play chess, or given strategical scenarios to puzzle over. At the same time, his mother taught him about manners...how to speak correctly, politely, how to carry yourself with confidence, but not arrogance, how to address different types of people, and so forth. However, Dnarion was a bit shy, and putting such lessons to use during the fall and winter times was difficult at best. During the winter and fall, however, Dnarion enjoyed his time outside with rain, cooler weather, and even the times when they had snow. Strangely enough, on days when the weather was truly icy and cold, such times did not adversely affect Dnarion. While most would have to bundle up in coats; Dnarion could get away with a light jacket. His shyness, alas, did not allow him to make friends with others in the small town, but at the age of fourteen...Dnarion gave his very first performance.
The performance was a tale about an Elven knight and an evil Troll. From the moment Dnarion began; his gift came to his aid, and the story was a hit instantly. He was even asked to give a second performance, and Dnarion gladly did so...having gained confidence from the first one. The second time round was even better, and every single member of the audience walked away stunned with emotions from the tale. Bravery coursed through the majority of those who listened for nearly ten minutes. Others were inspired to go home and tackle tasks they had not been able to accomplish.
After such a performance, Anuriel and Valmacil knew it would soon be time to leave Shim. Magic was not permitted in the realm, and there was no doubt that Dnarion's gift for tales was tied to magic somehow. Yet, they did not wish to stifle their son either, and so for a year...the two foster parents prepared for the journey they knew they must make. At the age of fifteen; Dnarion found himself on the road with his foster parents. The three of them journeyed for three days east of Shim to a small secluded forest. In the center of this forest was a hidden training camp. The camp was set up to train young people to be warriors, but to also teach them the lore of storytelling and tales. The trainers had no magic about them, and they were a mixture of Elves, Half-elves, and Humans. Instead, they were simply gifted at the art of learning various swords and the longbow. In the case of Dnarion, he chose to learn the longsword. Both Anuriel and Valmacil were among his trainers once he was enrolled, and soon the real lessons began.
For ten years Dnarion trained at this secluded camp. In this time, Dnarion learned more of tales and stories, and was able to speak and write fluently in both Elven and Common. He knew various types of stories ranging from pure fantasy, to historical re-enactments, to romance, horror, mystery and drama. Of these, the first two were his favorites....though he also loved to tell a romantic tale once in a while. With each passing year, his bardic talent became stronger and with greater effect. The trainers watched with great interest as Dnarion's talent became more powerful, but not once did the young Elf show any signs of misusing his gift. Effects from his bardic gift now seemed to last on average an hour after the performance, and with some individuals...a day. Dnarion's power now could touch the hearts and imaginations of his audience in positive ways. Those who listened often walked away feeling refreshed, or extra brave, or inspired in some way to do things they couldn't figure out before. Other times, a calm would settle over them where anger or frustration once existed.
Training with the longbow and longsword was intense. His mother was his teacher with the bow, and his father with the sword. Both were strict instructors, and Dnarion learned with a feverish desire. While the sword was something he had a talent for; his true skill came with the bow. He was fast and accurate, and both of these attributes only increased with the ten years of training. He was no expert, but he could hit a moving target at 150 feet about seventy percent of the time with pinpoint accuracy. Eventually, Dnarion learned to craft his own longbow, and create his own arrows. By the time Dnarion was twenty-four; he had made his own longbow and set of arrows, and had saved up enough money to purchase his own crafting tools for both.
The longsword, while he was not as good with; was still something he showed a talent for wielding. His father taught him mainly the basics, and how to wield the blade in both single combat, and against multiple foes. The other instructors taught him more about formation fighting and working in small units with such a weapon. Dnarion did not enjoy formation fighting much as it restricted his movements more, but in solo or small units...Dnarion excelled. By the time he was twenty; Dnarion could already hold his own in most standard sword fights, and take on novices without much trouble. Agility more than strength was Dnarion's ally, and while his hits were less powerful...they were more frequent and with greater agility. He preferred to wield his blade without a shield, as the shield only seemed to slow him down. While he had training to wear chainmail; Dnarion preferred studded leather or lighter armor types. Such lighter armor did not hinder his agile defenses. By the time graduation came around at the age of twenty-five; Dnarion was given a brand new sword forged just for him by his father. The blade was adorned with a small emerald in the pommel, and his name engraved on either side of the crosshilt. It was a master crafted weapon, and while more narrow than other such blades...no less durable.
Over the next year, Dnarion began to help the trainers keep bandits and foul beasts away. In this way, his practical experience with both weapons began to come into play. During the hot weather seasons; Dnarion would return to tell some new tale to the trainers. During his entire ten years there; he had never met a single other trainee. Yet, he never questioned the lack of other students, but simply had stayed focused on his training. Tragedy, however, struck Dnarion at the age of twenty-six. While travelling from the small academy to Shim; the family was ambushed by savage bandits....none of which looked Human. Though the three fought side by side; his foster father and mother were slain. Their deaths only served to remind Dnarion of the wickedness in the world around him, and further added to his shyness and dire outlook on life. He spent the next year hunting various bandits, creatures, and other foes down out of revenge. The entire time he was mostly quiet...a seething silent rage as he hunted. Then, a new strike hit him in the form of a deadly encounter with a very powerful female Faerie.
The battle between them was brutal! From the very first moment; the battle was all in her favor against Dnarion, but Dnarion's will was not so easily broken. The dark enchantments she attempted to weave around him took a long time before actually beginning to break his spirit. Dnarion fought back with every ounce of his will against her seductive powers, it took all she had to keep him from slipping free to take off her head. It was a fierce battle of sheer willpower, but Dnarion was beginning to lose. Her dark enchantments were beginning to overpower him. However, the woman made a grave error in calculating her power over him, and came within reach of his blade. Something in Dnarion snapped; and up swept his blade to behead her. Though Dnarion had been victorious; the battle left his spirit wounded. He eventually found a small cave to hold up for bit as the battle had drained him severely. Three days later, he woke up feeling different, but unable to truly explain how. He had no idea that his spirit had been sorely wounded to the point of opening him up to enchantments...good or bad. His once strong will was now reduced to a shadow of what he once had. It was nearly a full week before Dnarion recovered enough of his energy to go hunting again, and he began to feel more like his old self. There were, however, some differences he began to notice. The first was he was more skeptical than ever of the goodness of others, and this made him more cautious around strangers. Where before he was shy...now he was more quiet than ever. The second thing he noticed was a lack of ability to feel romantic emotions. This he discovered while attempting to write one of his stories, and when it came to a romantic area...the content had no effect on him. To confirm this; Dnarion read through some of his other stories and tales of epic romance, and not a single one gave him the desire for love or lust of any kind. Sorrow, he could still feel when he would read of the more tragic romantic tales, but those with happiness to them no longer reached Dnarion's heart.
For a year, Dnarion continued to wander the wild. He saw little of anyone during this year. His solitude from others came from the wound to his spirit, and a strange desire to seek out something. Whatever it was, he never found it, and eventually had no choice but to turn his path towards Marn. Strangely enough, the damage to his spirit did not affect his ability to give performances...less it was that some were more melancholy and had more emotion to them. Romantic tales he put aside for the moment until he could figure out what had happened to him.
Age: 28
Race: Elf
Physical Description:
Dnarion stands just over six foot three inches, and is not likely to grow any further in height. He has a somewhat slender build to him, but with enough muscle tone to show he exercises regularly. His skin tone is quite fair, and often burns badly when in the summer heat for more than an hour without protection. Dnarion’s hair comes down in waves of dark crimson red to about shoulder length. The soft silky hair is usually tied back by an equally dark green sash when he is working, or kept under a helm when he is training or in combat. His eyes are a deep evergreen that are both piercing and dark with a spark of delight. Dnarion’s attire is usually in the darker hues ranging from deep evergreens to sable as dark as a moonless night. Worn always on his right ring finger is a silvery ring with a tiny emerald. The emerald is set between the heads of two dragons facing each other.
Possessions:
Dnarion carries on his left hip in an emerald dyed scabbard a master crafted longsword. The blade carries a small emerald in the pommel, and has his name etched in Elven runes along either side of the crosshilt. The sword's blade is slightly more narrow than others of this type, but no less durable. It was crafted specifically for Dnarion, and is well balanced for his usage. The longsword was a gift from his foster father, Valmacil, after completing his training.
A thin dark evergreen leather covers his torso, shoulders, and down to just an inch above the elbows for protection. This thin armor is made for him, and is thus more comfortable to wear than something borrowed or bought from an armory. Black leather covers his legs all the way down to his ankles, and is made of the same material as the top part of his armor. Worn black leather boots adorn his feet, and come up to half way towards his knees.
He has a worn evergreen pack containing his journal, two ink wells, two quill pens, a spare bowstring, whetstone, flint and tender, an empty small flask enough to hold twenty ounces of fluid, a scroll case with a map of the immediate area, food enough for three days travel, a small kit for fletching new arrows, and a minor first aid kit.
His money pouch only contains forty bishani. This is money he has saved up from various performances on the road to Marn.
He owns a longbow that he personally crafted four years ago, and has kept it in excellent condition. Usually, the bow is kept in a black leather covered redwood tube that doubles as a staff. When he is travelling, the bow is kept strung and in his left hand ready for usage. A quiver of twenty-five dark green feathered arrows rests in the black quiver on his back with the feathers of the arrows pointing towards the right.
A dark sable weather stained cloak is clasped by a simple silver dragon pendant.
At the moment, Dnarion has no home of his own, but often camps in the wilderness.
Personality: Dnarion is normally a very quiet person, and does not socialize a whole lot. A lot of this comes from being alone so much during the hot weather seasons, and part of it comes from the recent wound to his soul after the encounter with a very wicked Faerie woman. He is quite skeptical about the purposes of others around him when he does meet them. Being taught right from wrong by his foster parents has left him with a very black and white picture of morality. It is something he has trouble understanding in the actions of others, because to him...right is right and wrong is wrong...thus good is good, and bad is evil. Patience is something Dnarion has an abundance of for the most part, but this vanishes at the sight of cruelty and stupidity. In those moments, Dnarion has to fight down his immediate urge to punish those responsible. This does not extend to making mistakes, but actual foolish behavior...thoughtless and stupid. While Dnarion is a romantic at heart; his wounded spirit prevents him from feeling such at the moment. He prefers to keep his troubles to himself, and this stems from him having no one to really interact with in several years. He does, however, love to put on performances for the stories and tales he gives, and his shyness does not reach him at such times. As a warrior trained for several years; Dnarion's focus in battle is intense. He actually does not like to fight, and will do what he can to avoid a conflict, but once he enters it...it is to the end.
Powers or Strengths:
*Archery: Dnarion has had thirteen years of training in archery, and is considered talented with the longbow. This is especially true when he uses his own personal longbow and arrows he crafted. The past three years have allowed Dnarion to wield the longbow against actual foes.
*Longsword: Dnarion has had thirteen years of formal training with this type of blade. His training included formation fighting both with a shield and without, small units, and solo. Formation fighting is not his greatest talent when wielding such a weapon, but more so when he has the freedom of movement that compliments his agility and grace. For the past three years, Dnarion has also had practical experience in wielding the longsword against bandits, other mercenaries, and simple self-defense.
*Bardic Tales: One of the gifts he was born with is how he can bring tales and stories to life, and inspire the hearts and minds of his audiences. The effects vary from person to person, but the average has been an hour after the performance, and as long as a day in some cases. Dnarion's talent in this area is his ability to match the various voices to the characters in his tales...thus making it both more entertaining and realistic. Furthermore, his gift touches the imagination of his audience, and is different for each person...though usually the theme of a story is the same in general. At times, the audience can even clearly envision the tale in their minds while listening. This has caused people to listen with greater attention. Dnarion has used this the past three years to even sooth quarrels, loneliness, depression, and other ailments of the heart and mind. He has never used it to ill effect, and has no desire to...even if he knew how. He has, however, caused his audiences to feel his own loneliness or heartache, and left them moved to tears, sympathy, or other forms of sorrow. While this is indeed magic; Dnarion is actually unaware of this fact. His training in storytelling did not include any magic, and is merely a talent he was born with.
Weaknesses and Flaws:
*Heat Intolerance: Any weather from ninety degrees or higher makes Dnarion ill. At best, he can last up to two hours in such heat even with getting water, but the longer he is in such conditions...the more likely he is to be very ill. The illness begins with severe migraines, and eventually builds to weakness, nausea, and can incapacitate him. If not sheltered from such heat, or otherwise treated; Dnarion can actually die faster than any other from such heat. Were he to be left in such unholy hot weather for more that four hours...water or not...Dnarion would very likely perish. The hotter the weather; the more likely this becomes. This affect applies to him being near forges and hot kitchens such as bakeries and the like.
*Wounded Spirit: Dnarion had a savage encounter with a very powerful dark faerie woman that has left his spirit wounded. This has left Dnarion unable to feel romantic emotions easily, and would take a very special woman to spark such again within him. Furthermore, this wound has made Dnarion a lot more shy, quiet, and with severe bouts of depression. It has also caused Dnarion to be more cautious in his dealings with others, and made him more skeptical about the goodness in others. Enchantments, both good and bad, can reach him easier if he is not vigilant. Even if he is, it takes a great deal of his inner strength to combat such effects, and can leave him drained to the point of being incapacitated. Dnarion is not even fully aware of the wound he has taken, and only knows something has changed since that evil encounter.
*Deep Water Fear: Ever since Dnarion was found by his foster family he has had a severe fear of deep water. This does not include simply bathing in water, but any condition in which every part of his body is underwater for more than a twenty seconds. At that point, Dnarion begins to have savage seizures, and if not aided...can perish from sheer fright alone. Storms do not have this affect on him. As a result, swimming underwater is absolutely impossible for Dnarion.
History: Dnarion was born approximately twenty-eight years ago to unknown Elven parents. It is not known if they are alive, or perished, but Anuriel and Valmacil found him as a babe when he was about three months old laying by a small pond all alone, and wrapped in an emerald blanket. The two Elves took him in as their own, and raised him in the small town of Shim. From that moment, to the age of fifteen; Dnarion had a fairly good life. However, two things popped up during the raising of him that worried both of his foster parents. The first was how badly the heat affected their son. Working outside in the late spring and any time during the summer seemed to be out of the question. Even a single hour out in the hot weather was enough to seriously make Dnarion ill. From then on, both foster parents made sure their son was always inside during such weather. This, unfortunately, did not give him a lot of play time with other kids his age during such hot seasons. The second thing they noticed was Dnarion had a severe fear of deep water. While he could wade out in the water for baths and such; he could not endure having his entire body underwater for more than a few seconds. To do so beyond that left him with terrible seizures, and it was clear that if pressed...it could actually kill him. Neither weakness was something the two foster parents could understand. In the case of the water; they chalked it up to him possibly nearly drowning when he was a baby before they found him. To the case of hot weather; there simply was no real explanation. Either way, Anuriel and Valmacil worked tirelessly to keep their son safe from such harm.
Even at a young age, Dnarion seemed to have a very powerful imagination. One day, when he was only twelve years old, Dnarion was reading a story his mother had given him. As part of his lessons with her; he was to read it aloud. This time, however, when he did so...he instinctively began altering his voice for the various characters in the story. Anuriel was astonished at this strange gift, and afterwards realized her son had read the story in such a way as to give it power. It was as if his gift made the story more real. From then on, Anuriel began teaching her son more about stories and tales, and with each new reading...he became better at making the stories feel more alive. Yet, as strange as the talent was...it was still fairly weak at this young age.
Since going outside during the hot weather seasons was a poor idea...at least for anything around an hour; Dnarion found such times in the house with his father learning how to play chess, or given strategical scenarios to puzzle over. At the same time, his mother taught him about manners...how to speak correctly, politely, how to carry yourself with confidence, but not arrogance, how to address different types of people, and so forth. However, Dnarion was a bit shy, and putting such lessons to use during the fall and winter times was difficult at best. During the winter and fall, however, Dnarion enjoyed his time outside with rain, cooler weather, and even the times when they had snow. Strangely enough, on days when the weather was truly icy and cold, such times did not adversely affect Dnarion. While most would have to bundle up in coats; Dnarion could get away with a light jacket. His shyness, alas, did not allow him to make friends with others in the small town, but at the age of fourteen...Dnarion gave his very first performance.
The performance was a tale about an Elven knight and an evil Troll. From the moment Dnarion began; his gift came to his aid, and the story was a hit instantly. He was even asked to give a second performance, and Dnarion gladly did so...having gained confidence from the first one. The second time round was even better, and every single member of the audience walked away stunned with emotions from the tale. Bravery coursed through the majority of those who listened for nearly ten minutes. Others were inspired to go home and tackle tasks they had not been able to accomplish.
After such a performance, Anuriel and Valmacil knew it would soon be time to leave Shim. Magic was not permitted in the realm, and there was no doubt that Dnarion's gift for tales was tied to magic somehow. Yet, they did not wish to stifle their son either, and so for a year...the two foster parents prepared for the journey they knew they must make. At the age of fifteen; Dnarion found himself on the road with his foster parents. The three of them journeyed for three days east of Shim to a small secluded forest. In the center of this forest was a hidden training camp. The camp was set up to train young people to be warriors, but to also teach them the lore of storytelling and tales. The trainers had no magic about them, and they were a mixture of Elves, Half-elves, and Humans. Instead, they were simply gifted at the art of learning various swords and the longbow. In the case of Dnarion, he chose to learn the longsword. Both Anuriel and Valmacil were among his trainers once he was enrolled, and soon the real lessons began.
For ten years Dnarion trained at this secluded camp. In this time, Dnarion learned more of tales and stories, and was able to speak and write fluently in both Elven and Common. He knew various types of stories ranging from pure fantasy, to historical re-enactments, to romance, horror, mystery and drama. Of these, the first two were his favorites....though he also loved to tell a romantic tale once in a while. With each passing year, his bardic talent became stronger and with greater effect. The trainers watched with great interest as Dnarion's talent became more powerful, but not once did the young Elf show any signs of misusing his gift. Effects from his bardic gift now seemed to last on average an hour after the performance, and with some individuals...a day. Dnarion's power now could touch the hearts and imaginations of his audience in positive ways. Those who listened often walked away feeling refreshed, or extra brave, or inspired in some way to do things they couldn't figure out before. Other times, a calm would settle over them where anger or frustration once existed.
Training with the longbow and longsword was intense. His mother was his teacher with the bow, and his father with the sword. Both were strict instructors, and Dnarion learned with a feverish desire. While the sword was something he had a talent for; his true skill came with the bow. He was fast and accurate, and both of these attributes only increased with the ten years of training. He was no expert, but he could hit a moving target at 150 feet about seventy percent of the time with pinpoint accuracy. Eventually, Dnarion learned to craft his own longbow, and create his own arrows. By the time Dnarion was twenty-four; he had made his own longbow and set of arrows, and had saved up enough money to purchase his own crafting tools for both.
The longsword, while he was not as good with; was still something he showed a talent for wielding. His father taught him mainly the basics, and how to wield the blade in both single combat, and against multiple foes. The other instructors taught him more about formation fighting and working in small units with such a weapon. Dnarion did not enjoy formation fighting much as it restricted his movements more, but in solo or small units...Dnarion excelled. By the time he was twenty; Dnarion could already hold his own in most standard sword fights, and take on novices without much trouble. Agility more than strength was Dnarion's ally, and while his hits were less powerful...they were more frequent and with greater agility. He preferred to wield his blade without a shield, as the shield only seemed to slow him down. While he had training to wear chainmail; Dnarion preferred studded leather or lighter armor types. Such lighter armor did not hinder his agile defenses. By the time graduation came around at the age of twenty-five; Dnarion was given a brand new sword forged just for him by his father. The blade was adorned with a small emerald in the pommel, and his name engraved on either side of the crosshilt. It was a master crafted weapon, and while more narrow than other such blades...no less durable.
Over the next year, Dnarion began to help the trainers keep bandits and foul beasts away. In this way, his practical experience with both weapons began to come into play. During the hot weather seasons; Dnarion would return to tell some new tale to the trainers. During his entire ten years there; he had never met a single other trainee. Yet, he never questioned the lack of other students, but simply had stayed focused on his training. Tragedy, however, struck Dnarion at the age of twenty-six. While travelling from the small academy to Shim; the family was ambushed by savage bandits....none of which looked Human. Though the three fought side by side; his foster father and mother were slain. Their deaths only served to remind Dnarion of the wickedness in the world around him, and further added to his shyness and dire outlook on life. He spent the next year hunting various bandits, creatures, and other foes down out of revenge. The entire time he was mostly quiet...a seething silent rage as he hunted. Then, a new strike hit him in the form of a deadly encounter with a very powerful female Faerie.
The battle between them was brutal! From the very first moment; the battle was all in her favor against Dnarion, but Dnarion's will was not so easily broken. The dark enchantments she attempted to weave around him took a long time before actually beginning to break his spirit. Dnarion fought back with every ounce of his will against her seductive powers, it took all she had to keep him from slipping free to take off her head. It was a fierce battle of sheer willpower, but Dnarion was beginning to lose. Her dark enchantments were beginning to overpower him. However, the woman made a grave error in calculating her power over him, and came within reach of his blade. Something in Dnarion snapped; and up swept his blade to behead her. Though Dnarion had been victorious; the battle left his spirit wounded. He eventually found a small cave to hold up for bit as the battle had drained him severely. Three days later, he woke up feeling different, but unable to truly explain how. He had no idea that his spirit had been sorely wounded to the point of opening him up to enchantments...good or bad. His once strong will was now reduced to a shadow of what he once had. It was nearly a full week before Dnarion recovered enough of his energy to go hunting again, and he began to feel more like his old self. There were, however, some differences he began to notice. The first was he was more skeptical than ever of the goodness of others, and this made him more cautious around strangers. Where before he was shy...now he was more quiet than ever. The second thing he noticed was a lack of ability to feel romantic emotions. This he discovered while attempting to write one of his stories, and when it came to a romantic area...the content had no effect on him. To confirm this; Dnarion read through some of his other stories and tales of epic romance, and not a single one gave him the desire for love or lust of any kind. Sorrow, he could still feel when he would read of the more tragic romantic tales, but those with happiness to them no longer reached Dnarion's heart.
For a year, Dnarion continued to wander the wild. He saw little of anyone during this year. His solitude from others came from the wound to his spirit, and a strange desire to seek out something. Whatever it was, he never found it, and eventually had no choice but to turn his path towards Marn. Strangely enough, the damage to his spirit did not affect his ability to give performances...less it was that some were more melancholy and had more emotion to them. Romantic tales he put aside for the moment until he could figure out what had happened to him.