Orvin Keldarrec Telav

[Keldarrec]

Player Name: Keldarrec
Name: Orvin Keldarrec Telav
Age: 10
Race: Human (Probably? Mostly?)
Height: 3"11
Weight: 49 pounds
Physical Description: When his face is not visible, most people would shave a few years off his actual estimated age. Somewhat shorter than others of his year and quite a bit thinner than most his height, he still manages not to look too unhealthy; he will fill out as he grows. He has a crop of sandy hair, and his blue-green eyes (which nobody can ever agree upon the actual colour of) spend much of the time sparkling, whether with humour, mischief, or the sheer joy of being alive, matched by his ready grin, showing even, white teeth, enhanced by the color of the surrounding flesh - containing just the faintest hint of a tan. His looks have fooled a number of people, so beware - the times he looks the most ernest are the times he is most likely trying one of his tricks.

Possessions: His most valued possessions are both things with could be used as weapons but only one of which is and then only in self-defense; that is more for show anyways, as he has not yet put on the muscle necessary to sustain even the weight of a blade so supple as his. Three feet in length from the end of the hilt to the tip of the blade, it is thin and light, yet strong enough to bear up under the weight of a heavier blade. The handle is wrapped in simple leather, although it is clearly a replacement for an earlier grip; the blade is patterned slightly with wavy lines, just deep enough to glint in the light without impairing functionality, and of a steel almost the colour of tarnished silver, yet completely reflective and of the same colour throughout its entirety. His second possession is a knife, perhaps six inches in length, which he uses for everyday tasks; the blade is simple, functional, with a sharp point and blade but with a dull top; it is kept in a leather sheath which he fashioned, and now wears upon his belt on the opposite side from where he wears his sword (slightly amusing, given that he is not even a foot taller than the sword).

That aside, he wears a simple, grey-brown tunic, repaired in such a way that it appears deliberately bad. In reality, Orvin is not a tailor. The peasant's trousers he wears with them are of a matching colour, and the leather belt about his waist hold both his blades; a small leather pouch, clothed with a drawstring, holds his Bishan and whatever other small odds and ends he has collected... as do his pockets. He collects more than a few.

Powers or Strengths:

Orvin is not the soft child of a nobleman; no. Rather, he is an orphan, and as such has all the experiences of a street child. He knows the layout of Marn, he knows which guards can be joked around with and which ones are strictly guards; and he knows where the guards watch.

He has become something of a thief in recent years, and not a bad one at that. It has developed almost to the point of kleptomania; with certain guardsmen, he will steal things from them and hand them back as a joke. Having no excess fat, he is quick - dexterous of hand, fleet of foot, and quick of wit. Usually. His mind is quick to think of solutions to things and quick to make light of things.

Weaknesses:

Orvin is not yet emotionally stable. Despite his intelligence, he is prone to be somewhat impulsive, doing things that don't always make sense on a whim. He has a tendency to withdraw into himself at times, almost breaking down - not in times of crisis when his body is full of adrenaline and his mind is trying to end the crisis, but at random intervals, with triggers which are not clear.

He also has a tendency to judge people, and, while his hunches are often right, often they are not, and he will go on believing that a good person is a criminal or that a murderer is blameless long after any normal person would have been convinced otherwise. Not that his moral code is the same as that of the average citizen anyways... but he does tend to be either too trusting or extremely suspicious, as well as either over- or underconfident in his own abilities, depending on the day; he tends to think himself the king of the world one day and then be totally dissatisfied with himself the next (again, perhaps a slight exaggeration...)

History:

His first memory (and he doesn't know where it's from) is that of a small room by the fire; or at least he assumes it was small, because in the memory it is quite large. He was just past three at the time. The fire was burning in the hearth, his father sitting in the wooden chair while his mother sat on a blanket, weaving another. It seemed normal enough, but there was something indicating tension... perhaps it was the lack of clutter, the readiness to leave at the slightest instant, or the fact that his father's sword, which usually hung over the door, was gone, replaced by a larger sword which he wore at his side. Pietre Hunsvar stood quietly, brooding; a good man, and usually cheerful, he had just finished talking about something in deep tones with the senior Telav.

Orvin could not recall anything which could have served as a warning to his father, but he remembered him standing, the sound the heavier sword made as it was drawn. The blade glinted in the firelight, and Orvin Kelderric Telav turned to his friend. "It is time. Take the boy away." A cold speech, not even saying farewell to his own son... but Kelderric was that way under stress.

Hunsvar shook his head. "Don't orphan the lad. I've no family. Go."

Kelderric stared at Hunsvar, his eyes burning as he anticipated what was to come. "You are not the one who offended them. They are not after you. Go. Now."

Hunsvar gazed back, then turned, tucking the boy under one arm and heading for the back exit. He paused briefly, extending a "Farewell" to his old friend, who smiled sadly in return; for this time it was farewell indeed. Once outside, he hoisted the boy onto the horse behind him, forcing himself not to spur the horse to a gallop down the road. After all, the way they were going would take them past the men. Whoever they were. All Orvin saw of them was the five black horses, the five men wrapped in black cloth, five men carrying swords. Five pairs of eyes seeming to laugh, knowing that the two they passed would one day be their target... or maybe Orvin had forced that into the memory. Then they were passed, and behind them there was smoke and flame, the house burning... and that was all he could remember, but that was enough. It was burnt into his memory as surely as the house was burnt to the ground.

They had moved to Shim, then, at one of Hunsvar's houses. It lasted barely three months before Pietre told him to get on the horse because they were leaving. A pillar of smoke rose behind them as they travelled to Marn, the guardsman nodding as he admitted the man; he was recognized, as he had spent a good deal of time there. This lasted for a year. The house was larger, somewhat more spacious, but less comfortable, more stylized. Pietre grew more and more tense, leading Orvin to take longer and longer walks, spending more time with the other children of the area - not that there were many. One day, when he came home, Hunsvar thrust something into his arms. "Your father's, and his father's, and his father's before him, back into the vagaries of time." A smaller object, wrapped in a similar cloth, was pressed into his hand. "Mine." Before the youngster could respond, the man had locked himself in his room.

However, the next day, after Orvin bound the sword to his back and strapped the knife to his belt, he detected a faint smell of smoke. Gazing back towards the house, he saw the glow of flame, and realized that Pietre would not be getting over his case of nerves, would never become his former cheerful self - or any self, for that matter. It was a good thing he had made connections during his walks. Over the next few weeks, he reflected that his father would likely be surprised at some of the new skills he was picking up... but his father wasn't one to talk. Whatever he had done had offended some people very badly. It would be nice to know, but these thoughts soon faded out of Orvin's mind to become questions of idle speculation in times of boredom.