Tarin Vonish
Posted: Mon Feb 05, 2007 8:08 am
Name: Tarin Vonish
Age: 20
Race: Human
Height: 6' 0"
Weight: 140 lbs.
Physical Description: Wiry and scruffy, Tarin always appears disheveled. His hair remains in the rumpled heap he woke up is and his face is often marred with dirt. He wears pair of rough leather pants, a grey shirt and a green vest. He constantly carries a worn leather pack on his back and a gnomish revolver tucked into his belt. He has cloudy grey eyes and a crooked smile that broadly displays his teeth. His nose is a bit large, but not ungainly. He walks in a loping gait that belies his natural speed and grace.
Possessions: Tarin owns very little other than the clothes on his back. The revolver in his belt has only five bullets in its six chambers, which he finds too expensive to waste. The pack on his back holds a skeleton, and nothing else. Without much to his name Tarin survives through cunning and guile, always looking for something easy to steal, or a good job that he can pick up before wandering off again.
Powers or Strengths: Tarin recently discovered that he has necromantic powers, that is he has control over the dead. He currently only knows how to control the skeleton he keeps on his back, but thinks that there is a potential to do more.
Physically he is fairly weak, slightly under normal. However he is fast and graceful relying on those attributes to carry him in case of an altercation.
He is very friendly, and tends to be a bit charming. A cunning rouge he would spend his last few Bishani to avoid a fight, and rarely finds a situation he can't talk himself out of.
Weaknesses: Having only discovered his magical potential very recently he has little control or finesse with it, currently able to control only one, very specific corpse. He has no contacts to go to to ask about his newfound skill and even when he meets someone knowledgable about magic he is worried that the nature of his gift would be seen as a negative.
Having spent large amounts of his youth stealing to survive he is not trusting, or trusted by the law, he tries to keep interactions with authorities to a minimum and keeps on the move as much as possible.
He is physically weak and gets injured easily. Making running from physical altercation his most common option.
Though he can be very personable he lets his charm get him into trouble, often talking his way into a corner, or boasting more than he can back up. His big mouth and cavalier attitude can quite often land him in difficult positions.
History: Tarin was born on a small farm in Thar Shaddin. When his father first brought him to market, at age ten, he was overwhelmed by the city. He knew, at that point, there was more to life than pulling potatos from the ground and set his mind to greater things.
Not long after he turned sixteen he left his home and family to try to make his way in Marn; he failed. As hunger set in he lost the last of his naivete, realising that a dirty, uneducated farm boy was not going to find employment. After a week, he was ready to return to the farm, tail between his legs. However, as he was getting ready to leave, dejected and with the pack that had once held food on now hanging empty on his back, a girl came skidding around the street corner colliding with him.
The firey red head gazed at him for a moment with her rich, green eyes before roughly spinning him around. "Take this!" She hissed stuffing his pack with several loaves of bread and a few apples, "And don't go ANYWHERE."
Dazed he watched as she disappeared again, silently wondering who the strange girl was. As he sat down, eagerly awaiting her return (he assumed she would be coming back) he was again suddenly bowled over by a city guard.
"Did you see a young girl with red hair come by here?" the burly man insisted. Tarin dumbly pointed the way she had fled. The guard moved on without another word. Before Tarin could quite make sense of this series of events the redhead reappeared in front of him. She tumbled on the ground after leaping from the roof above him.
"There's not a guard around who can catch me," She said as she started rummaging through the pack for food, "but its still damn rude to tell them where I went, luckily I knew someone who let me on their building. He'll be running down that street a while I expect."
She broke a loaf of bread in half and offered one half to Tarin. "You're going to have to be quicker on you're feet now that you're a thief."
Tarin tore in to his meal voraciously, "Thief?" He mumbled through a mouthfull of bread, "I didn't steal anything."
The redhead shook her head sadly. "You've got a lot to learn."
Tarin spent the next several months with the girl, whose name he learned was Marissa. She taught him how to steal and how to avoid the guards. She showed him where to go where innkeepers would keep a young vagabond safe, and how to run some simple scams and swindles to make a quick profit.
The two young people swiftly fell in love, and lived the simple but exciting life of thieves and con artists for several years. In this time Tarin became hardened and wise, quick on his feet and with his tounge. He could steal from merchants with little worry, and talk his way out of it when they saw him. He was dashing and headstrong but most of all happy with his life. Marissa, however wanted more.
"There's a man in town who I heard about has a gnomish gun, I bet we could fence that for a pretty penny." she told him one night.
"I don't know, couldn't that be dangerous?"
"We've never been caught before..."
Before long Tarin was convinced to go with her, and the young couple snuck out at night to steal the weapon. Getting into the house was no problem, the lock clicked open in a jiffy and there were no guards. They cased the house, finding numerous valuables and a myriad of technological gadgets. Finally, in a case on the wall, was the revolver they were looking for. As Marissa gently took it down, eyes wide with excitement, a stern voice called out behind them.
"Thieves, how ignorant you are. You think I wouldn't guard a collection such as this? And you didn't even steal the most valuable piece." The cool voice chuckled softly.
A richly dressed man ha somehow gotten behind them.
"Marissa, put the gun down and lets go." Tarin said breathlessly.
She glared at the owner of the collecton "I'll never get caught." She lowly leveled the weapon upon him, shaking slightly.
"Marissa please don't..." it was too late. Before he could say anything else the man snapped his fingers and Marissa was sheathed in flame, after only a few moments her skeleton crumpled to the ground, devoid of flesh or muscle, stained black. Tarin collapsed screaming. Horrified at the violence of the magic he just saw. The owner of the gun stalked over to the howling boy and slapped him.
"You're next thief." Tarin suddenly became quiet though, as he saw something even more horrifying. The skeleton of his love was standing behind the man, holding the revolver to his temple, a loud shot rang out, and the owner of the gun fell dead.
Standing slowly he brushed his hand against the bone where Marissa's cheek once was, tears filling his eyes. The skeleton now stood like a statue before Tarin. Without explanation he knew that he had somehow risen Marissa's form. With a thought from Tarin the skeleton lost its structure and became a pile of blackened bones again. He gingerly put each of them into the ragged pack on his back, and tucked the gun, now missing one of its bullets, into his belt. He ran out of the house into the night, his cries ringing loudly; The memory of his love in his heart, and her body on his back.
Age: 20
Race: Human
Height: 6' 0"
Weight: 140 lbs.
Physical Description: Wiry and scruffy, Tarin always appears disheveled. His hair remains in the rumpled heap he woke up is and his face is often marred with dirt. He wears pair of rough leather pants, a grey shirt and a green vest. He constantly carries a worn leather pack on his back and a gnomish revolver tucked into his belt. He has cloudy grey eyes and a crooked smile that broadly displays his teeth. His nose is a bit large, but not ungainly. He walks in a loping gait that belies his natural speed and grace.
Possessions: Tarin owns very little other than the clothes on his back. The revolver in his belt has only five bullets in its six chambers, which he finds too expensive to waste. The pack on his back holds a skeleton, and nothing else. Without much to his name Tarin survives through cunning and guile, always looking for something easy to steal, or a good job that he can pick up before wandering off again.
Powers or Strengths: Tarin recently discovered that he has necromantic powers, that is he has control over the dead. He currently only knows how to control the skeleton he keeps on his back, but thinks that there is a potential to do more.
Physically he is fairly weak, slightly under normal. However he is fast and graceful relying on those attributes to carry him in case of an altercation.
He is very friendly, and tends to be a bit charming. A cunning rouge he would spend his last few Bishani to avoid a fight, and rarely finds a situation he can't talk himself out of.
Weaknesses: Having only discovered his magical potential very recently he has little control or finesse with it, currently able to control only one, very specific corpse. He has no contacts to go to to ask about his newfound skill and even when he meets someone knowledgable about magic he is worried that the nature of his gift would be seen as a negative.
Having spent large amounts of his youth stealing to survive he is not trusting, or trusted by the law, he tries to keep interactions with authorities to a minimum and keeps on the move as much as possible.
He is physically weak and gets injured easily. Making running from physical altercation his most common option.
Though he can be very personable he lets his charm get him into trouble, often talking his way into a corner, or boasting more than he can back up. His big mouth and cavalier attitude can quite often land him in difficult positions.
History: Tarin was born on a small farm in Thar Shaddin. When his father first brought him to market, at age ten, he was overwhelmed by the city. He knew, at that point, there was more to life than pulling potatos from the ground and set his mind to greater things.
Not long after he turned sixteen he left his home and family to try to make his way in Marn; he failed. As hunger set in he lost the last of his naivete, realising that a dirty, uneducated farm boy was not going to find employment. After a week, he was ready to return to the farm, tail between his legs. However, as he was getting ready to leave, dejected and with the pack that had once held food on now hanging empty on his back, a girl came skidding around the street corner colliding with him.
The firey red head gazed at him for a moment with her rich, green eyes before roughly spinning him around. "Take this!" She hissed stuffing his pack with several loaves of bread and a few apples, "And don't go ANYWHERE."
Dazed he watched as she disappeared again, silently wondering who the strange girl was. As he sat down, eagerly awaiting her return (he assumed she would be coming back) he was again suddenly bowled over by a city guard.
"Did you see a young girl with red hair come by here?" the burly man insisted. Tarin dumbly pointed the way she had fled. The guard moved on without another word. Before Tarin could quite make sense of this series of events the redhead reappeared in front of him. She tumbled on the ground after leaping from the roof above him.
"There's not a guard around who can catch me," She said as she started rummaging through the pack for food, "but its still damn rude to tell them where I went, luckily I knew someone who let me on their building. He'll be running down that street a while I expect."
She broke a loaf of bread in half and offered one half to Tarin. "You're going to have to be quicker on you're feet now that you're a thief."
Tarin tore in to his meal voraciously, "Thief?" He mumbled through a mouthfull of bread, "I didn't steal anything."
The redhead shook her head sadly. "You've got a lot to learn."
Tarin spent the next several months with the girl, whose name he learned was Marissa. She taught him how to steal and how to avoid the guards. She showed him where to go where innkeepers would keep a young vagabond safe, and how to run some simple scams and swindles to make a quick profit.
The two young people swiftly fell in love, and lived the simple but exciting life of thieves and con artists for several years. In this time Tarin became hardened and wise, quick on his feet and with his tounge. He could steal from merchants with little worry, and talk his way out of it when they saw him. He was dashing and headstrong but most of all happy with his life. Marissa, however wanted more.
"There's a man in town who I heard about has a gnomish gun, I bet we could fence that for a pretty penny." she told him one night.
"I don't know, couldn't that be dangerous?"
"We've never been caught before..."
Before long Tarin was convinced to go with her, and the young couple snuck out at night to steal the weapon. Getting into the house was no problem, the lock clicked open in a jiffy and there were no guards. They cased the house, finding numerous valuables and a myriad of technological gadgets. Finally, in a case on the wall, was the revolver they were looking for. As Marissa gently took it down, eyes wide with excitement, a stern voice called out behind them.
"Thieves, how ignorant you are. You think I wouldn't guard a collection such as this? And you didn't even steal the most valuable piece." The cool voice chuckled softly.
A richly dressed man ha somehow gotten behind them.
"Marissa, put the gun down and lets go." Tarin said breathlessly.
She glared at the owner of the collecton "I'll never get caught." She lowly leveled the weapon upon him, shaking slightly.
"Marissa please don't..." it was too late. Before he could say anything else the man snapped his fingers and Marissa was sheathed in flame, after only a few moments her skeleton crumpled to the ground, devoid of flesh or muscle, stained black. Tarin collapsed screaming. Horrified at the violence of the magic he just saw. The owner of the gun stalked over to the howling boy and slapped him.
"You're next thief." Tarin suddenly became quiet though, as he saw something even more horrifying. The skeleton of his love was standing behind the man, holding the revolver to his temple, a loud shot rang out, and the owner of the gun fell dead.
Standing slowly he brushed his hand against the bone where Marissa's cheek once was, tears filling his eyes. The skeleton now stood like a statue before Tarin. Without explanation he knew that he had somehow risen Marissa's form. With a thought from Tarin the skeleton lost its structure and became a pile of blackened bones again. He gingerly put each of them into the ragged pack on his back, and tucked the gun, now missing one of its bullets, into his belt. He ran out of the house into the night, his cries ringing loudly; The memory of his love in his heart, and her body on his back.