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| Ariamil Sorian; Elf Bard | |
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| Topic Started: May 14 2010, 05:39 PM (329 Views) | |
| Deleted User | May 14 2010, 05:39 PM Post #1 |
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Deleted User
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Name – Ariamil Sorian Age – 150 Gender – Male Alignment – Chaotic Good Social Class – Nobility Occupation – Bard Race – High Elf Weapons – Ariamil finds weapons to be too brutish and messy. However, when push comes to shove, he carries a Rapier to defend against melee attackers. Physical Appearance – Ariamil is 5’6”. He has long blonde hair, and green eyes. During an average day he is seen wearing a pale blue tunic, white breeches, brown leather boots, and his trusty red cape. Around his neck, Ariamil wears a silk scarf, a single relic belonging to his long-lost amour. Beneath his shirt, Ariamil wears a thin mithril shirt, which is sturdy enough to repel most attacks, but is thin enough to be penetrated by a powerful strike. This small bit of armor provides protection without hampering his movement. Personality – Ariamil comes off as very kind and affectionate. His heart is warm on the outside, but the loss of his beloved has cooled the core of his being. On most days, he usually spends his time drinking, feeling too strongly the pain of his loss. On his good days, Ariamil wanders about, looking for new sights and sounds. Within this bard is a love for the thrill of adventure. History – Ariamil was born one hundred fifty years ago in the city of Kinaldi. His mother was a housewife, and his father was a wealthy merchant. Many of his early years were spent travelling with his father, going from city to city in search of new markets to sell their goods. As Ariamil reached adulthood, he had discovered a wandering minstrel who had caught his eye. She was of fine elven breed. Her long blonde hair blew about in wisps as a seemingly magickal breeze picked at it. The music she played on her flute was like a siren’s call, bringing him ever closer to her beautiful visage. The young elf was smitten, and he could not bear to leave her side. It was like a match made by the Fates, and it wasn’t long before their love had blossomed. Ariamil bid his family farewell, and ventured out into the countryside with his beloved Eilonwy. As they travelled the vast lands of Soare, she taught him the ways of weaving together music and magick. Over several years, he mastered the art of the Mandolin, which he would later use as his medium to cast his spells. For twenty years, the two elves wandered the land, making the most beautiful music together. Ariamil had the light of the world in his hands, and he could not have been happier. Just when it seemed their love would last an eternity, the light in Ariamil’s heart was dimmed forever. Five year ago, a band of raiders came upon their camp, and began assaulting them. Grievously outnumbered, Eilonwy and Ariamil tried vainly to fight off their attackers. Though the odds were stacked against them, they had fended off most of the bandits. Garret Black-Heart, the bandit leader challenged Ariamil to single combat, which he willingly obliged. During the fight, Ariamil bested his opponent at every turn. It seemed as if he was about to win when the unthinkable happened. One of the bandit leader’s minions grabbed Eilonwy from behind and pierced her heart with a black dagger. As she let out a muffled scream, Ariamil turned to gaze upon his wife. The bandit king took the opportunity to run Ariamil through with his Long Sword. As the blood poured from the gaping wound, the bandits mounted their horses and sped off into the night. Ariamil mustered the last of his remaining strength to drag his bloodied body to be by the side of his beloved. He viewed her wound, and judging by the bleeding, she would not last much longer. With tears filling his eyes, Ariamil grabbed Eilonwy’s hand. She gazed at him with glazed eyes, and handed him her silk scarf, saying: “Please, live for me. Live for me and for the Love of beautiful Music.” As the life left Eilonwy’s body, it entered Ariamil’s, healing his wounds as he lay weeping for his lost love. The physical pain left his body, but the pain of his loss was still too near. He lay on the ground for four days, not moving nor breathing. Ariamil was in a beautiful state of death, preserved by the magicks of their final song. On the fifth day, Ariamil awoke to the sound of birds chirping. The death of his betrothed weighed heavily on his heart, but he had a newfound look at the world. It was like being reborn, given a second chance at living a life with purpose. He ventured out into the world, playing music all the more beautifully now that he carried her spirit with him. To this day, whenever Ariamil plays in front of a busy tavern crowd, the faintest sound of a flute fills the air, a lasting reminder of their undying love. First Five Abilities
Additional Simple Abilities
Additional Intermediate Abilities
Additional Advanced Spells
This profile has been approved by Yorishine. Edited by Yorishine, May 15 2010, 06:42 PM.
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