Val'ystil

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Val'ystil

Postby Val'ystil » Sun Apr 08, 2018 5:54 pm

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Image \V/______Val'sytil______\V/
|I|_Soulful Wanderer_|I|



What Becomes Him?

RACE KIND: Sev'ryn
ARCS OLD: 20 Arcs
GENDER: Trans Male (FtM)
DATE BORN: 14th Ashan, 696
BIRTH PLACE: Desnind
ASSOCATIONS: None
PROFESSIONS: Dancer, Alchemist
Blessings: TBD

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LANGUAGES: <Fluent Common> <Broken Xanthea>



What Does The Eye See?

A true Sev’ryn born of Desnind, Val’s skin is a smidge darker than most, his hair long and unkempt; some might even see it to be wild. His athletic, gaunt features stylize him as someone marginally gifted with foreign beauty. His nose, a chiseled masterpiece. The chin, a beautiful undersea iceberg jutting there. And his brow? Oh, let’s not forget the brow. It’s a stunning series of shallow canyons. The gifts of biology do not end there, for he is as tall as they come. At an unassuming height of five feet and six inches, he can still blend into a crowd even if he’s the type to catch the eye.

His hands are leathery and strong from years in his youth spent climbing and hiking to yore and back, whilst the same could be said about the soles of his feet. Where he is not callous, his bare body is riddled with minuscule, white or red scars, especially upon his palms, each of them a distinct note in a long weave of stories to tell. Altercations stemming from visits with mountain lions gone awry, thorny bushes drawn away by hand, jagged stones cutting deep, and the toils of a former life enslaved by others.

It may come as no surprise to many, but Val wears very little clothing. Anything he does wear is functional, and thus he only wears a simple tattered cloak to shelter his body from the elements when need-be, and a loincloth over his undergarments for basic decency. Such things were a must for society--he tried running naked in the woods in Scalvoris, but he got a stern talking to when someone discovered him traipsing through the woods like a savage. Needless to say, he learned his lesson.

Upon his back is the single vibrant green tattoo of a large tree, its branches snaking across his shoulder blades, its trunk winding down his spine. White scars perforate and sever its branches and trunk, a mark from his past marring that once beautiful, ornate tattoo inscribed unto him by his very father.


Soul Of TheTrue

Character

What is and what is not cannot be stated so accurately with this man. One moment, he’s a passionate flame roaring over the countryside, brimming with confidence. The next, he’s wallowing in his mind, trying to make sense of cruelty whilst seeking comfort through the maze of mind. Beyond this, he is carefree, easily finding humor and curiosity in everything and far from shy to show how he feels.

A youth in Desnind sculpted the man. Some see him as childish with how he carries himself, interested in fun and games wherever they may be found, and quick to smile wide, however goofy and cringe-inducing this form of beaming might be to the cold of heart. He is like a moth to flame when it comes to a finely spun tale, and he is not afraid to share his own, which are whimsical with many liberties sprinkled within. Val'ystil seeks to understand all things, and sees this understanding as the ultimate wisdom one can attain.

Lies do not phase him, though slander does sting. He tries to understand people where he can, and studies their behavior. Both sides of an argument have merit after all, and he has found himself the mediator between quarrels several times, helping both parties to compromise as a neutral party. Still, his nature remains that: neutral. He has few motivations beyond helping people to feel the freedom of the Sevir way and learning stories, rituals, and sciences. Morals are so fickle from person to person; everyone believes themselves to be right. Why not shed such burdensome ideals?

This aloofness has led to a difficulty in the man establishing a sense of work ethic. He simply goes where the wind takes him, intellectually or otherwise.


Beliefs

A Sev’ryn whom has found and bonded with his Ose-Bori, he holds a deep spiritual connection with that other part of himself. He is never truly alone, though he remembers what that was like from his youth. He could part from the civilized world for Arcs at a time, and still feel no less without company, always.

His relationship with Moseke is somewhat neutral, but choosey. He admires life in all its myriad of glories, and treasures all that nature is. His reverence for her comes of beauty and necessity, Life being a core value instilled unto him by his father from a young age. He takes no hard stance on faith, and will easily waver if given a good enough reason.

Boundlessly creative and aloof, it may come as no surprise that he finds reverence for Jesine. He can’t help but admire her, and what she embodies. He loves the many dreams he’s experienced, the formless reality comforting for what it is; anything. The ultimate world of freedom, endless in all ways.

Finally, and more recently, he has begun to admire Cassion. The wanderlust is strong within him, and the moment he held a map in his hands for the first time, he found himself drawn in every direction. There is a need within him, to see and discover the world, and learn of the stories these people have to share. Cassion embodies this need, and he longs to meet the legend someday.
User avatar
Val'ystil
 
Posts: 14
Joined: Sun Apr 08, 2018 3:27 am
Race: Sev'ryn
Profession: Dancer
Renown: 0
Character Sheet

Val'ystil

Postby Val'ystil » Wed Apr 11, 2018 12:17 pm

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The Journey So Far


History

Without Rhyme, Nor Reason

Remembrance takes us back to the humming forests of Desnind, back to our youth, where the sun never set upon the mind, and concerns were ample but quaint. The nature of things was clear in Val'ystil's eyes, as taught to him by his father, an Alchemist, but still he felt the call to explore more of that world around, venturing further and further into the wilds, and even straying into places he was forbidden from traversing. On one such day, he followed curiously an orb of light, and he became lost. When a friend of the family found him, he had been gone for six days, but to him it had felt like hours. Part of him questions those blurry memories, but he knows naught of why such things are as they are, and instead seeks to discover by setting his feet forward, in the direction of lands unexplored.

Much of his life, he felt the call. The call to fields of woad, of pastures yellow, and flowing silk as golden as the setting sun. It came to him in dreams, and in fleeting momentary trails of thought, always hinting that he should be venturing out further beyond the world he knew. Thus, at only thirteen Arcs of age, he sailed for Rynmere. Trials away from the coast, the ship was beset by pirates, and he was taken as a slave, where he was eventually sold to Venora. There, he gazed upon his fields of woad, and only knew them as fields of woe; without his liberty, life seemed so bleak, so narrow and confining. Still, he persisted.

These nights were not without their mysticalities, for his mind drew him further and further out beyond his bounds. Venoran mettle could not hold him perpetually, and one blistering Saun he took to the roads and finally traveled those golden fields as he had come to Rynmere to do. His feet boiled, and his lungs ached, and he could feel the dogged Venorans blazing at his tail, but he found him. He found Rhyme, his Ose-Bori. As Naaj asked of him to live free, the Venorans took his arms, ripping him away from that half of his soul. His resolve had never been so strong.

Returning to service was bittersweet. He knew he was so close to discovering that part of himself, and yet the shackles that bound him held him so far down that he could not even begin to see the sky, his duties growing more menial and cloistered with every infraction he incurred. One day, he saw his chance. Venora was direly taxed by war, and so he simply wandered off into the woods, and as Rhyme watched, hammered the iron binding with jagged stones until they could hold him no longer.

Freedom struck like lightning, and exhilaration flooded his mind. There was so much to say to Rhyme, as he walked through the woods endlessly, surviving by the skin of his teeth only barely, but enjoying every moment. One journey led to another, and eventually he found himself whisked away to Scalvoris, where he found his peace of mind easy to exercise through dance and exotic display. He became a dancer, a Bard of sorts, wandering from isle to isle to perform, and sharing his soul, his freedom with the world he knew.

The Ose-bori

Through dawn and dusk, day to night blended together on the wavy seas of Chrien's fury. The rains blew and the winds battered, and the fear in the air was palpable.

In the hold, the ship rocked, and the peoples huddled around a lantern that swung with the breeze. A lone Sev'ryn man held hands with others from around the world, carrying the type of light these people needed.

"Abẹrẹ ripi, and rejoice, for I hear captain has given the time; seven trials, until we feel Moseke beneath our toes," Val'ystil said to the group. "I am certain all will be well. All will be well, sev aji etahi."

Many seemed unconvinced, many drew away, or slumbered upon their cots with no conviction or sense of community. Val yearned to lift the spirits of these women and children, knowing the loss of two sailors overboard were no mere sailors; they were family, fathers, and soul mates. A widow merely wept, constantly, and her weeping sobs carried a bitter tone for Trials since.

That night was restless. The visions grew to a nightly affair, and every single dream he had was of the woad meadow, golden-yellow flowers embraced by the cover of trees all around. These visions comforted him, but he could see it, he could see that face in the trees staring back at him. Before he could touch it, the creature slinked away into the trees, and he awoke the next morning feeling a sense of longing.

Only, this time he awoke, the ship was rattling. Screams sounded off the stern, roaring laughter from heartless men and women as those who resisted were cut down above, the thud of their boots marching through the ship terrifying to witness. Val's eyes gazed up, and he brought the children to the store room, hiding them in crates--perhaps they would be sheltered from the red dripping from the ceiling that so made his skin ripple with bumps.

Val didn't fight back when they found him. He was a young boy, barely of thirteen Arcs. They saw his value, they fed him a paltry amount, and promptly smuggled him into his original destination; Venora would be his new home, only he would be deprived of the freedom he so sought to visit the meadow that called, that face blurry.

He did not take well to these lands, and he felt the call. He wandered off, for the hills, exploring despite the metal that made every step that much heavier. They could not temper his spirit, or break him into what they wanted, but every time they found him, the punishments grew worse and worse. He had his eyes set on a bluff deep in the hills, but he could never reach it; with the Venorans so hotly on his heels, he felt he would never reach it. On the third attempt, they lashed him so severely, the tattoo of a tree his father had inked into his back had its branches sundered, the trunk cleaved in two with angry red scars that bubbled and festered with sickness. It was the true test of his spirit.

As hope dwindled, the visions grew more distant, but one night the most vivid of dreams invaded his mind; Val'ystil. Val'ystil, freedom, spoke the curled vulpine lips of that ghostly entity he so longed to finally meet. He awoke to find the guard pulled from the building he toiled to make crafts in, to better bolster the personal security of the nobility. He fled to the hills beyond, scaled that bluff and clambered over stone until his fingers bled, and deep in the mountains there he found a thicket that seemed close to his visions. Already, he could hear the hounds howling far in the distance, their braying voices telling their masters the quarry they tracked was close at hand, and yet beyond terrain the Masters seemed unwilling to traverse.

There, in the clearing, he pulled a stone from the earth and hammered away at the rusted iron, hearing the whispers growing more urgent, until he felt it crack and give way. The exhilirating, ice-cold feeling rushed through him, and as that metal fell away, he looked up to see a golden aura flashing before his eyes.

There, naught but a few inches for his face, was a towering fox-like creature of mottled brown, translucent coat, with a long, wispy tail trailing behind it. They shared a long moment of staring for some time, before Val shuddered away the very last bit of his breath and embraced that ghostly creature before him.

Val'ystil...

The sense of urgency fell away, and as he clung to that warm figure and felt it against him, nothing else existed except that sense of completion, like a long-lost peace of the puzzle.

Val'ystil, we must go now. The spirit urged him, tugging its head away. Reality and rational thought flooded into his mind, as if he were hit by a hammer. The weight of reality nearly crushed him, but he knew the intent of his Ose-bori was true; wisdom, and freedom. It was wise to flee now, and be free.

And so he looked around. "My friend, what do I call you?" He brushed his hand across the creature's muzzle, and felt it push back against his palm consolingly. "And where do I go?"
Val'ystil, I am to be known: Rhyme. We go. This way.

He watched that graceful spirit glide across the grass. It stopped to stare back at him at the edge of the trees, the yellow flowers losing their luster under the pallor of the moon above. That airy voice whispered into his mind once more. We go, where the dogs cannot follow.

Val'ystil nodded, and bolted for the trees. Chimes later, a weary Venoran man stumbled through the woods, breathing harsh and cursing under his breath as he looked around. He found those metal cuffs in the flowers there, and grimaced, holding them tight in his fist and peering at the tracks taking them through the tangle of thick woods, trails unknown to all but Rhyme guiding the runaway's steps far into the night.
User avatar
Val'ystil
 
Posts: 14
Joined: Sun Apr 08, 2018 3:27 am
Race: Sev'ryn
Profession: Dancer
Renown: 0
Character Sheet

Val'ystil - Skills

Postby Val'ystil » Wed Apr 11, 2018 3:24 pm

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Grasp With Your Mind


Skills

Dancing 5/100 - Novice 5/251
Dreamwalking 0/100 - N/A 0/100
Meditation 25/100 - Novice 25/251
Medicine 5/100 - Novice 5/251
Alchemy 25/100 - Novice 25/251
Chemistry 5/100 - Novice 5/251
Design 5/100 - Novice 5/251
Research 5/100 - Novice 5/251
Fieldcraft 10/100 - Novice 10/100 [FT]


RenownLedger

Renown Ledger
Source Amount Total


Skill Ledger

Skill Ledger
Skill Name Gain Total
Meditation 25 RB
Dancing 5 SP
Alchemy 25 SP
Medicine 5 SP
Design 5 SP
Chemistry 5 SP
Research 5 SP
Fieldcraft 0 FT 0
User avatar
Val'ystil
 
Posts: 14
Joined: Sun Apr 08, 2018 3:27 am
Race: Sev'ryn
Profession: Dancer
Renown: 0
Character Sheet

Val'ystil

Postby Val'ystil » Wed Apr 11, 2018 3:26 pm

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Seek To Understand


Knowledge

Spirit
Meditation 4 Lores
Breathing Technique The Beginnings of a Trance
Filtering Loud Noises Exploring Deep Thought


Martial
N/A


Mental
Alchemy 1 Lore
The Principle of Change


People
N/A


Places
N/A


Things
N/A


Other
N/A
User avatar
Val'ystil
 
Posts: 14
Joined: Sun Apr 08, 2018 3:27 am
Race: Sev'ryn
Profession: Dancer
Renown: 0
Character Sheet

Val'ystil - Possessions

Postby Val'ystil » Wed Apr 11, 2018 3:27 pm

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Bags Never Quite Full


Possessions

Belongings


General
One Set of Toiletries: Soap, A comb or brush, razor, toothbrush, toothpaste,
One waterskin
Two sets of eating utensils
Tinderbox

Weapons
Well, he has a single razor, so I guess that's a weapon.

Trade Tools
Scribe's Kit
First-Aid Kit
Chemist's Kit
Sewing Kit


Outfits


Apparel
Leather and Glass Goggles (Often Worn on Forehead)
Simple Venora Coat
Cotton Shirt
The Undergarments
The Pantiest of Common Pants
Boots With the Fur

When working with dangerous substances:
Heavy Canvas Apron (leather)
Heavy Canvas Gloves (leather)


Home & Property


Renting at the Knight's Rest Inn


Financial Ledger


Item Change Total
Starting Package +100 GN 100 GN
Housing Cash-In +250 GN 350 GN
Scribe's Kit -18 GN 332 GN
First-Aid Kit -22 GN 310 GN
Chemist's Kit -115 GN 195 GN
Sewing Kit -6 GN 189 GN
Heavy Canvas Apron (leather) -4 GN 185 GN
Heavy Canvas Gloves (leather)-8 GN 177 GN
Leather and Glass Goggles -4 GN 173 GN
User avatar
Val'ystil
 
Posts: 14
Joined: Sun Apr 08, 2018 3:27 am
Race: Sev'ryn
Profession: Dancer
Renown: 0
Character Sheet

Val'ystil - Relationships

Postby Val'ystil » Wed Apr 11, 2018 3:28 pm

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The Ties That Bind


Tight Bonds



Friendships



Nemesis
User avatar
Val'ystil
 
Posts: 14
Joined: Sun Apr 08, 2018 3:27 am
Race: Sev'ryn
Profession: Dancer
Renown: 0
Character Sheet

Val'ystil - Thread List

Postby Val'ystil » Wed Apr 11, 2018 3:29 pm

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What's Done Is Done


Thread List

Ashan 718:
0th - [url=placeholder]placeholder[/url] - unfinished, +0


Memory:
Birth - Cylus 717 - Location: Rynmere[/url]
User avatar
Val'ystil
 
Posts: 14
Joined: Sun Apr 08, 2018 3:27 am
Race: Sev'ryn
Profession: Dancer
Renown: 0
Character Sheet

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