Bartholomew
"If you can't tell,
does it matter?"
Full Name: Bartholomew Strife"If you can't tell,
does it matter?"
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 150 lbs.
Age: 45 Arcs
Birthdate: 32nd Day of Zi'da, 672
Birthplace: Quacia
Profession: TBD
Housing: A single room, 400 sq. ft home in Quacia. It has the following furnishings: one bed, two chairs, one table, two knives, a set of six plates (assorted), one chest, and a fireplace.
Partners: N/A
Marks: N/A
Factions Joined: N/A
Languages
Fluent: Vahanic
Broken: Common
Appearance
Its hard not to draw a comparison to a rat when one looks upon Bartholomew Strife. A sharp, wide nose dominates his narrow face with a pair of dull gray-blue eyes sitting above them. His lips are thin and often pursed, and his chin was wide and squarish. Age has been to mar a once smooth complexion; wrinkles were beginning to form across his wide brow and beneath his eyes. His hair, a muddy brown with the first streaks of gray showing through, is often slicked back and held there by the natural greases the human body produced. That, coupled with the faint smell of rotting flesh that marked him as a Necromancer, aids in the air of pallor that hangs about the man.
Bartholomew is a man of average height and build with a body that had never known much physical labor. His back and forearms were riddled with old white scars, reminders of his faith in the Wounded God over the arcs. Despite his constant use of his hands, they remained soft to the touch. Save for the scruff that grew on his face, the man was surprisingly hairless on the rest of his body, the follicles never maturing to the stage that they produced color pigment. No tattoos or other blemishes mark his body save for the one's he inflicted by his own hand.
Despite his passion for the arts, Bartholomew himself is prone to drabness in his own life. His clothing is never extravagant or gaudy. He preferred grays, blacks, and browns in his fashion and rarely splurged on finer textiles. Furthermore, he was not prone to jewelry or other unnecessary accessories. He did not disapprove of it in those around him; he simply was not interested in adopting the practices in his own life.
Personality
Bartholomew Strife, above all else, is an artist. He is an imaginative soul threaded together by a multitude of mediums and loves nothing more than to expand upon his knowledge of them. He can fathom a world devoid of creative expression and strives to create something every trial of his life, either by hand or by mind. Despite his outward appearance, Bartholomew does not consider himself a hard man. He is quick to laugh and eager to share his thoughts with those who share similar interests. At the same time, growing up in a child of Quacia has indoctrinated him to a singular view of the world. He makes every effort to prevent his personal pursuits to taint his faith in the Wounded God, so he knows to be cautious, even downright hostile to anything that might and try to infringe upon that.
History
Bartholomew Strife, first born son on the eighth attempt, lived in a two-room hovel Shanty with his mother, Gertrude, and her seven daughters. His father, Ezekiel, disappeared shortly after his birth, leaving behind his father's father's mace and his aptly-chosen surname to the squalling babe in typical Strife fashion. Perhaps that was just the norm among Strife men, to plant and plant until a son is begotten and then leave the heir to his infant inheritance. Cursed with a multitude of mouths to feed, Bartholomew's mother sold herself to strangers who frequented Lair. His sisters, one by one, followed in her footsteps as they too came of age, until the child now-turned-man was alone once more. Oh, his sisters were still out there, along with bastard children aplenty, but for all intents and purposes young Strife felt alone in this world. And he seemed okay with that.
Much of his adult life passed Bartholomew by without a second glance, marked by a series of menial jobs that allowed for little upward progression in Quacia's hierarchy. Yet, he was content. His faith in The Wounded God never wavered over the arcs, as the scars that marred his body could attest to. His imagination and creativity never suffered hindrance by depression or hopelessness. Had Ignacious Flounder, practicing mortician and head Necromancer, not intervened in his life in his forty-second arc, Bartholomew probably would have lived his entire life happy and complacent with his status. Fate and the aforementioned Mister Flounder, however, saw potential in Strife and sought to offer him a new medium to experiment with. Bartholomew accepted the opportunity and accepted the Spark of Necromancy, as well as an assistant position in Ignacious' budding sell-spell enterprise.
For the next three years, Bartholomew was content as a mere assistant to Ignacious. His own development in the domain was slow; he was happy to be a witness to the growth of his mentor. That stasis, however, was slowly changing. Flounder's ambition was expanding to the point that it was becoming necessary for Bartholomew to do more than menial labor. It was time for him to master this chose art-form. And, perhaps, address the recurring dream he kept having night after night.
One where he walked in a world full of his greatest creations.
Skill Name | Tally | Competence | |
| Combat, Axes & Bludgeons (Spiked Mace) | 25/250 | Novice | |
| Cryptography | 5/250 | Novice | |
| Design (City Planning) | 5/250 | Novice | |
| Discipline | 2/250 | Novice | |
| Endurance | 2/250 | Novice | |
| Musical Instrument: Piano | 5/100 | Novice | |
| Psychology | 5/250 | Novice | |
| Research | 5/250 | Novice | |
| Writing | 10/250 | Novice | |
| Arcana: Necromancy (BoneSong) | 17/250 | Novice |
Skill Ledger
► Show Spoiler
Knowledges: Idalos
Knowledges: Skills
Knowledges: Arcana
Funds
100 GN
Worldly Possessions
Ledger
► Show Spoiler
Renown
► Show Spoiler
Thread List
