Duril Vy'Dajal

[Duril]

Duril Vy'Dajal

The Blind Warrior

Race: Biqaj
Date of Birth: 23rd Ashan, 694
Age: 31 Arcs old
Languages: Common (Fluent), Rakahi (Broken)

[Duril]

Personality

"Arrogance is weakness. Nobility is strength."

A man of honor and nobility, Duril was humbled when a Master hone mage blinded him, his once-refined blade skills being set back entirely by his new affliction. After this event Duril changed from a young and arrogant man to one of respect, honor and integrity. Disciplining himself over time before eventually being initiated into Attunement - working to earn his sight back. Every challenge Duril approaches now is done with respect for the opponent, be it a person or an obstacle.

Many in his position would view his blindness as a weakness. But to Duril, it is a strength. For the world will always underestimate him, no matter how powerful he becomes.

Appearance

"I was blinded by ignorance. Never again."

Standing at 5'10", Duril is a lean and fast figure, his muscle more attuned for fast athletics as opposed to heavy lifting. Small scars and wounds of battle litter his body, but none are more prominent than the whiteness of his eyes, a mark of the blinding that changed his life forever. The Biqaj's hair remains tied back in a ponytail, always keeping his face visible, showing no shame or regret for what blinded him. Outside of this, Duril often wears longer robes and lighter clothing, allowing for free movement and comfortable yet practical attire.

[Duril]

History - Pre-blindness

"I was but an arrogant boy..."

As a young boy, Duril grew up in the Vy'Dajal clan, the Weavers of Air travelling from place to place and settling down wherever the winds took them. Earning this nickname because of their majesty and proficiency with wind instruments, and the Defiance that a select few trained with, often favoring air for it's fluidity and beauty. It was far from a widespread thing, of course, only select members of the clan being initiated or even showing an interest in magic. But from a young age Duril was exposed to the wonders of magic and the ways in which it could help the clan and others around. Initially in life, however, it held little to no interest to him. Those who were trained as warriors in the tribe, including his father, were the people Duril looked up to.

As such, he often sailed out with his father and learned to fight as they did so, travelling from place to place in order to trade for money, making a living off of the produce they farmed and the wooden instruments and carvings they made. Most days Duril learned to spar with a blade, initially being given one carved out of wood so he could practice safely and without harm, but as his childhood passed mostly uneventfully he grew into a competent fighter. In his teen years, however, Duril found himself yearning for freedom. Sailing across the seas with his family had given him a taste of what life could be like some day, travelling alone and seeing the world. By his sixteenth birth trial, Duril brought the idea forward to his parents, expecting resistance.

Yet they embraced the idea warmly.

Telling him to wait so they could see him prepared for the world, Duril did as they asked - afraid it was a tactic to stall for time. Yet after some weeks, returning from a trade voyage, Duril found himself presented with belongings he would need. A blade, curved in the style of his fathers and sharpened well. Robes of his tribe, so that he could always dress as if he were home. Most prominently, however, was a wooden instrument. Well-made by his mother's own hands, a Pan Flute of incredible quality with small markings to remind him of home. Combined with his cut of the wealth from the past few trades, Duril was armed with enough to travel the world safely, and with an emotional farewell Duril asked where he could return to find his family, his father telling him to wait at the trade-docks of Rharne if he ever needed to find them again.

Then the boy set off. Many cities were a part of his journey, and as years went by Duril became familiar with plenty, refining his use of the blade as he went - both in training and when attacked. The roads were perilous, and his blade was trained on many bandits or vicious wildlife as needed. Each city had it's own unique things to offer, ranging from the beautiful wilderness of Melrath to the incredible people of Rharne, everywhere had their own traits and uniqueness that Duril enjoyed seeing. Yet as he travelled and met others, making a name for himself among people who saw him often on his return visits, he found himself seeking something more. Somewhere his talents would be better used as a Mercenary, able to learn how to fight better and train harder.

At the age of 21 Arcs, Duril was finally told of Yaralon by a fellow Mercenary he had worked with countless times. The man had never been, but had been told of the place by his superiors, told of the journey one must take to get there. Perilous, dangerous, but rewarding in a way that most other places were not. There wasn't a moment of hesitation in Duril's mind. Almost immediately, Duril set out for Yaralon, travelling to this strange secretive place with his companion at his side. The pair travelled by sea, sailing with just the two of them on a small Sloop, hoping to find themselves in Yaralon. While the journey was long and the two tackled a wide mix of weather conditions, eventually, they saw a port of an unknown city.

It was upon that arrival that they were granted their Silver Circles, Duril choosing to have his on his shoulder, easily shown with the robes he wore. They had found the city of Yaralon together. It was there that the pair set out to explore, finding places to stay for the night while seeing what the city had to offer, such as the Honey Springs Bathhouse and the various mercenary companies.

Settling in Yaralon for years, Duril found himself working alongside a large number of mercenaries on various missions and tasks, finding a home for himself. Many missions went by with little to no issue and the man found himself living the life he could have only dreamed of when he was young. Years passed, and all missions went well, Duril enjoying a life of comfort and fulfilment in Yaralon. But as his ability with a blade grew, so too did his arrogance, believing that him and his company were near-untouchable. A point that was soon disproven.

When a powerful mage was said to be terrorising the outskirts of Yaralon a large array of people rallied to help defend the city, for fear of what a mage that powerful could do. Duril joined the effort with nothing more than his blade and determination, believing himself to be prepared for whatever challenge may be ahead, even with his prior experience of magic. The group rode out together in search of this rogue mage, and eventually Duril' and a squad of around ten others found her.

Hair turned pale white and eyes a deep red, the cracks through her skin were met with the violent manic laughs that echoed from her as she backed up into the woods, leaning on a tree as she told the men they made a mistake coming here. Yet the mercenaries pushed forward, unaware of the runes below their feet. In what felt like a blink a wave of exhaustion was sent through a cluster of the mercenaries. Many of them dropped immediately, overwhelming weakness and fatigue coursing through their entire bodies as the woman howled laughing, her own body covered in Runes that seemed carved into her skin. Whatever madness this woman had lost herself to, Duril seemed determined to stop her.

As half the group was knocked in one move the other five seemed to hesitate, but they knew they couldn't leave her alive. Yet as one of the men drew a bow to prepare to strike the woman swiftly grabbed a blade, launching it forward and hitting the man directly with it, moving faster than anything Duril had seen before, the runes on her body empowering her to unnatural degrees. As soon as the blade collided with the man it was like his own strength was sapped too, the rune dropping him to his knees as he fought the urge to collapse, bow tumbling aside. Even as the next few mercenaries, Duril included, got closer they were met with fierce competition. More daggers launched and cut down two skilled mercenaries effortlessly, Duril's heart racing in his chest. But he had to do this. Had to prove that he was as good as he believed himself to be.

One by one, Mercenaries fell, the wicked laughter of the Hone mage echoing further as Duril stood against her, the last of the mercenaries on his feet, sweat pouring down his forehead as she clutched two blades. "Silly little man with his silly little sword thinks he can kill us" her voice hissed, the deep red runes on her arms flowing with wicked energy. Yet Duril stood as calm as he could be, blade in his hand as he stood prepared to fight. "Does the silly fool believe he has hope? Does he think he can stop us? Very well. We will show him. Show him he is wrong."

"And we will make it hurt."

As Duril swung forward the next blade that hit him cut not to kill, but to wound, slicing through his thigh with speed he simply couldn't match. Then a Rune, weakening his right arm as a blade cut it, making him drop his sword as he was unable to defend himself before a swift kick knocked him to the floor, the mage twirling daggers excitedly in her hands. Yet before she could strike the killing blow the sound of other horses approached, a larger band of mercenaries arriving with weapons ready, hearing the commotion and sounds of manic laughter from a small road away. The mage had lost, surrounded on all sides and with little to no ether left to cast.

But she would not go quietly.

As she rushed forward for Duril she placed both hands on the side of his face, putting all her Ether and more into a Rune of Night, causing her to overstep immediately. As her own runes scorched her skin and her body burned up, as well as two arrows planted into her body, Duril felt the vision leave him as a small scorching pain surged through him. Everything went dark, his sight gone - never returning. Mercenaries came and dragged him back to camp, helping him walk and bandaging his injuries, riding back to Yaralon. Others were saved, while those who had died were brought back to be honored and buried. But as time went by nothing changed, his blindness never fading.

History - Pre-magic

"...Now, an honorable man"

Duril's friend came to him in his room, having heard what happened and immediately embraced the man, relieved to see he was alive. But the Biqaj was far from happy for what had happened to his life. All of his aspirations and dreams were crushed, his blindness an affliction that left him unable to function in general, much less function as a Mercenary. So he asked his friend for help to return home, to sail with him to Rharne where he would hope to find his families trade some day. Without hesitation the man agreed and the two set sail, Duril unable to help on the boat and simply sat in darkness, silent and distraught.

In Rharne, the two found the dock in question and Duril was led to the harbor where they asked about his family, learning that in just five days Duril's family were due to delivery there early in the sunrise. Duril had a room bought for him, his friend only one room over, and the pair waited. Yet on each day Duril didn't want to leave his room, isolating himself further, only sharing brief words with his friend. He felt angry, angry at himself for letting such a simple moment of arrogance ruin the rest of his life.

After those five days the pair waited on the dock, where Duril heard his friend announce that a boat was coming in. There, after over ten years, did he reunite again with his father. Initially, the man jumped off the boat and did a double take, looking to his son with initial excitement. Yet at the look on Duril's face it changed. As he approached and placed a hand on his son's face he saw the whitened eyes, asking him what happened before thanking his friend for bringing him here safely. Even in his sadness, as his friend prepared to leave Duril turned back to him for a moment and outstretched a hand blindly, the man meeting it and the two locking arms for a moment.

"Thank you, my friend. Live well."

The two pulled into a hug for a moment, before finally separating and Duril returning to the ship with his father, where he explained what happened in as much detail as he could. Even without his sight he could hear the breathing changes in his father, feel the stare that came over him. After a second of silence Duril admitted his arrogance, admitted that he deserved what had happened and had caused it all himself. Duril's father simply paused, placing a hand on his son's shoulder before reassuring him that it was a mistake, a stupid one, but that life was best learned through them. That his blindness was, as of now, his weakness. But perhaps some day, with the right help, could become his strength.

His arrival back to his family was met with open arms, yet as each were informed of what happened they were cautious and gave him much space, aside from his mother who showered him with her warm embrace and assured him it would be okay. When Duril asked how it was supposed to be okay, shaking his head and saying he had ruined his chance at a life he wanted forever, his mother placed a hand on his chin and held it tight for a moment. "You will not succumb to this weakness, we raised you better than that. You will adapt to it, learn to live with it, and one day? Learn to weaponize it. Make it your strength. Use it to benefit your life rather than allow it to ruin it."

It was then, later that night, they revealed the plan they held. One of the members of the clan was versed in Attunement, a magic capable of opening a sixth sense of sorts, allowing one to greater understand the world. But beyond that, it allowed him to see with his eyes closed, understand and become aware of his surroundings even without sight. With the right patience, Duril could learn the same magic, embrace the spark and accept his new life - learn to see without sight.

For a moment Duril paused.

In the moment he agreed to it, he vowed also to learn beyond the magic, but to learn from his errors. To abandon his arrogance and ignorance and do better with himself. Not abandon his goals of fighting, but learn to fight with purpose and respect, to put his skills to a good cause not flaunt them like he had something to prove. At that, his father and mother placed hands on his shoulders and the family embraced. It wouldn't be an easy road ahead, but he would walk it, no matter what.

Before he was initiated, the mage of his clan met Duril first. He was an elder Biqaj, Karim, who first examined Duril and asked his much about his journeys. Then, he insisted the two meditate together. Days went by of the same trials, meditating with one another followed by strings of questions, as if the Elder was sizing him up and ensuring he was ready for such a responsibility. Yet Duril had no idea what sort of initiation was ahead, and why it was important he was at peace and ready.

Weeks of this training continued, but Duril never once complained, accepting the help for what it was. Smaller steps were made, meditating for longer periods, practicing walking blind, balancing and other such acts until eventually Karim said it was time. Then, the two walked away from the group, ensuring they were alone and undisturbed and the initiation begun. Singing, humming was the first Duril felt and heard. Then more. Violent pain and agonizing melodies fused with the beautiful sensation of the songs around him. But Duril endured. What other choice did he have but to endure?

Eventually, after the most painful experience of his life, Duril found himself attuned to the world around him.

Post-magic

"With more space to grow."

With the attunement at his side Duril continued his training with Karim for a long time, working with the old man to improve his awareness, first attuning to himself and learning to mask his frequency with static, then learning how to track other attuned frequencies with compass. Only people seemed easy enough to track or attune to in general, yet he found himself able to do so, attuning to each note and melody and finding new awareness for his clanmates. Eventually, after months of hard training and work, he found his senses more aware and attuned and suddenly?

He could see.

It was far from the true sight he'd live with in his life. But he was aware of all around him. The people that stood around, the branches and the way they rustled, leaves below his feet. Even behind himself where his eyes could not have seen, he was aware of the footsteps walking behind him, the people all around. In the moment he first started to feel it Duril dropped to his knees for a moment, body weak as he felt a tidal wave of gratitude and relief wash over him. The world was beautiful in it's own way through attunement, and he could see it once more.

As time progressed and Duril had learned to grow comfortable with attunement he was next initiated into Defiance by Karim, only just beginning to learn how to weave the elements before Karim began to fall ill. Duril sat at his bedside day in and out, the two exchanging words and laughs every trial before Duril left to train alone, balancing on beams and practicing swordplay with his newfound sight. He wasn't as good as he used to be, but he was capable, able to swing a blade without nearly removing his own limbs in the process.

Eventually, Karim passed peacefully in the night.

Having left a small note to Duril, the Biqaj had what was written read out to him.

'My student,

Whatever man you were leaving this camp last, you are no longer. While my body decays, I can rest now knowing my spirit lives on in you. Carry my teachings and evolve them into your own. I trust you can learn to master your Defiance, even without my guidance now.

Continue to make me proud. For while you lost your sight once, you have gained a new one all the same, one far greater than whatever it was you saw prior. I trust you will use it well.

Karim.'

For the first time in many years Duril found tears pouring down his cheeks as he heard the words of his mentor. But in the same moment, a swell of duty burned in his heart. A duty to honor Karim, to live the new life he had been given and thrive with his second chance, and to become a better man than he had ever been before. So he set out to do so. With a proper farewell to his family now, Duril embraced them both, informing them he would be travelling to Scalvoris in order to broaden his horizons. Word had spread across the islands of many heroes of Scalvoris, many famous names that flocked there and helped protect the island and it's people that had once been ruled by pirates. There, he believed, he would find his purpose.

With the information of his location clear, and his family able to find him at any time, Duril set sail with his father once more. The boat took a detour to drop him at Scalvoris, a warm farewell on the docks before he started the search for his new life. Every day he trained the same way he had before, trying to improve and enhance his sight as best he could, living life as a blind man yet learning to live as he had once before. Cooking food for himself, training to fight as he had once prior and practicing his mastery of the Elements as he did so.

It was there he met a strange Cadouri on one of her first night's in Idalos, the small Ram seeming to walk and talk sentiently. The two sat around a fire outside his house for some time in the night, the Cadouri explaining her life to him and where she had come from, Duril explaining the same. The two formed an unlikely friendship that blossomed over time, now his closest friend, often seen spending time together and training with one another.

As of recent years, with his life steadying out, Duril has signed up for the Elements despite his affliction and the difficulty it presents him - wanting to make a real difference to the people of Scalvoris in the wake of all the disaster they have endured.

[Duril]

Belongings

"My blade did not dull with my senses."

Katanas, Average Quality
Wakizashi, Average Quality
Masterwork Leather Armor
Average Quality Clothing (Casualwear, Robes for training, Formalwear, Sleepwear)
Good quality Pan-Flute (Heirloom)

Housing

"Home. At last."

Living in Scalvoris Town, Duril has a standard house. The place is usually kept clean to avoid any trip hazards and as a part of his disciplined life. The furniture is basic but functional. All that is of note is a small rug on the ground with small detailings, designed for him to kneel on when he prays or meditates.

[Duril]

Mutations

"My body, a canvas. My mind, the artist"

Witchmark (Defiance) - A constant small breeze seems to linger around Duril wherever he goes, even on a totally still day.