Air Man
06-08-10, 04:42 PM
Main Character
Deacon Sheppard
23 years old
Brown hair, brown eyes
6'2" tall, 195 lbs
Wears a simple wardrobe of white shirts and brown leather trousers tucked into brown leather boots.
Weapons
- Steel Axe
- Yew longbow, 20 arrows
Skills
- Profession: Carpentry. Can build and design functional furnishings and small wood dwellings. His style is simple and brings in a meager income. Not well known at all for his furnishings.
- Bow hunting: Above average marksman, as he has hunted for his family's food since he was a child. Can hit a deer-sized moving target from 50 yards.
- Woodsmanship: Doesn't get lost easily in wooded areas, and can move silently through brush, though not very quickly.
NPC
Isaac Sheppard
22 years old
Brown hair, brown eyes
6'0" tall, 160 lbs
Wears a deep grey robe over a simple undyed/unbleached tunic and grey trousers. Brown leather boots, adorned with small green amulets
Instruments
- Long oak staff, carved with runes and adorned with multi-tinted crystals.
- Silver ceremonial dagger kept in a soft leather sheath, latched to his arm.
Spells
- Fire - Creates a fist sized flame that burns for 30 seconds. Can be thrown, and can ignite flammable materials.
- Find - Uses the crystals on his staff to scrye the direction of an object or person.
- Shield - Can create a crystalline ghost wall to protect against physical attack. Upon blocking, it shatters.
History
"Brother!" Deacon called as he saw the figure make it's way past the old fencing and across the yard to the small shack. It was a tiny building, a pitiful wooden excuse for the house that used to stand there. Isaac looked up, his eyes scanning over it before he turned to his brother. A smile spread across his face, and he waved.
"I didn't expect you to get rid of the house," he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. It had been a long walk from the port. His eyes watched Deacon's, waiting for them to waver. It was a hard thing to bring up, but one that couldn't be denied, the heaviness of it looming as tall as the smoke that spindled out of the poorly stacked stone chimney.
"The doctor said I had to," Deacon said. His gruff voice had gone quiet, and Isaac stumbled. He knew his brother well, and his resistance to authority. If he had listened to the doctor... then it must have been serious.
Their parents had built the house when the boys were both toddlers, too young for them to now remember any other life than the one within the welcoming threshold. Home turned to hell only a few years before, when their parents began to take ill, eventually withering away before their eyes.
Isaac had already started to study magic, learning the ways of the mysterious powers that began to emerge in his youth, though try as he might, he never learned the spell to make them better. Mother had died, and their father was quickly following her when Isaac left for the mainland, where he could learn song magic, where he might unlock the secret to keeping sickness at bay. Deacon knew losing people was hard on his brother, his eyes never the same once they buried their mother. When he said goodbye to his brother, he hoped that Raiaera would take care for such fragile feelings.
Deacon went on alone to care for Father until he passed, and ripped the house down with his hands, burning everything to keep the sickness from spreading. Through it all, ever cough or sneeze caused him to cringe, hoping that he wouldn't be yet another person that Isaac had to lose. He built a home for he and his brother, small rooms with strong walls, built in bookcases to hold his brothers tomes. Then he waited, until Isaac finished his studies and came home.
Isaac had always been smaller, weaker, somehow easier to hurt his feelings. But here, on this land that they had grown up on, Deacon could protect him. Nothing bad would happen this time.
~~<ooo>~~
"Brother!" Deacon called as he came in the house. Over one shoulder was a boar, one of the man's arrow shafts still barely protruding from a bloody wound. He found Isaac in his room, reclining on the bed as he studied the runes in a slim leather-bound volume.
"Successful hunt?" the mage asked, looking up and moving his long locks of hair out of his face.
"Even better!" he laughed, tossing two cards onto the foot of the bed before turning around and moving to string up the hog on the front porch. A few moments later, he heard the scurry and scuffle of his brother stumbling off the bed and through the house.
"A ball!? You don't really believe that I'm going to fall for such a prank do you? I thought you'd grown up from these things..."
"It's no joke," Deacon said, cutting and pulling apart the meat while blood dripped and splattered at his feet. "The Princess was out in the forest today, collecting wildflowers with the court. They got attacked by this boar, but I shot it. I was tracking it anyway....and then they gave me these invitations in thanks."
Isaac stayed quiet, looking at the careful, drifting script on the paper. The ink was faded, but if it was a last minute invitation, that would make sense. Everyone of noble heritage would have gotten their letters weeks ago. He sighed, and then looked back at his brother. His clothes were stained where he had lifted the pig and brought it home, his boots filthy and his pants stained where he had been crouching in the forest, tracking their meal. Old study robes weren't much better, and they couldn't go to the summer house of the royal family looking like such commoners.
"It was just kindness," he started, speaking quietly. "We'd be an eyesore."
"Pretty rich women, looking to dance, and even if it was just kindness, they made the mistake to invite us," Deacon grunted before giving his brother a wink. "We'll stay home if you're wanting to live with me for the rest of your life. I guess I wouldn't blame you, but the Goddess might frown on.."
"We're going." Isaac interuppted, a sour look on his face. "Leave it to bleed out, and we'll go see the tailor. I'll get the money..."
Deacon stumbled, "Wait, that's the money for you to go back to Raiaera with!" he protested, following Isaac inside. "They invited me covered in muck, we can go like that."
"Then we really won't find any women to marry us." Isaac grumbled. "I'd rather have to stay around here and work a bit longer before going back to school than seeing the princess dressed like paupers anyway."
Deacon Sheppard
23 years old
Brown hair, brown eyes
6'2" tall, 195 lbs
Wears a simple wardrobe of white shirts and brown leather trousers tucked into brown leather boots.
Weapons
- Steel Axe
- Yew longbow, 20 arrows
Skills
- Profession: Carpentry. Can build and design functional furnishings and small wood dwellings. His style is simple and brings in a meager income. Not well known at all for his furnishings.
- Bow hunting: Above average marksman, as he has hunted for his family's food since he was a child. Can hit a deer-sized moving target from 50 yards.
- Woodsmanship: Doesn't get lost easily in wooded areas, and can move silently through brush, though not very quickly.
NPC
Isaac Sheppard
22 years old
Brown hair, brown eyes
6'0" tall, 160 lbs
Wears a deep grey robe over a simple undyed/unbleached tunic and grey trousers. Brown leather boots, adorned with small green amulets
Instruments
- Long oak staff, carved with runes and adorned with multi-tinted crystals.
- Silver ceremonial dagger kept in a soft leather sheath, latched to his arm.
Spells
- Fire - Creates a fist sized flame that burns for 30 seconds. Can be thrown, and can ignite flammable materials.
- Find - Uses the crystals on his staff to scrye the direction of an object or person.
- Shield - Can create a crystalline ghost wall to protect against physical attack. Upon blocking, it shatters.
History
"Brother!" Deacon called as he saw the figure make it's way past the old fencing and across the yard to the small shack. It was a tiny building, a pitiful wooden excuse for the house that used to stand there. Isaac looked up, his eyes scanning over it before he turned to his brother. A smile spread across his face, and he waved.
"I didn't expect you to get rid of the house," he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. It had been a long walk from the port. His eyes watched Deacon's, waiting for them to waver. It was a hard thing to bring up, but one that couldn't be denied, the heaviness of it looming as tall as the smoke that spindled out of the poorly stacked stone chimney.
"The doctor said I had to," Deacon said. His gruff voice had gone quiet, and Isaac stumbled. He knew his brother well, and his resistance to authority. If he had listened to the doctor... then it must have been serious.
Their parents had built the house when the boys were both toddlers, too young for them to now remember any other life than the one within the welcoming threshold. Home turned to hell only a few years before, when their parents began to take ill, eventually withering away before their eyes.
Isaac had already started to study magic, learning the ways of the mysterious powers that began to emerge in his youth, though try as he might, he never learned the spell to make them better. Mother had died, and their father was quickly following her when Isaac left for the mainland, where he could learn song magic, where he might unlock the secret to keeping sickness at bay. Deacon knew losing people was hard on his brother, his eyes never the same once they buried their mother. When he said goodbye to his brother, he hoped that Raiaera would take care for such fragile feelings.
Deacon went on alone to care for Father until he passed, and ripped the house down with his hands, burning everything to keep the sickness from spreading. Through it all, ever cough or sneeze caused him to cringe, hoping that he wouldn't be yet another person that Isaac had to lose. He built a home for he and his brother, small rooms with strong walls, built in bookcases to hold his brothers tomes. Then he waited, until Isaac finished his studies and came home.
Isaac had always been smaller, weaker, somehow easier to hurt his feelings. But here, on this land that they had grown up on, Deacon could protect him. Nothing bad would happen this time.
~~<ooo>~~
"Brother!" Deacon called as he came in the house. Over one shoulder was a boar, one of the man's arrow shafts still barely protruding from a bloody wound. He found Isaac in his room, reclining on the bed as he studied the runes in a slim leather-bound volume.
"Successful hunt?" the mage asked, looking up and moving his long locks of hair out of his face.
"Even better!" he laughed, tossing two cards onto the foot of the bed before turning around and moving to string up the hog on the front porch. A few moments later, he heard the scurry and scuffle of his brother stumbling off the bed and through the house.
"A ball!? You don't really believe that I'm going to fall for such a prank do you? I thought you'd grown up from these things..."
"It's no joke," Deacon said, cutting and pulling apart the meat while blood dripped and splattered at his feet. "The Princess was out in the forest today, collecting wildflowers with the court. They got attacked by this boar, but I shot it. I was tracking it anyway....and then they gave me these invitations in thanks."
Isaac stayed quiet, looking at the careful, drifting script on the paper. The ink was faded, but if it was a last minute invitation, that would make sense. Everyone of noble heritage would have gotten their letters weeks ago. He sighed, and then looked back at his brother. His clothes were stained where he had lifted the pig and brought it home, his boots filthy and his pants stained where he had been crouching in the forest, tracking their meal. Old study robes weren't much better, and they couldn't go to the summer house of the royal family looking like such commoners.
"It was just kindness," he started, speaking quietly. "We'd be an eyesore."
"Pretty rich women, looking to dance, and even if it was just kindness, they made the mistake to invite us," Deacon grunted before giving his brother a wink. "We'll stay home if you're wanting to live with me for the rest of your life. I guess I wouldn't blame you, but the Goddess might frown on.."
"We're going." Isaac interuppted, a sour look on his face. "Leave it to bleed out, and we'll go see the tailor. I'll get the money..."
Deacon stumbled, "Wait, that's the money for you to go back to Raiaera with!" he protested, following Isaac inside. "They invited me covered in muck, we can go like that."
"Then we really won't find any women to marry us." Isaac grumbled. "I'd rather have to stay around here and work a bit longer before going back to school than seeing the princess dressed like paupers anyway."