Blue
04-01-06, 09:28 AM
Name: Abrahm Spiritsong
Age: 16
Race: Human
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Height: 5'10
Weight: 140
Occupation: Minstrel
Personality:
The dominating trait in Abrahm is his kindness. He tries to be polite when at all possible, but he is 16, and still has much to learn. Outgoing and calm, Abrahm is not afraid of taking on a challenge once in a while. Always anxious to show his good sense of humor and his friendliness, while he may be a little quiet at first, he will quickly open up to anyone willing to talk. This may be a good thing or a bad thing. You see, Abrahm is not a good judge of character. It is sometimes challenging for him to tell the difference between someone who might mean to harm him and someone who is to be trusted. That is, someone who does not make it plainly obvious.
In addition to being a poor judge of character, Abrahm is also very trusting. Any random fool off the street could easily tell him they were too low on money and they needed to feed their family, and Abrahm would often times give it to him, asking if it was enough. Unfortunately, this has gotten him into quite a situation or two when he has been a little too trusting towards a few folks that did not deserve the courtesy. He is easily taken advantage of.
Finally, Abrahm's passion is music. He believes life is like a melody, beautiful and something to be cherished. Not much more can be said for this love, other than the fact that he gained his love from his foster father's teaching of the elves and their use of this magic.
Appearance:
The minstrel's face is calm and soothing. His eyelids even seem as if they are on the brink of closing at any minute. To put it simply, Abrahm looks as if he is constantly close to a state of drowsiness. However, do not let that fool you, for he will be ready to pounce into action at a moment's notice. A few little cuts dot his face, but nothing that sticks out as being entirely noticeable. In fact, his entire body has nothing special aside from perhaps the tiny birthmark on the back of his neck.
The large brown mess that covers Abrahm's head may be referred to as his hair. It is obvious that little has been done to style it other than letting the wind do it's job. It goes with Abrahm's face well, however, matching the calm and carefree look that he always seems to have plastered across it.
Abrahm's body is thin and slender, showing that he was never really spoiled as a child. His arms are the home to many bruises and bumps, battle scars over his muscles. Not extraordinarily tall, Abrahm still considers himself to be decent height for his age.
The bard's attire consists of little more than a shoddy brown vest made from dirty hides he had sewn together himself. To his dislike, it does not cover his midsection and offers poor protection from the elements. Under the vest is a thin veil of a shirt, which is practically see-through (if one can see past all the dirt that covers it). The shirt seems to be cut at the arms, but one cannot tell under the sleeves of the vest. Separating his torso from his lower body is a thin brown belt that holds a scabbard loosely in the back. Loose, baggy pants then cover his legs down to the shoddy old boots that he acquired through a bit of gambling. Various rips can be seen in the pants, but none are too revealing.
Finally, a long strap runs across his chest. It ties his best friend, his lute, to him so that it is easily accessible for churning out a tune or two occasionally.
History:
True heroes are not born, they are made. At least that was what Abrahm had always believed. The young spellsong believes heavily in the legends that are passed by mouth down through generations. He loves hearing stories of fabled heroes, demonic villains, and monstrous dragons. Without them, his life would not be nearly as interesting.
Abrahm grew up under the tutelage of his foster father, of whom had already lost a son of his own. All he really knew of the man whom he owed his life to was that he was fairly proficient in magic, scrolls, and adventuring. From what he understood, the man had once been an adventurer himself, leading conquests against undead foes, battling vampires, and occasionally meeting his fair share of maidens. Of course, this was all speculation on Abrahm's part.
He had been raised to love elvish arts and magics. His favorite of these was the ability of some creatures to form magic from music. The thought was intriguing, and seemed much more interesting then studying dirty tomes or learning about what was the proper way to conjure a pale of water. There was much more behind magic then simply books and quills, letters and runes. This was what made him wish to pursue learning the art of music, and allowed him to craft his own lute. He wished to tell the tales of those who were heroic and use his songs to help others with their own goals. He wanted to be a role model for all who should come after him.
However, his father knew better. He had traversed the lands of Althanas and he knew what it took, how much mettle one must have- not to mention some skill in fencing. When he was younger, he had been a bit more proficient with a blade, but times had changed, and he had only been able to teach Abrahm a few basic thrusting techniques. Unfortunately, the old man knew a day would come when his adopted son would have no choice but learn more of the world and what it had to offer.
The day came quicker than he imagined, however, when the quaint village they'd taken shelter in (in the northern regions of Corone) came under attack by a goblin horde. The small hideaway was ransacked, and the two were forced to run. The blood spilled that day was unlike anything Abrahm had seen before. Watching the man he had thought was peaceful and benign tearing through his enemies was utterly amazing.
Soon they had made it away from their demolished home and were traveling, hoping to find a more peaceful place. However, fate had other plans. As they were trying to traverse a broken down old road that seemed as though it once was very well-traveled, they were ambushed by a few gnolls. Though they were able to fight them off, Abrahm's foster father had become seriously injured. Little was said to the boy besides that the time had come for him to set out on his own, and that his love of music should never die.
Tearfully wishing he could give his 'father' a proper burial, Abrahm simply covered him the best he could with twigs and dirt and said a silent prayer for him. Destiny had placed him in a position which he was not ready for, though it looked as though he no longer had a choice. He now had the chance to pursue his life as a minstrel and make his dreams a reality. The only problem was where to start.
Since that fateful day, Abrahm has traveled a bit and his toned his muscles some. He continues to work on improving his musical magic and is never afraid to weave a tale or two for a weary traveler. It was his way of keeping the legacy of those who perished.
"Soon...soon, I will be a hero to speak of in song."
Skills:
Fencing- Abrahm has some minor skill in fencing, what his father was able to teach him. He can parry and attack, but has no form or stance. He mostly goes on instinct and knows little about the rules. Anyone who was trained more professionally or has been using a rapier longer than three years would easily be able to best him.
Granite's Strength- Those around Abrahm receive a small boost to their strength for the duration of the song and are able to perhaps swing their weapons a little bit faster or maybe move an object that might be just a little to heavy for a normal person. Unfortunately, since the song is not refined, it boosts Abrahm's enemies abilities as well, so it is not very useful in combat situations. This song is fast, and as such takes a few minutes (three of my own posts) before Abrahm regains the breath to sing it again.
Angel's Kiss- A minor healing melody that can cure bruises or minor cuts. It is a slow song, and as such takes the full duration of the song for the bruises to disappear or the cuts to fully mend. This song requires some of Abrahm's own magic, and as such is a bit taxing. It requires quite a few minutes before it may be sung once again (five of my own posts.)
(OOC: All songs have a duration of two of my posts.)
Equipment:
Weapons- Dirty old steel rapier, blood stains from battles even before he had obtained it and look as though each clash of steel could be it's last. The weapon shows that it might have once held beauty, but after many years is little more than an artifact. However, it was his foster father's, so he keeps it with him as a slight reminder of what he hopes to become.
Armor- Abrahm's shoddy old vest acts as his best form of protection, though it would do little to stop any form of attack, be it magical or a simple rock being thrown. It is light and flexible however, decent for fencing.
Other items- Abrahm's wooden lute (oak) that looks as though it has been plucked quite a few times. It is of no special quality or purpose, other than that it allows him to use his magical songs. He also has a few pouches attached to his belt, but they serve little purpose except for storage and hold nothing currently.
Age: 16
Race: Human
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Height: 5'10
Weight: 140
Occupation: Minstrel
Personality:
The dominating trait in Abrahm is his kindness. He tries to be polite when at all possible, but he is 16, and still has much to learn. Outgoing and calm, Abrahm is not afraid of taking on a challenge once in a while. Always anxious to show his good sense of humor and his friendliness, while he may be a little quiet at first, he will quickly open up to anyone willing to talk. This may be a good thing or a bad thing. You see, Abrahm is not a good judge of character. It is sometimes challenging for him to tell the difference between someone who might mean to harm him and someone who is to be trusted. That is, someone who does not make it plainly obvious.
In addition to being a poor judge of character, Abrahm is also very trusting. Any random fool off the street could easily tell him they were too low on money and they needed to feed their family, and Abrahm would often times give it to him, asking if it was enough. Unfortunately, this has gotten him into quite a situation or two when he has been a little too trusting towards a few folks that did not deserve the courtesy. He is easily taken advantage of.
Finally, Abrahm's passion is music. He believes life is like a melody, beautiful and something to be cherished. Not much more can be said for this love, other than the fact that he gained his love from his foster father's teaching of the elves and their use of this magic.
Appearance:
The minstrel's face is calm and soothing. His eyelids even seem as if they are on the brink of closing at any minute. To put it simply, Abrahm looks as if he is constantly close to a state of drowsiness. However, do not let that fool you, for he will be ready to pounce into action at a moment's notice. A few little cuts dot his face, but nothing that sticks out as being entirely noticeable. In fact, his entire body has nothing special aside from perhaps the tiny birthmark on the back of his neck.
The large brown mess that covers Abrahm's head may be referred to as his hair. It is obvious that little has been done to style it other than letting the wind do it's job. It goes with Abrahm's face well, however, matching the calm and carefree look that he always seems to have plastered across it.
Abrahm's body is thin and slender, showing that he was never really spoiled as a child. His arms are the home to many bruises and bumps, battle scars over his muscles. Not extraordinarily tall, Abrahm still considers himself to be decent height for his age.
The bard's attire consists of little more than a shoddy brown vest made from dirty hides he had sewn together himself. To his dislike, it does not cover his midsection and offers poor protection from the elements. Under the vest is a thin veil of a shirt, which is practically see-through (if one can see past all the dirt that covers it). The shirt seems to be cut at the arms, but one cannot tell under the sleeves of the vest. Separating his torso from his lower body is a thin brown belt that holds a scabbard loosely in the back. Loose, baggy pants then cover his legs down to the shoddy old boots that he acquired through a bit of gambling. Various rips can be seen in the pants, but none are too revealing.
Finally, a long strap runs across his chest. It ties his best friend, his lute, to him so that it is easily accessible for churning out a tune or two occasionally.
History:
True heroes are not born, they are made. At least that was what Abrahm had always believed. The young spellsong believes heavily in the legends that are passed by mouth down through generations. He loves hearing stories of fabled heroes, demonic villains, and monstrous dragons. Without them, his life would not be nearly as interesting.
Abrahm grew up under the tutelage of his foster father, of whom had already lost a son of his own. All he really knew of the man whom he owed his life to was that he was fairly proficient in magic, scrolls, and adventuring. From what he understood, the man had once been an adventurer himself, leading conquests against undead foes, battling vampires, and occasionally meeting his fair share of maidens. Of course, this was all speculation on Abrahm's part.
He had been raised to love elvish arts and magics. His favorite of these was the ability of some creatures to form magic from music. The thought was intriguing, and seemed much more interesting then studying dirty tomes or learning about what was the proper way to conjure a pale of water. There was much more behind magic then simply books and quills, letters and runes. This was what made him wish to pursue learning the art of music, and allowed him to craft his own lute. He wished to tell the tales of those who were heroic and use his songs to help others with their own goals. He wanted to be a role model for all who should come after him.
However, his father knew better. He had traversed the lands of Althanas and he knew what it took, how much mettle one must have- not to mention some skill in fencing. When he was younger, he had been a bit more proficient with a blade, but times had changed, and he had only been able to teach Abrahm a few basic thrusting techniques. Unfortunately, the old man knew a day would come when his adopted son would have no choice but learn more of the world and what it had to offer.
The day came quicker than he imagined, however, when the quaint village they'd taken shelter in (in the northern regions of Corone) came under attack by a goblin horde. The small hideaway was ransacked, and the two were forced to run. The blood spilled that day was unlike anything Abrahm had seen before. Watching the man he had thought was peaceful and benign tearing through his enemies was utterly amazing.
Soon they had made it away from their demolished home and were traveling, hoping to find a more peaceful place. However, fate had other plans. As they were trying to traverse a broken down old road that seemed as though it once was very well-traveled, they were ambushed by a few gnolls. Though they were able to fight them off, Abrahm's foster father had become seriously injured. Little was said to the boy besides that the time had come for him to set out on his own, and that his love of music should never die.
Tearfully wishing he could give his 'father' a proper burial, Abrahm simply covered him the best he could with twigs and dirt and said a silent prayer for him. Destiny had placed him in a position which he was not ready for, though it looked as though he no longer had a choice. He now had the chance to pursue his life as a minstrel and make his dreams a reality. The only problem was where to start.
Since that fateful day, Abrahm has traveled a bit and his toned his muscles some. He continues to work on improving his musical magic and is never afraid to weave a tale or two for a weary traveler. It was his way of keeping the legacy of those who perished.
"Soon...soon, I will be a hero to speak of in song."
Skills:
Fencing- Abrahm has some minor skill in fencing, what his father was able to teach him. He can parry and attack, but has no form or stance. He mostly goes on instinct and knows little about the rules. Anyone who was trained more professionally or has been using a rapier longer than three years would easily be able to best him.
Granite's Strength- Those around Abrahm receive a small boost to their strength for the duration of the song and are able to perhaps swing their weapons a little bit faster or maybe move an object that might be just a little to heavy for a normal person. Unfortunately, since the song is not refined, it boosts Abrahm's enemies abilities as well, so it is not very useful in combat situations. This song is fast, and as such takes a few minutes (three of my own posts) before Abrahm regains the breath to sing it again.
Angel's Kiss- A minor healing melody that can cure bruises or minor cuts. It is a slow song, and as such takes the full duration of the song for the bruises to disappear or the cuts to fully mend. This song requires some of Abrahm's own magic, and as such is a bit taxing. It requires quite a few minutes before it may be sung once again (five of my own posts.)
(OOC: All songs have a duration of two of my posts.)
Equipment:
Weapons- Dirty old steel rapier, blood stains from battles even before he had obtained it and look as though each clash of steel could be it's last. The weapon shows that it might have once held beauty, but after many years is little more than an artifact. However, it was his foster father's, so he keeps it with him as a slight reminder of what he hopes to become.
Armor- Abrahm's shoddy old vest acts as his best form of protection, though it would do little to stop any form of attack, be it magical or a simple rock being thrown. It is light and flexible however, decent for fencing.
Other items- Abrahm's wooden lute (oak) that looks as though it has been plucked quite a few times. It is of no special quality or purpose, other than that it allows him to use his magical songs. He also has a few pouches attached to his belt, but they serve little purpose except for storage and hold nothing currently.