Reytac
12-17-14, 05:47 AM
Name: Harold Linsbaine
Nickname/Alias: Harry, Rune
Age: 24
Race: Human
Height: 5 foot 11 inches
Weight: 215 lbs
Occupation: Former Bookstore owner, Researcher
Personality: Stiff and formal, will hyperfocus on something new or unusual he considers worth researching.
History: Harold’s story was a rollercoaster. His family was a line of British occult fanatics, for a good reason. Their progenitor had made a deal with an ancient daemon, which granted them a bloodline capable of using infernal magics. Fast-forward several generations, to a young redheaded child who was trusting of his family. Harold’s family had a somewhat eccentric uncle, who seemed rather fond of the young boy. Harold spent many weeks at his uncle’s house, learning simple cantrips and of a gentleman’s life.
That changed in the late autumn of Harold’s fourteenth year. Though Harold didn’t know it, it was the night of Samhain, on what would prove to be the cusp of his magical adolescence. His uncle had been rather firm that Harold would spend the night there, as his house was safer for what would come then his parent’s townhouse was. He had a pleasant evening as was typical of visit’s to his uncle’s home, though he did feel a bit sleepier than normal when he’d finished his meal. He made sure to study the last cantrip in the book that his uncle had given him, a simple alarm ward that would send him a jolt of electricity if someone tripped it, something that seemed to amuse his uncle.
Harold went to bed early that night, and before he went to sleep he grinned. His uncle would sometimes come in early in the morning to wake him up, and Harold wanted to surprise him by actually being awake, so he set up the new ward that he’d learned. It took nearly half an hour, during which he got progressively more tired. He managed to get the ward set up before crawling onto his bed, passing out before he even pulled the covers up over himself.
In the middle of the night Harold’s eyes shot open wide, the aftereffects of what felt like licking a battery running down his spine. His eyes swept his room hurriedly, thinking that someone was breaking into his uncle’s house. He froze in place upon seeing a dark-robed figure flowing into the room through the door, which had an eerie red light flickering from the hallway. The figure muttered a word – and Harold was shocked to find that it was his uncle’s voice – and Harold’s body snapped rigid, and slowly began levitating up off the bed.
Minutes passed with Harold floating silent and unmoving behind his uncle, going down hallways that he’d long been forbidden from going through, past statues that made no sense in his uncle’s home. They finally reached a large, blood red door with pitch black lines drawn across it. Harold’s uncle gestured sharply and the door flew open, revealing the source of the unnatural red light that had been present in the hallway. Within the room was a flat table of stone, with what looked like a trough around the outside edge. The table itself was covered in what dark red rust stains. The source of the light though, was the brazier behind the table, which was lit with what looked like red lightning flickering in the shape of a fire.
Harold was lifted onto the table, and the rigor that was holding his body was released. Despite that, he stayed limp, absolutely terrified and confused by the events so far, and by the surroundings he was now in. His uncle seemed to ignore him for the moment, instead walking to the brazier doing something to it, obscuring his actions with his body from Harold’s sight. Whatever the older man was doing, the light suddenly flared brighter, stinging his eyes. He heard his uncle begin chanting in the language he had been teaching Harold cantrips in, though the words themselves were nothing like the ones he knew. Harold’s body froze up for a different reason, terror and an unnatural fear gripping him as his uncle continued chanting.
Harold nearly sat up when a different, deeper, more guttural voice responded to his uncle’s chanting. This one broke the terror that had gripped him at first, sending him into a panicked state. He saw his uncle’s hand move out from his body, brandishing what looked like a jagged shard of black and red metal. That was the final straw for the camel’s back that was Harold’s sanity, and the boy broke and ran, fleeing through the hallways of a place he once felt comfortable in, that now was dark and terrifying. He heard his uncle bite off a curse behind him, and felt something flicker at his feet. He leapt and scrambled around a corner, out of the line of sight of the doorway, and kept running.
Forty five minutes later he was in the woods a fair distance from his uncle’s abode, having never stopped running. He was cut and torn, having thrown himself from a second story window to escape when he saw some of the strange statues patrolling near the stairs. He’d managed to roll when he landed and kept from hurting himself. Now deep in the woods, he was stunned to look back and see his uncle’s house burning, burning to the ground with that same unnatural light that had been in the brazier. He staggered and stumbled away, pushing towards the direction he thought was civilization.
Then more tragedy dropped onto the shattered boy. He’d managed to hitch a ride back to his hometown, only to find firefighters finishing putting out a fire at his parent’s home. He managed to grab a neighbor who recognized him, and the look in the man’s eyes told him the answer before he’d even asked his question. Harold broke down crying right then and there.
Thus began a new stage in his life. The young man left the town where his family had lived, and traveled through several regions. He ended up getting taken in by a stranger who took pity on him, and raised him as much as the broken boy could be raised at that point. He took solace in the stranger’s workplace, which was a bookstore, and retreated into the books. Years passed, and he got an opportunity to move to another town to open a new branch for the bookstore, eventually becoming the owner of that one himself. There were some…. Interesting events that occurred in that town that he lived in. He had abandoned the magic that his family was invested in, having a severe dislike for the infernal after nearly being sacrificed. He had never figured out what his uncle was trying to sacrifice him for, but what he could figure out wasn’t good. But in this town he had been given a new magic by a being he still barely understood, one of Runes. Of course, it had come at a price. He had become a contractor, working to prevent monsters and threats from bleeding over from the world where the being he’d been given his power had come from. The creature had been a mage from that world, going by the name Myrrdin, and the trust and reliability the other spelluser had had given to Harold as his partner had helped deal with the mental trauma of his family’s betrayal. Working together with other contractor pairs, the two mages kept the other from merging with the normal one.
But then things had changed. Something had happened to cut the other world off completely, ripping Harold’s best friend and partner away. Harold had devoted nearly a year, and had discovered a rune for his magic that as near as he could tell, was devoted to Travel. Desperate to reunite with his friend, Harold threw his caution to the wind and used it, pouring all of his strength into the runic magic. It drained him severely, stripping things from him that he can’t remember now, and catapulted him to another world. Sadly for him, it wasn’t the right world.
Appearance: Harold dresses in rough trousers, a tan shirt and a leather vest that is strewn with small pouches. Strapped to his back is his black messenger bag, he has thin black framed glasses that frame dark green eyes. His hair is red, and when he gained his Runic magic he got several streaks of light blond hair at his bangs. He has several scars, including one that looks like a through and through on his right hand – a scar on both his palm and the back of his hand that mirror each other – and one over his heart, relics from some of the fights he was involved in. He walks with a limp in his right leg, mitigated by his staff. Harold doesn’t actually have a limp, he grew used to pretending to have one while using a sword cane for self defense, and he’s forgotten to stop.
Skills:
Research: Harold is well used to understanding things, and given time to examine and study them, can pick out details that might escape others’ attention.
Eidectic Memory: Harold has rigorously trained his mind to be able to retain things. He takes a deep offense to the fact that using the Travel rune ripped memories from his mind, as he considers it an insult to his talent and the hard work he put in.
Staff Training: Harold knows some basics in using a staff in combat, though he has only started routinely using one instead of a cane in recent months.
Ability: Runic Magic:
Harold’s magic is that of the Runes. He only remembers a few basic ones, but he remembers how to gain more. He can combine runes together or utilize them by themselves, empowering them with his innate magic to do an incredible variety of things depending on their combination. Harold can use Five Runes before needing to rest and recuperate his magical potential.
Known Runes:
Combat Capable:
Creature: This Rune is one of the first two that Harold learned. It is rather versatile, as by itself it creates a simple golem of whatever material is near where it is placed. It is when combined with other runes that it starts becoming powerful, as it can create elemental creatures, golems of that element, or something else entirely. At his current level, each use of the rune creates one creature that can only last for a few minutes or take a small amount of damage. If he was to reinforce the rune by multiple uses the time or durability would increase. The strength of the created being depends on the materials it is crafted with, with no magical enhancement at the moment. At Harold's current level of strength, of the five runes combat runes he can use without resting and recharging, he can use this one twice, creating one golem each time.
Weapon: The second of Harold’s original runes, this creates a weapon. Harold originally used it to create basic clubs, but as his magical prowess grows or he combines it with other runes, he can create more and more advanced weapons or mystical ones. Each use of this rune at his current level creates a simple shaft of material out of whatever he carves or draws this rune on, taking the substance out of the object he is placing the rune onto. Such weapons can hold a slight edge, but overall are better suited currently to clubs. Created weapons only hold cohesion for a few minutes currently, and have no enhanced durability or other enhancements/enchantments. At Harold's current level of strength, of the five combat runes he can use without resting and recharging, he can use this one twice, creating one weapon each time.
Out of Combat:
Water: One of only two runes that Harold learned working to protect his world that he remembers after the disastrous Travel rune’s usage, he can only manage to make this run give him enough water to fill his flask ever so often.
Travel: This rune is currently out of Harold’s reach, he doesn’t have the magic necessary to power even a minor usage at this time. The rune that could have ruined Harold’s life. Right now, using this rune would randomly transport Harold somewhere else, the distance from his original location depending on how much of his power he sinks into the rune. Using it to traverse the world gap actually burned away some of Harold’s magical power, and damaged his memory; and though the power can be regained, the Runes he knew – the runic names of his friends for example – might be forever lost. Combining this rune with another will transport him to the nearest example of what the rune names – if he has the power to reach it.
Equipment: Messenger bag for carrying gear, pouches on his hip with writing tools and etching tools to make runes.
An oaken staff bound with iron. (Staff blade hidden within, a twist and lock button pushes the blade out for combat.)
Nickname/Alias: Harry, Rune
Age: 24
Race: Human
Height: 5 foot 11 inches
Weight: 215 lbs
Occupation: Former Bookstore owner, Researcher
Personality: Stiff and formal, will hyperfocus on something new or unusual he considers worth researching.
History: Harold’s story was a rollercoaster. His family was a line of British occult fanatics, for a good reason. Their progenitor had made a deal with an ancient daemon, which granted them a bloodline capable of using infernal magics. Fast-forward several generations, to a young redheaded child who was trusting of his family. Harold’s family had a somewhat eccentric uncle, who seemed rather fond of the young boy. Harold spent many weeks at his uncle’s house, learning simple cantrips and of a gentleman’s life.
That changed in the late autumn of Harold’s fourteenth year. Though Harold didn’t know it, it was the night of Samhain, on what would prove to be the cusp of his magical adolescence. His uncle had been rather firm that Harold would spend the night there, as his house was safer for what would come then his parent’s townhouse was. He had a pleasant evening as was typical of visit’s to his uncle’s home, though he did feel a bit sleepier than normal when he’d finished his meal. He made sure to study the last cantrip in the book that his uncle had given him, a simple alarm ward that would send him a jolt of electricity if someone tripped it, something that seemed to amuse his uncle.
Harold went to bed early that night, and before he went to sleep he grinned. His uncle would sometimes come in early in the morning to wake him up, and Harold wanted to surprise him by actually being awake, so he set up the new ward that he’d learned. It took nearly half an hour, during which he got progressively more tired. He managed to get the ward set up before crawling onto his bed, passing out before he even pulled the covers up over himself.
In the middle of the night Harold’s eyes shot open wide, the aftereffects of what felt like licking a battery running down his spine. His eyes swept his room hurriedly, thinking that someone was breaking into his uncle’s house. He froze in place upon seeing a dark-robed figure flowing into the room through the door, which had an eerie red light flickering from the hallway. The figure muttered a word – and Harold was shocked to find that it was his uncle’s voice – and Harold’s body snapped rigid, and slowly began levitating up off the bed.
Minutes passed with Harold floating silent and unmoving behind his uncle, going down hallways that he’d long been forbidden from going through, past statues that made no sense in his uncle’s home. They finally reached a large, blood red door with pitch black lines drawn across it. Harold’s uncle gestured sharply and the door flew open, revealing the source of the unnatural red light that had been present in the hallway. Within the room was a flat table of stone, with what looked like a trough around the outside edge. The table itself was covered in what dark red rust stains. The source of the light though, was the brazier behind the table, which was lit with what looked like red lightning flickering in the shape of a fire.
Harold was lifted onto the table, and the rigor that was holding his body was released. Despite that, he stayed limp, absolutely terrified and confused by the events so far, and by the surroundings he was now in. His uncle seemed to ignore him for the moment, instead walking to the brazier doing something to it, obscuring his actions with his body from Harold’s sight. Whatever the older man was doing, the light suddenly flared brighter, stinging his eyes. He heard his uncle begin chanting in the language he had been teaching Harold cantrips in, though the words themselves were nothing like the ones he knew. Harold’s body froze up for a different reason, terror and an unnatural fear gripping him as his uncle continued chanting.
Harold nearly sat up when a different, deeper, more guttural voice responded to his uncle’s chanting. This one broke the terror that had gripped him at first, sending him into a panicked state. He saw his uncle’s hand move out from his body, brandishing what looked like a jagged shard of black and red metal. That was the final straw for the camel’s back that was Harold’s sanity, and the boy broke and ran, fleeing through the hallways of a place he once felt comfortable in, that now was dark and terrifying. He heard his uncle bite off a curse behind him, and felt something flicker at his feet. He leapt and scrambled around a corner, out of the line of sight of the doorway, and kept running.
Forty five minutes later he was in the woods a fair distance from his uncle’s abode, having never stopped running. He was cut and torn, having thrown himself from a second story window to escape when he saw some of the strange statues patrolling near the stairs. He’d managed to roll when he landed and kept from hurting himself. Now deep in the woods, he was stunned to look back and see his uncle’s house burning, burning to the ground with that same unnatural light that had been in the brazier. He staggered and stumbled away, pushing towards the direction he thought was civilization.
Then more tragedy dropped onto the shattered boy. He’d managed to hitch a ride back to his hometown, only to find firefighters finishing putting out a fire at his parent’s home. He managed to grab a neighbor who recognized him, and the look in the man’s eyes told him the answer before he’d even asked his question. Harold broke down crying right then and there.
Thus began a new stage in his life. The young man left the town where his family had lived, and traveled through several regions. He ended up getting taken in by a stranger who took pity on him, and raised him as much as the broken boy could be raised at that point. He took solace in the stranger’s workplace, which was a bookstore, and retreated into the books. Years passed, and he got an opportunity to move to another town to open a new branch for the bookstore, eventually becoming the owner of that one himself. There were some…. Interesting events that occurred in that town that he lived in. He had abandoned the magic that his family was invested in, having a severe dislike for the infernal after nearly being sacrificed. He had never figured out what his uncle was trying to sacrifice him for, but what he could figure out wasn’t good. But in this town he had been given a new magic by a being he still barely understood, one of Runes. Of course, it had come at a price. He had become a contractor, working to prevent monsters and threats from bleeding over from the world where the being he’d been given his power had come from. The creature had been a mage from that world, going by the name Myrrdin, and the trust and reliability the other spelluser had had given to Harold as his partner had helped deal with the mental trauma of his family’s betrayal. Working together with other contractor pairs, the two mages kept the other from merging with the normal one.
But then things had changed. Something had happened to cut the other world off completely, ripping Harold’s best friend and partner away. Harold had devoted nearly a year, and had discovered a rune for his magic that as near as he could tell, was devoted to Travel. Desperate to reunite with his friend, Harold threw his caution to the wind and used it, pouring all of his strength into the runic magic. It drained him severely, stripping things from him that he can’t remember now, and catapulted him to another world. Sadly for him, it wasn’t the right world.
Appearance: Harold dresses in rough trousers, a tan shirt and a leather vest that is strewn with small pouches. Strapped to his back is his black messenger bag, he has thin black framed glasses that frame dark green eyes. His hair is red, and when he gained his Runic magic he got several streaks of light blond hair at his bangs. He has several scars, including one that looks like a through and through on his right hand – a scar on both his palm and the back of his hand that mirror each other – and one over his heart, relics from some of the fights he was involved in. He walks with a limp in his right leg, mitigated by his staff. Harold doesn’t actually have a limp, he grew used to pretending to have one while using a sword cane for self defense, and he’s forgotten to stop.
Skills:
Research: Harold is well used to understanding things, and given time to examine and study them, can pick out details that might escape others’ attention.
Eidectic Memory: Harold has rigorously trained his mind to be able to retain things. He takes a deep offense to the fact that using the Travel rune ripped memories from his mind, as he considers it an insult to his talent and the hard work he put in.
Staff Training: Harold knows some basics in using a staff in combat, though he has only started routinely using one instead of a cane in recent months.
Ability: Runic Magic:
Harold’s magic is that of the Runes. He only remembers a few basic ones, but he remembers how to gain more. He can combine runes together or utilize them by themselves, empowering them with his innate magic to do an incredible variety of things depending on their combination. Harold can use Five Runes before needing to rest and recuperate his magical potential.
Known Runes:
Combat Capable:
Creature: This Rune is one of the first two that Harold learned. It is rather versatile, as by itself it creates a simple golem of whatever material is near where it is placed. It is when combined with other runes that it starts becoming powerful, as it can create elemental creatures, golems of that element, or something else entirely. At his current level, each use of the rune creates one creature that can only last for a few minutes or take a small amount of damage. If he was to reinforce the rune by multiple uses the time or durability would increase. The strength of the created being depends on the materials it is crafted with, with no magical enhancement at the moment. At Harold's current level of strength, of the five runes combat runes he can use without resting and recharging, he can use this one twice, creating one golem each time.
Weapon: The second of Harold’s original runes, this creates a weapon. Harold originally used it to create basic clubs, but as his magical prowess grows or he combines it with other runes, he can create more and more advanced weapons or mystical ones. Each use of this rune at his current level creates a simple shaft of material out of whatever he carves or draws this rune on, taking the substance out of the object he is placing the rune onto. Such weapons can hold a slight edge, but overall are better suited currently to clubs. Created weapons only hold cohesion for a few minutes currently, and have no enhanced durability or other enhancements/enchantments. At Harold's current level of strength, of the five combat runes he can use without resting and recharging, he can use this one twice, creating one weapon each time.
Out of Combat:
Water: One of only two runes that Harold learned working to protect his world that he remembers after the disastrous Travel rune’s usage, he can only manage to make this run give him enough water to fill his flask ever so often.
Travel: This rune is currently out of Harold’s reach, he doesn’t have the magic necessary to power even a minor usage at this time. The rune that could have ruined Harold’s life. Right now, using this rune would randomly transport Harold somewhere else, the distance from his original location depending on how much of his power he sinks into the rune. Using it to traverse the world gap actually burned away some of Harold’s magical power, and damaged his memory; and though the power can be regained, the Runes he knew – the runic names of his friends for example – might be forever lost. Combining this rune with another will transport him to the nearest example of what the rune names – if he has the power to reach it.
Equipment: Messenger bag for carrying gear, pouches on his hip with writing tools and etching tools to make runes.
An oaken staff bound with iron. (Staff blade hidden within, a twist and lock button pushes the blade out for combat.)