Dirge
01-09-07, 01:06 PM
==History==
.A.Sadist.Beginning.
[0]
"Child, what are you doing?" With a swift kick the man sent the boy nearly flying across the small room. With the gruff, throaty laughter the man turned and started for the doorway. In the corner the boy sobbed, silently as to not raise the anger of the man again. Behind him the open book flipped pages at random, the slammed door sending the pages to motion. The poor child turned, tears budding at the corners of his face. His hands rubbed at the new mark, the heavy red mark already forming. It wasn't the kick that hurt as much as the pain of loneliness, the sense of longing, and the lack of love.
Years had passed and the 'family' that the young Vigo was cursed to be born of had continued to leave him forgotten. As a child, the boy had come to know the world as a harsh, hateful place, filled with the uncaring. His father was a gruff, Salvarian human. He was difficult to deal with, difficult to understand. His mother had died giving birth to him. She was a high elf of Raiaeran decent, blessed with grace. The love between the two was something that also was forgotten. The love between the two had been just as brutal and unforgiving.
His father had taken his mother into bed, without a wedding. The result was Vigo, an unwanted and unexpected child. During the time of pregnancy Vigo’s mother had attempted to plead for a marriage. But his father would have nothing of it.
When Vigo finally came, and his mother died, his father cursed him. He spat in his face verbal obscenities. The boy was not wanted, not cared for, and no more than a burden. Vigo grew up an obligation to a departed and forgotten lover.
With a tear streaked fist the boy slammed his hand against the creaking wooden floors. He swore, quietly of course, that things would be different one day. Another smash of his fist against the floor and the boy was swearing because of his throbbing hand. He shifted, slowly, moving again towards the book of magic. Its ancient text was scribbled, hand written by the parents of his mother.
.Time.Between.
[0]
Time passed the young half elf, leaving him to grow and learn. His abusive ‘family’ grew old, quickly. While his father slowly degraded to the withering old human Vigo grew stronger, older, and smarter. The abusive, and now alcoholic, father never let up… turning away from physical abuse to verbal, only furthering the young half-elf’s hatred.
However, time was the ally of the budding magician. His voice was strong, like his mothers, his magical prowess was far superior to his strength, but he trained himself in both fields. The withered book of his mother had been studied time and time again. What few spells were contained within the book was long since studied, long since practiced. But only experience would prove the true potential of the young sorcerer, and Vigo knew that.
.Torment.
[0]
By the mid-twenties the abuse had come to a head. The sixty year old human had pushed Vigo for the last time, and the sorcerer struck back. It was at that point that the boy’s morbid and twisted side began to form.
“Fuckin’ child!” The man lashed out again… kicking the half-elf square across his angular chin. As soon as his foot left the floor, however, the alcohol took control. Gravity pulled the man down to the floor, splashing a nearly empty mug of hard-ale across the grungy flooring.
Vigo pushed himself away from the floor, keeping his head down. It was not from fear that he looked away, but to keep the rage that built in his eyes from being seen. The budding sorcerer shifted uneasily. He had taken more beatings lately than he had ever had. Was it because he was growing older, and stronger? Was it because the bastard of a father was growing weaker and older? The boy couldn’t tell, but he knew it was growing old… quickly.
“Gods be damned, fuckin’ half-elf piece of shit…” The heavy man stood, a hand to his head as he turned on his ‘son’. “Look what you made me do. I dropped my ale, a full tankard too.”
Vigo shifted again. He looked at the small spill, no bigger than the fat man’s head. It was far from full.
“Good thing your mother died, rather than then see what a sorry sack of shit you are.”
Vigo twisted, seeing the man turn away from him. The anger in his eyes build to a point that he could no longer hold it within. The flame of passion was coursing through his veins, burning beneath his skin. He could hold it in no longer.
“You will grovel before me before this night descends. For your insolence, for your hatred, for that which you have forced me to be, you shall writhe in torment. Your souls shows me nothing but fear and hatred for that which I am, for that which I shall one day become. Cry and beg for your death to be swift. When you pass you will not be joining my mother past the gates of Bjormund in the Antifirmament. When you pass you will remain in this world for eternity.” The boy’s elven tongue spat acid at his drunkard of a father, cursing him.
As he spoke his father had turned towards him, shock in his hazed eyes. Vigo allowed him little time to retaliate, verbally or physically. His hands were aglow with the cursed and criminal magic of the Dirge, the .necromatic.touch. consuming his fingers. The man put up a hand to block from the open-palm strike, only to receive a dotting over bumps across the back of his hand and wrist. A red rash budded as well.
Vigo smirked, a wicked twist of a rather handsome face. The man looked at his hands in shock, only to receive a powerful strike to his throat. Strike after strike rained down on the fat man, his skin began to glow and throb with the painful burns and budding blisters. Vigo gave him little time to move, again, and struck quickly.
The palm of his hand smashed the man’s chin, throwing his head back with a light crack. Before he could recover, mid-stumble, the young sorcerer delivered a devastating blow with his right hand. Again the man’s head snapped, this time driving him to the ground.
“What the… fuck?” He asked between a bloody cough and a bursting blister. “What have you… become?”
“Too long you have tormented me, physically as well as emotionally. Your arrogance has put you atop a pedestal so high. Now you have fallen off, you have taken quite a fall indeed.” Vigo said as his hands returned to normal, only two minutes having passed. He gripped a handful of the man’s greasy, long hair and pulled his head up as he squatted down. The man he once knew as a father figure, the emotionless bastard that had raised him for years, was little more than a broken human. His clouded gray eyes were lost with confusion and fear. “And now you die…”
“No,” the man said, just before the half-elf drove his head into the boards. Over and over again the thick skull of the human smashed against the floor. Over and over again the crack that resounded forced tears to stream from Vigo’s eyes. By the time he finished the side of the man’s skull had caved in, blood and drool mingled into a puddle beneath his limp head.
It had been finished, finally.
But death was only the beginning of the repercussions and revenge that Vigo had for so long planned. He scooped up the heavy, steel mug the old man had treasured for so long. His fingers ran over a few dents that had been put into it from striking his head. Tears streamed down his angular face, not from sorrow but from relief.
A lament of sorrow and remorse slowly issued from him. His deep song was filled with passion and disgust, but most especially the hurt that he had felt for so long. Vigo finished, placing his hands on the man’s head and the mug. A flash of dull light and a seal was present, ever so slight, and then it was gone not even a second later.
The soul was trapped.
The half-elf sorcerer, a practitioner of the dirge magic, learned and self-taught in the ways of Raiaeran song magic had trapped the bastard’s soul in the world of the Firmament. The torment of the soul cried in anguish, writhing in terror and horror. Vigo felt little satisfaction though.
Before the village in the hills could figure out what happened between the two, before they could blame the young half-elf for the murder, Vigo fled. He took his sword cane, his clothes, and what sanity he could claim. From then on the young sorcerer grew and grew, slowly leaving the outlying villages between Raiaera and Salvar. Over time he moved into the world of Althanas, first towards Scara Brae and then on, skipping across the islands, not wanting to return to the mainland.
==Basics==
Name Vigo Drak Ruinn
Alias’ Prince of Rodents
Age 29
Age Appearance ~27
Gender Male
Sexual Orientation Straight
Race half-elf
Height 5' 8"
Weight 135
Build Light
Skin Color Light Honey
Hair Dark Brown
Eyes Green
Hand Preference Right
Marital Status
Occupation Budding Sorcerer
Home Nation Southern Salvar
Current Location Fallien
Language Comprehension Tradespeak (common), Elven (High elf accent)
Education
Personally taught magical prowess and spells. Schooled by personal tutors and townsfolk in a broad range of topics including mathematics, linguistics, and astronomy. ((Chemistry is rudimentary, and as basic as medieval Europe (minus black powder), and astronomy is only used for basic knowledge of the star patterns and basic knowledge of direction.))
Class Sorcerer
A sorcerer is a class all its own. Magic runs rampant through the world of Althanas, consuming some and being adopted by others. Sorcerers are known for their abilities to be self-taught, varied, and dangerously unstable. Flows of magic are hard to control, the small points in a person’s body (untrained) having the chances of bursting and killing the wielder. However, it is also possible for a sorcerer to bend and wield the flows of magic into a beautiful and destructive force. Sorcerers are known for their potential to cast more and powerful spells that would otherwise take years for a mage or wizard to learn.
==Goals==
Goals? What is a goal but an ever changing future?
Vigo is a spastic adventurer, changing his goals constantly. Currently his goals are nothing more than doing what he feels like, amassing wealth (like all normal people), finding a lover (not a wife or anything), and becoming more powerful magically.
He holds no dreams of becoming famous, no real ambitions of overtaking the world. Vigo is a simple person, aiming for simple things.
==Appearance (http://ic3.deviantart.com/fs4/i/2004/249/0/7/Prince_of_Rodents_by_ShardGlass.jpg)==
*Art by ShardGlass on Deviantart.com*
.The face of the half-elf is a mix of his human and elven ancestry, creating something less than pure and inspiring, definitely not the romanticized elves of stories. His chin, cheeks, and forehead are angular and sharp. His eyes are only slightly slanted, tilted upwards just enough to make some wonder about a possible elven heritage. His nose is sharp, but not very large, giving him the appearance of a egotistical high elf of Raiaera. His eyes are a heavy jade at most times, rarely do they change to the softer emerald coloration. His ears are sharp, but not very long, pointed at the very tips only. He has a full head of dark brown hair (nearly black), long and smooth.
.Vigo’s body is small, normally underestimated, and yet somewhat taunt. The muscle that ripples beneath the skin is never covered by fat, and very lean. His arms and legs make him look a little awkward, and definitely gaunt. Years of malnourishment as a child, especially during the years of growth, have obviously affected him physically.
.His upper body is covered by a common brown shirt. Atop that is a button up white collared, long sleeve shirt, half unbuttoned. Over that is another layer, this one an open blue vest. He wears a pair of slightly loose black leather pants. Across his waist is a layering of up to four belts, one for his pants, the others for attaching pouches, weapons, and other miscellaneous gear to. He wears a light, auburn, high collared, open cloak over everything. The cloak falls to the back of his knees and billows slightly at the cuffs. Of course, he wears a pair of simple leather boots for traveling.
.He only has a single item of jewelry, and that is the necklace that adorns his neck. At its center is a small gem, no special properties, which he found had belonged to his mother. It glows a faint green when magic is being used, and when used by the caster thin tendrils of crimson run through it.
==Weapons==
.Sword.Cane. (http://store1.yimg.com/I/gyby_1931_17887577)
The sword cane is made of a blackened oak with two rings of blackened iron banded around the top and bottom. A small lock rests along the side of the top, a flick of a finger and it is locked or unlocked. The head is a solid steel shaped like a simply cut diamond. It is a total length of 38 inches; the sword length is 25 inches. The blade is made of thin steel, wielded like a rapier, and has a four inch handle (oak). At the end it is capped with a thin blackened iron cap, so that the wood neither rots nor shreds when in use. The inside is layered with boiled and hardened leather, slick enough to allow for easy drawing but thick enough to not allow the blade to rattle while hidden.
==Armor==
None
==Skills==
{Novice} {Adept} {Below Average} {Average} {Above Average} {Skilled} {Expert} {Mastered}
Combat
.Swords. {Novice}
Vigo has very little training, personal or otherwise, in the use of swords. His concealed sword cane is mainly a last defense weapon. When compared to the average of other people using the bladed weapon, such as a rapier, Vigo is far below average and probably even considered as low as a novice.
.Hand.to.Hand. {Adept}
The half-elf has, however, trained a bit in fighting. Training means nothing, however, when thrown into a real fight. Vigo knows that, and would rate himself as no higher than an adept, not quite at the point of a below average fighter yet. In a fight, though, he will resort to a mix of hand to hand and smacking people with his cane… if his magic runs out that is.
==Magic==
Dirge (Death Sphere)
.Necromantic.Touch. [0]
.The touch of the crypt, as it is also known, is a simple spell that is used primarily for combat. When activated the caster’s hands glow a faint color, normally a hue of purple, yellow, or green. As soon as the glow takes over the entire body part, normally hands but can also be feet, the spell is active. A strike, or contacting the glowing appendage with a person, causes small blisters and a rash as painful as a minor burn to appear across the flesh. Powerful necromancers can wield the spell to the full potential, causing boils and blisters that burst across the flesh, and it is rumored that the spell can even work its way into a person and blister their organs.
As of right now, for Vigo at least, the spell is only powerful enough to cause a rash and small blisters. It is mainly used to cause pain, distract, and create unease to hinder fighting. At the same time, a punch to someone’s face can normally incapacitate them for some time.
.Lasts at least ten minutes.
.Must have a cool down of one hour between uses.
.Down-Side: Cannot be used against someone wearing thick leather armor, or any form of metallic armor; a knight (fully armored) would be unaffected in any way.
.Tormented.Soul. [0]
.This ability does little for the young caster. A tormented soul is one that is unable to be released to the gatekeeper, unable to leave the world of Althanas. The spell, once cast on a recently deceased corpse, causes the soul of the dead to be pulled violently into the world. This soul, now a ghost, is forced by a seal to remain in the world of the living and wander. However, the seal is placed on an object (can be the body) and wherever that object (something relevant to the dead) moved the soul moves with it. The soul is able to be seen by the more powerful sorcerers/necromancers that deal with souls and ghosts, and the seal is only able to be broken by the original caster or another caster of a higher power. Powerful necromancers can create distorted souls known as banshees, letting their twisted screams affect any adventurer. The spell is mostly used to create haunted areas, normally strongholds for a necromancer or as a punishment for the dead.
Vigo, at this point, is able to tear the soul from the body and place the seal, but do little else. The soul, if one can see it, does a wide array of unusual motions: mumbles, cries, screams (only within the Antifirmament and not the Firmament), twitches, and many others. Because the spell is cast by Vigo he can see the soul, and he can release it… but only other powerful necromancers, or casters experienced in souls, are able to see it or release it.
.Lasts until the soul is released, one way or another.
.Cool-down depends on the power of the soul’s original host; haunting a peasant would take nothing; haunting a powerful knight would take a little more and cause a drain.
.Down-side: Bjormund’s Wrath, not allowing souls of the departed has inspired the wrath of the Death-Gate gatekeeper Bjormund in the past; the wrath is often imparted into disciples of Hromagh or Draconus in order to eliminate the offender.
.Swarm. [0]
.The spell creates a small swarm of whatever hateful, often disgusting creature happens to be in the environment at the time. The caster, depending on how powerful, can summon swarms of rats or locusts to torment the living. In the city the most common is rats, though cockroaches and other suck bugs are known to appear as well. The swarm spell is often used well in conjunction with other spells, such as .Summon.Plague. and .Curse.. A swarm is normally something that is signature for the caster, as time goes on a specific caster becomes known for the swarm they summon most often. A swarm is nearly impossible to control, except for the most powerful of magicians.
Vigo is known for summoning a swarm of rats, hence his alias “Prince of Rodents”. He gets along with the little creatures, and they all seem to have an unnatural connection with him as well. If used in a fight the swarm of rats he summons can feel his anger and direct it at a single source, an interesting way to fight. However, because that is the only swarm animal that he has that sort of connection with all other summoned swarms will merely meander about and act like a wall or barrier. They will not often turn on the caster, but controlling the hive-mind like swarm is nearly impossible for Vigo.
.Lasts as long as the animals feel like being present; when enough rats get smashed and killed the others will begin to flee like normal.
.A swarm can only be summoned as long as the animal/creature is willing to be summoned; a recently dispersed swarm of rodents will probably not be resummoned soon after.
.Down-side: As always, a swarm turning on its summoner is always a bad thing.
General Magic (No specified sphere)
.Cantrips. [0]
A strew of minor cantrips, learned from the book of his mother. Cantrips are nothing that can be used for offense or defense in a fight, but instead are something akin to parlor tricks. Floating a cup to the caster, making a coin disappear from one hand and appear in the other, floating a rope from a jar… they are all considered minor cantrips and nothing more. Vigo can cast them easily, but only uses them from time to time. Being known for casting seems to be over-popular in some places, and extremely dangerous in others.
.No drain from casting; due to them being simple spells that do nothing.
.Cantrips are always non-offensive, and non-defensive.
((Could you please link this, Osato, Ranger, and Calaelen as well? Gracias!))
.A.Sadist.Beginning.
[0]
"Child, what are you doing?" With a swift kick the man sent the boy nearly flying across the small room. With the gruff, throaty laughter the man turned and started for the doorway. In the corner the boy sobbed, silently as to not raise the anger of the man again. Behind him the open book flipped pages at random, the slammed door sending the pages to motion. The poor child turned, tears budding at the corners of his face. His hands rubbed at the new mark, the heavy red mark already forming. It wasn't the kick that hurt as much as the pain of loneliness, the sense of longing, and the lack of love.
Years had passed and the 'family' that the young Vigo was cursed to be born of had continued to leave him forgotten. As a child, the boy had come to know the world as a harsh, hateful place, filled with the uncaring. His father was a gruff, Salvarian human. He was difficult to deal with, difficult to understand. His mother had died giving birth to him. She was a high elf of Raiaeran decent, blessed with grace. The love between the two was something that also was forgotten. The love between the two had been just as brutal and unforgiving.
His father had taken his mother into bed, without a wedding. The result was Vigo, an unwanted and unexpected child. During the time of pregnancy Vigo’s mother had attempted to plead for a marriage. But his father would have nothing of it.
When Vigo finally came, and his mother died, his father cursed him. He spat in his face verbal obscenities. The boy was not wanted, not cared for, and no more than a burden. Vigo grew up an obligation to a departed and forgotten lover.
With a tear streaked fist the boy slammed his hand against the creaking wooden floors. He swore, quietly of course, that things would be different one day. Another smash of his fist against the floor and the boy was swearing because of his throbbing hand. He shifted, slowly, moving again towards the book of magic. Its ancient text was scribbled, hand written by the parents of his mother.
.Time.Between.
[0]
Time passed the young half elf, leaving him to grow and learn. His abusive ‘family’ grew old, quickly. While his father slowly degraded to the withering old human Vigo grew stronger, older, and smarter. The abusive, and now alcoholic, father never let up… turning away from physical abuse to verbal, only furthering the young half-elf’s hatred.
However, time was the ally of the budding magician. His voice was strong, like his mothers, his magical prowess was far superior to his strength, but he trained himself in both fields. The withered book of his mother had been studied time and time again. What few spells were contained within the book was long since studied, long since practiced. But only experience would prove the true potential of the young sorcerer, and Vigo knew that.
.Torment.
[0]
By the mid-twenties the abuse had come to a head. The sixty year old human had pushed Vigo for the last time, and the sorcerer struck back. It was at that point that the boy’s morbid and twisted side began to form.
“Fuckin’ child!” The man lashed out again… kicking the half-elf square across his angular chin. As soon as his foot left the floor, however, the alcohol took control. Gravity pulled the man down to the floor, splashing a nearly empty mug of hard-ale across the grungy flooring.
Vigo pushed himself away from the floor, keeping his head down. It was not from fear that he looked away, but to keep the rage that built in his eyes from being seen. The budding sorcerer shifted uneasily. He had taken more beatings lately than he had ever had. Was it because he was growing older, and stronger? Was it because the bastard of a father was growing weaker and older? The boy couldn’t tell, but he knew it was growing old… quickly.
“Gods be damned, fuckin’ half-elf piece of shit…” The heavy man stood, a hand to his head as he turned on his ‘son’. “Look what you made me do. I dropped my ale, a full tankard too.”
Vigo shifted again. He looked at the small spill, no bigger than the fat man’s head. It was far from full.
“Good thing your mother died, rather than then see what a sorry sack of shit you are.”
Vigo twisted, seeing the man turn away from him. The anger in his eyes build to a point that he could no longer hold it within. The flame of passion was coursing through his veins, burning beneath his skin. He could hold it in no longer.
“You will grovel before me before this night descends. For your insolence, for your hatred, for that which you have forced me to be, you shall writhe in torment. Your souls shows me nothing but fear and hatred for that which I am, for that which I shall one day become. Cry and beg for your death to be swift. When you pass you will not be joining my mother past the gates of Bjormund in the Antifirmament. When you pass you will remain in this world for eternity.” The boy’s elven tongue spat acid at his drunkard of a father, cursing him.
As he spoke his father had turned towards him, shock in his hazed eyes. Vigo allowed him little time to retaliate, verbally or physically. His hands were aglow with the cursed and criminal magic of the Dirge, the .necromatic.touch. consuming his fingers. The man put up a hand to block from the open-palm strike, only to receive a dotting over bumps across the back of his hand and wrist. A red rash budded as well.
Vigo smirked, a wicked twist of a rather handsome face. The man looked at his hands in shock, only to receive a powerful strike to his throat. Strike after strike rained down on the fat man, his skin began to glow and throb with the painful burns and budding blisters. Vigo gave him little time to move, again, and struck quickly.
The palm of his hand smashed the man’s chin, throwing his head back with a light crack. Before he could recover, mid-stumble, the young sorcerer delivered a devastating blow with his right hand. Again the man’s head snapped, this time driving him to the ground.
“What the… fuck?” He asked between a bloody cough and a bursting blister. “What have you… become?”
“Too long you have tormented me, physically as well as emotionally. Your arrogance has put you atop a pedestal so high. Now you have fallen off, you have taken quite a fall indeed.” Vigo said as his hands returned to normal, only two minutes having passed. He gripped a handful of the man’s greasy, long hair and pulled his head up as he squatted down. The man he once knew as a father figure, the emotionless bastard that had raised him for years, was little more than a broken human. His clouded gray eyes were lost with confusion and fear. “And now you die…”
“No,” the man said, just before the half-elf drove his head into the boards. Over and over again the thick skull of the human smashed against the floor. Over and over again the crack that resounded forced tears to stream from Vigo’s eyes. By the time he finished the side of the man’s skull had caved in, blood and drool mingled into a puddle beneath his limp head.
It had been finished, finally.
But death was only the beginning of the repercussions and revenge that Vigo had for so long planned. He scooped up the heavy, steel mug the old man had treasured for so long. His fingers ran over a few dents that had been put into it from striking his head. Tears streamed down his angular face, not from sorrow but from relief.
A lament of sorrow and remorse slowly issued from him. His deep song was filled with passion and disgust, but most especially the hurt that he had felt for so long. Vigo finished, placing his hands on the man’s head and the mug. A flash of dull light and a seal was present, ever so slight, and then it was gone not even a second later.
The soul was trapped.
The half-elf sorcerer, a practitioner of the dirge magic, learned and self-taught in the ways of Raiaeran song magic had trapped the bastard’s soul in the world of the Firmament. The torment of the soul cried in anguish, writhing in terror and horror. Vigo felt little satisfaction though.
Before the village in the hills could figure out what happened between the two, before they could blame the young half-elf for the murder, Vigo fled. He took his sword cane, his clothes, and what sanity he could claim. From then on the young sorcerer grew and grew, slowly leaving the outlying villages between Raiaera and Salvar. Over time he moved into the world of Althanas, first towards Scara Brae and then on, skipping across the islands, not wanting to return to the mainland.
==Basics==
Name Vigo Drak Ruinn
Alias’ Prince of Rodents
Age 29
Age Appearance ~27
Gender Male
Sexual Orientation Straight
Race half-elf
Height 5' 8"
Weight 135
Build Light
Skin Color Light Honey
Hair Dark Brown
Eyes Green
Hand Preference Right
Marital Status
Occupation Budding Sorcerer
Home Nation Southern Salvar
Current Location Fallien
Language Comprehension Tradespeak (common), Elven (High elf accent)
Education
Personally taught magical prowess and spells. Schooled by personal tutors and townsfolk in a broad range of topics including mathematics, linguistics, and astronomy. ((Chemistry is rudimentary, and as basic as medieval Europe (minus black powder), and astronomy is only used for basic knowledge of the star patterns and basic knowledge of direction.))
Class Sorcerer
A sorcerer is a class all its own. Magic runs rampant through the world of Althanas, consuming some and being adopted by others. Sorcerers are known for their abilities to be self-taught, varied, and dangerously unstable. Flows of magic are hard to control, the small points in a person’s body (untrained) having the chances of bursting and killing the wielder. However, it is also possible for a sorcerer to bend and wield the flows of magic into a beautiful and destructive force. Sorcerers are known for their potential to cast more and powerful spells that would otherwise take years for a mage or wizard to learn.
==Goals==
Goals? What is a goal but an ever changing future?
Vigo is a spastic adventurer, changing his goals constantly. Currently his goals are nothing more than doing what he feels like, amassing wealth (like all normal people), finding a lover (not a wife or anything), and becoming more powerful magically.
He holds no dreams of becoming famous, no real ambitions of overtaking the world. Vigo is a simple person, aiming for simple things.
==Appearance (http://ic3.deviantart.com/fs4/i/2004/249/0/7/Prince_of_Rodents_by_ShardGlass.jpg)==
*Art by ShardGlass on Deviantart.com*
.The face of the half-elf is a mix of his human and elven ancestry, creating something less than pure and inspiring, definitely not the romanticized elves of stories. His chin, cheeks, and forehead are angular and sharp. His eyes are only slightly slanted, tilted upwards just enough to make some wonder about a possible elven heritage. His nose is sharp, but not very large, giving him the appearance of a egotistical high elf of Raiaera. His eyes are a heavy jade at most times, rarely do they change to the softer emerald coloration. His ears are sharp, but not very long, pointed at the very tips only. He has a full head of dark brown hair (nearly black), long and smooth.
.Vigo’s body is small, normally underestimated, and yet somewhat taunt. The muscle that ripples beneath the skin is never covered by fat, and very lean. His arms and legs make him look a little awkward, and definitely gaunt. Years of malnourishment as a child, especially during the years of growth, have obviously affected him physically.
.His upper body is covered by a common brown shirt. Atop that is a button up white collared, long sleeve shirt, half unbuttoned. Over that is another layer, this one an open blue vest. He wears a pair of slightly loose black leather pants. Across his waist is a layering of up to four belts, one for his pants, the others for attaching pouches, weapons, and other miscellaneous gear to. He wears a light, auburn, high collared, open cloak over everything. The cloak falls to the back of his knees and billows slightly at the cuffs. Of course, he wears a pair of simple leather boots for traveling.
.He only has a single item of jewelry, and that is the necklace that adorns his neck. At its center is a small gem, no special properties, which he found had belonged to his mother. It glows a faint green when magic is being used, and when used by the caster thin tendrils of crimson run through it.
==Weapons==
.Sword.Cane. (http://store1.yimg.com/I/gyby_1931_17887577)
The sword cane is made of a blackened oak with two rings of blackened iron banded around the top and bottom. A small lock rests along the side of the top, a flick of a finger and it is locked or unlocked. The head is a solid steel shaped like a simply cut diamond. It is a total length of 38 inches; the sword length is 25 inches. The blade is made of thin steel, wielded like a rapier, and has a four inch handle (oak). At the end it is capped with a thin blackened iron cap, so that the wood neither rots nor shreds when in use. The inside is layered with boiled and hardened leather, slick enough to allow for easy drawing but thick enough to not allow the blade to rattle while hidden.
==Armor==
None
==Skills==
{Novice} {Adept} {Below Average} {Average} {Above Average} {Skilled} {Expert} {Mastered}
Combat
.Swords. {Novice}
Vigo has very little training, personal or otherwise, in the use of swords. His concealed sword cane is mainly a last defense weapon. When compared to the average of other people using the bladed weapon, such as a rapier, Vigo is far below average and probably even considered as low as a novice.
.Hand.to.Hand. {Adept}
The half-elf has, however, trained a bit in fighting. Training means nothing, however, when thrown into a real fight. Vigo knows that, and would rate himself as no higher than an adept, not quite at the point of a below average fighter yet. In a fight, though, he will resort to a mix of hand to hand and smacking people with his cane… if his magic runs out that is.
==Magic==
Dirge (Death Sphere)
.Necromantic.Touch. [0]
.The touch of the crypt, as it is also known, is a simple spell that is used primarily for combat. When activated the caster’s hands glow a faint color, normally a hue of purple, yellow, or green. As soon as the glow takes over the entire body part, normally hands but can also be feet, the spell is active. A strike, or contacting the glowing appendage with a person, causes small blisters and a rash as painful as a minor burn to appear across the flesh. Powerful necromancers can wield the spell to the full potential, causing boils and blisters that burst across the flesh, and it is rumored that the spell can even work its way into a person and blister their organs.
As of right now, for Vigo at least, the spell is only powerful enough to cause a rash and small blisters. It is mainly used to cause pain, distract, and create unease to hinder fighting. At the same time, a punch to someone’s face can normally incapacitate them for some time.
.Lasts at least ten minutes.
.Must have a cool down of one hour between uses.
.Down-Side: Cannot be used against someone wearing thick leather armor, or any form of metallic armor; a knight (fully armored) would be unaffected in any way.
.Tormented.Soul. [0]
.This ability does little for the young caster. A tormented soul is one that is unable to be released to the gatekeeper, unable to leave the world of Althanas. The spell, once cast on a recently deceased corpse, causes the soul of the dead to be pulled violently into the world. This soul, now a ghost, is forced by a seal to remain in the world of the living and wander. However, the seal is placed on an object (can be the body) and wherever that object (something relevant to the dead) moved the soul moves with it. The soul is able to be seen by the more powerful sorcerers/necromancers that deal with souls and ghosts, and the seal is only able to be broken by the original caster or another caster of a higher power. Powerful necromancers can create distorted souls known as banshees, letting their twisted screams affect any adventurer. The spell is mostly used to create haunted areas, normally strongholds for a necromancer or as a punishment for the dead.
Vigo, at this point, is able to tear the soul from the body and place the seal, but do little else. The soul, if one can see it, does a wide array of unusual motions: mumbles, cries, screams (only within the Antifirmament and not the Firmament), twitches, and many others. Because the spell is cast by Vigo he can see the soul, and he can release it… but only other powerful necromancers, or casters experienced in souls, are able to see it or release it.
.Lasts until the soul is released, one way or another.
.Cool-down depends on the power of the soul’s original host; haunting a peasant would take nothing; haunting a powerful knight would take a little more and cause a drain.
.Down-side: Bjormund’s Wrath, not allowing souls of the departed has inspired the wrath of the Death-Gate gatekeeper Bjormund in the past; the wrath is often imparted into disciples of Hromagh or Draconus in order to eliminate the offender.
.Swarm. [0]
.The spell creates a small swarm of whatever hateful, often disgusting creature happens to be in the environment at the time. The caster, depending on how powerful, can summon swarms of rats or locusts to torment the living. In the city the most common is rats, though cockroaches and other suck bugs are known to appear as well. The swarm spell is often used well in conjunction with other spells, such as .Summon.Plague. and .Curse.. A swarm is normally something that is signature for the caster, as time goes on a specific caster becomes known for the swarm they summon most often. A swarm is nearly impossible to control, except for the most powerful of magicians.
Vigo is known for summoning a swarm of rats, hence his alias “Prince of Rodents”. He gets along with the little creatures, and they all seem to have an unnatural connection with him as well. If used in a fight the swarm of rats he summons can feel his anger and direct it at a single source, an interesting way to fight. However, because that is the only swarm animal that he has that sort of connection with all other summoned swarms will merely meander about and act like a wall or barrier. They will not often turn on the caster, but controlling the hive-mind like swarm is nearly impossible for Vigo.
.Lasts as long as the animals feel like being present; when enough rats get smashed and killed the others will begin to flee like normal.
.A swarm can only be summoned as long as the animal/creature is willing to be summoned; a recently dispersed swarm of rodents will probably not be resummoned soon after.
.Down-side: As always, a swarm turning on its summoner is always a bad thing.
General Magic (No specified sphere)
.Cantrips. [0]
A strew of minor cantrips, learned from the book of his mother. Cantrips are nothing that can be used for offense or defense in a fight, but instead are something akin to parlor tricks. Floating a cup to the caster, making a coin disappear from one hand and appear in the other, floating a rope from a jar… they are all considered minor cantrips and nothing more. Vigo can cast them easily, but only uses them from time to time. Being known for casting seems to be over-popular in some places, and extremely dangerous in others.
.No drain from casting; due to them being simple spells that do nothing.
.Cantrips are always non-offensive, and non-defensive.
((Could you please link this, Osato, Ranger, and Calaelen as well? Gracias!))