Avarice
03-25-06, 03:00 PM
Name: Avarice Kingsley
Race: Half Elf
Gender: Male
Age: 19 years
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 140 lbs.
Hair Color: A plain and easy dark brown.
Eye Color: A surprisingly uncommon hazel.
Appearance:
One of the most characteristic thing about Avarice is his boyish appearance - although 19, he could easily pass for a 16 year old. Despite all of his hardships in life, Avarice maintains a wide, warm, trusting smile, that easily wins over those nearby - mainly because it makes him look to be too much of a greenhorn to be any kind of threat. Avarice's short stature ensures that he'll most always blend into the common Althanian crowd, but when necessary, his body can easily show it's athleticism. Really though, it's his partial elven blood that allows him such feats, and good genes. He has the usual peaked ears that all elves carry, though quite as well as a full blooded elf, but enough to prove his heritage. His face usually always bears a confident smile, as he rarely lets things dishearten him. He likes to wear his hair long, so that it occassionally falls into his face, often helping him to pass by searching guards in the hustle and bustle.
While one would believe that a thief would commonly wear dark colors and nothing else, Avarice doesn't seem to agree. He has an affection for the color blue, and he wears a blue, light sleeveless shirt and a pair of comfortable, light blue shorts beneath a light and flowing tan colored coat, decorated with a few simple designs with yellow thread. A plethora of pockets line the inside of it, in which lay a number of odds and ends, coins of no value in the land of Althanas, a lockpick's kit separated and strewn about, an old worthless coin sharpened to cut pursestrings, and an old gold coin he refuses to part with, which was his first steal.
Personality:
Avarice is a cynical young man with a tongue like acid that knows well enough that you can't take it with you -- but you can have it all in the palms of your hands while you're here. Despite his sour and often dry wit, he's a rather good natured kid who's rarely ever seen in bad spirits or without a smile.Though it often seems as such, he's not so distant that he cares for only himself, but like any other, Avarice comes first and foremost as far as he's concerned.
Despite such a withering view of the world, Avarice enjoys living (which explains his occasional overcautiousness), and believes firmly with all of his being that he's here to simply enjoy life. Thus he takes hold of any vice he can find, from drinking to smoking to gambling to beautiful women.
However, his most consistent vice remains his urge to steal. He thoroughly enjoys challenges, including the underlying challenge of lifting others valuables from them as cleanly as possible. Moreso, he enjoys stealing from others who consider themselves "thieves" and "rogues" in their own right -- but while it frustrates him to no end that his selection of such a people continue to thin out everyday, a challenge of robbing such villains still thrills him and drives him on.
Weapons:
Main Gauche - A simple and plain dagger with a wide, curving, single edged iron blade. Though it's usually used to parry blows instead of delivering them, Avarice stole it from a Jharzid thug and decided to keep it for his own. It's in an unfortunate state of disrepair, it's once impressive and shiny blade splotched with surface rust. It can no longer hold the edge that it once could, and requires frequent sharpening to keep a sufficient edge at all. It's kept sheathed for a good portion of his days in a patchwork leather scabbard on his belt.
Items: All scattered about pockets of his coat are an apprentice's lockpick kit, that he coincidentally stole from a locksmith's apprentice, an old, iron probe used to try and activate some of the more destructive traps before setting them off himself, one worthless coin, with one edge sharpened, various odds ends including buttons and bits of paper with plots written on them, and a supposed map saying to lead to the fabled Treasure Sword, that is written in a strange, flowing script illegible to the thief.
General Skills:
Avarice has promise, but a rough ability with daggers and short blades. While he doesn't have much experience at all using them, and little to no training, in his dexterous hands, they are more than capable. Due in part to his rebelliousness in leaving home, he's become rather skilled at surviving in the wilderness, as well as the use of his surroundings in combat. Having to live off of mainly the bustling streets of Radasanth, Avarice has developed a seemingly natural talent to pick pockets and cut purse strings. Unfortunately, he still gets caught for a good portion of the time, so he tends to out his eyes on a better prize. Considering his extensive rap sheet, one would expect him to have been locked away for some time, but through each of his prison stints, he's been slowly developing an ability to pick locks. The half elf is very sure footed and has good balance, making simple tasks like jumping or climbing easy. His body is quite agile, allowing him to avoid most dangers and making him a pain when it comes to combat.
Combat Skills:
Vitals : :Physical Attack: :
Enough of a skill to set itself apart from his agility or pickpocketing, this attack relies on a dagger with a sharp edge of any sort and careful aiming. It was something that he learned as he realized that his intelligence far surpassed that of his rough housing comrades, Avarice struck a knight beneath a plate of his armor and was surprised to see his movements become even slower. After this, he practiced for many nights (namely on his braindead compadres), attempting to find that magic spot again, but was frustrated each time when a different condition set upon the victim. However, after careful examination, he realized that the dagger strike was alike to a lottery. The condition varied with each applied blow of the dagger. While he still consistently misses that magical spot, there is still a good chance (40%) that he'll strike it.
((Note: It is the opponent's choice, first, to decide if Vitals even hits. Then they have the choice of picking a condition randomly from the list following:
Negatives
Poison - Causes only a brief nausea at the moment, though too much movement may induce regurgitation.
Stone - Causes only a very small amount of paralysis, reducing reflexes and speed to a quarter of their original ability.
Curse - Causes a bit of bad luck, for instance, tripping over a tree branch, stumbling in a strike.
Silence - Causes the target to be incapable of speaking clearly, hindering any vocally triggered spells or techniques.
Darkness - Causes a blurring in the eyes, reducing target's accuracy and precision to a quarter of it's original state.
Confuse - Causes directional disorientation that switches left, right, up, and down slightly.
Positives
Regen - Causes slow regeneration of minor wounds.
Reflect - Causes a faint domed aura to be emitted from the afflicted, turns away level 0 magical projectiles.
Shell - Causes a faint domed aura to be emitted from the afflicted, reduces magical damage by a quarter.
Protect - Causes a faint domed aura to be emitted from the afflicted, reduces physical damage by a quarter.
Haste - Causes reflexes and speed to be raised by a quarter of it's original state.
Critical - Causes an increase of a possibility of dealing a more precise, damaging blow by a fourth of a chance.
Conditions last for one minute (one post), and again, is up to the opponent to choose.))
History:
Avarice's early years were uneventful and very frustrating for the young boy. Born as a bastard in Eluriand, to a diplomat Elven mother and a suave human mercenary, constantly on the move, the boy was degraded by nearly all that he met, alienated by the others his age, simply for the hate of their parents. The children couldn't understand what sort of evil thing he was in their eyes. While he managed, through good fortune, to inherit the good looks of his mother's side of the family, it was consistently commented that he had his father's warm hazel eyes...and his eternally frustrating personality. Avarice was difficult to anger, and when backed into a corner by bullies, always seemed to step away untouched. However, it was often offset by a biting, acerbic tongue, and those that irritated him often felt the burn of it. Unclear from which parent, the boy had received a gift of intelligence. That gift let him see that in the hands of his peers, the future was rather dull for Raiaera.
Detesting the life of a diplomat, Avarice ran from his home and country when he reached his adolescence, and took up a profession that seemed to come natural; stealing. Picking pockets on the streets of Radasanth, barely escaping bazaar streets in Alerar with pockets and arms full of fruits, or stealing small glass trinkets from the glassblowers in Fallien, he'd seemed to find his niche. But the world was a hard place, especially for a thief. It became painfully obvious when the boy found himself locked away with a twenty year sentence when his partner in a heist ratted him out. As resourceful as he was, Avarice managed to escape before staying for a week, but he knew now that he'd simply be a wandering thug, of the sort you see twenty years later with mossy teeth and only one good eye, if he continued to work with unsolicited partners.
So Avarice sought out a nameless, low level band of theives and proved himself to them in a few unorthodox hazing rituals, including combat with one of the members. It was a long time afterwards before the boy saw the cold, gray walls of a jail cell again, and when he did, he was easily rescued by his band. Life was suddenly easy and smooth and everything that he saw was his for the taking. It wasn't long before delusions of grandeur set in, a condition suffered by many a young person, and that rule of his own came to encompass everything.
Everything you see is your's for the taking.
Even the band's leader's wife.
Behind the man's back, Avarice courted the woman, did his best to seduce her. In the end, when he'd slept with her on a few different, and namely for him, memorable occasions, they were caught in the middle of their little affair, and it was brought to the light. The thieve's leader was suddenly flustered. Furious that his wife had been with another, stressed at the pressures of the others to kill Avarice, frightened to lose one of the band's most valuable members. In the end, he caved, and challenged the boy to a duel at dark, to regain his honor. That honor died with him.
A few weeks ago, one of the band's members had been captured. just as Avarice was caught, they had been planning to rescue the other. Tortured and forced to confess his crimes and lead the authorities to the others, the band was ambushed by a troop of knights. Surrounded, they were slaughtered as they tried to fight for their freedom. However, unlike the others, Avarice wasn't foolish, and surrendered, only to be jailed in a cell with laughable locks. Escape was easy, and he vanished into the night.
Afterwards he wandered from band to band, but each felt empty, hollow. He knew that he was missing something, though it wasn't any sort of sense of family or friendship, as he didn't even have with his first band, It was something else, something fleeting and shallow and perhaps even foolish. The young and the restless often sought it, and it wasn't long after his nineteenth birthday that he grasped it.
Fame, money, power.
He realized that by saddling up with these bands of theives, living under the rule of some supposed King of Theives, little more than the man all else in that band idolized, he was only minimalizing his chances at having a full life. Donning his own clothes, and not some uniform set upon him by others, Avarice stepped into Althanas as his own man. But like it was five years ago...it wasn't easy. The world was hard, especially for a thief. He was still only wandering the Bazaars of Radasanth, bumping into people and walking away with little to no money, all of it spent by the former on some shining new trinket. But it was on these bustling streets of the Bazaar, Avarice saw his chance. The Jharzid clan, an extensive clan of cutthroats and thieves set upon the marketplace with their first yearly heist. Zealous vigilantes and supposed heroes quickly foiled their plan, which included Avarice, who was more intent on robbing them than stopping them. However, they didn't shackle all of them. It was said that the Jharzid clan held perhaps half of the treasures in the world in the vaults beneath their various hideouts. Cloaked in standard Jharzid black, with a knife wrested from the hands of one of their very own comrades, Avarice stowed away on their boat, and followed them all the way to dry, sandy, unforgiving, miserable Fallien.
Race: Half Elf
Gender: Male
Age: 19 years
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 140 lbs.
Hair Color: A plain and easy dark brown.
Eye Color: A surprisingly uncommon hazel.
Appearance:
One of the most characteristic thing about Avarice is his boyish appearance - although 19, he could easily pass for a 16 year old. Despite all of his hardships in life, Avarice maintains a wide, warm, trusting smile, that easily wins over those nearby - mainly because it makes him look to be too much of a greenhorn to be any kind of threat. Avarice's short stature ensures that he'll most always blend into the common Althanian crowd, but when necessary, his body can easily show it's athleticism. Really though, it's his partial elven blood that allows him such feats, and good genes. He has the usual peaked ears that all elves carry, though quite as well as a full blooded elf, but enough to prove his heritage. His face usually always bears a confident smile, as he rarely lets things dishearten him. He likes to wear his hair long, so that it occassionally falls into his face, often helping him to pass by searching guards in the hustle and bustle.
While one would believe that a thief would commonly wear dark colors and nothing else, Avarice doesn't seem to agree. He has an affection for the color blue, and he wears a blue, light sleeveless shirt and a pair of comfortable, light blue shorts beneath a light and flowing tan colored coat, decorated with a few simple designs with yellow thread. A plethora of pockets line the inside of it, in which lay a number of odds and ends, coins of no value in the land of Althanas, a lockpick's kit separated and strewn about, an old worthless coin sharpened to cut pursestrings, and an old gold coin he refuses to part with, which was his first steal.
Personality:
Avarice is a cynical young man with a tongue like acid that knows well enough that you can't take it with you -- but you can have it all in the palms of your hands while you're here. Despite his sour and often dry wit, he's a rather good natured kid who's rarely ever seen in bad spirits or without a smile.Though it often seems as such, he's not so distant that he cares for only himself, but like any other, Avarice comes first and foremost as far as he's concerned.
Despite such a withering view of the world, Avarice enjoys living (which explains his occasional overcautiousness), and believes firmly with all of his being that he's here to simply enjoy life. Thus he takes hold of any vice he can find, from drinking to smoking to gambling to beautiful women.
However, his most consistent vice remains his urge to steal. He thoroughly enjoys challenges, including the underlying challenge of lifting others valuables from them as cleanly as possible. Moreso, he enjoys stealing from others who consider themselves "thieves" and "rogues" in their own right -- but while it frustrates him to no end that his selection of such a people continue to thin out everyday, a challenge of robbing such villains still thrills him and drives him on.
Weapons:
Main Gauche - A simple and plain dagger with a wide, curving, single edged iron blade. Though it's usually used to parry blows instead of delivering them, Avarice stole it from a Jharzid thug and decided to keep it for his own. It's in an unfortunate state of disrepair, it's once impressive and shiny blade splotched with surface rust. It can no longer hold the edge that it once could, and requires frequent sharpening to keep a sufficient edge at all. It's kept sheathed for a good portion of his days in a patchwork leather scabbard on his belt.
Items: All scattered about pockets of his coat are an apprentice's lockpick kit, that he coincidentally stole from a locksmith's apprentice, an old, iron probe used to try and activate some of the more destructive traps before setting them off himself, one worthless coin, with one edge sharpened, various odds ends including buttons and bits of paper with plots written on them, and a supposed map saying to lead to the fabled Treasure Sword, that is written in a strange, flowing script illegible to the thief.
General Skills:
Avarice has promise, but a rough ability with daggers and short blades. While he doesn't have much experience at all using them, and little to no training, in his dexterous hands, they are more than capable. Due in part to his rebelliousness in leaving home, he's become rather skilled at surviving in the wilderness, as well as the use of his surroundings in combat. Having to live off of mainly the bustling streets of Radasanth, Avarice has developed a seemingly natural talent to pick pockets and cut purse strings. Unfortunately, he still gets caught for a good portion of the time, so he tends to out his eyes on a better prize. Considering his extensive rap sheet, one would expect him to have been locked away for some time, but through each of his prison stints, he's been slowly developing an ability to pick locks. The half elf is very sure footed and has good balance, making simple tasks like jumping or climbing easy. His body is quite agile, allowing him to avoid most dangers and making him a pain when it comes to combat.
Combat Skills:
Vitals : :Physical Attack: :
Enough of a skill to set itself apart from his agility or pickpocketing, this attack relies on a dagger with a sharp edge of any sort and careful aiming. It was something that he learned as he realized that his intelligence far surpassed that of his rough housing comrades, Avarice struck a knight beneath a plate of his armor and was surprised to see his movements become even slower. After this, he practiced for many nights (namely on his braindead compadres), attempting to find that magic spot again, but was frustrated each time when a different condition set upon the victim. However, after careful examination, he realized that the dagger strike was alike to a lottery. The condition varied with each applied blow of the dagger. While he still consistently misses that magical spot, there is still a good chance (40%) that he'll strike it.
((Note: It is the opponent's choice, first, to decide if Vitals even hits. Then they have the choice of picking a condition randomly from the list following:
Negatives
Poison - Causes only a brief nausea at the moment, though too much movement may induce regurgitation.
Stone - Causes only a very small amount of paralysis, reducing reflexes and speed to a quarter of their original ability.
Curse - Causes a bit of bad luck, for instance, tripping over a tree branch, stumbling in a strike.
Silence - Causes the target to be incapable of speaking clearly, hindering any vocally triggered spells or techniques.
Darkness - Causes a blurring in the eyes, reducing target's accuracy and precision to a quarter of it's original state.
Confuse - Causes directional disorientation that switches left, right, up, and down slightly.
Positives
Regen - Causes slow regeneration of minor wounds.
Reflect - Causes a faint domed aura to be emitted from the afflicted, turns away level 0 magical projectiles.
Shell - Causes a faint domed aura to be emitted from the afflicted, reduces magical damage by a quarter.
Protect - Causes a faint domed aura to be emitted from the afflicted, reduces physical damage by a quarter.
Haste - Causes reflexes and speed to be raised by a quarter of it's original state.
Critical - Causes an increase of a possibility of dealing a more precise, damaging blow by a fourth of a chance.
Conditions last for one minute (one post), and again, is up to the opponent to choose.))
History:
Avarice's early years were uneventful and very frustrating for the young boy. Born as a bastard in Eluriand, to a diplomat Elven mother and a suave human mercenary, constantly on the move, the boy was degraded by nearly all that he met, alienated by the others his age, simply for the hate of their parents. The children couldn't understand what sort of evil thing he was in their eyes. While he managed, through good fortune, to inherit the good looks of his mother's side of the family, it was consistently commented that he had his father's warm hazel eyes...and his eternally frustrating personality. Avarice was difficult to anger, and when backed into a corner by bullies, always seemed to step away untouched. However, it was often offset by a biting, acerbic tongue, and those that irritated him often felt the burn of it. Unclear from which parent, the boy had received a gift of intelligence. That gift let him see that in the hands of his peers, the future was rather dull for Raiaera.
Detesting the life of a diplomat, Avarice ran from his home and country when he reached his adolescence, and took up a profession that seemed to come natural; stealing. Picking pockets on the streets of Radasanth, barely escaping bazaar streets in Alerar with pockets and arms full of fruits, or stealing small glass trinkets from the glassblowers in Fallien, he'd seemed to find his niche. But the world was a hard place, especially for a thief. It became painfully obvious when the boy found himself locked away with a twenty year sentence when his partner in a heist ratted him out. As resourceful as he was, Avarice managed to escape before staying for a week, but he knew now that he'd simply be a wandering thug, of the sort you see twenty years later with mossy teeth and only one good eye, if he continued to work with unsolicited partners.
So Avarice sought out a nameless, low level band of theives and proved himself to them in a few unorthodox hazing rituals, including combat with one of the members. It was a long time afterwards before the boy saw the cold, gray walls of a jail cell again, and when he did, he was easily rescued by his band. Life was suddenly easy and smooth and everything that he saw was his for the taking. It wasn't long before delusions of grandeur set in, a condition suffered by many a young person, and that rule of his own came to encompass everything.
Everything you see is your's for the taking.
Even the band's leader's wife.
Behind the man's back, Avarice courted the woman, did his best to seduce her. In the end, when he'd slept with her on a few different, and namely for him, memorable occasions, they were caught in the middle of their little affair, and it was brought to the light. The thieve's leader was suddenly flustered. Furious that his wife had been with another, stressed at the pressures of the others to kill Avarice, frightened to lose one of the band's most valuable members. In the end, he caved, and challenged the boy to a duel at dark, to regain his honor. That honor died with him.
A few weeks ago, one of the band's members had been captured. just as Avarice was caught, they had been planning to rescue the other. Tortured and forced to confess his crimes and lead the authorities to the others, the band was ambushed by a troop of knights. Surrounded, they were slaughtered as they tried to fight for their freedom. However, unlike the others, Avarice wasn't foolish, and surrendered, only to be jailed in a cell with laughable locks. Escape was easy, and he vanished into the night.
Afterwards he wandered from band to band, but each felt empty, hollow. He knew that he was missing something, though it wasn't any sort of sense of family or friendship, as he didn't even have with his first band, It was something else, something fleeting and shallow and perhaps even foolish. The young and the restless often sought it, and it wasn't long after his nineteenth birthday that he grasped it.
Fame, money, power.
He realized that by saddling up with these bands of theives, living under the rule of some supposed King of Theives, little more than the man all else in that band idolized, he was only minimalizing his chances at having a full life. Donning his own clothes, and not some uniform set upon him by others, Avarice stepped into Althanas as his own man. But like it was five years ago...it wasn't easy. The world was hard, especially for a thief. He was still only wandering the Bazaars of Radasanth, bumping into people and walking away with little to no money, all of it spent by the former on some shining new trinket. But it was on these bustling streets of the Bazaar, Avarice saw his chance. The Jharzid clan, an extensive clan of cutthroats and thieves set upon the marketplace with their first yearly heist. Zealous vigilantes and supposed heroes quickly foiled their plan, which included Avarice, who was more intent on robbing them than stopping them. However, they didn't shackle all of them. It was said that the Jharzid clan held perhaps half of the treasures in the world in the vaults beneath their various hideouts. Cloaked in standard Jharzid black, with a knife wrested from the hands of one of their very own comrades, Avarice stowed away on their boat, and followed them all the way to dry, sandy, unforgiving, miserable Fallien.