Twinight
07-13-07, 08:49 PM
Name: Miyr Wyversing
Race: Mereling
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Height: 5’7
Weight: 145lbs
General Description: Appears to be nothing more than a simple boy, until a closer examination reveals awkward reptilian slit-eyes and claws instead of fingernails. Touching his skin would prove an interesting sensation for it is tough like the hide of an animal. Other than these abnormalities, the boy has smooth blonde hair that falls only as far as his ears, slightly curly and somehow always cute. His skin has a dark tone to it, like those whom live in more southern regions, yet not dark enough to be a chocolate or ebony shade. Still boyish, despite his age, his frame is thin yet strong, and it’s obvious that his life isn’t exactly lazy and laid back, for mostly all of the muscles in his body are well defined.
The boy tends to wear very casual commoner’s clothing, simple cloth shirts and pants. He has taken to a liking with foreigner clothing that has come from other worlds or other dimensions, like the ‘jeans’ he finds on market often in the Bazaar. Only owning one pair of the blue pants, however, it ends up being the only thing he wears, and thus rather dirty. The boy is never seen wearing shoes, and it’s easily assumed that he never has worn any, and probably never will.
Racial Description: The Mereling lineage dates back to nearly ancient times, despite their numbers always being very slim. Once humans, they had made a pact with a strange creature that had come from another world. When the pact was signed, the man’s family and all of his children and children’s children from there on were slowly changed into the strange creatures they began to call Merelings. With resemblances to dragon kin, Merelings have strange affinity to cold temperatures and have talents that most humans do not. Mature Merelings even begin to grow a special gland in their lungs which secretes a liquid turning their breath into a frigid, freezing breeze. One of their earlier stages of maturity however is the ability to grow wings. These wings are always present, but seem to be an ethereal sort that are incapable of being seen by the casual eye until summoned. A Mereling’s body will glow with a soft blue light and the feathered wings will appear in a flash when summoned, or needed, and they often seem to have a mind of their own and act on instinct, appearing when the Mereling is in dire need.
Merelings live to a very great age, and their physical forms seem to slow in aging after reaching full maturity, around twenty-five years after birth. Most of their more strange developments happen very late in their maturity, and sometimes don’t surface until brought out by some great need.
It is interesting to note that though the Mereling’s wings are not actually made of flesh and bone, the Mereling can feel them as if they were when the wings are out. If they are damaged or destroyed, it causes incredible pain to the Mereling, but in time the wings will grow back and be able to be summoned again.
Feats:
Resistance to Cold: Merelings are almost entirely resistant to cold, and can even be frozen alive without taking much ill effect. Upon thawing, their body will automatically resuscitate. Magical cold has more effect on them, but there is still a very minor resistance to it. Temperatures will not have an ill effect on them unless they begin reaching far negatives [Fahrenheit].
Weakness to Heat: In contrast to their extreme resistance to cold, any temperatures above 90 degrees Fahrenheit will rather quickly begin to cause a Mereling great distress. The Mereling’s body will dehydrate much faster than a human’s, and break down within hours of being in such temperatures. Flame sears their skin much easier, as well, and magical fire has such adverse effect on them that it is nearly lethal even in small and weak amounts.
Flight: Being one of the most prominent abilities of the Mereling is their ability to, at will, summon their astral wings and take flight. It is difficult for Miyr to take flight from ground level as he is not yet used to his wings. Leaping from a tall place or having a good wind will however let him fly quite high and quite far.
Magic Affinity: Like a moth to the flame, Merelings are quite attracted to magic and all magical things, yet are greatly harmed by it, more so than most creatures. A simple magical attack could cause devastating and unexpected effects on them. Merelings are, however, able to sense people and objects that have magical power. The stronger the power, the easier they are to sense. By instinct, they are drawn to things with high magical power, though never sure why. It is common for a Mereling to collect magical objects, even useless trinkets, just because of pure instinct.
The Lineage of a Search:
The old man’s joints creaked as he moved forward in his chair, a happy grin spread across his face. Before him sat a few boys, each of them too young to even feel the magic in the air. Reaching to a table at his side, the slow and shaking hands of the elderly Mereling lifted a massive leather-bound tome and rested it on his lap. With an unconscious flourish, he flipped the pages of the ancient book until it lay open nearly halfway through. Coughing a few times and clearing his throat, he began to speak, in a hoarse but powerful voice. Such a voice that draws the mind open and pulls the listener into every word being spoken.
“There are tales of the past, when we were but men, when the clouds hovered above and the ground was our only home. Tales that tell of great heroes and extraordinary conflicts, clashing of titans and blood-hungry monsters. These are the tales that we cherish, yes, but there is one among them that stands above the rest.”
“Stories tell of her as a marvelous huntress that sought out a fabled white stag, for a spirit had told her that if she caught it, she would be the greatest Huntress. She tracked it for years through endless forests, plains, and mountains, spotting it now and again but never growing close enough to shoot it down with her great bow. They traveled, prey and predator, across all the lands, a battle of wits and cunning that seemed at a stalemate. However, the Huntress did not give up, and harder and harder she tried to outwit the stag, to catch it with a trap or find some way to get ahead of it, until one day she did.”
“As they came to a cliff, standing at the edge of the world, the stag had nowhere left to run. Watching her with it’s golden eyes, the beast then spoke softly to her, ‘Why do you hunt me so?’ it asked. Drawing her bow and a silver arrow she had saved just for it, she responded with a calm cool voice, ‘Because I have hunted all else, and found nothing that count outsmart me. You, my friend, are my greatest prey, and deserve to be hunted.’ And with that, she shot her arrow.”
The old Mereling stopped for a moment, coughing and turning a page in the book. Though he had never even glanced down at the words, he still kept his page. The children had their breath drawn, waiting for the story to continue. With a pat on the book that was older than even he, the elder continued.
“It flew true, her silver arrow, and aimed for the heart of the beast, to bring it down with a single shot. Yet, as it grew near, the beast leapt into the air, moonlit feathered wings bursting from it’s back. With a single strong stroke of it’s great wings it flew, high into the air and away from the Huntress, leaving her in awe of it’s beauty. The stag circled thrice, then disappeared into the clouds.”
“Dismayed by her loss, the Huntress remained on that cliff, setting camp and gathering food, unsure of what to do next. For, she could no longer follow the Stag, since it had taken to the skies. That night, as the Huntress stood on the cliff, she spoke into the sea, hoping that one of the spirits would hear her plea and answer. ‘Oh, powerful spirits,’ she cried, ‘I am a humble Huntress and plea for you to give me aid. My prey, the beautiful white stag, has taken to the skies, and I cannot follow. Give me another chance to catch the stag, I beg of you.’ And so, as the spirits of the ocean took pity of her, they spoke to the spirits of the sky. In response, the Huntress grew a set of beautiful glowing blue wings and was instantly lifted into the air. The spirits caressed her and drew her higher, a strong wind sending her skyward.”
“Softly, a voice whispered in her ear, ‘The White Stag calls it’s home the Tower of Twinight, it’s there that you will find it. Seek the Tower of Twinight, in the vast skies, for your destiny awaits’. And so, the hunt began again.”
The elder stopped again, and closed the book. All of the children before him whom had been on edge the entire time sighed and moaned. They wanted more stories, but they knew the old man would only tell one at a time. With a smile, he finished the story as he always did, in a well remembered tone as if he had been there and had seen it.
“The Huntress searched for the Tower of Twinight for many more years, but never found it. She never saw the fabled White Stag again, and one day gave up in her searches. When her children were shown to be gifted with the same powers as she, she knew that one day, one of her descendants would find the Tower. Every generation a handful of young Merelings, boys and girls alike, leave our village in search of the Tower. Some never return, those who do bring new stories and new wonders into our valley, and it’s a great occasion. One day, some of you will leave us to search for the Tower. But, that day isn’t today, so go to bed, children, your parents will be waiting.”
With more moans and happy sighs, the children slowly dispersed from the old man’s house and went their separate ways. Moving through the twilight, they each found their own homes in the small village and went to sleep.
Ten years later, one of those boys left the village in search of the Tower of Twinight, along with a handful of friends. They parted and went their separate ways, taking flight from the high mountains, he flew with the hope that he would one day be able to return telling of how he had found the Tower.
Race: Mereling
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Height: 5’7
Weight: 145lbs
General Description: Appears to be nothing more than a simple boy, until a closer examination reveals awkward reptilian slit-eyes and claws instead of fingernails. Touching his skin would prove an interesting sensation for it is tough like the hide of an animal. Other than these abnormalities, the boy has smooth blonde hair that falls only as far as his ears, slightly curly and somehow always cute. His skin has a dark tone to it, like those whom live in more southern regions, yet not dark enough to be a chocolate or ebony shade. Still boyish, despite his age, his frame is thin yet strong, and it’s obvious that his life isn’t exactly lazy and laid back, for mostly all of the muscles in his body are well defined.
The boy tends to wear very casual commoner’s clothing, simple cloth shirts and pants. He has taken to a liking with foreigner clothing that has come from other worlds or other dimensions, like the ‘jeans’ he finds on market often in the Bazaar. Only owning one pair of the blue pants, however, it ends up being the only thing he wears, and thus rather dirty. The boy is never seen wearing shoes, and it’s easily assumed that he never has worn any, and probably never will.
Racial Description: The Mereling lineage dates back to nearly ancient times, despite their numbers always being very slim. Once humans, they had made a pact with a strange creature that had come from another world. When the pact was signed, the man’s family and all of his children and children’s children from there on were slowly changed into the strange creatures they began to call Merelings. With resemblances to dragon kin, Merelings have strange affinity to cold temperatures and have talents that most humans do not. Mature Merelings even begin to grow a special gland in their lungs which secretes a liquid turning their breath into a frigid, freezing breeze. One of their earlier stages of maturity however is the ability to grow wings. These wings are always present, but seem to be an ethereal sort that are incapable of being seen by the casual eye until summoned. A Mereling’s body will glow with a soft blue light and the feathered wings will appear in a flash when summoned, or needed, and they often seem to have a mind of their own and act on instinct, appearing when the Mereling is in dire need.
Merelings live to a very great age, and their physical forms seem to slow in aging after reaching full maturity, around twenty-five years after birth. Most of their more strange developments happen very late in their maturity, and sometimes don’t surface until brought out by some great need.
It is interesting to note that though the Mereling’s wings are not actually made of flesh and bone, the Mereling can feel them as if they were when the wings are out. If they are damaged or destroyed, it causes incredible pain to the Mereling, but in time the wings will grow back and be able to be summoned again.
Feats:
Resistance to Cold: Merelings are almost entirely resistant to cold, and can even be frozen alive without taking much ill effect. Upon thawing, their body will automatically resuscitate. Magical cold has more effect on them, but there is still a very minor resistance to it. Temperatures will not have an ill effect on them unless they begin reaching far negatives [Fahrenheit].
Weakness to Heat: In contrast to their extreme resistance to cold, any temperatures above 90 degrees Fahrenheit will rather quickly begin to cause a Mereling great distress. The Mereling’s body will dehydrate much faster than a human’s, and break down within hours of being in such temperatures. Flame sears their skin much easier, as well, and magical fire has such adverse effect on them that it is nearly lethal even in small and weak amounts.
Flight: Being one of the most prominent abilities of the Mereling is their ability to, at will, summon their astral wings and take flight. It is difficult for Miyr to take flight from ground level as he is not yet used to his wings. Leaping from a tall place or having a good wind will however let him fly quite high and quite far.
Magic Affinity: Like a moth to the flame, Merelings are quite attracted to magic and all magical things, yet are greatly harmed by it, more so than most creatures. A simple magical attack could cause devastating and unexpected effects on them. Merelings are, however, able to sense people and objects that have magical power. The stronger the power, the easier they are to sense. By instinct, they are drawn to things with high magical power, though never sure why. It is common for a Mereling to collect magical objects, even useless trinkets, just because of pure instinct.
The Lineage of a Search:
The old man’s joints creaked as he moved forward in his chair, a happy grin spread across his face. Before him sat a few boys, each of them too young to even feel the magic in the air. Reaching to a table at his side, the slow and shaking hands of the elderly Mereling lifted a massive leather-bound tome and rested it on his lap. With an unconscious flourish, he flipped the pages of the ancient book until it lay open nearly halfway through. Coughing a few times and clearing his throat, he began to speak, in a hoarse but powerful voice. Such a voice that draws the mind open and pulls the listener into every word being spoken.
“There are tales of the past, when we were but men, when the clouds hovered above and the ground was our only home. Tales that tell of great heroes and extraordinary conflicts, clashing of titans and blood-hungry monsters. These are the tales that we cherish, yes, but there is one among them that stands above the rest.”
“Stories tell of her as a marvelous huntress that sought out a fabled white stag, for a spirit had told her that if she caught it, she would be the greatest Huntress. She tracked it for years through endless forests, plains, and mountains, spotting it now and again but never growing close enough to shoot it down with her great bow. They traveled, prey and predator, across all the lands, a battle of wits and cunning that seemed at a stalemate. However, the Huntress did not give up, and harder and harder she tried to outwit the stag, to catch it with a trap or find some way to get ahead of it, until one day she did.”
“As they came to a cliff, standing at the edge of the world, the stag had nowhere left to run. Watching her with it’s golden eyes, the beast then spoke softly to her, ‘Why do you hunt me so?’ it asked. Drawing her bow and a silver arrow she had saved just for it, she responded with a calm cool voice, ‘Because I have hunted all else, and found nothing that count outsmart me. You, my friend, are my greatest prey, and deserve to be hunted.’ And with that, she shot her arrow.”
The old Mereling stopped for a moment, coughing and turning a page in the book. Though he had never even glanced down at the words, he still kept his page. The children had their breath drawn, waiting for the story to continue. With a pat on the book that was older than even he, the elder continued.
“It flew true, her silver arrow, and aimed for the heart of the beast, to bring it down with a single shot. Yet, as it grew near, the beast leapt into the air, moonlit feathered wings bursting from it’s back. With a single strong stroke of it’s great wings it flew, high into the air and away from the Huntress, leaving her in awe of it’s beauty. The stag circled thrice, then disappeared into the clouds.”
“Dismayed by her loss, the Huntress remained on that cliff, setting camp and gathering food, unsure of what to do next. For, she could no longer follow the Stag, since it had taken to the skies. That night, as the Huntress stood on the cliff, she spoke into the sea, hoping that one of the spirits would hear her plea and answer. ‘Oh, powerful spirits,’ she cried, ‘I am a humble Huntress and plea for you to give me aid. My prey, the beautiful white stag, has taken to the skies, and I cannot follow. Give me another chance to catch the stag, I beg of you.’ And so, as the spirits of the ocean took pity of her, they spoke to the spirits of the sky. In response, the Huntress grew a set of beautiful glowing blue wings and was instantly lifted into the air. The spirits caressed her and drew her higher, a strong wind sending her skyward.”
“Softly, a voice whispered in her ear, ‘The White Stag calls it’s home the Tower of Twinight, it’s there that you will find it. Seek the Tower of Twinight, in the vast skies, for your destiny awaits’. And so, the hunt began again.”
The elder stopped again, and closed the book. All of the children before him whom had been on edge the entire time sighed and moaned. They wanted more stories, but they knew the old man would only tell one at a time. With a smile, he finished the story as he always did, in a well remembered tone as if he had been there and had seen it.
“The Huntress searched for the Tower of Twinight for many more years, but never found it. She never saw the fabled White Stag again, and one day gave up in her searches. When her children were shown to be gifted with the same powers as she, she knew that one day, one of her descendants would find the Tower. Every generation a handful of young Merelings, boys and girls alike, leave our village in search of the Tower. Some never return, those who do bring new stories and new wonders into our valley, and it’s a great occasion. One day, some of you will leave us to search for the Tower. But, that day isn’t today, so go to bed, children, your parents will be waiting.”
With more moans and happy sighs, the children slowly dispersed from the old man’s house and went their separate ways. Moving through the twilight, they each found their own homes in the small village and went to sleep.
Ten years later, one of those boys left the village in search of the Tower of Twinight, along with a handful of friends. They parted and went their separate ways, taking flight from the high mountains, he flew with the hope that he would one day be able to return telling of how he had found the Tower.