Lucid
04-24-06, 04:48 AM
Name: Rastic
Age: 29
Race: Human
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Eye Colour: Brown
Ht/Wt: 5'9"/160
Occ: Smuggler, bandit, what-have-you and so on.
Personality: Rastic has been through numerous life changing events in his time. They have affected him and molded him into what he is now. What was once a brilliant mind of hope and youth has become a cruel mind of savagery and ruthlessness. He is driven by greed and is indifferent to anyone but himself. He trusts no one and is certainly not to be trusted himself. He lives alone and has no friends, not even among those he works with frequently. His mind is cunning and capable of genius acts of brutality. Rastic is a survivor, emotion rarely enters his thought process and that helps him to see the grand scheme when dealing his business. He is clever and rarely if ever gets the short end of a deal. When he is crossed on a deal, his reaction is swift and fierce. Although he can be angered easily, it is a cold fury that burns with intensity that radiates from his persona. It is not wise to fool with Rastic, and it is the most foolish of all to cross him. Once you have made an enemy of Rastic, you have made an enemy for life.
Appearance: Rastic is a human of 29 years. He is an imposing figure, not from bulk muscle, but that his face reflects the cruelty and mercilessness in his heart. It is common to find a calculated sneer as his expression, either that or a total lack of expression. He stands at 5'9, slightly shorter than the average man and weighs 160 pounds. His frame is athletic and muscular, belying his background as a warrior and soldier. Rastic's face was once considered handsome, but now a scar runs from his left ear to the inside corner of his eye. His nose has been broken several times and it shows. His face is usually covered in a short but thick beard of stubble as he no longer cares for his appearance. On his right forearm, just below his elbow and running at a diagonal from the outside to inside of the forearm is a thin, long scar. The wound that made the scar maimed his right arm. He no longer has absolute control of his right arm and hand. He can still grasp objects, pick things up, and manipulate his digits, but to a degree less. He will never again wield a sword in his right hand, and actions such as opening a door sometimes are difficult. Of course his left hand is free to do all these actions and more with no restriction. The injury forced him to change dominant hands from his right to his left. Rastic has found that although his right arm no longer can hold a sword, it is no less lethal when grasping a knife.
History: Rastic was once a Ranger of Fallien. He was not a hero, nor a commander. He was simply one of their rank, outstanding in the general populace, but nobody special inside the military. This is not to say he did not have promise, for he was young at the time and his superiors had hopes that he would mature into a fine, elite weapon of war. His marksmanship with a bow was slightly better than average, but his swordsmanship was sub-par for the rangers. His true trump was his brilliant mind that could adapt and react to any given situation quickly and effectively, finding the best way to deal with a situation in a matter of minutes, sometimes less. He learned at an accelerated rate and in some cases displayed acts of brilliance bordering on military genius. With time he progressed in his unit and a mission came to him. It was dangerous and risky, but could help his country immensely. He was commanded to infiltrate an allied country and collect all information he could find that would be advantageous to Fallien. He carried out his mission effectively for several months. Around the one year mark of his time in the field he began to feel watched more and more often. He sent a dispatch to his superiors in Fallien, but no response came. He waited a month and a half before attempted to exfiltrate on his own. The agents of foreign government that had been observing him only recently picked him up and after a short but violent street fight, captured and arrested him. During the fight, he was wounded beneath his left eye, but managed to kill two guardsman, and injure one more.
His trial was one sided, the outcome decided before he entered before the judge. He was not allowed to speak on his own behalf and instead interrogated on his mission and the nature of the information he had been collecting. He would not say how long he had been operating for, nor would he give away his own government, still believing that his superiors would send for his rescue. Here was the major turning point in Rastic's life. He faced charges against the state, espionage, the murder of two guards, and assault. He was to die within the week. Left in a small jail cell, betrayed by his homeland, he was left alone for 9 days with his thoughts to himself. During this time his mind bent around his illusions and dreams. He scratched away at his thoughts until he could see what the truth of his situation was. He tried to think his way out, but no amount of reasoning could work him out of his predicament. A cold fury slowly rose within him as the days passed. He was being fed prison rations, and that didn’t help his attitude much either. The bitter betrayal of his city and knowledge of his approaching death molded his mindset to what it is now, survivalistic and ruthless. The day came when he was to be dealt with. He was put on a cart and taken to an arena to fight as a gladiator. His hanging had been changed, the current champion in the arena was so formidable that opponents had to be conscripted.
He squared off with the champion, a burly man wearing full gleaming armor, equipped with both a shield and a sword. Rastic had been given simple leather armor and a hunting knife. The sand burned Rastics feet as the champion circled him in leather sandals. The arena was an oval, full of sand except for a maze comprising a half circle at one end. Its walls were stone, 8 feet high, and within the maze were several lethal surprises. A wrong turn would provide a meal to a hungry animal, or trigger an equally deadly trap. Kicking sand in his opponents eyes, Rastic dashed by the fighter and entered the maze. After turning a corner out of the following champions eyesight, he leapt up on top of the wall and lay in wait. His opponent, burdened by the heavy armor, entered the maze behind him. He wound through the maze cautiously, but never looked up. Rastic fell on the man from above knocking the champion on his back. A brief fight ensued, each man wrestling with the other to gain an advantage in the fight. Rastic targeted the mans helmet time and again before its strap slipped and exposed the champions throat. A flash of warrior insight enlightened the champion to what Rastic meant to do and he changed the angle of his sword to parry Rastics knife at the last moment. The sword slashed Rastics right forearm, but was not enough to stop the hunting knife from spilling out the champions lifeblood. Because this all took place on the floor of the maze, none of the spectators could see the action, but they eagerly waited to see which man would walk bloodied back into the arena as the victor. When no man emerged, officials entered to maze and found the champion slain, his helmet and sword gone. Rastic had taken the sword, a fine blade, and used the heavy helmet to activate a trap door that opened on top of spikes, causing the victim to fall, impaled. By hanging onto the edges of the opened trap door, Rastic had been able to avoid the stakes and land in the cellar of the arena, an area where custodians removed bodies from traps and could lead animals to their places in the maze. Using the cellar to escape the arena undetected, Rastic was able to leave the city before officials could arrange for his capture and proper execution.
After escaping from the city, Rastic neither went home nor sought to pursue the way he had been used, though he does have an unresolved grudge with Fallien. He moved to regions far from his homeland and began to make a living as a trader. He made profit enough to get by but saw an avenue for larger profits in smuggling. Because of a ruthless business ethic and a sharp mind Rastic has done well and kept himself alive. This brings Rastic to the present.
Skills:
~Average knife fighter
~Decent martial arts knowledge
~Infiltration/Survival Training
Equip:
~Hunting Knife (Steel)
~Longsword (Steel)
~All the other things a person normally has, wallet, sleeping roll, money pouch etc etc.
I hope everything is in order the way it should be. One quick question: Who should I talk to if I'm trying to retrieve information from the old Althanas?
Edit: Hope that works better. As for information retrieval, I'm trying to find the profile I originally posted on Althanas. I didn't have it saved so I had to rehaul this profile from awhile ago. But I think I found the thread I was looking for and dropped a reply, thank you for your help.
Age: 29
Race: Human
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Eye Colour: Brown
Ht/Wt: 5'9"/160
Occ: Smuggler, bandit, what-have-you and so on.
Personality: Rastic has been through numerous life changing events in his time. They have affected him and molded him into what he is now. What was once a brilliant mind of hope and youth has become a cruel mind of savagery and ruthlessness. He is driven by greed and is indifferent to anyone but himself. He trusts no one and is certainly not to be trusted himself. He lives alone and has no friends, not even among those he works with frequently. His mind is cunning and capable of genius acts of brutality. Rastic is a survivor, emotion rarely enters his thought process and that helps him to see the grand scheme when dealing his business. He is clever and rarely if ever gets the short end of a deal. When he is crossed on a deal, his reaction is swift and fierce. Although he can be angered easily, it is a cold fury that burns with intensity that radiates from his persona. It is not wise to fool with Rastic, and it is the most foolish of all to cross him. Once you have made an enemy of Rastic, you have made an enemy for life.
Appearance: Rastic is a human of 29 years. He is an imposing figure, not from bulk muscle, but that his face reflects the cruelty and mercilessness in his heart. It is common to find a calculated sneer as his expression, either that or a total lack of expression. He stands at 5'9, slightly shorter than the average man and weighs 160 pounds. His frame is athletic and muscular, belying his background as a warrior and soldier. Rastic's face was once considered handsome, but now a scar runs from his left ear to the inside corner of his eye. His nose has been broken several times and it shows. His face is usually covered in a short but thick beard of stubble as he no longer cares for his appearance. On his right forearm, just below his elbow and running at a diagonal from the outside to inside of the forearm is a thin, long scar. The wound that made the scar maimed his right arm. He no longer has absolute control of his right arm and hand. He can still grasp objects, pick things up, and manipulate his digits, but to a degree less. He will never again wield a sword in his right hand, and actions such as opening a door sometimes are difficult. Of course his left hand is free to do all these actions and more with no restriction. The injury forced him to change dominant hands from his right to his left. Rastic has found that although his right arm no longer can hold a sword, it is no less lethal when grasping a knife.
History: Rastic was once a Ranger of Fallien. He was not a hero, nor a commander. He was simply one of their rank, outstanding in the general populace, but nobody special inside the military. This is not to say he did not have promise, for he was young at the time and his superiors had hopes that he would mature into a fine, elite weapon of war. His marksmanship with a bow was slightly better than average, but his swordsmanship was sub-par for the rangers. His true trump was his brilliant mind that could adapt and react to any given situation quickly and effectively, finding the best way to deal with a situation in a matter of minutes, sometimes less. He learned at an accelerated rate and in some cases displayed acts of brilliance bordering on military genius. With time he progressed in his unit and a mission came to him. It was dangerous and risky, but could help his country immensely. He was commanded to infiltrate an allied country and collect all information he could find that would be advantageous to Fallien. He carried out his mission effectively for several months. Around the one year mark of his time in the field he began to feel watched more and more often. He sent a dispatch to his superiors in Fallien, but no response came. He waited a month and a half before attempted to exfiltrate on his own. The agents of foreign government that had been observing him only recently picked him up and after a short but violent street fight, captured and arrested him. During the fight, he was wounded beneath his left eye, but managed to kill two guardsman, and injure one more.
His trial was one sided, the outcome decided before he entered before the judge. He was not allowed to speak on his own behalf and instead interrogated on his mission and the nature of the information he had been collecting. He would not say how long he had been operating for, nor would he give away his own government, still believing that his superiors would send for his rescue. Here was the major turning point in Rastic's life. He faced charges against the state, espionage, the murder of two guards, and assault. He was to die within the week. Left in a small jail cell, betrayed by his homeland, he was left alone for 9 days with his thoughts to himself. During this time his mind bent around his illusions and dreams. He scratched away at his thoughts until he could see what the truth of his situation was. He tried to think his way out, but no amount of reasoning could work him out of his predicament. A cold fury slowly rose within him as the days passed. He was being fed prison rations, and that didn’t help his attitude much either. The bitter betrayal of his city and knowledge of his approaching death molded his mindset to what it is now, survivalistic and ruthless. The day came when he was to be dealt with. He was put on a cart and taken to an arena to fight as a gladiator. His hanging had been changed, the current champion in the arena was so formidable that opponents had to be conscripted.
He squared off with the champion, a burly man wearing full gleaming armor, equipped with both a shield and a sword. Rastic had been given simple leather armor and a hunting knife. The sand burned Rastics feet as the champion circled him in leather sandals. The arena was an oval, full of sand except for a maze comprising a half circle at one end. Its walls were stone, 8 feet high, and within the maze were several lethal surprises. A wrong turn would provide a meal to a hungry animal, or trigger an equally deadly trap. Kicking sand in his opponents eyes, Rastic dashed by the fighter and entered the maze. After turning a corner out of the following champions eyesight, he leapt up on top of the wall and lay in wait. His opponent, burdened by the heavy armor, entered the maze behind him. He wound through the maze cautiously, but never looked up. Rastic fell on the man from above knocking the champion on his back. A brief fight ensued, each man wrestling with the other to gain an advantage in the fight. Rastic targeted the mans helmet time and again before its strap slipped and exposed the champions throat. A flash of warrior insight enlightened the champion to what Rastic meant to do and he changed the angle of his sword to parry Rastics knife at the last moment. The sword slashed Rastics right forearm, but was not enough to stop the hunting knife from spilling out the champions lifeblood. Because this all took place on the floor of the maze, none of the spectators could see the action, but they eagerly waited to see which man would walk bloodied back into the arena as the victor. When no man emerged, officials entered to maze and found the champion slain, his helmet and sword gone. Rastic had taken the sword, a fine blade, and used the heavy helmet to activate a trap door that opened on top of spikes, causing the victim to fall, impaled. By hanging onto the edges of the opened trap door, Rastic had been able to avoid the stakes and land in the cellar of the arena, an area where custodians removed bodies from traps and could lead animals to their places in the maze. Using the cellar to escape the arena undetected, Rastic was able to leave the city before officials could arrange for his capture and proper execution.
After escaping from the city, Rastic neither went home nor sought to pursue the way he had been used, though he does have an unresolved grudge with Fallien. He moved to regions far from his homeland and began to make a living as a trader. He made profit enough to get by but saw an avenue for larger profits in smuggling. Because of a ruthless business ethic and a sharp mind Rastic has done well and kept himself alive. This brings Rastic to the present.
Skills:
~Average knife fighter
~Decent martial arts knowledge
~Infiltration/Survival Training
Equip:
~Hunting Knife (Steel)
~Longsword (Steel)
~All the other things a person normally has, wallet, sleeping roll, money pouch etc etc.
I hope everything is in order the way it should be. One quick question: Who should I talk to if I'm trying to retrieve information from the old Althanas?
Edit: Hope that works better. As for information retrieval, I'm trying to find the profile I originally posted on Althanas. I didn't have it saved so I had to rehaul this profile from awhile ago. But I think I found the thread I was looking for and dropped a reply, thank you for your help.