Gairn Beirst an only child, raised in a far away village, across a vast
ocean, was aware that his family was different. Strange even. The little
community of fisherman to which he belonged seldom dealt well with the
strange, but he and his family were tolerated. It was for his grandmother,
Sarah's sake, Gairn knew this. She had been at the center of a great
miracle, at around the same age as Gairn's own, five or so. Despite the
cautious celebrity of his grandmother, each member of the family since that
fateful day could do things that were only described as mystical, or magic.
Being a people of small means, such magic was foreign to them and so they
held it in a fearful awe.
As is the way with such things, things that scare the community are out
casted or shunned. It was not until his own birth, that the villagers and
even his own family understood the reason for these seeming abilities. When
Sarah was touched by the boy who had injured her and healed in that way, the
God of Storms had put inside of her and her lineage a powerful gift. The
villagers, of course, would not have described it so. They would have said
a strange spell had been placed upon the family and now they were blessed,
or cursed, with gifts.
The custom of his village was such that around the fifth year of life,
children were placed with those who knew a profession. Fisherman, net
mender, boat captain and the like. For Gairn it was different. He was sent
away, as the boy a generation ago had been, to study and fulfill an
obligation. The villagers only knew, that the strange boy with the intense
stare would be gone from among them, until the next time the Storm blew
home.
Description:
He is a solemn looking man, his dark brown eyes gather his surroundings
with a measured sweep, as if he is categorizing each individual thing he
looks upon, filing it away and moving to the next. Upon his head is a thick
curled mass of sun-lightened hair, the longest portion of which is pulled
back into a warriors knot. The exposed skin of his body is dark, from long
days out of doors and it has taken its toll upon the skin of his face, which
bears scars and wrinkles, a historical manuscript, if one could only read
it. The frame of his body is long, bordering on the lanky. He is muscled,
of that there is no doubt, but it seems to be of a tendon strength, rather
than the strength of bulging muscles. As he walks, it is with a grace,
though hobbled by the certain bow legged nature of a horseman.
I fought you so much on so many characters it hurts. I'll kill you sometime. it's coming
this was a good character. the reason we never talk is because I won't really talk to someone until after I kill them. unless you engage me. neither really happened. maybe just a bit more activity :P
Faelon
0 , 0 , 0 .
Yeah. I didn't play as much as I thought I would. I tried to be around recently, but it wasn't enough.
Like I said, some really good fights. I enjoyed them all.
Thanks for all the fun adventures! Learned so much from you.
[reply to Shin]
[reply to Kedaleam]
Phahdrah was great fighting you, enjoyed them.
[reply to Faelon]
this was a good character. the reason we never talk is because I won't really talk to someone until after I kill them. unless you engage me. neither really happened. maybe just a bit more activity :P
Faelon 0 , 0 , 0 . Yeah. I didn't play as much as I thought I would. I tried to be around recently, but it wasn't enough.
[reply to tayyah]Like I said, some really good fights. I enjoyed them all.