Vyshna was born during a time of uncertainty and into a life filled with
turmoil. He was a bastard child with no direction or potential. As his
earlier years progressed - much slower than his mother wanted - he grew
rebellious and deviant to the ways of his community, often challenging those
who attempted to conform him or discipline him. It wasn't until one day in
his teenage years that he was met by a group of boys who defiled his body
and left him for dead. It was a dark moment for him, and the world seemed
even more hopeless. His near lifeless body laid battered and broken on a
muddy road when the last thing he saw was an old, white-bearded man leaning
over him with a smile. He awoke to find himself in a straw-covered hut in
the middle of a well-lit meadow. The grass whistled and tranquility was
ever-present. It was the first time Vyshna had ever felt at peace. A
stern, elderly voice spoke from behind "Ah, your heart is finally at ease
Vyshna." Vyshna was hesitant and skeptical, but the old man sensed it so.
"When will you see that the potential for your life will be completely
unleashed when you stop leaning solely on anger and resentment to lead your
thoughts. I am old in my days and they are numbered, so I offer you a
single chance to be my disciple and learn all there is to learn about
finding the balance of life." Vyshna fell to his knees at once and bowed
his head in shame. His heart was troubled since his birth and he knew that
he could not live this way anymore. He looked up, tears streaming down his
cheeks and softly said "Master".
Description:
His hard grey eyes are the first thing that you notice as you gaze on this man. Buried in their depth there is more sadness and pain hidden than any person would care to imagine, but it is mixed with a fire of anger, burning from a ferocity deep within his soul. His face is long and slender with a high air that gives him the look of a nobleman, but worn with lines of worry and time that make him look older than his years. His hair flows down past his shoulders, gold tinged with silver. His height of almost six feet, combined with his thin build, gives him a very slender appearance. As you look closer you can see that his small frame hides the strength of his wiry muscles, accustomed to long hours of self-disciplining rituals. He takes long loping strides, every step through marsh and mountains as certain as if he were walking on solid ground. Clad in the standard garb of the monastery in which he belongs, you can only wonder at what this man is destined to be, and what dark secrets he carries with him from his past.
[reply to Kornhole]
[reply to Davairus]