Havoc

[Havoc]

Havoc Race: Kelvic [Horse, Bloodbane] Gender: male Age: 4 Birthday: 37 Winter, 509. Birthplace: Ravok Appearance Human: Hair: Brown, long Eyes: Brown Height: 6'1" Build: Athletic Horse: Color: Dark bay with black points, white star Height: 16 hands Build: powerful Character Concept They say that I am a rare breed, but I’m not so sure. It’s true that in my years, I have not encountered any others like myself - that is, Kelvic, and a Bloodbane in animal form. But I think there must be others like me, out there somewhere, staying hidden, away from these sadistic tyrants. Running free, perhaps, and not a slave. They say that I’m a savage one, a fierce one, and often in need of discipline. But I say, look at me! When I run on four legs, what am I – other than what you monsters have bred? And when I walk on two feet? They have only compounded my ferocity. It’s true, I don’t like to be controlled. None of my kind do – that is, my animal kind, we horses that eat flesh with an avid hunger much akin to a wolf. And like a wolf, I am wild. I have no bond mate to claim my loyalty and devotion - no master other than these brutes. I obey because I must. And that is their doing, entirely. Character History I was born in the city, in Ravok itself. My parents were Kelvic, as I am, but not Bloodbanes, for of course, our kind seldom breed true. My father’s animal form was that of an ocelot, my mother’s a weasel. They came from the slave pens, or so I was told, and spent most of their time in human form, serving as domestics in one of the lesser houses of the nobility of the city. I was a third child for them, my elder siblings already sold off before I came along. When I first began to shift, it was not quite apparent that I was of the Ravokian breed of horse, until I wolfed down my first rat, which I had trapped under one sharp hoof. My intractable and vicious character was the other clue to my nature, and my owner was quite amazed, and glad, that he had garnered such a prize. When I was two, he sold me to a more prestigious family of the city, for a hefty sum. No doubt he was happy to get such a wretched creature out of his home. I fear I was as ferocious in my human child form as I tended to be as a foal, and then a yearling. My first two years had been blissful, I soon discovered, compared to the existence I was to endure in the home of my new masters – the Lazarin family. Known for their cruel and brutal treatment of their household and personal slaves, even my rarity and value was not enough to spare me the punishments they were quick to mete out for every and any indiscretion and mistake I made. They certainly were expert in all manners of ‘discipline’ that would exact the required behavior without outright killing or maiming. My fiery temper was not tamed but I quickly learned to control it, for my own good. I was not given over to the service of any one member of this powerful family, for reasons that were already clear to me, for it had been the same in my old master’s house. He had not wished for me to bond at such an early age, knowing my worth would be far greater if I was allowed to mature, and he had ordered that I be kept in those parts of the house that were frequented only by the other kelvic slaves he owned – including my parents and a few others. My duties there had been light – being tasked to simply help out around the kitchen and with household tasks. The Lazarins, though, had something else entirely in mind for me. They too kept me isolated, for the most part. When not enduring some aspect of my new training, I was locked away in one of the rooms given over to the household slaves for sleeping. My solitude made the days long and dreary, and heightened my appetite for those hours wherein I was freed to learn the arts of war. With all that pent up energy, I was ferocious in my thirst to release it – resulting in frequent outbursts of defiance, and subsequent beatings at the hands of those giving me instruction. Yet it also sharpened my fury for those occasions when I was allowed to spar – either with others who would ultimately petition to join the Ebonstryfe, or, more frequently, some hapless slave. Those latter I was allowed to vent my wrath upon, except to the point of death (usually, there were two incidents where death ensued though it was hardly my fault). It was an excellent way, as well, for me to retaliate, albeit vicariously, for all the suffering I myself endured at the hands of my many masters. I was a wild thing, and they made me even wilder, though in a mostly contained way. My fierceness grew inside me every day, the treatment I received compounding that of my innate nature. Yet, I learned to channel my rage, or suffer accordingly. Another facet of my training came about in a more haphazard fashion, and might not have occurred at all, had I, in my human form, been more common in my looks. With the advent of adolescence, my masters began to ‘supply’ me with female kelvics, for purposes of breeding. In my ignorance, I did not see it as such, in the beginning. I suppose I had some vague notion that I was being rewarded for excelling in my training. But over time, it became clearer to me that my function was to get these women, and girls, pregnant – my masters obviously hoping that such a union might produce yet another of my type, though kelvics are not known for breeding true. I honestly didn’t care. I had my opportunity for release. That was sufficient for me to enjoy this one pleasurable task set me. And although I would have gladly set about it in a rudimentary fashion, and utilized it as yet another outlet for the rage I felt for my own harsh treatment, I was bid to try to make this as pleasant for the females as it was for myself. In fact, there were two kelvic females that were tasked with instructing my in this mystifying art, and occasionally, a human slave would be ushered into my arms to gage my progress. I was puzzled at first by this odd demand of my masters, that I should learn the language of persuasion with my body. I was even more confounded when an occasional male was sent my way, and again, a third teacher, also male, also kelvic, was introduced into the mix. It was he that explained to me how our masters valued those who could achieve by seduction what might otherwise be much more difficult to achieve by force. In my head I found this ridiculous. I had seen my masters at work and I knew exactly what lengths and depths and heights they could achieve with their consummate skills in physical and mental torture. But – it was not for me to question their plans – and this was certainly one activity in which I had no problem trying to excel. There were others bits and pieces to my training as well – I was taught to read and write, which I hated, and lectured at length about the world I was bound to enter – the Ebonstryfe, the Black Sun, all the many, many machinations of the politically influential families of the city – and, most importantly, according to my instructors – about Rhysol, the god they all worship, the god that keeps us safe, and fed, and healthy. Now, much like I felt no great enthusiasm for being literate, I also felt little in regard to this Rhysol. Perhaps he does not call to my kind. I don’t know. But I did know enough to keep my mouth shut and at least absorb what I could about this entity, to be able to regurgitate what was taught to me, to avoid yet another beating. And to what purpose has this all been undertaken? In the winter, I passed my fourth anniversary. In both my human and horse form, I am an adult. I am ready, for the next phase of my life, if my masters so choose. Always, my destiny lies within their cruel hands Language Fluent Language: Common Basic Language: n/a Poor Language: n/a Skills Skill EXP Total Proficiency Weapon (sword) 20 SP 20 Novice Seduction 20 SP 20 Novice Unarmed Combat 10 RB, 10 SP 20 Novice Lores Lore of religion: Rhysol Lore of Ravok politics Possessions 1 Set of Clothing -Simple Shirt -Simple Pants -Simple Undergarments -Simple Cloak or Coat -Simple Boots 1 Waterskin 1 Backpack which contains: -Comb (Wood) -Brush (Wood) -Soap -Razor -Balanced Rations (1 Week’s Worth) -1 eating knife -Flint & Steel Heirloom: gold collar (apparently, something is up...) Housing Location: Ravok Housing: I live in my master's home Ledger Purchase Cost Total Starting 0 GM 0 GM Thread List Out of the starting gate: Summer 30, 510 solo