Miles Character sheet

[Miles]

Miles Naaul Muround   Physical Name: Miles Naaul Muround Race: Human Age: 25 Birthday: 17th of Summer 488 AV   Concept and History Miles is a thief, a liar and a seeker of power in all respects. He has a small talent for projection, which he doesn't understand at all and has been using to augment his "pocket to pocket" mentality. He seeks to learn more about the arcane arts, perhaps to belong to something, perhaps to grow in power or to make a fortune off of others. Character History Born in Zeltiva, Miles had wonderful parents and a rather large family which he did not fit in at all. His imagination as a youngster often turned into lies, which of course got him punished. This led to an aversion to authority, which is present to this very day. Miles is an attention seeker by nature- a middle child by it's strictest definition. He left home at the age of twelve, and spent over five years lying, stealing, and romancing the gutters until he was taken in by a man named Abraham. Abraham was a kindly gentleman, and took Miles in without question of past. Miles became a hand around the house, Abraham was a caretaker, and most importantly for Miles, a constant source of positive attention. Abraham had two conditions: the first was that Miles bring no trouble on the house- "an old man needs no ill turns with the law" is what he'd always say, and that Miles dedicate himself to an activity that would help the mind. Abraham often spoke about the University in Zeltiva- in his younger years he attended, and it was the best experience of his life. He's forgotten more than most know about the arts (or so he always said) and so Miles became a student. He secretly trained under the man as a Projectionist- the old man wanted a legacy, and Miles was it. Miles proved to be a fairly apt student, and caught on well. However the old man's age played a large role in his teaching ability. Abraham died in his sleep, leaving Miles with property, and enough money to see him through school- the rest of his training.   Possessions 1 Set of Clothing -Simple Shirt -Simple Pants -Simple Undergarments -Simple Cloak/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: (50gm worth) A small faceted stone that hangs from Miles' neck. 100 Gold Mizas or 100 Nilos Housing: Inherited Cottage including modest furninshings, two beds, hearth, kitchen, small library, sitting room and yard. Two bed rooms and a cellar. Ledger Purchase Cost Total Starting +100 GM 100 GM(500 left to Miles for when he graduates or finishes studies) School -60 GM 60 GM +3 thievery Total as of 1/11/2013 43 GM   Common skills and Magic Common Skills: Projection: 25 (20 SP) Persuasion: 15 (15 SP) Hunting: 2 points Dagger: 5 points ( 5 SP) Larceny: 22 points (5 SP 15 RB) Stealth: 9 points ( 5 SP) Meditation: 1 point Observation: 5 points Subterfuge: 4 points Socialization: 2 points Wilderness Survival: 2 points Rhetoric: 1 Running: 2 points   Languages and Lores Fluent Language: Common Basic Language: Poor Language: Lores: Being Ransacked Projection: Overgiving (Basic) Adela Weilal: Acquaintance Kelvic: Basic Besnik The Kelvic Besnik: Matching Hair and Fur Color Besnik Uses Fangs and Claws Survival Of The Fittest Besnik: Acquaintance Using Fear as a Motivator Raw Determination Expelling Djed from the Spirit Lore of Zeltiva Streetplan Lore of History of the University Mental Prepration for Magic Abraham Weilal the Old Man A promise to Abraham Saving and Stealing   History Thread List Title Date Involved Characters involved Skills Earned Lores Earned A strange blessingFlashback 47th of winter 507 AV Solo The long goodbye 14th of winter, 512 AV Solo The wilderness awaits 29th of Winter 512 AV Besnik Larceny: +1 Stealth :+1 Projection: +3 Rhetoric: +1 Being Ransacked, Projection: Overgiving (Basic), Adela Weilal: Acquaintance The Funeral of Kip Drawlins 40th of winter 512 AV Wrenmae, Valo, Philomena Sharing a drink 47th of Winter 512 AV Through the streets of a deserted Zeltiva 51 of winter, 512 AV Keeping yourself occupied 52nd of winter AV Magic in the Basement 55th of winter AV Why Throw Your Life Away? 57th of winter AV Courting the Shadows 58th of Winter AV Late for Class 59th of Winter   Gnosis of Akajia Mark One: Favor 63rd 512 AV The Docks of Zeltiva still thrived in spite of the town's current situation. Dock workers went about their business normally, the hustle and bustle of the fish markets and merchant stalls were a bit more intense if anything. Citizens who had decided to stay through the frenzy of sickness tearing through the city clamored for supplies that would allow them to remain in the safety of their homes. In turn, prices of shipped goods rose, and profits skyrocketed. In tragedy an unscrupulous man could rake in a fortune. Miles took in the scene: the spray of the Ocean, vast and full of possibility, the smell of salt in the air, the various cultures and styles clashing in earnest as townsfolk and visitors converged. Transactions occurred in the hundreds: back and forth money changed hands, information was whispered, goods were sold, or secrets revealed. Finding himself standing before the fish market, Miles took notice of two fellows engaged in a heated debate. The first was a low eyed short man, plump and sloppy. He was dressed as an outlander, Miles didn't know enough to say where the man was from, just that he was likely not from Zeltiva. He was leaned in to the other man's personal space as if to whisper, but his nasally tone carried well beyond his intension. "You've three days Nerin. Three days! I won't have my plains ruined because you are no longer useful One guard's death is of no consequence to me! I've paid you good money for information- I see the people here: their faces are gaunt, their hands are empty. Something has changed, and I want to know the heart of it!" Spittle flew from pudgy lips as the sloppy man ranted. Nerin was an older man, gaunt and crooked with age. His face was gnarled and sour, his mouth worked without words. He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, leaning away from the fat man defensively. "Nerin has all that you wish- tonight you will understand the weakness you see. Nerin will make all clear. " The man Nerin made soothing, sniveling gestures toward his fat benefactor and the two began to move away from the market. Interest piqued, Miles followed, keeping up with them close enough to hear the nasal tone of the fat man. "You'll get no more out of me, you worthless slight. My ship sails at dawn- if I have my information, then you will be given another task. If dawn comes and your man does not show, Sunberth will have an old man to carve up for slave markets. Do you hear me!?" The last sentence was an outright yell, one that started a few around him. The fat man darted a few glances out nervously and turned, hurrying down the docks to where his ship was stationed. Miles let the fat man go, choosing Nerin instead to keep up with. Nerin took his time through the streets, barely concerned with those around him. The old man was jostled in the crowd as he moved away from the docks, headed quite obviously for East Street. Miles took in a deep breath as he sent a prayer to Akajia for safety in the walk of her work. Nerin was known in the underworld as a broker- those who trade secrets and allegiances for money- it was his ties to the docks that kept him paid, and kept the knife from his back. No one could tell just who he belonged to, not even those who paid him for information. Miles had never met the man before, and it was exciting to be this close to a man this powerful. He swelled with purpose as he drew closer to the man. Walking behind him, Miles pitched his voice low for the man's ear. "Next alley. A purse for your time." Brushing against the old man to expose himself as the speaker, Miles strode in front of him two steps and turned down the closest alleyway. Shadows stretched with life, empowered by the afternoon in the tight alleyway, and Miles took full advantage of the seclusion from the bustling streets. Luckily, the alley was short, and fully visible from the entrance- there would be no interruption without his knowledge. He only had a few seconds to survey the surrounding before Nerin made his way to the alley, looking warily at him. Nerin was no fool. Once he caught a glimpse of the young thief he knew this was no ordinary meeting. Nerin spoke, trying to keep his voice light. "You wish something of Nerin? Nerin has many tales to tell and services to provide." He attempted a bow that revealed his discomfort. His brown eyes darted back and forth, his body language showed that he was eager to be moving though his voice suggested he was calm and ready to bargain. Miles took the roundabout route. "I have seen you at the docks- many times. I wish to work for a Sailor's guild and need an in." He clutched at his belt, suggesting a coin purse as he continued: "I was told you have worked with a few of the companies." The man flashed a knowing smile. "Nerin has an in to a few companies. Nerin knows many sailors." The lie was coated with a honeyed double meaning. Nerin was known for working with smugglers and pirates- selling knowledge of shipping routes and cargo itinerary. In turn, he also sold protection to those merchants wealthy enough to pay: the "in" he was referring to. He was still small time, and had not yet been noticed by the guard- and if Miles had anything to do with it, he would get no bigger. Not off stolen secrets. With Zeltiva in peril, it was imperative that business like this halt entirely. Miles saw it from two angles: the first was practical- a man like Nerin could make things difficult for Zeltiva- if anyone discovered the weakened state she was heading toward… the results could be catastrophic. The second was more personal. Miles believed the precarious nature of the city's security rested in a simple tenant from Akajia's faith: secrets are kept by the faithful- knowledge is guarded, and wisdom is earned, not stolen. In thinking about his faith he grew more and more angry at the old man. How dare he trade secrets at a time like this? How dare he expose what is hidden, what is sacred before a stranger's gaze? He felt hot with rage, and his jaw clenched shut. Blood pumped hot in his cheeks and he suddenly felt flush. His vision turned, forcing a sort of nausea on him, and he suddenly was looking at himself. Not a reflection of himself- nothing distorted by glass and mitigated by self-esteem. He was seeing him- the truth of him, standing before the old man from a pace away. He caught a glimpse of his entire life written along his body- the scar from Adela's blade, the way his eyes half close when he really smiles, the lies he tells when he is afraid- the hurt he hides in his demeanor. He saw lessons he learned as a child in the way he stood, the way he was guarded- the hurt behind his gaze. He saw the secrets locked inside of him, the damage they could do- the good they could do. He watched as words erupted from the true him in a steady torrent. Miles didn't think he could have stopped it if he wanted- this must have been what possession felt like: "Zeltiva's secrets are her own." He heard his voice in stereo, speaking boldly, taking a step forward. "You trade her safety for coin?" His baritone held unrestricted accusation. "You, whose eaten at her table your entire life? You who depends upon her commerce, her strength? Who even now wishes her sanctuary from the plague growing in your leg?" Nerin's eyes widened at that last. Miles' did as well. He watched himself through a haze of shadow, watched as his mind was not his own, his lips moved of their own accord. Nerin visibly shrank in on himself and without accent, without façade he whispered "how could you.." Miles saw himself respond firmly, cutting the man off with a razor sharp voice. "You play with the secrets of others, ruining lives and exposing what is sacred. This has been for your benefit only, and yet it cannot save you. There is one, old man, who knows all secrets. One you mock and defile- who keeps your counsel even so. Pray her grace still favors you." Fear, liquid hot and volatile filled Nerin's gaze. It was the look an animal gives when confronted with a predator for the first time. In that instant, the world grew immensely large, and the old trader of secrets grew infinitely small. "Who are you?" Miles offered a smile, and a soft, feminine chuckle came from his throat. "It's a secret." ________________________________________________________________ Miles took the rest of the day to understand what happened. He remembered being so outraged at the old man, so infuriated, and before he knew it, he began to speak, was gifted with the means to sway the man's heart (or so he hoped) and to protect Zeltiva. As night descended he stood before his mirror, watching the shadows flickering around his face and remembering what it was like to watch himself. It was incredible to step outside of your body- it was unlike any form of projection- to shadow yourself- to know and understand every contour, every detail of your face, every tensing muscle, every fiber of being. Looking at himself was a cheap imitation of what he saw earlier- it was the knowing, the true and utter knowledge of oneself that Miles wished to reproduce. He reached out and touched the glass vainly. The reflection of light given by the fire began to dim. Miles could hear the fire crackling and burning behind him- yet there was no light in the mirror- only his face in the darkness. The hand that was touching the mirror did not move- he froze completely as he watched his reflection begin to be swallowed by the darkness, only leaving an outline of his face to stare back at him. The room behind him spun away from his awareness and all he saw, all he felt was his face- staring back at him. He could not tell if the voice was in his mind or not- but he knew the voice better than he knew any other sound. It was his own. "What cause have you to preach my words? What would you have of Night?" Miles strained to see another figure standing behind his reflection- the shimmer of blue skin and the haunting eyes of Akajia pierced indifferently into him. Miles knew this as he knew dreams- as he knew the night's promise to come- the darkness after the sun. Miles did not hesitate- he spoke as easily as if he were alone- after all, he was talking to himself. "Sacred are the worlds of men- you keep them safe, cover them in your gaze. I do the same because I wish to be protected." Miles had no guard here. He was afraid of his own secrets- the person that he was hid beneath layers of personality and ego. He supposed this was everyone's plight- the truth he believed, was kept secret- and the Queen of Secrets guarded the truth. "I ask only to know myself as you do. To see what I am- as I did this day- this day I saw the truth of myself, it was your grace that gave me this." A soft chuckle came from the mirror- or from the back of Miles' mind. "Will you live alone in the shadow? You cannot, you know this for true as I say it. Is knowing yourself enough?" The figure behind Miles reflection stepped backward and once again Miles was confronted with his reflection. Miles cast his mind into that gaze and remembered clearly the events of the morning. He had not only seen himself- but he saw the power of revealed secrets- he saw the horror on the man's face whose worst fear had been learned and exposed. He remembered the fear of having his own secrets aired- remembered the anger at Nerin's trespasses, but also delighted in the understanding of the man and his motivations. The words came from him as if ripped from stone. He could not defend himself. HIs raw want for understanding trumped all needs. "I wish to know- to understand the world around me is full of mystery- of secrets. I wish to hold them- to understand and protect as you charge the faithful. Truth is hidden in the secrets of the Night- I will hold the truth in myself, and protect it from those who would defile it." There, staring at himself, he heard her voice- it was deep and expansive, a clear night- concealing emotion and motive- filling Miles with its alto melody. "To gather the secrets of the Night, you must first learn the shadow. Know the shadow as the shadows know you, and you will have what you seek. Speak with them- communicate with them, but know once you utter Makath, you have entered their domain. Once you acknowledge the darkness, you are never alone." Miles took in a deep breath and let his hand fall from the mirror as the light began to return to his reflection. Perhaps it was a trick of his mind- but he couldn't tell whether the smile he saw was his own.