Dumo Groneaud

[Dumo Groneaud]

Dumo Groneaud (A better sheet layout is to come) Basic Information Race: Human Birthplace: Denval Birthday & Age : 63th of Fall, 488 AV, 24 years old. Gender: Male Languages Common (Denvali): Fluent Physical Description Dumo's silhouette is just of average height, and he has somewhat of an athletic body, although that latter fact is rarely noticed from behind the various layers of fabric he usually covers himself with. On his back, usually hidden from view, an elaborate triangular mark of dark blue colors can be seen contrasting with fair skin, it is likely to be thought of as a tattoo by those who may see it. His face is quite easy to remember due to its rough features. His eyes are slightly slanted and curved inwards, filled with a dull coloration dark as the night, rarely shining as dark blue when exposed to intense lighting. Placed into deeply carved sockets in his skull, they give the illusion of a prominent browridge that keeps his sight enshadowed. Despite of it, during the day they are usually narrowed, perhaps perceived as "smiling eyes" more due to the fact that they are rarely kept truly opened when faced with much light, as they naturally feel more comfortable in the dark. This appearance well complements his usual warm and kind semblant.  His hair is kept quite short, as his beard, carefully trimmed not to overgrow. He enjoys dressing in dark colors, he will wear whatever the moment and place require of him, however, generally giving comfort some priority on his wardrobe.  His dagger, commonly kept under his belt on the right side of his waist, is a close companion which is always reminding him of his love for Akajia, and perhaps about who he truly is. Even so, he is more comfortable wielding the bastard sword, in a manner he long ago learned in Denval. The dagger is rarely used for anything other than company for the rest of his embellishments. He is definitely no menacing figure, at least not when he does not mean to look that way, which is most often. His face is friendly, perhaps overly so at times, few always seem so happy as he is, despite of the circumstances. This facet is most of the time no masque, it simply reveals his real optimistic nature, although he also does sometimes hide other feelings under that smile - or tries to. Perhaps somewhat naive in contrast to his mentor, Dumo believes that everyone is worthy of some attention. Friendly as he is, however, one may be fooled into believing that he will not resort to violence if necessary - he can split bonds as quickly and easily as he forms them. He knows the power of coercion too well. Character Concept Dumo likes to think of himself as an owl, or perhaps a raven, wise birds that belong to the shadows and master countless secrets, but more importantly, their fates are their own to guide. Nothing pleases him more than watching the shadows dance on the wall from a lit candle in a dark room, or to have a comfortable murky haven just for himself. He feels safe in the dark, and naked under intense sunlight. The night has its inherent dangers and it is full of secrets, but that is exactly what makes it so intriguing to him, he just can't help desiring it. He has always been that way, as far back in his life as he can remember, and it came as quite a surprise to him to once realize that most people actually feared the night instead of enjoying its cozy embrace. Overly kind and optimistic even to those who despise him, he is a ridiculously friendly person. He has difficulty keeping bonds, however, and may easily abandon those he knows leaving not even a note or explanation behind, perhaps oblivious to how they may feel about him or his departure. Dumo, as a bird of the night, despises all that may restraint his freedom. As such, he does not seek to rely too much on people, albeit he still holds great interest on the stories they have to share. Remembering people and their stories is something his memory is quite good at. Something he admires about the shadows is that their nature is one of subtleity about their very existence. They will always be merely a blank reflection of something or someone which, in our eyes, is more important than themselves. For Dumo, human nature by itself guides man to ambitiously seek the path of recognition, which is not necessarily a bad thing. But their shadows still are shadows, and always will be. Shadows hold an innocence that cannot be found on mankind. But the secrets they hold are often likewise well-guarded. As the shadows, Dumo is not bound to wishes of ultimate recognition as a great hero or ruler. He believes that many great people in history passed unhonored, their deeds preceding their search for fame, and nothing could be more respectable. As such he holds no compromise to anyone other than Akajia herself. He refuses to be chained by restraining organizations or any sort of imposed discipline, as like a bird, he belongs to where his will takes him.  Character History Secret : Dumo was born in Denval, to a very ordinary family, along with his twin sister, Alexia. Being born is a great trauma for any child, but for Dumo it was something more. That early he already could show his affinity for the dark. Being taken from the darkness of his mother's womb was horribly stressful for the baby, causing him to cry loudly, only to calm down when taken to a darker room in the basement of their home. He's changed very little on this aspect, the shadows always have calmed him down and brought great comfort, giving him a homely feeling, regardless of where they were. He belonged to them. He grew up as any other kid in Denval. He attended the academy and learned how to write, as well as the basics of combat, later on favoring the bastard sword as his weapon of choice. Life was comfortable enough in the village, and he could ask for little more, but as with many Denvalis, the world outside intrigued him far too much. He could only dream of leaving one day, even if it would be painful for his parents to see him gone. At fifteen years old, he was already fairly well educated, and greatly desired to travel to Zeltiva. His parents, who still had much influence on his life, opposed the idea, however, as they expected him to stay and help them take care of his sister, or perhaps that was simply what he was told by protective parents who did not want to lose him to the world. Regardless of the reasons, Dumo was hard to keep leashed. One day, when the rest of his family was on a trip to Zeltiva to seek help for his sister, he left with his backpack full of rations and his waterskin filled, ready to explore the rubble around Denval, the closest thing they had to a wild place. Finding nothing of interest on the limits of the road, he attempted to climb stone to get a good view of what was behind that rocky prison. A loose rock caused him to fall, however, and a larger boulder followed from above, cracking his leg and immobilizing him for long. He survived for days, relying on his rations and the water he had brought, which he didn't actually believe would be of use. But soon his pack was empty, as was his stomach. He could not move the large rock, and the miners were nowhere to be seen. Days and nights passed, and were not for it being summer, he would have frozen to death. Too long passed, longer than what he could keep track of. He could no longer afford to be desperate, and only lied there waiting for his death to come. Only the shadows gave him company and comfort then. They were the ones he'd talk to in his solitude. Even if they gave him no answer, it made him feel less lonely. He told them about himself, about his dreams, and smiled with every night that came and went. And one of those days, in what could well have been a delirious illusion, the shadows began answering him, he was saved by a dark woman in the night, the Night Mistress who he came to love, and she gave him a gift that only later he would come to truly understand. The language of Makath. The following year no one could keep him in Denval. He bid warm words of farewell to his parents and his sister, weeping more than he thought he would. He embarked on to Zeltiva, to expand upon what he had learned at the Denvali Academy. But it would not take long for the scholarly city to bore him. He found the University to be too restraining, and he wanted to meet the world, not to read about it. And he left, to the evil and infamous Ravok. If people could survive their stay and travel to tell him the tales, so could he. He wanted to meet the other side of Ravok, for every coin had two facets, or so he believed. However, upon arriving, he found that most of what he had been told was true for a foreigner. And he was easy to tell as being one, due to his heavy Denvali accent when speaking Common. He became quite poor then, living on the fringes of society, expecting the worst to happen in a matter of time. He needed a job, but most would not employ him. He searched far into the city, traveling by foot in a maze made to be crossed with ravosalas, looking for someone who would take the work of a foreign man. Even the shadows were of no help. His search took days, and his hope was running dry, until one day he stumbled upon someone, or more accurately, the man pursued Dumo. This man was quite unique, Dumo instantly knew they had something special in common, he could feel it. This man owned a paper store, a place in which he copied books, documents, among other services. It still was rather curious how the man found Dumo and already knew quite what the young man was in need of. But Dumo had no reason to question his kindness, he gladly accepted the work available for him. Dumo copied texts and documents there and managed to earn some coin to sustain himself in the city. He later realized that this mysterious man, whose name was never actually taught to Dumo, was also quite experienced on forging documents, and he did arrange means for Dumo to get false citizenship documents to finally live comfortably in Ravok. For as long as he wasn't discovered, at least. Dumo could now enjoy the best of the city, and everything seemed to be getting a new purpose. The man, as Dumo soon found out, also loved the shadows, and when confronted about it, he did not deny his love for Akajia. He learned a lot from this mentor and he became what Dumo considered to be a second father, in a moment in which his real father was too far away to be an active part of his life. He learned more about the shadows, more about secrets, and how to keep and unveil them. They had years together, and everyday Dumo discovered something new about the man and Ravok. Just not his real name.  But one day he just vanished as suddenly as he had appeared in Dumo's life. And the shadows would not share what had happened. His store was empty, and most people simply acted as if the man had not ever existed. And the feelings of loss came strong to the young man, and it would not be easy to overcome those. It was, of course, hopeless to look for a nameless individual, and even if he could, his mentor would easily erase any tracks if he really did not want to be found. His gut feeling somehow told him that the Ebonstryfe had a finger on it, which would not be surprising given his master's criminal activities.  But overcoming his loss was what his master would have wanted Dumo to do. Still, he never truly did it, this one secret always bothered him in the back of his consciousness, the secret he could not unravel. The following years were relatively good for Dumo, until more recently. He matured and learned to deal with people, from the lowest of the social ranks of Ravok to the wealthiest. For some time Ravok and its many secrets would suffice on satisfying his great curiosity. 512 was a year of great surprises for him. He was in Ravok when the Great Djed Storm ravaged throughout Mizahar. Parts of Ravok were harmed, which was particularly hard to understand, along with the weather change. But it was not for Ravok he was concerned. Rumors spread throughout the floating city about the disaster of a Ravokian expedition to the Suvan Sea, which pointed the origins of the storm as being much further west. He worried for his family, especially his sister as more news arrived. He knew not of the fate of Denval, most people did not even know of the village's existence. The situation of his birth town concerned him immensely more. He could only hope that his family had traveled far before the storm. As most Ravokians, he was present at the reopening festival disaster, when he finally got to meet the Rising Dawn in action. What he believed would be a group with interesting ideals, however, turned out to be responsible for an abominable act of terrorism that caused the death of countless innocent people. On the other hand, the iron fist with which Lazarin ruled Ravok was equally condemnable. Training Skills Weapon (Bastard sword): 15 (SP) Intelligence: 15 (RB) Copying 10 (SP) Subterfuge: 10 (SP) Psychology: 10 (SP) Writing: 5 (SP) Lore Religion: Akajia History of Denval Equipment and Possessions 1 Set of Clothing (fine cotton doublet, leather jacket, leather pants, dark felt cloak, leather belt, leather boots). 1 Waterskin 1 Backpack which contains: 1 Set of Toiletries (comb, brush, razor, soap) Food for a week 1 eating knife Flint & Steel Bastard sword Leather gloves Leather Armor Assassin's dagger (heirloom, given by his master, has the carved mark of a dark triangle on the hilt) A small cubicle apartment rented from the NHC. Ledger +100 gm (SP) +500 gm (housing) -35 gm (Bastard Sword) -10 gm (Leather Armor) -5 sm (Leather Gloves) -1 gm 2 sm (Leather Jacket) -4 sm (Leather Belt) -45 gm (NHC small average cubicle for Winter 512) Total: 508 gm 3 sm. Thread List ((Background pattern by http://www.patterncooler.com ))