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At first glance Niall appears to be a dirty drifter, bedraggled and loathsome. His cloak is travel worn and bears a laundry list of different colored stains. Blood, dirt, grass, molds, spit, and feces to name a few. And of course chocolate; no one can avoid chocolate.
He has a month of coppery scruff on his face mixed with dirt and grime from the road. His once well groomed strawberry blonde medium length hair has grown wild and shaggy like the wild horses of the grassy sea. The stench he gives off is reminiscent of a latrine. Complex aromas only a chamber maid would venture a guess at. It’s as if a river, spring, or waterfall to bathe in, is a foreign concept to him.
If your curiosity, or perhaps your compassion, draws you closer to this lost soul, you find that he is somewhat more than he appears. Beneath his hobo cloak, an Arming Sword of fair make rests in a simple cracked leather scabbard hanging from an old and weathered belt. A battle worn brigandine covers his chest. Each riveted metal square shines dully; as if it had once been a bright sheen. Dark Gray padded woolen shirt and pants, fit loosely over his athletic frame. The sweat marks stain them in a pattern of one who has come far and seen much. Callouses on his right hand tell the tale of a hammer repeatedly beating metal into submission. His left arm is a glossy black color, like obsidian. Each silver vein running through it is a contrasting trail mark on the map of his flesh.
He is an Isur. Unusual tall for an Isur he stands at about 5'10. Though monstrous compared to his people, at first glance one might mistake him for an average Human.
His boots, which may have been fine leather once, are cracked and stitched together with bits of animal skin, and worn through the sole. He carries a canvas bag with him containing the small sum of his belongings, a large hole in the bottom sown up with an off colored patch.
A glance into the hazel green eyes of this weary traveler reveals a tired soul. Things seen cannot be unseen, and ones past is a personal ghost following you into tomorrow. At times he can be caught staring off into the nothingness of his memories. The sorrows of his past haunting him, like a cruel apparition that will not let him forget, or rest.
Visual Appearance as of Fall 513 AV :
At first glance Niall appears to be a Wandering Pilgrim, road worn and tired. As he wanders the streets of Zeltiva, he wears a simple woolen shirt and pants. His clothes seem washed, yet a laundry list of different colored stains still linger. Blood, dirt, grass, molds, and spit to name a few. And of course chocolate; no one can avoid chocolate.
He has a month of coppery scruff on his face, that is untrimmed. His once well groomed strawberry blonde medium length hair has grown wild and shaggy like the wild horses of the grassy sea. He is washed, though a light layer of grime and dust sticks to his skin.
If your curiosity, or perhaps your compassion, draws you closer to this lost soul, you find that he is somewhat more than he appears. An Arming Sword of fair make rests in a simple cracked leather scabbard hanging from an old and weathered belt. A battle worn brigandine covers his chest. Each riveted metal square shines dully; as if it had once been a bright sheen. Dark Gray padded woolen shirt and pants, fit loosely over his athletic frame. The sweat marks stain them in a pattern of one who has come far and seen much. Callouses on his right hand tell the tale of a hammer repeatedly beating metal into submission. His left arm is a glossy black color, like obsidian. Each silver vein running through it is a contrasting trail mark on the map of his flesh.
He is an Isur. Unusual tall for an Isur he stands at about 5'10. Though monstrous compared to his people, at first glance one might mistake him for an average Human.
His boots, which may have been fine leather once, are cracked and stitched together with bits of animal skin, and worn through the sole. He carries a canvas bag with him containing the small sum of his belongings, a large hole in the bottom sown up with an off colored patch.
A glance into the hazel green eyes of this weary traveler reveals a tired soul. Things seen cannot be unseen, and ones past is a personal ghost following you into tomorrow. At times he can be caught staring off into the nothingness of his memories. The sorrows of his past haunting him, like a cruel apparition that will not let him forget, or rest.
Current Visual Appearance
At first glance Niall appears to be a Human with a rather sweat stained bandanna over his brow. A simple all weather cloak rests upon his shoulders, clasped by a simple Iron Pin. He wears a worn brigandine over his torso, painted with a knotted symbol of a cave bear. The wear and tear on its surface makes it seem an unusual addition to the rest of his newer clothes. Beneath his worn armor he wears a new double breasted leather vest tunic combo made of bay(horse) brown leather. The sleeves could be unlaced or cut away if need be. He wears Leather pants of similar color that have adjustable straps and buckles from the knee down to his boots. The soles of which are soft, but heavy, and reinforced at the ankle, heel, and toe.
Beneath his leathers visible at the cuffs of his wrists, his neck, and the part in the leather at his shoulder, one can see he wears a dark gray silk shirt. With gold accents stitched into the cuffs. One would likely think him as a tradesman or a craftsman, or perhaps a body guard. He keeps his hands covered with buck skin leather gloves. This illusion coupled with his unusual height as an Isur conceal his race for the most part.
Beneath his clothes he is an Isur scarred by his long journey. Many superficial cuts have been made, and healed over and over again. Some stitched poorly, others healed quite professionally. Though his flesh is pale, his scars stand out against his pale skin in an almost bloodless white. His arm is a glossy black. When lit with intense light a slight green can be seen in its matrix.
He has recently shaved. A chiseled jawline accompanies a strong chin with a subtle cleft at its center. His nose has been broken once or twice. His strawberry blonde medium length hair is well groomed and clean. Save for a patch of it near the back right side which has been tied and cut recently. His brow is pronounced as are most Isur’s, though he hides this with a sweat stained Bandanna. Unusual tall for an Isur he stands at about 5'10. Though monstrous compared to his people, at first glance one might mistake him for an average Human.
He carries a canvas bag with him containing the small sum of his belongings, a large hole in the bottom sown up with an off colored square of leather.
A glance into the hazel green eyes of this weary traveler reveals a tired soul. Things seen cannot be unseen, and one’s past is a personal ghost following you into tomorrow. At times he can be caught staring off into the nothingness of his memories. The sorrows of his past haunting him, like a cruel apparition that will not let him forget, or rest. Though, hope still shines in those glossy eyes from time to time.
Character Concept
Personality - Niall is an outcast and a survivor. A bastard orphan, he suffers from detachment issues, and dealing with loss. His childhood far removed from Isurian social culture has made him more accepting of other races, though his personal experience has made him wary of all people; even his own.
Ethics – Niall believes that every unique ethical situation requires scrutiny and will vary his decisions based on many factors. Who will it harm? Who will it benefit? Are there better alternatives? Would his father have approved? Would he want the whole of Mizahar aware of what he did? Though he understands desperation, and would not be above theft if it kept him alive. Right and wrong is rarely as simple as black and white to him.
Likes - He likes summer winds and the smell of sunlight on grass. He likes the sound of water in a stream and the smell of hot metal.
Dislikes – Niall hates himself. He dislikes the forge. Niall dislikes extremely happy people, unless they are drunk. Clowns hold a special fear for him.
Oddities – As much as Niall hates the Smithy and Forge, he most closely associates its existence with home and no matter how far he travels or goes, he always manages to find his way back to one.
Character History
Pre-Creation – Born in the city of Sultros, Niall was not meant to be. His father Sulos, and his mother Serena shared a passionate love for one another. When she discovered she was with child, Sulos did what Honor and his heart told him. He petitioned the Pitrius clan for membership through marriage to his beloved.
Within the Pitrius Clan however there was one who had sought after Serena for a great deal of his life only to be cast aside for a Coglius. His name was Izulon. He plotted and schemed in the dark places of Sultros. It was through his machinations that their marriage and Sulos clan membership were rejected. Many tried to convince her to let the baby go, as its life would be without Honor, without a Father.
When she refused, her standing within the clan fell. Izulon subtly spread rumors and guile further lowering her standing within the clan. He sought to give her no other choice, than to marry him. When Serena had been brought low, and all options were lost. She stood firm, refusing her antagonist his desire.
In his rage, he unleashed a vicious spell upon her, wounding her deeply. She survived, though Niall’s successful birth was called into question. Sulos had stood back through the ordeal at Serenas request, and now could not be found anywhere but her side. Sulos did all he could to help. Though at the very end it seemed that it Niall would perish. The night of his birth, Serena did what she felt was right. She used her skills as a healer to transfer a bit of her life force into her unborn child, and bid death take her.
Niall’s mother died shortly after his birth, binding his Father to a promise. Keep Niall safe till Sulos’ dyeing breath, which is what he sought to do. Niall was spirited away by his father to a secluded Mining camp South of Denval and The Spires. At first, Sulos merely sought to survive. He abandoned his honed trade skills and took up work in the Mine. But after six years without touching a hammer, his hand shook to shape things again.
Niall’s first memories are of a clay floor in a dry warm cave. A place where a fire constantly burned and the room smelled of coal and wood smoke. Sulos taught Niall of his people, their culture, and how to survive in the wilderness. They would weather the harsh winters together with the other miners, guardsman, and traders; and of course, the blacksmiths.
In the winter of 479 AV, the local Blacksmith died of exposure. They found the dang fool frozen to his anvil and the mining camp needed a new metal worker. Sulos did not hesitate to offer his skills as a well learned smith.
Niall watched as his father helped maintain and build up the mining camp. Eventually Sulos saw in his son the potential to be a great smith. He taught him how to be his striker.
Niall’s Father spent years teaching him basics in Acrobatics, Brawling, Carving, Etching, Geology, Land Navigation, Mathematics, Mining, Mountaineering, Observation, Sculpting, Spelunking, Trapping, Wilderness survival, Weaponsmithing, and Armorsmithing. Day to day activities included physical Training in the form of Running, Writing, Blacksmithing, Metalsmithing, and Climbing. Each night they would pray to Izurdin for guidance. Sulos even taught him one song. Niall learned to use this song to keep a rhythm while striking.
There was a woman in the local guard everyone called Yalani, who taught Niall how to shoot a bow, and how to track animals in the spring and fall snows. She was in many ways the mother he never had. Nialls father and Yalani shared a close friendship, though it did not develop further than this.
One Spring Guardsman began disappearing during their patrols. Eventually scouts discovered that the camp was being attacked in the night by a large band of raiders from Denval.
One night they managed to capture one of the Denvali scouts and through a heated interrogation they found that they were after something buried in the mine. That news did not go over well. If there was something in the mine they wanted, the Isur would make damned sure the Denvali Raiders couldn’t get it.
On an uncommonly calm evening, fifty men marched in with cart, horses, and a Reimancer. The thieves broke through the escarpment and entered the camp. A bloody battle ensued, taking the life of Yalani. She had saved Niall’s life by pushing him out of sight where she made him promise that he would stay until the battle was over. He hid and watched as the camp was over run, and almost everyone he knew was killed. Three men held his father down in the blood drenched mud. He had survived the battle, but the raiders were far from finished.
They robbed them of everything they had. Armor, weapons, Miza’s, books. Everything not nailed down was loaded onto the cart. The Reimancer descended into the mine and came up with something wrapped in cloth.
In one final cruel act, the leader ordered his men to sever Sulos’ arm at the shoulder as a warning not to follow them. They heated a blade till it was red hot, and took Sulos’ left arm. The wailing sound his father made still haunts Niall to this day. They cackled as they left. When they were out of sight, Niall ran to his father’s side and lifted him into his arms. A few survivors began to collate around him. Some wounded, some not.
Sulos lived, though he may as well have been dead. Nialls father was strong, but the loss of his connection to his god, his life, his identity gave him a slow death. He watched as his father wasted away. It tore him apart inside.
One morning Niall awoke to find his father asleep on his bed tightly gripping his hammer in his remaining hand. He would not wake. Niall felt a chaos of emotions; Anger, helplessness, sorrow, and strangely relief.
He knelt beside his father, quiet and solemn. Numbly, Niall carried his father to the deepest part of the Mine and buried him in a coffin of rocks, at the root of the mountain. Niall sculpted a portion of the cave face above where his father's head rested in a likeness of Sulos’ face.
When he returned to the camp he found he had forgotten to bury his fathers severed arm with him. The weight of the day had been too much. It had been there, and he had forgotten it. It had long since changed to iron.
A seed of revenge was planted in the root of his heart that day. His father was gone forever, and he had nowhere to go and no where he wanted to be. He blamed himself for Sulos’ passing.
In his anger he struck the lump of Iron that had once been his fathers arm, leaving a large indentation in the metal. For a fleeting moment, an ironic vision of justice flashed before his mind’s eye. That was all it took.
Niall broke a portion of his father’s limb, and lit the forge. He made a sand pack mixed with clay and mixed in some crushed carbon. Taking the portion of his father’s limb, he smelted the iron to as high a heat as he dared. The forge crackled as it gave off an intense heat.
When the iron had smelted, he broke the clay away from the red hot ingot. He stared at the purified piece of alloy, a look of grim satisfaction upon his face. From there he labored for days. Stopping only to drink water, or sleep. Apply heat, hammer to steel, shaping the blade, apply heat, hammer, apply heat. shape the blade. The repetition of it seemed almost like a dream as Niall pounded at the thing that had once been his fathers hand and triceps.
The remaining survivors dared not approach him in his touched state. He lost track of time at the forge. There was no night and day, no hot or cold. Just a sensation of feeling lifted, like he was floating along a river while he gently paddled the current with his hands. His desire for revenge burned through him like a fever, as he forged the blade.
When it was time, he quenched the steel blade in a tub of Oil, and as he withdrew it, the flames licked at its surface. With a great gust of air, he blew them out. It was not the most beautiful thing, but strong, and flexible. He tempered the blade in the fire of the forge, letting the heat restore some flexibility to the blade.
When finishing, he polished the blade till it shone with the sheen of moonlight on the water, and sharpened its edge till it could cleave a new growth tree. He chose a simple grip made of wrapped leather, affixed a steel hand guard, and pommel in the shape of the head of a hammer. It was done.
The remaining survivors could not weather another winter alone. So they opted to abandon camp and walk to the nearest city not Denval.
It was time to go.
Many perils awaited them on their journey. They crossed the Unforgiving hoping to find refuge in The Spires. Of the 12 that pulled up stakes and abandoned camp, only three made it. Many died of exposure. Some were taken by the wilds. eventually one of their number went insane and they had to kill him themselves.
When they reached "The Spires" They were not greeted warmly immediately, though the gentle Jamoura warmed up to them and eventually gave them rest and sanctuary.
While he was there. He met a Female Jemoura, and she spent a long time talking with him about his past. She spoke with him about his vengeance, and the justice he craved so badly. Making him question his path.
When it was time for him to leave, she asked him about his decision. Niall chose to go east, further distancing himself from Sultros, the isur, and his fathers murderes. He knew he was not ready, and the Jamoura had fostered in him a desire to contemplate his path.
He travelled east bearing a letter for the Kind Jamoura. A note for her daughter, Savannah Farstar. Though Niall had never heard of a Jamoura ventureing far from The Spires, he promised her that he would bring her words to her daughter.
He travelled doing blacksmithing Jobs for the Caravans he wandered with, Finally setting foot at the gates of Zeltiva.
Post Creation –
Language
Fluent Language: Common Basic Language: Isurian Poor Language: Inarta
Skills
Skill
EXP
Total
Proficiency
Blacksmithing
16SP+10RB
26
Competent
Weaponsmithing
26SP
26
Competent
Wilderness Survival
8SP
8
Novice
Socialization
+2SP
2
Novice
Lores
Lore in Carbon Iron Ratios to make steel. Lore in Izurdin Lore in Waking in an infirmary Lore in Memory of his fathers lost arm
Possessions
◾ 1 Set of Clothing (cloak/coat & footwear included) o Simple all weather cloak. o Leather Pants o Silk Shirt o Ankle Boots o Cracked Leather Belt o Leather vest/coat/tunic combo ◾ 1 Waterskin ◾ 1 Backpack which contains: o Food for a week o 1 eating knife o Flint & Steel o Whetstone (purchased) o Tongs (Purchased) o Oddly shaped lump of Iron (Part of an Isurian arm, severed) o Sledge Hammer ( -Heirloom Sentimental Item, rarely used if ever.) o Leather Bound Journal/Ledger o Bedroll o Tourniquet o Strong Rations ◾ Arming Sword of fair make (Personally forged) ◾ Cracked leather scabbard (Purchased) ◾ 1 small pouch of Mizas ◾ Rope, Hemp (50 ft.) ◾ Weapon Harness (used) ◾ 1 Belt Pouch containing: o 1 Blood Decoy o 5 Animal Snares, Bird
Heirloom: Fathers Sledge Hammer, marked with his maximum Gnosis.
Housing
Previous Housing Arrangement :
Location: A small Cave located in the crags between Denval and The Spires.
House: 1 basic 20x20 single room cave (400 sq feet) with a forge, bunk, chest, chair, and small table.
Location: Worlds End Grotto. Niall stays here at the inn, in one of their small rooms on the second floor.
House: 1 basic 20x20 single room (400 sq feet) with wood floors, goose down bed, foot locker, chair, and small table.
Purchase
Cost
Total
Starting
+100 gm
100 gm
Cracked Leather Scabbard (Used)
-1gm
99 gm
Leather Bound Journal/Ledger
-1 gm
98 gm
Strong Rations
-7 gm
91 gm
Blood Decoy
-5 gm
86 gm
Pouch, Belt
-1 gm
85 gm
Animal Snare, Bird x5
-10 gm
75 gm
Rope, Hemp (50 ft.)
-1 gm
74 gm
Weapon Harness (used)
-1 gm & 5 sm
72 gm and 15 sm
Tongs (new)
-6 sm
72 gm and 9 sm
Bedroll
-1 sm
72 gm and 8 sm
Whetstone
-2 cm
72 gm, 7 sm, and 98 cm
Tourniquet
-2 cm
72 gm, 7sm, and 96 cm
HD Request Approved Housing Cash In
+500 Mizas
572gm, 7sm, 96cm
Last edited by Niall Hammerfist on November 24th, 2013, 5:16 am, edited 11 times in total.
Hello! Eclipse here, it seem's that I've found a few mistakes on your CS that need some attention! Just a few easy steps, and we will get you approved in no time!
1) A 5'10" Isur just does not seem plausible. The whole race is around 5' tall, and the heights are pretty set in stone. If you wish to contact Gossamer for special permission, please do so, or change your height.
2)You need to update your ledger with Seasonal Expenses for Fall 513 AV.
3) After the intervention is removed, I noticed you had a lot of graded threads that you recieved lores and skills from, but you haven't added most of them to your CS. Please do so once you solve all previous issues on the CS.
If you have any questions, please feel free to pm me! Once you fix everything, shoot me a message and I will remove the intervention!
![[Issues found by Eclipse]](./images/failmark.png "[Issues found by Eclipse]")
Niall Hammerfist (Updated 513 Autumn) 
by Niall Hammerfist on August 16th, 2013, 3:50 am 
