Damselian
Lost Son of Wysar
Lost Son of Wysar
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Basic Information
Basic Information :
Race: Akalak
Birthday & Age : Born on the 24th day of Fall, 36 years old
Gender: Male
Height: 220
Weight: 6'4
Birthday & Age : Born on the 24th day of Fall, 36 years old
Gender: Male
Height: 220
Weight: 6'4
Physical Description
Physical Description :
Damselian is a very well-built and physically fit warrior, even by Akalak standards. His status as a Cerulean and his subsequent social isolation has left Damselian with plenty of time to train his body and his martial arts to top form. His facial features are sharp and perfectly symmetrical, with a gleaming pair of ice blue eyes. His skin has a rich cobalt hue, which always appears to glisten in the sun
He casts an imposing overall figure as well. Standing well over six feet and sporting a great amount of lean muscle mass, Damselian's form could have been chiseled from raw cobalt. When coupled with his unique choice of weaponry, the Death-Head Stick, the Akalak is a frightening figure on the battlefield. He attacks with the relentless brutality of a savage, swinging his spiked skull around like a madman. He stalks his opponents with the grace and stature of a lion. His nimbleness and agility belie his size, as he is fond of hopping, diving, bounding, and rolling to evade and outmaneuver his targets. Outside of battle, the Akalak looks to be a kind and good-natured man of a slightly jovial disposition. The duality of his personality is evident especially in his physical mannerisms. One who had never seen Damselian on the battlefield might consider him the sweetest gentleman, perhaps a bit boiserous. At the first sign of bloodshed, however, he turns into a wild maniac, capable of extraordinary destruction.
He casts an imposing overall figure as well. Standing well over six feet and sporting a great amount of lean muscle mass, Damselian's form could have been chiseled from raw cobalt. When coupled with his unique choice of weaponry, the Death-Head Stick, the Akalak is a frightening figure on the battlefield. He attacks with the relentless brutality of a savage, swinging his spiked skull around like a madman. He stalks his opponents with the grace and stature of a lion. His nimbleness and agility belie his size, as he is fond of hopping, diving, bounding, and rolling to evade and outmaneuver his targets. Outside of battle, the Akalak looks to be a kind and good-natured man of a slightly jovial disposition. The duality of his personality is evident especially in his physical mannerisms. One who had never seen Damselian on the battlefield might consider him the sweetest gentleman, perhaps a bit boiserous. At the first sign of bloodshed, however, he turns into a wild maniac, capable of extraordinary destruction.
Character Concept
Character Concept :
Dams is a strange paradox of a man. Those who know him very well consider him to be the pinnacle of madness, comprised of two opposite extremes. He's usually the kindest man one could hope to meet, befriending anyone in his path. He's very loud and good humored.
The other side of Damselian is very frightening and terrible indeed. Few have seen it, and even fewer have lived to tell the tale. This side of Damselian is supremely cruel, offering no quarter to anyone. His dark side is known for biting wit, and fierce displays of superiority. Dams tends to be very territorial and aggressive in this mindstate, sometimes overzealously protecting his friends.
Damselian is wandering the world, searching for redemption. He believes that if he can find himself and his place in the world, his guilt and pain will disappear. He believes that some day he will stumble upon a deeper meaning for his life, and that he will regain control over his dark side when that time comes. If only he could discover his purpose, more than just hunting and soldiering, he might be cured of his insanity. His dreams may come true some day, but he has a very long way to go. Presently they are highly idealistic at best, about as probable as being struck twice by lighting.
The other side of Damselian is very frightening and terrible indeed. Few have seen it, and even fewer have lived to tell the tale. This side of Damselian is supremely cruel, offering no quarter to anyone. His dark side is known for biting wit, and fierce displays of superiority. Dams tends to be very territorial and aggressive in this mindstate, sometimes overzealously protecting his friends.
Damselian is wandering the world, searching for redemption. He believes that if he can find himself and his place in the world, his guilt and pain will disappear. He believes that some day he will stumble upon a deeper meaning for his life, and that he will regain control over his dark side when that time comes. If only he could discover his purpose, more than just hunting and soldiering, he might be cured of his insanity. His dreams may come true some day, but he has a very long way to go. Presently they are highly idealistic at best, about as probable as being struck twice by lighting.
Character History
Chapter 1 :
Chapter 1: Growing up in Riverfall
Damselian was born a few miles from Riverfall, on the plains of Cyphrus. The 24th of Fall was a cold, dreadful day; one that his father would curse forever. The young man guided his Isurian bride out into the sea of grass, holding her hand all the way. He was keenly aware of his wife's mortality, the likelihood that she would not survive. Though he would never speak of it to her, he clutched her hand tightly, pledging to himself that she would live. He had made the mistake of getting too attached to his woman, clutching onto a silly hope. But in the end, he was wrong. As he lifted his son in the air triumphantly, marveling at the glory of birth, his lover turned pale beneath him. As he cast his eyes back to her, the smile vanished from his face, never to return. She stared back at him through glassy, lifeless orbs, and he could already feel the warmth draining from her skin. Something inside of him died that day, and he was a broken and jaded man until his last breath. He raised his son dutifully for a while, taking care of him as best he could. But hatred and bitterness were growing within him, a seed planted on the day of his son's birth. As the years passed, he grew more resentful of his son. As he had found a wife and mated so young, he had not had time to build up his skills as a warrior. He had been weighed down by his child, having little time to train or work as a single parent. As a result, he was poor, unable to find work because his skills were minimal. By the time Damselian was 7, his father had taken to beating him as his primary means of stress relief. At first it was unarmed, but he grew more reckless as time went on. It wasn't until he was 12, however, that he needed to be sent to the healers for emergency treatment. His father had gotten the bright idea, after drinking a good gallon of ale, that he should whip his son with a rusty old iron chain. His back still bears scars from that beating, and plenty more. Not only was his back torn up from top to bottom, he had gotten severe lockjaw from the rust.
But he grew stronger from the beatings. Dams excelled at combat from a young age, showing a great deal of creativity and improvisation in his martial arts. His discipline was supreme, and he clearly enjoyed pushing himself to his body's limits. He loved the soreness and pain of a good workout, it was invigorating in comparison to the treatment he received from his father. He spent as much time as he could away from the house, training at the Tuvya and Kendoka Sasaran for hours every day. Whenever he was not at the training halls, Damselian was in the Zebulon Sanctuary or Valkalah Academy, enjoying the blissful serenity. He would often nap in the Sanctuary or the library, preferring to sleep on a bench than to go home and face his father. He was known as a somewhat quiet child, though he smiled a lot.
Damselian distinguished himself in his Rite of Trial by leaping on the back of an aggressive old bastard of a Glassbeak, and cutting it's throat. When he returned home and told his father the great news, expecting him to be proud for once, he was congratulated with a belt whipping. His father's hatred would not allow him to see beyond his bitter resentment, and a growing jealousy toward his son's successes. As Dams grew older, the signs of his fractured psyche began to show. In the Academy, instructors saw that he was becoming obstinate, and growing frustrated with his lessons. He had a growing inferiority complex, leaving him with a powerful and sometimes dangerous yearning to prove himself. On hunting missions and in his training sessions at the Sasaran, his teachers began to notice a disturbing recklessness in the young man. Not only that, he was growing more sadistic with each passing month, badly injuring his peers in a number of practice matches. In one match, he knocked a fellow student onto the ground, pulled off his sash, and jumped on top of the boy in full mount. Wrapping the sash around his knuckles, he pummeled his opponent's face until the white cloth was stained red. Then he proceeded to choke him unconscious. Finally collapsing beside his victim, he panted for breath, watched by a stunned dojo full of students. He was not necessarily the most skilled among his peers, but he had a brutal instinct, and a superb eye for openings. He took any opportunity he could find, assailing his opponents with relentless fury.
Seeing that his mind was growing warped and corrupted, his teachers met in private to discuss his unfortunate case. He was the sweetest child, and yet he was clearly losing his grip on reality. He was going beyond overkill, and he needed to be stopped. After another reckless spar ended in bloodshed, Sohryn lost his patience with Dams. Pulling him off his opponent, Sohryn stood Damselian in front of the class and beat him senseless. Better even than his father could have hoped to do. He screamed at him for his insensitivity and cruelty, and dismissed him from the dojo for the day. Feeling guilt and shame beyond anything he had ever experienced before, the young boy limped home in tears. As he walked home, he realized that there was something wrong with him after all. His father had been right all along. He was not growing to be a noble akalak warrior, he was becoming a vile monster of a boy, unfit for society.
Damselian was born a few miles from Riverfall, on the plains of Cyphrus. The 24th of Fall was a cold, dreadful day; one that his father would curse forever. The young man guided his Isurian bride out into the sea of grass, holding her hand all the way. He was keenly aware of his wife's mortality, the likelihood that she would not survive. Though he would never speak of it to her, he clutched her hand tightly, pledging to himself that she would live. He had made the mistake of getting too attached to his woman, clutching onto a silly hope. But in the end, he was wrong. As he lifted his son in the air triumphantly, marveling at the glory of birth, his lover turned pale beneath him. As he cast his eyes back to her, the smile vanished from his face, never to return. She stared back at him through glassy, lifeless orbs, and he could already feel the warmth draining from her skin. Something inside of him died that day, and he was a broken and jaded man until his last breath. He raised his son dutifully for a while, taking care of him as best he could. But hatred and bitterness were growing within him, a seed planted on the day of his son's birth. As the years passed, he grew more resentful of his son. As he had found a wife and mated so young, he had not had time to build up his skills as a warrior. He had been weighed down by his child, having little time to train or work as a single parent. As a result, he was poor, unable to find work because his skills were minimal. By the time Damselian was 7, his father had taken to beating him as his primary means of stress relief. At first it was unarmed, but he grew more reckless as time went on. It wasn't until he was 12, however, that he needed to be sent to the healers for emergency treatment. His father had gotten the bright idea, after drinking a good gallon of ale, that he should whip his son with a rusty old iron chain. His back still bears scars from that beating, and plenty more. Not only was his back torn up from top to bottom, he had gotten severe lockjaw from the rust.
But he grew stronger from the beatings. Dams excelled at combat from a young age, showing a great deal of creativity and improvisation in his martial arts. His discipline was supreme, and he clearly enjoyed pushing himself to his body's limits. He loved the soreness and pain of a good workout, it was invigorating in comparison to the treatment he received from his father. He spent as much time as he could away from the house, training at the Tuvya and Kendoka Sasaran for hours every day. Whenever he was not at the training halls, Damselian was in the Zebulon Sanctuary or Valkalah Academy, enjoying the blissful serenity. He would often nap in the Sanctuary or the library, preferring to sleep on a bench than to go home and face his father. He was known as a somewhat quiet child, though he smiled a lot.
Damselian distinguished himself in his Rite of Trial by leaping on the back of an aggressive old bastard of a Glassbeak, and cutting it's throat. When he returned home and told his father the great news, expecting him to be proud for once, he was congratulated with a belt whipping. His father's hatred would not allow him to see beyond his bitter resentment, and a growing jealousy toward his son's successes. As Dams grew older, the signs of his fractured psyche began to show. In the Academy, instructors saw that he was becoming obstinate, and growing frustrated with his lessons. He had a growing inferiority complex, leaving him with a powerful and sometimes dangerous yearning to prove himself. On hunting missions and in his training sessions at the Sasaran, his teachers began to notice a disturbing recklessness in the young man. Not only that, he was growing more sadistic with each passing month, badly injuring his peers in a number of practice matches. In one match, he knocked a fellow student onto the ground, pulled off his sash, and jumped on top of the boy in full mount. Wrapping the sash around his knuckles, he pummeled his opponent's face until the white cloth was stained red. Then he proceeded to choke him unconscious. Finally collapsing beside his victim, he panted for breath, watched by a stunned dojo full of students. He was not necessarily the most skilled among his peers, but he had a brutal instinct, and a superb eye for openings. He took any opportunity he could find, assailing his opponents with relentless fury.
Seeing that his mind was growing warped and corrupted, his teachers met in private to discuss his unfortunate case. He was the sweetest child, and yet he was clearly losing his grip on reality. He was going beyond overkill, and he needed to be stopped. After another reckless spar ended in bloodshed, Sohryn lost his patience with Dams. Pulling him off his opponent, Sohryn stood Damselian in front of the class and beat him senseless. Better even than his father could have hoped to do. He screamed at him for his insensitivity and cruelty, and dismissed him from the dojo for the day. Feeling guilt and shame beyond anything he had ever experienced before, the young boy limped home in tears. As he walked home, he realized that there was something wrong with him after all. His father had been right all along. He was not growing to be a noble akalak warrior, he was becoming a vile monster of a boy, unfit for society.
Chapter 2 :
Chapter 2: The Murder
When he returned home, his father was piss faced again. Standing in the living room with a terrible glare on his face, his father rounded on Dams as soon as he walked in the door. He screamed that Damselian had forgotten to tie up his horse when he got home from the mines, and that it had wandered off. He asked why his son was so beaten up, with a wide, stupid grin on his face. When Dams explained what he had done, and what his master Sohryn had done to him for it, his father began to laugh. Then he pushed his son against the wall and backhanded him across the face, yelling again. "Now you'll never be a successful warrior, you worthless lump. Maybe if you had grown famous and mated young, I still could have grown exalted and joined the Council. But now you're worth spit, and you're dead to me! Why don't you just leave this house right now, because you'll never amount to anything! You've been a god damned rain cloud looming over my head since the day you were born!" he screamed, hitting his son again and again. He pulled the Lakan from his belt, tucking it under his son's throat.
With a bloodcurcling cry, Damselian utilized a technique he had learned in the Kendoka Sasaran. Grabbing the soft underside of his father's elbow with his left hand, he caught his father's wrist with the other. With all the strength and speed he could muster, Dams grabbed his father's arm at two points and swung it back around on him. He turned the Lakan back towards his father's chest, leaning forwards with effort. The curved blade plunged into his father's chest, spawning an expanding pool of red on his cloth tunic. There was a look of surprise on his father's face, as blood ran in thick streams his shirt. Dams drew back against the wall, eyes agape. In a split second, his entire life had changed. His father collapsed to his knees, head reeling with blood loss. He cried out, coughing up yet more blood, and then fell to the ground in death. His son stood in the doorway of their house for almost an hour, frozen in terror with his back against the wall. He stared at his hands, covered in blood, and felt paralyzed in fright at what he had done. Finally, as the door opened and several of his neighbors flooded into the house, he sank to his knees and cried.
After that, life became very difficult for Dams. No one necessarily blamed him for what he did, but people started acting differently around him. None of his neighbors or peers would come near him anymore, and it became harder and harder to make new friends. The council investigated the matter extensively. After speaking to his neighbors, they discovered the history of abuse. Everyone living around them had heard what his father had done to him. They had heard his desperate screams as his father beat him senseless. Passersby had seen him through the window, being battered or whipped for various minor crimes. The night that he had screamed at him for letting the horse wander off had been no different, except that his father had chosen to draw the lakan. Still, they concluded. His teachers in the Sasaran and his peers could all agree that Damselian's mind had been corrupted beyond repair by his abuse. His emotions were very unstable, and the slightest provocation could reveal his darker half. In combat, it was almost impossible to keep a rein on him, he recklessly and ferociously attacked anyone they put him up against. On hunting missions, he would make risky gambits that only a madman would attempt, some of which put his entire team at risk. He was worse than a loose cannon, he was downright dangerous.
Already known locally as a pariah, the council decided to commit Damselian to the Cerulean sect. His personality and emotional defects were deemed beyond rehabilitation. He was at best a sociopath, quite possibly downright insane. It was a terrible pity, because he seemed to be so nice. But at the first sign of provocation he went mad. He was eerily maniputive, and had a penchant for harsh violence and cruelty. He had suffered from traumatic stress, they concluded, which prevented him from living an ordinary life in their noble warrior society. His face and head were branded with a white skull, surrounded by hunter green tribal designs. All those in Riverfall would know what he was capable of, and what he had done. He had committed violent atrocities upon his peers, and murdered his own father. He had no sense of control over his sadistic tendencies, and for that he was exiled to the Cerulean colony on the grasslands outside of the third tier of Riverfall. He spent one long season there before he received a curious letter.
A man claiming to be his grandfather requested that he come to live with him in the city of Sultros, the homeland of the Isur. He expressed pity for Damselian's plight, and offered him a life in a city where he wouldn't be stigmatized. All too enticed by the offer, Dams gladly accepted. It was a cold winter night when he stole away from the Cerulean outpost, sneaking off into the dark sea of grass. He travelled a few miles from Riverfall to a low point on the plains, where he could reach the the Bluevein river. A boat waited for him at the shore, taking him up to Alvadas. From there he traveled by caravan to Sultros, where he met his Isurian family. It was with great relief that Dams discovered that his Isurian relatives did not blame him for his actions, and in fact welcomed him with open arms. He finally found a home where he was wanted. Though an outsider among his peers, he adjusted quickly. He was in a place where he felt comfortable, able to be himself more than he ever could in Riverfall. No one in Sultros knew what he had done, they didn't judge him or stare harshly at him like the people in his city had.
When he returned home, his father was piss faced again. Standing in the living room with a terrible glare on his face, his father rounded on Dams as soon as he walked in the door. He screamed that Damselian had forgotten to tie up his horse when he got home from the mines, and that it had wandered off. He asked why his son was so beaten up, with a wide, stupid grin on his face. When Dams explained what he had done, and what his master Sohryn had done to him for it, his father began to laugh. Then he pushed his son against the wall and backhanded him across the face, yelling again. "Now you'll never be a successful warrior, you worthless lump. Maybe if you had grown famous and mated young, I still could have grown exalted and joined the Council. But now you're worth spit, and you're dead to me! Why don't you just leave this house right now, because you'll never amount to anything! You've been a god damned rain cloud looming over my head since the day you were born!" he screamed, hitting his son again and again. He pulled the Lakan from his belt, tucking it under his son's throat.
With a bloodcurcling cry, Damselian utilized a technique he had learned in the Kendoka Sasaran. Grabbing the soft underside of his father's elbow with his left hand, he caught his father's wrist with the other. With all the strength and speed he could muster, Dams grabbed his father's arm at two points and swung it back around on him. He turned the Lakan back towards his father's chest, leaning forwards with effort. The curved blade plunged into his father's chest, spawning an expanding pool of red on his cloth tunic. There was a look of surprise on his father's face, as blood ran in thick streams his shirt. Dams drew back against the wall, eyes agape. In a split second, his entire life had changed. His father collapsed to his knees, head reeling with blood loss. He cried out, coughing up yet more blood, and then fell to the ground in death. His son stood in the doorway of their house for almost an hour, frozen in terror with his back against the wall. He stared at his hands, covered in blood, and felt paralyzed in fright at what he had done. Finally, as the door opened and several of his neighbors flooded into the house, he sank to his knees and cried.
After that, life became very difficult for Dams. No one necessarily blamed him for what he did, but people started acting differently around him. None of his neighbors or peers would come near him anymore, and it became harder and harder to make new friends. The council investigated the matter extensively. After speaking to his neighbors, they discovered the history of abuse. Everyone living around them had heard what his father had done to him. They had heard his desperate screams as his father beat him senseless. Passersby had seen him through the window, being battered or whipped for various minor crimes. The night that he had screamed at him for letting the horse wander off had been no different, except that his father had chosen to draw the lakan. Still, they concluded. His teachers in the Sasaran and his peers could all agree that Damselian's mind had been corrupted beyond repair by his abuse. His emotions were very unstable, and the slightest provocation could reveal his darker half. In combat, it was almost impossible to keep a rein on him, he recklessly and ferociously attacked anyone they put him up against. On hunting missions, he would make risky gambits that only a madman would attempt, some of which put his entire team at risk. He was worse than a loose cannon, he was downright dangerous.
Already known locally as a pariah, the council decided to commit Damselian to the Cerulean sect. His personality and emotional defects were deemed beyond rehabilitation. He was at best a sociopath, quite possibly downright insane. It was a terrible pity, because he seemed to be so nice. But at the first sign of provocation he went mad. He was eerily maniputive, and had a penchant for harsh violence and cruelty. He had suffered from traumatic stress, they concluded, which prevented him from living an ordinary life in their noble warrior society. His face and head were branded with a white skull, surrounded by hunter green tribal designs. All those in Riverfall would know what he was capable of, and what he had done. He had committed violent atrocities upon his peers, and murdered his own father. He had no sense of control over his sadistic tendencies, and for that he was exiled to the Cerulean colony on the grasslands outside of the third tier of Riverfall. He spent one long season there before he received a curious letter.
A man claiming to be his grandfather requested that he come to live with him in the city of Sultros, the homeland of the Isur. He expressed pity for Damselian's plight, and offered him a life in a city where he wouldn't be stigmatized. All too enticed by the offer, Dams gladly accepted. It was a cold winter night when he stole away from the Cerulean outpost, sneaking off into the dark sea of grass. He travelled a few miles from Riverfall to a low point on the plains, where he could reach the the Bluevein river. A boat waited for him at the shore, taking him up to Alvadas. From there he traveled by caravan to Sultros, where he met his Isurian family. It was with great relief that Dams discovered that his Isurian relatives did not blame him for his actions, and in fact welcomed him with open arms. He finally found a home where he was wanted. Though an outsider among his peers, he adjusted quickly. He was in a place where he felt comfortable, able to be himself more than he ever could in Riverfall. No one in Sultros knew what he had done, they didn't judge him or stare harshly at him like the people in his city had.
Chapter 3 :
Chapter 3: Life in Sultros
Under Construction
Under Construction
Chapter 4 :
Chapter 4: Guilt, and the Exodus
Under Construction
Under Construction
Training
Training :
| Skills | XP Gained | Total XP | Rank |
| Death-Head Stick | 10SP | 10/100 | Novice |
| Lakan | 8SP | 8/100 | Novice |
| Unarmed Combat | 10RB | 10/100 | Novice |
| Acrobatics | 8SP | 8/100 | Novice |
| Riding | 7SP | 7/100 | Novice |
| Medicine | 7SP | 7/100 | Novice |
| Arcana | XP Gained | Total XP | Rank |
| Flux | 10SP | 10/100 | Novice |
| Lore | Description | Thread |
| Lore of Human Anatomy | Forthcoming | Starting Package |
| Lore of Martial Arts | Forthcoming | Starting Package |
Equipment and Possessions
Equipment and Possessions :
| Kavinka Paintedmount | 1 large tent (4 person) | 10ft Camouflage tarp | 100 ft of hemp rope |
| flint & steel | bullseye lantern | fishing kit | Bit & Bridle |
| large saddlebags | bedroll | blanket | 5 torches |
| Scale Armor | Bladed Boots | Backpack | Rucksack |
| Gauntlets, Teethed | Punching Dagger | Buckler | Shield Spikes |
| Lakan |
Heirloom
Herloom :
Guilt, Isurian Steel Death-Head Stick - 50gm
This weapon was given to Damselian by his grandfather, while he was living in Sultros with his Isurian family.
This weapon was given to Damselian by his grandfather, while he was living in Sultros with his Isurian family.
Ledger
Ledger :
*Price_List*
Current Purse: 353gm, 3sm, 90cm
| Item | Net Loss/Profit | Total |
| Traded Shelter | +500gm | 600gm |
| Kavinka Paintedmount | -80gm | 520gm |
| Scale Armor | -50gm | 470gm |
| Bladed Boots | -18gm | 452gm |
| Backpack | -2gm | 450gm |
| Rucksack | -1gm | 449gm |
| Gauntlets, Teethed | -10gm | 439gm |
| Punching Dagger | -2gm | 437gm |
| Buckler | -15gm | 422gm |
| Shield Spikes | -10gm | 412gm |
| 1 large tent (4 person) | -10gm | 402gm |
| 10ft Camouflage tarp | -12gm | 390gm |
| 100 ft of hemp rope | -2gm | 388gm |
| flint & steel | -1gm | 387gm |
| bullseye lantern | -12gm | 375gm |
| fishing kit | -10gm | 365gm |
| Bit & Bridle | -4gm | 361gm |
| large saddlebags | -8gm | 353gm |
| bedroll | -1sm | 353gm, 9sm |
| blanket | -5sm | 353gm, 4sm |
| 5 torches | -10cm | 353gm, 3sm, 90cm |
Current Purse: 353gm, 3sm, 90cm
Thread History
Thread History :
Summer Season, 510 AV
58th Day of Summer: The Main Gates - Syliras
59th Day of Summer: A Knife in the Dark - The Rearing Stallion, Syliras
58th Day of Summer: The Main Gates - Syliras
59th Day of Summer: A Knife in the Dark - The Rearing Stallion, Syliras
