DraSimon Slade

[DraSimon Slade]

Basic Information Race: Mixed-Blood (Of a Symenestra mother and a Vantha father) Birthyear: Spring of 486 AV (25 years old) Gender: Male Height: 5' 11" Weight: 170 lbs. Physical Description : Simon inherited a great deal from his Symenestra mother. He has the slender limbs and sharp features that one would expect to find in a Symenestra, but it is tempered by the bluntness and solid build of his Vantha father. This has created a proud yet forgettable face. Where his chin could be too pointy it is only sharp. His cheek bones are prominent, but they aren't so high and sharp as to make him look unattractive. He has the pale skin of his Symenestra people, but his years spent in the sun trekking from city to city have burned away the pallor common in Symenestra. He likes to keep his dark brown hair cut just above his shoulders but will let his facial hair grow out for days at a time before bothering to shave. His eyes change like any other Vantha's but seem to be mostly limited to the golds, reds, and purples common in Symenestra. Though it has been known for his eyes to reach a hazel or blue dependent upon his mood. His nails are gray - not the black of a Symenestra - and lack some of their hardness. He keeps them trimmed yet long enough to easily pluck the strings of his harp. His muscles are strong but his bones are weak. He can stand tall, but is useless in a true fight. No one could confuse this poet with a warrior. His features are much more suited to nobility; he would sooner be found drinking a glass of ale or strumming his harp than chopping wood or clashing in open combat. Concept : Simon's life of being an outcast yet growing in a loving home has taught him to stand strong within even the hardest of circumstances. He is a man of immense pride, but is entirely capable of degrading himself for the entertainment of others. To him, it's not an undermining; it's a way for him to raise himself above the crowds. They see him groveling for their attention, but little do they know that they are being drawn into his act and are lifting him up and depending upon him more and more with every cheer and every tear. He prides himself in his use of buskery and magic to bend a crowd to his will. He cares little for others, yet will go far out of his way to help a struggling loner. He has no respect for crowds and people as a whole. The crowd has never given him anything that was worth having, and that is why he has no qualms about manipulating them and twisting them to his will. Simon's desires are always seen to be his not so far off reality. He has no belief that anything he wants might not be his. For him, it is useless to believe that any way other than his own might be the right. It is a waste of himself for him to contradict himself. He has been known to say, "I'm an arrow. I am stationary until fired and once fired I travel until I pierce deep into the heart of what I want. So, beware if you find your wife looking in my direction!" History : "Oh! So you want to hear my story? I feel that it's only fair to warn you that it's a long one. Are you sure you want to hear it?" "Well in that case, we'll start at the beginning. Actually, I guess you could say that this was pre-beginning seeing as how it was before my birth and all." "It started when my father's sister - Svini - began to swell with child. No! It wasn't me! I'm not a child of incest - my story is far more interesting than that. She began to swell, and it wasn't long before the family began to notice. Of course they would notice, she was a tiny girl before." "Now, the family knew nothing about any boy coming to see her, so they confronted her. I'm not sure exactly what was said or how things played out along the way, but eventually my father (his name was Simell) got out of her that she had been raped." "Rapes happen. They aren't nice to hear about and they can scar a woman for life, but this rape in particular was far worse than most you're likely to hear about." "She was raped by a Symenestra. That's right - one of those spider people with the long limbs and the venom. In case you're not quite up to speed on the reproductive challenges faced by Symenestra, I'll fill you in." "When a full Symenestra child is born (and males can only sire full Symenestra) the baby starts to gnash its teeth for food even before it knows where it's at. You dullards out there might be wondering, 'What's this have to do with anything?' Well, I'll tell you. Baby Symenestra are venomous like all other Symenestra, but the babies have an extra dose of the venom." "That means that my aunt was to die. Understandably, my father didn't take very kindly to this news. He flew into a rage that lasted days. His family tried to calm him, but it was to no avail. He was angry, and it disrupted the lives of everyone around him. That is - until he left." "You seem to be getting bored. Would you like for me to stop?" "No? Well, try to stay awake then." "It was months before they saw him again. He stumbled through the gates of the city, scrapeded and bruised. He wouldn't speak to anyone. He didn't tell them what had happened. He told know one what he did until he told me." "He had stole away from the city late that night - as he later told me. He was angry. He was actually blind with rage. He couldn't remember exactly what his plan was. He just walked. He walked and walked - stopping only when necessary to eat what he found growing. The next thing he knew he was at the city of the Symenestra - Kalinor." "Unbeknown to my father, it is nigh on impossible for an outsider to enter Kalinor. His blood-lust was not to be sated with a simple night's worth of slaughter and bloodshed. Hopelessly, he found a rather large stone and climbed to the top of it. Once at the top - he sat down. That's it. His long journey and his raging anger came to this. In fact, the length of his journey had tempered his anger, and he found himself glad to be unable to enter the city." "He knew that he never would have been able to live with himself if he had gone through with his plan. You see . . . " "You are still awake aren't you? Good, then I'll continue." "You see, my father was a good guy. He wasn't the type to hurt people. He never had been, but his mixture of grief and anger over his sister's rape had driven him just the slightest bit insane. That's understandable though, is it not?" "He sat upon the rock for close to a day before something happened to shake him from his mental stupor. It wasn't a sudden awakening - nothing ever truly is. It was a slow and gentle awakening, and it began with the sound of a harp. It was the most beautiful sound that he had ever heard. It caressed his wounds and nourished his mind. He found himself at peace for the first time since his sister's predicament. It was a nice change for him - this gentle caress. It reminded him of the lights of home. In fact, he was certain that if Morwen's Lights could sing then this would be the sound of their music." "It didn't occur to him to find the source of the music, so when the music began to fade into the depths of the cavern he had no clue as to how to follow it. He wept at the loss of the music. He felt like a man that had lost the ability to walk." "He realized something at this point though. He was in a cavern. For the Symenestra this isn't a problem. They are at least comfortable in the caverns, but for a Vantha so used to the open skies of home being in a cavern for so long can be crushing. Despite his sudden feeling of entrapment and suffocation he forced himself to stay put atop of his dismal post. He needed to be there in the event that the mysterious harper came back through. He needed to hear it again." "And so my father waited. He wasn't certain of the time that passed, for the day long darkness of the cavern confused his sense of time, but eventually he heard the soft tinkling of a harp wafting down through the cavern to caress his ears once again. This time, though, he was ready. He peered carefully over the side of his perch to see what creature could make such a beautiful noise." "That creature was - as you might have guessed by now - my mother, and she was the most beautiful thing that he'd ever seen. She made him forget completely his aversion to the Symenestra. He didn't see her as a Symenestra - in fact - he didn't see her as a natural being at all. To him she was a goddess made flesh. He couldn't work up the courage then to speak to her; he was so overawed by her beauty and musical skill." "He had missed his chance yet again! But he was resolved now. He had seen her, and he knew her to come this way at least twice so far, so he slept. He awoke to a gnawing pain in his stomach and a slow dripping from one of the stalactites far above him. But that was nothing to him! He would stay perched upon that rock even if the very bowels of the earth threatened to spill out around him." "His resolve hardened - Simell settled himself into the cleft of the stone and waited patiently. It didn't seem to be that long of a time before she came back around again. He climbed down from his rock; his legs almost gave out from hunger and disuse. He stood in the open, exactly where he knew that she could see him. He saw her eyes flick towards him just a few times, but she acted as if she hadn't noticed him. That was fine by him - he would let her approach in her own time." "It wasn't until she was within arm's reach of him that she gave him even the slightest recognition. He was let down. I'm not certain of what he thought would happen, but it certainly was not what did happen. She looked him in the eyes - and then spit at his feet." "He stood there - stunned - until she had slowly walked back through the cavern and was out of his sight. He left the cavern then. He had held such anticipation and longing, or, more accurately, it held been holding him. It was all that held his starving and ravaged body together. He stumbled out into the night and collapsed." "It was a few months before he made his way back to Avanthal and his family, and by then he had formulated an actual plan. He would have that mysterious beauty as his own." "When he had returned home, his sister had been gone; he didn't ask what happened. He spent the next few weeks in preparation. He bought a few sleigh horses, some saddlebags and a cart full of lumber and tools. It cost him nearly everything that he had, but he would be ready to try and win her favor." "I've been talking for quite a while; do you want to quit for the night?" "No? Oh well, I guess that you're in this for the long haul." "I'll skip the bit about his journey; it's far too boring. So let us skip along to a few weeks after his arrival at Kalinor." "By this time he had set up a home on the slope of a mountain just out of sight of the city. Most of his lumber was used up, but he found the soil of the area able to support his meager crops and the game to be no harder to catch than the game of home. He was surviving." "Of course, not much of his time was spent cultivating his farm nor was it spent searching the area for things to hunt. He spent almost all of his time within the outskirts of Kalinor waiting for the Symenestra who had stolen his heart. He hadn't made much in the way of progress with her even then, but he knew her name to be Nisomen. It was the most beautiful name he had ever heard and was spoken by a voice that put the sound of her harp to shame yet felt sharper than the keenest blade." "He was in love. He knew it, and she knew it. But she was yet to show him any significant interest. This disappointed him, but he was happy to have progressed past spitting and into the realm of speaking. Even the smallest of steps were steps in the correct direction. He feared that things would continue at this pace and that he would die before she was his entirely, but his fears were without a reason. Things would happen soon to send them into intimacy . . . " "It was just another day. He was waiting for her there - by the same large stone, and she was heralded by the same music that he had heard more than a score times. He relaxed in the music as he did every morning. Even when she was cold and sharp her music was warm and loving. He knew that any entity capable of such sweet song could be reached and could love." "As he was lounging he noticed a disturbance of some sort. It took him only a few blinks to realize what it was. Her music had stopped. He had never heard her halt the music before - even when she had spat at him. He panicked for a moment, then convinced himself that it was bound to happen that something would happen some morning that would interrupt her playing." "He was satiated with this answer for the first few moments, but then those moments drug out, and panic settled upon him again. Eventually he could take it no longer and did something that he had never done before - he entered the deeper sections of Kalinor. Not only did he enter them, he sprinted into its depths. He dodged past three or four Symenestra as he went. They spat curses and insults his way as he went, but onward he barreled." "He knew that she was in trouble. He would save her. He ran on and heard a muffled cry from behind a stalagmite. There! He thought and vaulted around the spire to came face to face with the only elderly Symenestra he had ever seen. She had long talon like claws, dripping dagger like fangs, and a look of death that could put an Akalak warrior to shame. He didn't know it then, but she was an Esterian, and she had attacked Nisomen because of her contact with my father." "Despite her fearsome appearance he was entirely undeterred. He saw Nisomen laying bleeding on the ground and the blood dripping from the elderly Symenestra's claws, and he swung. His fist collided with her jaw - hard. He felt the jaw buckle and give way under his fist, but his anger was not to be satiated so easily. Back came the rage from the rape of his sister. This one Symenestra had become the embodiment of everything that he reviled in the world. He swung again - a swing hardened by months of discipline and hard living. This time he snapped her ribs. All of the ribs on the left side by the way it felt under his fist." "She crumpled and hissed at him. He began to leave her and attend to his damsel, but halted at a searing pain in his calf. The crone had raked her claws through his flesh! He turned - his rage overcoming the pain - and kicked her in the face. He felt bone crack and shatter upon impact, but he was through with the old hag. He kicked again - this time to her chest. She laid broken and bleeding upon the ground." "That taken care of - he attended to the object of his love. She was wounded - that much was obvious. Blood had seeped into her blouse and stained it a crimson red. He hesitated for a moment, but decided that he had no other choice. He ripped the lower section of her blouse open." "The wound was bad. He ripped his tunic into strips to bind it. And carried her back onto the main path. He could feel the blood running onto his arm from the back of her blouse and her struggling in confusion in pain. None of this would stop him. He ran with her until he found a Symenestra - luckily not an Esterian. He was led into the city to a healer." "It was his first time in the city, but he didn't take in any of the sights. His mind was obsessed with her. Once at the healer he was instructed to stand outside of the room - apparently the healer had some problem with outsiders, but an even greater problem with violence against their own kind." "He paced about the landing where he had been instructed to stay. He was anxious - anyone would have been. Every horrible outcome raced through his mind. He paced faster and faster across the landing. Symenestra eyed him curiously - some even hostilely, but they knew to stay away from him. It may have been his blood caked trousers, the raw and bleeding skin of his knuckles, or the determined glint in his eyes. He was a moving mass of - not hostility, but more of a unpredictable determination. He reminded onlookers of a wild animal." "Several agonizing minutes into his wait the Symenestra healer came out to him. 'She wishes to speak to you, outsider.'" "He didn't care for the healer's tone, but nothing mattered beyond her. Walking into the room, he saw bloodied bandages and rags laying across the floor and table, but she was sitting up in a bed. Things couldn't have been too bad off if she was sitting up, he thought. She beckoned him over which was new. She had never spoken to him in a face-to-face manner. It had always been standing across the path from each other." "He walked over to the side of her bed - his heart beating a tattoo in his chest. He knew that things were about to change. But would they change for the better?" "'You should never have come to my aid,' she said. Her eyes were a deep shade of purple; he had never noticed before. She continued, 'but thank you. I would have died there if it hadn't been for you.' She placed her hand upon his and smiled at him." "It would be months before I was conceived, but the story dulls from thereon. It's a simple story of courtship, and I never cared enough to gain all of the details from either of them. They go on to live in my father's home outside of Kalinor - shunned by the majority of Symenestra but happy." "The story doesn't get exciting again until about the time of my eighteenth birthday when my mother gave me her harp. It was damaged from the skirmish with the Esterian. Once, there had been a beautiful bone inlay along the back edge of the harp. It was once enchanted to hypnotize the listener with its music, but with the breaking of the bone - so went the enchantment." "I had awoken that morning to find our home filled with the scent of frying meat. It was rare for us to have cooked food, my mother being full Symenestra and myself having almost all of the same dietary restrictions. I came into the kitchen to find my mother preparing a breakfast of pickled sausages and fried eggs. They were almost the only solid foods that Symenestra could eat. Now, a normal Symenestra would be racked with pain and indigestion if they ate them, but they could eat them. Myself - being only half blooded, I could palate it and keep it down rather well, assuming that I didn't consume to much of it." "We sat down to breakfast. My mother and father were beaming. I was confused by the food, and I was confused by the looks on their faces. We didn't keep track of birthdays in my home. I had no clue why they would have prepared a breakfast like this for me, but all of my confusion was put to rest when my father turned to me and said, 'Son, you've lived eighteen years in this world. You've lived them well, and you've always been obedient to us. As a reward to you we would like to give you something.'" "I sat silently; I knew better than to interrupt my father in anything that he was doing. He rose from the table and walked over to a cabinet that had been locked for as long as I could remember. He drew a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. Reaching inside, he grabbed a bundle of cloth and twine. He unwrapped it as he walked back over to the table. Inside of the bundle there was a box. It was a box of light brown wood and was carefully constructed with straight edges and sharp corners. I attempted to peer inside as he lifted the lid, but the box was turned away from me and I could see nothing but a faint glint of metal." "Then, my mother lifted a harp from the box. I could see a flash of pain in her eyes as she laid it upon the table. 'I'd like to give this to you,' she said. She lifted the harp and laid it gently into my outstretched hands. It was heavier than I had expected it to be." "'It needs to be repaired, so I'll need to teach you to repair it. Do you think that you'd like that?'" "'Of course!' I said." "It was then that I decided to be a bard. Someone as steeped as I was in story and music never truly had a chance to be anything else. The music and stories in my blood would never allow me to fight and kill." "I set out from home shortly after my nineteenth birthday to try my luck in the cities of the east. I left the slope of our homely little mountain and set off for Ravok. Mind you, I didn't go directly to Ravok; I made quite a few stops - some small and some not quite to small. I've had many adventures in my short years. I've been chased from Sultros and bedded women in Denval. Not all of my adventures have been pleasant though - I was once attacked and almost robbed on the roads outside of Syliras." "I'd tell you the entire tale, but that should be saved for another day and another pint. Goodnight." Training and Skill Points Lore: Lore Description Mask Carving As a boy Simon enjoyed learning to carve wood, and his favorite thing to carve soon became masks. This allows him to create masks from wood or stone. Or even to create a mask from leaves, grass, or cloth. Harp Repair Part of Simon's harp training was learning to repair it. This allows him to make quick repairs and tune ups to his harp as he travels about the land and, when needed, to be able to reconstruct vital parts of the harp. He's no artist, but he can make it work again. Skills: Skill Points Rank Acquisition Description Busking 10 Novice +10 Simon's years of traveling across the continent telling tales and entertaining has given him quite a skill in buskery. This allows him to enchant audiences with his every performance. Disguise 5 Novice +5 At times, it was necessary for Simon to conceal his identity both for safety reasons as well as for entertainment. Disguise allows him to assume identities other than his own. Hypnotism 10 Novice +10 Simon's mother - a sorceress once well versed in hypnotism - taught him the basic necessities of hypnotizing a person. Hypnotism allows him to amplify an emotion present in an entity's mind or to plant a faint seed of emotion. Impersonation 10 Novice +10 Impersonation allows Simon to further establish himself within an alternate identity - adopting habits and even the voice of another person. Storytelling 10 Novice +10 The entirety of Simon's life has been a grand story. He's learned from this and is capable of recognizing a great story when he comes across one. Storytelling allows him to weave a fantastic yet believable tale or to tell a true story with style and entertainingly. Anthropology 10 Novice +10 While growing and learning within his childhood home, Simon was surrounded by the Symenestra culture of his mother and the Avanthian culture of his father. Anthropology allows him to analyze the cultures and artifacts around him. Instrument:Harp 5 Novice +5 Simon inherited his mother's harp and was taught to play it. This allows him to play his harp with some skill. Equipment/Possessions Clothing One colorful patchwork cotton traveling cloak One white cotton tunic One leather belt One pair of cotton breeches One pair of leather shoes One backpack Set of toiletries(comb, brush, razor, soap) One week worth of food Eating Knife Flint and steel One Waterskin Large tarp flint and steel fishing tackle and hooks a full set of tack lantern two torches Large set of saddlebags bedroll One hundred feet of rope blanket One large (4 person) tent Horse (Zavian) Heirloom: Harp - Simon's harp came to him from his mother. It was once a beautiful bone inlaid thing, but one day Simon's mother was attacked by an Esterian. During the clash the once enchanted bone inlays were cracked and fell from it. The light cream colored wood is still intact. Ledger: Amount Description Transaction 100 gM Money acquired from the Starting Package +100gM Languages: Common (Fluent) Symenos (Basic) Vani (Poor) Thread List The Foolish Bard