Approved Wk Bio for raithgar Urion: CC'd by FL

[TaeaDawn]

DM-Handle: Kura   

 

IC-Name: Raithgar Urion 

 

Nationality: Shienar

 

Age: 17 

 

Appearance: A silk black top knot adorns his head, the rest shaved. He is   moderately tall, standing at 5'11. Like most of his countrymen, he has the   shoulders of a blacksmith. His face is riddled with scars, white marring his   sun-darkened complexion. He wears a heavy full, plate, with a katana   strapped to his back. His eyes once dark, are quickly taking on a yellow   tint.   

 

Personality: Practical and polite. He tends to put a sugar coating on   things, but doesn't hide the truth. He is accepting of his new ability,   taking it as another way to fulfill his duty to fight the shadow. Of   course, this is after he will have had it for a while.   

 

History: Raithgar is what most of his countrymen are, solders. Trained to   fight the shadow from a young age, he has never known much not related to   the subject. One of those abilities, is to survive in the wilderness   surrounding his homeland. Which is where his story truly begins.   It was after a day of training in the forest, him and his father resting by   an open fire, Raithgar eagerly listening to the stories of the blight from   the grizzled veteran. He held up a scared hand, pointing to the socket   where his left eye used to dwell, "Yeah boy, that bloody half-man tried to   run me through, straight through the skull, but only managed to take this   instead. I got him though, one fell swoop and lopped off his head. I waited   till nightfall, watching the bastard who took my eye die." They both shared   a laugh at that, perhaps it wasn't a pleasant thing to laugh at, but little  near the blight was. Blistering cold, trollocs, fades, and the ever creeping  blight itself.

 

The two men heard wolves howling, a good sign. Trollocs   avoided wolves when they could.   The howl sounded again, an answering closer. And again, and again. Both men   eased their blades in their sheaths, wisdom taught caution. Raithgar saw a   splash of white on the edge of the firelight. He was stunned, wolves avoided   humans. "They are getting bold, father." He watched the old man nod, "A bad   sign. Boldness implies desperation, and in both men and wolves that is a   very bad thing." Raithgar sighed; he would not know the peace of sleep this night. 

 

He did not assume the void quite yet, instead hoping that the wolves would  simply leave. To his surprise, they did. "I think they are leaving us." His   father gave him a quizzical look, "What makes you say that?" His son   shrugged, an odd movement fully armored, "I just know." Raithgar's father   looked at his son with an intense scrutiny, but nodded his acceptance, and   again sitting by the fire. "Alright, if you say so kid." Raithgar soon   followed suit. "I'll take first watch, god knows you old-timers need your   sleep, and don't like to get up in the morning." Raithgar and his father   shared another chuckle, before the old man laid down to sleep, his breathing   quickly becoming rhythmic. 

 

The wolves appeared again, and again he eased his sword, not yet bothering   to wake his father. They seemed to draw near, and then fall back as he told   them to in his mind. Each time he was sure that they had left. Concern was  prominent in his mind, would they attack? He somehow knew they wouldn't, and   that scared him more than the thought of fighting them did. He stayed on   guard all night, only kicking his father awake when the sun rose over the   horizon. "Get up; we should head back to the city." The old man blinked   sleep from his eyes, staring at the sun. "Alright kid." He didn't question   why his son didn't wake him, or why the sudden inclination to go home to Fal   Maron. He never did, a man had his reasons.   

 

They were returning from a trip to Saldea, and the journey took a good   while. Raithgar never again took the full night's watch, but he did come   close on more than one occasion. Each night the wolves coming to his camp,   and each night his awareness of them grew a fraction. On the final night,   his dad took first watch. A wolf appeared in his dreams, something he didn't   think odd in the least. It was simply laying there lazily, but when he awoke   he realized it and was shaken. Unable to get back to sleep, he took over the   watch.

 

He saw the concern in his father's eye, which quickly grew into   shock. "Boy, you sick? You look to be getting a bit of yellow in your eye."   Raithgar's eyes grew wide; wolves had yellow eyes. "Uh… yeah. I'm alright,   get to sleep, your eyes are already playing tricks on you." The old man   nodded, and went to sleep after a while of worrying about his son.   The worrying of his father, was nothing compared to that of the son, who   looked into the darkness, hardly hindered in the faint light. Light,   what's happening to me? A wolf appeared, and he got an image in his   mind.

 

You are a brother to us. Now, go seek another with our eyes, he will meet you South, away from your two-legged lands.    Raithgar back peddled, nearly tripping into the fire, and the wolf   disappeared.

 

The next morning,  he waited for his father to awaken.  When the old man did finally roll out of his blankets, his son was quick to speak. “I’ve got to go south. You head back to the city, and don’t worry. You’ve trained me to use these well enough,” he gripped the hilt on his back. Raithgar’s father looked into his son’s yellow eyes, “What’s happening to you kid? That yellow got sharper since yesterday,” the old man reached for his own sword, and his son’s yellow eyes narrowed.

 

“Do you really believe me a darkfriend? Or some new form of shadowspawn?” That stopped his dad in his tracks,

 

“I.. No. No I don’t.”

 

The veteran of hundreds of blight campaigns hardened as he continued to speak, more conviction. “Then, just go back to Fal Moran, father. I’ll be alright.”

 

His father sighed, and quickly donned his armor. “I’ll see you then, son.” They shared another moment together, saying good-byes, before they headed off in opposite directions.

 

A few miles south, a man appeared, his hood thrown back despite their distance to the city. Raithgar’s sword already bared three inches, before he noticed yellow eyes. The man spoke in clipped tones, but his accent was of Shienar. “I’ll be taking you South, to the old stedding. There you will learn to wield you new found abilities.” With that, he turned, heading South. When they camped, Raithgar tried to get some information. What was he? What could he do? Had the shadow touched him? He was told that he was a wolfbrother, and that no, the shadow had not touched him, and that his teachers would tell him the rest.”

 

After an eternity of traveling, they finally reached the Mountains of Mist, and the Stedding nearby. He eagerly awaited the answers to all of his questions, and more. He needed answers, and more than his yellow-eyed escort would provide.

 

 

[bcxanth]

CC'd. Looks good. :)