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[Character Sheet] Siol'Avern


GoodGuyMatt
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Siol’Avern

(The Character Sheet)

 

*THIS CHARACTER SHEET IS STILL WORK IN PROGRESS*

ANY FEEDBACK IS HIGHLY APPRICIATED

 

 

 

 

Description:

The lean and elegant figure, also known as Siol’Avern, stands at roughly 1.75cm (5’9”). The figure, which appears to be a young and sympathetic wood elf, has seen 30 years of life; though as it stands with most elves, it is hard to guess that. Siol’s skin reflects the color of wood brown, quite fitting to him. His body isn’t quite muscular, but neither is it exceptionally slim and slender. The shape and forms of his upper body suggest he could be able to support his weight with his hands, and even lift it without much trouble, while still having an adequate level of agility. If observed closely, his hands show a level of stiffness, as different minor scratches, either healed or not, could be observed all around his palm and fingers. These markings suggest the man’s familiar with an instrument, most likely a lute, since one tends to rest behind his back.

The face and head of the figure is overall edged; his nose is relatively pointy, though not too extended from his head, the same applies for his elven ears. His dark green eyes, which represent the leaves of pine trees are slightly mixed in with a hint of blue, while being slightly tilted inwards. Avern’s hair is not too long, and doesn’t normally go below his neck. The hair is of a less saturated and darker brown than his face, though not much contrast can be seen between them, as his hair is pushed backwards and slightly to the sides, with a few dreads seen here and there, not to mention the ones that hand on the side of his face.

 

Backstory:

Spoiler

 

Being raised around the forests of Irrinor, Siol lived most of his life with his mother in a cabin in the woods, not visible from the main roads. The house wasn’t one for high nobility, but neither was it fitting to poor peasants, instead it was a humble, slightly luxurious place... that was, before it was burnt to the ground.

The story begins when our elf was in his 20s. It was a normal summer day, though the heat of the radiant sun wasn’t much felt around the place, hence the roof of the trees would block the rays. Few, melodious sounds of strings echoed near the house. The music was pleasing to the ears, and calming to the heart. After some notes from the first lute, a second one followed, as calming and pleasing as the first, but not as masterful and skillful. Few minutes passed before the music ended, and so everything around the place, which was once standing still and silent to the harmony, continued to do its own thing; birds went around to build their nests, and fox left to cause more friendly mischief in nature.

”That will be all for today.”  a tender and sweet female voice said, before its speaker quietly placed her instrument on a beautifully crafted wooden table, which rested beside the house. ”You need to improve the second part of the melody...”  the tender voice continued ”... but you are improving.” 

The person being spoken to nodded, and set their lute on the table similarly to the woman. ”Right” a manly voice spoke, though it was a young one ”Shall I be heading to town now?”  the man inquired.

”You shall. Here, this is what you need to get.” the woman extended her arm towards her son, a small paper was being held on her hand. The other mali’ame took the letter, read it over, and placed it on a small satchel that was tightly attached to his lower left hip. ”Need anything else, mother?” the elf looked at his mother with a half-raised brow. ”Not really.”  the woman shook her head gently ”Just don’t take too long to come back.”

”Will do.” the man came closer to his slightly shorter mother, slowly and softly placed his hands on both sides of her head, and kissed her on her forehead before turning back and starting to leave, following a visible path that lead close to the main roads. ”... and Avern, do be careful with that bow of yours.”  Siol turned his head around with a raised brow ”You know?” The woman chuckled lightly ”Of course I do... I know what you do before you know it yourself.”

The boy offered a chuckle of his own, and with a smile on his face continued ”Sounds about right.” and then continued on his path.

After practicing for half an hour with his light and masterfully crafted shortbow, which he picked up later at his training site, Siol’Avern continued to go on his path towards Irrinor as he followed the main road. His journey, however, was cut short when he saw a feeble, hooded man who laid in the middle of the road. Being of a good and generous nature, Avern decided to disrupt his walk to see what was wrong with the man.

The hooded figure turned out to be a High Elf, and an old way at that, though that was hard to tell. The old elf showed the young one his wound, it was a slice traveling from the man’s knee up to his lower thigh. The mali’aheral proceeded to explain to the boy that the wound he had was a consequence of him tripping during his journey. Siol verified this after seeing blood close to where he found the man, and a sharp, hard to verify object which rested nearby.

So, after thinking about it for a moment, the archer took the old man, helped him get up and provided him with support as they made their way back towards the cabin. As the two mali got closer to the house, Solin gave a quick glance at the man, and noticed something odd about his face... something had changed, though he couldn’t point out what exactly. After reaching the end of the path, Siol felt something odd once more, but this time it was much different. The weight of the man being supported in his shoulder decreased significantly, so much so that after turning his head to the direction where the man once was, he realised the man wasn’t there. Pondering his eyes on his surroundings, the young elf finally saw his mother in front of the cabin. His face grew surprised as his eyes widened when he saw the man standing before his mother, clenching in his hand the dagger of the mali’ame’s mother, and came to conclusion the man had taken it.

Without thinking much, the boy unsheathed with his right hand a dagger that rested on his back waist, the handle of which faced horizontally to the right. The knife was somewhat short in length and sharp, especially its edge. It was a hunting knife. The next numerous steps the boy took were probably some, if not the fastest he’d ever take, and found himself standing a couple meters behind the high elf in what felt like the blink of an eye. His rushed appeared to be proven successful, as the dagger was still where he saw it to be before running, and without much thought got closer to his enemy and stabbed him to the heart like he would an uncareful wolf. The problem was, wolves are never uncareful, but he realised it only a moment later.

The dagger sliced through the man’s flesh and reached his heart, the boy’s heart was racing fast as his adrenaline was the highest it had ever been. To his surprise, after the stab, he heard his mother’s scream; his eyes grew wide when he saw what he believed was the mysterious elf to be his own mother, the heart of whom was pierced by her own son’s knife. Amongst his confusion, the boy took a glance at the person that stood before him and his mother, and saw the man he found on the road, the face of whom was stoic and emotionless as stone, as his eyes followed the movement of the son and his mother.

The woman now rested on her son’s hands, the dagger still in her back as Avern’s arms quickly changed position to catch her before she’d fall to the ground. He looked at her. His eyes watered with tears, from which his dark green pupils would be seen. He looked at his mother with wide eyes, his breath distorted and his body shaking. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe what he saw during those few seconds that felt like days, months, years, even decades. He saw his mother’s blood being coughed from her mouth as she herself trembled.

”He...”  the woman’s voice was followed by more blood as her eyes slowly became red. She was trying to finish her sentence. She never did. Her eyes remained open, terror and fear in them as her body let go of its power. Now, all of her weight fell on her son’s arms. Water poured from the ame’s eyes as he looked down to his mother, his heart beating fast as he couldn’t believe what was happening. His head quickly glanced to his left, where the man once stood. He didn’t see the man, and looked around to find him with his eyes. The man stood not too far from the boy as he was trying to run away with his robes trailing him around. For a moment the boy wondered why the man didn’t teleport, but didn’t give it too much attention, as he let go of his mother, and unequipped the bow which rested behind his back. His next movements, like his previous steps, were fast; very fast, though not too precise.  He grabbed an arrow from his quiver, equipped it to his bow, and finally let go of the string, not spending much time to aim.

The arrow flew in a rush towards the running figure, who at this point was rather close to the trees. The shot wasn’t taken with aim in mind, but rather quickness and speed, and so it didn’t hit where Siol wanted it to, the man’s head. Instead, it caught onto his crowl, and planted it into a tree nearby, stopping the man’s running. Siol repeated his movements, but this time aimed his bow better. As the second arrow flew, it hit the tree once more, though this time it wasn’t because of bad aim, but the man wasn’t there at all, instead his hooded cowl rested on the tree, two arrows pierced it, one in its head , and one on the left part of the cape.

The boy cursed and screamed with all his breath, and as he finished he looked behind him. The cabin he grew up in was covered in burning hot flames.

 

 

 

 

 

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