Kadarus Lagh'ratham

[Kadarus]

Kadarus Lagh'ratham Physical Information Race: Kelvic (Human/Talderian Wolf) Birthday & Age: 6 (Born the 32nd of Winter, 502 AV) Gender: Male Physical Description A rather imposing man, Kadarus (or Kade, as some have called him) stands at an intimidating six foot four in his bare feet, with broad shoulders and an eternally sour scowl upon his face. The hunter does not hide his Kelvic blood, and it is evident in even the way he walks; brisk, with his hand never too far from a weapon, hunched as though tracking, even in the city, his golden eyes darting everywhere, absorbing every detail of his environment. He carries himself with a cautious air, though the ever present hostility in his eyes betrays an unflinchining readiness to attack at even the slightest provocation. Kadarus keeps his hair short, hacking it off with a knife or razor if it grows past so much as three inches. His beard grows faster, despite shaving every morning, and his jawline is usually shaded with a light brown shadow. If he would ever let his hair grow in, it would be shown to be streaked through with shades of reds and very dark browns; but short, it is merely the color of oak bark. Though his body is peppered with scars, as are many men in this deadly world who choose the sword for his living, there are two that stand out as unique; two uneven rings around his wrists from shackles, and a strange design carved carefully into the back of his neck by a Zith claw. Character Concept Kadarus Lagh'ratham is a man who has grown well used to living on the outskirts of society. While Kelvics are well known for being affectionate, loyal, and well spoken, the hunter is none of these things. He is aggressive and distrusting, often impatient, and is prone to fits of feral rage once his temper is ignited. Kadarus tends to be cold and stand-offish, and does not seem to like people, avoiding large cities unless supplies or money are desperately needed. If night falls, and he finds himself tired and in sight of an inn, the hunter will instead take up refuge beneath a tree and sleep beneath it, seeming to forget about his tent. In truth, he is commonly exhausted by the time he gives in to the urge of sleep; Kadarus will push himself on for days without resting if he doesn't think he needs to. A fiercely stubborn man, he will insist on injuries being simple flesh wounds, and has once or twice almost bled to death after refusing treatment. The butchering of his family and master, and subsequent enslavement shaped him into a bitter man with a deep prejudice for the Zith. While he does indeed feel the familiar ache of all master-less Kelvic, Kadarus refuses to simply bond himself with any stranger. This age-old, blood-deep yearning often causes him to be short with others, and he will abandon some out of instincts or simple fear that he is becoming dependent upon them. As such, his behavior has essentially ostracized him from the normal populace. While he does see the option that many others of his race have taken - abandoning civilization, living life as an animal in the wilderness - the hunter refuses to take it. Since escaping his chains and pen perhaps a year ago, he has turned his grief and misery into rage, and chooses to hunt, primarily, the Zith, always seeming to show up in towns or borderland colonies when they are having the most problems with the bat winged, predatory beings. Kadarus has a short reign on his temper, and is not afraid to let loose with it, releasing a frightening, savage fury. One of his worst habits is indulging in his hunger; while canine Kelvics are known gluttons, stuffing their faces to feed their monstrous metabolisms, the hunter will not only grab another in combat and rip out their throats with his teeth, but is also known to cut out the hearts and livers of foes and eat them, whether they are still alive or dead. After all, meat is meat, and there is no sense wasting it. In his Kelvic animal form, Kadarus takes the form of a huge dire wolf, whose fur appears to be a deep russet in color. In the glare of the sun, however, the color is revealed to be a blood red, shot through with streaks of dark bronze and blacks. For this appearance, mercenaries and others who have worked with him in the past have nicknamed him The Red Beast. Character History Kadarus was born west of Syliras, in a temporary archaeology colony, to Itrae and Natalya Lagh'ratham, a horse and feline Kelvic, respectively. They were pleasantly surprised to have born a wolf, and their master, Laureolus Eraclaire, was happy to accept him into their fold. Laureolus was a kind master, who treated the Kelvics as though they were close family, and as Kadarus - Kade, as their master called him - grew quickly though his first years, he began to refer to the woman as "aunt". Laureolous was an aging human somewhere in her early fifties, with slowly graying blond hair that she always bound into a messy bun. Despite her age, she was always energetic, though her peers had labelled her as something of an eccentric. As an archaelogist, she'd had mild success in unearthing artifacts of the pre-Valterrian era, but nothing so spectacular to grant her fame and reknown. The dig where Kadarus had been born, however, was being rumored to change that status - they had, within the first month, unearthed scraps of scrolls scribbled over in a language no one had seen in many, many, many years. However, the presence of the little gathering of ramshackle huts and large tents seemed to disturb an unknown colony of Zith, who felt both threatened by the presence of the archaeologists, and extremely curious with whatever it was that they were trying to dig up. One evening, shortly after Kadarus's first birthday, when he had finally grown into a strong, wide chested young Kelvic, the Zith raided the small settlement. Kadarus was awakened in his single tent by the sound of shattering glass and calls to take up arms. By the time he had pulled on his pants and rushed outside, he could hear the dwindling screams of those the Zith had already snatched up, carried away into the cloudy night sky. Frozen with horror and confusion - he knew very little of the world, and was familiar with no more than humans, his kelvic parents, and a few Akalak guards - he could do little more than stammer and stare in terror...until he felt the talons of one of the Zith lock around his shoulders. Kadarus went up, screaming into the night as the monster's claws dug into his flesh, spilling deep rivers of blood down his bare chest. The raid was frighteningly fast and efficient - the population of the little settlement was cut down to a quarter in what seemed like moments. After some time, Kadarus became dizzy and cold in the Zith's grip, and watched mutely as the land passed beneath him. When the Zith returned to their colony - a massive network of caves and tunnels - the spoils of their raids were divvied up. Laureolous was placed into the food category, and Itrae and Natalya struggled to save her. Tearing free from the Zith that held them, they rushed to rescue their master. Still disoriented by blood loss and vertigo, Kadarus could onl;y watch as the Zith clubbed his mother and father, then slit their throats with their claws. Kadarus was placed with the slaves, and a mark was carved into the flesh of his neck to mark him as property. Why he was allowed to live, and his parents and master were not, he could not understand. He had no special talents, or any knowledge, but the Zith put him to work, commonly hard labor. Placed in chains, he was forced along with the others to build the shelters and buildings of the monsters, and whipped viciously when they wanted him to shift into the wolf - which they did often, seeming to take perverse glee from his pain and starvation. After years of mind numbing, back breaking manual labor, the Zith gave him a second task; to fight. For their entertainment and cruelty, they began to take some of the hardier slaves in the pens, and force them to fight, bare handed. The loser was always taken away, roasted, and eaten for that evenings dinner. Three years of powerlessness, sorrow, and agony had turned Kadarus into a vicious, cynical, self preserving man, and he fought brutally to keep himself alive, despite whoever he was matched against, friend or strange.Some of the slaves had began speaking of certain tunnels, uninhabited by the Zith, that could be used to escape the colony...unfortunately, the few that had tried to flee through the tunnels had made some mistake or another, and their skinned flesh was always seen later in the day, hung out to dry. Through some incredible twist of fate, another factor added to his longevity and survival; the very Zith who had snatched him up from the settlement. It was she that scrawled her mark into his neck, she who claimed him for his own. Perhaps because she was but young, she did not kill him, choosing instead to claim him as her property. Easily able to be considered each others bizarre childhood sweethearts and love, the naive and young kelvic clung to her side, in time giving her a name in Commontongue; Astoiredea, later calling her Render in affection. The name was eventually transformed into something of a title for her; Astoiredea, She Who Rends the Night. When he was not being whipped, or tossed into the pit, Kadarus was at Astoiredea's side, at one time beating to death a jealous male Zith who tried to tear him away from her. But as the grueling, dark years drug on, the kelvic's heart hardened from his tortures, and the memory of his family's brutal killing, until he began to grow distant from her, disgusted by her race, crushing the love he felt for her. In the later years, he refused to couple with her, or even sleep beside her, choosing to slumber in the slave pens. Astoiredea too changed with age, taking on many of the manipulative, cruel, and sadistic ways of her predatory kind, forcing herself on him in violent passion when he would refuse her long enough, and taking glee in torturing him, mentally and emotionally. Despite the rift that formed between the strange pair, Kadarus was never fatally wounded by any Zith; they feared Astoiredea's strength, and her sharp mind. For two more years, Kadarus endured his enslavement, desperately fighting in the pits, bleeding and sweating to build the Zith's homes. At night, when their captors would leave the colony to hunt, he would talk to the other's about the tunnels, test the strength of his shackles, and collect odds and ends that he though he could use in his escape. He bided his time, suffering the barbs of the captors - until the moon fell beneath a lunar eclipse. The Zith were out hunting, and the phenomenon seemed to baffle them so much, that they didn't arrive back at the colony at their normal time. Taking a risk, Kadarus shifted into his dire wolf form and snapped the chains of his shackles, shifting back long enough to break one off with a large rock. After breaking out of the pen, he killed one of the Zith guards by ripping out its throat with his teeth, and the moved towards the tunnels. In his wake, he left a single thing; small, insignificant to thers, it was a small strip of metal that Kadarus had struggled to twist into a simple, though unique design. It was left for Astoiredea, as a farewell to her, despite his dark feelings for her. The tunnels were pitch black, cold, and wet, and stank of mold and decay. As his eyes grew used to the dark, he realized that some of the stones he had been stepping on were in fact bones, or half rotted limbs scattered across the floor. Ignoring them, he ran towards his freedom for what felt like hours - and then came to a fork. The paths split, one angling upwards, and the other stretching downwards into inky blackness. Panic bit into him, and the icy floor began to make his feet ache - up, or down? His mind raced as he reminded himself that he did not have forever to make his decisions...following his instincts, and not logic, Kadarus lunged into the downward tunnel, and some time later, felt fresh air hit his face. He emerged at the base of a small mountain, and he nearly wept at the sight of the sky, a light purple in color with the coming dawn. Kadarus stood, gulping in deep breaths of air as though it was water - and then began to hear the angry screeching of the Zith. He didn't bother to look over his shoulder as he began to run. His pace didn't falter as their claws and talons ripped at his back and arms as they swooped down upon him. Kadarus merely kept his eyes on the horizon as it turned from salmon to orange, then finally to red, then gold. Before the sun raised its glorious, burning eye into the sky, the Zith had turned, hissing and fleeing back to their colony. Kadarus walked for days and nights, eventually stumbling into a small border town. Nearly out of his mind with pain, he snapped and growled at anyone who came close to try and treat his wounds, unable to even form words. He collapsed on the other side of the town, under a tree, and the villagers came and went, back and forth, waiting to see if the Kelvic was dead yet. But Dira never claimed him. From the village came a small, arrogant, and opportunistic Pycon, who brought Kadarus bandages and medicine and herbs. Incredibly, he never lashed out at the little clay man, who introduced himself as Finneus Basil Agincourt Degravias. Days later, Kadarus limped back into the town, purchased clothes and supplies at a heavy discount - the villagers merely wanted him to leave - and began to move towards the horizon again - walking, this time, the Zith shackle on his wrist as a grim reminder of his suffering, and Finn the Pycon on his shoulder, rattling away about all the money they were going to make.

[Kadarus]

Training
Skills
+Combat (Large Weapons) 20/100
+Hunting 15/100
+Throwing Weapons 10/100
+Unarmed Combat 15/100

Lore
+Lore of the Zith
+Lore of Mercenary Contracts

Special Abilities
+Shapeshifting (Talderian Wolf, Racial)
+Heightened Senses (Racial)

[Kadarus]

Equipment and Possessions
• 1 Set of Clothing : A black, wide brimmed hat - cloak; a black, double breasted longcoat with tarnished brass buttons - clothes; a charcoal gray turtleneck sweater, dark brown pants, and a pair of well worn, heavy black leather boots. All of these are speckled with small tears and beginning to lose their color
• 1 Waterskin
• 1 Backpack which contains:
o 1 Set of Toiletries (comb, brush, soap, razor)
o Food for a week
o 1 eating knife
• 1 small tent (2 person)
• Bedroll & blanket
• 1 Claymore
• 1 Hatchet
• 1 Box of smoking tobacco
• 1 Book of rolling papers
• 1 small box of wooden matches
• 1 Broken iron shackle ("Family heirloom")

Summer 47 AV 506
• 5 Cold Candles
• 1 Pair of Studded Gauntlets
• 10 Throwing Daggers
• 1 Whetstone
• 1 Broad Brimmed Hat (Black)
• 1 Leather Jacket (Black, doublebreasted)
• 2 Cotton Shirts (Long sleeved, stiff collared, white)
• 2 Cotton Vests (Black)
• 1 Pair of Leather Pants (Dark Brown)
• 1 Leather Belt (Black)
• 1 Plain Belt Buckle (Brass, still a little sooty)
• 1 Pair of High Boots (Three-quarter calf, black)
• 1 Pound of Fresh Tobbacco
• 1 Pound of Jerked Beef

[Kadarus]

Ledger
162 Gold Rimmed Mizas, 4 Silver Rimmed Mizas, 98 Copper Rimmed Mizas

Thread List
45th of Summer, 509 Late Afternoon Syliras Gates
47th of Summer, 509 Evening Graceful Fire

[Kadarus]

Finneus Basil Agincourt Degravias Physical Information Race: Pycon Birthday & Age: Finn cannot recall her birthday, nor truly cares about it. Gender: Female Physical Description Easily identified as a Pycon as are all others of the races, Finn stands at six inches high, though will distribute her mass to increase her height to seven inches, something she believes is intimidating and impressive. Unlike some of her curious species, who create themselves slowly, crafting their forms through their years and experiences, she has already taken on an appearance of her own. Having the beautiful, forlorn facial structure of the Konti, Finn molds her clay skin - a far lighter red in color than the tomato or brick shade of the others - into a toga or dress. Depending on her moods, she'll even shape her hands to make it appear as though she's holding something; the tablet is noted for anger. Her "hair" is always carefully arranged atop her head, though some tends to fall down her back. Character Concept For something so vain, one would think Finn would have chosen a more feminine name for herself - or even chosen to act less like a lecherous, chauvinistic pig. The Pycon is a businesswoman (the business being whoring out Kadarus's strength and sword) first, and an opportunist second, she often rushes into danger, hoping to find someway to exploit it. Foul mouthed, loose moralled, talkative, and a little friendlier than most are comfortable with, Finn is, in many ways, the hunter's opposite. It is she that does the most talking in the companionship, and she loves to joke that she is the kelvic's master. Finn enjoys little else but getting under Kadarus's skin for one reason or another, and she provides a source of aggravation only slightly more tolerable than every other living soul in the world. The pycon is direct and perverted with either gender, no matter the race. Finn acts as Kadarus's companion, teacher, contract negotiator, coach, advisor - and, unwittingly - comic relief. Character History Finn knows little to nothing about her past, or birth. She awoke one day in a mess of broken glass slivers beside the wheel of an upturned wagon, soiled with blood. There wasn't a living soul in sight, so puzzled with her being, the pycon picked her way through the sharp debris, and took her first step in what proved to be a long, yet rather fruitless journey. Finn gave herself the names she proudly wears like jewelry as she travelled, learning the tongues of foreign lands. When she saw a Konti in a market, she was inspired to mold her plain, featureless body into a mirror of the woman. Life did not truly get interesting for Finn until the day a blood smeared, heavily wounded kelvic limped through a town west of Syliras, that she was passing through. He reacted brutally to anyone who tried to clean and dress his wounds, snapping his jaws like the vicious animal that he was. When he passed to the other side of the town, the villagers gathered, coming and going, watching and waiting for him to die. Despite her dimunitve size, Finn was the only one of them who was brash enough to walk right into smashing range, tell him he was being an idiot, and then bring him medicine, bandages, and herbs. As bizarre as her own unknown reason for helping him, the kelvic didn't have her in his jaws in moments. Perhaps, for her, it was mere loneliness, maybe pity, possibly a chance at new adventure - but most likely, it was because she realized that with his powerful frame and temper, he could be molded into a high priced, highly desired mercenary, and she wanted in on the ground floor. He told her his name was Kadarus Lagh'ratham, and he spent nearly a week beneath the tree he'd collapsed beneath, grudgingly letting Finn apply the medicine on his gruesome wounds, to fight infection. At a great deal of prodding, Kadarus even told her his story, and she was dumbstruck. She had never heard of any Zith slave ever escaping, though her inquisitve nature lead her to believe that he wasn't giving her all of the details. None the less, Finn left it at that. When he finally found the strength to stand and walk again - still, perhaps a bit early, but she had learned quickly that he was hard headed - the pycon took an unannounced place on his shoulder, and if it bothered him, he never said a word of it. Kadarus hid himself away in the wilderness almost immediately, wanting to train himself with the claymore he'd purchased from the village blacksmith before leaving. While she didn't know much about swords, or their use, Finn was more than happy to shout obscenity laced encouragements at him. As she watched him wake up just before the crack of dawn every morning, and work himself until exhaustion at midnight, she could see the mountain of mizas growing larger and larger in her head. Unfortunately for her, she underestimated the spirit of vengeance raging inside of Kadarus. One of their first jobs, which she negotiated to get a decent fistful of money from, Kadarus abandoned instantly when he heard of a village having trouble with Zith. Finn cursed and screamed at him furiously, punching the side of his stubborn head with her little clay fists. He ignored her with a single minded, focused anger that even managed to make her shudder; Kadarus didn't speak a single word, and when he did, it was to someone in the village, asking about the Zith. His voice was cold and distant, and the hatred in it was palpable. Finn stayed behind when he went to do his work, and when he came back, his face was splashed and splattered with blood. He didn't return to his usual pensive, mean tempered, slightly more talkative self until they were several miles from the village. Training Skills +Linguistics 20/100 +Negotiations 30/100 +Escape Artist 10/100 Lore +Lore of Currency +Lore of Card Games Note: Finn is a personal NPC, for story purposes, and adding a dash of variety to my posts. She's not meant to give an edge in combat or anything like that. NPC approved by staff.