Antares

[Antares]

Antares Westwind -Physical Description Name: Antares (Ann-tar-eez) Race: Human, Drykas Age: 23 Birthday: 7th day of the Fall Season, 488 AV Carved from the red earth, the ashen flesh from Antares' innocence was baked golden by years of riding beneath the warmth of the yellow sun in his youth. To the seldom seen outsider he can appear quite intimidating by stature alone, the rigors of life on the Cyphrus evident in his composition. His six foot and three inch frame is decorated by severely toned muscle and rigid bone structure, carried in such a way that hints towards a youthful arrogance. Seemingly complimentary to such barbaric physique, Antares is garnished with a host of bone white windmarks that stream across the entire right side of his body from curved shoulder to chiseled knee. Scrawled in weaving patterns that guide the eye inexorably in circles, they symbolize all the Drykas' flaws and strengths woven together, each one a piece to a virtuous whole. With a long unruly mass of peppered blonde hair, the only encouraging quality to this construct of imposing masculinity rests within his eyes. Rich and inviting by contrast, they are pools of seared cinnamon that have known both pain and happiness many times over. Like a pond covering the glimmer of wealth found only in fairy tales, the heart of the man's soul rests just beneath the surface, fearless to a fault. -Perception Blood of my blood. Son of the Diamond Horseclans. I have watched you grow through the years, blessed to have stood by your side through all your struggles and greatest victories. But like the blue tongued iris of our native land, you have blossomed since birth into a Drykas that knows his strengths and accepts his weaknesses, and you are ready to let the winds guide you to new fertile soil. I could not ask for more as a mother, nor will those that learn to love you as their own. But be wary, my son. Your unhesitating trust in others may one day lead to your downfall. You have all the passion and spirit instilled in you by our ways, but there is fault there that I fear for. I sometimes see it in your eyes, the contempt a man shows when he finds himself longing for something he can never get back. What is it that causes such distress? I know the trials and tribulations we face have not always afforded us the grace of the gods, but we would not be where we are today had it not been for learning from our mistakes. I fear that the fires that rage across our lands in the dry season have found their way into your soul and ignited a fury in you. It is my hope that through this fire you find rebirth. Allow the winds to temper your heart, and there is no telling what you will achieve. Just know that with all the beauty resting within you, there is an ancient storm waiting to be unleashed. Do not let it. - Onatah's Parting Words to her Son -History It is said that from the moment I first drew breath in this world, no cry touched my lips - a sign my father professed with such conviction to be a good omen. I am less convinced, though I dare not provoke his ire by challenging his beliefs. Swaddled in the virgin supple leathers of a Zibri, I was given the name Antares which in our native tongue represents the red setting sun. In our lands such an event happens often in the spring seasons and is viewed with both optimism and fear, foretelling of a coming storm just off the horizon. By some miracle of the gods, such a storm did occur that night, and from my mother's retelling it was one of the fiercest she had ever witnessed. Threatening to tear the large Pavilion of our home to shreds, she insists that the very earth shook from the rolling thunder and that the rain poured down in droves that could have drowned any man who stepped foot in it. Of this I am less convinced as well, though to challenge my mother would ignite the same wrath as my father, and so I tell it to you now as I think they would have told it. Zulrav defend me. Growing up on the vast plains of the Cyphrus teaches one to act boldly while thinking carefully. Many of the predators our people face know the scent of fear, and prey upon it as they would our meaty flesh. I have seen my foe many a time roaming the grasslands, and fought them tooth and claw for our freedom. To submit is not a practice we Drykas accustom ourselves to, as is evidenced in the manner in which we handle our personal affairs. I was no different than any other child growing up, taught that strength of spirit was just as important as strength of mind and body. Many of my friends were cousins and close relatives in my youth, and I learned to depend on them just as much as they learned to depend on me. I was given a bow as it had been the way of my mother to hunt while my father taught me the use of a blade. I found that I enjoyed the practice of the bow more, and became quite adept at its usage as time wore on. The current that controls us all was hardly flowing in my earliest days, and the politics of our culture had not yet influenced me enough to be a burden. Such innocence was sweet, and there are times when I miss it. Though if that had happened, I would have not met Cerus. I remember the day as though it had just passed. The sky was a range of sea greens and violet blues. Clouds were pock marked into its vast canvas, and the wind was pouring in gently from the east, brushing across the tawny grasses in its endless song. The air smelled of a ripe raspberry patch the clan had decided to camp next to, and woodsmoke clung behind in its wake. My cousin, son of the Ankal of our clan was arguing loudly with me over who would be the next in succession. It was a fool's game on my part, he at least twice my size and a few years older, though something within me spurred me on. I took pleasure in his anger, and it satiated a barbaric desire I had to watch him writhe. What came shortly thereafter can only be assumed, and I received a beating more harsh than even my father would give me for poor judgment. Bruised and bloodied, I ran away as soon as I regained my footing, far away from the safety of the Pavilion and those who were sworn to protect me. It could have been a most costly mistake, had it not been that I found Cerus. Only a few days old and still covered by the dried blood of his mother's womb, he lay there in what seemed to be the final moments of his life. His left front leg had been damaged in some way, and he had been unable to follow his mother after she had nursed him to the point of standing on his own. Abandoned, he was left to a fate I care not to dwell on. Tears quickly came to my eyes at witnessing something so innocent being given little chance at life, and so I took the shirt off my back and began cleaning him with water from a skin I always carried with me. It was of little use then as I recall, so I ran back to the Pavilion and begged my father and a few other men to come with me. When at first they saw the colt I could tell that they too were stricken with grief, the brims of their eyes holding back the flow of tears no man of the horseclans is embarrassed to shed. But unlike my childish optimism, they told me that the colt's fate was sealed and that there was nothing to be done. Glaring at my father, I remember striking his bullish legs until my hands went numb and my throat went dry from screaming. Refusing to abandon the creature's side, my father was forced to drag me back to our camp where I was swiftly punished and chided by the stern words of my mother. Despite this, the flame of rebellion still burned passionately within my chest, and that night I stole quietly away from my bed and back to where the colt lay. This time I had brought help in the form of my mother's strider as well as a large litter to carry the colt on. I cannot tell you how I managed to get the burdensome creature onto the litter, nor how I guided my mother's strider back to our camp while the colt stayed on. In some ways I think I was aided by the gods, though I know not why they would have shown concern for such a reckless youth. All that mattered in the end was that I returned the colt to safety, and by the next morning he was feeding happily from my mother's strider. Weeks would pass until Cerus' leg was fully mended, a passing healer from a neighboring opal clan aiding in my friend's revival from the brink of death. I was punished severely by my parents both for disobeying their commands, though I think their equally felt pride that I had risked my life to save another softened their blows. But once Cerus was able to ride again, we instantly became bonded, and soon after I received my clansmen's windmarks. Years would pass while a feeling of wanderlust slowly consumed me. Riding Cerus on the open plains in search of food instilled in me a great love for the earth and sky. I would make several trips to Endrykas with friends and family, learning the ways of all our people as well as the lay of the land and where some of the best spots to hunt were. I could tell that my father's mood was steadily declining the more I roamed, as he too had once felt the call of the world. His one regret in his life was that he had let it pass, and so in an act of vicarious hope, gave me permission to leave the clan in search of my own destiny. Leaving me with a handful of wisdom, he also pressed into my possession a spear point made from the finest Isurian steel. Marveling at its craft and clan etchings, he told me it had passed through the generations when a great ancestor of our blood had gone off on his own much like my own story. He promised that as long as I kept it, I would always be connected to the land of my people. I have not looked back since. -Companions Cerus : A stallion born in the northern stretches of the Cyphrus during a great storm in the Spring of 505AV. Antares came across the colt when it was only a few days old, abandoned by its mother from a leg trauma it had suffered during birth. Left to die by the harsh elements, or if the gods were merciful, by a wandering pack of glassbeaks, the colt was stranded with little hope left for it. Disobeying the wishes of his father to let nature take its course, Antares nursed the young Strider back to health. It was during this time that the two formed an inseparable bond. Cerus, as he was to be called, is now seven years old and sixteen hands high. Sporting a dusky gray coat with dark mane, his youth has given him a great deal of vigor and enthusiasm. Donoma: A hunting dog that was born and sold in Endrykas by the horseclan's Ankal. Antares received the pup of four months as a gift upon his sixteenth name day when he rose to manhood. Donomo has since grown into an obedient and loyal companion, accompanying the Drykas wherever he roams. Her sharp senses have aided in the hunt many times over, and she has sacrificed herself beyond the call of her bloodline. While not as close to Antares as Cerus, Donomo can be found always at her master's side. -Possessions   Personal Set of Clothing (Colorful) Waterskin Backpack Comb (Bone) Brush (Bone) Soap Razor Balanced Rations (1 Week’s Worth) Eating knife Flint & Steel Heirloom Quiver Hunting Dog Short bow Toolkit Hunter/Trapper Short bow Arrows (40) Isurian Steel Spearhead (Heirloom)   Housing Large tent (4 person) Large tarp 100 ft of rope Lantern 2 torches Bedroll Set of fishing tackle & hooks Blanket Bonded Strider Yvas Large set of yvas bags -Ledger Purchase Cost Total Starting +100 GM 100 GM Short Bow -30 GM 70 GM Quiver -20 GM 50 GM Hunting Dog -15 GM 35 GM Toolkit Hunter/Trapper -25 GM 10 GM Shortbow Arrows (40) -2 GM 8 GM -Skills Skill EXP Total Proficiency Riding 16SP/10RB 26 Competent Short Bow 14SP 14 Novice Tracking 5SP 5 Novice Hunting 5SP 5 Novice Wilderness Survival 5SP 5 Novice Fletcher/Bower 5SP 5 Novice -Languages Fluent Language: Pavi Basic Language: Common Poor Language: Kontinese -Lores Lore of Sea of Grass Geography Lore of the Importance of the Strider -Thread List

[Ghost]

Liaison Intervention

Hello!

I’m Ghost, and I’m a Character Sheet Liaison. I’m here to help others with their Character Sheets and the Lore. There are two things that have caught my attention:

1) Your birthdate is wrong. We currently have Spring, 512 AV in Mizahar. So if you want him to be 24 years old, you need to move her birthday back to Spring 488 AV or earlier.

2) I’m not sure if “Antares” really means the red setting sun in the language of the Drykas. I couldn’t find it in the Lore section, so you should talk to an Endrykas ST about this.

Send me a PM when you have editted your Character Sheet, and I’ll remove this intervention. Have fun in Mizahar and don’t hesitate to PM me if you have questions.