Raelon Volsk  Not my artwork (my originals to come later). Link to this image: Here. "What? You’ve not heard of Raelon Volsk? Young Volsk, he’s the poorest rich man in Zeltiva… or the richest poor man… it depends on the time of day." |
 Not my artwork (my originals to come later). Link to this image: here. Physical Description Name: Raelon Volsk Race: Human Age: 22 Birthday: 1st of Fall, 489 AV Height: 185cm/6"1' Weight: 76 KG Volsk is quite handsome by most accounts, though compared to most of the kelp beer swilling sailor swine that inhabit Zeltiva this is not a particularly difficult distinction. First and foremost, one is drawn to the young man’s eyes. Not dull and sunken like so many, but vibrant and full of life. Piercing green irises, almost kaleidoscopic and crystalline though not unnatural looking they are striking none the less. He stands at the taller end of the spectrum and keeps lean, slight definition but skinnier than most. Light brown hair is kept short and clean, swept backward by a comb it frames very lightly tanned skin. Volsk believes strongly in at the very least basic grooming, most importantly for the purpose of distinguishing one’s self as civilised. Volsk is certainly not military in appearance but formal and very much acceptable at any black-tie event. Raelon Volsk usually dresses quite well with finer jackets and pants, often embroidered with gold threads and other embellished aesthetic details. These clothes however are usually quite worn and tired looking from being either old or second hand, Volsk’s current economic standing at this stage cannot afford much better. Thin leather gloves keep his hands warm while clutching a long walking cane that reaches to his waist. A solid dark timber with the faintest of grain running vertically up the shaft, it ends in a short silver handle with slight embellishment of filigree style moulding and engraving. the handle when turned appropriately allows a long blade to be withdrawn. Well oiled and maintained, the blade wavers like a flamberge sword however is much thinner than a standard blade. ~ Character Concept ~ It is important to understand before learning more of Raelon Volsk that he is neither an inherently evil or good man. Volsk stands on a fine line, a coin’s flip away from falling to either side of morality. With an ultimate goal of wealth, capital acquisition and an invite to every high-society shindig, Volsk will shortly have to choose after dabbling on both sides of the law whether his rise to notoriety and vaults full of gold will be through fame or infamy. ~ Volsk is a concerning individual for many reasons. However, whether it be accidental or illustrated on Raelons half, not many that occupy the space around the young man are aware that they should be concerned. If questioned on the matter Volsk would probably be; if not irritated, at least genuinely confused, being quite oblivious to his own inner turmoil. Not so much a fully diagnosable split-personality but damn near close to one. Raelon Volsks inner conflict is usually fought between two different people, one of extraversion and the other of complete introversion. However the ultimate goal is shared between his two conflicting sides… wealth. Volsk wants it all; cellars of the most aged wines, vaults of the most precious jewels and robes of the most exquisite taste. Depending on his mood Volsk may present himself in two ways; One, wherein he will not present himself at all, favouring a dark shadow of a forgotten inn simply observing, obscured through shadow and smoke. The other is in complete polar opposite, a man of booming laughter and great rolling hand gestures about his body attracting anyone and everyone to his person. It can be entirely agreed upon that Volsks future is unpredictable, which side will conquer ? the extraverted showpony or the concealed paranoia riddled shadow. How Volsk managed to become such a mental wreck is not known, perhaps the result of early meddling in hypnotic magiks, the product of dysfunctional parenting or maybe he was simply born into such turmoil. ~ Character History ~ Raelons past is a mixed one, both parents died very early and he was left in the care of his grandfather. A man of the family business that vowed to teach his grandson the importance of family heritage. With this new bond Raelon Volsk’s grandfather crafted his protégé, the child to continue the Volsk name. Alas, Raelon was never to be the man Grandfather Volsk longed for. The young boy learned jewelcrafting basics, as was tradition for the men of the Volsk family. This he enjoyed with enthusiasm, the riches and power a man could wield with a fist full of precious stones was intoxicating. He was made to learn the importance of blood before any material worth and how to live an honest life, though this would never take. Grandfather Volsk was never aware of the inner conflict that broiled within Raelon, not anger and hatred, malice or pain, but constant chattering, bickering and argument. The boy learnt hard and well but never fully grasped the concept of an honest life. No god or goddess was yet to show the boy favour but many watched with great interest. The child had such a burning, many had a burning but this child burnt with two flames in one body. It can only be assumed the deities would find great entertainment in the question as to which path the boy would choose; dabbling in honest trade, to burglary and murder no side has conquered the other. Volsk was a native speaker of common tongue and thusly speaks it fluently, Tukant came second with the odd trader from Riverfall, Grandfather Volsk pushed the boy into widening his languages. Finally Isur was a later attempt, through odd readings and poorly conversations in taverns and shop stalls the young man attempted to learn the language, maybe one day learn the craft, but at this stage has not shown aptitude for a third language. Noteable Milestone: Induction into Magik; Hyptonism. Not a family craft, and if his grandfather had ever known about his secret talent young Volsk would have been beaten vigorously. Pure chance led him to the path of magik. Volsk had been toying with other Zeltivian children, with no malice just the markings of a more intelligent child confusing those it knew would not understand. A passer-by, shadowed in robes stopped to watch. A year later and the boy was attending a fortnightly meeting. Judged not prepared by the commune to begin proper training young Volsk had been inducted but only allowed to view the commune lessons, he was not to have private tutelage. The boy watched with a keen eye however and it wasn’t long before he grasped the basic principles of hypnotism. The commune moved on from Zeltiva, with a short goodbye heading for Ravok. The boy would not follow, and that would be the end of his learning for now. He had dabbled in power which only served to further disturb his two halves; he was not prepared to lose that power. ~ A Tale of Character The Other Halves, Half. Smoke from many pipes and slow dying candles riddled the room with cloudy haze. In a corner a young man sat nestled in a dark cloak, hood drawn deep to further obscure his face. He muttered to himself, inaudible to those that may pass him by. A hand deep within the cloak fingered at a slender walking cane, tension was clear in the agitated way the hands were wringing the wood and metal. He was occupied with thought, logic, reason and looming hedonism. Tomorrow, tomorrow it has to be tomorrow, who knows when the guards will start asking questions… questions, questions… always with the questions! Listen to yourself HA! So worried, it’ll be done its eaaaasy, we waltz in take the sack walk out again, and snibity bibity we’re a thousand coin richer than the yesterday. Oh, oh yes, yes itd be easy if the world was governed by your thinking wouldn’t it, no throat slitting, no danger …but oh that’s right it is dangerous isn’t it? And we could perish if we followed your lead in half a minute... I Just don’t see the problem, were going to be rich! RICH! HAHA! Fantastic! Stop, stop and think, this is going to be hard, the hardest job we have ever considered, there’s going to be serious blood, so much blood… and on our hands! I don’t care now… I want to drink with these men, they will work for me one day, I want them to love me. We, we don’t have time! We have to prepare, yes prepare. Sharpen the daggers, prepare the ropes and tools. NOPE! I’m going to drink now. You, you wait I’m no- “TOO LATE!” with a shout Volsk had vaulted up from his seat with a wild grin, his cloak discarded folding its way to the floor like a deflated balloon. Candle light glinted off gold thread embroidery, albeit it was old and tattered in some corners but by many an assessment a great deal more fine than the garb of other men in the tavern. All eyes had averted to his position, all questioning from where the loud interruption had come. Volsk let out a booming laugh as he strode across the room toward the bar “Hahaha! BARKEEP! Another round for every good man in this tavern, I want these boys well drunk by the time I leave HAHA!” Confusion from the men slowly turned into happy smiles or nervous laughter from their new ‘friend’. Hours passed wherein Volsk had told several longwinded jovial stories of adventures and treasures, but the time had come for him to depart for home. With the clatter of swinging doors coming to a halt the cheers of his send-off were muffled as the cold air of Zeltiva met his face. Volsk grinned to himself, he absolutely loved the attention. He wandered on toward his home, becoming more and more aware that three men were following behind him. He turned a sharp alley he knew to be a dead end and stopped, turning on his heels to stare the men down. They stopped and grinned menacingly, brandishing odd rusty weapons, the man in the middle spoke with gravel in his throat. “Righ’, Mr Volsk lets make this a quick lesson. Ya’ can’t just come in to ma’ employers tavern buyin’ everyone several rounds and then skip de’ bill, ya’ understand? We’re gonna’ have to be takin’ your coin now, and if you don’ struggle ill only take a pinkie-finger.” Raelon’s eyes had turned hard, shadowed, piercing each man’s own with a short gaze before falling back on the man who had spoken. His hands were agitated again, wringing the hard wood of his walking stick, every so often tensing around the handled. He spoke quietly, but with deadly ice in his tongue. “You, you run, run along now lads, this is a game I have no time for, I have no intention to follow its rules”. He held the icy gaze on the center man, there was no mistaking the danger in his words. “Av’ it your way then!” with a shout the man ran the short distant bringing a small dagger down towards Raelon Volsk’s chest. With a speedy jolt the young man had driven the cane up into the elbow of the attacking man, a sickening crack echoed across the small alley as the bone suffered several fractures. Still with practiced speed Volsk continued to press the advantage, drawing a long flamberge edged but thin blade from the walking stick. With a flash he had stabbed and withdrawn the entire length of the blade through the torso of the thug. With a satisfying thud the already dead body hit the ground hard. The other two men attacked together, short blades dazzling in front of Raelon’s face as he stepped back and back narrowly avoiding the attacks. He waited for his moment before spitting with vigour into the eye of the closest attacker, seizing his opportunity he span back to back with the man, cane sword behind him over the man’s head slicing his throat in one move. He continued the spin facing straight on with the last man. The terrified and now cornered thug looked like a rabid animal, with no way of escape he was ready to tear Volsk’s throat from his body. He looked back to find the steely eyes had changed again, and a dirty great smile replaced the shadowed face. Confusion momentarily set in before something transfixed him back on Volsk’s eyes. They were… astonishing… but why? Volsk boiled with energy from within focusing his secret potency, practicing his craft. He would seldom tell anyone that he had training in the school of hypnotic magiks. He boomed again, as he had in the tavern. “YOU! HAHA! You and I we’re not so different aye? Why don’t you put that flimsy blade down?” The man cautiously kept his gaze with Volsk “why would I do that, this is my only protection?” “Ah but behind you, your friend dropped his blade, that one is sooo much sharper! So much better to stab me in the belly with don’t you think?” The man nodded and spun around to get the blade, certain he could defeat his foe with a better weapon. With a jolt he dropped to his knees, blood forming at the corner of his mouth, eyes rolling in his head. Volsk stood over him, pressing down slowly with his blade into the man’s back. “Silly Lad! Could’ve been a partner if you’d played your cards right… ah well, more for me! HAHA!” With a snap the blade slid from the man’s back, Volsk began to clean it with an old rag from his jacket. He whistled jovially as he walked from the alley, the jingle of newly acquired coins coming from within his jacket. The night took over the scene as Volsk walked from view, a trail of whistled notes to the beat of a walking stick slowly faded. Possessions  Items
Items 1 Waterskin 1 Backpack which contains: 1 Set of Toiletries (comb, brush, razor, soap) Food for a week 1 eating knife Flint & Steel Heirloom: Appraisal kit Clothing Set
Clothing Set 1 Set of Clothing (cloak/coat & footwear included): Boots (High, Leather): Dark brown leather boots that end just above the shin, added protection against the wet elements of Zeltiva's cold. Pants (Wool): Thick and warm, a very dark grey in colour. Shirt (Cotton): A simple white shirt, tucked and seldom seen due to other clothing over the top. Jacket (Wool): A thick warm jacket worn over Volsk's thin leather armour, deep midnight blue in colour, minor gold embroidery around the hem and collar. Cloak (Wool, with Fur Lined Hood): A thick and warm cloak to wrap around his body for added protection from the elements, very dark grey in colour with the odd embroidery of gold thread around the hems. A hood when up nestles his face in the fur of some kind of tundra feline, light grey in colour with white and black speckles spread amongst the long fur. Gloves (Leather): Thin leather gloves for dexterity and the warding off of frostbite, dark brown leather in colour. Belt (Leather): A standard dark brown leather belt to keep his pants from falling, lest he make a fool of himself. Weapons and Armour
Weapons and Armour Weapons Cane Sword A solid dark timber cane with short silver handle embossed and lightly engraved with various aesthetic filigree. The Cane/walking stick is long and comes to Volsk's waist. The bludgeoing weapon/walking assistant conceals a long slender well maintained flamberge blade, similar to a rapier.
Armour Leather Armour Worn under his finer clothing for general protection.
Quest Items and Other Misc.
Quest Items and Other Misc. Mizas as indicated by ledger. Housing:
Ledger
Skills, Lores, Magics, Gnosis, Languages
Languages: Fluent: Common Basic: Tukant Poor: Isur Lores: Lore of Rare & Fine Alcoholic Drinks Lore of Zeltivan Taverns Thread List |
