Post by Darkstar on Jul 27, 2007 14:42:36 GMT -5
Name: Darkstar Evangelon
Age: 21
Race: Human
Class: Assassin (freelance. In other words, she has no guild affiliations)
Physical Description: Perhaps the greatest unknown of any Evangelon: their face. Trained in cosmetology: the art of masks, since her toddling years, any who know of Darkstar will tell you that she never wears the same face twice. While this is not precisely true she rarely wears the same persona in the same place more than once unless there is purpose to it. Darkstar has entire personalities woven around her many appearances so that all that can be said for certain about her appearance is that she ‘appears’ to be a young woman, probably human. Though she has been known to pose as an elf from time to time.
Whatever else can be said about her, whatever features lay beneath the masks is one of Edarin’s many mysteries.
Weapons, Armor and other Items:
1. A horse named Tavia. While one might say the woman can be known by the mount she is riding, Tavia is a rather ordinary looking horse—a chocolate mare who can look tame with a saddle or wild without one. Her mount is carefully chosen as one that is neither to pretty nor too plain as far as horses go—swift on her feet but lacking extraordinary speed. The perfect horse for a person who doesn’t want to be noticed. Darkstar has trained Tavia to answer to four names in total. The other three, for the record, are Reina, Tarsis, and Soldat.
2. 1 basic dagger.
3. 1 battle axe
4. Basic Leather Armor
5. Extra Clothing: 1 silk dress, 3 tunics (2 cotton, 1 silk), 2 pair cotton breeches, 1 cotton skirt, 2 cloaks (1 cotton, 1 silk w/fur lining), 1 belt, 1 pair boots, 2 pairs shoes (one plain, one formal)
6. Other supplies: 1 bar soap, 1 brush, a bundle of candles (6), ka pouch, cleaning rags, dry rations, wineskin, compass
7. 645 ka
8. Her father’s journal, a prized possession in which he passed to her all the knowledge of her “people”. It will take her many years of study to master the trade.
History: Times change and people change with them. Born on the day her village was burned to the ground, Darkstar knows this intimately. They were words her guardian, a former soldier of the Darendalian militia named Ephram, told her many times in her youth. “My child, you were born under a dark star, and so, I named you according to that birth so that you will never forget what you come from.”
Unlike many assassins who join guilds and learn their trade under many different mentors, Darkstar was trained in the less common assassin’s Art of Deception by the journal her father left for her the day she was born. She had no misled youth that found her eventually tumbled onto assassin’s work—rather, she was born and bred for the work. The village of her parents, a long since gone and even then little known place north of Varin named—again, for the record—Isgaan—was a village in it’s entirety of assassins trained and training in this ‘art of deception’, which they amongst themselves called the ‘way of 100 faces’. Isgaan assassins were famed for this work—which involved a rare assassin’s skill that allowed a person to blend into any crowd, work into any circle without suspicion. Rather than learning stealthy walking and methods to hide in the shadows, the assassins of Isgaan hid in plain sight—a bar mistress, a bard, a nobleman of just the right amount of esteem. They specialized in cosmetics and poisons, though training in weapons was also a focal point—one must also be able to pass as a seasoned warrior when the need arose, after all. This unique many-faced ability of assassins from Isgaan made them well sought after in times of war…and deeply feared in times of peace.
It was this fear that the people of Darendale decided with all due certainty…the assassins of Isgaan had to go. On the eve of morning on the 17th day of years in the year 2996, the assassins of Isgaan woke to find their village a pyre of smoke and flame. Soldiers flanked all sides to slaughter anyone who thought to escape—men, women, and children alike—all were thought too dangerous to be allowed to live. It was within this chaos, deep in the heart of the village a babe was born to a pair of Isgaan parents—Beldas and his wife Imaline. Beldas did his best to keep the flames at bay while his wife birthed their child, but the moment the child tore from Imaline’s womb, the easternmost wall of the home crumbled—seeing the assassins, a soldier rode to be done with him…his spear skewered the woman through the skull before his heart softened at the sight of the harmless infant to be sentenced to death along with the rest of them.
Beldas begged the soldier to take his daughter and keep her secret, safe. His own life mattered little. That soldier was Ephram. He submitted to the request, and with the child Beldas sent his journal in which he’d over the years written many Isgaan secrets. “You will have need of us yet,” he warned. Ephram left him there and rode hard into the night before he could be found. He did not have the heart for slaughter and retired from the militia to take up the simple life where he had his adopted ‘daughter’ and a small farm that grew food enough for two plus a bit extra to take to market and trade for clothing and other supplies. It was not a rich life, but it was a good enough life and one to be proud of. He kept his home in the woods, away from villages, and this kept the child he now raised secret from the outside world. When she was able to read a bit he gave her father’s journal to her—she took to it like a fish to water.
Though she had no memory of her parents or anyone else from Isgaan she felt drawn to the work, intent to somehow avenge them over time, and if her existence was vengeance enough, then she determined she would master this ‘way of 100 faces’ that her father had written about. He categorized poisons and potions in intricate detail, wrote the manner to mold certain clays to alter the appearance of one’s bone structure, he included the characteristic movements of a warrior, of a bard, a thief, a woman and a man’s major emotional discrepancies, the application of various cosmetics and where to find the necessary components to make them.
From about the age of seven she studied this book cover to cover, though it would be many years before she would understand most of it. In the years that followed Ephram taught her as well some of the basic rules of survival that one might learn in the military, as he had once been a military man himself. She learned the basics of combat from simply existing in the same time and place as her guardian, and she learned how to swing an axe to chop firewood—many years later the battle axe—a weapon mostly preferred by the dwarves—remains also Darkstar’s weapon of choice.
As the years passed, Ephram started to notice Darkstar’s appearance changing as the seasons…at first subtle things—the shape of a jaw, the color of the eyes, a shading to the hair—but soon her appearance became completely different from one day to the next and with it the persona she put forth began to alter itself. He found it terribly unsettling and her sense of humor grew more mature, and darker. She’d casually discuss some poison or other while they ate dinner, or tease that he should sleep with a dagger under his pillow.
Eventually they both knew the time had come for them to part ways. She began to feel a wanderlust and wanted to begin to work in the trade of her forefathers. Ephram, who had no taste for remorseless killing, could not bear that, so while they parted on good terms in the summer of Darkstar’s sixteenth year it was with the knowledge that this was most probably a final farewell. She would not return to his doorstep again in the foreseeable future.
Whether or not Beldas survived the inferno at Isgaan or not remains to be proven, but is severely doubted. Though the Darendalian militia took heavy losses attacking a village of assassins, the people of Isgaan were annihilated.
Location: n/a
Psyonic Abilities: n/a
Age: 21
Race: Human
Class: Assassin (freelance. In other words, she has no guild affiliations)
Physical Description: Perhaps the greatest unknown of any Evangelon: their face. Trained in cosmetology: the art of masks, since her toddling years, any who know of Darkstar will tell you that she never wears the same face twice. While this is not precisely true she rarely wears the same persona in the same place more than once unless there is purpose to it. Darkstar has entire personalities woven around her many appearances so that all that can be said for certain about her appearance is that she ‘appears’ to be a young woman, probably human. Though she has been known to pose as an elf from time to time.
Whatever else can be said about her, whatever features lay beneath the masks is one of Edarin’s many mysteries.
Weapons, Armor and other Items:
1. A horse named Tavia. While one might say the woman can be known by the mount she is riding, Tavia is a rather ordinary looking horse—a chocolate mare who can look tame with a saddle or wild without one. Her mount is carefully chosen as one that is neither to pretty nor too plain as far as horses go—swift on her feet but lacking extraordinary speed. The perfect horse for a person who doesn’t want to be noticed. Darkstar has trained Tavia to answer to four names in total. The other three, for the record, are Reina, Tarsis, and Soldat.
2. 1 basic dagger.
3. 1 battle axe
4. Basic Leather Armor
5. Extra Clothing: 1 silk dress, 3 tunics (2 cotton, 1 silk), 2 pair cotton breeches, 1 cotton skirt, 2 cloaks (1 cotton, 1 silk w/fur lining), 1 belt, 1 pair boots, 2 pairs shoes (one plain, one formal)
6. Other supplies: 1 bar soap, 1 brush, a bundle of candles (6), ka pouch, cleaning rags, dry rations, wineskin, compass
7. 645 ka
8. Her father’s journal, a prized possession in which he passed to her all the knowledge of her “people”. It will take her many years of study to master the trade.
History: Times change and people change with them. Born on the day her village was burned to the ground, Darkstar knows this intimately. They were words her guardian, a former soldier of the Darendalian militia named Ephram, told her many times in her youth. “My child, you were born under a dark star, and so, I named you according to that birth so that you will never forget what you come from.”
Unlike many assassins who join guilds and learn their trade under many different mentors, Darkstar was trained in the less common assassin’s Art of Deception by the journal her father left for her the day she was born. She had no misled youth that found her eventually tumbled onto assassin’s work—rather, she was born and bred for the work. The village of her parents, a long since gone and even then little known place north of Varin named—again, for the record—Isgaan—was a village in it’s entirety of assassins trained and training in this ‘art of deception’, which they amongst themselves called the ‘way of 100 faces’. Isgaan assassins were famed for this work—which involved a rare assassin’s skill that allowed a person to blend into any crowd, work into any circle without suspicion. Rather than learning stealthy walking and methods to hide in the shadows, the assassins of Isgaan hid in plain sight—a bar mistress, a bard, a nobleman of just the right amount of esteem. They specialized in cosmetics and poisons, though training in weapons was also a focal point—one must also be able to pass as a seasoned warrior when the need arose, after all. This unique many-faced ability of assassins from Isgaan made them well sought after in times of war…and deeply feared in times of peace.
It was this fear that the people of Darendale decided with all due certainty…the assassins of Isgaan had to go. On the eve of morning on the 17th day of years in the year 2996, the assassins of Isgaan woke to find their village a pyre of smoke and flame. Soldiers flanked all sides to slaughter anyone who thought to escape—men, women, and children alike—all were thought too dangerous to be allowed to live. It was within this chaos, deep in the heart of the village a babe was born to a pair of Isgaan parents—Beldas and his wife Imaline. Beldas did his best to keep the flames at bay while his wife birthed their child, but the moment the child tore from Imaline’s womb, the easternmost wall of the home crumbled—seeing the assassins, a soldier rode to be done with him…his spear skewered the woman through the skull before his heart softened at the sight of the harmless infant to be sentenced to death along with the rest of them.
Beldas begged the soldier to take his daughter and keep her secret, safe. His own life mattered little. That soldier was Ephram. He submitted to the request, and with the child Beldas sent his journal in which he’d over the years written many Isgaan secrets. “You will have need of us yet,” he warned. Ephram left him there and rode hard into the night before he could be found. He did not have the heart for slaughter and retired from the militia to take up the simple life where he had his adopted ‘daughter’ and a small farm that grew food enough for two plus a bit extra to take to market and trade for clothing and other supplies. It was not a rich life, but it was a good enough life and one to be proud of. He kept his home in the woods, away from villages, and this kept the child he now raised secret from the outside world. When she was able to read a bit he gave her father’s journal to her—she took to it like a fish to water.
Though she had no memory of her parents or anyone else from Isgaan she felt drawn to the work, intent to somehow avenge them over time, and if her existence was vengeance enough, then she determined she would master this ‘way of 100 faces’ that her father had written about. He categorized poisons and potions in intricate detail, wrote the manner to mold certain clays to alter the appearance of one’s bone structure, he included the characteristic movements of a warrior, of a bard, a thief, a woman and a man’s major emotional discrepancies, the application of various cosmetics and where to find the necessary components to make them.
From about the age of seven she studied this book cover to cover, though it would be many years before she would understand most of it. In the years that followed Ephram taught her as well some of the basic rules of survival that one might learn in the military, as he had once been a military man himself. She learned the basics of combat from simply existing in the same time and place as her guardian, and she learned how to swing an axe to chop firewood—many years later the battle axe—a weapon mostly preferred by the dwarves—remains also Darkstar’s weapon of choice.
As the years passed, Ephram started to notice Darkstar’s appearance changing as the seasons…at first subtle things—the shape of a jaw, the color of the eyes, a shading to the hair—but soon her appearance became completely different from one day to the next and with it the persona she put forth began to alter itself. He found it terribly unsettling and her sense of humor grew more mature, and darker. She’d casually discuss some poison or other while they ate dinner, or tease that he should sleep with a dagger under his pillow.
Eventually they both knew the time had come for them to part ways. She began to feel a wanderlust and wanted to begin to work in the trade of her forefathers. Ephram, who had no taste for remorseless killing, could not bear that, so while they parted on good terms in the summer of Darkstar’s sixteenth year it was with the knowledge that this was most probably a final farewell. She would not return to his doorstep again in the foreseeable future.
Whether or not Beldas survived the inferno at Isgaan or not remains to be proven, but is severely doubted. Though the Darendalian militia took heavy losses attacking a village of assassins, the people of Isgaan were annihilated.
Location: n/a
Psyonic Abilities: n/a