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Venara; Icefalls I & 2, DC RP
Topic Started: Nov 16 2009, 10:01 AM (179 Views)
Latanya
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lawful good intelligent asshole
Username: Saryk

Name: Venara

Age: 30-something, probably.

Race: human – though in his case, human is relative.

Weapons: A claymore with a size of a bit less than two meters, a knife that anyone but him might call a short sword already and a little talent in healing magic. This ability makes his wounds heal at a quite fast pace and increases his endurance, yet works subconsciously without him being able to control it or to heal others.

Appearance: Posted Image
As a nomadic tribe living deep in the Drazain Mountains, isolated from any contact involving more interaction than pure merchandize with other tribes for millenniums, Venara’s tribe’s has developed a unique genetic code. With a height of nearly 9’7”, Venara is slightly beneath the average of his clan, and of a figure that would be reckoned as monstrous in the costal civilization; within his clan, however, was reckoned as nearly feminine looking.

Among other people, Venara and other members of his tribe are seen as monsters, sometimes called giants, sometimes trolls, sometimes orcs. The reasons are not only their brawny figures. Their teeth, originally not differing from a normal set of teeth, were pointed artificially from the earliest childhood onwards following the millennium old traditions and rituals of the Drazain clan. Boys, to advance into the rank of an adult, have to sacrifice their right eye, the one that sees the world with the innocent view of a child, as they say, to the spirits guarding the tribe by stabbing it out by themselves and feeding it to the domestic dogs of the clan. All this makes Venara resemble more a beast than the human he is at the first sight.

Venara, contrary to his tribe’s traditions, wears clothing and weapons. The outworn black cloak gives him a misshaped silhouette, the time-worn pants are full of holes and the boots have lost most of the glint they had when Venara had stolen them.

Personality: Venara is barbarian, killing whenever he feels like it, taking whatever he wants and going wherever he wants to go. The only rule he has ever respected is the rule of wilderness: eat or be eaten. However, there is still some friendliness and regard inside him, although it might not be easy to see for people not raised in the way Venara was. The harsh behavioral pattern his mother and elder sisters have implanted in him permits him to harm a woman (in case he recognizes her. To him, all humans not from his clan look the same) – if he did and his mom would find out, he’d be screwed in the afterlife. Also, he finds the weirdest things cute; due to a stroke against his forehead when he was a kid, as his friends tended to say.

Bio: Venara was raised in the Drazain Mountains as a member of a clan of barbarians, with a doctrine of ideals and thoughts of the religious and mundane beliefs of his tribe, not even thinking about questioning the way the world was built for him back then. Still, he had always been a dreamer. He preferred to spend his time alone in the tundra, trying his best to find excuses such as going hunting, or getting water in order to get around housework or the muscle exercises most children did together. As a result, Venara’s body became what his tribe members called girly – with hardly enough power to kill a bullock with bare bands and with senses not even fine enough to trace a rabbit.

When Venara reached the age when he was ready to join the ranks of the adults, following the traditions of his tribe he left the safe community and spent two years in the wilderness, equipped with the gigantic claymore of over two meters length that only members of his clan used and the knife that was used to disembowel an animal, to prove that he was able to survive on his own and thus worthy to be a full-fledged member of his tribe. During this time he was two times on the edge of dying; once as a reindeer knocked him out and the whole flock used him as a doormat, the other time towards the end of his probation period. As he was taught, he approached the field where knew, or thought to know, that his tribe was at the time of the year and cut his right eye out about two day’s marches away from the place. As it was custom, he made the rest of the way without treating the wound. When he reached the campground, the only living creatures where were a bunch of lemmings that simply ignored him. Venara simply gave up – after two years of nothing but the struggle for life, he was fed up with it. In acceptance of his certain death he fell asleep.

He was quite surprised, when he woke up again with quite a big appetite. Venara doubted that he would ever find his tribe again, although he was sure that they were all sill alive but head just changed their habits while he was gone. The tundra was big, and the snow eradicated any traces very quickly. It was nearly impossible to find a moving target again.

Still Venara decided to start the pointless search for his family – there was nothing else he could do after all, and although he had seen two strangers, very small and fragile looking merchants, when he was still a child, he was not even sure that there were other people in the world. He did not use a fixed scheme to search for his tribe, they were nomads, after all – there wouldn’t be a significant difference in the chances of finding them. He simply wandered around as he had done before; barely surviving the winters, more or less surviving the summers.

During this time he found a village, the first fixed settlement he knew. The strange people so much tinier than him were apparently thinking that he was some kind of beast; the few ones that didn’t run away when they saw the one-armed and one-eyed giant with the sharp teeth attacked him pretty hesitantly. Venara, who thought that that these dwarfs were a species of animal he had not encountered yet, killed those that attacked without even thinking much about it. Only when the dead bodies were lying in front of him and he saw how similar they were to his own, only much smaller, he realized that they must have been of the same kind as the merchants that he had seen decades ago. Somehow he managed to grab one of the dwarf’s collars and took it with him, simply ignoring the other dwarfs that were running around like snow grouses.

During the time that he held the dwarf hostage he forced her – it was a woman, at least she had said so, which was the reason why didn’t harm her – to teach him the strange language they spoke. It was not too different from his mother tongue, so it did not take him too long to learn. He finally let the dwarf go a few months later near another settlement of the dwarfs – humans, as they called themselves, and thus also him, since now he was convinced they were of one race.

Many years later he was attacked by a bear that ripped off one of his arms before he managed to kill it. Again, he survived, and again he didn’t expect it. With one arm he still was able to use his claymore, yet only with arduousness and with by far not enough accuracy to be able to survive a winter. He decided to go down, simply always down the mountains, until he reached what his parents had told him about once –the sea, a mass of water that was too big for him to imagine, populated by many dwarfs running around everywhere. They wouldn’t be able to give him his arm back – no-one could, he knew that – they probably would be able to give him a decent sword that was maybe a bit shorter than and not quite as heavy as the one he carried now.
Out of my mind. Back in five minutes.

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The problem is, you can't tell people how to raise their kids - unless they're Austrian, in which case, you're gonna have to.

Ed Byrne.
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