[dir=ltr]Name: Raphæhal Handor’zal Radec Tendon Siphias af-Deasporakx[/dir][dir=ltr]Age: 41[/dir][dir=ltr]Birthday: 6th of Spring and Autumn[/dir][dir=ltr]Gender: Male[/dir][dir=ltr]Race: Half-Xitian[/dir][dir=ltr]Profession: Chemist, Toxicologist and Physician
Backstory[/dir][/dir] [dir=ltr]Appearance
[/dir] [dir=ltr]Skills[/dir][/dir]
Backstory[/dir]
![[+]](/images/collapse_collapsed.png "[+]")
Spoiler[dir=ltr]The city of Eirnsk is in the south of the mainland, on the coast, and often sees trade from the west and east of the Mainland and outlying territories. The city had become prosperous in the early years of the Age of Rebirth following immigration of smaller communities, bringing further trades and workers and by being a majot lynchpin of nearby shipping lanes. Shipyards, smiths and a sizable, disciplined military protected Eirnsk through the worst of the coming Purge and the Civil Wars.[/dir][dir=ltr]Xitian numbers in Eirnsk grew steadily over the years as word of a fair homeland spread through the beleaguered people. It came to be in the city rulers' best interests to protect the Xitians and stay in their good books as they gradually became a larger and larger source of income and expertise in advanced fields that most of the Lucin and Mesalian residents couldn't bring to the table. However, this increase in presence and favour was met with growing loathing from the Lucins and Lucin-sympathisers.
The Purges presented the challenge of keeping their Xitians hidden from those sweeping the realm enacting acts of wilful genocide. They'd be hidden in hidden alcoves and rooms, in the basements and lofts of old buildings or smuggled out of the city through the metaphorical back door. Unfortunately, there would always be that one individual or family that were too slow. Few could say whether these few were martyrs or if their deaths lead the vengeful to leave Eirnsk alone in coming years.[/dir] [dir=ltr]Raphæhal was born in a brothel. He didn't know which of the dozen or so illiterate Mesalian whores was his mother, but he came to treat them as if they were his family with time. They treated him well enough, compared to the patrons and owner, effectively adopting the boy between them (Unbeknownst to him, his Mother ran away in the night a few days after he was born). One can imagine that streets of such a large city were not safe for a whore to wander with a newborn. He never found out who his mother or father were which, for the time being, didn’t really bother the infant Raphael. It wasn't the finest of upbringings, nor the most fulfilling, but he was alive. Even he would admit, it was better than what could have happened had the brothel’s owner thrown him out.[/dir][dir=ltr]He did not get on well with other local children, often being the butt of many jokes and beatings, most especially due to his height and race. It was in this time he came to hate the word ‘bastard’ more than any other thrown at him. The owner of the brothel, as Raphael came to learn, despised him as well, seeing him as only another mouth he needed to pay to feed and bed. Just barely willing to do the former, Raphæhal was kept in the undercroft and fed whatever scraps were left in the morning and at night. During the day he would work around the brothel, bringing food and drink orders to patrons, cleaning the rooms... he hated it. There were days that he would get so riled up that small wisps of grey smoke escaped his lips and his throat and palms itched. he wanted to burn it all down. To his good luck, it never went any further than that.[/dir][dir=ltr]Over the first seven years of being forced to work in that dirty establishment, Raphael developed a loathing for pretty much everyone, whether they were Mesalian, Lucin or Xitian. The only exception to this were the other 'employees' of the brothel. They were in the same situation as he was, it made sense to him that they shouldn't be a target of his contempt. He came to rarely interact with other children, making him incredibly introverted and cold, instead turning to what pencils and paper he could get his hands on by such means as common thievery while the clientele were looking the other way, or when he was trusted with money. The barely educated dullard that ran the brothel never noticed a few coins going missing.[/dir] [dir=ltr]The next year, on the eve of his eighth birthday, things would drastically change. Following a final day of his then life, he simply couldn't satisfy that itch on his palm and in his throat. He coughed small clouds of smoke and embers, which ignited his bedding. He couldn't stop the fire growing and setting the building aflame. He couldn't escape through the locked door, despite beating his hands bloody against it, as far as everyone else was concerned, he died in the fire. He was quick to move anything he knew would catch fire away from a corner of the room to hide himself, wooden boxes, hay. The last thing he remembered before falling unconscious to the smoke filling the room was the entrancing dance of the flames and the smile on his face.[/dir][dir=ltr]His survival was down to the actually strong stone foundations of the building, which held up the ruins above, and preserved Raphael. Looting happened quickly thereafter, and then reclamation as workers toiled to dig up anything re-usable and clear the land a day later. It was to the surprise of an Xitian labourer that he found a starved and just barely alive child in the basement. He didn’t hesitate, and took his find to the others.[/dir] [dir=ltr]Raphael awoke some time later in a dimly lit, stone room. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before, organised, clean even, it had beds and tables and smelled horrible (though he’d eventually come to enjoy the smell of fresh medicines). He was met by his saviours’ two healers, Ezekiel and Droma, following some minutes of making an idiot of himself trying to sit up. Later came an old man, who told him he had been saved by their clan named ‘Deasporakx’ (Day-ass-pore-axe. Translates roughly to Pariah in Common from Xitian). It was a refuge for Xitians inside Eirnsk and the territories surrounding the city, promising a safe retreat from the hatred for their people spawned from Lucin propaganda and past events still fresh in the realm's memory. Having been on the receiving end of some of the worst Eirnsk could offer, while not always at the hands of a Lucin, they felt that Raphael could be valuable. At first, Raphael hesitated.[/dir] [dir=ltr]Unwilling to let the boy go having survived being buried alive and with nowhere else to go, the clan's leader, the old Demagogue Sombrisz let Raphael stay with the clan while he recovered in the care of Ezekiel and Droma. It didn't take long for Raphael to get bored of sitting around, so, because of overwhelming urge, he tried to replicate his actions on the night he burned down the brothel. Unfortunately for him it worked too well and the bed he was using, tables, curtains and anything else flammable near enough to it caught fire. He found it a gratifying sight until his hands and forearms started to burn. The damage was not too severe when Ezikiel and Droma doused the fires and, in an act quite alien to him, asked him what had happened and if he was harmed. Needless to say, this care for his wellbeing was massively influential in his agreement to stay with the Clan, where he felt accepted and would be cared for, treated equally.
The other Xitians were more than happy for him to stay. They were already bleeeding numbers as many Xitians fled Eirnsk, and inducting him young would make him easier to teach. Following several failures, of degrees varying between slight and catastrophic, they found that his talents lay in work around medical and chemistry studies, particularly the study of poisons and venoms. Ezekiel and Droma taught him all they could to help him learn alongside his reading and writing lessons in the Clan's library.[/dir] [dir=ltr]This continued into his mid-teens, when he was allowed by Ezekiel and Droma to be a more independent worker, however he still reported to them. The three became a close knit group among the Clan. They worked together often and helped each others' work. They made quick progress and Raphael learned a lot. Something Raphael learned to enjoy. [/dir] [dir=ltr]Over the years, into Raphael’s early adulthood, the Clan continued to grow in number, albeit slowly, they were just barely growing more than shrinking. When he turned 18, one of the Clan’s protectors, Oberoav, taught him how to defend himself with a broadsword. Ezekiel and Droma continued to train him in herbalism and toxicology, eventually focussing on his advancement in toxicology, where they could as Raphael was beginning to surpass their knowledge in some fields. All the while Raphael became increasingly disdainful of Mesalians and Lucins, hearing of mistreatment and hate directed at the Xitians and half-Xitians. Through his studies, and even more hatefully, a few first-hand accounts and anecdotes from his clan mates, he learned of the Slavery, Purges and, through word of mouth of his clan and around the city, the Civil Wars. He couldn’t really sympathise with any side, the Xitians he read about were enslaving, massacring and generally being evil, the Lucin and Mesalian retaliations didn’t set them above the former either, in some cases they were disproportionate. They were all as bad as each other. Except for those in his little pocket of safety, Deasporakx. The sun could fall into the oceans and the world could erupt in flame, but he’d stick with them to the bitter end. Of course it's not to say that all Mesalians and Lucins were heartless, like the Xitians, a decent number were capable of being helpful to, even friendly with, his clan despite their neighbours' disdain. Inded, Raphael found himself more and more being able to trust the other races' minorities.[/dir][dir=ltr]The Civil War came close to Eirnsk more than once. A trade capital that it was, it was a juicy target for any side. It was a large city, however, and it endured the turbulence. Enough armies, big and small, battered itself uselessly against it’s walls, and no amount of uprisings from within would topple it easily as the ruling castes leaned more and more toward a police state. Still, the people in charge thought it was in their best interest to keep a largely contributing community of well-intentioned and educated Xitians intact. Some times even, the attackers said that they would spare the city if only the Xitians were handed over. This added fuel to a relationship between the races inside already comparable to a tinderbox. In the end, permanent patrols of city guard were stationed around the Xitian community, sealing them in completely. It made things difficult for both sides who wanted to cooperate, but it was certainly better than what others intended to do to them.[/dir] [dir=ltr]Unfortunately, Raphael never did properly get over the urge to start fires, often tearing pages from books just to burn them. When he was eventually caught by Sombrisz, the old demagogue set Raphael a simple task. He gave the young man a set of ivory dominoes and told him to set them up every day, but to never knock them over. It was hard for Raphael at first, thinking he was missing the vital part of dominoes, but he soon learned to control it. Sombrisz told him that if he can teach himself to resist small urges like knocking over dominoes, the larger temptations like starting fires would soon be easier to manage. It was still difficult to resist for a while, but soon he found himself not needing it anymore.[/dir][dir=ltr]It was also in this time that something clicked in Raphael, and he volunteered to teach children at a nearby orphanage maths, language and other skills they might need to get by. If nothing else, he thought it was to give them a better shot at succeeding than he had starting off. As weeks and months passed, the children started to develop some adoration of him. he didn’t think they were too bad to spend time with either.[/dir][dir=ltr]Soon his whole life was regimented and controlled, with very specific and prepared rituals at certain times of day. Soon, his natural energy was controlled, bitterness and anger were locked down and reserved. In the coming years he could almost forget he was capable of manipulating fire.[/dir] [dir=ltr]The time eventually came that Raphael became a trusted member among the Clan, working alongside Ezekiel and Droma to keep their community healthy and, at least somewhat, clean. He had friends he could rely on, people to look to. He had a place in a healthy community of people like him and never once did he have to stoop to a level he came to know as a child. The Xitian community soon became home to the most well-reputed and frequented healers and chemists in the city, despite what Lucins and their sympathisers said about the accused 'witchcraft' and inhumane treatment. Raphael lived the next decade of his life happy, but was too humble, at the time, to believe that this sort of happiness was what he was owed.
Things changed soon as acts of vandalism, arson and violence against Mesalians and Lucins were blamed on the Xitians. At first, people thought little of it as more hot air. But as more and more accusations were levelled against the Xitians and they began to lack the ability to prove otherwise, public opinion began to swing in the other direction, against the Xitians.[/dir] [dir=ltr]Things would change in his late 30s, when opposition against Xitian presence in Eirnsk became increasingly common, with what few Xitians didn’t leave being forced from their homes while law enforcement began to look the other way. It became so bad that businesses and even market stalls began to refuse to serve Xitians in spite of their usually good intentions. It seemed that the Lucins were intent on starving them out. It became bad enough that more and more of the Clan left, including Ezekiel, Droma and eventually Oberoav. Raphael didn’t take his closest friends leaving well. Many a surgical table was flipped in anger and more than once people were shouted out of the clinic. Soon after, few more than Sombrisz and Raphael remained. It was with a heavy sigh that the old demagogue disbanded the Clan, much to the protest of those that remained. However it didn’t take them long to realise that it was the best, if not only, course of action. News about the Dusk Portal re-opening bolstered the morale of the group, and many planned on attempting the return to their homeland, save for Raphael. As much as he knew the others loved him, to others of their kind, especially those that resided so long in the Dusk Realm, he wouldn't be much more than dirt on a boot and would never be allowed passage, if he could even get close enough to see the portal without being gutted. With the others gone, Raphael packed up what belongings he could carry and left. The Xitians were finally pushed out of Eirnsk.[/dir] [dir=ltr]The ensuing year of wandering would proved to Raphael that the world outside of the cesspool that was Eirnsk was no better. In a town of the middle lands of the Main Continent, he was shortly reunited with a member of the former Clan, who warned Raphael of one of the old commanders of the Eirnsk guard, and several under his charge left the guard. She told him that they were intent on finishing off the once peaceful clan and had just recently caught up with Sombrisz who did not survive. Raphael couldn’t, wouldn’t believe it. Sombrisz was in the Dusk realm, exactly where he should be and safe. It was here that Raphael decided he would go somewhere he thought that not even a possibly deranged, genocidal Lucin wouldn’t follow, the Forbidden Lands.[/dir][dir=ltr]Finding passage with a caravan, Raphael was well on his way to finding a port and his way off the Mainlands within a few days. The night before their arrival, to rest the caravan’s horses, they stopped outside one of the old age monuments, some kind of burial site, that still pockmarked the Mainland. A group entered, to check it was safe to shelter there if the weather turned. In the early morning, Raphael was rouse from his sleep, the man saying that one of the group had been injured and, being one of only three capable healers with the group, needed first aid. While the other healers tended to their shared supply and other travellers, Raphael went down. Before they found the injured man, Raphael was already uneasy, the walls were lined with alcoves large enough for coffins and skulls, both real and carved from stone, embedded into the walls. He knew he should have listened to his gut and turned around there and then, but this became clear when the vicious, rotting aggressors assailed them from every shadow, clearly not content with already eating the man he came to help alive. The few caravaners with him tried to stand and fight them off, but were quickly overwhelmed and Raphael lost himself panic overtook his usually collected manner and he ran, ignoring the occasional grab at his clothing and screams from behind. Eventually, only he would escape, hysterical and wailing until consciousness failed him (FYI, This is a fancy way of saying he fainted) upon re-entering the camp. The rest of the group barricaded the entrance with whatever they had on hand and drugged Raphael to keep him quiet overnight. He’d wake up the next day, calmed down but no less shaky. The following days he spent with the caravan, where they were selling their wares, he was making medical supplies for the locals.[/dir] [dir=ltr]It wasn’t until he made acquaintance with a blonde Mesalian-cyclops (Oh, hey, previous characters, hint-hint) and his company of mercenaries, fresh from a fight, that he had any idea where to go next. While fixing them up, he heard a couple of the band’s stories of violence, gold and glory, some were less than entertaining. But most of all he heard of the Forbidden Lands from first hand experience. It sounded ideal. A way out of the petty squabbles of the Main Continent, for the most part, and that a number of Xitians had found a place there. After hearing Raphael’s own story, the cyclops showed some charity and gave him enough gold to secure decently comfortable passage to a town (At least he hoped it was a town) called Nightvale. having already planned on going there, the name of a town, a ship going in that direction and enough money to get there convinced him further. After a night of drinks, cards and dice, he found his boat and boarded.[/dir] [dir=ltr]Raphael fared like any Xitian would on a boat. He spent most of the journey weak and sick, spending more time with his head hanging over the rails than in his own bunk. As far as life experiences went, the next couple weeks were close to the bottom of his very, very long list.
The Purges presented the challenge of keeping their Xitians hidden from those sweeping the realm enacting acts of wilful genocide. They'd be hidden in hidden alcoves and rooms, in the basements and lofts of old buildings or smuggled out of the city through the metaphorical back door. Unfortunately, there would always be that one individual or family that were too slow. Few could say whether these few were martyrs or if their deaths lead the vengeful to leave Eirnsk alone in coming years.[/dir] [dir=ltr]Raphæhal was born in a brothel. He didn't know which of the dozen or so illiterate Mesalian whores was his mother, but he came to treat them as if they were his family with time. They treated him well enough, compared to the patrons and owner, effectively adopting the boy between them (Unbeknownst to him, his Mother ran away in the night a few days after he was born). One can imagine that streets of such a large city were not safe for a whore to wander with a newborn. He never found out who his mother or father were which, for the time being, didn’t really bother the infant Raphael. It wasn't the finest of upbringings, nor the most fulfilling, but he was alive. Even he would admit, it was better than what could have happened had the brothel’s owner thrown him out.[/dir][dir=ltr]He did not get on well with other local children, often being the butt of many jokes and beatings, most especially due to his height and race. It was in this time he came to hate the word ‘bastard’ more than any other thrown at him. The owner of the brothel, as Raphael came to learn, despised him as well, seeing him as only another mouth he needed to pay to feed and bed. Just barely willing to do the former, Raphæhal was kept in the undercroft and fed whatever scraps were left in the morning and at night. During the day he would work around the brothel, bringing food and drink orders to patrons, cleaning the rooms... he hated it. There were days that he would get so riled up that small wisps of grey smoke escaped his lips and his throat and palms itched. he wanted to burn it all down. To his good luck, it never went any further than that.[/dir][dir=ltr]Over the first seven years of being forced to work in that dirty establishment, Raphael developed a loathing for pretty much everyone, whether they were Mesalian, Lucin or Xitian. The only exception to this were the other 'employees' of the brothel. They were in the same situation as he was, it made sense to him that they shouldn't be a target of his contempt. He came to rarely interact with other children, making him incredibly introverted and cold, instead turning to what pencils and paper he could get his hands on by such means as common thievery while the clientele were looking the other way, or when he was trusted with money. The barely educated dullard that ran the brothel never noticed a few coins going missing.[/dir] [dir=ltr]The next year, on the eve of his eighth birthday, things would drastically change. Following a final day of his then life, he simply couldn't satisfy that itch on his palm and in his throat. He coughed small clouds of smoke and embers, which ignited his bedding. He couldn't stop the fire growing and setting the building aflame. He couldn't escape through the locked door, despite beating his hands bloody against it, as far as everyone else was concerned, he died in the fire. He was quick to move anything he knew would catch fire away from a corner of the room to hide himself, wooden boxes, hay. The last thing he remembered before falling unconscious to the smoke filling the room was the entrancing dance of the flames and the smile on his face.[/dir][dir=ltr]His survival was down to the actually strong stone foundations of the building, which held up the ruins above, and preserved Raphael. Looting happened quickly thereafter, and then reclamation as workers toiled to dig up anything re-usable and clear the land a day later. It was to the surprise of an Xitian labourer that he found a starved and just barely alive child in the basement. He didn’t hesitate, and took his find to the others.[/dir] [dir=ltr]Raphael awoke some time later in a dimly lit, stone room. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before, organised, clean even, it had beds and tables and smelled horrible (though he’d eventually come to enjoy the smell of fresh medicines). He was met by his saviours’ two healers, Ezekiel and Droma, following some minutes of making an idiot of himself trying to sit up. Later came an old man, who told him he had been saved by their clan named ‘Deasporakx’ (Day-ass-pore-axe. Translates roughly to Pariah in Common from Xitian). It was a refuge for Xitians inside Eirnsk and the territories surrounding the city, promising a safe retreat from the hatred for their people spawned from Lucin propaganda and past events still fresh in the realm's memory. Having been on the receiving end of some of the worst Eirnsk could offer, while not always at the hands of a Lucin, they felt that Raphael could be valuable. At first, Raphael hesitated.[/dir] [dir=ltr]Unwilling to let the boy go having survived being buried alive and with nowhere else to go, the clan's leader, the old Demagogue Sombrisz let Raphael stay with the clan while he recovered in the care of Ezekiel and Droma. It didn't take long for Raphael to get bored of sitting around, so, because of overwhelming urge, he tried to replicate his actions on the night he burned down the brothel. Unfortunately for him it worked too well and the bed he was using, tables, curtains and anything else flammable near enough to it caught fire. He found it a gratifying sight until his hands and forearms started to burn. The damage was not too severe when Ezikiel and Droma doused the fires and, in an act quite alien to him, asked him what had happened and if he was harmed. Needless to say, this care for his wellbeing was massively influential in his agreement to stay with the Clan, where he felt accepted and would be cared for, treated equally.
The other Xitians were more than happy for him to stay. They were already bleeeding numbers as many Xitians fled Eirnsk, and inducting him young would make him easier to teach. Following several failures, of degrees varying between slight and catastrophic, they found that his talents lay in work around medical and chemistry studies, particularly the study of poisons and venoms. Ezekiel and Droma taught him all they could to help him learn alongside his reading and writing lessons in the Clan's library.[/dir] [dir=ltr]This continued into his mid-teens, when he was allowed by Ezekiel and Droma to be a more independent worker, however he still reported to them. The three became a close knit group among the Clan. They worked together often and helped each others' work. They made quick progress and Raphael learned a lot. Something Raphael learned to enjoy. [/dir] [dir=ltr]Over the years, into Raphael’s early adulthood, the Clan continued to grow in number, albeit slowly, they were just barely growing more than shrinking. When he turned 18, one of the Clan’s protectors, Oberoav, taught him how to defend himself with a broadsword. Ezekiel and Droma continued to train him in herbalism and toxicology, eventually focussing on his advancement in toxicology, where they could as Raphael was beginning to surpass their knowledge in some fields. All the while Raphael became increasingly disdainful of Mesalians and Lucins, hearing of mistreatment and hate directed at the Xitians and half-Xitians. Through his studies, and even more hatefully, a few first-hand accounts and anecdotes from his clan mates, he learned of the Slavery, Purges and, through word of mouth of his clan and around the city, the Civil Wars. He couldn’t really sympathise with any side, the Xitians he read about were enslaving, massacring and generally being evil, the Lucin and Mesalian retaliations didn’t set them above the former either, in some cases they were disproportionate. They were all as bad as each other. Except for those in his little pocket of safety, Deasporakx. The sun could fall into the oceans and the world could erupt in flame, but he’d stick with them to the bitter end. Of course it's not to say that all Mesalians and Lucins were heartless, like the Xitians, a decent number were capable of being helpful to, even friendly with, his clan despite their neighbours' disdain. Inded, Raphael found himself more and more being able to trust the other races' minorities.[/dir][dir=ltr]The Civil War came close to Eirnsk more than once. A trade capital that it was, it was a juicy target for any side. It was a large city, however, and it endured the turbulence. Enough armies, big and small, battered itself uselessly against it’s walls, and no amount of uprisings from within would topple it easily as the ruling castes leaned more and more toward a police state. Still, the people in charge thought it was in their best interest to keep a largely contributing community of well-intentioned and educated Xitians intact. Some times even, the attackers said that they would spare the city if only the Xitians were handed over. This added fuel to a relationship between the races inside already comparable to a tinderbox. In the end, permanent patrols of city guard were stationed around the Xitian community, sealing them in completely. It made things difficult for both sides who wanted to cooperate, but it was certainly better than what others intended to do to them.[/dir] [dir=ltr]Unfortunately, Raphael never did properly get over the urge to start fires, often tearing pages from books just to burn them. When he was eventually caught by Sombrisz, the old demagogue set Raphael a simple task. He gave the young man a set of ivory dominoes and told him to set them up every day, but to never knock them over. It was hard for Raphael at first, thinking he was missing the vital part of dominoes, but he soon learned to control it. Sombrisz told him that if he can teach himself to resist small urges like knocking over dominoes, the larger temptations like starting fires would soon be easier to manage. It was still difficult to resist for a while, but soon he found himself not needing it anymore.[/dir][dir=ltr]It was also in this time that something clicked in Raphael, and he volunteered to teach children at a nearby orphanage maths, language and other skills they might need to get by. If nothing else, he thought it was to give them a better shot at succeeding than he had starting off. As weeks and months passed, the children started to develop some adoration of him. he didn’t think they were too bad to spend time with either.[/dir][dir=ltr]Soon his whole life was regimented and controlled, with very specific and prepared rituals at certain times of day. Soon, his natural energy was controlled, bitterness and anger were locked down and reserved. In the coming years he could almost forget he was capable of manipulating fire.[/dir] [dir=ltr]The time eventually came that Raphael became a trusted member among the Clan, working alongside Ezekiel and Droma to keep their community healthy and, at least somewhat, clean. He had friends he could rely on, people to look to. He had a place in a healthy community of people like him and never once did he have to stoop to a level he came to know as a child. The Xitian community soon became home to the most well-reputed and frequented healers and chemists in the city, despite what Lucins and their sympathisers said about the accused 'witchcraft' and inhumane treatment. Raphael lived the next decade of his life happy, but was too humble, at the time, to believe that this sort of happiness was what he was owed.
Things changed soon as acts of vandalism, arson and violence against Mesalians and Lucins were blamed on the Xitians. At first, people thought little of it as more hot air. But as more and more accusations were levelled against the Xitians and they began to lack the ability to prove otherwise, public opinion began to swing in the other direction, against the Xitians.[/dir] [dir=ltr]Things would change in his late 30s, when opposition against Xitian presence in Eirnsk became increasingly common, with what few Xitians didn’t leave being forced from their homes while law enforcement began to look the other way. It became so bad that businesses and even market stalls began to refuse to serve Xitians in spite of their usually good intentions. It seemed that the Lucins were intent on starving them out. It became bad enough that more and more of the Clan left, including Ezekiel, Droma and eventually Oberoav. Raphael didn’t take his closest friends leaving well. Many a surgical table was flipped in anger and more than once people were shouted out of the clinic. Soon after, few more than Sombrisz and Raphael remained. It was with a heavy sigh that the old demagogue disbanded the Clan, much to the protest of those that remained. However it didn’t take them long to realise that it was the best, if not only, course of action. News about the Dusk Portal re-opening bolstered the morale of the group, and many planned on attempting the return to their homeland, save for Raphael. As much as he knew the others loved him, to others of their kind, especially those that resided so long in the Dusk Realm, he wouldn't be much more than dirt on a boot and would never be allowed passage, if he could even get close enough to see the portal without being gutted. With the others gone, Raphael packed up what belongings he could carry and left. The Xitians were finally pushed out of Eirnsk.[/dir] [dir=ltr]The ensuing year of wandering would proved to Raphael that the world outside of the cesspool that was Eirnsk was no better. In a town of the middle lands of the Main Continent, he was shortly reunited with a member of the former Clan, who warned Raphael of one of the old commanders of the Eirnsk guard, and several under his charge left the guard. She told him that they were intent on finishing off the once peaceful clan and had just recently caught up with Sombrisz who did not survive. Raphael couldn’t, wouldn’t believe it. Sombrisz was in the Dusk realm, exactly where he should be and safe. It was here that Raphael decided he would go somewhere he thought that not even a possibly deranged, genocidal Lucin wouldn’t follow, the Forbidden Lands.[/dir][dir=ltr]Finding passage with a caravan, Raphael was well on his way to finding a port and his way off the Mainlands within a few days. The night before their arrival, to rest the caravan’s horses, they stopped outside one of the old age monuments, some kind of burial site, that still pockmarked the Mainland. A group entered, to check it was safe to shelter there if the weather turned. In the early morning, Raphael was rouse from his sleep, the man saying that one of the group had been injured and, being one of only three capable healers with the group, needed first aid. While the other healers tended to their shared supply and other travellers, Raphael went down. Before they found the injured man, Raphael was already uneasy, the walls were lined with alcoves large enough for coffins and skulls, both real and carved from stone, embedded into the walls. He knew he should have listened to his gut and turned around there and then, but this became clear when the vicious, rotting aggressors assailed them from every shadow, clearly not content with already eating the man he came to help alive. The few caravaners with him tried to stand and fight them off, but were quickly overwhelmed and Raphael lost himself panic overtook his usually collected manner and he ran, ignoring the occasional grab at his clothing and screams from behind. Eventually, only he would escape, hysterical and wailing until consciousness failed him (FYI, This is a fancy way of saying he fainted) upon re-entering the camp. The rest of the group barricaded the entrance with whatever they had on hand and drugged Raphael to keep him quiet overnight. He’d wake up the next day, calmed down but no less shaky. The following days he spent with the caravan, where they were selling their wares, he was making medical supplies for the locals.[/dir] [dir=ltr]It wasn’t until he made acquaintance with a blonde Mesalian-cyclops (Oh, hey, previous characters, hint-hint) and his company of mercenaries, fresh from a fight, that he had any idea where to go next. While fixing them up, he heard a couple of the band’s stories of violence, gold and glory, some were less than entertaining. But most of all he heard of the Forbidden Lands from first hand experience. It sounded ideal. A way out of the petty squabbles of the Main Continent, for the most part, and that a number of Xitians had found a place there. After hearing Raphael’s own story, the cyclops showed some charity and gave him enough gold to secure decently comfortable passage to a town (At least he hoped it was a town) called Nightvale. having already planned on going there, the name of a town, a ship going in that direction and enough money to get there convinced him further. After a night of drinks, cards and dice, he found his boat and boarded.[/dir] [dir=ltr]Raphael fared like any Xitian would on a boat. He spent most of the journey weak and sick, spending more time with his head hanging over the rails than in his own bunk. As far as life experiences went, the next couple weeks were close to the bottom of his very, very long list.
Height: 7’2 / ~218cm (Including topknot, is 7’6 / ~236cm)
Weight: 212lbs / ~96kg
Raphæhal is a lean beanpole before all else, with smokey topaz skin and bright scarlet irises. He has long and wiry limbs. His head is shaved save for a single, jet black topknot sprouting from the rear of his cranium which grows up a few inches, held in shape by a leather strap, and then falls down to just below his shoulders.
Clearly on his hands and forearms are several areas of burn scars and seared flesh where an experiment went wrong or when his temptations resurfaced.
The evidence of his poorly contained fire powers is often evident, be it the occasional flicker of red glow in his eyes, or the wisps of smoke and embers that escape his nostrils and mouth when infuriated or threatened.
He keeps quite a modest clothing palette, rarely extending beyond simple shirts and trousers with a red and yellow or dark teal poncho. He often carries around several tools and pouches on his belt. When working with poisons and medicines he will don an apron and gloves, depending on the circumstances, a black leather mask covering his mouth and nose, held on his head with leather straps tightly encompassing his cranium.
Note: Height and slender build is attributed to marfan syndrome, which at the time would not have been documented, hence why I didn’t mention it elsewhere. He could be considered as getting off lightly in this regard as the symptoms he suffers do not extend beyond excessive height, limb, finger and toe length, difficulty getting comfortable, achy limbs and trouble with extended periods of exertion.
Weight: 212lbs / ~96kg
Raphæhal is a lean beanpole before all else, with smokey topaz skin and bright scarlet irises. He has long and wiry limbs. His head is shaved save for a single, jet black topknot sprouting from the rear of his cranium which grows up a few inches, held in shape by a leather strap, and then falls down to just below his shoulders.
Clearly on his hands and forearms are several areas of burn scars and seared flesh where an experiment went wrong or when his temptations resurfaced.
The evidence of his poorly contained fire powers is often evident, be it the occasional flicker of red glow in his eyes, or the wisps of smoke and embers that escape his nostrils and mouth when infuriated or threatened.
He keeps quite a modest clothing palette, rarely extending beyond simple shirts and trousers with a red and yellow or dark teal poncho. He often carries around several tools and pouches on his belt. When working with poisons and medicines he will don an apron and gloves, depending on the circumstances, a black leather mask covering his mouth and nose, held on his head with leather straps tightly encompassing his cranium.
Note: Height and slender build is attributed to marfan syndrome, which at the time would not have been documented, hence why I didn’t mention it elsewhere. He could be considered as getting off lightly in this regard as the symptoms he suffers do not extend beyond excessive height, limb, finger and toe length, difficulty getting comfortable, achy limbs and trouble with extended periods of exertion.
- [dir=ltr]Fire Manipulation: Basic Use - Has not used his power in almost two decades, so has lost almost all touch with his power and all knowledge of how to use it, however, he still has potential[/dir]
- [dir=ltr]Fencing: Apprentice - Because sometimes things just don’t go your way. He learned how to wield a blade in the Clan, while not an elite swordsman by any means, he boasts some skill in defensive stances and counters[/dir]
- [dir=ltr]Herbalism: Apprentice - He was trained early in his career in the Clan to create the treatments that the Clan's two healers applied where necessary.[/dir]
- [dir=ltr]Healing: Apprentice - The ability to provide treatment for wounds and disease.[/dir]
- Alchemy : Competent - The study of and creation of poisons.
- Brewing - Apprentice - Further to Toxicology, namely the techniques used to make them.
- Toxicology: Expert - Early into his initial training, he showed a particular flair for and later focussed on identifying and treating the venoms and poisons the clan encountered with antivenoms, antidotes and other treatments. With this comes knowledge of how to handle animal and plant specimens.
- Language: Common, Fluent - Xitian, Hillariously bad - Raphael is fluent in the Common tongue, but only has a very basic grasp of Xitian.
Waspish in appearance and personality. Systematic, logical and filled to bursting with sharp intelligence and an abnormal measure of scorn.
He is portrayed as having traits of an obsessive personality, having many 'rituals' and elaborate routines, including cleaning and meditation, that govern his daily life. For example, he acquired a set of dominoes which he sets up in a spiral every day but never knocks over, a way of teaching him to resist small urges, and thereby making the bigger temptation- fire- easier to manage.
Having been in the company of some slightly more bigoted Xitians over the years, he picked up some light tics, namely the racial supremacy. Not to mention his drive, firmly believing that all Xitians are extended family.
This can drive him to be in such a mindset as to appear rude or aloof toward the other races as he may see them as a source of further hindrance when it comes to controlling his urges or mission to accumulate further knowledge. However, this apparent attitude of his is not entirely untrue; he tends to be mistrusting of Mesalians and Lucins and is usually quick to judge them, but has been known to be proven wrong.
He tends only to speak when spoken to or when he has something to add to a conversation, if not he will usually remain silent. Though he almost always has something to add, a sarcastic remark or otherwise. His outward expression rarely deviates from that of a fixed stare or pokerface and rarely smiles. It’s rare for him to laugh in a way that doesn’t come off as sinister or sardonic.
Inwardly, he sees himself as a mongrel and a coward. That he, a ‘half-breed’, is not worthy of any pure-blood’s legacy or even attentions. He believes that it is his duty in life to attend to the needs of these people before all others. Conversely, he has no reservations with other Xitian ‘half-breeds’.
Despite all this, he never stopped having a heart or lose the ability to care for others’ well being, previously earning him some adoration from orphaned children of Eirnsk and a good reputation, as well as a will of steel.
Positive:
Quite hardy and focussed
Has a very good retention of studied topics and information
Quite good with children, particularly orphans with whom he shares a connection
In modern terms, has an IQ of 169
Neutral:
Regards Xitians as extended family
Although-well spoken and intelligent, he frequently uses vulgar and colloquial words.
Would rather retreat into books or meditation rather than interact with others
Negative:
(Mostly) Rehabilitated pyromaniac
HATES Melon and apple
Coimetrophobia and Kinemortophobia (fear of graves/tombs and undead (Specifically ‘zombies’
He is portrayed as having traits of an obsessive personality, having many 'rituals' and elaborate routines, including cleaning and meditation, that govern his daily life. For example, he acquired a set of dominoes which he sets up in a spiral every day but never knocks over, a way of teaching him to resist small urges, and thereby making the bigger temptation- fire- easier to manage.
Having been in the company of some slightly more bigoted Xitians over the years, he picked up some light tics, namely the racial supremacy. Not to mention his drive, firmly believing that all Xitians are extended family.
This can drive him to be in such a mindset as to appear rude or aloof toward the other races as he may see them as a source of further hindrance when it comes to controlling his urges or mission to accumulate further knowledge. However, this apparent attitude of his is not entirely untrue; he tends to be mistrusting of Mesalians and Lucins and is usually quick to judge them, but has been known to be proven wrong.
He tends only to speak when spoken to or when he has something to add to a conversation, if not he will usually remain silent. Though he almost always has something to add, a sarcastic remark or otherwise. His outward expression rarely deviates from that of a fixed stare or pokerface and rarely smiles. It’s rare for him to laugh in a way that doesn’t come off as sinister or sardonic.
Inwardly, he sees himself as a mongrel and a coward. That he, a ‘half-breed’, is not worthy of any pure-blood’s legacy or even attentions. He believes that it is his duty in life to attend to the needs of these people before all others. Conversely, he has no reservations with other Xitian ‘half-breeds’.
Despite all this, he never stopped having a heart or lose the ability to care for others’ well being, previously earning him some adoration from orphaned children of Eirnsk and a good reputation, as well as a will of steel.
Positive:
Quite hardy and focussed
Has a very good retention of studied topics and information
Quite good with children, particularly orphans with whom he shares a connection
In modern terms, has an IQ of 169
Neutral:
Regards Xitians as extended family
Although-well spoken and intelligent, he frequently uses vulgar and colloquial words.
Would rather retreat into books or meditation rather than interact with others
Negative:
(Mostly) Rehabilitated pyromaniac
HATES Melon and apple
Coimetrophobia and Kinemortophobia (fear of graves/tombs and undead (Specifically ‘zombies’