Name:
Toirneach of the Bloodcrow Clan
Race:
Human
Gender:
Male
Date of Birth:
27 Drakonis, 9:13 Dragon
Occupation:
Apostate, Chasind Wilder/Shaman, Shopkeep assistant – sort of.
Companion(s):
N/A
Thick, long, and so black it appears to have a blue sheen to it, these tresses are usually piled on top of his head in a messy bun. Long bangs fall into his face most of the time, though can be hastily swept to the side of his face. Occasionally he will tie a feather into the mess, should he happen to come across one on his travels. On the rare occasion that his hair is let down, it falls to just above his butt and in this state it is obvious to see some curl definition to his tresses. There are also five small and tight braids woven just behind his right ear, each one ending with a small round bone bead and holding a carving of intricate design - accomplishments that to this day he refuses to unbraid. These too can be put up into the mess of hair piled on his head, and he has never once undone these.
Eyes:
Pale green rimmed by darker green for iris’, these eyes are surrounded by thick dark eyelashes and occasionally outlined in kohl for a more dramatic look.
Other:
Torin is darker skinned than most townsfolk in Ferelden, his complexion a bit fairer than his brethren but brown nonetheless. His face is probably his most well kept feature which is blemish and mark free save for a small beauty mark under his left eye. This he has a ritual of washing daily, and using a mixture of moss, elfroot and a few other ingredients mashed together to create a moisturizer. He also has created his own exfoliant and uses a small knife to keep his face clean shaven.
Various bite marks and scratches dot his flesh here and there below his neck, though the most prominent of these would be the large gash on the left side of his torso. The mark of a duel between him and another wilder folk. Teeth marks mar his skin just at the slope of his neck on the left side as well, a tangle with a wolf earning him that trophy. Scratches and other such marks are common simply from his travels and he has a story for every one of them, even when he can’t remember how he got it.
Feminine is a word that could describe him easily; a prominent adam’s apple marks him as male but the rest of him has a petite look to it despite his height, giving him a sort of slender dainty “pretty” appeal with larger eyes, long lashes and fuller lips than most men. He wears what muscle he has well, his arms toned from wielding a staff while the rest of him is fit from a rather constant state of travel. Most of this is usually hidden under clothing however, his muscle tone visible pretty much only when his garments are removed.
Hidden from view most of the time, he also has a bite mark on his right hip, though this one can be half spotted if he’s just wearing pants. He also has a beauty mark/birthmark on the upper right of his buttcheek.
Should he ever make it into a planned battle, Torin would more than likely make a point of re-creating his clan’s war paint; thick smudges of black that surround the eyes and paints across the bridge of his nose, with two fat lines of red running down his cheeks. His lips would also be stained red, though it was encouraged to let this smear a bit to give the illusion of blood; “killing” with the teeth much like a wild animal would.
Class:
Mage
Specialization:
N/A
Weapons & Armor:
Weapons:
A Yew staff that has been stripped of it's bark save for the knots in the wood. The top of the staff has been formed in a way that holds a rather large smoothed and clear peridot colored stone. Leather cord has been wrapped around the upper part of the staff as well, holding a few feathers and stones that have caught his fancy. A thicker and darker leather has also been wrapped around the part he holds most. The bottom of the staff has been carved lovingly into a small shape of a crow’s head, a tiny red gem glittering for it’s eye; an honor he won from proving himself as a “warrior”. If anyone asks, he calls it his glorified walking stick, or comes up with an even more amusing tale on the spot as the situation calls for it.
He also carries a small iron dagger on him at all times, the bone handle shaped to that of a wolf. More of a keepsake than an actual weapon, though he does keep it sharp. It belonged to his mother.
Usual Garments/Armor:
Chasind “robes” are the usual garments of choice, dark bits of leather sewn together to form pants, the bottoms of which tuck into a pair of boots that were also patched together. Around his neck a leather string has been looped twice and on it hangs a wolf’s tooth as the main pendant; supporting it with animal talons on either side. On his left upper arm two pieces of dark leather have been thickly stitched together and are tied there while his right forearm sports a leather bracer decorated in white owl feathers. He has a set of pauldrons that match said bracer and his chest is kept usually bare. Going into places of population however, he quickly learned to don a “trenchcoat” of sorts; more robe-like than what he usually sports and hangs down to just above his ankles and also a leather patchwork mess. His color choices are usually dark browns to blacks with the occasional red should he find it.
Torin has been known to crossdress from time to time to get out of trouble, or in more trouble depending on how you look at it. Put him in a pretty enough dress and it’s difficult to distinguish him from a rather flat chested female, especially when he lets down his hair, his androgynous looks aiding him in this. Also, give him enough time and stuffed socks or other off hand items can easily fill in for an acceptable “rack”. Should he speak however, the ruse would be over rather quickly, his voice on the deeper side.
Languages:
Common (fluent in spoken, limited writing) Fluent in his clan's dialect.
Non-Combat Skills:
Novice: Cooking(fish), Crafting(bone and wood beads and rudementary shaped figures), Swimming
Intermediate: Brewing(wildwine), Drinking, Coercion, Fishing, Natural Lore, Running, Wilderness Survival
Expert: Alchemy, Acrobatics, Climbing
Master: Arcane Lore - Chasind
Combat Skills:
Novice: Barrier, Mana Drain, Mind Blast, Drain Life, Shock
Intermediate: Lightning Bolt, Horror, Paralyze
Expert: Telekinetic Weapons
Master: Animate Dead
Women seemed to respond to his face and his lack of knowledge with personal boundaries/social norms more in the villages he first frequented than anything he had encountered within his tribe life. It was a surprising and confusing response that he quickly adapted to however. Torin rather enjoys charming both men and women, and while he’s learned that most people have a personal bubble they would rather not have intruded upon, he takes a quite a bit of joy at pushing the envelope.
Underneath his casual and playful nature however there can be a more calculating and darker side to the man. One does not grow up in the wilds simply by frolicking, and the tribe within he originated from demanded a much more combat reaction to things. For as friendly and carefree as he tends to act, most people are kept at a distance emotionally wise and he’s not afraid to “bare his fangs” so to speak.
9:13 Dragon - 9:19 The beginning (Age 0-6)
Toirneach was born the youngest out of seven siblings, four other brothers and two sisters, all offspring of the Shaman of the Bloodcrow Clan. His namesake was created from the stormy weather that had happened most of that week, his name basically meaning ‘thunder’. Development for him was normal for a chasind lad; learning how to help around with little things the tribe needed when he was old enough to understand.
It was around the age of five that he met and befriended another wilder boy within their same tribe, by the name of Taias and the two became inseparable from that point on. Even a year later, when Toirneach started to show signs of magic, much to his father’s delight, Taias did not shy away.
Taias’ parents even delighted in having the boy play with their son, so much so that they took it upon themselves to pass on what knowledge they knew of reading and writing, something he picked up rather easily, though his abilities in such tasks remain far from refined.
9:19 Dragon - 9:25 Dragon Hand Me Down Magic(Age 6-12)
Training with his father and two older brothers,(Dúbhshláine and Vercingetorix) began the moment he showed any sort of talent for any magic. It was hard and strenuous work, coupled with the fact that their father not only passed down the generational family teachings of spirit spells, -different from the primal spells most clans learn and a secret that has been guarded rather jealously, born long ago in relation to their worship of the bloodcrow and their mistake in regarding it as more of a spirit rather than the actual ghoul it is- but physical training as well, such as how to dodge or actually get into a physical fight. Their father did not show favoritism in any sense of the word and often he and his siblings were chosen to spar one another. There was no stopping until the man said so and on more than one occasion there had been the thought that today was the day he was going to die.
They were allowed one day a week to rest completely, training taking up the other part of their time from dawn until about midday when other chores would have to be completed. While his siblings often took this day to actually rest; Toirneach found other means of amusement and trouble, sometimes putting his spells into practice when he and Taias went off on their own. One such incident resulted in Taias not speaking with him for a whole month however, after Toirneach rather cruelly blew up a bird. It would anger the gods was all Taias had said. He has been a little more careful of random displays of magic ever since.
At age eleven Toirneach was allowed to go on his first raid, his face painted up in red paint and his long hair tied up on his head for the first time. It was then too that he first actually sought out his reflection, wanting to see if he looked as fierce as the rest of his tribe. It sparked a vanity in the boy that still lingers within him to this day and from then on, he cared for his face far better than many of his clan. Later he would also practice in secret some of the “wise woman’s” herbology, creating his own facial moisturizer as well as the more “feminine” recipes like incense. It was on this trip however that he earned his first braid, showing courage beyond his years despite not actually taking a life.
9:25 Dragon - 9:29 Dragon(early) Blood of my Blood - Execution(Age 12-16)
These four years growing into manhood proved difficult for Toirneach, the training grew harder and intensified. Drawing a little bit of blood no longer always meant the end of their sparring and when he was of fourteen years, the eldest brother in training, Vercingetorix, slew Dúbhshláine. This moment changed the rules, their father praising Vercingetorix for a job well done rather than showing signs of remorse. That he left up to their mother. His brother earned himself three braids for such a feat, though the fight clearly ended up haunting the boy.
One more year passed before it came to be his turn, a sparring match turned into an actual fight that lasted the better part of a day and some of the night. Stormy and wet, it was here that Toirneach discovered a bit of magic on his own - a bit of a hedge mage at heart - and the ability to cast lightning was ultimately what ended up saving him. Pitted against his brother, he earned the gash that is visible on the left side of his torso, and ended up slaying his brother, shocking him with a bolt of lightning before driving a blade through his heart, the first life Toirneach ever took.
It put his status just below that of his father as an official apprentice, his age just fifteen. Four more braids were earned along with the crafted staff he still uses to this day. And, if he thought the training before was hard and trying, he was sorely mistaken. Herbology on a bigger scale was drilled into him along with more deadly spells of draining magic as well as raising the dead. And just when it seemed as though there was nothing left to learn, his father tied him to a rather large and ominous looking ritual rock, stuffed his mouth full of drakestongue and waited with absolutely no explanation.
9:29 Dragon(later) Test of the Spirits (Age 16)
It took all of about thirty seconds for all hell to break loose, Toirneach “awakening” to find himself in an illusion of what he envisioned at the time to be ideal. His brothers both still alive and at his side as he assumed the title of Shaman, having slain their own father for the title. There was little love for the man that sacrificed his own offspring for the “greater good.” The dream sat ill in his stomach however, the urge to move out and explore twisting the illusion to the point of disbelief. If he were truly Shaman, then there were certain things he should be doing and would be doing. Also, being himself, natural instincts were to get up and move about. And yet here his brothers and other siblings continued to insist that he should rest. Relax. Everything was just fine.
In the end, Toirneach ended up having to “kill” his “siblings” all over again, their faces eventually shattering into those of demons. He passed said “test” with flying colors, though upon awakening, there was a new goal to his life.
9:30 Dragon - 9:32 Father no Longer and the Blight(Age 17-19)
No sooner had he calmed down from the drug induced hallucination and thus fade entry of his test, did he challenge his father for position of Shaman. The man was already weary and withered more than most, considering his years, and Toirneach’s age contrasted greatly in comparison. It was almost too easy of a battle, as if it was exactly what the old codger had been waiting for, and was over within a matter of minutes. The implications of such a feat did not register until a few hours later when those of the clan began to beseech him for information and guidance.
His experience with such a title did not last long however, the blight erupting and tearing their world apart in the span of a day and only a month after he had taken up his father’s title. Where yesterday’s problems had been only who would go with him on a raid and who would go fishing where, suddenly it was how to get everyone out and safely through other clan’s territories.
Fleeing did not bode well for their tribe, most wiped off the map completely by either darkspawn or other tribes who were also fleeing, and in the end it was only Taias and himself who remained. Taias made it to the outskirts of Lothering before succumbing to the darkspawn taint, taking his own life rather than having Toirneach do it for him. He parted with some flowery words that were for Toirneach’s ears alone and will probably never be repeated, which was as close to any sort of romance the man had encountered up until this point.
Taias’ death put some urgency on Toirneach to move out of this particular city, feeling far more comfortable in the wilderness rather than mingling with people. He avoided the blight hitting Lothering and headed, unknown to him, in the direction of Redcliffe.
9:32 Dragon - 9:35 Dragon Redcliffe - A whole New World(Age 19-22)
Traveling to Redcliffe opened up his eyes in many different ways; some from studying various people he encountered to the open idea of flirtatious encounters, though he has yet to actually “Lick a Lamppost in winter” so to speak. Still, out here, no one knew him to be the son of a shaman, though he quickly learned to not put his magic on display when he encountered his first templar. Lucky for him the man was intoxicated and just about as disoriented as the rest of the people fleeing; though he only needed to feel his mana drain once to know that he didn’t want to encounter it again. He grieved on his own time, creating tribute statues to those faces in the village he did not want to forget; simple carvings on bits of wood, stone or bone.
His first encounter with attractions in the outside word came in the form of pouty lips, long dark hair and brown eyes, her actions far more aggressive than those of the women in his tribe. There, women were to do women things. Tend to cleaning and clothing along with food. Men were the warriors and they provided. It didn’t take him long to figure out that out here, the tables were sometimes flipped. He offended the girl with said suggestions that she might be better off cooking him a meal, to the point of her leaving - after giving him a good hard slap across the face. From then on, it was a simple matter of study and practice.
Flirting and casual conversation quickly came easily to him, making a game out of getting a woman to laugh or how long it would take to make the ears of a man burn red while he stuttered over flustered words. Falling into the populated world was downright entertaining and while he had managed a hut just outside of Redcliffe, it was soon very easy to convince a local shop-keep woman(Nadia) at a rebuilt general store, to allow him to stay in the room above, paying her in lotions, scrubs and incense he would create as well as his overall charm, even sometimes helping around the store. Money however is still something that escapes him and he is not allowed to handle such affairs. Nadia is also whom Torin will borrow his womanly clothing from, sometimes to her displeasure, fitting in them better than she can.
In recent months, Nadia was able to open a second shop in Kirkwall, and has convinced Torin to travel with her while she sets things up. It is here that he currently resides, content with the simple life he has created for himself, unwilling to forget the past but not willing to allow it to keep him held prisoner when there is so much world to explore and get to know.
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