Name: Maltien Rsalu

Age: 25

Race: Human

Appearance:


Bio: War, struggles, death... heh al good business if you ask me. It's what has kept coin in my pocket and people off my back, it has made me fast and strong, and taught me to trust few people for only as long as they are useful. When the High King was slain from his throne my village was the first to feel the creeping darkness of his failure, and within a small childs wink burned to the ground the corrupt had rot. From their I learned many things the harshness of slavery, the despair of watching my family members die one by one, and the darkness of being forced to kill.

My grandfather had been a knight in his younger days and was well liked... I feel it twas good he died before this nightmare for he was a good man, and would have foolishly tried to rebel even with his body now reduced to a old stick. He did keep one thing from his knighthood days a brilliant crimson spear with a well balanced tip... when my family died at the overuse of our "master" he had decided it was time to make use of the useless slaves... and thus would begin my gladiator days at the age of 13. I was thrown in a pit with a few other slaves who were considered weak, thieves caught, murderers. I watched in horror as they tore each other asunder to stay alive the almost winner a thief who had been caught stealing from my "masters" vaults... he turned to me with blood red eyes the color of crimson stained all over his body... I remember the look on his face as he turned to his final opponent... me. I heard a man yell "make this a fair fight" I never saw his face all I heard was the sudden clatter of a shocking sight. My Grandfathers spear falling near my feet a weapon still to big for me to properly hold. The man roared in a blood dripped rasp as he aimed to earn his life back... yet he never reached me for when I had picked up the upper half of the spear the back had been wedged to the ground causing a good solid back as the man impaled himself upon its blade... I was declared the victor. I was thrown out of the carnage of my once peaceful village my "master" kept his word and I drug my bloody weapon into the unknown wilds.

Years past and I got stronger to the point I could wield and sharpen my spear, and my skills. I joined and left many a groups taking what I needed, and leaving before trouble would destroy them. I slowly got into the mercenary line of workings selling my Spear for the ones with the bigger pockets until I had enough coin to separate my self from them for awhile. Lately though talk of a renewed rebellion has spurned the attention of darker forces... it seems it is nearly time to repay my first "master" a visit, and retake my village... hopefully their is still something, or someone to reclaim.

Personality: Its hard to describe Maltien he isn't exactly cold yet he isn't very warm either. He seems to have a bit of a warriors code as he will not kill a child nor slay a woman. That doesn't however stop the fact that he will not defend himself, and knock or wound either out if forced, but no killing blow will be delivered. He does keep a calm demeanor in most situations, and can be found to be good company over a drink. He doesn't mind the other races though for some strange reason he seems weary of elf's. He wont tolerate people being tortured, and can turn very bloody in such situations quick.

Faction: Mercenary yet hints to the Higher Order.

Gift: non

Weapon(s) of choice: Spear of Calcifer, and a crimson red left hand guard.

Relationship/loved ones?: Neither have had time for such things, nor have met any woman crazy enough to deal with me.

Other: I do enjoy a good apple.

Borniveth was born into the house of Ealond, in the city of Dorden. But one could say she was born at a wrong time. The house of Ealond, or more precisely, two elves from that house, were slaves here in Dorden. Her parents didn’t plan on pregnancy and it was a really shocking moment, for both of them. Raising a child in slavery already sounded as a horrendous task, but just waiting till the fruit grows up in the womb would prove as an almost impossible task. There were no privileges for pregnant woman, they were supposed to slave away all day, no matter how hard it was for them. Or were they sick horribly that day, or if they were feeling weak or passed out several times that day – nothing. Day by day passed and both parents started losing hope for a healthy baby of theirs. Her mother was starting to get extremely weak, but both of them managed to pull through.

The fruit was born.

A beautiful, red-haired girl. Borniveth, the name was given to her, because of the color of her hair. To her parents’ surprise, she seemed to be strong baby, despite the environment her mother was in. But her mother was not able to see how her precious would turn out, because she closed her eyes, with a huge smile on her face, never to open them again. It was a crushing blow to her dad Miron, but he had to stay strong, because he had a daughter to take care of. While it was really difficult, he had help from a few woman slaves and with their help, Borniveth managed to survive and grow up.

She was slaving just as everyone else as soon as she could work, and this is how her life was for a long time. While a routine of “wake up, work, eat, work, sleep” was her life, Miron was concerned about her education and kept smuggling books in for her to read. He started teaching everything that he could know himself, he told the stories of their house, about how big and vast it is and that if one day they get out, they would go and meet them all. Borniveth was picking up on everything extremely quickly. She found all the books fascinating and has reread them at least three times, before asking for another ones.

This girl was really quick and sharp on her mind, and strong in will. She would do what she was told to do and even more and her slaver started noticing her. She was the gray sheep, between all the white ones, but it was her ticket. One day, the slaver approached her, asking if she wouldn’t mind changing her workplace and help him directly. Borniveth could not pass up such a great opportunity, as it was probably the one and the only time such a chance would ever given. From a laborer, who kept weeding, tilling and kept doing difficult physical labor, now she only had to bring around tea and clean the rooms. The salver had awful load of books, and while at first she was little hesitant to ask, eventually she asked if she could read some of them. Slaver himself was hesitating to let her do so, but couldn’t find any reason not to. And little by little, year by year, her life went into monotony again. She kept reading and educating herself, while doing simple tasks for the slaver. She was allowed to meet with her father from time to time, and talk with him to share their experiences.

She reached her sixties. At this time she was a really smart and educated elf and the slaver knew that. One day, two armored men entered her room and she was told to pack up her things, because she was leaving. It was confusing at first, but the men seemed to be serious, so she just rushed, packed a bit of her clothes, got a few of her favorite books and followed the men out. Just as she was leaving the slavers house, he was standing by the door, smiling at her. Borniveth didn’t know what feelings that smile held and that deepened her confusion even more. Where was she taken? Will she be taken back to dirty slave labor? She couldn’t tell. As they went outside, it was raining and the whole day was really gray and dark. She remembers it really clearly. She kept following those men, walking around the puddles and mud, climbing up and down the stairs of stone. The flags, were waving crazily, up on the high watchtowers. Eventually, they stopped. They stopped by a cart. Both men climbed inside and told her to do the same, and not knowing what she was supposed to do, she climbed after.

She was to be taken somewhere and she was confused as to what is going on. The only option was to ask both of these men, where she was taken and the answer has shocked her. The slaver has set everything up, he suggested her as an advisor in a council of a nearby city of Pathea. And she was accepted. It was one of the important days for her. At the start of her days in the council, her words were not taken seriously, she was allowed to speak up, yet the other members didn’t follow. It took her a really long time, until the council started trusting her and her decisions, but Borniveth herself didn’t trust them. She felt alien sitting in the council, and while it was an enviable position, she felt that it’s not something for her. Maybe with someone else sitting on the throne, instead of Fusos, she would’ve liked it. She hated his decisions and the way he ruled, yet she kept it to herself, not to lose her position.

Yet a day came, where Borniveth couldn’t take what Fusos was doing anymore and she planned her escape. She was planning to do so for weeks and that day was the one she’d run and betray the tyrant. She attended the council meeting as per usual and after it, she headed back in the direction of her room, but she never reached it. That was one warm day of winter, and the weather was really messy. You couldn’t say if it was raining or snowing, or hell decided to mix with earth. Borniveth had a backpack ready beforehand, consisting of things she’d need to survive for a while, and she knew that a search for her would be started either right as she crossed the gates of the city or the next day, when her absence is noted. Before moving, she bent her knee by a little puddle, and looked at her own reflection in it. She groped the mud from it and smeared it on her hair. She kept doing in, until her hair seemed as dark as coal. She looked back at the puddle and she looked like another person. She looked as a simple peasant, dirty and weak. She smiled at herself, stood up and went after the gates. It was a night of new moon, so it looked extremely dark, and she could see the guards clearly, walking around on the cold walls, their warm breath suddenly condensing and turning into steam. As the gates were closed, she couldn’t just ask them to open them, she had to go outside using one of the escape paths in the castle, made for emergency.

That was the night when Borniveth disappeared and died in the cold. She probably was eaten by a pack of wolves, or a bear and her cub. Borniveth was gone. But even if that night took a life, it gave the world another. Darlith was born in that cold and messy night. An elf, that couldn’t get back to her roots, of nobility and light. Someone, who would be hiding most of her life.

A long time has passed, almost a hundred years, and the search for Borniveth wasn’t as hot. They were still searching for her, hoping to find the traitor and punish her, but years of fruitless search has made them go easy on it. During the first days, rumors that she died in the cold were passed around, yet no remains of her body were ever found. Darlith had a little easier time, moving around and living her life. She had become a simple outlaw, someone she would have not believed if she was told when she was in her youngsts. It’s what the world made her do it, and she started enjoying what she was doing. One thing she had not forgotten about was her passion for books and studies, but now she actually started looking for the ancient relics that she has read about in her books.