Profile
Name: Hjadana Vishin'ee
Age: 27 Years - 11 Months
Gender: Male
Race: Half-Marsh Elf
Characteristics
Appearance:
Rounding up to an unimpressive 5'11, at least by contemporary elven standards, Hjadana loses most of his heritage by looks alone. Bar the slightly-bulkier-than-slender body stature, he's found himself physically resonating with the latter half of his bloodline - the human side. Lightly pallid skin, accompanied by frostbitten irises, and a gentler posture makes for an interesting character, matched with his personality. Graced with a heavy sway of hair left almost naturally styled, there's an aura of a laid-back soul decorated with a grey quarter of his left fringe. Very few elven features are noticeable, let alone those of the normal elves. His greatest giveaway is the subtle yet sharp prick at the top of his ears; the constant reminder of where he came from. Other than that, he's relatively clean, occasionally well-dressed and a presentable figure amongst a sea of disgruntled adventurers. Out of those adventures, he usually dresses in plain but wonderfully coloured garments, laced with personalised jewelry.
Personality:
Like most people, there are two or more sides to Hjadana. First, there's the common face: that in which most nameless faces see on first glance. A collected individual, to their guess, with a resting face of comfort. It's been that way for as long as he could remember, and Hjadana knows that such an approachability has often given him great opportunities. It transitions into his commitment to the adventure, acting as the driving force to keep at it until the end - as well as the interactions of his allies around him.
On the contrary, there is a great lowness to his personality. Complete with his collectiveness, he's sharp and sometimes deeply silent, being more akin to having conversations arrive at his doorstep rather than for Hjadana to deliver the first word. Such nervousness has prevailed at the worst of times, and can bring out the pessimistic imbalance he feels with himself. He's aware of a lack of personal love for himself, instead finding himself to be quite loathsome, and continuously tries to battle it with the mask of a charismatic, chipper individual.
Gear & Traits
Skills:
- Polearms - Specifically with the glaive, Hjada has spent extensive and apt amounts of his childhood honing his ability with weapons of the class. Having a sharp blade postured into the body of a staff finds itself as the perfect combination, scaling it down ever so slightly to account for his smaller stature. Though they can prove tedious and burdensome in tight spaces, unlike a dagger or shortsword, his nimble fingers and accurate handiwork does its best to negate the troubles of his innate choice of martial fighting.
- Judicious Dexterity - From childhood, he always expressed a talent for his handiwork. Whether its with working on small mechanisms, threading needles or twirling poles between his fingers, Roe'mynn is proud of the skills he can commit to. It proves useful in a lot of situations, such as climbing, as well as tinkering, in compensation for his lacking elemental capabilities.
- Nomadic - Being a nomad isn't just a status of constant movement. It's a lifestyle, in which survival is tested on the daily; where communities have to work together to provide for one another. Food, water, clothing, logistics and protection are the main pillars of a stable community. Rationing, improvised warmth, maintenance and temporary shelters are menial work that he can provide to a small group of travellers alongside him.
Gear:
- Short Glaive - Though the weapon itself was considered a relic of the hunt, Hjadana has taken a strong liking to the proficiency of both the polearm and blade combination. A reinforced wood and iron base was constructed to balance out its weight, allowing for greater control in dexterous strikes.
- Tanto Boot Knife - Boot knives, doubling up for hunting and light craftwork, act as common emergency weapons for dire circumstances.
- Attire - Still rooted within the nomadic clothing he grew up with, layers of scarfs, light jackets and cloth act as protection from the elements and remove the hindrance of weight during combat. Occasionally decorated with belts, wraps, straps and fur, sitting atop of toe-capped boots and the light padding of leather for combat protection.
- Travel Pack - Stored dry meat and grain foods. Two clean cloths. Small waterskin and a whetstone.
Elemental Information
Element: Wind
Abilities:
- Airburst - Having been unable to tap into his elemental capabilities anywhere as much as other magic users of his age, the main reliance comes on using a burst of wind to propel himself short distances. Though traditionally a tool of evasion, other benefits come as dealing swifter strikes, outmanoeuvring well-paced opponents and assisting in both climbing and jumping.
- ??? - On the cusp of achieving a second ability, which would still put him behind his contemporaries, the frustration of achieving a minor understanding of what he can do and then opening the path to mastering it comes with great misery.
History
Background:
And when civilisation thrives, building kingdoms, towns and cities to house its people, there is always a group separated by culture. Nomadic, yet familial, the Sacrani People were a small, closely tied community that moved by foot and hoof across the lands of Mynol. Though not exactly famous, their existence is documented quite nicely by local cartographers and scholars alike. Accustomed to the various swamps, marshes and seas, the tribe thrived alongside the bloodlines of Marsh Elves. At least that was right up until 30 years ago, when the barriers were broken down and several other species were accepted into the ring. A move most controversial, a brooding disturbance came at the cost of internal stability.
Three years later, Hjadana Vishin'ee was born as the biproduct of bastardisation within the communal collective. Two lovers, one marsh-elven and the other human, conceived his existence with great contest from their peers. Whilst he wasn't the first mixed-blooded child to be born into the group, he was the first who seemed like a permanent inclusion. Many others left shortly after birthing their offspring, but things seemed different for the raising of Hjadana. Or at least, they looked stable. Unfortunately, that was not the case. See, his mother, blessed be her soul, was not of nomadic descent. She was the human in the family, and shortly after bringing him into the world, she left his unannounced. The abandonment to his elven father was but the first in many piling issues for the boy.
So, with only a father to look up to, one who never wed his lover, the bastard-child yearned to idolise his parental figure. The marsh elf held a strict demeanour, but he did love his son at the least. Most of what he did outside of clan duties was for the betterment of Hjadana's safety and development. It was more than he could've asked for, and yet the void of his mother's escape left a great hole in his childhood. Without a mother to call his own, he found himself downtrodden on his legitimacy. Worse yet, his half-blood status seemed to have drastic obstructions into developing his elemental heritage. He struggled to even discover his first ability and soon found himself at the will of his lack in self-confidence. This was further exasperated by the climactic shift in power.
The nomadic tribe's size had nearly tripled since the opening of its bloodlines. Though most were still marsh elves, the population became burdensome for both themselves and the attention of one King Ludrix Nacht. With a tight hold of the Kingdom's politics, and the national idea that the 'Slayers' were the dominant third party group under agreement of law, the Sacrani expansion caused many anxious eyes to fall on their potential. Uncooperative with authorities, several scuffles broke out in unexpected coastline territories occupied by the King's garrisons. Where a smaller tribe would pose no worry, the grand size made them far too overbearing. When the dust settled and the few that had been killed were laid to rest, the law came down upon them. Either they destabilised themselves or such a violent clash would be held against them for as long as his dynasty ruled.
Leaders are generally smart individuals, and they know how to get what they see is best. With King Nacht, he was no exception. The tales of the tribe's inner instability as a response to its rapidly expansive nature led to an exploitative radicalisation. Soon, those that were accomplices of non Marsh-Elf tribesmen were set aside, pushed to be second-class to their allies. A day later, the first death occurred, and a second followed hours after. The nomads were in their final stage of reducing their population. A swift move divided them in half, and Kjadana was painted with its ghostly brush. An outcast, of birth right and his failing elemental progress left him vulnerable at the age of 16. He was casted out when things became violent, making it out so much as to see the bruises and cuts caused by their force.
And thus, the next chapter began. He'd found himself where he imagined his mother would've been. Alone in a world where collectives survived and individuals scraped by barely. Though the oceans, marshes, swamps and emerald seas proved to be his true home, he loathed it for what it cradled inside - a fractured home. He hooked himself up with a small band of mercenaries as a junior quartermaster, and stayed with them for shelter and hospitality.
The group almost immediately left the land in search for something else. They travelled between kingdoms and cities, encountering an array of jobs that helped Hjadana learn of the world's variance. He thought little of home in the day and stared in solitude at night. Long story short, the mercenary group got him involved with the wrong people and he soon left, with a little bit of combat experience under his belt and a lot of quartermastering on his metaphysical portfolio. Back alone, he wandered the lands and did odd-jobs and a few small adventures alone. In that time, he finally mastered his first elemental ability and felt a surge of opportunities open up. He explored, helped contractors map out cave systems and used both his dexterity and nimbleness to keep earning enough money to live comfortably between inns, towns and cities.
Now a developed man, using charisma and charm to fly through community's, he tried to bury his colder self for a more optimistic coat of paint. He danced between jobs, fell out with contractors over deliberately not following orders to achieve greater rewards, flirted with death and townswomen on a irregular basis and eventually found the money, time, weaponry and personality to call himself an adventurer. And it was just as he travelled into Lowick where the chaos began. And when it did, the King's request for adventurers was just too hard to pass off. In the end, it didn't matter if he'd succeed, at least not when he first signed up. Either he'd be killed a sinner of personality or he'd complete it and move on.
It was a shame he was so blissfully unaware of the boots he was strapping himself to, or the community that he was surrounded by. Whether they'd be his closest allies, of heartly bonds and relationships, or his biggest adversaries was out of his scope of thought.
