Scathael
(Generated via StarryAI)Scathael Arash ⋆ 267 ⋆ Male ⋆ Dark Elf
Appearance
Height:1.85 m (6'0")
Build:Fit
Hair Color:Greyish white
Hair Length:Short
Eye Color:Hazel brown, bordering on amber
Skin Tone:Dark grey
Distinguishing Features:His hands and arms are speckled with burns and healed scars.
Psychology
Likes:
⋆ Solitude
⋆ Seeing new sights
⋆ Finding new materials to work with
⋆ Making / repairing things
Dislikes:
⋆ Overly-elaborate designs
⋆ Inefficiency
⋆ Surprises
Fears:⋆ To be unable to wander anymore
⋆ To be trapped in one place
⋆ To lose those he cares about
⋆ To be revealed in-RP
Habits/Quirks⋆ Whenever possible, he whittles wood into arrow shafts when idle
⋆ He scribbles into a notebook every now-and-then, especially after visiting somewhere visually impressive or new to him
Sexuality: Straight
Personality:⋆
Behavior towards others is: extroverted or introverted.Scathael will only interact with people as much as he needs to. No more, no less. It’s not the interaction he minds, you see. It’s that it’s – to him – a needless distraction from more pressing work.
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Where on the spectrum of selfish to selflessIf he has something you need, and he himself doesn’t need it, then it’s yours if you ask. Just don’t expect him to give it on his own volition, and be prepared to have a very convincing argument if the thing you need happens to be raw materials. He can be quite the hoarder with such things.
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Where on the spectrum of kind to mean. He wouldn’t go out of his way to be mean, but neither would he make much effort in cushioning a heavy blow.
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Is your character affectionate? Do they enjoy hugs and being touchy?No. He has it in him, but he has no reason to show it.
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Is it hard to gain your character’s trust? Scathael doesn’t trust people easily. It can happen, but it’ll take plenty of time and effort. Perhaps more than what most can be expected to give.
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Easy to anger or does your character usually remain calm? What about irritation?Anger requires care, and Scathael honestly cares little for anything beyond his work to be easily roused to anger. He can, however, be easily irritated.
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Patient or impatient. Is your character impulsive?On a day-to-day basis, he’s rather patient. He doesn’t quite mind waiting days or even weeks to acquire the materials he needs for a project. That said, when it comes to finding said materials, he can be easily spurred to action by mere rumours of something rare or just difficult to acquire.
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Brave or Cowardly? Are they brave to the point of recklessness?He’s as brave as he needs to be. Risks are calculated, and he sees no shame in running from a hopeless fight or declining an overly-dangerous task.
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Anxiety hold you back? Do you get nervous?Not much; he’s sure enough of his abilities to do most things confidently. However, he does get antsy if he’s working with something which he knows he can’t easily get a replacement for.
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Reaction speeds to situations.Travelling alone has given him decent instincts. He might not be the fastest around, but he certainly knows when danger's near and how to react accordingly.
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Intelligence level: Are you a cunning mastermind?Scathael has a quick mind. He picks things up easily, but there’s a catch. It has to be something he’s very much interested in. Anything less than that and he switches off so quickly that barely anything gets into his head. So if it comes to a topic that he's knowledgeable in, he'll likely be able to think or outsmart his way out of trouble. Outside of that, he'll have problems.
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Charisma level: How well can you manipulate people? Do you make friends easily? Are you persuasive? He has all of the charisma of a boulder.
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Sense of humor or no sense of humor?It’s sardonic, caustic, and can often be dark at times, but he does have one. Knowing when he’s joking and when he’s serious is the real challenge.
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Sanity level of character/do they struggle with any mental illness/disorders? According to Scathael himself, he’s very sane. A very stable individual. According to those with whom he interacts, his single-mindedness when it comes to creating things, and his obsession with finding new and better materials, traipses on the border of insanity.
Background
OccupationItinerant General Craftsman
Living Immediate Family Members:None
Dead Immediate Family Members:Maisil Arash (Father)
Vannea Arash (Mother)
Current Companions:None
Current and Past Lover(s):Rezirael Illimac
Current Equipment:Weapons:Horn/Maple composite bow
Shortened musket
Pistol
Two Hatchets
Tools:Whittling knife
Smithing hammer
Tongs
Forge Gloves
Needle and Thread
Whetstone block
Bowstrings
Pestle and Mortar
History:It would’ve seemed that Scathael was destined for an average life.
He wasn’t born to anyone of note – his parents were magically gifted, for sure, but they weren’t exceptionally powerful by any stretch of the imagination – and the village in which he grew up was one so small that most cartographers simply glossed over it on their maps. Really, it was more of a hamlet, and a small one at that. The nearest town was at least a day’s ride away, and there was nothing that attracted even the most curious of wayfarers. Life was quiet, solitary, and peaceful.
Throughout his childhood, Scathael’s parents did their best to pass on their knowledge to their son, but it was evident as he grew up that magic wasn’t where his talents lay. Rather, it was the forge, the anvil, the carpenter’s bench, the tanner’s rack, anything related to making things, with which he had an affinity. His parents, rather than forcing him to be something he wasn’t, instead encouraged him to nurture and build upon his innate talent. Though he still had to practise magic, it was more to maintain what skills he had rather than to develop them any further.
It didn’t take long for him to learn all he could in his little hamlet. If he wanted to go any further, he’d have to venture out to the bigger towns and cities. His parents were naturally reluctant to let their only son leave on his own, but Scathael eased their worries by showing that he could adequately take care of himself with the bow. Neither did he have any intention of leaving home for good; he’d journey in search of teachers and masters to learn from, but his path would always lead him back to the little cottage on the outskirts of the nameless hamlet. In due time, he even became something of a general tradesman for the rest of the villagers. To spend the rest of his life in such a way didn’t seem unappealing in the least to Scathael. It was more than what he could’ve wished for.
Fate, however, had other plans for him.
Scathael no longer talks about that day, but memories of it still linger vividly in his mind. He had only just returned from a hunt when he found his parents killed. Not murdered. He’d never use that word to describe what happened. Murder implies that someone had planned for his parents to die. Murder implied that there was a reason for their death. But that wasn’t the case. He simply found them both cold on the autumn grass, the arrows which took their lives still lodged in their bodies. A dozen bodies surrounding them told him that they at least didn’t go easily, but it was little consolation.
He never did find out the exact reason for his parents’ deaths. Their neighbours – all of whom lived a fair distance away – told him that it all stemmed from a heated argument between his father and a roving band of hunters. Or outlaws, or mercenaries, or any other type of group, depending on whom he asked. But regardless, one thing remained constant. It had just been a misunderstanding gone horribly, and violently, wrong. Nothing more.
It was that randomness that devastated Scathael the most. A targeted killing, he could perhaps rationalise it away. He could maybe even plan revenge to soothe his heart, but something like this? There was nothing for him to do but mourn and try to continue living. He resolved to stay in the hamlet his parents had so resolutely refused to leave in an attempt to honour their memory, but that proved to be far too difficult. Every sweet memory he had in the old cottage slowly became daggers pricking his heart, and soon he grew to despise the place.
And so he left. He had no choice.
Barely an adult, he struck out on a path to places unknown. First, he wandered about Daka Island, using his skills to earn some coin wherever he found himself. Then, when he ran out of places to explore, he took ship to lands further out. It wasn’t easy – he didn’t exactly grow up with much exposure to the world beyond his isolated cocoon – but he adapted quickly enough. As it turned out, cultures varied across peoples, but the need for a skilled hammer or deft chisel didn’t, especially in the smaller villages he often found himself. Being able to put his skills to good use, and being able to use them to pay his way to so many new and exciting places, and along the way discover new methods of crafting and materials, did plenty to soothe the pain that had been plaguing his heart.
Then one day, he met a certain Rezirael Illimac.
She’d been a wanderer like him, though her business lay more towards exploring old ruins and delving into caves in search of treasure rather than wanderlust. Their relationship had been strictly professional at the beginning. She needed her tools and weapons maintained in places that could be days away from any settlement, and he needed the coin she earned to fund his need for progressively rarer and more expensive materials. It was a mutually-beneficial relationship that suited the both of them just fine. It didn’t hurt that their personalities complemented each other, too; her fiery passion melted his restrictive caution, and his calm logic tempered her reckless eagerness.
What was supposed to be a temporary partnership turned into something semi-permanent, and then it became strange for either to be away from the other for long. As the time they spent together grew, so too did their relationship deepend. They became fast friends, then close confidants. Neither kept any secret from the other, and their nights were often spent in quiet places swapping stories about their pasts. It was thus only natural that romance would bloom between the two. Scathael still remembers the exact moment it happened. They’d been simply talking as usual after a long day. He’d been going on and on about something – likely related to crafting or materials – when Rezirael kissed him. It’d been a surprise, but one he quickly and eagerly reciprocated. And once they confirmed their love for each other, their bond only grew all the stronger as the days passed.
They still adventured, and explored, and delved together, but between their travels, talk of settling down began to bubble. It started as just a flight of fancy to be laughed over a campfire. Just a nice thought and nothing more. Then, as they added more and more details to that fantasy, it stopped being a mere dream and became more of a goal to be achieved. Between the two of them, they had more than enough coin to sustain them if they stopped their adventures, and in the right place, Scathael’s skills would likely be more than enough to support the both of them and perhaps even a family. Soon enough, it became something that he hungered for; a life he couldn’t wait to start.
And that was when his old friend, fate, paid him another visit.
Scathael hadn’t been there. Rezirael had decided to scout a cave on her own while he remained at camp to repair damaged tools. As night fell, and she didn’t return, Scathael’s worry finally managed to push him to search for her. He found her in the cave she’d been exploring, half-buried and crushed beneath a mound of rocks and dirt. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t dig her out of it, but his efforts would’ve been all for naught even if he’d succeeded. Scathael buried her where she laid, left only with a diary she’d left with him listing the sights and places she wanted to see before they could settle down.
That diary now sits with the rest of his meagre belongings in his travelling knapsack. Every place and every sight, he went and he saw, and he made sure to write down every last detail. But he didn’t stop there. He couldn’t stop there. Fate had made its message clear, and the price Scathael paid for his ignorance had been steep. Too steep. If the death of his parents had cracked his spirit, then Rezirael’s passing shattered it entirely, and he patched it back together with flax thread and leather hide; with hewn oak and forged steel. Settling down was not meant for him. To wander, to discover, and to create better and better things was his lot in life, and he’d been a fool to fight it. All he could do was move. And move. And move some more.
And maybe one day, he’d move far enough to escape this unwanted fate.
Combat and Magic Stat Creation
Fitness Level:⋆ Scathael is very active. He has to be. As a survivalist-of-sorts, he hunts his own food when living in the wild (and sometimes when living in a settlement, even), chops his own wood for fire and shelter, and digs his own little holes when the terrain allows.
What are your character’s physical strengths?⋆ Good endurance; Scathael endeavours to spend his nights in settlements as much as possible, and that means trekking long distances with whatever he owns on his person.
⋆ Stealth; Scathael dislikes direct confrontations, and so has learned how to either skulk away from confrontations, or end them from the safety of the shadows as much as possible.
⋆ Accuracy; related to the above, Scathael has good aim with both bow and musket. Not only does that help to end a fight quickly, it also saves him labour. Bullets and arrows are tedious things to make.
What are your character’s physical weaknesses?⋆ Poor offensive magic; Scathael has always been a middling sorcerer, and his years of refusing to use his abilities haven’t done him any favours. He only ever uses magic to shroud himself in darkness to make a quick exit.
⋆ Close combat; while he could maybe handle himself against the average street tough or outlaw, don’t expect much from him against tougher foes. Or against multiple foes, for that matter.
⋆ Over-caution; Scathael will always err on the side of caution in a fight, sometimes to what can be perceived as a craven degree. He sees himself as a craftsman first, and adventurer second.
Years of Experience: Weapon(s): ⋆ Bow: 257 years. His parents taught him how to use from young, and intensified said training once it became clear that he was neither interested nor did he possess the aptitude to be anything beyond a middling sorcerer.
⋆ Firearms: 150 years. He picked up his first firearm a little while after leaving home for good, and immediately found it useful to have as part of his arsenal. Whatever skills he has with them were learned whilst travelling and typically on the fly.
Hand-to-Hand Combat:He has no formal training in hand-to-hand combat. He knows enough to handle himself in a brawl, but that's about it.
Dark Elves⋆ Offensive Erebokinesis:
Completely out-of-practice. His parents did teach him how to use his magics, but he hasn't touched anything offensive ever since their deaths.
⋆ Shrouding:
160 years. This is his most-used ability, even if he only started seriously honing it after he started wandering the land. Aside from the basics taught by his parents back when he was a youth, most of what he knows comes from trial-and-error.
⋆ Shielding:
110 years. He uses this ability to protect himself from cave-ins and rock-slides whilst exploring.
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