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Name: Taliesin 'Bottle' Arrok
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 34
Appearance: Bottle is someone people dismiss. Usually hunched over, fiddling with the latest object he managed to pluck from somewhere the man wouldn't be out of place in the back corner of a seedy tavern. With his ragged shirt and trousers under padded armor showing the rough life of a hired blade. The man's nose has been broken several times and his eyes are usually on the spectrum between apprehensive, sad, and wondering what horrible fate life has in store for him. High hollow cheekbones and pale eyes, most would say that Bottle's days of glory are long behind him. They'd be right too, seeing people die and succumb to other ill fates engraved its mark on Bottle. With dirty, greasy black hair and tanned, scarred skin he looks the part of a ragged vagabond.
Bio: Born in the backcountry of the Razorthorn Mountains, Bottle's village was on the northern coast trapped between the Frozen Wastes and the Infinite Forest's island and perched in the roots of the mountains. The boy was born to an older woman who was thought to be well past her childbearing age and there were plenty of whispers about her or the potential partner the woman had drawn to create a child with. Not to mention rumors about Bottle himself which only grew as the boy got older and began to speaking to things that the villagers couldn't see. Not the villagers outright said anything, Bottle's mother Miranda was a witch herself and her skills were not something the village could do without. Bandits kept themselves away, as did pirates and all manners of other trouble. As the saying goes, 'where a fat village is without any protection one can see there's a mage of trouble waiting in the eaves'.
Learning as a boy from his mother he tended the farm that yielded only enough from the rocky soil. Taught in the isolated foothills, Bottle talked to the spirits that were said to inhabit the land and encouraged them to help their small farm. He took the minds of animals and often could find a lost goat or warn of when wolves would be likely that winter. All things Bottle would say was paltry to what his mother was capable of as she held her rituals and worked her own magic. When he was approaching twenty, his mother was an old woman and passed away. Unwilling to let go of her Bottle kept in mind her voice as it urged him to travel south and not remain in the village. This was probably a good thing as without a mage to protect them, the villagers would be looking for a new defender and Bottle would have been their first choice. Not something the young man wanted.
So he traveled South selling trinkets to help fund his journey and found himself signing up to serve in the Grand Empire of Man's forces. Serving in the 7th Squad, he found himself liked well enough considering he was abysmal at first with the sword and hardly any warrior to sing of. As they fought in skirmishes against raiding parties of goblins, orcs and bandits, Bottle earned his nickname for the different bottles he often had on him for his alchemical fiddling or containing some lizard or rat his had plucked up and would later release to see through its eyes while it scouted before it disappeared to the wilds. With his knowledge (soul stone) of nature the squad quickly became of the better scouts in their section and Bottle was readily accepted as something of a younger sibling rather than a full brother in arms by the other men and women.
Though while the life of a soldier can be glorious, there is a slightly long period of tedium where nothing happens and it was on this tedium while playing with the magics and simply enjoying himself, Bottle slightly disrupted the experiments of another mage of the town they were stationed at. Belengard T'vess had been less than impressed at Bottle just bouncing magic around like the novice he was and the human he was. The elf was far more irritated because of the potential he could see in this country bumpkin, and insulted by it. Bottle himself saw it polite to apologize and offer to help fix things, which only irritated T'vess more. A human offering to help him fix a spell of elven make? Bottle was quite confused as to why the elf had been so offended and irritated and could easily hear his mother tsking her tongue in disapproval of the high and mighty elf. Unfortunately, he was also tsking his tongue and Belengard was even more outraged by the action. Soon, Bottle found himself being hauled away by his captain and dressed down for offending the locals. In truth, the captain had been paying T'vess for his assistance in some personal matters and going deep in debt for it. When Bottle pointed this out, oblivious that he was not supposed to know it and only knowing because he had been fiddling about with riding the mind of a pigeon, the captain quickly took steps to bring Bottle up on trumped-up charges and kicked the young man of twenty-nine years out of the squad along with a few other 'problem soldiers' who had been toeing the captain's line.
Ever since then, Bottle had made his way as a sellsword and more often than not having to dodge out of town every so often for overhearing or seeing something he shouldn't have while playing about his magic and uncovering some of the better-kept secrets. Since then he's become a bit edgy and rather nervous around people. Often seeming distracted by watching some distant thing or contemplating some vermin be it walking or flying.
Personality quirks: "Really, my mother was the wise one. She cut through to the heart of every matter and knew everything.", "It's just old charms and spells that I enjoy, the flash and bang of battle... It is unnerving to be able to cause such misery because you failed at a spell."
Personal Goal: Bottle's goal is to stay alive and keep enough coin to fill his belly and his mug with ale while he enjoys playing with the magic he possesses.
Bonds: The 7th Squad, a former military squad that Bottle used to work with before he was kicked out for 'inability to follow orders' by an uppity captain along with a few others. Bottle was on good terms with the rest of his squad and shortly after Bottle was disgraced the captain found himself being solidly stonewalled by irritated subordinates.
Belengard T'vess- A rivalry more on Belengard's side as he found Bottle's aptitude for magic something of a threat to his own skills and practes when the two crossed while Bottle was first starting out as a sword for hire.
Equipment: Several different alchemical potions, his grimoire, rations for several days lost somewhere at the bottom of his pack, a sword and a shield (Soft wood with iron spikes.). A solid pair of boots, blackened chains beneath standard leather hauberks. His mother's ritual knife with arcane runes on the side.
Skills/Abilities:
Nature- Able to see through the eyes of animals and coax them to doing his bidding, Bottle is fond of this and enjoys speaking to the trees and 'spirits' of nature about him. Though perhaps by his own willful blindness to the facts, he sees himself as a decent farmer with some ability to talk to the spirits that tend to the plants and encourage them to influence their perches, whereas in truth he is encouraging the plants themselves. He has innate sense, knack as he calls it, to not get lost.
Basic sword/shield skills- Bottle is decent with a sword but there's not the making of a master swordsman within him. He fights better in a group flanking someone than on his own.
Scouting - A much more agile and intune scout, Bottle is very good at scouting out areas and sneaking up on an opponent.
Alchemical knowledge - He knows enough to put some basic first aid together and fiddles with different mixtures to pass the time when fiddling with magic would annoy his higher-ups.
Other Information: any special information about your character including Adventurer rank (must be approved by GM, so shoot me a pm and let’s talk)
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 34
Appearance: Bottle is someone people dismiss. Usually hunched over, fiddling with the latest object he managed to pluck from somewhere the man wouldn't be out of place in the back corner of a seedy tavern. With his ragged shirt and trousers under padded armor showing the rough life of a hired blade. The man's nose has been broken several times and his eyes are usually on the spectrum between apprehensive, sad, and wondering what horrible fate life has in store for him. High hollow cheekbones and pale eyes, most would say that Bottle's days of glory are long behind him. They'd be right too, seeing people die and succumb to other ill fates engraved its mark on Bottle. With dirty, greasy black hair and tanned, scarred skin he looks the part of a ragged vagabond.
Bio: Born in the backcountry of the Razorthorn Mountains, Bottle's village was on the northern coast trapped between the Frozen Wastes and the Infinite Forest's island and perched in the roots of the mountains. The boy was born to an older woman who was thought to be well past her childbearing age and there were plenty of whispers about her or the potential partner the woman had drawn to create a child with. Not to mention rumors about Bottle himself which only grew as the boy got older and began to speaking to things that the villagers couldn't see. Not the villagers outright said anything, Bottle's mother Miranda was a witch herself and her skills were not something the village could do without. Bandits kept themselves away, as did pirates and all manners of other trouble. As the saying goes, 'where a fat village is without any protection one can see there's a mage of trouble waiting in the eaves'.
Learning as a boy from his mother he tended the farm that yielded only enough from the rocky soil. Taught in the isolated foothills, Bottle talked to the spirits that were said to inhabit the land and encouraged them to help their small farm. He took the minds of animals and often could find a lost goat or warn of when wolves would be likely that winter. All things Bottle would say was paltry to what his mother was capable of as she held her rituals and worked her own magic. When he was approaching twenty, his mother was an old woman and passed away. Unwilling to let go of her Bottle kept in mind her voice as it urged him to travel south and not remain in the village. This was probably a good thing as without a mage to protect them, the villagers would be looking for a new defender and Bottle would have been their first choice. Not something the young man wanted.
So he traveled South selling trinkets to help fund his journey and found himself signing up to serve in the Grand Empire of Man's forces. Serving in the 7th Squad, he found himself liked well enough considering he was abysmal at first with the sword and hardly any warrior to sing of. As they fought in skirmishes against raiding parties of goblins, orcs and bandits, Bottle earned his nickname for the different bottles he often had on him for his alchemical fiddling or containing some lizard or rat his had plucked up and would later release to see through its eyes while it scouted before it disappeared to the wilds. With his knowledge (soul stone) of nature the squad quickly became of the better scouts in their section and Bottle was readily accepted as something of a younger sibling rather than a full brother in arms by the other men and women.
Though while the life of a soldier can be glorious, there is a slightly long period of tedium where nothing happens and it was on this tedium while playing with the magics and simply enjoying himself, Bottle slightly disrupted the experiments of another mage of the town they were stationed at. Belengard T'vess had been less than impressed at Bottle just bouncing magic around like the novice he was and the human he was. The elf was far more irritated because of the potential he could see in this country bumpkin, and insulted by it. Bottle himself saw it polite to apologize and offer to help fix things, which only irritated T'vess more. A human offering to help him fix a spell of elven make? Bottle was quite confused as to why the elf had been so offended and irritated and could easily hear his mother tsking her tongue in disapproval of the high and mighty elf. Unfortunately, he was also tsking his tongue and Belengard was even more outraged by the action. Soon, Bottle found himself being hauled away by his captain and dressed down for offending the locals. In truth, the captain had been paying T'vess for his assistance in some personal matters and going deep in debt for it. When Bottle pointed this out, oblivious that he was not supposed to know it and only knowing because he had been fiddling about with riding the mind of a pigeon, the captain quickly took steps to bring Bottle up on trumped-up charges and kicked the young man of twenty-nine years out of the squad along with a few other 'problem soldiers' who had been toeing the captain's line.
Ever since then, Bottle had made his way as a sellsword and more often than not having to dodge out of town every so often for overhearing or seeing something he shouldn't have while playing about his magic and uncovering some of the better-kept secrets. Since then he's become a bit edgy and rather nervous around people. Often seeming distracted by watching some distant thing or contemplating some vermin be it walking or flying.
Personality quirks: "Really, my mother was the wise one. She cut through to the heart of every matter and knew everything.", "It's just old charms and spells that I enjoy, the flash and bang of battle... It is unnerving to be able to cause such misery because you failed at a spell."
Personal Goal: Bottle's goal is to stay alive and keep enough coin to fill his belly and his mug with ale while he enjoys playing with the magic he possesses.
Bonds: The 7th Squad, a former military squad that Bottle used to work with before he was kicked out for 'inability to follow orders' by an uppity captain along with a few others. Bottle was on good terms with the rest of his squad and shortly after Bottle was disgraced the captain found himself being solidly stonewalled by irritated subordinates.
Belengard T'vess- A rivalry more on Belengard's side as he found Bottle's aptitude for magic something of a threat to his own skills and practes when the two crossed while Bottle was first starting out as a sword for hire.
Equipment: Several different alchemical potions, his grimoire, rations for several days lost somewhere at the bottom of his pack, a sword and a shield (Soft wood with iron spikes.). A solid pair of boots, blackened chains beneath standard leather hauberks. His mother's ritual knife with arcane runes on the side.
Skills/Abilities:
Nature- Able to see through the eyes of animals and coax them to doing his bidding, Bottle is fond of this and enjoys speaking to the trees and 'spirits' of nature about him. Though perhaps by his own willful blindness to the facts, he sees himself as a decent farmer with some ability to talk to the spirits that tend to the plants and encourage them to influence their perches, whereas in truth he is encouraging the plants themselves. He has innate sense, knack as he calls it, to not get lost.
Basic sword/shield skills- Bottle is decent with a sword but there's not the making of a master swordsman within him. He fights better in a group flanking someone than on his own.
Scouting - A much more agile and intune scout, Bottle is very good at scouting out areas and sneaking up on an opponent.
Alchemical knowledge - He knows enough to put some basic first aid together and fiddles with different mixtures to pass the time when fiddling with magic would annoy his higher-ups.
Other Information: any special information about your character including Adventurer rank (must be approved by GM, so shoot me a pm and let’s talk)