Snagglepuss89

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Hell, great musician too. The only reason I would risk the insanity of traveling to Australia is to see him in his natural environment. Definitely a top 5 for me.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

I admit, I had no intention of joining an RP remotely like this when I went browsing, but this is a great job on the OOC. I'm sold. I'll be thinking of something to PM you with soon.

The Last March of the Living - Interest Check

Is this going to be first come first serve? I just usually don't like to commit until the OOC and GM's character are up. I'm fine competing for a spot.

The Last March of the Living - Interest Check

Tentatively interested as well.

Moonscratch Chronicle; Cycle One

Emerson Pèlerin

Name: Emerson (Em') L. Pèlerin

Age: 17

Race: Human

Gender: Both? Neither? Responds to both He and She and prefers not to think about it.

Affiliation: Aurelius The Sage (Apprentice, former), Unaffiliated.

Appearance:
Emerson's appearance depends entirely on how he prefers presenting herself from one day to the next. With plenty of outfits to give off both a masculine and feminine appearance, it's a toss up depending on her mood and how long he's portrayed himself as one gender or the other. He likes to change it up from time to time purely to keep the heat off her back. On top of this, her hair colour also changes daily, almost a source of pride for Emerson. He started training her magical endurance a decade ago by changing one strand at a time until he passed out from the effort. It's still a tiring task, but part of her daily regiment.

Other than Emerson's extreme androgyny, there are a few other features that are distinguishable. While attractive there are signs of malnourishment present, she's not quite dangerously thin, yet, but it's clear that eating has either been impossible or of a lesser priority for some time. On top of this he's quite short, perhaps a result of stunted growth throughout her youth. Whatever the reason, Emerson barely breaks five foot on a good day, tiptoes or not. If pointed out, she would usually deflect by saying all of his growth went into his brain.

A scar heavily resembling that of the Moonscratched is present on Emerson's chest, well hidden beneath her clothing. Magical runes can also usually be seen running up and down the length of both arms, notes taken when inspiration strikes and the parchment in his backpack is too far away to bother retrieving. Usually these are covered up with long sleeves to avoid unneeded suspicion, but some days she can get carried away. Thankfully Vaald has an infinite number of hiding places on days he gets careless.

Personality: Emerson is in actuality quite social in spite of both his past life on the streets, and his shut in years of research and magical practice. Perhaps it was because of this shut in lifestyle that she developed a habit of seeking out company, even if she prefers to read or otherwise occupy himself while carrying on a conversation. A lack of... experience in this department and a bizarre sense of humor means that she does personify social awkwardness.

On top of this, while she loves talking about her research into the magical arts, she's bizarrely tight lipped about his actual years as an apprentice, describing what he does decide to share in a cold, matter-of-fact manner that one might find more fitting to her analytical mind. He is only slightly less distant about her years living on the streets of Vaald, clearly much more interested in staying in the present. Still, beneath this detached exterior cracks of emotion can be seen if asked on a particularly bad day. Hinting that these experiences are not so distant in Emerson's mind.

Clearly though she has a deep love for what she does. Even though it takes great effort to cast even the smallest amount of magic, he does so with great joy. When fatigue inevitably overtakes him from the strain of his actions, Emerson passes out with a smile on her face, clearly enjoying a satisfying slumber. How long it takes him to recover varies, but usually ten or twenty minutes will suffice, leaving him exhausted for the rest of the day afterward.

Class: Prodigy (Mage). Gifted with almost no magical potential, it's this character's ability to absorb and retain a massive amount of knowledge of the craft that gives them such a potent ability as a spellcaster. Possesses a wide and powerful variety of magic, but lack of natural talent severely limits the endurance of the user.

(Former) Urchin: Life as a street rat teaches most people at least a few thieving abilities. These are not often evolved beyond their most basic level, but still notable. Picking pockets, street smarts, and stepping lightly are all benefits of this class.

Equipment: A backpack stuffed with various research materials, and spare paper and ink to take notes on. Much heavier than one would expect at first glance. In actuality holds twenty times it's apparent volume (Although space is not unlimited, and weight is only divided by a fourth).

A quarterstaff, the length of which is a full foot longer than Emerson is tall, usually stored inside his backpack in order to avoid unneeded suspicion.

A glass phial whose function is to hold one spell in reserve. After shattering the spell is released as if just cast, and the phial returns to Emerson's backpack after 24 hours, waiting to be filled with a new spell.

Both men and women's clothing, multiple outfits of each, stored in her backpack.

Abilities:

Photographic Memory (Personal): Emerson forgets nothing that he is taught, or reads. Events may pass by her notice, but that's usually because he is more absorbed in research than what's going on around her. Can also come in handy to recognize off duty guardsmen to avoid.

Magical Prodigy (Class): Magic fascinates Emerson more than anything else in the world, and she's dedicated every spare moment of her young life to it's study, and practice. Moreso than just recreating existing spells and effects, he strives to invent new and creative ways to implement the powerful resource.

Bereft of Talent (Personal): An almost complete lack of natural affinity for magic means that it's use taxes Emerson to the extreme. Often only one or two spells of even moderate potency will knock him out, or otherwise drain her completely of energy.

Poor Eater (Personal): Whether due to circumstances or choice, food has never been something Emerson has had in abundance. While this has affected her strength less than one might expect (Just try lifting her backpack) he tires easily when straining himself with non magical tasks as well. This, however, is much less extreme than his magical lack of endurance.

Urchin's Skills (Class): While they've rusted since she was a child, Emerson's life growing up on the streets of Vaald has instilled a certain number of thieving talents. These have helped him elude capture in the last few months, and could conceivably be improved to full blown thieving skills of she so chose to spend her energy perfecting them. He has no such desire though.

Dual Casting (Class, Personal): Emerson's trademark is mixing two (or more) types of magic to make a more potent affect. Often this results in overkill, but she considers it to be experimentation as much as practical use. Whether this means creating earthen shackles that electrocute their target, or a fireball that also freezes the insides of it's victim, the results are sure to be interesting if nothing else.

Biography: Emerson grew up like many of the urchins lining the streets of Vaald: Poorly. Although her lack of nutrition wasn't due to any absence in talent as a thief. Indeed, had he chosen her belly would have never been left wanting in those years. However, he put those talents to far better use (at least in her mind): The theft of books. Literacy wasn't something common amongst his kind, so he traded favors in exchange for education. Food and baubles were exchanged for knowledge, which awakened a voracity in her that still has yet to be quenched. One day a drunk and lost man stumbled upon her hidden library in the alleys of Vaald, and recognized her potential as a student. That man was Aurelius The Sage, one of the greatest researchers of the arcane arts on the continent.

For almost ten years to the day Emerson served under the man, attacking Aurelius' library of research like a starved animal. However, there was one slight speed bump in Emerson's road to magehood: he was almost entirely lacking in talent for the magical arts. Every spell cast felt like swimming against a raging river, and rarely could he perform more than one such feat per day. However, the results were always both precise and powerful. Emerson seemed to grasp the science behind the magical arts like few others. How exactly to coax the power latent in the world around her and change it to suit his needs. Within the (admittedly small) world of magical research, Emerson was hailed as a prodigy, more than capable of even surpassing her teacher.

However, three months ago Aurelius was found mutilated in his bedroom. His skin was burnt almost beyond recognition and his organs were found to be completely frozen solid underneath. Dual magic was known to be a specialty of Emerson, and especially considering the fact that the prodigy was nowhere to be found in the aftermath of the murder led investigators to deduce an obvious culprit. Those who have said to have met the prodigy in the months since the incident claim that Emerson has professed innocence, but has thusfar evaded authorities. He often uses his relative anonymity (At least amongst the general public), and ability to easily pass as one gender or the other from day to day to avoid suspicion. That, and a quick escape is only a spell away. A painful, taxing spell away.

Moonscratch Chronicle; Cycle One

One of Irenaeus' feline ears twitched in contemplation as the Firebrand spoke to him. It was not the first time he had heard his native language since leaving home- indeed the pride inherent to the Iath often meant any he met in his travels would default to their native tongue when possible. What better language was there, after all? To those of his homeland, that answer was clearly none. Still, as a greeting it struck him as odd. Was he so absorbed by the cultures of Delad that he somehow looked... foreign to his own people? Regardless, he obliged the woman with the only answer that was required.

"Bel'kostna."

It was a single word, but much could be gleaned about Irenaeus from it's utterance. The accent he unconsciously slipped into spoke of the coast, with a harsh and quick rasp rarely found closer to the heartland of Kyir. Furthermore, the clear and formal manner in which he replied spoke of a refinement that would not be found in those without wealth or power amongst their people. More informative than either of those things though was the word itself. Bel'kostna roughly would translate to "Unborn" or those Iath who had not stepped foot upon Kyir. More accurately, those who had not stepped foot on Kyir yet, for there was little doubt to any native Iath that there were those of their kind who would choose to shun their homeland. It spoke of the pride, or rather arrogance, so often associated with his people.

He focused his attention then on the young Uquii, trying to retain all the information she was throwing at him. Primarily he focused on three points: His glasses, Silverbrook, and his identity. Two at least of which he was happy to oblige her with conversation about. Tracking down the merchant for another pair would be a pain in the ass, but maybe that job The Five Roads had done to get the glasses would end up paying dividends today, if the Uquii had the money to do business that is.

"Well, let's see..."

He began, removing the glasses and holding them up in the air, towards where the sun was presently located. Irenaeus stroked his chin as if deep in thought for a moment before placing them in front of his eyes once more and turning to the girl.

"These glasses were made by Alfonso Padovano himself back when the Padovano family were artisans of glassmaking and not the cheap mass production oriented sellouts his great great grandchildren have become. Not factoring in an added charge for being an antique, these were purchased over one hundred years ago, in bulk, back when few had even heard of the things, let alone specialized in making them. Then factoring the fee to transport these through customs across the border, and paying the well compensated guards for the shipment... Adjusted for more than a hundred years of inflation..."

He stopped once more, this time actually lost in his own thoughts rather than putting on a show for theatrics. This wasn't a number he had ever tried to calculate before, although having a successful merchant of a mother meant his education in financial matters was anything but lacking.

"About eighty gold disks would be appropriate. Although I could knock off a good ten percent if you happen to have some Bear's Rest honey with you. I never traveled to Silverbrooks, personally, but as I recall the two are only a few dozen miles apart. I've never had a better tea in my life than what they served me there with a bit of that honey mixed in, with the smell of Moondrop flowers enriching the evening air.

He sighed then, the memory decades gone filling him with contentment. That and it gave him time to stall and think of an alias. Truthfully the thought of ignoring the question of his identity altogether and hoping it got lost in the shuffle of conversation occurred to him, but that could come to bite him later if he was asked when ill prepared. Shouting caught his ear in the distance, but he tried to ignore it for the moment. There were always shouts somewhere in the city.

"As for who exactly I am-"

"THE UNDEAD!!!"

Ignoring the shouting no longer, he whipped his head towards the speaker and his voice turned to a growl. Irenaeus' knuckles turned white on the hilt of Arielle, and he felt the hairs on his tail begin to puff outward. He hated the undead. One mission with the Five Roads was enough to instill that hatred in him for a lifetime, and not only because they were sick affronts to life and nature. Put quite simply: They were unpleasant in every way to deal with. Bone and metal weren't exactly the best materials to attack with a sword, and on top of that the aura of necromancy was enough to ruin the memory of a day forever.

"- a soon to be a dead fool."

He finally answered, removing his hand from the hilt of Arielle and placing it under the crossguard of his well worn longsword. He readied himself to draw it by the blade, and use the hilt as a makeshift hammer if he couldn't find a club or some sort of blunt weapon before the fighting began. There was no doubt in the Iath's mind that Arielle would be sufficient to hack through most of the undead, but it would be an insult to the sword to force it into such a filthy task. No, that would be a last resort. With his mind set, he took a step towards the knight who was engaging Annevar in order to offer his services when all at once his afternoon was ruined.

Firstly, Irenaeus' sensitive ears were left ringing and he was nearly knocked over by the eruption of the fountain next to him. Secondly his right hand, the only free one as his left had finished drawing his sword by reflex, was completely numbed by the large stone he had plucked out of the air before it could hit one of their group. Thirdly, in spite of his traveler's cloak he was soaked to the bone by the explosion of water that resulted from the fountain's demise. Irenaeus despised being soaked. Fourthly, and worst of all, he felt that necromantic aura wash over him like a tidal wave of filth mixed with bad memories. Blood mixed freely with the water coating his face and his stomach began a fierce battle with his willpower to empty itself over the ground.

He would be damned if he wasted the Fantasia di Maiale he'd actually managed to drink that day though, and fought back the urge to vomit. Instead he tried to get his bearing on exactly what the hell was happening. An explosion, screaming, the beating of wings, a squish, a whisper, and now footsteps with a gait that spoke of something that wasn't a corpse. Then a voice spoke which sparked more pleasant memories in his mind, a small compensation for what he had just experienced. Arielle had always spoken in a similar manner, he'd wager a hundred gold disks that they were from the same area.

"I uh… Dealt with the undead."

Fifthly, he was forced to experience all of the above and didn't even have a chance to work out the itch in his sword hand and earn some compensation. With a sigh, he sheathed his sword and let the rock drop from his hand, flexing his fingers to try to work some feeling back into them. It was the sort of bad day that only occurred once in a century, maybe two. One that he would try, and fail, to forget for many decades to come. Worryingly, there was still plenty of time left for even more to go wrong.

Once tingles of pain began to answer his flexing, he ran a hand through his hair and scratched behind his ears, wondering what he should say in the face of the insanity he just experienced. There were plenty of questions which the ability to see would have easily answered for him, but people had a habit of talking and he was sure he would find out before long. Instead, turned to the woman who approached them and offered a small smile.

"Thank you for saving me the trouble of having to fight with the abominations."

He began in simple sincerity, without a trace of bravado in his voice, before tugging on his cloak and adding:

"I suppose I'll forgive you for the soaking wet entrance in exchange."

It was the sort of casual and self confident talk that a life of surviving danger instilled in a person. Still, in spite of the humor he was far from relaxed. His sword hand once more rested on Arielle as the ringing is his ears began to subside. His attention was almost entirely focused on the new hole in the ground, searching with his ears for any sound of movement. The woman claimed the undead were taken care of, but it would be a careless mistake to drop his guard because of that. Almost as an afterthought he turned his head to the rest of the group and added in:

"Are any of you hurt?"

•HAGAKURE•

Aye.

Moonscratch Chronicle; Cycle One

Fifty silvers seemed like a pitiful haul for any job of the caliber he had just completed. Indeed, if one were to look at only his coin purse they would assume that Irenaeus had been scammed, swindled, and otherwise led astray. The cargo he had been charged with protecting was a shipment of Fantasia di Maiale, one of the most expensive imported wines on the continent. Those fifty coins he earned even included the bonus he had received for fighting off the goons of a rival company who had caught word of the shipment.

Those with very keen powers of observation might, however, notice the glass he carried in his left hand as he made his way down the streets of Vaald. Those who possess both those keen powers of observation, and were connoisseur of wine across the continent would note that the red liquid contained within was none other than Fantasia di Maiale. Furthermore, those with the entire story of his previous job would be able to conclude that such liquid was the last glass of an entire bottle of the famed wine, valued at no less than one hundred gold disks. As such, though the Iath was poor compared to many of those around him, he and his tongue felt rich as kings.

He sipped the wine slowly as he walked, savoring every drop even though he knew that time was against him. The heat of the day would ruin the precious liquid before long, and if he dallied about the task of finishing it then he may as well spill on the ground. As such he quickened both the pace of his walking as his drinking as he let his nose guide him down those familiar streets to his favorite spot of relaxation: The Serene Pools. The smell of the plants was unmistakable, even several streets away as he was. The closeness to nature, the surrounding water, and the idle chatter of those who passed through all combined to fill him with the feeling of serenity that his years as a wanderer granted him. Today he planned to relax, and reflect amongst the pools on the fortunate times in his life. That is, at least, until the day's 'festivities' began.

Irenaeus lifted his head to meet the warmth of the sun's rays as the shadows of the city streets fell behind him. He made no effort to sort through the myriad of conversations taking place around him, instead choosing just to enjoy his arrival, and the sensations that accompanied it. Deciding to make his way over to his favorite spot, he began to raise the glass to his lips once more when his foot caught a crack in the ground below him. He tripped, without grace or ceremony, and the earth greeted him with both pain and the sound of shattering glass.

He laid there, motionless for several moments, his dead eyes blinking as if they too could not believe the sight in front of him. Fantasia di Maiale, spread upon the ground instead of in his stomach. In the short time he had known the liquid it had become one of his most prized possessions, a sign that his life was beginning to look up once more. Comfort, in the world of darkness he inhabited. He always knew he would outlive the drink, but even being robbed of those precious few minutes they had left together felt... heartbreaking. With a resigned sigh, he slowly picked himself off the ground and set about the task of forgetting his misfortune. Primarily, he accomplish this by involving himself in the problems of others, and began trying to sort out the conversations taking places around him.

"... the Scratch, in his delirium, is planning something malicious."

His sword hand twitched in anticipation, but he ignored it. No way was he going to involve himself in that variety of trouble. He was a hundred years past being a fool, no reason to break that record now. Still, after the speaker's footsteps stopped in front of the temple of Gnara he couldn't help but hear the conversation that she, too, was listening in on. Again, he tried to ignore it. Waraz was a name that promised to bring much more trouble than good. He would rather avoid the possibility in getting caught up in that situation entirely.

He then caught a much more interesting conversation taking place. An... Iath? Ranting at the statues of Belme and Gnara. It didn't last for long though before she apparently joined another group who was discussing... absolutely nothing of importance. Gravity had already decided to ruin his plans for relaxation that day, and he was in no mood to involve himself with trouble involving Waraz. As such, his choice of what to do was a relatively easy one: Go bother the people least likely to lead him to trouble.

He contemplated approaching with his hood up, but could not think of an adequate excuse for it with the day's weather. That, and he had no plans to explain to another Iath why he wouldn't proudly display the traits of his race. Instead, he merely adjusted the smoked glasses in front of his eyes before moving towards the group. His left hand, now free, rested upon the pommel of the sword Arielle, clearly where it felt most comfortable. As he passed in front of the temple of Gnara he gave a small wave to the hidden speaker from earlier, unsure if she was even looking in his direction. He did know, however, that she had not yet moved from the spot.

"I've never had much luck getting answers from statues either, personally. Just a stony gaze and concerned looks from passerbys."

Irenaeus scratched the back of his head, almost in apology for intruding on the conversation, offering a grin to the group.

"These ears of mine tend to pick up more than they should and I'm afraid my curiosity's gotten the better of me this time. It doesn't sound like too many of you are from Delad..."

He turned then, to look at the temple of Gnara. He had heard it was a sight to behold, naturally being part of the capital city, but he himself could only go by rumor on that assumption.

"Is this some sort of pilgrimage to the temple? Or perhaps you've traveled to see the... affair that will take place later?"

Moonscratch Chronicle; Cycle One

Irenaeus of The Five Roads

Name: Irenaeus (No known surname, sometimes "of The Five Roads" is included)

Age: 135 years

Race: Iath

Gender: Male

Affiliation:Five Roads Adventuring Company (Founding Member, Disbanded), County of Twin Streams (Retainer, Former), Grand University of Vaald (Lecturer, Former), Five Roads Inn (Proprietor, Former)

Appearance:
Irenaeus' most immediately noticeable features are of course that of his race: His golden eyes, feline ears, and tail. These, however, are not usually readily apparently. His dead, blind eyes are usually hidden behind a pair of smoked glasses, and his traveling garb tends to keep his tail hidden and ears out of sight (When the hood is raised, at least). He insists this is more by coincidence than design, but he's had more than one "discussion" with baffled members of his proud race over it. Truthfully, he considers his fame a nuisance and if he can hide both his race and his disability then he wouldn't complain.

Aside from this, a lifetime of traveling and fighting has given him an impressive physique even amongst his own kind. A hundred years of walking and swordsmanship have given him a relatively thin frame, but every inch of it is well used muscle. He stands at least head and shoulder taller than most Humans, already one of the taller races on the continent. As such, even once someone knows he is blind they tend to leave him alone, say nothing of the swords kept at his side.

Personality: Gregarious would be Irenaeus summed up in a word. Part of his love for traveling is his love of meeting new people, and a melting pot of races like Delad means that there is always someone interesting to meet in the next village. Still, his love of people doesn't always translate to how he treats them. Aloofness, sarcasm, and bitter criticism are equally mixed with generosity, laughter, and praise. He'll buy you a drink, compliment your singing and tell you that he's never met a more horrible dancer all in one breath. He can be, as such, hard to get a read on at times. Still, he likes to talk, and behind that criticism is a desire to give advice. He sees his long life as a chance to spread wisdom, especially so that others don't have to go through what he has to obtain it.

Moreover he tries to steer the conversation away from himself whenever possible. He won't deny who he is to someone that has guessed his identity, but also doesn't hesitate to give a false name or lie about his past to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. Even a hundred years later people who know about him seem to be fascinated only with the two most painful decades of his life, and he has grown tired of it.

Class: Iath Wanderer: Certainly a diverse class, as the name would indicate. What these few individuals possess is not a particular set of skills or talent, but a wealth of experience that their longer lifespan grants them, combined with their largely Human-like lust for life. Naturally when age is one of the main factors going for you, it means that this class grows more powerful, or more diverse, as the characters grows older. It also tends to mean a growing list of both contacts and knowledge across the continent.

Equipment: Irenaeus changes his fashion on a whim, sometimes to ludicrous extremes due to his lack of sight, but this only applies when he plans to stay in one place for an extended period. Usually he is garbed in a simple traveler's cloak over a suit of cuir bouilli armor, with a pair of smoked glasses in front of his dead eyes. With his hood up and tail still, he can easily be mistaken as a Human this way, although a blind man carrying a sword is just as conspicuous as a wandering Iath. As such, hiding his race is more of a coincidence than an intent.

Always on his person is a long blade resembling a Kriegsmesser, although with the hilt and pommel of a longsword. On one side of the hilt the name "Arielle" is carved, clearly of Ewori origin. On the other side the similarly Ewori "Liora" is etched. Attached to the pommel is a short chain with a silver band (Inscribed with "I'm still with you" in Ewori) at the end of it, that when slipped onto Irenaeus' finger imparts the swordsmanship and abilities of the sword's previous owner to him. Whether this applies to all owners of the blade, or merely the last one is not a theory that he has ever tested.

Usually a second sword rests below the first, and is an unremarkable longsword aside from being old and well worn. It has no special properties, but is clearly Irenaeus' blade of choice in an every day fight. The only other thing of note on his person is a purse of silver, and if that has any magical properties they're unknown to him.

Abilities:

Blindfighting (Personal): Not so much a strength as making up for a weakness, Irenaeus is able to use his Iath-enhanced hearing to make up for the loss of his eyes in a fight. This would give him an edge fighting in low-light conditions, but otherwise can't be considered an improvement over a fighter that can see.

Two Styles, One Master (Class, Equipment): When wielding his magical blade, Iath effectively becomes a master of two entirely different styles of swordsmanship, able to switch between and combine them with ease. In a contest of pure skill, this alone is usually enough to overcome most opponents. It's previous owner was a renowned adventurer and swordmaster, after all, and Irenaeus has had a hundred years of traveling to perfect his own style.

Iath Physique (Race): Not so much an ability as just naturally a benefit of his race, Irenaeus' physique is naturally a cut above many opponents he faces. Of particular note though is a lifetime of dependency has increased his hearing even beyond his race's usual advantage.

Clumsy Cripple (Personal): Of course, in spite of this he is still blind, and confident enough in his own abilities that he rarely uses a walking stick when not on the road. As such, tripping, hitting his head, stepping on nails, and all sorts of wonderful accidents are an unfortunately frequent occurrence. He may be able to react to the sound of a sword cutting through air, but his hearing isn't refined to the point where he can avoid slamming into a silent wooden beam in the midst of a battle.

Knowledge of... (Class): A century of traveling has made Irenaeus knowledgeable of a vast number of cultures, races, and local histories across the whole of Delad. While not seemingly applicable to combat at first, he prides himself of being able to place an accent within ten miles of its origin, and knowing where your opponent is from can say a lot about how they might fight. Know your enemy.

Hellish Luck (Personal): Considered staunchly a negative by Irenaeus himself, it's almost undeniable that there is some sort of supernatural force pulling him towards trouble. Many of his "deeds" throughout the years have been accidental encounters he never meant to get into. Indeed, every time he's tried to settle down over the years there has been some occurrence preventing him from doing so. Whether the ability is pure superstition or some sort of inherent curse, he himself would rather be rid of it.

Biography: Irenaeus was born during what could be called an "extended vacation" for his parents visiting Delad. As an infant, fever burned away his eyesight and from a young age sealed off many career paths for his future. One of these, of course, was soldiering. Still, his parents had no shortage of money from their lifetime of trading along the shores of Kyir and when he expressed an interest in learning swordsmanship in spite of his handicap they hired him a tutor from Vaald. While they admired his determination to defy his condition, they also had no expectations whatsoever that it would be anything more than a hobby.

Unfortunately, it became a passion for him. His tutor, a Human, paid no mind to his condition. He learned through merciless beating after merciless beating. Would an opponent ever go easy on him because he was blind? Either he would find a way to fight back, or he should never pick up a sword to begin with. It was a simple, effective philosophy. Unfortunately for the parents that wished him to become a merchant, he found a way to fight back. By the time they decided to return to Kyir they had spent twenty years in Delad, and Irenaeus, now an adult, made the decision to stay behind and return to Vaald with his teacher. To this day he has never stepped foot in his homeland.

Still, being a student didn't exactly earn him a living. The solution appeared, like in so many stories, in a run down tavern. He was occupying himself with a drink, alone, when his ears caught a conversation across the room. A group had picked up a bounty hunting contract and were discussing hiring another blade before leaving the city. Naturally when he offered his services they viewed him with incredulity, but after a quick sparring session with one called Arielle he was welcomed with open arms. They made an amusing group: A blind Iath, a Dwarven Archer, an Ewori Swordmaster, an Orc Doctor, and an Elven Rogue. Five races from five different roads that had all met in Vaald. Upon completion of their first job together, the name they decided on for their group was both poetic and obvious.

For two decades the group traveled together, growing in fame and renown. They took on jobs from the bizarre (Escorting a lifetime's worth of smoked glasses from the kingdom in the northwest to an eccentric merchant in Vaald) to the stereotypical (Rescuing the Count of Twin Stream's daughter from a rival's lands) to the lethal. That last one was due to nothing but overconfidence on the group's part. Thinking that enlisting their party would be cheaper than hiring a guild, a local lord asked them to take care of a growing bandit problem in his demesne. Food had been scarce for years in the region, and taxes had always been harsh on the people there. Many had turned to banditry in that time, and were following a charismatic young man who promised to kill the lord and take back the money that had been taxed.

The five of them were some of the most skilled adventurers in the land. Still, what they faced could almost be called a small army. They succeeded in sneaking into the bandits' camp, and even slitting the charismatic young man's throat, when their aging Doctor tripped on the way out. His crash to the ground raised the alarm across the entire camp. Their aging Orc friend was the first to die, having long lost the edge of his youth. The Elven Rogue was cut down as she tried to sneak around the chaos and create a diversion on the other side of the camp so that her companions could find an opening to escape. The Dwarf was filled with arrows as he used his bow to cover the retreat of the heavily wounded Ewori and Iath. The former succumbed to her wounds, while the latter carried news of their Pyrrhic victory back to their employer.

Thoughts of retiring had lingered in his mind long before that day. Thoughts of settling down with Arielle, raising a daughter or two in the second half of her life. He had always expected to outlive the Ewori, and even their children. However, she had left him decades sooner than they planned, and instead of a daughter to raise after her death all he had was her sword. His wanderlust left him, and he returned to the noble whose daughter he had saved so many years ago and pledged his service to the man. So for awhile, one of the most famous adventurers in the land became a bodyguard for a woman he once saved. The bards had a field day with that one, although those songs were rarely sung now, a hundred years later. He never saw the humor in it, personally. Indeed, in his grief he commissioned "Four Dead Ends and the Crooked Path" which retained much more popularity. It seemed that people loved a tragedy more than a romance.

Still, his grief faded with time. Nearly five years after assuming his new duties the woman he was charged to protect passed from illness. While he was free to stay in the Count's employ, he chose instead to travel. What he had seen of the world thus far had always been because of his work. Between his struggles to survive and the company of his companions, he had never gotten to appreciate the people and places he encountered on the road. A part of him was looking for a new direction in his life, and another part of him was hoping to fill the void the loss of his friends left within him.

The former, at least, he was able to accomplish.

For nearly eighty years he wandered Delad, hardly resting in most places for more than a week before moving on to the next. In this time he got by on the money he had saved for his retirement from adventuring, favors from people he had assisted over the years, and good old fashioned "Will work for food". Traveling alone could never be called safe, but it was what he considered a peaceful existence. More than that it was, figuratively, an eye opening experience. Tasting a bottle of wine that could only be found in a remote village to the southwest, where a community of half-elves had gathered together and rarely received visitors. Tasting the flesh of a fish from the south that only lived for one day, to breed, lay eggs, then die. More than anything though, he enjoyed simply sitting with a bottle of wine, and listening to the locals tell stories. From local folklore, to trade, to politics. Every region had its own problems and aspirations.

In time, word of his travels spread. Eventually people managed to put two and two together, and realize that the blind Iath adventurer was also the blind Iath wanderer. Traveling to places that did not know of him became more and more rare, and in his frustration he began making more trips to Vaald. Ironically it was easier to find people who didn't know him in the most populated city on the continent. Still though, he was not able to blend in completely. One day he was recognized by a particularly eccentric Iath, in fact the very same one his friends had delivered smoked glasses to nearly a hundred years previous. They drank together, discussing their lives during the intervening years, when the merchant suddenly hit him with another job proposal: In the time since they parted last education had become the man's passion. Supposedly not long after The Five Roads delivered his shipment, he began helping to fund on of the most prestigious schools on the continent: The Grand University of Vaald. The Iath could use his influence to make Irenaeus a lecturer there, and put the knowledge he had gained as a wanderer to good use.

With much hesitation he accepted. The merchant even handed him a pair of those smoked glasses, telling him it'd be easier to hide himself with a pair of them on. Apparently the supply really had lasted a lifetime, at least a Human lifetime. Again, he attempted to settle down. His students were mostly the sons and daughters of merchants, much like himself. Knowing the land was vital to developing a business, especially for those that would be traveling rather than setting up a shop immediately. So he was paid to help others make money, for a time. However, as if by fate, five years was again all the peace he managed to enjoy. Rivalries between schools in the city were intense, it was as much a lucrative business as a gateway to knowledge. Since it's Inception, the Grand University of Vaald had been competing with the even older Vaald University of Science and The Arts. Petty vandalism was common, as were break-ins to steal information and falsify records. The peak of this rivalry came on the day of Irenaeus' 5th anniversary of lecturing for the institution. In broad daylight a gang of hired thugs ransacked the university, and set fire to it. Irenaeus, with only the leg of a chair as his weapon, drove the thugs from the building and helped save what students he could. The building itself though, was lost.

Before the city that was slowly forgetting about him could have time to remember who he was, he left Vaald once more. Still though, he was determined to fight the fate that seemed intent on keeping him on the road. He traveled to that demesne that held so many painful memories for him and purchased some land. Upon it he built a simple establishment: The Five Roads Inn. For the first time in his life he decided to put his past to good use, and at least make as much profit from it as possible. It became more of a tourist spot than a resting place for travelers, attracting people who had heard of the tragedy that befell the group in those woods, and wondered with grim curiosity if the survivor really had returned to run a business.

Perhaps if Irenaeus could have run that Inn for more than five years, he would have considered his earlier experiences nothing but chance. However, five years to the day of it's opening his property was seized by the local lord, grandson of the man that had sent his group to their deaths. Apparently, taxes had been raised the year after he had established the place, and no word of such had ever reached him. They required his lands to pay off the debt, and his savings to look the other way at the crime and not imprison him. While he did have years to spare in his life, ultimately he chose to give up the money.

Since then he has spent the last decade of his life in Vaald exclusively, trying to both keep a low profile and use his talents to pick up work. He spends most of his nights drinking away his coin purse as he wonders where his life will lead next. Thoughts of wandering again have begun to plague him, thoughts of adventure and excitement. Perhaps more than anything though, there's been an itch in his sword hand that hasn't been satisfied in a long time.

Emerson Pèlerin

Name: Emerson (Em') L. Pèlerin

Age: 17

Race: Human

Gender: Both? Neither? Responds to both He and She and prefers not to think about it.

Affiliation: Aurelius The Sage (Apprentice, former), Unaffiliated.

Appearance:
Emerson's appearance depends entirely on how he prefers presenting herself from one day to the next. With plenty of outfits to give off both a masculine and feminine appearance, it's a toss up depending on her mood and how long he's portrayed himself as one gender or the other. He likes to change it up from time to time purely to keep the heat off her back. On top of this, her hair colour also changes daily, almost a source of pride for Emerson. He started training her magical endurance a decade ago by changing one strand at a time until he passed out from the effort. It's still a tiring task, but part of her daily regiment.

Other than Emerson's extreme androgyny, there are a few other features that are distinguishable. While attractive there are signs of malnourishment present, she's not quite dangerously thin, yet, but it's clear that eating has either been impossible or of a lesser priority for some time. On top of this he's quite short, perhaps a result of stunted growth throughout her youth. Whatever the reason, Emerson barely breaks five foot on a good day, tiptoes or not. If pointed out, she would usually deflect by saying all of his growth went into his brain.

A scar heavily resembling that of the Moonscratched is present on Emerson's chest, well hidden beneath her clothing. Magical runes can also usually be seen running up and down the length of both arms, notes taken when inspiration strikes and the parchment in his backpack is too far away to bother retrieving. Usually these are covered up with long sleeves to avoid unneeded suspicion, but some days she can get carried away. Thankfully Vaald has an infinite number of hiding places on days he gets careless.

Personality: Emerson is in actuality quite social in spite of both his past life on the streets, and his shut in years of research and magical practice. Perhaps it was because of this shut in lifestyle that she developed a habit of seeking out company, even if she prefers to read or otherwise occupy himself while carrying on a conversation. A lack of... experience in this department and a bizarre sense of humor means that she does personify social awkwardness.

On top of this, while she loves talking about her research into the magical arts, she's bizarrely tight lipped about his actual years as an apprentice, describing what he does decide to share in a cold, matter-of-fact manner that one might find more fitting to her analytical mind. He is only slightly less distant about her years living on the streets of Vaald, clearly much more interested in staying in the present. Still, beneath this detached exterior cracks of emotion can be seen if asked on a particularly bad day. Hinting that these experiences are not so distant in Emerson's mind.

Clearly though she has a deep love for what she does. Even though it takes great effort to cast even the smallest amount of magic, he does so with great joy. When fatigue inevitably overtakes him from the strain of his actions, Emerson passes out with a smile on her face, clearly enjoying a satisfying slumber. How long it takes him to recover varies, but usually ten or twenty minutes will suffice, leaving him exhausted for the rest of the day afterward.

Class: Prodigy (Mage). Gifted with almost no magical potential, it's this character's ability to absorb and retain a massive amount of knowledge of the craft that gives them such a potent ability as a spellcaster. Possesses a wide and powerful variety of magic, but lack of natural talent severely limits the endurance of the user.

(Former) Urchin: Life as a street rat teaches most people at least a few thieving abilities. These are not often evolved beyond their most basic level, but still notable. Picking pockets, street smarts, and stepping lightly are all benefits of this class.

Equipment: A backpack stuffed with various research materials, and spare paper and ink to take notes on. Much heavier than one would expect at first glance. In actuality holds twenty times it's apparent volume (Although space is not unlimited, and weight is only divided by a fourth).

A quarterstaff, the length of which is a full foot longer than Emerson is tall, usually stored inside his backpack in order to avoid unneeded suspicion.

A glass phial whose function is to hold one spell in reserve. After shattering the spell is released as if just cast, and the phial returns to Emerson's backpack after 24 hours, waiting to be filled with a new spell.

Both men and women's clothing, multiple outfits of each, stored in her backpack.

Abilities:

Photographic Memory (Personal): Emerson forgets nothing that he is taught, or reads. Events may pass by her notice, but that's usually because he is more absorbed in research than what's going on around her. Can also come in handy to recognize off duty guardsmen to avoid.

Magical Prodigy (Class): Magic fascinates Emerson more than anything else in the world, and she's dedicated every spare moment of her young life to it's study, and practice. Moreso than just recreating existing spells and effects, he strives to invent new and creative ways to implement the powerful resource.

Bereft of Talent (Personal): An almost complete lack of natural affinity for magic means that it's use taxes Emerson to the extreme. Often only one or two spells of even moderate potency will knock him out, or otherwise drain her completely of energy.

Poor Eater (Personal): Whether due to circumstances or choice, food has never been something Emerson has had in abundance. While this has affected her strength less than one might expect (Just try lifting her backpack) he tires easily when straining himself with non magical tasks as well. This, however, is much less extreme than his magical lack of endurance.

Urchin's Skills (Class): While they've rusted since she was a child, Emerson's life growing up on the streets of Vaald has instilled a certain number of thieving talents. These have helped him elude capture in the last few months, and could conceivably be improved to full blown thieving skills of she so chose to spend her energy perfecting them. He has no such desire though.

Dual Casting (Class, Personal): Emerson's trademark is mixing two (or more) types of magic to make a more potent affect. Often this results in overkill, but she considers it to be experimentation as much as practical use. Whether this means creating earthen shackles that electrocute their target, or a fireball that also freezes the insides of it's victim, the results are sure to be interesting if nothing else.

Biography: Emerson grew up like many of the urchins lining the streets of Vaald: Poorly. Although her lack of nutrition wasn't due to any absence in talent as a thief. Indeed, had he chosen her belly would have never been left wanting in those years. However, he put those talents to far better use (at least in her mind): The theft of books. Literacy wasn't something common amongst his kind, so he traded favors in exchange for education. Food and baubles were exchanged for knowledge, which awakened a voracity in her that still has yet to be quenched. One day a drunk and lost man stumbled upon her hidden library in the alleys of Vaald, and recognized her potential as a student. That man was Aurelius The Sage, one of the greatest researchers of the arcane arts on the continent.

For almost ten years to the day Emerson served under the man, attacking Aurelius' library of research like a starved animal. However, there was one slight speed bump in Emerson's road to magehood: he was almost entirely lacking in talent for the magical arts. Every spell cast felt like swimming against a raging river, and rarely could he perform more than one such feat per day. However, the results were always both precise and powerful. Emerson seemed to grasp the science behind the magical arts like few others. How exactly to coax the power latent in the world around her and change it to suit his needs. Within the (admittedly small) world of magical research, Emerson was hailed as a prodigy, more than capable of even surpassing her teacher.

However, three months ago Aurelius was found mutilated in his bedroom. His skin was burnt almost beyond recognition and his organs were found to be completely frozen solid underneath. Dual magic was known to be a specialty of Emerson, and especially considering the fact that the prodigy was nowhere to be found in the aftermath of the murder led investigators to deduce an obvious culprit. Those who have said to have met the prodigy in the months since the incident claim that Emerson has professed innocence, but has thusfar evaded authorities. He often uses his relative anonymity (At least amongst the general public), and ability to easily pass as one gender or the other from day to day to avoid suspicion. That, and a quick escape is only a spell away. A painful, taxing spell away.

Moonscratch Chronicle; Cycle One

I didn't see a preference for sending in characters by PM, so here's the first (last?) draft. You will be overjoyed that I summed up his 80 years of wandering as quickly as possible once you get to the bio. Of course let me know if he's overpowered (I don't think underpowered will be an issue), I tried to strike a pretty good balance between "Top class fighter" and "Beatable".

Irenaeus of The Five Roads

Name: Irenaeus (No known surname, sometimes "of The Five Roads" is included)

Age: 135 years

Race: Iath

Gender: Male

Affiliation:Five Roads Adventuring Company (Founding Member, Disbanded), County of Twin Streams (Retainer, Former), Grand University of Vaald (Lecturer, Former), Five Roads Inn (Proprietor, Former)

Appearance:
Irenaeus' most immediately noticeable features are of course that of his race: His golden eyes, feline ears, and tail. These, however, are not usually readily apparently. His dead, blind eyes are usually hidden behind a pair of smoked glasses, and his traveling garb tends to keep his tail hidden and ears out of sight (When the hood is raised, at least). He insists this is more by coincidence than design, but he's had more than one "discussion" with baffled members of his proud race over it. Truthfully, he considers his fame a nuisance and if he can hide both his race and his disability then he wouldn't complain.

Aside from this, a lifetime of traveling and fighting has given him an impressive physique even amongst his own kind. A hundred years of walking and swordsmanship have given him a relatively thin frame, but every inch of it is well used muscle. He stands at least head and shoulder taller than most Humans, already one of the taller races on the continent. As such, even once someone knows he is blind they tend to leave him alone, say nothing of the swords kept at his side.

Personality: Gregarious would be Irenaeus summed up in a word. Part of his love for traveling is his love of meeting new people, and a melting pot of races like Delad means that there is always someone interesting to meet in the next village. Still, his love of people doesn't always translate to how he treats them. Aloofness, sarcasm, and bitter criticism are equally mixed with generosity, laughter, and praise. He'll buy you a drink, compliment your singing and tell you that he's never met a more horrible dancer all in one breath. He can be, as such, hard to get a read on at times. Still, he likes to talk, and behind that criticism is a desire to give advice. He sees his long life as a chance to spread wisdom, especially so that others don't have to go through what he has to obtain it.

Moreover he tries to steer the conversation away from himself whenever possible. He won't deny who he is to someone that has guessed his identity, but also doesn't hesitate to give a false name or lie about his past to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. Even a hundred years later people who know about him seem to be fascinated only with the two most painful decades of his life, and he has grown tired of it.

Class: Iath Wanderer: Certainly a diverse class, as the name would indicate. What these few individuals possess is not a particular set of skills or talent, but a wealth of experience that their longer lifespan grants them, combined with their largely Human-like lust for life. Naturally when age is one of the main factors going for you, it means that this class grows more powerful, or more diverse, as the characters grows older. It also tends to mean a growing list of both contacts and knowledge across the continent.

Equipment: Irenaeus changes his fashion on a whim, sometimes to ludicrous extremes due to his lack of sight, but this only applies when he plans to stay in one place for an extended period. Usually he is garbed in a simple traveler's cloak over a suit of cuir bouilli armor, with a pair of smoked glasses in front of his dead eyes. With his hood up and tail still, he can easily be mistaken as a Human this way, although a blind man carrying a sword is just as conspicuous as a wandering Iath. As such, hiding his race is more of a coincidence than an intent.

Always on his person is a long blade resembling a Kriegsmesser, although with the hilt and pommel of a longsword. On one side of the hilt the name "Arielle" is carved, clearly of Ewori origin. On the other side the similarly Ewori "Liora" is etched. Attached to the pommel is a short chain with a silver band (Inscribed with "I'm still with you" in Ewori) at the end of it, that when slipped onto Irenaeus' finger imparts the swordsmanship and abilities of the sword's previous owner to him. Whether this applies to all owners of the blade, or merely the last one is not a theory that he has ever tested.

Usually a second sword rests below the first, and is an unremarkable longsword aside from being old and well worn. It has no special properties, but is clearly Irenaeus' blade of choice in an every day fight. The only other thing of note on his person is a purse of silver, and if that has any magical properties they're unknown to him.

Abilities:

Blindfighting (Personal): Not so much a strength as making up for a weakness, Irenaeus is able to use his Iath-enhanced hearing to make up for the loss of his eyes in a fight. This would give him an edge fighting in low-light conditions, but otherwise can't be considered an improvement over a fighter that can see.

Two Styles, One Master (Class, Equipment): When wielding his magical blade, Iath effectively becomes a master of two entirely different styles of swordsmanship, able to switch between and combine them with ease. In a contest of pure skill, this alone is usually enough to overcome most opponents. It's previous owner was a renowned adventurer and swordmaster, after all, and Irenaeus has had a hundred years of traveling to perfect his own style.

Iath Physique (Race): Not so much an ability as just naturally a benefit of his race, Irenaeus' physique is naturally a cut above many opponents he faces. Of particular note though is a lifetime of dependency has increased his hearing even beyond his race's usual advantage.

Clumsy Cripple (Personal): Of course, in spite of this he is still blind, and confident enough in his own abilities that he rarely uses a walking stick when not on the road. As such, tripping, hitting his head, stepping on nails, and all sorts of wonderful accidents are an unfortunately frequent occurrence. He may be able to react to the sound of a sword cutting through air, but his hearing isn't refined to the point where he can avoid slamming into a silent wooden beam in the midst of a battle.

Knowledge of... (Class): A century of traveling has made Irenaeus knowledgeable of a vast number of cultures, races, and local histories across the whole of Delad. While not seemingly applicable to combat at first, he prides himself of being able to place an accent within ten miles of its origin, and knowing where your opponent is from can say a lot about how they might fight. Know your enemy.

Hellish Luck (Personal): Considered staunchly a negative by Irenaeus himself, it's almost undeniable that there is some sort of supernatural force pulling him towards trouble. Many of his "deeds" throughout the years have been accidental encounters he never meant to get into. Indeed, every time he's tried to settle down over the years there has been some occurrence preventing him from doing so. Whether the ability is pure superstition or some sort of inherent curse, he himself would rather be rid of it.

Biography: Irenaeus was born during what could be called an "extended vacation" for his parents visiting Delad. As an infant, fever burned away his eyesight and from a young age sealed off many career paths for his future. One of these, of course, was soldiering. Still, his parents had no shortage of money from their lifetime of trading along the shores of Kyir and when he expressed an interest in learning swordsmanship in spite of his handicap they hired him a tutor from Vaald. While they admired his determination to defy his condition, they also had no expectations whatsoever that it would be anything more than a hobby.

Unfortunately, it became a passion for him. His tutor, a Human, paid no mind to his condition. He learned through merciless beating after merciless beating. Would an opponent ever go easy on him because he was blind? Either he would find a way to fight back, or he should never pick up a sword to begin with. It was a simple, effective philosophy. Unfortunately for the parents that wished him to become a merchant, he found a way to fight back. By the time they decided to return to Kyir they had spent twenty years in Delad, and Irenaeus, now an adult, made the decision to stay behind and return to Vaald with his teacher. To this day he has never stepped foot in his homeland.

Still, being a student didn't exactly earn him a living. The solution appeared, like in so many stories, in a run down tavern. He was occupying himself with a drink, alone, when his ears caught a conversation across the room. A group had picked up a bounty hunting contract and were discussing hiring another blade before leaving the city. Naturally when he offered his services they viewed him with incredulity, but after a quick sparring session with one called Arielle he was welcomed with open arms. They made an amusing group: A blind Iath, a Dwarven Archer, an Ewori Swordmaster, an Orc Doctor, and an Elven Rogue. Five races from five different roads that had all met in Vaald. Upon completion of their first job together, the name they decided on for their group was both poetic and obvious.

For two decades the group traveled together, growing in fame and renown. They took on jobs from the bizarre (Escorting a lifetime's worth of smoked glasses from the kingdom in the northwest to an eccentric merchant in Vaald) to the stereotypical (Rescuing the Count of Twin Stream's daughter from a rival's lands) to the lethal. That last one was due to nothing but overconfidence on the group's part. Thinking that enlisting their party would be cheaper than hiring a guild, a local lord asked them to take care of a growing bandit problem in his demesne. Food had been scarce for years in the region, and taxes had always been harsh on the people there. Many had turned to banditry in that time, and were following a charismatic young man who promised to kill the lord and take back the money that had been taxed.

The five of them were some of the most skilled adventurers in the land. Still, what they faced could almost be called a small army. They succeeded in sneaking into the bandits' camp, and even slitting the charismatic young man's throat, when their aging Doctor tripped on the way out. His crash to the ground raised the alarm across the entire camp. Their aging Orc friend was the first to die, having long lost the edge of his youth. The Elven Rogue was cut down as she tried to sneak around the chaos and create a diversion on the other side of the camp so that her companions could find an opening to escape. The Dwarf was filled with arrows as he used his bow to cover the retreat of the heavily wounded Ewori and Iath. The former succumbed to her wounds, while the latter carried news of their Pyrrhic victory back to their employer.

Thoughts of retiring had lingered in his mind long before that day. Thoughts of settling down with Arielle, raising a daughter or two in the second half of her life. He had always expected to outlive the Ewori, and even their children. However, she had left him decades sooner than they planned, and instead of a daughter to raise after her death all he had was her sword. His wanderlust left him, and he returned to the noble whose daughter he had saved so many years ago and pledged his service to the man. So for awhile, one of the most famous adventurers in the land became a bodyguard for a woman he once saved. The bards had a field day with that one, although those songs were rarely sung now, a hundred years later. He never saw the humor in it, personally. Indeed, in his grief he commissioned "Four Dead Ends and the Crooked Path" which retained much more popularity. It seemed that people loved a tragedy more than a romance.

Still, his grief faded with time. Nearly five years after assuming his new duties the woman he was charged to protect passed from illness. While he was free to stay in the Count's employ, he chose instead to travel. What he had seen of the world thus far had always been because of his work. Between his struggles to survive and the company of his companions, he had never gotten to appreciate the people and places he encountered on the road. A part of him was looking for a new direction in his life, and another part of him was hoping to fill the void the loss of his friends left within him.

The former, at least, he was able to accomplish.

For nearly eighty years he wandered Delad, hardly resting in most places for more than a week before moving on to the next. In this time he got by on the money he had saved for his retirement from adventuring, favors from people he had assisted over the years, and good old fashioned "Will work for food". Traveling alone could never be called safe, but it was what he considered a peaceful existence. More than that it was, figuratively, an eye opening experience. Tasting a bottle of wine that could only be found in a remote village to the southwest, where a community of half-elves had gathered together and rarely received visitors. Tasting the flesh of a fish from the south that only lived for one day, to breed, lay eggs, then die. More than anything though, he enjoyed simply sitting with a bottle of wine, and listening to the locals tell stories. From local folklore, to trade, to politics. Every region had its own problems and aspirations.

In time, word of his travels spread. Eventually people managed to put two and two together, and realize that the blind Iath adventurer was also the blind Iath wanderer. Traveling to places that did not know of him became more and more rare, and in his frustration he began making more trips to Vaald. Ironically it was easier to find people who didn't know him in the most populated city on the continent. Still though, he was not able to blend in completely. One day he was recognized by a particularly eccentric Iath, in fact the very same one his friends had delivered smoked glasses to nearly a hundred years previous. They drank together, discussing their lives during the intervening years, when the merchant suddenly hit him with another job proposal: In the time since they parted last education had become the man's passion. Supposedly not long after The Five Roads delivered his shipment, he began helping to fund on of the most prestigious schools on the continent: The Grand University of Vaald. The Iath could use his influence to make Irenaeus a lecturer there, and put the knowledge he had gained as a wanderer to good use.

With much hesitation he accepted. The merchant even handed him a pair of those smoked glasses, telling him it'd be easier to hide himself with a pair of them on. Apparently the supply really had lasted a lifetime, at least a Human lifetime. Again, he attempted to settle down. His students were mostly the sons and daughters of merchants, much like himself. Knowing the land was vital to developing a business, especially for those that would be traveling rather than setting up a shop immediately. So he was paid to help others make money, for a time. However, as if by fate, five years was again all the peace he managed to enjoy. Rivalries between schools in the city were intense, it was as much a lucrative business as a gateway to knowledge. Since it's Inception, the Grand University of Vaald had been competing with the even older Vaald University of Science and The Arts. Petty vandalism was common, as were break-ins to steal information and falsify records. The peak of this rivalry came on the day of Irenaeus' 5th anniversary of lecturing for the institution. In broad daylight a gang of hired thugs ransacked the university, and set fire to it. Irenaeus, with only the leg of a chair as his weapon, drove the thugs from the building and helped save what students he could. The building itself though, was lost.

Before the city that was slowly forgetting about him could have time to remember who he was, he left Vaald once more. Still though, he was determined to fight the fate that seemed intent on keeping him on the road. He traveled to that demesne that held so many painful memories for him and purchased some land. Upon it he built a simple establishment: The Five Roads Inn. For the first time in his life he decided to put his past to good use, and at least make as much profit from it as possible. It became more of a tourist spot than a resting place for travelers, attracting people who had heard of the tragedy that befell the group in those woods, and wondered with grim curiosity if the survivor really had returned to run a business.

Perhaps if Irenaeus could have run that Inn for more than five years, he would have considered his earlier experiences nothing but chance. However, five years to the day of it's opening his property was seized by the local lord, grandson of the man that had sent his group to their deaths. Apparently, taxes had been raised the year after he had established the place, and no word of such had ever reached him. They required his lands to pay off the debt, and his savings to look the other way at the crime and not imprison him. While he did have years to spare in his life, ultimately he chose to give up the money.

Since then he has spent the last decade of his life in Vaald exclusively, trying to both keep a low profile and use his talents to pick up work. He spends most of his nights drinking away his coin purse as he wonders where his life will lead next. Thoughts of wandering again have begun to plague him, thoughts of adventure and excitement. Perhaps more than anything though, there's been an itch in his sword hand that hasn't been satisfied in a long time.

Oh, and with his backstory I'm definitely up to collabing histories with some of existing characters. I've already spoken a bit with Komamisa about this and we have something potentially interesting planned there.