Mara was stirred from her thoughts by Vincent's comments. Her lips pursed for a moment as she thought about all the amenities she had to go without during her time with the Sacred Blades. This had been a long and arduous journey, and frankly she had not been as fully prepared for it. Traveling was one thing, but having to constantly worry about one's well-being and that of others is another. The responsibilities of a cleric were manyfold, and she had only just begun to discover them.
Leaning on her staff for support, the cleric began to survey the rest of the Sacred Blades. She had made it a habit to check in on them regularly to ensure that they were healthy enough to march on. Truth be told, though, she had been lax in her duties during the past week. This was only made more evident by her realization that she had completely forgotten to check on the leader since the last major battle, which she had, for the most part, not participated in. "He better be okay...", Mara whispered under her breath as she straightened herself and began to walk.
She made it a point to wait until Wyeth was done making announcements before approaching him. When she saw his injury, Mara tried her best to hide her worry. Realizing she had neglected to tend to her leader's wounds only furthered her self-doubt, and the last thing Mara wanted was for this to be reflected in her actions. Perhaps she wasn't cut out as a cleric, though. After all, she had only been a lowly apprentice not so long ago. The fact that Wyeth and the others put up with Mara's relative inexperience made her wonder if they were simply desperate for any sort of help.
With an outstretched hand, she gestured to Wyeth's wounded arm while speaking in a stern voice. "I hope you weren't planning on walking around with that. We can't have our leader falling ill" She switched to a more concerned tone, "let me have a look." If Wyeth allowed her, she would begin her ministrations. First by applying a balm to numb the pain, and then, Naga willing, by using what power she could muster with her worn healing staff. All the while, Mara would try to remain aloof.
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OH JEBUS, how'd I miss someone bleeding so heavily? Blah. I'm a baaaad cleric! x_x
Mara had already weathered so much in her time with the Sacred Blades. There was only so much a healer could do for grievous wounds, and in the heat of the battle, all it took was one well-placed blow to end someone’s life. The losses were beginning to take their toll on Mara, who had been even more silent than usual in the past couple of days. She could only bid herself to nod and weakly smile whenever her gaze happened to meet another’s. Silently, she repeated the names of the fallen in her head, wondering what their lives would have been had things been different. Had she saved them...
The cleric brushed aside strands of her silky brown hair as she peered at Ylisstol in the distance. She did not enjoy the thought of returning to the city, a place full of painful memories, but the prospect of having more recruits and a chance to rest was quite enticing. This was an opportunity for Mara to stock up on healing supplies and to repair her healing staff, which had seen more use than she would have liked.
The voices had grown silent. Why? What now? Verin tried to fight back his rising anxiety as his eyes remained closed. His usefulness would come to an end if he could not supply any more “divine insight”; it had already been a week of silence now, and there were no signs of change. Verin had tried everything to bring back the dark whispers. He pleaded, cried, and tried all manner of sacrifice and atonement. Nothing. Nothing at all.
The room smelled faintly of incense, which had long since burned out. The young prophet had been meditating for countless hours, and had requested others to not bother him while he was within his quarters. While they had complied, Verin secretly had wished for an excuse not to continue pursuing this useless agenda.
The cleric brushed aside strands of her silky brown hair as she peered at Ylisstol in the distance. She did not enjoy the thought of returning to the city, a place full of painful memories, but the prospect of having more recruits and a chance to rest was quite enticing. This was an opportunity for Mara to stock up on healing supplies and to repair her healing staff, which had seen more use than she would have liked.
The voices had grown silent. Why? What now? Verin tried to fight back his rising anxiety as his eyes remained closed. His usefulness would come to an end if he could not supply any more “divine insight”; it had already been a week of silence now, and there were no signs of change. Verin had tried everything to bring back the dark whispers. He pleaded, cried, and tried all manner of sacrifice and atonement. Nothing. Nothing at all.
The room smelled faintly of incense, which had long since burned out. The young prophet had been meditating for countless hours, and had requested others to not bother him while he was within his quarters. While they had complied, Verin secretly had wished for an excuse not to continue pursuing this useless agenda.
Quick question: are we currently traveling with the Sacred Blades or are they supposed to be recruiting us in Ylisstol?
Wow, I had forgotten about this thread and just got back to it, and look at all of this fantastic advice! Thank you all so much. :)
Still very interested...
Username: Zagreus
Name: Verin
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Birthday/Zodiac: August 5th, Leo
Allegiance: Grimleal
Class: Dark Mage -> Sorcerer
Clothing: Same as appearance
Weapons: Nosferatu, Waste, Elwind
Appearance:
Personality: Verin is timid and usually preoccupied with his own thoughts. Having followed orders for most of his life, he's rather obedient. Verin lacks confidence, and derives his self-worth from how useful he can make himself to others. Predictably, this can cause him to be quite the depressing fellow, and the people who treat him poorly only exacerbate this. Verin is in some ways a misguided youth whose ethics have been warped by his willingness to obey.
History: Verin was ignored from the time he was born. A mistake. Unwanted. Discarded. He spent much of his life struggling to live in Plegia, with very few good things coming his way. His misfortune was compounded by his relative frailty: he was unable to do the labor demanded of a person his age, and as such was forced to rely on the "kindness" of the worshipers of Grima by becoming a simple acolyte. Even then, he was hardly ever acknowledged. Verin was fed little, and was cared for even less. He did his best to earn his keep, but he was constantly reminded of his unworthiness.
Understandably, this had a terrible effect on Verin's self-esteem, and such hardships took its toll on his mind. Verin would retreat into himself on an almost daily basis, earning the ire of his superiors and a painful caning. Verin learned to associate pain with disobedience, and tried his best to appease others in fear of receiving more pain. It was around this time that Verin began to hear whispers. It is difficult to say whether Verin conjured up these whispers to dissociate himself from the rest of the world, or if the whispers were actually from some otherworldly source. Either way, Verin believed them, for what else did he have to believe in? The dark whispers told him of many things, and the knowledge which filled Verin's mind began to warp his perceptions of reality.
It was clear to others that Verin was beginning to lose it. What happened next, though, could be considered a small blessing for Verin: the dark whispers which the boy spoke of were interpreted as some sort of divine prophecy by his superiors. Could Verin perhaps be some sort of prophet, relaying the divine will of Grima? Perhaps. Not even Verin can say for sure where the whispers originate from, and most of the time they hardly make any sense at all.
For the first time, though, people were actually paying attention to Verin. They were asking him questions. They cared. Verin drew comfort from this, and did his best to interpret the whispers, despite him not quite knowing what they meant at times. Currently, Verin's reputation has not spread far and wide enough to warrant any special treatment outside of those that knew him originally. Word has gotten out enough, though, that there will be others seeking to use him in time. Verin would happily serve anyone that asks, so long as he believed he was being truly useful to them.
Ability: Is guided by dark forces
Quirk: A bit touched in the head
Strengths: Highly proficient in magic, at times his madness blesses him with insight
Weaknesses: Frail, impressionable, low self-esteem, low pain tolerance
Likes: Being alone, quiet, being useful
Dislikes: Himself, Naga worshippers, his parents (wherever they are), physical labor
Other: "Finally, I have a purpose..."
Name: Verin
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Birthday/Zodiac: August 5th, Leo
Allegiance: Grimleal
Class: Dark Mage -> Sorcerer
Clothing: Same as appearance
Weapons: Nosferatu, Waste, Elwind
Appearance:
Personality: Verin is timid and usually preoccupied with his own thoughts. Having followed orders for most of his life, he's rather obedient. Verin lacks confidence, and derives his self-worth from how useful he can make himself to others. Predictably, this can cause him to be quite the depressing fellow, and the people who treat him poorly only exacerbate this. Verin is in some ways a misguided youth whose ethics have been warped by his willingness to obey.
History: Verin was ignored from the time he was born. A mistake. Unwanted. Discarded. He spent much of his life struggling to live in Plegia, with very few good things coming his way. His misfortune was compounded by his relative frailty: he was unable to do the labor demanded of a person his age, and as such was forced to rely on the "kindness" of the worshipers of Grima by becoming a simple acolyte. Even then, he was hardly ever acknowledged. Verin was fed little, and was cared for even less. He did his best to earn his keep, but he was constantly reminded of his unworthiness.
Understandably, this had a terrible effect on Verin's self-esteem, and such hardships took its toll on his mind. Verin would retreat into himself on an almost daily basis, earning the ire of his superiors and a painful caning. Verin learned to associate pain with disobedience, and tried his best to appease others in fear of receiving more pain. It was around this time that Verin began to hear whispers. It is difficult to say whether Verin conjured up these whispers to dissociate himself from the rest of the world, or if the whispers were actually from some otherworldly source. Either way, Verin believed them, for what else did he have to believe in? The dark whispers told him of many things, and the knowledge which filled Verin's mind began to warp his perceptions of reality.
It was clear to others that Verin was beginning to lose it. What happened next, though, could be considered a small blessing for Verin: the dark whispers which the boy spoke of were interpreted as some sort of divine prophecy by his superiors. Could Verin perhaps be some sort of prophet, relaying the divine will of Grima? Perhaps. Not even Verin can say for sure where the whispers originate from, and most of the time they hardly make any sense at all.
For the first time, though, people were actually paying attention to Verin. They were asking him questions. They cared. Verin drew comfort from this, and did his best to interpret the whispers, despite him not quite knowing what they meant at times. Currently, Verin's reputation has not spread far and wide enough to warrant any special treatment outside of those that knew him originally. Word has gotten out enough, though, that there will be others seeking to use him in time. Verin would happily serve anyone that asks, so long as he believed he was being truly useful to them.
Ability: Is guided by dark forces
Quirk: A bit touched in the head
Strengths: Highly proficient in magic, at times his madness blesses him with insight
Weaknesses: Frail, impressionable, low self-esteem, low pain tolerance
Likes: Being alone, quiet, being useful
Dislikes: Himself, Naga worshippers, his parents (wherever they are), physical labor
Other: "Finally, I have a purpose..."
Do you think you might need another Grimleal-aligned character? I might be able to help supply one if so.
I think I fixed the picture! I hope I fixed it. Dx
Oh, okay. I think I understand now. Thanks.
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