The World of Layonara
Character Development => Development Journals and Discussion => Topic started by: thekevmon on March 24, 2010, 09:04:19 PM
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(original submission, just for reference)
Name: Drakollith Blackthorn
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Class: Wizard
Race: Human
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Deity: None
Biography:
The Age of Winter was upon Layonara. Disease ran rampant, starvation was everywhere, and the patience of the citizens of Haven was worn thin. A young wizard, a lifetime citizen of the city and a man who was respected by those who knew him, was particularly irritated. He was tired of the constant misfortune, the lack of food, and he knew that somewhere the situation must be better. Deciding to move farther south with his wife and closest friends, Brath Blackthorn left Haven.
The journey was long and uneventful. Any danger they encountered was easily fought off by the pioneers, with the aid of Brath's minor magical talents. After several days of travel, the group found themselves in the Gloom Woods. While they encountered various malicious species in the woods, the weather and soil were capable of supporting their crops and there were occasionally small animals to be found and consumed. There was one animal in particular, a raven who seemed to thrive in the woods, that Brath took a liking to. Because of its ease of survival in the harsh environment, Brath named the bird Harbinger, in the hopes that it would bring luck to their struggle. The trees were cleared, houses were constructed, and Blackthorn Village was born.
The citizens unanimously agreed to name the village after Brath, as he was the one man they all respected and it was his idea to move. Also, Brath was elected the leader of the village, and any major decisions that were going to be made had to be approved by Brath beforehand.
A year into their struggle for survival, Brath and his wife were blessed with a child, a boy they named Drakollith. He was born albino, with incredibly pale skin and white hair. However, instead of the typical pink-red eyes, Drakollith's eyes were a cold, lifeless gray. Brath loved his boy very much.
Drakollith was not allowed out of the house very much, but their house had grown considerably in size since the time of construction, a gift from the grateful citizens. When Drakollith was just 10, his father felt it was time to teach him what he knew about magic. He brought Drakollith to his shelf and instructed him to pick any of the bundles of scrolls there to study first. At first, Drakollith couldn't choose, with all the bright colored bands and elaborate words printed in languages he couldn't read. However, his attention was eventually drawn to a simple looking, dusty bundle with a black band and no visible title. He picked the bundle off the shelf and gave it to his father.
Brath was a kind father, and he allowed Drakollith a great amount of privilege, but he was not about to let his son study spells of necromancy, especially not at his age. Brath put the bundle back on the shelf, and told him to choose another one without explaining himself. A little disappointed, Drakollith chose a different bundle, one with an orange band, and he and his father began studying the parchments together.
In the village, there was little to do but study. His constant studies led to a thin relationship between himself and his mother, as they did not communicate much. She spent her time in other parts of the house while he was busy studying, and there was little contact between them. Drakollith proved to be a very smart boy, and it was discovered that he was quite proficient in magic. His father had never brought him past the first few pages of each bundle because he himself was not a great wizard, barely possessing any gift at all. It was not long before Drakollith could read the scrolls himself, and on a few he could even read farther than his father. It took Drakollith seven years, but he had finally read through every bundle of scrolls his father owned. All except one.
His father had never allowed him to read that one black-banded bundle of scrolls, and it was not long before his curiosity had taken hold of him. He stole the papers off the shelf one night, and started reading them. He would study them whenever his father was not around, would practice the spells that he read about. Due to his interest and focus, he picked the art up quickly. It was not long before his knowledge of necromancy had surpassed his knowledge of the other schools of magic, and it was easily his favorite. He could feel the power he possessed coursing through his veins, could envision what he could become whenever he was involved in necromancy. His respect for his father plummeted, as he believed his father was weak for not wanting to practice these spells. His fascination with the art led to a desire for more. He wanted to see others fall before his power, feel what it was like, and realize his full potential. He craved nothing more than power. He realized he only had but one obstacle that would stand in the way of his journey.
Brath Blackthorn awoke that morning to the sound of shattering glass. The broken mirror on the floor at his bedside and his son's black-robed figure were all he saw before he felt the life being stolen from his body.
His journey met its end, but another was just beginning. Knowing the village would not tolerate the death of their beloved leader, Drakollith decided to flee the village, but he felt he had one last task to complete here. On his way out the door, Drakollith took a torch out of its sconce and casually tossed it to the floor, setting the rug and wooden floor alight. He would not have his mother meddling in his future affairs. Satisfied with himself, he left the forest, only slowing down slightly when Harbinger the raven landed on his shoulder. He left everything his father had worked for behind.
While venturing through the forest, Drakollith encountered a pair of hunters from Vehl. After conversing for a while with the two, Drakollith had learned of their plot to catch and destroy a skeletal ogre, and his magical talents would be rewarded with money. Drakollith did not care to aid them, but the thought of seeing a product of necromancy in action intrigued him. He agreed to help the pair catch the ogre.
The trap was set. The hunters were to grab the attention of the ogre and lead it back within the range of Drakollith, where he was to help destroy it. The plan had worked out so far, but the hunters had made one miscalculation: they had chosen to place their trust in Drakollith Blackthorn. As the hunters signaled over and over for Drakollith to begin his barrage, he watched in fascination as the ogre tore them to shreds. Drakollith knew the power of necromancy, and he knew that these hunters did not have a hope of survival. He was far enough away from the ogre that it could not sense him, so he waited. The presence of a nearby creature must have caught the ogre's attention, and Drakollith was able to take what money they had off their corpses.
He left the corpses in the open, allowing any beast that wanted them to have them. He continued his journey south, stopping only when the gates of Fort Vehl were behind him.
Description:
Drakollith cares little for people. His goal in adventuring is not to make friends, but rather to become the great power he sees in his future. He will use any means necessary to achieve this. While he does not thrive on chaos and desire the misfortune of everyone around him, neither does he feel any loyalty or sympathy for others. He may not kill just for the pleasure of watching his enemies die, but he will if he feels that the death of his foe would benefit him in the slightest. He is willing to do whatever it takes to fulfill his potental.
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The Blackthorn Diary
I can feel it...
My power has grown tremendously over these few months, and with so little effort! These worthless beasts I have tested my magics upon have proven to be quite useful. It is as if their life force feeds me, makes me stronger with each being I destroy.
My potential grows with each passing day, but something is still missing. I curse the idiocy that afflicted me the day I left Blackthorn. Those scrolls would be of tremendous importance to me now, if only I could get to them! Perhaps a return to Blackthorn is necessary; the pathetic animals of the place would hardly pose any challenge to me now, and if those scrolls survived the fire they would certainly be worth whatever blood must be spilled to get to them. Perhaps they could aid with my recent enchanting endeavors; I have made strides in the field, but nothing truly significant has come of it yet. Maybe if I could determine how to store the life force of my foes in these stones, maybe then I could achieve something greater. But until then, I must continue to deal with the pathetic wanderers of Layonara. They sicken me, but I fear it is the only way I will ever complete my... well, let's just call them "experiments." Until then, my mental torture must continue; I cannot wait to be rid of these idiots.
Drakollith Blackthorn