Name: Ranor (Formerly Bronwë)
Race: Zombie (formerly Forest Elf)
Age: 237 (109 At death)
Appearance: Clad in the vestiges of the life he once led, Ranor wears a traditional pathfinder's garb which consists of mixture of leather and cloth armours. The dark green cloak and hood that once was pristine now has become faded and worn, it's edges tattered and the jade colored leaf clasp now rusted. A scarf covers the lower half of his face allowing him to move through communities without too much commotion until they get too close or they remove his hood.
Much of his clothing is in a similar state of decay, from his brown tunic to his boots, one can observe various holes and self repaired seams.
Under these layers of clothing is a dry husk, Ranor's body is thin and hollow, his once fair skin has has become leathery and grey, once long blonde hair now faint and muted.
Ranor's face is gaunt and his eye socket's lie forever half open.
Job: Adventurer / Monster Hunter
Magic: Primarily uses Wood magic.
Weapon: Elvish Long bow: Made from blackened Yew, it still retains it's strength even after his death. Created from a branch off his forefather's tree. The quiver is tied to his belt rather than his back, allowing the cloak to hide it away.
Elvish short sword: A curved blade with an extended grip.
History: Bronwë was born in the forest of Yuëldin, a pathfider of the House Illinaar, tasked with the duty of patrolling the boarder and guiding those who became lost. He died an honorable death while protecting a caravan from raiders, he was unmarried, leaving only his brothers and sister an example of a pathfinder's honor. Buried with pride under his forefather's tree, that was meant to be the end of this tale.
Alas one hundred and eight-teen years later, Bronwë and select few others were awoken by cabal of necromancers, he felt no warmth of sunlight upon his thin hands nor the wind in his hair, with his soul tethered to world of the living he could see his once lush home corrupted by dark magics, many of his kinsmen both past and present now shambled before him, many mindlessly consuming those who had tried to defend their homes while others merely stood by uncaring to the panicked cries for help.
The forest had been twisted by the cabal's might, trees that once were tied to the greatest of houses now weeped, the soil seemed to have been upturned by the writhing of their roots. The pride of Illinaar now lay scatter and crushed.
In silence they moved through the ranks of the undead to the focal point of the dark magic, finding only the remnents of the cabal remaining. These necromancer's were careless and inept it seemed, they had summoned too many without enforcing their will upon them and now with cold fury they would be slain. In a volly of arrows their lives were ended but the undead still shambled mindless through the trees.
Yuëldin was in ruins and there was no hope returning their kin to nature's embrace peacefully, Brownë and the remaining free-willed undead tasked themselves with regaining the honor of House Illinaar by mercy killing their own, from farmers to kings long past each was put to the blade and burnt along with the centuries old forest.
With their former lives now burnt away, the remaining shadow's of House Illinaar branded themselves as 'Kinslayers' in memory of the grisly work that had to be done. The title would forever remind them of their goal in hopes they do not lose their remaining honor and sanity. Taking up the name Ranor, it was decided that they would hunt down the remaining members of the Cabal.
For ten years they have been committed to their hunt, over time some succumbed to their curse and had to be cleansed. Over the course of those years their number so few now that each hunts alone but each still holds the hope that they may yet succeed and gain retribution.
Users browsing this forum: Scrambles and 2 guests