“A latent spark can cause a raging fire, when properly cultivated. The most mundane soul can become an extraordinary, roaring, flame.”
[Song]
NAME: Ryn
AGE: 35
RACE: Elf, Khetaric
CULTURE: Order of Akhaten
GENDER: Male
PRONOUNS: He/Him
NICKNAMES: Ishin-Rahn, Ryn, Aisen
HEIGHT: 6’2
BUILD: Lean/Muscular
HAIR: White, and fairly chaotic. Long enough to cover his ears and frame his face, and cover the back of his neck.
EYES: Pale and dull blue, but with a spark of
FEATURES: With fair skin and pointed ears (usually hidden by his mess of hair), this elf seems to be free of blemishes…bar training scars upon his hands and burns that surround the edges of his eyes.
SEXUALITY: Straight
RELATIONSHIP: Single (Minglin’?)
DRESS: Usually dressed in the armor of the Order of Akhaten, but when casually dressed he can be found in black robes with a long overcoat. He is also always with a pair of gloves, and a simple metal circle that assists in keeping his hair held back.
OCCUPATION: Wandering Swordsman (Does not pay well)/Bartender (Pays a bit better)
CLASS: Bladesinger/Fighter
RELIGION: Eleishei
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TRAITS:
- Loyal
- Patient
- Quick Learner
- Charming
- Envious
- Possessive
- Haunted
- Never Satisfied
INTERESTS: Anything and everything extraordinary, magic, supernatural. Anything that breaks the norm of the mundane world.
HABITS:
- Staring. Ryn can blank out and just stare forward when lost in thought.
- Tugging on his gloves. No matter how tightly fitted his gloves, Ryn can often be seen tightening them.
- Tapping his fingers. Tapping his finger repeatedly on surfaces or his thigh.
ASPIRATIONS
- Ryn claws his way forward in an attempt to hold himself next to his lost friend Errant al-Din, the Ash’hadar. He holds no critic but himself, he holds no qualms of failure. His outlook on his time will allow him to further bring himself closer to those that wield mysterious and powerful arts. Ryn wants nothing more than to be extraordinary…however that definition can mean so many things. He holds to these thoughts, however, and only hopes he doesn't cross a line that sheds his morality along with his mundane shackles.
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HP: 16 | MS: 12 | AC: X | TOX: 8
STR: 2 | CON: -1 | AGI: 4 | INT: 1
- Dual Wield - Bonus Action (Requires 1 Agi)
- Attack with your off-hand weapon using a bonus action. Off-hand attacks do not benefit from strength damage modifiers.
- COOLDOWN: None
- REQUIRES: (Both Light melee weapons being wielded)
- Riposte - Reaction (Requires 3 Agi)
- After successfully mitigating an attack, counter with a swift strike using advantage.
- COOLDOWN: 5 Rounds
- REQUIRES: (Light or Medium melee weapons)
- Parry - [Reaction] (Requires 1 Str or Agi)
- An enhanced defense reaction roll, exposing your attacker. The melee attacker must roll with disadvantage when attacking you.
- COOLDOWN: 3 Rounds
- REQUIRES: (Light or Medium melee weapons)
- Dodge - [Passive] (Requires 1 Agi)
- Use agility to dodge incoming attacks, replacing constitution defensive rolling.
- COOLDOWN: None. Replaces defensive rolling.
- REQUIRES: (Any weapons)
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“We are the accumulation of our lives. We are the words upon the pages of our own stories. We are us, for better or worse.”
Early Life (0-12)
“The beauty of a new life can never be overstated. A child growing is like a form of magic in itself. The light in the eyes of a child as they view their world can be so…extraordinary. ”
Born as Aisen su-Win, the young elf would live a rather normal early life within the lands of Kabetsu, in the capital city of Tsurai-Ka. At this age, young Aisen did not have many aspirations, nor any true direction. His mother was a leatherworker, and his father a lumberjack. It was a quiet, if mundane existence. One thing, though, about Aisen, was his constant need to whisk himself away within his own Imagination. In the streets of Tsurai-Ka, alley cats became ferocious beasts of legend, boxes became mountains to overcome, alleyways became dark and twisted dungeons. Aisen could move forward with no fear, however, for the stick in his hand also became a faithful blade of supreme might, his clothes became runic armor that could take the strike of the most fierce foe. The waving of his hand became fire that engulfed hordes…with minimal sound effects. Yes, though mundane, Aisen at this age could think of nothing but how extraordinary the world could truly be..
Teens (13-18)“Strange, is it not? How the greatest of friends can be found in the most unlikely of places..”
- As a young man Aisen kept living a rather normal life, doing regular schooling, and learning slowly the trade of his parents for when he would eventually choose one to pursue…much to his dismay. Still, however, he also continued to explore the world in the hue of his wild imagination, he was a bit of a loner, but strangeness has an attractive quality itself. During this time Aisen made his first friend, the black sheep of the illustrious al-Din family. Errant al-Din, the young and wild child that seemed to be as curious about the world as Aisen himself. It was the start of a long friendship…that would lead Aisen into his first push from humble spark…to burning flame.
- Now, instead of alone, Aisen could roam the streets with a friend and discuss the magic of the world with a friend. It was Errant who convinced Aisen that maybe he could avoid the bleak and mundane future of becoming a leatherworker or lumberjack, akin to his parents. It was Errant who turned his gaze to the halls where honor could be earned…the halls of the Order of Akhaten..
- It was also Errant who helped Aisen bridge the gap in skill to actually stand a chance. Fighting stray cats with a stick only went so far…basic swordplay was a must. Aisen was hungry for more, and Errant was able to offer the plate, the feast, that was feint, parry, and strike. The dessert was footwork, spin, and block. The wine that was tactics and strategic thought. Aisen may not have started with the capacity to do well in these things…but he was an unstoppable force of consuming knowledge when he had something within his reach..during these training sessions Errant and Aisen cemented their friendship even more. It was a bond that would connect them for years to come…and a bond that would fray and pull at the seams later in their lives.
The Order of Akhaten (18-25)“The stairway of success always begins with the first step…no matter how many times one falls, they can always choose to repeat that step..step after step until they reach the top.”
- Though a shock to his parents, they supported Aisen when he declared his dream of joining the Order of Akhaten…the Celestial Mantle…striding through the halls of honor. Errant had already joined the order…but walked his friend to initiation…and were thrown into strenuous tests of skill, of swordplay, of hist and foot…as well as written tests that pushed Aisens knowledge to the limit..When they next stood with one another, Aisen…had to continue to carry the weight of his name. He had not done well enough…he was denied..
- A young man once named Errant attempted to console his friend, but instead of finding a defeated man, instead of a doused flame. A smile strained the edges of Aisen’s face. His eyes burned with desire, and declaration.. He was not done. The Keshiri kept his words to himself, when he saw that smile. It was familiar to him, it was a hungry smile. One that spoke of Aisen’s hunger for more, his will to devour what was needed to claw up the mountain of normality…
- With his acceptance into the halls of honor, Aisen could not train with his friend like he once could..but he now had the basics to continue himself. Every day passed in which the young man swung his blade, moved his feet, and danced his lonely dance.
- A year passed in quick order…and Aisen tried his hand once again at approaching the order. Another attempt to strain the chains that kept him cemented to a mundane world. Once again he failed…and he slumped to the floor, head down, clenched fists…this was not an unseen scenario in the halls of the order. The instructors noticed something about this failed candidate though. What was usually doused enthusiasm, and the stench of failure was giving way to the brilliance of a fire burning his eyes. A flame of ambition and a hungry smile..
- It was another year that passed, another year of clawing, learning, studying, practicing. A year of steps and swings. A year of books, and pen to paper. A year of daily runs and exercise. This year, his third attempt, he walked in with a firm resolve. A few instructors even recognized the man this go around, and kept a close eye on him.
- His performances was nothing too jarring, but it was consistent, a consistency that could only be acquired through a willingness to practice to master the basics and foundations of swordplay and footwork to a fine degree. His studies did not fall behind this time, what was once near impossible to work out came in quick strokes. His confidence when he stood awaiting his determination was evident but restrained. Then…finally his flaming resolve paid off..he achieved the rank of Keshiri. He had finally took his first step into the halls.
- His friend had worked just as hard as him, however, maybe even harder, and had achieved the rank of Sahkari…and earned the prestigious title of Ash’hadar. But now the two nameless friends were rejoined…though still a distance apart.
- The newly minted Order member did not become lazy with his accomplishment though, for he still had to catch up to his friend. So he woke up early everyday…only to find his friend had been there earlier still…he stayed late during training until his muscles ached and he could not swing another slash…and yet his friend stayed an hour over more…once again he could feel that feeling. That hunger…that targeted envious need to grow even stronger. A year passed, and he continued to slowly claw, to pull and strain the chains, to feed wood into the flame of his will. He attended to his duties of the Order…and continued to grind himself into a keenly honed blade.
- Another year passed and a man once named Aisen was finally trusted enough to be made an Adept…he proudly took on the rank of Sahkari…just as his friend was elevated to the rank of Ishin-Rahn..the friends continued to be separated, bonded by the fraying rope that untwisted slowly as their distance continued to show…but the one called Ash’hadar looked towards his friend. Maybe he was going to offer an apologetic smile. He stopped however, when he once again saw the hungry gaze of his friend glancing over at him. The spark in his eye was a promise of catching up…a promise to sit atop the precipice together.
- Two more years passed, and the two continued to work, to strive for greater things. The one once called Aisen rested against a wall, coated in sweat, his body strained as his friend expressed his desire to cross the sea…a years long journey to find some Azure Order. Ash’hadar offered his friend to join him, to journey together, continue to grow together.
- The Sahkari denied his friend, however, as his eyes blazed with an internal raging blaze. He expressed his desire to come with his friend…but told him he could not do so until they were of equal standing…until he too achieved the rank of Ishin-Rahn…until he too earned the right to carry a title…he could not follow. Once he could, though, he would reunite with his friend. They shared a rare embrace…as the one once named Aisen watched the one once named Errant take his bag…retrieve his name…and set sail..
The Birth of Ryn’thalar (26-34)“It was like watching flame fight flame, man versus nature…it was like a latent spark burst into a whirlwind of flame.."
- The first year his will remained a blazing flame as he continued to attend to his duties, continued to train, continued to learn..
- The second year he failed, for the first time, his attempt to rise to Ishin-Rahn…it was the first time they failed.
- His third year he performed well, focused on his lessons, his training, his missions…he still did not receive a title. He did, however, miss the sickness of his father…and missed his passing..
- His fourth year, his burning flame slowly lowered as he failed to rise to Ishin-Rahn once again. He was assured he was close…he learned fast, he was dedicated, he worked hard…but there was always next time.
- His fifth year he stopped staying so late on training…the wood of his flame cracked and sputtered…his willingness to swing his blade was slowly retreating…however he realized this and tried to feed the flame of ambition with everything he could…but his fingernails were tearing from trying to claw from the chains of his new mundane setting
- His sixth year was a much needed reprieve…a unique mission took much of his time and effort, it allowed a chance for him to settle his mind, take a brief step back from training so hard, and realign his priorities…he did think, though, how strong Errant may have become, how hard he was working…the sputtering flame gained a small resurgence.
- It was his seventh year, where he truly believed he would never advance…his mother passed, she was not sick like his father…instead she was tired…the absence of his father, and her staring at walls in an empty house…she wrote a letter to the Sahkari saying goodbye, and the flame of ambition sputtered out. Though he got along with his fellow Order members he was not close with them. He had no parents…and his friend was gone. The rope that tied him to his friend was strained to snapping…his flame was long burned out. He was haunted by the years of work, only to lose the few people close to him. For the first time in his life, he could not see the magic in the world, his imagination, like a lot of the things around him, was dying. He tried to shovel coals on the flame, tried to rewrap the rope…but slowly he became tired. He continued his work, but many of the people around him no longer saw the hungry look in his eyes…nor the smile that promised more.
- It was, finally, in his eighth year, when a different flame brought itself into his life. A flame of pain, a flame of destruction. He sat guarding a hallway with a neutral expression. He nodded to a Ishin-Rahn who was guarding a prince of Shori. They entered a room nearby and time passed. It was once that standing still would make the world around his eyes come alive…but now he saw only the normal, mundane, and mortal rooms as everyone else…so it came as a small shock to him when his view changed and the air began to dance lightly…it was then he learned that he smelled something off…smoke, and realized a grand fire was spreading through the royal halls.
- Though his own flame was gone, his training was true, and he was to the door in a moment, knocking on it to inform the prince and the Ishin-Rahn of the danger. Then, they were swiftly off the escape the dangerous area.
- Even with his quick action, however, he failed once again. By the time they were whisking the prince away the fire had built into a tempest of dancing destruction. They swiftly barreled down a hallway that was wreathed in the glow of flame…the roof collapsed onto the Ishin-Rahn, flaming beams crashing him to the ground. It took only a few moments of them both struggling to realize their was no time…the Ishin-Rahn ordered the Sahkari to leave with the prince.
- They were rounding a corner when another part of the wing they were in collapsed…and they found themselves trapped by debris on one side, and burning hot death on the other. Their only chance…a reinforced window…that refused to shatter as a man once named Aisen slammed his sword into it. The pommel of his blade crashed over, and over, his armored fist slammed over and over…he could feel the heat closing in…he could even see the orange glow on the other side of the window promising even more flames..
- How easy it would be, to give up, was a brief thought that flashed through his mind, until he slammed his fist into the window once again. How easy it would be to let it all end came swiftly after as a firmly gripped blade slammed hard…and a small crack appeared…the prince cheered as it seemed they were close to freedom.
- Alone with his thoughts as he beat his, for some reason, strongest opponent to date. A reinforced frame meant to protect the family it was now killing. His thoughts wandered. How was his friend? Errant al-Din had been gone 8 years. If he had stayed perhaps he may very well be leading the Order of Ahkaten..a brief smirk crossed his face as he thought of the one he looked up to…where was it he had gone? Elsar? It did not matter, he supposed…he was going to burn.
- He was tired of swinging his blade, and so both fists slammed into the window…the prince yelped as embers started to singe his skin. The reinforced frame of glass cracked once again..he begged the Sahkari to hurry.
- It was strange-the thought of giving up- after living so long with the idea of a magical replacement, of imagining his will as a literal burning desire. It was almost poetic, to burn, while his inner flame lay cold and lifeless.
- These thoughts accumulated into something though…a wild thought…a single spark landed on long cold wood.
- The prince saw his Sahkari quicken his punches, slam his armored elbow, shift his weight into a shoulder charge. A man once named Aisen quickened his pace, his mind, already recalled to his old friend, remembered hand-to-hand training, the many hours he had spent on techniques, careful strategy, and when and where to hit…he then promptly forgot all of that, and instead hit as hard and fast as possible as a slow…hungry smile spread across his face. It was a different kind of hunger this time, he was learning nothing- other than about the shocking sturdiness of this window- no…instead it was a wild and spiteful smile. A smile that pushed him to live and not die from something as silly as a fire, to not let the prince fall because he got the Sahkari who could never become Ishin-Rahn.
- A once cold and dead fire sparked…and a tiny flame came to life as he reared his head back and slammed it forward. His armors were numb from their strikes…so instead of stopping he used another part of his body…and finally the glass shattered.
- The Sahkari screamed in both pain and triumph, victory for he had finally broken the damn window…and pain because the flames on the other side suddenly had a new place to spread. That new place started directly in his face, though. Flames and embers snuck through the holes in his helm and singed the skin around his eyes. Pain, however, was not a problem for him. His training…his re-welcomed flame, pushed him forward. He turned, half-numb arms grabbing the prince, and he leapt through flames to the cobbles below..
- The Sahkari landed hard onto the ground and felt a few ribs give way, but the prince he was carrying got off with a few bruises and was quickly recovered by another, healthy, guard. Another grabbed the Sahkari and dragged him away…the Sahkari managed to shrug his helmet off as he was dragged and looked at the raging flame that continued to scour through the wing of the palace…
- A beautiful flame, he thought to himself, even though it almost killed him it reminded him of his old self. Hungry, devouring, quickly trying to become something far grander than how it started…something extraordinary. He missed that feeling in his chest, that feeling of want, need, and ambition…it was back now and he promised to feed it into a raging fire like the one before him once again…after he woke back up. He then promptly passed out.
- It was a few days later that he sat in front of the Okaru themselves and gave his report, his eyes were wrapped to help with his burns, as were his ribs and one arm that had been strained from his punches. The pain was easily ignored as he heard the words the Okaru spoke though.
- The prince he had helped seemed to speak of his crazed flurry…and had stated l;ike it was another fire fighting the one trying to burn them…it was like a latent spark had exploded to break them from their entrapment..
- So…the Okaru gave a man once named Aisen a new name. A title. Ryn’thalar, Latent Spark.
A New Beginning (34-Present)- Ryn’thalar was given a few weeks to recover before he was surprised once again. For his loyalty, bravery, and years of determination…he was officially elevated to the rank of Ishin-Rahn.
- He stayed a few additional months, for healing, as well as steadily feeding the flame of his will once again. However…his aims were different from normal Ishin-Rahn…for during the fire he had remembered something. His friend. Errant al-Din. Eight years ago he had promised to join him once he had attained a title as well as the rank of Ishin-Rahn, matching Errants own achievements in the Order, albeit far faster than Ryn’thalar, though.
- So, after he was healed, Ryn’thalar packed a bag and stood before his commanders, and requested leave from the order. It was granted…but when they offered him his name back, he bowed lowly. He accepted it, but told them his name was Ryn’thalar, or Ryn for ease. He would carry Aisen proudly but…truly Aisen su-Win was long dead along with his parents. Ryn’thalar…Ryn…took his bag and stepped foot onto a boat. His heading, Elsar, his goal, to reunite with Ash’hadar. He sighed…he was probably going to have even more catching up to do…sailors watched as a man garbed in the armor of the Order of Ahkaten kept his head held low…a few thought maybe he was saddened for some reason. Then a few jumped lightly in shock when they caught a better look at the man. There was no sadness in his eyes, and instead there was a wolfish hungry grin and a burning spark in his eyes.
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UNIQUE | POSITIVE | NEUTRAL | NEGATIVE
Errant al-Din [Mentor-Rival-Friend] | Though there was always an Aisen, there would never be a Ryn without Errant al-Din. If Ryn is a raging fire, Errant is the wind that fueled his growth by existing. Once separated by a long journey, and now many years apart, Ryn’s want to stand next to Errant has not faltered. Though Errant has likely continued his own hard work, Ryn does not falter, in fact he hopes Errant remains a mountain and goal for himself. The chains of normality continue to strain Ryn, and Errant is the key to releasing the binds. Now that Ryn feels he can actually stand on somewhat equal footing, he hopes to prove himself worthy of the honor of walking beside the legend of Ash’hadar.
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Blank…for now, on the hunt for the extraordinary.
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