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Name: Jarél
Height: 6ft 2"
Weight: 11 stone
Background story: After another hard day working at the hospital for his university course, Darklight had gotten home to find Arekku messaging him about something on the forum, some new game thing they were discussing. “Alright, alright.” He replied. He’d have a look after dinner when he had everything ready for the next day, so he could relax properly. Arekku got way too into things sometimes...
Well, this doesn’t look too bad... He thought to himself while he skimmed through the posts as he lay on the bed. He began to write a reply, when the long day finally caught up with him and he nodded off.
Jarél: From a young age, Jarél was unhappy with the prospects offered him in the tiny village he was raised in. It was no secret that he had not been born to his parents there. He had been desperately given to them by an elf dying of old age, ancient beyond human comprehension, who had with his dying breaths told them he was the last of the Eldarin, the ancestors to the Elves. He had survived because of a pact his family had made with dark powers in a past age of the world.
Never having felt as if he belonged, despite his adoptive parents love, Jarél felt he was made for bigger things. He had a burning ambition inside of him, as well as something darker, the source of his dark urges and rages. So, one day, when word reached the village of a caravan of gypsies that had stopped to rest nearby, he had packed up his few belongings and headed off to join them.
What he had found had not been what he had expected. These were not the sort of gypsies that danced around and performed for small change, and nor were they petty thieves. They were a group that travelled the world of Moresia with their secrets and knowledge. He had learnt their secrets quickly as well as a solid foundation in all schools of magic and combat skills with twin knives and the quarterstave and the ability to move undetected in both the wilds and cities of the world.
Two years after he joined the caravan, they were again near his home village. He visited for the evening, but when he returned to the caravan it was to see a scene of carnage as orcs swarmed over it, killing all of them and defiling everything. Knowing what he had to do, he stole in and secured their greatest treasure before disappearing into the night to plot his revenge, the darkness within him spawning a dark rage that would grow to consume him and dictate his every action for years to come.
The next three years he spent travelling Moresia alone, finding the masters of magic, combat and scouting of the world and learning all they coud teach him, as well as the great sages to learn of the Prophecies and the towns and cities of the world to gather word of what was happening to the world.
When he discovered the self-named “World King’s” plans, he attempted to sneak into his stronghold and find out more, but a dark wizard of immense power broke through his spells of illusion and revealed him to the enemy, before setting dark horrors after him to chase him and kill him. As he ran for his life, he swore that we would never again would he rely so heavily on his magic when so much was at stake.
The Game: He was running... Why was he running? The details seemed hazy at the moment, but he knew it was vitally important he didn’t stop. He was being chased. He could hear them behind him, slowly gaining. He stumbled slightly as he took conscious control of his body. He was in dense forest, ducking between trees, ducking branches and jumping roots with far greater agility than he would have thought himself capable. But hadn’t he been running through forests like this since he was tiny? The memories were conflicted in his head, almost like he could remember two lifetimes leading up to this point...
He pulled himself together and pulled himself short of falling to the floor, before picking up the pace.
He couldn’t let them catch him, or he would be worse than dead.
Height: 6ft 2"
Weight: 11 stone
Background story: After another hard day working at the hospital for his university course, Darklight had gotten home to find Arekku messaging him about something on the forum, some new game thing they were discussing. “Alright, alright.” He replied. He’d have a look after dinner when he had everything ready for the next day, so he could relax properly. Arekku got way too into things sometimes...
Well, this doesn’t look too bad... He thought to himself while he skimmed through the posts as he lay on the bed. He began to write a reply, when the long day finally caught up with him and he nodded off.
Jarél: From a young age, Jarél was unhappy with the prospects offered him in the tiny village he was raised in. It was no secret that he had not been born to his parents there. He had been desperately given to them by an elf dying of old age, ancient beyond human comprehension, who had with his dying breaths told them he was the last of the Eldarin, the ancestors to the Elves. He had survived because of a pact his family had made with dark powers in a past age of the world.
Never having felt as if he belonged, despite his adoptive parents love, Jarél felt he was made for bigger things. He had a burning ambition inside of him, as well as something darker, the source of his dark urges and rages. So, one day, when word reached the village of a caravan of gypsies that had stopped to rest nearby, he had packed up his few belongings and headed off to join them.
What he had found had not been what he had expected. These were not the sort of gypsies that danced around and performed for small change, and nor were they petty thieves. They were a group that travelled the world of Moresia with their secrets and knowledge. He had learnt their secrets quickly as well as a solid foundation in all schools of magic and combat skills with twin knives and the quarterstave and the ability to move undetected in both the wilds and cities of the world.
Two years after he joined the caravan, they were again near his home village. He visited for the evening, but when he returned to the caravan it was to see a scene of carnage as orcs swarmed over it, killing all of them and defiling everything. Knowing what he had to do, he stole in and secured their greatest treasure before disappearing into the night to plot his revenge, the darkness within him spawning a dark rage that would grow to consume him and dictate his every action for years to come.
The next three years he spent travelling Moresia alone, finding the masters of magic, combat and scouting of the world and learning all they coud teach him, as well as the great sages to learn of the Prophecies and the towns and cities of the world to gather word of what was happening to the world.
When he discovered the self-named “World King’s” plans, he attempted to sneak into his stronghold and find out more, but a dark wizard of immense power broke through his spells of illusion and revealed him to the enemy, before setting dark horrors after him to chase him and kill him. As he ran for his life, he swore that we would never again would he rely so heavily on his magic when so much was at stake.
The Game: He was running... Why was he running? The details seemed hazy at the moment, but he knew it was vitally important he didn’t stop. He was being chased. He could hear them behind him, slowly gaining. He stumbled slightly as he took conscious control of his body. He was in dense forest, ducking between trees, ducking branches and jumping roots with far greater agility than he would have thought himself capable. But hadn’t he been running through forests like this since he was tiny? The memories were conflicted in his head, almost like he could remember two lifetimes leading up to this point...
He pulled himself together and pulled himself short of falling to the floor, before picking up the pace.
He couldn’t let them catch him, or he would be worse than dead.
