[Primae Pandora - Fanthrall Mures of the Nyfødthjem Wildlands]
█ █ ╫ A T T R I B U T E S ╫
--- STRENGTH
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- CONSTITUTION
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----- AGILITY
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- INTELLIGENCE
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- PERSUASION
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█ █ ╫ C O R E ╫
█ *NAME ▬ Fanthrall Mures
█ *AGE ▬ 29
█ *FACTION ▬ Independent from the Nyfødthjem Wildlands
█ NICKNAME ▬ Fawkes
█ *SEX ▬ Male
█ *SPECIES ▬ Presumed Chimera
█ ORIENTATION ▬ Pansexual
█ OCCUPATION ▬ Forager of the Nyfødthjem Wildlands
█ PARTNER(S) ▬ N/A
█ █ ╫ A F F E C T A T I O N ╫
█ HAIR ▬ Golden blond on top; tones of darker browns near the scalp
█ CLOTHING ▬ Fancies leathers - engraved and hardened leather vest over plain loose-fitted usually white shirt and leather patched (on knees and outer and inner thighs) trousers of similar usually plain clothing.
█ ACCESSORIES ▬ Rune-covered wooden bracelet
█ *HEIGHT ▬ 5'11'
█ *WEIGHT ▬ 182 lbs
█ EYES ▬ Rusty brown; often times with a reddish glint
█ BUILD ▬ Athletic, muscular
█ TATTOOS ▬ Multiple bright orange markings; starting from those visible on the image. Similar broad lines circle each arms over the biceps area. Thick singular line trailing down his spine.
█ SCARS ▬ Minimal at this point - the visible one is what was once a gash across his stomach, pale in comparison with the rest of his dark skin.
█ MARKINGS ▬ Handful of pale, average-looking birthmarks littered on his body.
█ █ ╫ A R C H E T Y P E ╫
█ LIKES
█ ▬ Crafting, mainly wooden
█ ▬ Entertainers
█ ▬ Roasted pine cones
█ ▬ Rings
█ ▬ Bugs
█ DISLIKES
█ ▬ Unintelligent folk
█ ▬ Fish
█ ▬ Anything flashy and noisy
█ ▬ Wolves
█ ▬ Captivity
█ PERSONALITY TRAITS
█ ▬ Fairly stable, has affinities towards twisted humor; can appear desensitized and awkward
█ ▬ Aspires for peace upon the Wildlands
█ ▬ Not the most talkative person to begin with. Prefers the dialects of the Wildlands but is capable of holding a somewhat choppy conversation, thick with Nyfødthjem fluttery accent with more or less anyone. In a common situation he speaks as though there is not a concern in a world, carefree and pleased. When countered delivers harsh coldly-spoken demands, and is more than willing to manipulate.
█ ▬ Prefers to listen and observe; usually delivers an adequate opinion that is honest and straight to the point. Tends to give anyone the chance for reasonable doubt and is willing to set his trust into them. When befriended, he tends to be an ally for life.
█ ▬ Similarly, when one is to break Fanthrall's trust, he becomes their enemy; eager to sell them out to whoever delivers the finest offer. Emotions can be surprisingly strong, albeit usually kept hidden deep beneath the skin to appear more distant and unavailable. Holds a grudge like no other and is prone to try and use anything against such people to toy with them-- at that point mainly for his personal glee not as much for punishment.
█ SKILLS & TALENTS
█ ▬ The Wildlands are not a place for weaklings-- if Fanthrall had been one, he would have been eaten, no doubt. Physically, he's average, strength laying in agility and speed should the need to fight arise.
█ ▬ Runic for Fanthrall is strong in the Kinetic sense and specializes in things he knows; mainly of the wood/nature kind. The one thing he is truly good at is projecting binding roots at his enemies and delaying them. His second true ability is the kinetic projection he refers to as "The Dance of Horns" - the assault of projecting thorns at his enemies. May not be particularly strong but it will sure as hell hurt.
█ ▬ Fanthrall's greatest talent lies in setting traps-- he is a physical creature and prefers to avoid confrontation and make do with what he has. Chances are that if he's gained access to a sufficient amount of items, he'll be able to craft something out of them.
█ ▬ Fanthrall's strength does not lie in physical abilities nor in trapping skills - his greatest ability is in persuasive Runics; often tied to illusions.
█ ▬ Fanthrall's weakest ability is hand-to-hand combat in which he would likely come out as the loser, nor does he hold any strength in archery nor remarkable skills in handling other weapons.
█ █ ╫ H I S T O R Y ╫
█ BACKGROUND
Born and bred into the land of barbarians, Fanthrall knew hardship from an early age. He was born into a tribe of the Southland in Nyfødthjem Wildlands, long since wiped out by rivaling clans of much more violent, cannibalistic tendencies. Fanthrall's was among the woods, the forest people much more capable of surviving than most, relying on what their terrain provided for them and little more. In the thick, nightmarish woods, they carried the light and warded themselves with Runic wisdom passed on by generations.
Rare and tame in comparison with the wilderness they resided in, the tribe in which Fanthrall spent his first decade with dimes became an easy target once located; their mistake for allowing the strangers the benefit of doubt.
Fanthrall was tutored at an early ages the prospects of the Wildlands and all he'd need to survive there - trapping skills, hunting, gathering, what not. At the age of tender ten, his tribe put their youth through a trial of survival, sending them out to deliver the hide of the first true beast encountered and Fanthrall returned, nearly gutted, cloaked in the skin of a barbarian he claimed the most horrid beast he could witness. Lucky for him, in a sense, considering that was but a scout that'd never returned to their own clan; unlucky in the sense he'd likely accidentally delivered chaos upon his own people years later. Unsurprisingly Fanthrall survived his wounds and gathered himself to learn under the masterful hand of the tribe's healer to master more of the Runic arts but never truly got far enough with it seeing as most he'd known ended up slaughtered in a massacre.
It is the tribe's healer's protective bracelet he carries with him still, an item capable of drawing from his own strength to provide him cloaking from true terrors but the poor thing hardly has any understanding of how to use it and if it does work; he won't take the blame for manipulating it.
Life moved on and with a few other survivors who'd eventually succumbed to the Wildlands, Fanthrall grew into a man and then, a forager. Not entirely what one would expect from the sound of foraging, of course. In the Wildlands, the rule of 'finders keepers' is a strong one. Looting corpses and other unfortunate passengers is a fair game, as long as one can make it back to their hideout with them. In addition, fangs, claws, hides and venoms from the dreadful critters traveling the Wildlands often earn fine prices in the black markets of Skaglands and he is not beneath dragging everything he can sell out there. Frankly, if he's not currently at his home in Southlands; hunting for more "treasure", that is where he is most likely to be found, trading and gathering what he can for another good year.
█ █ ╫ I N V E N T O R Y ╫
█ WEAPONS
█ ▬ Crooked dagger looted from barbarians; always on his person, often kept in a boot.
█ ▬ N/A (will add as he finds anything worth keeping or anything he can actually learn to use)
█ ▬ N/A
█ ITEMS
█ ▬ Wooden protective bracelet similar to this. Runes quite obviously differ.
█ ▬ N/A
█ ▬ N/A
F&R ▬ 25
Character Level ▬ 3
