Moridin
September 10th, 2003, 12:46 AM
Appearance
Full name: Moridin Serandin Xendrax
Gender: Male
Age: 2743 (looks to be 27)
Eyes: Deep green; would shame the most beautiful of emeralds. They tell of an exuberant vivacity shown by a constant twinkling, as well as a deep and profound compilation of intelligence, wisdom, and knowledge gained through over two and a half millenia
Hair: Pure silver, runs to his waist, seems to radiate light in the night
Facial Features: No facial hair, scar running from above his left eye to his right cheek. It was given to him by Xu. It could be healed but he decides to keep it as a momento of their first meeting.
Height: 6' 1"
Weight: 163 pounds
Physical build: Moridin is tall and lithe. However, his appearance disguises his inner strength.
Despite the harsh, preemptive winds which speed across the Analerian highlands proceeding the storm front moving rapidly across the horizon toward its location, the black cloak hangs tauntingly still against its owner's back. The cloak, darker even the distant storm clouds, bares but two significant features, the first being the elaborate hand-stitched silver embroidery done by none other than its bearer. The second, and more predominate, is the way in which it seems to drink in the light about it, as though it thirsted for the life of the world. The very air about the cloak seemed distorted, twisting one's eyesight when they tried to lock their gaze upon it. The fabric bore no hood, allowing all to see the proudly held head. Moridin wears a pair of silver-trimmed black boots which whisper lightly upon the grass as he moves. No armor clads his form. Instead, he bears trousers and a tunic of blue and silver trim, which fall loosely around the tanned skin of his toned legs and arms. Smoother than silk and just as thin, they are of a durable and nearly priceless material named silksheen. A single white rose rests in the pocket of his tunic, his trademark. Moridin's face holds an inherent prominence, the legacy of his father. The depth and purity of the green orbs of his eyes would shame any emerald. The vivacity shown in those eyes hint at the playful nature with which their bearer approaches life. The ever-present twinkling they offer seems to suggest a life of their own; a stark contrast to the nature of his cloak. The firm set of his mouth seems to somehow express both a fierce determination and a carefree nature. The warrior's head, for warrior his defiant stance proclaims him, is crowned by a long mane of silver hair down to his waist. The half-hidden moon glistens off his hair and it seems to shimmer like a beacon in the night sky.
Childhood
Moridin was born in the far west reaches of the Durani Empire, present-day Esgorath. He was the first of thirteen children, seven of whom were boys. He was also the first in line to inherit his father's position as King of the Durani. Born gifted to the powers of darkness in a Nation of the Light, Moridin was both feared and respected as he grew. Whilst growing up, several attempts were made to train Moridin in the magicks of Light. All failed however and Moridin's parents gave up on him. He was trained in the use of a variety of weapons, however his dark powers seemes to draw him to weapons in particular. These were the black lorken staff and masamune. Moridin's other studies included strategy, politics, and leadership of troops.
When Moridin was 8, a Sorceror of the dark arts came to Durania. The Sorceror was fleeing from the latest war and had nowhere to go. As such, Moridin's father hired the Sorceror to instruct Moridin. By the age of 13, Moridin was stronger in the Dark magicks than his siblings were in their Light magicks.
The Black King......Or Not?
Three years later, Moridin's coronation was scheduled to occur on his 16th name-day. When presented with the crown, to the amazement of all, Moridin refused knowing the Nation of Light would always resent the rule of a Dark King. Instead, Moridin became Commander of the Durani Imperial Forces. Moridin remained undefeated in his six years as Commander, before retiring to form the Black Temple. Moridin took in and trained those who were born gifted to the Dark magicks as he was. The Black Temple stood unchallenged for five years until the Imperial Court forced Moridin's father to disband the Temple. Not willing to bring conflict to the nation, Moridin reluctantly acquiesced.
And Darkness Shall Depart
Upon the closing of the Temple, Moridin finally became frustrated and decided to leave Durania. Moridin went before the Imperial Court four times to protest the closing of the Temple. Each time his plea fell on deaf ears. As such, he bid farewell to his family and former students. His father gave him command of a dozen men to take with him, as a parting gift. Gathering up his belongings, he left to find his fortune elsewhere. And thus did Moridin depart from Durani, City of Light. Now, following the word of his second-in-command, Moridin heads southwest, and to the Cavern of Souls.
Another Form of Darkness
Speaking of the Horn of Berantur, Benedict lead Moridin deep into the depths of the Caverns. They were beset there by a pack of wolfhounds. Just as Moridin was withdrawing his blade from the last of the beasts, he felt the sting of cold steel in his spine as Benedict plunged his broadsword into Moridin's back. In his death reflexes, Moridin managed to behead Benedict in a desperation strike. However, blackness took him then as consciousness faded from his grasp.
A Second Chance
A time later, Moridin awoke in a bedroll near the Trenshad River. A silver raven sat upon a log next to him, its head cocked to the side, regarding him. A sack of travel supplies sat at his feet, a note pinnioned to the side. It read:
"Fare thee well, Brother Moridin. His name is Mirandiril. He will serve you well. Remember that even for those who follow the shadowed path, there is a beacon of light to help you. My aid will always be available should you need it. We will meet again. I know it.
Your Ally and Brother, Gerard"
Moridin read the note a second time, committing its words to memory. Moridin whispered a silent prayer to his brother before gathering his things and leaving, Mirandiril perched upon his shoulder.
Still more to come.......
Full name: Moridin Serandin Xendrax
Gender: Male
Age: 2743 (looks to be 27)
Eyes: Deep green; would shame the most beautiful of emeralds. They tell of an exuberant vivacity shown by a constant twinkling, as well as a deep and profound compilation of intelligence, wisdom, and knowledge gained through over two and a half millenia
Hair: Pure silver, runs to his waist, seems to radiate light in the night
Facial Features: No facial hair, scar running from above his left eye to his right cheek. It was given to him by Xu. It could be healed but he decides to keep it as a momento of their first meeting.
Height: 6' 1"
Weight: 163 pounds
Physical build: Moridin is tall and lithe. However, his appearance disguises his inner strength.
Despite the harsh, preemptive winds which speed across the Analerian highlands proceeding the storm front moving rapidly across the horizon toward its location, the black cloak hangs tauntingly still against its owner's back. The cloak, darker even the distant storm clouds, bares but two significant features, the first being the elaborate hand-stitched silver embroidery done by none other than its bearer. The second, and more predominate, is the way in which it seems to drink in the light about it, as though it thirsted for the life of the world. The very air about the cloak seemed distorted, twisting one's eyesight when they tried to lock their gaze upon it. The fabric bore no hood, allowing all to see the proudly held head. Moridin wears a pair of silver-trimmed black boots which whisper lightly upon the grass as he moves. No armor clads his form. Instead, he bears trousers and a tunic of blue and silver trim, which fall loosely around the tanned skin of his toned legs and arms. Smoother than silk and just as thin, they are of a durable and nearly priceless material named silksheen. A single white rose rests in the pocket of his tunic, his trademark. Moridin's face holds an inherent prominence, the legacy of his father. The depth and purity of the green orbs of his eyes would shame any emerald. The vivacity shown in those eyes hint at the playful nature with which their bearer approaches life. The ever-present twinkling they offer seems to suggest a life of their own; a stark contrast to the nature of his cloak. The firm set of his mouth seems to somehow express both a fierce determination and a carefree nature. The warrior's head, for warrior his defiant stance proclaims him, is crowned by a long mane of silver hair down to his waist. The half-hidden moon glistens off his hair and it seems to shimmer like a beacon in the night sky.
Childhood
Moridin was born in the far west reaches of the Durani Empire, present-day Esgorath. He was the first of thirteen children, seven of whom were boys. He was also the first in line to inherit his father's position as King of the Durani. Born gifted to the powers of darkness in a Nation of the Light, Moridin was both feared and respected as he grew. Whilst growing up, several attempts were made to train Moridin in the magicks of Light. All failed however and Moridin's parents gave up on him. He was trained in the use of a variety of weapons, however his dark powers seemes to draw him to weapons in particular. These were the black lorken staff and masamune. Moridin's other studies included strategy, politics, and leadership of troops.
When Moridin was 8, a Sorceror of the dark arts came to Durania. The Sorceror was fleeing from the latest war and had nowhere to go. As such, Moridin's father hired the Sorceror to instruct Moridin. By the age of 13, Moridin was stronger in the Dark magicks than his siblings were in their Light magicks.
The Black King......Or Not?
Three years later, Moridin's coronation was scheduled to occur on his 16th name-day. When presented with the crown, to the amazement of all, Moridin refused knowing the Nation of Light would always resent the rule of a Dark King. Instead, Moridin became Commander of the Durani Imperial Forces. Moridin remained undefeated in his six years as Commander, before retiring to form the Black Temple. Moridin took in and trained those who were born gifted to the Dark magicks as he was. The Black Temple stood unchallenged for five years until the Imperial Court forced Moridin's father to disband the Temple. Not willing to bring conflict to the nation, Moridin reluctantly acquiesced.
And Darkness Shall Depart
Upon the closing of the Temple, Moridin finally became frustrated and decided to leave Durania. Moridin went before the Imperial Court four times to protest the closing of the Temple. Each time his plea fell on deaf ears. As such, he bid farewell to his family and former students. His father gave him command of a dozen men to take with him, as a parting gift. Gathering up his belongings, he left to find his fortune elsewhere. And thus did Moridin depart from Durani, City of Light. Now, following the word of his second-in-command, Moridin heads southwest, and to the Cavern of Souls.
Another Form of Darkness
Speaking of the Horn of Berantur, Benedict lead Moridin deep into the depths of the Caverns. They were beset there by a pack of wolfhounds. Just as Moridin was withdrawing his blade from the last of the beasts, he felt the sting of cold steel in his spine as Benedict plunged his broadsword into Moridin's back. In his death reflexes, Moridin managed to behead Benedict in a desperation strike. However, blackness took him then as consciousness faded from his grasp.
A Second Chance
A time later, Moridin awoke in a bedroll near the Trenshad River. A silver raven sat upon a log next to him, its head cocked to the side, regarding him. A sack of travel supplies sat at his feet, a note pinnioned to the side. It read:
"Fare thee well, Brother Moridin. His name is Mirandiril. He will serve you well. Remember that even for those who follow the shadowed path, there is a beacon of light to help you. My aid will always be available should you need it. We will meet again. I know it.
Your Ally and Brother, Gerard"
Moridin read the note a second time, committing its words to memory. Moridin whispered a silent prayer to his brother before gathering his things and leaving, Mirandiril perched upon his shoulder.
Still more to come.......