Valen Runestrider

[Aarsyn]

1369 DR​

You see before you a man, taller and of lighter complexion than some of his human kind; hoarding the balanced expression of an inexperienced youth upon his fair face - the almost timeless eagerness for adventure. Lengthy strands of hair blacker than soot flank his starry blue eyes, trickling all the way down to the fur perching on his shoulders before coming to a polite pause and settling, as if content on nature's shoulders.​

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It is clear to your sight that he is geared for light travel; for he wears a leaf-green attire of cloth and a leather vest of the same colour, held together by several metal buckles all the way down to a belt that houses only a few pouches. Around his waist descends a half-skirt with a free-flowing pattern on each side, joining just below the knee a pair of fresh, durable boots of leather that stand ready to tread many lands with its wearer.​

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To this end, his armaments amount to an oak-brown longbow and quiver on his back and a rather unimpressive, long dulled knife that is sheathed on his mightily packed belt. For indeed, in its several pouches are held the many necessities of a hunter, along with a poor, cloth-bound journal. One in the front, however, seems to be padded in a rather bulky fashion. It is shielding what is, at times, revealed to be an elegant ocarina of wood, crafted most likely by Elvish hands, bearing in four different texts - some of which the People might know, but which are otherwise entirely unknown to Valen - the following runes:​

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•​

"Over Moon's silver haze,
Among Oak's wise embrace,
Beneath where Land doth rise,
Therein Jollity thou shalt find."​

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•​

 

[Aarsyn]

1370 DR​

Over the quiet months and into the present, the man has now mostly outgrown his leaf-green attire of old. In its stead, he has adopted two – one for the warmer seasons: a tan-brown shirt and pair of pants, over which is set a simple, brown and dark-green leather vest, to which an olive green hip-quiver with some yellow embroideries is fastened. No longer does he wield a dull knife, having exchanged it for a long and sharp iron sword; his boots are darker and sturdier. At times, he wears dark-leather gloves and vambraces – having yet to master his archery – and a large green cloak shields him overall. For colder seasons, he wears a much sturdier, lamellar cuirass and tasset with brigandine spaulders and a padded shirt and pants underneath, all warmed further by a brown-fur cloak. At night, he also wears a mask of bark to compliment the outfit’s camouflage pattern. ​

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A staple of both, aside from the dark-green mask, is his increasingly cascading hair and growing stubble which he began to fashion around his mustache and chin. Furthermore, he is now accompanied by a mighty – albeit yet to be named – raven, who scouts through blizzard and thunderstorm alike, and viciously disorientates his friend’s foes before returning to his shoulders as a sentry of vigilance, poising an immensely curious gaze towards all. The majestic animal loves a great many berries, and is certainly not afraid to peck away at the Weald’s gigantic insects, either. ​

 

[Aarsyn]

NELIN’S BIRD
The old raven of his late father, the creature now flies with the son it had grown up alongside. Even in its advanced age, it is mighty among its kind; for it bears great, sharp claws and a fearlessness to rend any foe. Yet it flies with vast, regal wings that spread proudly and soar through the air, oft gliding into battle in leadership, leaving the young Runestrider slacking for pace. Black and dazzling dark blues are its cloak of feathers, with hints of deep purple, blending into the night. Sharply intruding on its beauty, a long scar – almost across the bird’s whole front body – extends; saved only by the will of nature and the timely intervention of its handler. This does little to deter the avian from displaying it without care as a curious, jovial tilt of its head signals a friendly, appraising look to all worthy of it. On extremely rare occasions, it may even repeat certain words in a surprisingly pleasant voice. There is the capability for coarse caws and shrieks with that furiously pecking beak, however… So long as it hasn’t had its share of treats, of course. ​