Post by Mu'Steic(I) on Feb 18, 2008 16:10:35 GMT -5
Name: Mu'Steic
Age: 26
Race: unknown for now
Appearance:
He once over heard one of the young women who helps with the cleaning of the house describing him as a “tall handsome man with a scarred face but quiet distant blue eyes that seemed out of place for one so young, and a light smirk that never left always there as if sharing a joke only he would know, shoulders strong from hard disciplined training and labored work, legs like tree trunks, and a back side distractingly pleasing to the eyes of all the ladies, and a carelessness of his exotic beauty, to be at once a beauty to rival a prince of Terre D’Ange but be a true D’Angeline”.
History:
His name is Mu'Steic and his earliest memories were of being lost in a terrible storm. For all the rest of his life he will never forget the Storm of Violence which changed his life. Of that journey he remembers only the hunger and the anger of which people accorded him for he was a stranger in a foreign land, but in his heart he knew no hate only love. After several long months of begging in the streets, running stealing fighting violently to survive a lone man in gray with beautifully wrought daggers smiled at him and changed his life once more and for the last or so it seemed. It is odd how vividly people remember those greatest events with a clarity as though these great events had just happened. Those were his thoughts before he went to see the Prefect of the Casseline brotherhood.
He had been there for 10 years enjoying a good life albeit an isolated on as no one really welcomed him as a friend. He had been learning and training as a Casseline in the hopes of one day serving as great Cassel did and living by the honor and values he had learned. Three years ago today he had hoped to see the Prefect to learn if he would be assigned as a companion, and to have a chance to strive towards being the perfect companion.
Three years ago his life changed once more, and he learned a hard truth, there was no place for him in the life he had been adopted into. He knew his his heart he would never be considered a true part of the brotherhood, for whatever he was, he was different as he was always better than his fellow brothers in both learning and in training. He was the youngest ever to best both the weapons master and the unarmed master in single and paired combat.
He had excelled at his studies and was thought of highly by all his instructors but he was still outcast by all his brothers no matter that he never did anything to spark thier ire except to look different and best his fellow brothers in studies and in the practice field. He once saw himself in the mirror and saw the blue marks upon his shoulders outlined but always seeming incomplete, and when he asked, his teachers said to wait and the prefect will explain.
Three years ago today he was expelled from the only family he had known because he was not like everyone else, and he had no idea who or what he was. He was told to be proud of his training and the Prefect did not want what was supposed to happen but had no choice in the matter, Mu'Steic was not allowed to take the final vows to become a true Casseline companion and with that he was also told to undo the club of his dark brown hair, for only true Casselines are allowed to wear the club hair style, and in a moment of true rebellion at being cast out he shaved his hair to a short crop. There are rules to such which the Prefect could not abandon.
Since then he has traveled any where he could find work for he had to survive but atleast this time he was prepared to fight for his basic survival. He had been hiring on as a caravan guard continuing to learn what he could of who he was to be able to find his place, his purpose but for every caravan he was never welcomed always called a barbarian respected for his prowace in combat but shunned for his unknown heritage. Though he had the grace and mannerisms of a D’Angline he would never be one.
Here on the docks he sits staring at his hard calloused hands wondering what his place was and how he might make a true name for himself, to find where he belonged, to be what he was trained for. Today he hired out a ships hand to make his way across the straits see what lies beyond is first fear. Today he is afraid, for he will have to face the sea which will change his life forever. Tomorrow he leaves for Eirie.
Age: 26
Race: unknown for now
Appearance:
He once over heard one of the young women who helps with the cleaning of the house describing him as a “tall handsome man with a scarred face but quiet distant blue eyes that seemed out of place for one so young, and a light smirk that never left always there as if sharing a joke only he would know, shoulders strong from hard disciplined training and labored work, legs like tree trunks, and a back side distractingly pleasing to the eyes of all the ladies, and a carelessness of his exotic beauty, to be at once a beauty to rival a prince of Terre D’Ange but be a true D’Angeline”.
History:
His name is Mu'Steic and his earliest memories were of being lost in a terrible storm. For all the rest of his life he will never forget the Storm of Violence which changed his life. Of that journey he remembers only the hunger and the anger of which people accorded him for he was a stranger in a foreign land, but in his heart he knew no hate only love. After several long months of begging in the streets, running stealing fighting violently to survive a lone man in gray with beautifully wrought daggers smiled at him and changed his life once more and for the last or so it seemed. It is odd how vividly people remember those greatest events with a clarity as though these great events had just happened. Those were his thoughts before he went to see the Prefect of the Casseline brotherhood.
He had been there for 10 years enjoying a good life albeit an isolated on as no one really welcomed him as a friend. He had been learning and training as a Casseline in the hopes of one day serving as great Cassel did and living by the honor and values he had learned. Three years ago today he had hoped to see the Prefect to learn if he would be assigned as a companion, and to have a chance to strive towards being the perfect companion.
Three years ago his life changed once more, and he learned a hard truth, there was no place for him in the life he had been adopted into. He knew his his heart he would never be considered a true part of the brotherhood, for whatever he was, he was different as he was always better than his fellow brothers in both learning and in training. He was the youngest ever to best both the weapons master and the unarmed master in single and paired combat.
He had excelled at his studies and was thought of highly by all his instructors but he was still outcast by all his brothers no matter that he never did anything to spark thier ire except to look different and best his fellow brothers in studies and in the practice field. He once saw himself in the mirror and saw the blue marks upon his shoulders outlined but always seeming incomplete, and when he asked, his teachers said to wait and the prefect will explain.
Three years ago today he was expelled from the only family he had known because he was not like everyone else, and he had no idea who or what he was. He was told to be proud of his training and the Prefect did not want what was supposed to happen but had no choice in the matter, Mu'Steic was not allowed to take the final vows to become a true Casseline companion and with that he was also told to undo the club of his dark brown hair, for only true Casselines are allowed to wear the club hair style, and in a moment of true rebellion at being cast out he shaved his hair to a short crop. There are rules to such which the Prefect could not abandon.
Since then he has traveled any where he could find work for he had to survive but atleast this time he was prepared to fight for his basic survival. He had been hiring on as a caravan guard continuing to learn what he could of who he was to be able to find his place, his purpose but for every caravan he was never welcomed always called a barbarian respected for his prowace in combat but shunned for his unknown heritage. Though he had the grace and mannerisms of a D’Angline he would never be one.
Here on the docks he sits staring at his hard calloused hands wondering what his place was and how he might make a true name for himself, to find where he belonged, to be what he was trained for. Today he hired out a ships hand to make his way across the straits see what lies beyond is first fear. Today he is afraid, for he will have to face the sea which will change his life forever. Tomorrow he leaves for Eirie.