Description

Personality

Mannerisms: -Neutral, Calm
-Always searching (Whether it be for a teacher, or an opponent for swordplay. He always gives himself a purpose and it is always something he must search for.)
-Planning
Relationship skills: Fair
Habits: A ritual of doing a sand painting every morning, one grain at a time. (Will take approximately an hour, does before the sun rises, is not a large painting, usually only 50x50 grains.)
Hobbies: Plays the Baglama exceptionally well.
Favorite Sayings: “One grain at a time. Each falls into place.”
Speech patterns: Normal flow of words but when in argument usually takes a long time to find the right words to answer.
Style (Elegant, shabby etc.): Refined, Elegant, Never straight forward.
Educational Background: Well versed in many topics other than alchemy.

Intelligence Level: The Lowest dungeon of the Highest peak.
Any Mental Illnesses? Slight depression, otherwise no.
Character's short-term goals in life: Currently he is in search of what is out there beyond Indri’Enis.
Character's long-term goals in life: Finding a suitable wife….. but first, revenge would suit his needs
How does Character see himself/herself? A strong independent man, with little to lose but much to gain.
How does Character believe he/she is perceived by others? A noble who has had his life easy and everything handed to him on a silver plate.
How self-confident is the character? Very.
Does the character seem ruled by emotion or logic or some combination thereof? Emotions drive him but logic is always his guiding hand, an excellent example comes to mind of a horse drawn chariot. Emotions are his strong and powerful horse, while logic his Lexicon.
What would most embarrass this character? Any mistake is a big mistake in his opinion and as such is a man who treads lightly and rarely errors.

Strengths/Weaknesses:
Introvert or Extrovert? I would say in-between but that seems a bit of an easy way out, I suppose more Extrovert due to his hunger for adventure.
How does the character deal with anger? A physical lashing out, usually in private.
With sadness? A sand painting to ail his emotional wounds.
With conflict? Seeking resolution is best for one must not live without peace.
With change? Well, he is used to adapting.
With loss? Watching every grain of sand fall reminds him of the pain but also reminds him that it can lead to a greater picture.
What does the character want out of life? Knowledge. An understanding of Why, Who, Where, When, and How are always things he wants to know.
What would the character like to change in his/her life? The past.
What motivates this character? Depending on the day and action, A thirst for knowledge all the way to Revenge.
What frightens this character? Fire, Skull masks. Too many feathers.
What makes this character happy? Just about every actions he takes brings him happiness for that is the drive of all people is it not? Happiness. But beyond that, a good song, a friend or two, an equal mind to debate.
Is the character judgmental of others? Not often.
Is the character generous or stingy? Stingy for the most part.
Is the character generally polite or rude? Polite.

What are the character's spiritual beliefs? He does not believe in gods and if they do exist they are unworthy of his praise.
Is religion or spirituality a part of this character's life? No

Equipment

A sword that was his father’s, a Baglama (A type of guitar), A hefty purse, A jar of reddish-tan sand, A second much larger jar of sand that he doesn’t carry on a regular basis but will have it on the ship.

History

Socioeconomic Level (child): High
Socioeconomic Level (adult): High-Upper class.
Occupation: Wanderer/Noble
Income: He has stopped earning money, but has much saved.
Talents/Skills:
-Musical skills, and excellent guitar player and fine singer he is nearly his own band.
-Swordplay was taught to him as a child and he practices many times a week.
-Sand Painting this rare skill was developed in his clan and he hones it everyday.
Birth order: First son.
Parents: Mastrahmekamo and Hamiyet. Deceased.
Siblings: Sister- Hami. Deceased.
Biography [to present]:
Born to a small but wealthy clan of warriors and academics, he found many outlets in his life to get a hold of and cultivate into skills. The geographical location of their clan’s small town was on a small island neighboring a larger island with many clans and large towns of people. His island, Kucukada, was mostly ignored from the beginning of his life until he was around 14. Once a year for about 3 days a land bridge opens up between the two islands, allowing transportation easier since Kucukada was nearly void of Rocs. But on that day a couple of visitors came across to do some exploring around the village and inspect for ‘rare materials’. Within a few days many high academics came to examine a certain site a few hundred yards from his home. They discovered that there was a large deposit of Erythoril on the island.

Mastrame’s father, the leader of the clan, was reluctant to just let these people take it from them, so a deal was proposed and the clan became very wealthy as the Erythoril was being extracted.
-One year later-
The Erythoril deposit is now dried up, his village is wealthy but now has no visitors.
The land bride opens up again, Mastrame sits in his favorite chair watching as some people leave and come across the land bride, then a large mass appears on the land bridge, moving up and down slightly, after about 10 minutes the mass became clearer, and so did the screams. A large group of men and women on horseback were charging inland. He ran inside to tell his father, “PAPA!!” He screamed, his mother came to answer,” What do you need him for? He is heading across the land bridge for an errand..”. Mastrame fell to his knees, his mother confused looked outside, she gasped and immediately took him by the hand out the back door, told him to run straight at the old Erythoril deposit and then keep running until he found somewhere to hide…. And he did. He ran, and ran, until he reached the other side of his small island hours later. He fell to the sandy beach and began to cry, but he would not have much time to be sorrowful as he soon heard horse hooves falling closer onto him. But he realized that it was but on rider. One rider, he could kill one. He drew his short sword and faced the jungle and the sound of the horseman. Out burst the man who he will never forget. Atop a large black horse was a large man wearing a skull mask with many roc feathers sprouting out. The man dismounted,” Sheathe your sword… it will do you no good.” He said. Mastrame lunged, the man sidestepped, slapping him on the wrist disarming him then tripping him with his right foot. The man jumped on top of him and tied him up then gave him one good punch, he blacked out.

Mastrame woke up a day and a half later. A small fire was burning nearby and a metal rod was sticking into it. He began to struggle with his bindings attempting to escape, but to no avail. Then footsteps approaching, the man with the mask bent down over the fire, examining. Then looked at Mastrame, as he grabbed the end of the metal rod, “You will remember this, you will tell of this day. You are the last of your clan. I’m sorry.” And with that he grabbed Mastrame’s hand and thrust the brand upon it. Forming his L shape. He blacked out.

When next he awakes there is no fire, no sound, no bindings, no man, just silence. He begins a slow walk to the other side of the island. Everyone, dead. He’s shaking now, unable to even control his own movements, he knows where he’s going. He passes by friends, teachers, relatives. First he looks in his house. Nothing was stolen, not a thing, not a single valuable gem, coin, artifact. Nothing. He walked to the back porch, there he finds his mother, a short sword atop her sliced body. He falls to his knees, tears dripping down in a steady stream. He picks her up, her arms drooping he takes her out to his backyard and begins digging. After his first of many burials he heads towards the land bridge. It’s nearly faded away and there is but a thin stream of land left, he has maybe 3 hours before it goes away. He walks along seeing some familiar faces beginning to sink into the ocean. He reaches a ways in finds his father. Clenching a note and the hilt of his sword. A single arrow lays in his chest, right through the heart. He grabs the note, the tears begin to flow again, just normal things that different people of the clan needed to keep going on. He shoves the note in his pocket as the water is closing in on his father’s body. He grabs his father’s sword and sheathe, and puts it on his own waist, the sword hitting the ground. “Goodbye, father.” He says as the water connects across the land bridge and lifts his father’s body slowly out to sea. He walks back up to the village sets his father’s sword down in front of the main gate and begins. He begins the process of burying every member of his clan, the process takes around 7 days but he completes it. Without sleep.

The next 11 months and 3 weeks. He lives alone on the island with the dead bodies of his clansmen.
Eventually the land bridge opens and he collects his valuables and heads across, meeting not a single face going the opposite direction. When he reaches the bigger island he begins telling his tale to whoever he can, of the island of death, never forgetting the detail of the single surviving boy who buried them all.

With the money he has from selling an entire Erythoril deposit plus the valuable’s and currency of a small village he is able to do what he pleases. This trip to the stars, he will be a part of it. He is, Mastrame, The last one.