Jet Set
INTRODUCTION
"Nameâs Illeren. Thatâs about it really...so we going to go fight things or what?"
"Because I can? Seriously, stop asking questions and lets get to it!"
[B A S I C S]
Nicknames: Ill, Maya, Clay
Gender: Male
Age: 45
Race: Elf
Origin:Kiloain (Kill-oh-ane), a small settlement near the edge of elven territory.
Voice: Illerenâs voice is light as one would expect of an elf, but with a surprisingly heavy accent that sometimes borders on the incomprehensible. Heâll slur words and abbreviate sentences that, for no other reason than because he wants to, donât need abbreviation. He makes use of words and swears that often times donât make sense or are rarely heard.
Class: Cavalier
Offensive/Defensive: Offensive
Magical Affinity: None
PHYSICALITY
[A P P E A R A N C E]
Hair: Silky white and short, rarely is it ever out of itâs constant bed look state. Despite the fact that he does indeed maintain it as far as washing it and making sure he doesnât look like some greased up sausage, he does nothing to make it presentable. As such, it often just floats around of itâs own free will.
Eyes: Gold
Complexion: Heavily tanned
Height: 5â7
Build: Lean but surprisingly muscular for an elf, more so than one would expect from his species.
Weight: 168 lbs
Body Markings: Illeren is an oddity in the fact that he doesnât have any markings on his face, nor does he don the mask of a Cavalier often if ever. He would rather chuck the thing into the river if he could, but something about it stays his hand. The rest of his body is a different matter, as tattoos concerning one thing cover nearly every inch of his body.
Swords.
Swords are everywhere on him. A massive two handed beast of a weapon with wings covers his entire back. Swords being gripped by a dragon and a snake on opposite arms, and his legs have a rotating chain blade on each leg with the blade itself ending on his shin. His right shin has the elvish word for life drawn onto the blade, while the other one has the elvish word for death. On his breast is a tattoo that makes it look like a dagger has been plunged into his heart, incredibly detailed to the point of making people do a double take upon first glance.
[D E S C R I P T I O N]
Illeren is a fairly easy person to describe from an objective viewpoint, but from an elven one, heâs practically a monster. He lacks most of the grace and airs that a lot of elves tend to put upon themselves, walking around like they own the world. Instead he carries himself with a rather rambunctious swagger that borders between arrogance and playfulness. His head is held high, if only to see above taller people around him, and his back is straight if only to make him appear bigger than he actually is. His armor is of elven make, meaning that the armor is generally lighter than it appears with more than enough durability to withstand a few blows. He refrains from a helmet, afraid that it would limit his view of the world around him, and instead sticks to his chest piece, gauntlets and leggings.
There's red cape that flows behind him at nearly all times of the day, a simple long piece of fabric that has been with him nearly as long as heâs been fighting. If thereâs a story to it, heâs not telling anyone. Underneath his armor, or when not preparing for battle, Illeren prefers the clothing of Humans to that of elves, liking the more casual nature of it. As such, he has several articles of clothing that are practically nothing more than rags with sutures. One could say that the only thing refined about Illeren would be his armor.
Illeren has also always been fascinated with swords, as his blade can quickly attest to that. Human made but of a quality usually not seen outside of their capital cities, it portrays its own personality of brutal efficiency in accordance with the species that made it. While not overly flashy or extravagant, Illeren believes the deadliness masked in its simplicity is a bigger feat than making a sword that curves and twists like a corkscrew.
In accordance with his fascination with swords, Illeren has plastered his body with them, yet denying another elven custom. Where his species often mark themselves with ink for feats or achievements, Illeren chooses to mark himself with what his favorite things.
MENTALITY
To say that Illeren is an odd elf would be a massive understatement. He doesnât seem to portray, or at the very least, does his best to contain anything that might prove he was an elf. If it werenât for his stature and pointy ears, one could easily mistake him for a human being, or even an orc if the same conditions were applied. Illeren can and will often be crude and overbearing at points, with an emphasis on his outspoken personality. If something needs to be said, he will say it regardless of who the person heâs saying it to is. Heâs quick with a smile, a frown, a snarl, and a laugh. In general, heâs someone who wears what heâs feeling on his sleeve, and should there come a time when heâs attempting to hide it, that is the moment you know something is extremely wrong.
Illeren has lived by a code, or a saying to be more exact for nearly the entirety of his life. âBecause I canâ. Heâs impulsive, often choosing to do things or not do things on a whim regardless of the consequences. Even his accent is of his own choosing, altering his voice because he could until he did it so often that it eventually became his natural speech. With that in mind, heâs done a little bit of everything in his relatively short life, from stealing and banditry, to saving damsels in distress and even taking part in a play. He has a personality that attempts to take the spotlight from other people through his outrageous behaviour all on its own, even though thatâs never his goal. When asked about himself, heâll often times shrug off the question stating the very obvious. Heâs an elf. Heâs a swordsman. He fights things. He has two eyes and white hair. Rarely will he ever talk about himself, instead diverting the conversation to another topic or simply dumping a bucket of sewage on one of his compatriots because he could.
Despite his practically immature attitude on life, Illeren does have a compassionate side in him. He doesnât like to see people suffer...much. Its true, he did resort to banditry for a small time, but he always made sure that the people he stole from walked away with their lives if he was given a choice. He fights because he likes to fight, not because he likes to kill things. Killing things is just an unfortunate side effect of a damn good fight, and one would be hard pressed to not find people or creatures out there that need to die. As such, heâll often stop to help people out if theyâre in a bind when it comes to swordplay or battle, but generally doesnât stop to give money to beggars. After all, he has his own problems to look out for as well.
[F E A R S]
-Heights: Now this you would not expect from an elf, right? After all, they live in the trees! In actuality, Illeren has lived most of his life on the ground, or close enough that a fall wouldnât kill him. As such, heâs developed a sense of vertigo when on high places and generally tries to avoid the ledges or looking down if heâs forced to go up.
-Headless chickens: There is a story here...an incredibly embarrassing one that he will never ever speak about to anyone ever...but there is one.
-The Watchers: He fears his own kind, or more specifically, the leaders of his own kind. He didnât exactly fit into the mold,and when he did leave it was without ceremony or warning, he simply took off. As such, heâs hesitant to even go back to elven territory, and avoids Rielorn like the plague itself.
[Q U I R K S]
- Illeren is incredibly impulsive, and much like a child, is hard to control when he has his blood pumping with excitement. This can lead to all manner of things, which in his experience can mean a couple of remarkable one night stands or being chased out of a town with pitchforks and torches.
- In case it hasnât been mentioned enough. Illeren really REALLY likes swords, and itâs one of the few things that can hold his attention for any length of time. While not a blacksmithy himself, he can recognize fine talent and craftsmanship from a glance alone, able to pick apart the blade with his eyes to spot the imperfections and subtle nuances of the craftsman.
- Yet another thing that sets him apart from his elven kin and closer to a human would be his love for steak. He generally enjoys all forms of meat, but steak is practically candy to him and heâs thankful that he doesnât have 24/7 access to it otherwise he would weigh several hundred pounds.
- Illeren has a nasty case of Kelptomania, often times grabbing things from nearby without even realizing he's done so, only to find them later on his person with no knowledge of how they got there. He doesn't do it out of malice, more an unconscious movement of his body with often times pleasant results.
[E T H I C | V A L U E S]
Illeren has a skewed version of morality in his mind. On one hand, heâs not above stealing from others to keep himself going. Heâll even go as far as to assault someone with something that he desperately needs, or conning people out of their hard earned coin if he believes he can get away with it. On the other hand, he doesnât like to see people physically suffer and will generally not kill anyone that he doesnât absolutely have to. Heâs not afraid of death or the act of ending a life, but he generally doesnât like the feeling that he gets afterwards. When he pulls off a successful robbery, or achieves an item that he really wanted through illegal means, he gets an adrenaline high. When that act is then followed or achieved through the act of mortal violence, that high never comes.
So long as you donât ask where he got some of the items that he has, or where his money is coming from, you could say that Illeren is a decent guy. Heâll hop in a fight with nary a breath to help someone getting beat down, but wonât offer money to a beggar. Heâll protect someone from a monster, but then leave them to get their own bloody wagon out of the mud. In the end, I guess you could say he helps people as far as his own adrenaline addicted self would like to.
[A G E N D A]
Saying that Illeren has an agenda is like saying a Chicken would like to become ruler of the all the realms. Illeren has, and always will be driven by his whims and desires. He doesnât have an overarching goal or some big plan in the works. He goes where he wants, when he wants because he wants to. In the end, he sees that as his ultimate goal, to be able to do whatever he wants for as long as he lives.
[L I K E S]
- Steaks. Disregard leaves, acquire beef.
- SWORDS! Thereâs still room on his chest for another tattoo of a sword, and who knows, maybe there will be another sword better than his that he can steal or buy.
- Adrenaline highs. Whether they be from fighting or stealing money right out from under someoneâs nose. However he can get it he will do so.
[D I S L I K E S]
- People who take themselves too seriously. The world is filled with creatures and species of all kinds going through life with a scowl and a frown. Live life as it was meant to be lived and enjoy what you have. If you donât enjoy what you have, steal what you need to make it so.
- Waiting around. Illeren is first and foremost a man of action. âWait and Seeâ is simply not a term heâs familiar with. He would rather charge head first into a situation and figure it out on the fly rather than plan every little detail of every waking minute. If you plan on doing that, keep an eye on Illeren so that he doesnât charge off without you.
- Chickens. Yes, this still ties to a rather embarrassing story. No, he will not tell you about it.
- Vegetables. More a mild dislike than a general hatred, if he has a choice between meatloaf or a salad, heâs choosing the meatloaf.
[Excellent] - â â â â â â
[Strong] - â â â â â â
[Competent] - â â â â ââ
[Average] - â â â âââ
[Poor] - â â ââââ
[Learning] - â âââââ
[Scrub] - ââââââ
You have a limit of 20 stars.
PROWESS
- Enhanced Senses: [Average] â â â âââ Despite his general frivolity concerning life, Illeren has been known to hear things from farther away, see things clearly from a sizable distance, or smell the slightest fragrance. He is by no means an elven bloodhound, but compared to his brethren and the other species, he is above them ever so slightly.
- Deft Hands: [Competent] â â â â ââ This applies to more than the obvious pick pocketing or lock picking. His swordsmanship also comes from his rather impressive hand control, able to spin, toss, and flip his blade with remarkable precision. Naturally, his skills in the thieving market arenât that bad either.
- Herbology: [Poor] â â ââââ Almost like a stereotype, nearly all elves are familiar with some sort of medicinal herbs and spices. Illeren has a very limited knowledge of this, able to create such things as to help with headaches or mild painkillers, but its rare that he can find the right ingredients and for the most part everything regarding this is a crapshoot. You would be better off finding a legitimate healer rather than relying on anything that Illeren can cook up.
[C L A S S | S K I L L S]
- Swordsmanship: [Excellent] â â â â â â Probably one of the biggest reasons Illeren has gotten away with living the life that he does. His ability with a blade is incredible, capable of going toe to toe with people who pride themselves on a life of military service. His partial Cavalier training, mixed with more than enough private trainers and general fights through the years have honed his ability with a single blade to be able to take care of himself.
- Athleticism: [Strong] â â â â â â Part training, part running for his life, and part luck, Illerenâs body is a finely honed machine capable of producing contortion worthy motions. It is not uncommon to see this swordsman flying through the air with a sideways flip, perform backwards somersaults, or any other possible move that you can think of. Heâs incorporated this ability into his fighting style, making him more than unpredictable on the battlefield. This also applies everywhere else as well, performing gymnastic moves when required to get into a building or steal an item.
[W E A K N E S S E S]
- Who needs a shield?: Illeren, while technically classified as a Cavalier, has abandoned the shield in its entirety, focusing instead on the single bladed approach and shoving all of his effort and energy into the offensive side of things. What this means is that while his offensive capabilities double, his defensive capabilities are extremely limited. He can hold his own against blades or other melee weapons where parrying is an option, but against extremely strong blows or ranged attacks, Illeren could be in serious trouble.
- Why wait when you can strike now!: Illeren has spent a great deal of time honing his combat technique, but he has yet to learn the discipline that comes with being a great warrior. In times when stepping back and surveying the situation might be a better course of action, Illeren will almost always push forward into the fray, throwing caution to the wind in favor of striking first. Obviously this can throw off group synergy when heâs essentially doing whatever he wants at the time.
- Like a Pillow: Illeren is an elven straight up fighter, and as such doesnât have the stature or the musculature needed to often hold his own in a battle of strength with his foes. While more than skilled enough to go toe to toe with most combatants, he must avoid a battle of strength at nearly all costs. Itâs relatively easy to push him away, off, or down should people get a good decent hit on him, and heâs the last person you want to act as a blockade, or to hold a choke point.
ARMAMENT
[A R M O R]
Illeren is typically more heavily armored due to his beginnings as a Cavalier, but compared to other species that isnât saying much. His armor is of an elven make, lightweight but surprisingly durable and more than capable of withstanding several direct blows from mid-weight weaponry. It is composed of a chest piece, gauntlets, one shoulder pauldron (The other one having been lost in a battle prior and never replaced), greaves and leggings. As is the norm with elven made weaponry and armor, they are fairly ornate and extravagant in their design, but allow for breathing room so to speak. As such, Illeren is able to retain most, if not all of his flexibility and speed while encased in the protective suit.
[C L O T H I N G]
Underneath his armor, Illeren typically wears light and unrestricting garments not at all assisting in the protection of his body. At that point, heâs more focused on mobility over defense, and as such the clothing often changes color but not shape. There is also the matter of the cape, which doesnât really have a purpose or story aside from the fact that Illeren really likes it. As such, itâs the only piece of apparel in his combat makeup that doesnât have a specific purpose or reason for being there.
Outside of his armor, Illeren isnât one for style or even really functionality, preferring comfort over all else. As such, his shirts and pants are little more than slightly extravagant burlap sacks. He doesnât scrimp on his shoes though, which are the most comfortable pieces of clothing he has managed to steal or buy.
[I T E M S]
Illeren carries a small pouch on his side which holds a number of items capable of keeping him going on the long treks between settlements and cities. He also has a ring his left hand. This item holds no particular significance for Illeren, merely being there to add âFlavor for the tossers who call me unculturedâ.
His Cavalier mask is also attached to a hook on his belt for the entire world to see.
[T O K E N S]
A sword of magnificent make. The sword to beat all other swords.
[P R I M A R Y | W E A P O N]
Weapon Name: The Cry of the Wind (Has been inscribed on the blade)
Weapon Type: Single handed double sided blade.
Length: 45 inch blade, 10 inch handle
Weight: Moderate
Origin: Made by a human smith by the name of Jonathan Lucan in the human controlled land of Airedale. Horrible stinking place, but the smiths there know their stuff. One of the few things that Illeren stuck around long enough to earn the money to pay for it. A sword worthy of use should be a sword worthy of pay.
BACKGROUND
[M A R I T A L | S T A T U S]
Illeren is currently single, his current life style not suited to settling down in any regard, although he is quite versed in female anatomy.
[F A M I L Y | T I E S]
[O C C U P A T I O N]
Illeren has done a number of things prior to Serpentâs Gathering, but if you were to really sum it up, I suppose a sellsword would have to do. Mix in banditry, thieving, the occasional farm hand and messenger and you have yourself a well rounded man who can and will do pretty much everything.
[S O C I A L | R A N K]
Illeren doesnât really have a social ranking in the Elven community, although if he had to guess âoutcastâ would probably be the one that suits him the most. He doubts heâs welcome back in Elven territory, but among humans and the few orcs that heâs managed to encounter itâs somewhat a mixed bag. Youâll meet some people who praise his swordsmanship and his strength of character, while others will utter death threats at the mere mention of his name.
[O P I N I O N S]
- Humans: Whatâs there to say? Thereâs good and bad ones, just like everywhere else. They tend to be everywhere and Illerenâs main source of employment, money, and food so he canât complain about them. Unlike other Elves, he never considers himself above them nor does he seem to believe that they need helping. If anything, human culture has rubbed off on him a bit too much, to the point where he doesnât consider them equal but more of an unpredictable factor. Something that makes working with them all the more interesting.
- Elves: For the most part, Illerenâs thoughts on his own kind are not very favorable. Heâs always been one for individualism and forging his own path, while for the most part, a lot of elves seem to work like cogs in a machine. He knows that there are those out there that are like him, either craving freedom or already having achieved it, but for the most part he limits his interactions with his own kind to a minimum...unless they are the attractive female type...in which case elves are the best thing since other elves.
- Orcs: Hulking brutes of raw strength, or at least, thatâs Illerenâs main opinion of them. He hasnât met too many of them to be perfectly honest, but he does seem to see a bit of elvish culture in how they handle things. These âNoble Warriorsâ seem to be locked into a role regardless if they enjoy it, and itâs something that he doesnât find enticing. He neither likes or hates them, much like humans theyâre unpredictable but mostly from his lack of experience with them...and that makes them enticing.
[R E L A T I O N S]
+1 for his name not being a high born dicker
+1 for Strength
+ 5 for Feistiness
-5 for Feistiness
+1 for not beinga stuck up dick
+3 for lady like strength
-1 for Hesitation
+2 for Hesitation-caused plan
+1 for getting Illeren's ass in gear
+2 for wanting to get a move on!
+1 for walking away
Also, the irony of an elf liking a human the most is not lost on Illeren, but he generally doesnât give a single fuck.
+5 for approval
+10 for FIRE SWORD THING!
+5 for THUNDER THIGHS
[B I O | H I S T O R Y]
Illerenâs history is not something he likes to talk about, unless youâre referencing exploits or fights from the ages. Illeren was born to a couple on the edge of Elven territory, the settlement of Kiloain. While a typically small patch of land by the standards of elf society, it was heavily militarized, used practically as a watchtower for threats from their neighbors. Illerenâs father, Killian, was a high ranking Cavalier within the Elven military. He wasnât in charge of the settlement by any means, but you would be hard pressed to find someone who would openly disagree with him. His mother was a baker, a rather skilled one if you believe the stories that Illeren would tell you.
His very early childhood was fairly standard, with the notable exception of his fatherâs lack of presence. Heading up the military arm of Kiloian took up a great deal of his time, and as such his family came second to the needs of the settlement. It wasnât until Illeren was nearly five years old did Killian even become a factor in his life. It seemed like Illeren would have preferred him to stay out if you ever got him to talk about it, seeing as his father didnât see him as a son but a protege and successor. From that moment on, he was no longer allowed to call Killian âDadâ or any other kind of sentimental nonsense. It was âSirâ or âCommanderâ. There, his long ordeal of training to become a Cavalier began.
Naturally Illeren was placed in a school or training camp if you will of other children roughly his age, all of which would be undergoing the training necessary to become a Cavalier. The only problem with this was that his father seemed to develop the idea that someone might consider him to be playing favorites, seeing that his son was also in the class. This lead to Illerenâs life and training becoming a literal hell for the next number of years. While Cavalier training isnât necessarily easy by any stretch of the imagination, Killian made it his sole goal to push Illeren farther and faster than any of the other kids there. If they had to do one hundred pushups, Illeren had to do two hundred. If they were to perform a series of attacks in ten second, Illeren had to do it in five. Even when he returned home it didnât end. If Killian wasnât pleased with Illerenâs performance, he would come home and conduct his one on one training right there in their house. A slow and gradual build up of hate was generated towards his father, and partly his mother for never stepping in to stop the obvious madness from happening.
In its own way, this proved to be better for Illeren than anything. He quickly started surpassing every other member of his training group, easily besting them in one on one combat, two on one combat, and if he was really feeling it, three on one combat. Like the other Cavaliers, he was trained to use a sword and shield in unison, but later dropped the shield as the years went on, choosing to go with the two handed blade technique instead. It was one of the few things his father didnât object to, instead simply opting to see how long he could go before he chose to bring the shield back. Instead, Illeren proved his father wrong and showcased an increased aggressiveness and ferocity with both of his hands on his weapon. He slowly but surely became the top Cavalier of his class, and by the age of 15 graduated with top honors.
Normally Illeren thought that was the end of it, that he had somehow passed some long trial of life and now he was finally through it. Instead, the other children were shipped off to different posts, while Illeren was to remain under the command of his father, who by that time became the Commander-in-Chief of Kiloainâs military forces. Typically one would assume that such a posting in a small outpost was a career killer, but due to their proximity to the border, it was actually a great honor. He was essentially the man in charge of their first line of defense, and he ordered his son to stay in Kiloain. He was presented with a suit of armor by his father, his first and only sign of appreciation to his son. Specially crafted and honed to fit just him, it was a temporary stopping block in the life long drill that had become Illerenâs life. Until the very next day when his father seemed to revert back to the same person he had been for the past ten years.
He didnât seem to get it out of his head that he no longer had to pretend that he was playing favorites. Illeren was berated every moment he was on duty. He wasnât standing straight enough, he wasnât paying attention, his words were slurred when he addressed a superior officer. Each one was landed with yet another punishment, be it extra drills and training or cleaning the latrines. The pot was boiling, and it wasnât until he was twenty years old that it finally bubbled over. Fifteen years of this shit was enough for Illeren, who had long ago decided that he didnât like the rigidness of Elven society. He wanted to see more than just tree lines and the edge of Elven territory. He wanted to talk to people other than military commanders. He wanted to live, laugh, and possible love but he knew he would never get that here. Under the ever watchful eye of Commander Myakleyth, and the subservience of his mother.
There was much internal quarrel for Illeren as he considered what would happen should he choose to leave. In the end, he decided it was the best thing for him, defying all his years of training and discipline for this one rogue act that would free him from the ever oppressing grip of his father and by extension, the Elven society. Without even a goodbye, Illeren had packed his bags and armor and left Kiloain under the cover of night.
The years progressing after that fateful night unravelled every bit of discipline that Illeren had built during his childhood. He adopted his new methodology âBecause I canâ about a year after leaving Kiloain. From there, he participated in a number of things ranging from banditry to farm hand for a bit. His skills with a blade never wavered however, somehow managing to stumble upon trainers from all makes of life in order to further hone his skills with a blade. At some point along his travels, the exact time lost even to him, he thought it would be funny if he started talking with an accent not of his homeland. He stuck with it, and has done so for so long that it has replaced his standard accent.
His appreciation for weapons, specifically swords, had always been with him since his early childhood. Now that he was out in the world, seeing new places and meeting new people, his mind exploded with some of the blades he was coming across. He got multiple tattoos, hired a blacksmith in Airedale to craft his current sword, and generally took care of it like a mother should have taken care of a child.
The rest of his history up until the present, a little over twenty years of it, is a mixture of jobs, both good and bad, along with more than a few hijinks involving the farmerâs daughter and a bucket of manure. He became the person he had always wanted to be, unchained to family or societal burdens.
Illeren had actually been near Autumnor when he had heard about the Serpentâs Gathering. He had been out of a job for some time, getting by on small body guard gigs and the occasional robbery of a merchant. The reward was more than substantial, but also part of him knew that the pestilence was a threat to everyone and everything, including himself. He would rather be there, on the front lines fighting it than waiting for someone else to fix problems that everyone would be facing at some point. Without much further thought, as was the norm for him by this point in his life, Illeren was off to the gathering with adventure on his mind and an adrenaline high in waiting.
[F L A G S]
Heading back to Elven Territory, specifically Kiloain.