Name: Balor Palamet
Age: 835
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Height: 6'2''
Perhaps the iconic aged sorcerer, with his long hoary beard, wrinkled skin and clouded blue eyes. His hair and eyebrows as long and full as what's hanging down from his face. Yet, even as old and enfeebled as he seems, there's a youthful vigor to his gait, his eyes and his mind. Time has touched his flesh, but certainly not his soul. That's not to say he is without some signs of age. One might often see lines of script on his hands and forearms, put there to remind him of wandering thoughts that may have slipped away. Rather than armor, Balor is wrapped in old grey robes still darker than his hair. The fabric frayed, dirty and looking as if it had just been hauled out from a moth infested attic box. Though he smells more like smoke. The rich scent of tobacco, parchment and whiskey hangs over Balor like a pall, speaking well of a man who enjoys his pipe, his drink and old, dusty tomes. In fact his pipe rarely is far from his reach, and it is not even uncommon to find him sucking on the end of the wooden stem, trails of wispy silver curling around his tall, wide brimmed hat. His voice is deep, rumbling and unusually lighthearted most of the time. He speaks in an almost joking tone when recounting thing's he's learned, leading many to the conclusion he finds their uninformed states amusing. Although in general conversation he is nothing more than pleasant, polite and even oddly charming. There is rarely a detail that would lead to others finding Balor threatening, but ever lingers an invisible permeation hinting at concealed, potent power.
"I have walked many a road in my years. Where stone has cracked, given way to growth and gathers little but more seams and more green. Time... Age has quite the sobering effect. Even for those such as myself, who continue to travel new roads. Freshly paved paths that will surely crumble away with the passing of years."
Learned? Wise? Good-natured? Off kilter? All of them are suitable, but none of them quite do the job to describe Balor adequately, especially not on their own. There is a coolness to him, constantly. He is slow to anger, slow to hate. Quick to learn, and swift to chase. His passion is knowledge, and that is his power. A fashion of the fatherly figure: kind, firm and guiding. He never asks to impart his wisdom, he simply does it. His mind is so full that it just seems to come spilling out at a moment's notice, no matter how insulting it might seem to whomever he's speaking to. Typically that is farthest from his intent and only meant to educate, and in that it could be said he is rather oblivious to what immediate effect his words might have. An odd slip for a man usually so aware, but even with his age he is still human. When around anyone younger than himself, Balor tends to regard them almost with an endearing sort of quality. The same way a grandfather might his children's children who are just learning of the world around them. As before, never meant to mock, but easily misconstrued by any those who notice. His mind is often wander, jumping from thought to thought with loosely connected bearing, if any at all. It could be a sign of his age, but the fact remains that he can sometimes appear rather absentminded. As a result, he's developed a habit of writing important things down on his hands and arms just in case he's worried they might be usurped by another train of thought. Balor is generally a peaceful man. He would hesitate to strike without need, and despite his vast repertoire of damaging magics he prefers to refrain from employing them. Chiefly he casts spells to defend or to heal, and only in the worst of perils would he shudder to bring low his ruinous powers. His goal? To safeguard, in any way he can.
- Master Wizard: Balor has lived for many centuries, and in all that time has gathered a mighty wealth. Not of money, but of knowledge. The secrets of the many arcane arts. Yet he would admit that there is so much more to be found, and that he has touched merely a scrap of magic's potential. Even with as much as he has poured over tomes, scrolls and pages of script, glyphs and runes. He has learned to more effectively wield his store of mana, and the added power given by the thunderstones he carries. These achievements have allowed the extension of his own life, and permit him to utilize magics both incredibly dangerous and imponderably advantageous. Perhaps the greatest thing he learned in all his many years is that the true method of becoming a great wizard is to master the art of creativity over structured implementation.
- Clear Sight: Having focused on elements and illusions more than most arts, Balor has attuned his eyes and his mind to the webworks of cloaking spells. It would take a very practiced magician to pull the wool over his eyes, but even then he may realize something is off. He has learned to detect the patchwork seams in these clouding charms, tear through them or at least navigate their lengths. Even this master has his limits, of course, and he has on several occasions fallen prey to expertly structured glamours. Each time he has survived, and learned from the skills of his betters in the craft.
- Storm Raiser: Among his elemental strengths, Balor counts the ability to stir to life vicious cataclysms of wind and fire, water and lightning, rock and ice as quite possibly his most terrifying attacks. These can easily sunder the weak and ill prepared in moments upon being summoned. Though they can be quite costly to his mana reserves, and thus he takes a risk upon each casting should it prove to be ineffectual.
- Burning Cloak: A terribly potent eruption of searing hot flames emanating from his body, curling outward like a hungering explosion, beating back any threat not resistant to such intense heat. With his thunderstones, Balor can extend these flames an appreciable distance outward into his surroundings. The real trick, he learned, was not to conjure this inferno, but to keep it from igniting his clothes in the process.
"Illusion may very well extend to the flesh, and is by no means limited solely to the workings of a spell. Glamours woven from the presentation of oneself can be just as dangerous as any charm, and possibly even more difficult to penetrate."
- Tempered Staff: A shaft of gnarled yew from a tree three thousand years of age: anointed in alchemical brew, etched with ancient words of power, and through magical processes two thunderstones have been embedded within. The effects are noticeable in not only increasing Balor's potential range, but also in the additional supply of energy this grants.
- Thunderstone Cord: Five thunderstones bound by a length of rope, tied around his neck and tucked beneath his robes. Their purpose obvious, and their influence readily apparent.
- Enchanting Equipment: A roll of cloth, the old linen stained with circles and lines, rings of glyphs and rites of power. Together with his runestones- stones of power cut and etched to provide specific affects- these artefacts allow Balor to bestow magical properties to a variety of items.
"I would never consider myself a warrior, not by any means. With that established, let us not forget that in a life as long as mine, and as far as I have traveled, there have been dangers. I would have been remiss, and certainly dead, to have ignored the more destructive arts of magic along the way."
Balor Palamet was born in a small village in a meager kingdom called Noya. Situated between three larger states, it was peaceful but far from prosperous. As a child Balor was always reading. At first just childrens' books, and then eventually moving on to accounts of history, and then magic. During his time, an enormous portion of Khassus belonged to the race of High Elves, their vast and bountiful empire reaching far and wide. He took to training in magic at the age of twelve, a local sorcerer having agreed to give him lessons in order to pay off his debt to Balor's father, a carpenter. Initially he was simply being groomed to take the man's place as the village's next mage, a very important role in such an isolated place. It very quickly took on a new form when his teacher took notice that Balor was not only learning at an alarming place, but executing the spells similarly. Realizing that the boy was a natural, the man took more time teaching him about the greater field of magic rather than just the basics a village mage would need to know. Balor thrived on the subjects, eagerly taking to whatever was set before him. Eventually, upon turning sixteen, he was enrolled into an academy in one of the neighboring lands where he could receive an even broader education in magic. During this time he made quite the name for himself, writing several books on magic theory and inventive application. It was not so much his experience that impressed his teachers and the scholars who read his works, but the fresh take on subjects that had largely become stagnant in the century prior.
Balor's world changed three years after his admission. His accomplishments had netted him the chance to take part in an expedition into an abandoned range of mountains. The land was said to be cursed, some even claiming it was outright evil. There, deep in a valley, they came upon an ancient and ruined city. They explored it for two days, and on the second they finally reached one of the most magnificent examples of this dead peoples' architecture: a great temple. Inside, they found that at the center was an ornate mosaic forming the shape of an eye. Within seconds they realized that the pupil was in fact a lodestone. Before they could attempt to remove it, they found the true nature of the valley's curse. The lodestone attacked them. Four men turned to ash, another into a grotesque monstrosity of twisted flesh and bone, screaming in terrible agony as it lashed out, killing two more. Balor, along with five others, attempted to escape, but were cut off and forced deeper into the temple. They were there for three days, down in the damp darkness. For three days they struggled against the power of the lodestone as it weighed down on top of them. They were shown visions, assaulted by beasts, and heard constant whisperings from bodiless voices. One woman was driven mad, and they were forced to kill her when she turned on them. On the final day, Balor decided they could wait no more. They would either all die, or at least perish fighting this force. He reached the grand chamber, and faced the eye. After an intense competition that rocked the foundations of the building, Balor managed to land what had been his strongest managed spell at the time. It cut deep into the stone, and the sphere exploded. The force of the blast clove the temple in half, depressing the ground and bringing down tons of stone and glass, but Balor, and the four who had stayed below, survived.
This event warped all of their perspectives on magic. When they returned, and recounted their findings, the academy was astonished, and terrified. They quieted them down, declaring that no word of this was to spread. With how important lodestones were to so many, they said, spreading this story would do nothing but cause panic. They claimed it was little more than a one off: a terrible tragedy. From the start this greatly upset each of them, and though they tried to cope none of them could ultimately bear the scope of what they'd experienced, and one by one each withdrew from the academy. At first Balor did not know where to go, or what to do. He wandered for several years, and as he went he began to collect knowledge on the lodestones. Books, scrolls and stories. Rumors, legends, tales. Possible explanations for what had happened and why. He finally found his answers when he was contacted by a small group of wizards- each of them very, very old- called the Nazdeen. They informed him that lodestones, being repositories of titanic amounts of magical energy, were unpredictable, and potentially extraordinarily dangerous. They taught him the nature regarding how these stones could attain such states, granting him the sum of what they knew. Aware of his potential, they offered him a place among their number: the first of a new generation. Balor accepted immediately, and thus began what he considered since to be his true training.
He learned many things, and one of the earliest was the extension of his own life. Without a lodestone, immortality was unattainable, but he would be able to live for much longer than the average human. He saw the fall of the Rexian Empire, watched the great battles between man and elf unfold. Despite his blood, and his power, he never joined the slaughter. He observed, he recorded, and he learned. Eventually he tracked down the other survivors from that ill fated expedition, and all but one accepted his invitation to join the Nazdeen. The name Balor Palamet faded into obscurity, the few works he'd written were buried under piles of other treatises. He became the old wizard who wandered the world. No one really knew where he came from or why he he was there. Most often, as soon as he arrived he would depart. Other times his visits were much more.. exciting. He is far more likely to appear when lodestones have been sighted, they say. It is certainly the reason Balor has made his way to Saridur, seeking passage to Naua Te. And what results might it bring? Who is to say. For all his sagacity, and as old as he is, Balor's eyes remain blind to the future.