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Ephraim of Theren

"There's something to be said for a ceiling of stars and a carpet of pine needles. Smells nice, for one."

0 · 139 views · located in In the Land of Baekoth

a character in “Baekoth: Revolution of the Heretical”, originally authored by Kurokiku, as played by RolePlayGateway



"I have no idea what I'm looking for, but in my experience, that really has very little bearing on whether or not I happen to find it."



“Oh, I'm about as bland as oatmeal, really. Completely, irredeemably tasteless. I mean—okay, that's not what I meant. I do have taste, I think. A little. I meant boring. I'm boring. You really don't want to talk to me for too long, right? Right. I'll just be leaving then...”

Ephraim of Theren is not a particularly imposing man, but it would also perhaps be a mistake to consider much of anything about him to be average. The most immediately noticeable aspect of his appearance is his height, which, considering especially the typical stature of a human or even elvish fellow, is quite something. He often has to duck down under doorways and so forth to get around inside homes and buildings of like sizing. While his height may qualify as orcish, however, his build is anything but. Reedy might be the right word for it, and indeed, he’s slender, though there is some musculature to be found there, more the kind born of work and a general inclination towards travel and life in the wilds than any sort of warriors’ conditioning.

His hair is an unremarkable color and length, his eyes, large enough to render an impression of naïveté and innocence, however veridical or misleading it may be. He always seems to be looking at something, studying, measuring, deciding, assessing. There’s nothing straightforwardly judgmental in it, and indeed, he seems a strange mix of learned scholar and curious child, always inclined to touch this or observe that, with a certain kind of guilelessness and innocence of that beyond his immediate concern. A savant’s demeanor, awkwardness and all.

He moves in a strange kind of way, his motions often half-formed, and then aborted, when his intellect draws even with his instinct. He’s given to strange tics, flicks of his fingers and tucking elbows, as though apologizing without words for the amount of space he occupies. It’s a little unusual for him, too, because he wasn’t always so tall, and he never seems to have quite grown into his own skin, even this many years later. It gives him a certain kind of shambling awkwardness, at least when he’s around other people and reminded of how gangly he is, how rangy and towering and spindle-limbed. In the wilds, he flows more naturally, the confidence and ease of practice returned to him, but these are the moments that no one sees, because he travels always alone.

  • Hair: Dark Brown, or raven if you want to be poetic about it. Quite choppy, generally clean, though admittedly with a prominent case of bedhead and the occasional leaf stuck in there somewhere.
  • Facial Hair: Scruffy, shaved occasionally, but irregularly. Those of elven heritage generally can’t grow much facial hair—even what he has is more than the average half-blood.
  • Eyes: Dark blue, almost on the indigo side of things. A bit on the large side for a man, reinforcing the impression of youth and relative immaturity he gives off. Prone to darting and wide-eyed staring. Don’t mind him.
  • Build: Awkward. Sure, there’s a semi-respectable amount of muscle on there, largely from work rather than any concerted effort to gain it, but considering his hello-up-there height, he comes across as rangy, wiry, stringy, someone-get-this-man-a-sandwich. He’d make a passable scarecrow, if he was given to standing in fields for protracted periods of time.
  • Skin Tone: Naturally fair, bronzed just a bit from exposure. He doesn’t show the weathering of someone who’s spent an entire life in the sun, however, suggesting that the tinting is recent.
  • Height: Can’t fit though doorways tall. About 6’6”.
  • Weight: Bit skinny, aren’t cha? Probably around 170. Decent on someone else, but it has to go a lot further on Ephraim.
  • Voice: Expecting a light tenor, weren’t you? Negative, captain. This one’s got a pretty decent baritone going on. Probably still manages to sound like the universal greenhorn, but at least it’s pleasant to hear and not grating like a whiney teenager.
  • Handed: Left. He was just doomed to be normal in as few ways as possible, unfortunately.
  • Body Markings: There’s a reddish birthmark on one side of his neck. Some seer once told him it was an ill omen, but it just looks like a splotch as far as Ephraim can tell. If you squint a bit, it might pass for a bird in flight.
  • Scar Tissue: Several, usually minor and incidental, evidence more of clumsiness than struggle of any true kind.
  • Unique Body Features: Sometimes hidden by that scruffy haircut, there are slight points to Ephraim’s ears, indicating that at least one of his parents was of elven descent.

Ephraim of Theren [eff-RAYM of TEH-rehn]

Honestly? Nobody’s ever bothered to call him anything else, though occasionally he thinks it might be nice. He’s not sure what it would be, though—his name’s not exactly easy to shorten.

Not unless you count “boy.”

Half-Elven, though all things considered, he’s probably part something important from several generations back. His parents aren’t exactly around to ask, though. This makes him a daemon, technically, though because he can mostly pass for human, it's usually not an issue.

Visual Age

Factual Age


Sexual Orientation
Theoretically pansexual, though in terms of practice, asexual.

Mage Ranking
Azanthiel, the Gifted. And he’d rather not be.

Monk? At least, he seems to have an affinity for animus magic. He’s never been properly instructed in its use, however, so expect very crude applications, if any.



“T-twitchy? Who’s twitchy? I’m not twitchy. …Okay, I might be a little bit twitchy. Erm.”

It’s probably easy to take a look at Ephraim and guess that he’s mostly socially inept. The man talks at the speed of someone almost deranged, and tends to use very interesting inflection and phraseology. The dialect doesn’t correspond to any region in particular; rather it seems to be a mixture of the polite, decorous phrases used by those whose business is in pleasing others, along with the scholarly turns he learned to read from, combined with a certain kind of presiding nervousness that adds an additional stutter or hitch or repetition here and there. He might be mad, if he didn’t have every reason to be as wary as he is.

Beneath this, however, closer to the core of his character and the part of himself well-hidden by the affectations he’s assumed and grown into as needed, Ephraim is a personable, contemplative fellow with a deep well of empathy for others. His unceasing drive to understand extends to understanding the people in whose company he occasionally finds himself, and there is something oddly charismatic about him, though it is by no means universal. Some may find him very easy to talk to, a sympathetic ear with the promise of reserved judgement and honest advice, but others might see nothing more worthwhile than a bleeding-heart or a bumbling fool.

Ephraim is just a smidge philosophical, though he’d be the first person to encourage another not to take him at all seriously. Indeed, though his foibles are many and his haplessness almost overwhelming, he seems to be quite conscious of this, and rather apologetic for it. When in the company of others for an extended period of time, he often just does his best to stay out of the way, though he’s the kind of person that will do various little tasks beneath the notice of others in an attempt to ease whatever burdens they may find themselves carrying. Not much seems to genuinely perturb him, and the constant wariness is more a default reaction to a change in circumstance than anything. He comes off as nervous, but not overly quick to react with fear or sudden movements. The combination of these traits is… strange. While cautious and perhaps even paranoid, he somehow manages to be very far from neurotic.

  • Twitchy || Ephraim gives of the impression of being perpetually nervous, at least when other people are around. It toes the line between extreme social awkwardness and outright paranoia, and manifests in various small tics, such as the tendency to drum his fingers on things, jump at loud noises, and the like. Even his facial expressions are on a hair-trigger, making him remarkably easy to read… if one can keep up with the speed of them, anyway.
  • Tinkerer || He learned a trade mostly out of necessity, as many do, but he’s forever worrying at small fragments of wood or strips of leather, largely to have something to do with his hands. He’s actually surprisingly artistic, and some of these throw-away time wasters turn into trinkets of little value but much beauty.
  • Whistler || He’s no singer, but he can carry a tune in other ways. Whistling is also a limited form of communication between himself and Osiris, by which he signals the griffin to do various things, like land or hide. He can also mimic natural regional birdcalls with a high degree of accuracy.

Moral Alignment
  • Neutral Good || More or less, Ephraim gets along as well as he can. Given certain aspects of his history, he’s probably a fugitive or a heretic, though he never intended to be any of these things, and he certainly isn’t evil. Actually, he’s a gentle fellow, and inclined to helping others where he can, though this tendency is in conflict with his need to preserve his anonymity, and the preservation does win out most of the time. Still, Osiris wouldn’t hang around if there was nothing in him worth hanging around. Isn’t that kind of the thing about griffins?

  • Just…let’s not cock this up, okay? || In defiance—not calculated—of the kind of person he probably should be, Ephraim does not have any particularly grand statements to make about where he wants his life to take him or what he holds above all else. Frankly, he’s more concerned with getting by in the day-to-day. That’s enough of a challenge for someone as… inelegant as he is, and expecting too much more out of him is likely to disappoint.

  • Secrecy || It’s not always easy, hiding that much raw magical power. Hiding the fact that you can kind of feel it in there, messing with your insides and twisting things up all funny. It’s especially difficult when you have no idea what to do with it. What Ephraim decidedly doesn’t want is to go to prison for practicing magic while not Aulean. He’s not entirely sure he would, because he doesn’t think he’s a wizard, but honestly, have you seen those Inquisitors? How many of them are really going to bother checking whether he’s in magical column A or magical column B?

  • The Inquisition || You never expect it… In all seriousness, though, a bunch of angry people with torture devices and the backing of some kind of growth cult? Yeah, he’d rather avoid that if at all possible. Unfortunately, Ephraim has very real reasons to be afraid of the people, because random non-Aulean mages with Gifted levels of talent are not the kinds of thing an Inquisition would want wandering around. And he prefers to be wandering around, when the alternative is rotting in prison or dead.

  • Raison d’etre || There comes a certain point when just subsisting isn’t enough anymore. Certainly, Ephraim desires to keep living from day-to-day, but… he seeks also something beyond that. Some reason to continue onwards, other than the bare fact that dying sounds a bit like a bad deal. He’s never had that kind of reason so much, and honestly, he has no idea how to go about finding one.

  • Wilderness || Ephraim never expected to be much of a lover of nature, considering he was raised in a brothel in a city, but you know… there’s just something about the quiet there—and it helps that the worst thing you have to be worried about is the occasional wild animal or bandit. He actually likes wild animals, and they tend to leave him alone, for the most part. Bandits are less pleasant, but they leave him alone, too, with a bit of percussive persuasion.
  • Food || One might never think so to look at him, but the man can eat, and quite enjoys doing so. Meat, vegetables, sweets, whatever—it’s all perfectly delicious to him, especially if it was prepared by someone else. He can cook himself, of course—he’s had to learn—but it tastes better if you don’t make it yourself, he firmly believes.
  • Travel || The vagrant’s life is his by this point, and he’s learned to embrace it, and all the unique and often perilous trials it offers. At least he doesn’t get bored, though perhaps one day, he might appreciate a bit of permanence. Not yet, though, definitely not yet.

  • Zealots || It’s not even so much that Ephraim dislikes them as they make him nervous. He can like basically anyone just fine, but he does have some—justifiable—paranoia when it comes to anyone who feels strongly enough about something to attempt to force him to feel it, too… or punish him for being otherwise. It’s just a mess, and he’d really, really prefer not to deal with it.
  • Alcohol || Bodily pollutants in general. He doesn’t like the way they fuzz over his awareness, make him easier to catch off guard. He also prefers being able to think, in all honesty. Why would anyone voluntarily give up something so important?
  • Uncleanliness || Despite living a life on the road, Ephraim is quite hygienic when compared to most of the people he has cause to meet. He doesn’t mind smelling like a forest, or even carrying debris in his hair or on his clothes, but sweat and grime are dealt with as soon as possible. It’s just uncomfortable, otherwise.

  • Magic || Gifted are not exactly common, no matter where you’re from. The depth and nature of his magic at once astounds and baffles him, and he doesn’t properly understand it, despite doing his best to pick up what he can from the occasional library he encounters on his travels. There’s just not much use trying to learn that way, not without a teacher. Still, Ephraim has done what he can, largely via trial and error experimentation, and learned to take hold of at least some of what he can do. It scares him a little, though, the yearning for purpose it gives him. The desire to turn himself towards something greater.
  • Cleverness || Though his demeanor may suggest otherwise at times, Ephraim is not a lackwit by any stretch of the imagination, and in fact is quite clever, in a certain unrefined, unlearned sense. Like his magic, his intellectual prowess is raw rather than studied, but he is eager to learn and pick up on new things, which perhaps explains how he’s managed to teach himself as much as he has.
  • Observation || Twenty years on the lookout for people who might turn you in to the authorities is as good a training method as any when it comes to learning how to pick up on facial and body language cues, especially regarding honesty and intent. That’s not to say that someone can’t successfully lie to Ephraim—they just have to be a very practiced liar. The same skill also proves useful for noting his surroundings and environment, and he’s especially sensitive to changes in his proximity.

  • Untutored || Put simply, much of Ephraim’s current state is wasted potential. There’s just a lot he doesn’t know about himself and what he can do , let alone how to do it. Mayhaps he’ll run into someone more learned on his ventures and be able to wheedle lessons out of them, but until then, his magical subtlety has one setting: sledgehammer.
  • Softhearted || Being generally of an empathetic, malleable disposition, it is quite difficult to get Ephraim to see the clouds for the silver linings. He does not generally assume anything but the best of other people, at least not until he’s observed something concrete to suggest an untoward fact. It’s a bit of an odd mesh with his embedded paranoia, but a decent enough sob-story can basically override his warier tendencies.
  • Inept || The things Ephraim learns, he learns well, but he hasn’t ever really been a natural at anything. Things do not come intuitively to him—he has to work and understand and struggle to get them right. Chances are good that if he’s never needed to know how to do it, he cannot learn from the “crash course” and be even halfway competent. He always has to take the slow road to mastery, but this has at least instilled in him a certain sense of dedication.

  • Common || Surprisingly literate, for one without a noble background or any kind of formal education. He taught himself to read, and then to write. Slowly and painstakingly, but he learned, and that’s the important thing.
  • Elvish || Once he learned to read Common, he had a gateway into other languages, most easily elvish. He’s had a chance to visit elven settlements, and so has practiced his speech to a fluent, though not native, degree of proficiency.
  • Orcish || It’s halting and awkward, but he can speak it. This was largely due to his study of an attempted orcish lexicon, compiled by some scholar or another and stuffed in a forgotten corner of a library.



“You know, I’d always heard the wilderness was incredibly uncomfortable to live in. Maybe it is, if you try to live in it like you’d live in a city. But once you learn how to treat it differently, a life on the road isn’t so bad. I never wake up in the same place twice.”

Most often nothing, though he does own a hooded cloak for colder climes. This is a dark blue in color, though the edges are a bit faded and ragged comparatively, perhaps a dull grey more than anything.

A shabby cravat, most of the time, though there’s a wooly scarf backed in with the possessions he carries on his back.

Ephraim wears layers, as this is generally more economical for someone who lives on the road. The lowest layer is a simple shirt, once white but now off-white, though the linen of it is still in decent repair, patched serviceably in a few places but otherwise intact. Over this is a tunic, either dark green or dark grey depending on which one is clean at the time, and the other is stowed in his trusty pack. Both have laces from the collar to the midway point of his chest, done up in all but the most heated and uncomfortable conditions. Over that is a set of surprisingly well-crafted leather armor, plain but clearly of quality. This is on the darker side of brown, and fitted extremely well to his awkwardly-proportioned frame, meaning of course that it was made with him in mind. It’s a bit scuffed, but maintained as skillfully as it was made, and makes almost no sound when he moves.

From behind, it’s usually the pack one sees, or perhaps the bow-and quiver. The satchel is not overly bulky, containing only those things which are absolutely essential to a life on the road. Everything else, he makes, finds, or does without.

Aside from the obvious sleeves, Ephraim’s arms are protected by bracers that match the leather chestplate, and his shoulders by small, but sturdy pauldrons that provide only minimal restriction to his movement. The bracers extend to cover the backs of his hands, ending just before his knuckles, though the leather understandably thins a bit there, to preserve a dexterous range of motion. They lace on the underside.

Right Hand

Left Hand
Like most archers, Ephraim wears a glove on the hand that pulls his bowstring. As he happens to be left-handed, this is the left one. Only parts of this are leather, mostly on the undersides of the fingers—the rest is fabric for more flexibility and breathability.

Right Accessory
There’s a colorful wristband on his right wrist, surely tied on until it should be cut away. It seems to be made of nothing more valuable than spare scraps of silk, the kind one might find on celebratory banners or in the leavings of a dressmaker’s work. These are braided together tightly, though the colors are fading a bit at the edges, from wear and sun.

Left Accessory

His belt is also leather, and entirely serviceable for the purpose of keeping up his pants. Not always a simple thing, given the fact that he often loses mass when in the wilds for extended periods of time, as often occurs.

Ephraim owns two pairs of breeches in very dark brown, somewhat rough but durable enough for his purposes. One of them’s slightly newer than the other, so he tends to save that one for the sojourns he makes into more populated areas.

To anyone who’s ever had to walk a long way, footwear is a topic on which a surprising amount of opinion can be mustered. To anyone who has known the horror of marching with blisters, Ephraim’s boots are something to envy. Supple, buttery treated leather, capped by enough greyish fur to be warm in snow and not horrible in summer, they bend without creaking and nearly hit his knees, layered over by more shaped greaves that provide a bit more protection of the martial variety. What kind of leatherworker allows himself to wander far afield in inferior boots? A stupid one—and for all else that he may be, Ephraim is not stupid.



“Ah… if we could avoid coming to blows, that would be fantastic. See, my philosophy about fighting is pretty simple: I’d rather not.”

Rating System
[Perfect] - [Excellent] - [Good] - [Above Average] - [Average] - [Below Average] - [Poor] - [Very Poor]

  • Hand-to-Hand Combat: || [Excellent] You’d never think it to look at him, and he wouldn’t blame you for that. Actually, this requires some qualification: if the situation comes to a point where physical violence is necessary and Ephraim can get his magic working the way he wants it to, he’ll do a pretty damn good job. Granted, it will probably be crude enough to make berserkers and gladiators look like they’re dancing, but it’ll work. Anima magic can be used to enhance the physical capability of the person using it, and with as much as he’s got… he could probably knock down stone walls if he put his mind to it. Notably, however, he doesn’t actually know how to throw a punch, and has broken his fingers and knuckles on more than one occasion because he used too much force the wrong way. Thankfully, he’s since learned how to up his durability as well, but… the magic is finicky, and he can't always make it work right. If he doesn’t… he’s about as much of a wet noodle as he appears.
  • Melee Combat: || [Average] He’s no worse than any other ordinary citizen with a pointy thing, though that’s not saying much. With the axe he carries, he’s marginally better, but that’s more a tool than a weapon, and is really only something he’d consider using as the latter if all other options were lost to him.
  • Ranged Combat: || [Good] One does not take to a life of travel without a way to procure food, and though he is very respectful of the animals he must kill to survive, he is not a vegetarian. Because his magic is unreliable and the idea of murdering a deer or rabbit with an axe is just… bizarre (and vaguely nauseating), he learned to shoot a bow, mostly from watching other archers and doing his best to understand the physics involved. He’s no legendary sharpshooter, but he can hit a moving target just fine, and that’s all he needs.
  • Magic Combat: || [??] Your guess is as good as his. Ephraim’s ability to do anything with his magic tends to vary wildly, largely dependent on whether the thing that needs doing falls into the category of things he’s managed to figure out. When the situation calls for something he knows? He’d probably be hard to beat, given the sheer amount of power at his disposal. Otherwise, he’s laughably bad. It takes him a while to learn new things, though occasionally there are... accidents, when he does something purely instinctively that isn’t even possible for most mages. These moments are rare, however, and usually require extreme emotional duress. There’s a prodigy in there somewhere, but reaching him is… not easy. Most of the time one gets the inept apprentice instead.
  • Mounted Combat: || [Below Average] Osiris has yet to actually let him on, for whatever reason. He can ride just fine, horses and the like, and potentially even shoot from the back of something, but actual combat? No thank you. It’s especially bad when one considers that his usual method for that kind of situation is punching. Why would he need a mount for that?

Racial Abilities
  • Diplomacy || [Above Average] He can be a bit charming, in a completely nonthreatening, graceless sort of way. This works better with certain kinds of women than most men, because they find him cute. Well, it could be worse, right? He could be dead. So there’s that. With anyone else, though, it’s perhaps his intellect and honesty—to a point—that shine through most clearly. He’s obviously harmless, and nobody so clearly ridiculous has ever been dangerous, right?
  • Adaptability || [Average] In the sense of being tolerant of changes in environment and circumstance, Ephraim is quite adaptable indeed. He is largely fine with whatever conditions he finds himself in, and seems to handle adversity with a certain kind of quiet equanimity. He doesn’t freak out, he doesn’t dig his heels in like someone stubborn and bullheaded, he just… flows. From one thing to another, with more or less grace depending on the situation. On the other hand, he’s not terribly quick with picking up new skills. Ephraim could never be a jack-of-all trades. He’s either the wet-eared apprentice or the master, and the nebulous middle is one he almost never occupies. He toils to understand, long and hard, for that inevitable movement when everything just clicks. So making him passable at anything new takes quite a while, and in that sense, he’s not very adaptable at all.
  • Cunning || [Poor] He might be able to detect a lie very well, and he can generally keep his head down well enough not to be noticed, but when it comes time for direct deception, he’s basically hopeless. He’s also neither talented at nor inclined to manipulate others. If they cannot be won by logic or sincerity, Ephraim cannot win them.

Natural Talent
  • Seventh Son of a Seventh Son || [Perfect] Well… you either are, or you aren’t. As it happens, Ephraim is, though not all of those sons had the same mother. Apparently, that part doesn’t matter so much. This carries with it some powerful magical immunities, which have proven helpful from time to time in keeping his unlucky self alive and breathing.
  • Survival || [Good] When it comes to getting by in a forest, mountains, or even the desert, Ephraim surprisingly knows what he’s doing. He has an intuitive connection with uninhabited—or sparsely-inhabited—lands, and a deep respect for the harshness of the open environment. He can hunt, start fires, cook, forage, and otherwise make do for himself in a minimally invasive way.

Class Skills
  • Leatherworking || [Excellent] Ephraim is a tradesman by, well, trade, and his particular expertise happens to lay in leatherworking. He did the traditional apprenticeship process with a client of his aunt’s, and has become quite skilled with a great deal of practice. While he can tan leather himself, his primary skill is in the latter stages of processing: molding, tooling, and the like. He specializes in armor, though he can make and has made just about anything one would wish to fashion out of leather. Notably, he’s not bad with fabric, either, and can act as a tailor in a pinch.
  • Martial Arts || [Poor] Should he know it? Probably, if he wants to crush his knuckles less often. But it’s not exactly something he has had the opportunity to learn; instructors are not as easy to come by as leatherworking masters are, obviously. As it stands, he may know some of the physics of hand-to-hand, but he has very little recognizable skill.
  • Stealth || [Average] He’s not horrible at moving quietly, when the occasion calls for it, such as during a hunt. He is, however, no sneaky thief or assassin.

  • Anima Magic || [???] Ephraim’s application of his immense amount of innate magic is hit-and-miss, at best. When he hits, so to speak, he can use it to do quite a number of things, from healing (most easily himself) to physical augmentation to even the manipulation of the raw elements. It would be a mistake to assume that he can merely do all of these things at will, however, and he’s really best off not using it in mundane ways. Once, he attempted to be lazy and start a fire with his magic. He started a fire, all right, and nearly burned down half a mile of forest before he could put out the flames properly.
  • Ki Sap || [???] The ability to draw further magical energy from one’s surroundings is something Ephraim has discovered is possible for him, but his accuracy is spotty. It’s much easier for him to function on what is simply in him, as he usually finds it adequate to his purposes.



“Travel light, else you won't travel far. Thought of that little nugget myself, I did. And before you ask... yes, I'm aware of how utterly lacking in profundity it is.”

  • Sewing Kit || In addition to his other travel necessities, Ephraim carries several needles and threads of varying thickness for use in clothing repair and maintenance. It’s saved him a lot of money and discomfort over the years he’s spent on the road. You’d be surprised what kinds of odd jobs people are willing to hire a vagrant for, too—the skill has proven useful, if not at all glamorous.
  • Pack || Stocked in Ephraim’s bag are clothes, a blanket, a silk scarf, a length of rope, a utility knife, some leatherworking tools, a pot, soap, a straight-razor, flint and a little bundle of tinder, and whatever incidentals he’s happened to pick up on the road, like herbs or consumables. He manages to pack all this in with frightening efficiency, and the satchel itself weighs only about thirty pounds when combined with his quiver of arrows.
  • Book || There’s a partially filled book and a stick of charcoal in there for writing, too, in case he should ever need them. Ephraim does not keep a regular journal, though he keeps telling himself that he should.

  • Silk Wristband || The braided band of silk around his wrist was actually a parting gift from his aunts, many years ago now. Each of the colors represents a different woman, and there are six in total: red, white, green, gold, indigo, violet.

  • Weapon Name: People name their weapons?
  • Weapon Type: Bow
  • Material: Wood—yew, in this case.
  • Ammo: Arrows
  • Length: 6’
  • Weight: A few pounds, give or take.
  • Weapon Description/Info: It’s assuredly a longbow, and a very powerful one at that. It doesn’t look like he could even handle the draw weight, to be honest, but Ephraim is quite capable of it even without the assistance of magic. His bow is elegantly recurved, and likely of elvish make.

  • Weapon Name: Uh… it’s my axe?
  • Weapon Type: Axe
  • Material: Wood, steel
  • Ammo: None
  • Length: 2.5’
  • Weight: 5lbs-ish
  • Weapon Description/Info: The axe is more an item of utility than a weapon as such, used for chopping wood and cutting away underbrush more than for dramatic throws and bloody beheadings. Still, its serviceable and sharp, so it would do in a pinch.



“It's actually not so bad. The worst part was being called 'whoreson' there for a while. It's not really worth explaining that the whores were my aunts. Nice ladies, though, they are.”

Group Affiliation
Presently? Absolutely none. Ephraim is an impressionable sort, however, and should the right circumstances come along, he may be persuaded to make something of all that latent talent of his. Actually, the circumstances need not even be right, just… pressing.

Marital Status
You kidding? If there were some kind of separate status for being so single it’s almost painful, that would be the one Ephraim occupied. As it is, he’s just your garden-variety bachelor. Not actively seeking to change that, either, but hey, life is strange and you never know, right? It would be a very odd kind of person indeed who could put up with him, though.

  • Father || Ephraim’s never had the first clue who the man was, except that he was an elf of some stripe. He’s never thought it all that important to find out, either, in all honesty. Why would he want anything to do with someone who never wanted anything to do with him?
  • Elena of Theren || His mother died in childbirth, so he never knew her, either. It’s not all that bad, though, because at least he knew her family, or… well, at least on some interpretation of the word family.
  • The White Rose of Theren || Or Aunt Rose, to him. As the moniker might suggest, Rose was a courtesan, one fortunate enough to work out of a reputable house. She, and a few of his mother’s other associates, raised him after her death. His mother was never a prostitute, though, but rather a servant girl at the house. Still, she was well-loved by the working girls, apparently well enough that they didn’t seem to mind taking care of her bastard.

Origin/Social Rank
Brothel errand boy. It’s not as low as slave by any means, and he worked for a proper legal house where the girls were looked after properly, but he’s certainly no prodigal noble son, nor indeed anyone with much status at all. He’s a wanderer, these days and the road is his home. That’s just fine by him—attention is something he’s never been comfortable with.

He lives on the road and in the wilderness. When he needs to, he plies his trade or does odd jobs in the towns he comes across. It isn’t luxurious, but it’s a life, and it’s his own to do with as he can. That’s more than a lot of people have, and he is well aware of this fact.

Ephraim of Theren is surnamed for a town, not a person. That’s a clue that his parents are either unknown to him or of very, very low status. He’s got one of each, actually, though he does know a few things about his father. For one, the man—or elf, rather—was someone’s seventh son. And has at least six other sons running about somewhere. Actually, if he was married or something before he met Elena, and has had any sons since, his infidelity has probably been discovered, because the seventh of the seventh would be very noticeably missing. Kind of a silly mistake to make, all things considered.

Whatever the case, he’s never met the fellow, though that hasn’t bothered him overmuch. Properly, he never “met” his mother, either, because she died in his birth. He was raised collectively by the courtesans at the establishment she cleaned, and these women, he was told to refer to as his aunts. Things can go a few different ways for a child in a brothel, but for Ephraim, they mostly went well. His aunts were good people, and he became a bit dear to them, in his way. None of them were all that maternal to him, but they somehow managed between them to bring him up in a way that he would consider reasonably loving. Perhaps he was something between a mascot and everyone’s collective little brother or nephew, but he never minded.

It wasn’t until he was about twelve that he discovered his latent magical talent, which is much later than most of the particularly talented do. It wasn’t a particularly big thing, really, at least not in the sense that it was all that showy or heroic or however these sorts of moments are supposed to go. He was just climbing a tree in the gardens outside the house and fell out of it when trying to jump from it to a window. He was attempting to avoid Aunt Calliope, because she was of a mind to make him wash the dishes, and Ephraim had never been fond of washing dishes. Well, he missed the jump, and fell perhaps a good twenty five feet to the ground and broke his neck—or would have, if he hadn’t somehow solidified his own structure and left a small crater in the dirt instead, stepping out of it unharmed, but surprised.

One of his Aunts, Lenore, had some magic herself, and recognized what it must mean. She taught him just enough to prevent most accidents, but there wasn’t much she could do beyond that, and for a while, it wasn’t really a problem. He never had the ambition required to attempt to use his talent, and it wasn’t until his late teens that it really started to get out-of-hand. His talent, his raw potential, began to grow and mature, but his learning did not, and Ephraim began to have accidents.

After a disaster that nearly leveled the house, and would have, if Lenore had not figured out what was about to happen just in time, he voluntarily left the place to learn a trade, hoping that perhaps having some very hard, very tiring work to do might burn off the energy. A rather misguided notion of how magic works, but one he wasn’t wise to at the time. He took up with a friendly leatherworker, one of Aunt Rose’s regulars, and though at first it seemed he had no talent for the craft, he eventually got the hang of it, matching the quality of his mater’s work within a few years. During this time, he also frequented the large Library at the College of Theren, a reputable University and the source of education for many a noble scion. He was rather predictably looked down upon by the students who came upon him, but it never bothered him. He was there to learn things, to understand them, and the drive to do that was always greater than the power that scorn had to push him away. Indeed, this has perhaps always been one of Ephraim’s most respectable traits—he is not easily cowed, not by social pressure, anyway.

At the age of twenty-one, he took his leave of Theren for good, feeling inside himself a deep wanderlust and desire for something he could not name. It was also becoming difficult for him to remain under the radar of those who would seek to exploit his magic, or at the very least confine him. He’d grown up with fettered people, and however at ease they were with their lives, he knew quite early on that it was not the kind of existence he could live comfortably. He would rather be without material luxury and left to his own devices than put up in a cage, however gilded it may be.

The years on the road have allowed him a lot of time in his own head, as well as the chance to experiment a little with his abilities, and see what he can do. He hasn’t found the upper limit of his potential, and more than anything, that scares him. He isn’t sure he wants to know everything that he’s capable of, but he might not have much of a choice. The magic calls to him, and the best way he can think of to describe it is the way one of his aunts would speak to a lover. Sweet, tender, but also darkly-promising. It’s the kind of thing that tempts and repulses him at the same time, and whether he swings towards or away from that temptation, it is rarely ever far from his mind.

About a year prior to this point, he was traveling through the mountains when he came upon Osiris. He has no idea what made the griffin appear to him, but he did, and he’s been around ever since. The funny thing is, he rarely ever bothers to travel with Ephraim, but he will sometimes bed down on the edge of the man’s camp at night, and they’ve shard more than a few conversations, to put it one way. But the griffin comes and goes as he pleases, and Ephraim is content to let him do so.

“Oh, you mean Sir? Uh, I wouldn’t call him a ‘mount,’ especially not to his face. It’s not like I’ve ever tried to climb on, either.”

  • Hair: Part feathers, part hide, part fur. Most of it’s between grey, brown, and white. Apparently this is pretty standard for griffins. Having met only the one, Ephraim is choosing to take his word for it.
  • Eyes: Gold, and formed after the manner of predatory birds.
  • Build: Daunting.
  • Height: About 6’ at the shoulder, perhaps another foot and a half in neck and head. Noticeably huge wingspan, which it would have to be, in order for a creature that large to fly.
  • Weight: Ephraim’s never asked, but a lot is probably a fair guess.
  • Body Markings: Aside from the unusual formation of his body itself, none.
  • Scar Tissue: Sir does carry a few scars here and there, from old battles, most likely. None of them are particularly devastating.

Osiris, or at least that’s how he introduced himself to Ephraim. It’s as good a name as any, he supposes.

Ephraim usually just calls him “Sir.” Part of it is a playful joke, yes Sir, no Sir, three bags full, Sir, but should the creature take occasion to bring the full gravity of his dignity to bear, it might not be such an inappropriate thing to call him. There’s something knightly and intrinsically dignified about Sir. Possibly ancient, even.

Griffin, mighty commanders of the sky. Not even a drake wants to look the wrong way at one such as Osiris, and for good reason. Those are some wicked talons he has, in all honesty. Sir has a roughly eagle-like head, though his beak is much larger proportionally than one would be on a bird. His forelimbs also resemble an eagle’s in that they are somewhat scaly and possess wicked grey talons. His shoulders and forequarters, as well as his tail, resemble a lion’s, whereas his hindquarters are slightly equine in appearance. He bears also a very large pair of wings for flight.

Unknown, though something about him seems very old, at least as far as Ephraim can tell. Physically, however, he does not appear significantly aged.


  • Telepathy || [Excellent] The beak and bird’s tongue are not terribly good for verbal communication in any comprehensible language, though there are some vocalizations of which Osiris is capable, especially whistles, clicks, and something like caws. He is, however, far more than a simple beast, and can communicate with mind-to-mind speech. It should be noted that he does not generally have the ability to read the mind of someone unwilling (though he may be able to sense the general “mood” of someone’s thinking), but if something is directed at him, he can perceive it and respond in kind.
  • Perception || [Good] It is said that griffins do not appear but before those of noble heart and potential. Whether this is true or not, Osiris does seem to have the uncanny ability to take a person’s measure simply by looking at them, as though he were seeing something other than what everyone else does. It’s not an exact procedure by any means, but nevertheless, he is an astonishingly good judge of character. It’s nothing so specific as knowing anything much about a person’s history or deeds, only something like the sum total of what those deeds have made them—be that good, evil, lawful, chaotic, or something in between.

  • Flight || [Excellent] A creature like Sir is born to fly, and indeed goes about it exceptionally well. He can carry considerably more passengers than the average horse even in the air, though any more than three would significantly hamper his maneuverability in the air.
  • Warfare || [Excellent] Well, Osiris is large, imposing, and armed with natural weaponry. It’s probably unsurprising that he makes for a tough opponent in a fighting situation in his own right. That said, however, he is not the sort to enter an engagement for petty reasons, and his motivations are his own. The degree to which he would even assist Ephraim is not exactly predictable.

None—the very idea of trying to saddle a griffin is both insulting and ridiculous. It hasn’t even crossed Ephraim’s mind, either.


Osiris has revealed little of his history to Ephraim. What he has spoken of indicates that he was always a solitary creature, something of an outlier even among his own kind, and perhaps this is something they share in common, if Ephraim can be said to have a kind. He seems old, and very occasionally, a little bit weary of things in a way that his companion cannot and does not really understand. Nevertheless, the two have a peaceful accord, and at the very least, Sir deigns to spend his time in Ephraim’s proximity rather than elsewhere. His reasons for this are entirely his own, and Ephraim has not inquired.

So begins...

Ephraim of Theren's Story