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Simon Caeronvar

This sorcerer is never encountered alone.

0 · 504 views · located in Gambit's Hotel, 2nd Floor

a character in “The Multiverse”, originally authored by Guest, as played by Nevermore90

Description

Simon Caeronvar
Age 233
Of course through age-shedding magic and amazing cosmetics, Simon looks much closer to the ages between 19-23
Eye Color: Brown

Hair/Fur color: Simon has short, brown hair, kept perfect by magic and cosmetics, like the rest of his body.

Height: 5'9"
Weight: 135ibs, give or take. Simon eats enough to keep himself healthy, but for the most part, magic substitutes actual food.
Type of body/build: Simon has an athletic build; he lacks the six-pack abs that most men strive to achieve, but he forces himself to keep active enough-on most days-to keep at least some muscle on his otherwise pathetic arms.
A band of runes wrap around Simon's left bicep. The runes are an awkward blend of elvin, gnomish, and draconic; they are faded green, brown, and black, respectively, and lock together like a complex puzzle.

Simon is a sorcerer, which is different from a wizard in one important way: Magic comes naturally to him. Whereas a sorcerer can study and practice magic to get better at it, they don't have to; by some virtue, magic just runs through them. Wizards, on the other hand, are referred to as "Book Mages" because the only way they are to cast a spell is by toiling over some ancient tomb to learn how. Simon speaks Draconic, the language in which most "Old Magic" is written; rivaled only by elves, Dragons have the longest life spans and the most magical aptitude.

Syr

Syr
Age: Syr was constructed approximately a month after Simon was born.
Height: 10 foot
Weight: 252ibs
Syr is not only stronger than a normal human, but incredibly flexible; think of him as a giant, intelligent can opener. P.S.: You're the can.
Syr's body is plates of copinium (over coat), mithral (inner shell), adamant (buffer and core), and resien. Tungsten has been run through a few places for a lightweight, cheap, but strong extra addition.
ImageImage

Personality

Simon

FAVORITES
Color: Nuthatch blue
Music: Easy-listening music; the kind of things that leave a room "busy" but not distracting. You might drum your fingers along, but you'd never see it in a party.
Food: Oatmeal
Genre: High fantasy; Simon has to get his inspiration from somewhere.
Book: Of Golems and Men
Quote: "Why do you keep looking at the ceiling? You look like a giant spider is going to attack you."
"One is."


ATTITUDE

Philosophy: "Magic isn't a gift; it's a normal part of life. It isn't a curse; it's no more evil than a tree. It doesn't come from gods; you can find it in even the most undieted realms of existence. The fact that I have it is no more impressive than how good you are at, say, football. Magic isn't any more of a weapon than it is a tool; for every fireball, lightning bolt, or acid splash, there's something utilitarian, from flying to burrowing."

PERSONALITY
Simon is sympathetic to intelligent the creations of magic, from thinking swords to living constructs. There are also such things as "Living spells," spells that have, literally, taken on life. Most are considered unintelligent; they just attack everything and everyone. Simon, however, knows their plight; they feel pain like any human does, and, though immune to to themselves, cause themselves immense damage; a living fireball is always burning itself, but can't kill itself. Imagine being stabbed over and over and over, but not bleeding.
Short of talking to magic items, Simon does not feel this weakness is obvious.
Simon is very patient but not always incredibly gentle. There is a certain amount of recklessness that follows being able to set things on fire with a few words and intricate hand gestures; it is lucky for everyone in general that Simon learned control early.

Which of the 7 deadly sins does character show?
Pride
Which of the 7 virtues does your character have?
Patience


TRAITS

Optimist or pessimist? Pessimist
Introvert or extrovert? Extrovert
Good characteristics: Simon is patient and shows considerable self-control. He doesn't often give into random impulses and likes to think things out before setting into action.
Character flaws: Slow and steady doesn't always win the race; plotting out terminal velocity doesn't win football.
Mannerisms: Simon will randomly act out the gesture related to a particular spell for practice.



SELF-PERCEPTION

One word character would use to describe self: Original

GENERAL

Jewelry/ other accessories? Ring of chameleon/Ring of elemental command (fire)
Spending habits: Frugal/[Spendthrift]
Any pets? Depends on whether you call Syr a pet or not.

Syr



Which of the 7 deadly sins does character show?
Wrath
Which of the 7 virtues does your character have?
Diligence


TRAITS

Optimist or pessimist? Optimist
Introvert or extrovert? Extrovert

Equipment

Books

The Encyclopedia of Enchantment
Remedial Black Magic
Necromancy for Dummies
Glamour Catalogue
A journymen's Theology and Theurgy
Abjurations, A history
Revised Transfigurations
Summoning for the Inept
Wizards Essential
Mixing Alchemy: Like a DJ I, Like a DJ II, and Like a DJ IV
Magic and Military, recent history
Dark Arts III
The Encyclopedia of Sorcery
A Guide for Beginners: High Magic, High Alchemy
Magic: The Innovative and Domestic
Treatise of Evocation
The Utilitarian
Peacetime Applications: Divine to Arcane
Arcane Vs. Divine: Why playing a Cleric Sucks
Illusion for Beginners
Bestiary of the Mundane
Bestiary of the Arcane
Bestiary of the Divine
Bestiary: Men of Two-legs
Bestiary: Quadrupeds or More
A Memior
Of Slimes and Men
Of Golems and Men
Illusions for Idiots
Divination for Dummies
Alchemy for the Absent-minded
Necromancy for Nitwits

Of course these all have to be held somewhere; Simon keeps his most important (and reasonably sized) items in a Bag of Holding, a bag that leads to an multidimensional space that can hold a finite amount of items, determined by weight rather than size. No matter what is in it, so long as it fails to exceed the limit, weighs only five pounds.

Image

Potions:

Healing
The substance is amethyst-colored, with indigo accretions running along the top and sides. It smells and tastes like grass and almonds.

Etherealness
The liquid is nearly translucent; it's hard to tell, but it is colored a pale pink and topaz combination.

Repair
Slimy, pink, and distorted by gray bubbles that constantly erupt.

Physical Equipment:

Image As useless as they are, Simon keeps a sword on himself; they're cool, aren't they?

Image

General outfit:
Image Simon knows it looks more like a pirate's coat than something modern, but its warm and its protective while remaining nonrestrictive. Its outside is a heavy-enough fabric to retain heat while the inside is thin silk to keep it comfortable. He also wears boots with narrow, flexible, rubber soles, which are good for running, not that he does so often.

===

Syr

Image
Image

So begins...

Simon Caeronvar's Story

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#, as written by Guest
Simon Caeronvar pushed the bar doors open. Though the rain wasn't a problem-from what he wore to the hulking automaton behind him, he had perfect cover-he did detest it. The bright, neon signs of the bar had drawn his attention on more than one occasion; from what he heard of it, it would be a good hub of activity. Someone might expect a dojo, school,or actual, proffesional facility as a center of training, but this place had seen enough demons, devils, angels, dragons, wizards, cyborgs, zombies, half-zombies, sparkling vampires, and et cetera often enough that there had to be something to be learned here.
With a sigh of disgust directed at Nevermore90's inability to type up a better entrance, Simon and his companion silently found seats in a rear corner of the bar. He tapped in an order for himself-Syr didn't eat-and reached into his magical bag of holding. He pulled out one of his many books and, after flipping to a page seemingly at random, started reading.

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#, as written by Guest
Simon Caeronvar read silently for a few minutes. Syr, his hulking construct companion, bundled up into its normal rest mode and laid down by the table; the acidic rain outside did minimal damage, but it was better safe than sorry. Simon removed his mask and put his hood down, careful not to splash any water onto the crumbling, yellowed pages of his book.

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#, as written by Guest
Simon Caeronvar started flicking his left hand back and forth and mumbled stuff under his breath. His right hand had its index finger extended, trailing just under the words he was reading. He repeated it, out loud; from his out stretched left hand, a ball of fire the size of his fist erupted and shot across the bar, threatening to singe anyone-but not seriously injure-in the way. "Sorry!"

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Simon Caeronvar pushed the bar door open, or rather, stood in front of it and let it be opened for him; Syr didn't let Simon do much physically, nowadays. Not after the run-in with that mimic. Nasty bugger.
Syr, the 10-foot construct companion and aide to Simon, walked on Simon's heels as he found a silent corner in the back of the parlor. He typed in an order for himself-Syr didn't eat-of oatmeal and chocolate milk. He may be a grown man, but he had a child's spending habits. Syr assumed his neutral rest position; he pulled his legs up to his hollow chest cavity and hunkered down next to Simon's booth, aware but silent as death.
From the inside of his trusty bag-of-holding, Simon pulled out a book at random and flipped to a book-marked page.

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Simon Caeronvar looked up when someone stumbled there way to a seat. He moved one of his fingers around-his index in a sort of helicopter twirl-and mumbled something under his breath, causing a chair to get pulled out in front of her. He also pulled the pillow seat off and placed it where he hoped she would land, but magic and gravity weren't exact sciences.

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Simon Caeronvar watched her intently, only to feel like an idiot when he realized she was blind-as far as he knew. "Syr, go assist her." The giant manservant drew up to its full height and made its way over to Aisling. He lifted up her chair in his powerful upper arms without preamble, seating her gently behind a table. Simon tapped in an order for a cupcake, hopefully to make up for the trouble.

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Simon Caeronvar stood up and quickly formulated an excuse. The magical construct that reflected heat left to retrieve the book Simon had so casually forgotten. He slid into the seat directly across and tried to look apologetic. "I'm sorry, er, ma'am; I'm still rather new at this whole magic thing." Though that was a lie, it was still a feasible excuse to say he made a mistake; Simon was far from being anything close to a master of the arcane arts.

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Simon Caeronvar noted the girl's questions, as they confirmed his guess about her being blind. "I was trying a telekinesis spell and brought the chair out in front of you. I'm really sorry about that. I had Syr move you to a proper table and-" the cupcake, along with Simon's food, arrived-"ordered you a cupcake."

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Simon Caeronvar smiled. "You like cupcakes, then? I thought it would make up for your potentially bruised shins." Syr hunkered down next to them. When she brought up "Heat signatures," he thought of snakes and their infra-vision (or, more accurately, heat sense}. He covered Syr in a spell referred to in the PBH as "Faerie Fire," coating it both in violet light and making him heat up. Syr's position, however, would make him seem like a five-foot rock more than anything. "Syr is the giant creature seated beside you."

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Simon Caeronvar sighed. "Would you prefer some oatmeal or chocolate milk? I've got to do *something* to make up for my rude attempt at magic." He took the spell off of Syr, who would disappear like a ghost from her vision. "I don't feel like my apology means much otherwise."

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Simon Caeronvar immediately tapped in an order for tofu and took a spoonful of oatmeal for himself. "I took the spell off of him." He considered her offer and nodded, though the movement would be lost on her. "I wouldn't mind. I'm Simon, by the way. Simon Caeronvar."

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Simon Caeronvar extended his hand and shook hers. "Yes, a spell. I am a sorcerer, you see; I put a spell on him that would make his otherwise frigid body appear on the infrared spectrum. I wished to make you aware of his presence."

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looked down at Syr. "'e's not an organic; he comprised entirely of metal and magic." Syr stirred when he name was called, but quickly went back to "Sleep." Simon noticed her hesitation to shaking and quickly pulled his hand back. "I'm sorry, do people shake hands differently where you come from? I'm not... I don't usually do... eh... hand-shaking. Reading too often."

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Simon Caeronvar looked back at her. "Oh, you, 'eh, want me to kiss your hand, then? I'm just not accustomed to... Yes, I do read. Often. It comes with learning magic and all that pizazz." "Like... he's made of different kinds of metal, which are all enchanted and infused with... eh... something or another. I never understood homunculuses, so golems aren't my domain."

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extended his hand again, and ignored the pizazz comment. "He's one-hundred-percent solid, mind you; not a single weak point on his body. His natural weapons-claws-are made of metal better able to hold an edge while his chest is made of plates able to take on a tank. It's all use-over-material. Besides: He would look disgusting if he was all one color." And of course she couldn't see.

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Simon Caeronvar graciously accepted her hand and kissed halfway down the fingers like someone would expect a gentlemen to. He let go and pulled his arm back, taking his second spoonful of oatmeal. Didn't seam like he was going to be finished his meal quickly. "It is Terra; I'm sure there's some giant armada of construct-vaporizing, hyper-intelligent, naga-cannons or something somewhere around here. And he's my servant, protector, and companion. He's been with me since I was just a few weeks old. Of course mom dealt with... mother stuff... He can rip most thins in half, but he rarely needs to." Simon noted that "dot dot dots" were, in fact, ellipses. "I'm sorry."

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Simon Caeronvar smiled when her tail started thrashing. He hoped this meant he was doing well. "'Eh, you're welcome?" He took a sip of chocolate milk. "Probably a lot. I've seen some ridiculous things." He looked down at Syr again, putting his drink down. His innateness to the latter task made him almost send it over the edge of the table. "Yes. Eh, brief childhood? Er no no it wasn't like a dad. It was like a really loyal, smart dog that could telepathically communicate and throw cars. And, eh, motherly stuff... like feeding, nursing, husbandry... generally care."

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Simon Caeronvar pushed the bar doors open. Though the rain wasn't a problem-from what he wore to the hulking automaton behind him, he had perfect cover-he did detest it. The bright, neon signs of the bar had drawn his attention on more than one occasion; from what he heard of it, it would be a good hub of activity. Someone might expect a dojo, school,or actual, proffesional facility as a center of training, but this place had seen enough demons, devils, angels, dragons, wizards, cyborgs, zombies, half-zombies, sparkling vampires, and et cetera often enough that there had to be something to be learned here.
With a sigh of disgust directed at Nevermore90's inability to type up a better entrance, Simon and his companion silently found seats in a rear corner of the bar. He tapped in an order for himself-Syr didn't eat-and reached into his magical bag of holding. He pulled out one of his many books and, after flipping to a page seemingly at random, started reading.

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Simon Caeronvar mouthed the words-well, sounds; the cryptic runes didn't properly translate into any "word" anyone in here had ever heard, most likely-and twiddled one of his fingers absent-mindedly. His left index finger rapped against the table top, then flicked up and turn to the side as he softly chanted the words to a weak telekinesis spell dubbed "Magic fingers." Without him realizing it, the ebbs of his spell reached out like invisible tendrils and snaked there way around Rahne Valion's chair, at first tugging lightly but then trying to completely uproot her. All of this was with a casual incident; Simon's magic would have been more powerful given his full attention. He never admitted that, though; pride wasn't his biggest flaw. Unlike most people that frequented this bar.

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Simon Caeronvar looked up as the chair was flung clear across the room. He mumbled a "Dammit," along with a few more obscene curses, and offered an apology for the second time. He had been in here twice, and so far had ruined two peoples' times. "Sorry!" He called from across the bar, shutting his book and sliding it back into his magical bag. With luck, she hadn't heard him; his attempt to apologize was enough in his mind.

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Simon Caeronvar was momentarily confused by her nonviolent reaction. Most people would have-attempted to-smashed him into tiny bits. He offered an awkward grin. "That one gave me a splinter last time. 'e deserved it. 'Eh, I'm sorry for disturbing your..." he looked out the nearest window. "...day."

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Simon Caeronvar nodded. "I do my best." His smile gradually grew less indecent. "Eh, can I make up for the inconvenience to yourself, madame? I hear they serve good cupcakes here." Last time he accidentally threw a chair, buying a cupcake worked smooths things over. Why not try it twice?

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Simon Caeronvar stood up. At the same time, Syr, the hulking construct that accompanied him everyone, drew up to its full height: 10 feet. It unfolded its four arms and stretched out its legs, then wordlessly fell into step behind Simon. As large as it was, Syr moved like a shadow.
"What flavor?" Simon slid into one of the bar stool seats, leaving the one closest to her vacant, and brought up the ordering prompt. He realized he hadn't ordered himself any food-Syr needed nothing-and thus tapped in an order for oatmeal and chocolate milk before she answered. Syr folded himself back down, assuming the rest position. "Don't mind Syr. He wouldn't hurt a fly." That was a drastic understatement.

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Simon Caeronvar tapped in chocolate and noted her stutter. "He's harmless. I promise. Eh, just... don't poke him. He doesn't like being poked. Right Syr?"
Syr looked up at Simon. Simon smiled and nodded; their communication was telepathic, as Syr possessed no mouth. "He won't hurt you. Eh, do you want sprinkles?" Simon deftly swung the holographic display around. "There are plenty of options here."

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Simon Caeronvar added sprinkles, frosting that wasn't too sweet or bitter,a glass of milk, an brownie crumbs. He wondered if idle conversation would fill the void between now and its arrival. "Eh, I'm Simon by the way. Simon Caeronvar." He turned and extended a hand to shake.