'''Name:''' Rhaim Sonderlandt
'''Age:''' 23 (Bethas 18th 2691)
'''Race:''' wick
'''Place of Origin:'''Anaxas: born somewhere along the banks of the Arova river, close to Muffey.

!!!Backstory:

Early Life

Born to Brennt Sonderlandt of the Deep Water tribe and Miyali Koorin hailing from the Muluku Islands, Rhaim developped an early love for all things to do with the Great Blue. He learned to swim before he could talk and played with toy-boats and rafts along the flowing water of Arova for many a day in his young life.
His father was a trader of spices and medicinal plants like Dinzith and the occasional secret stash of Chroven Hearts.
Sailing from Old Rose to the Mugroba mainland, the isles and back again, it was so that he met the Muluku wick healer he would court for two years before their union became a fact. They settled in Old Rose, though Miyali often pleaded to return to the islands in the years there-after.
Rhaim wanted to become a sailor from an early age. The water was like a second home to him. Secretive, but still sharing when one watched and listened close enough.
The water however, was not his only great love. The other were the arts, and the visual ones in particular. Miyali often said it was because they traveled to Muffey with their newborn son, at the time the ArtsFair was present and the sights and sounds lured him towards the life of an artisan. She hoped for her quiet, introverted son to take up the brush, instead of hoisting the sails for she often missed her husband and feared the perils of the ocean and the hard life of sailors. That, and the long arm of the Bad Brothers.
Rhaim sketched with charcoal on walls and streets, or in a game of tag, practised quick impressions drawn in the sands that would soon regain their pristine smoothness by a single wash of waves.
When he was seven he encountered a small band of human and wick children at the docks he regonized from the streets but who had shunned him on previous occasions. They had caught a large Sarpuni fish. Useless in the fact that the species was inedible and their strong, spiked bodies inflicted wounds easily, it was a sore sight to any fisherman. The self-appointed leader was angry, as it tore at the net he had only just finished this morning. He told Rhaim to kill the fish to earn a place in their band.
The young wick's desire to have friends clashed heavily with his deep sense of morality and religion. He abided, feeling awkward and even evil as he tried to kill the unlucky fish and finally succeeded with quite a few gashes on his right arm. Rhaim stood silent as he watched the river flowing out into the ocean, taking a broken and bleeding little body with him that had been killed for no reason other than spite.
For all intend and purpose, the companionship lasted only a day, for when Rhaim came home he found his mother crying at the table. The sea had swallowed his father and dragged him down. He would never come home again.
Fearing to have angered Hulali with his brutal act he believed it was his punishment the Water God took his father from him in an act of vengeance. He no longer turned to the sea, or wished a life on water. Like his mother had hoped, canvas became a surface for paint, not wind, as he took up the brush and started on the road to a new life.

Apprentice

He became the apprentice of an excentric wick artist. Though Garibald Redwick (noted, obviously, for his vibrant red hair) was by far not the most accomplished of painters, he had a vast knowledge about many things acqainted with it. He new all about materials, how to make them, and, how to acquire the materials and tools needed to make them. He could talk endlessly about pigments, and how to create the best of varnishes and how to make a stove that burned like an inferno. His lessons existed mostly out of experiments. He'd task Rhaim to find a plant that would increase resistance or decrease drying time and then conduct a series of experiments with Rhaim's finds who watched wide-eyed and full of anticipation.
Rhaim quickly found out that water, in spite of having a damaged 'relationship' with it, was still his favourite subject to paint. Infatuated by the mysteries of its vast solid darkness as a mass and its breathtaking transparency as a single drop.
When Garibald came under unwanted attention by the rumours that he not only dabbled in arts that concerned paint, he sent Rhaim to his human friend and fellow artisan, Rugard Sithin.
Rugard was not a painter, however, but a wood sculptor and carver who valued hard work and who had looked at Garibald's experiments amiably, but had also often shook his head at his antics. He created many of the fine figureheads that graced the ships' bows, sailing in and out of the port-city. Though Rhaim missed the cheerful Garibald and his mother was worried he would now not learn quickly enough to provide for himself with trades only half-learned, Rhaim enjoyed being at the scupltors workplace. In contary to his former master, Rugard knew of little else beside his craft, but therefore, had become a master of his trade. Rhaim loved the beautiful, massive oakwood scupltures Rugard worked so long and hard on and he soon realized he loved sculpting as much as he loved painting. Though his wick-blood made him less fit for the heavy, hard work, the thought of his sculptures roaming the sea with a ship somehow comforted him when he thought of his father and a life he would now never lead.


The Galdori Pictures

When Rhaim was a young man, about 13 years, he started drawing pictures that ridiculed the much hated galdori. Caricatures that told of their arrogance, vanity, self-proclaimed supremacy and tirannic rule.
He kept them in a little leather-bound book, not showing them to anyone. The jokes and accusations became more satirical, sharper, the drawings a mocking of their representation with every sure line as he grew older.
Faith or misfortune found him when he was about to turn 16. On the road to Muffey, he somehow lost the booklet. Searching frantically for it everywhere he had to conclude at the end of the day, that it was lost. Though he had never been stupid enough to include his name or names or pictures of those who could be readily identified in his near vicimity, it did frighten him. And though its comical style held nothing to his painting hand that portrayed a sense of the near ethereal, he would always be haunted by the knowledge that it was out there, and could fall into anyone's hands. The wrong hands, which, in turn, could find hím.


Death and the Maiden

In his sixteenth year he fell madly in love with a hatter's daughter, Marieke. She was a few years older than him and betrothed to a miller's son. She was cheerful and kind, and every day a smile graced her face and a pink blush tinted her cheeks. Maybe it was true, maybe he needed the distraction for his mother left the house less and less and her health detoriated quickly. A cough anchored itself in her body that even her healing spells could not drive out and her hair and skin became dull and lacklustre. Though the young wick did everything he could for her, he still took to staring out of his window dreamily for long periods of time. Rhaim, being the shy kind of wick, as unusual as that often was and very aware of his own age, observed Marieke from a distance and decided to paint her in a strange effort to keep her close to him though he told himself it was a wedding present. But no matter how he tried, he could not capture her smile or radiance. Time and time again, he found he painted a sad face. A smile holding grief beneath the gently tilted corners of her lips. The glitter of her eyes that came out of a casting shadow that held a secret. The harder he tried, and the more he looked at her, the sadder his painting became.
Marieke was suprised when Rhaim stepped into the shop one morning to wish her well on the wedding that would soon take place as he found it the least he could do. Accidentally he blurted out he had wanted to give her a painting as a present, but that he had failed in his attempt as it was not fit for the happy occasion.
Marieke insisted he show it to her however, and preservering in her request, Rhaim eventually did. Inviting her to his house and lifting the cloth off of the canvas with a frown he stared at his own work and then at the ground, uncomfortable.
He only looked up when Marieke raised her trembling hand gingerly and Rhaim saw the tears streamed down her face. Baffled, he could only stare at her wide-eyed and mouth agape.
"How did you know?" she asked barely audible. Rhaim did not get to answer that question for she stormed out of the room and out of the house, hiding her face all the way home.
When their eyes met in the future, it was fleeting, but Rhaim could not escape the pain in her eyes he had seen so clearly that day and now always shone through.
Miyali pressured him to learn as much as he could from Rugard, who had no sons, so he could take over the business in the future. She told him to give up painting, if it meant he could become an accomplished sculptor. With Marieke's portrait under his arm Rhaim went to Garibald, whom he had not seen in a while to ask him for advice. The wick painter now looked skinny and gaunt. His painting hand had been cut off entirely, and the bandage was bloodied and dirty as the wick's spells held not enough power to truly speed up the healing process. He told Rhaim it had been an accident, but the boy knew better. He had also come to suspect it had not been Hulali's wrath that had killed his father so many years earlier.
Showing him the painting Garibald smiled and told him he could not teach him anything he would not find out on his own. "You have the Eye of the Painter, Rhaim." he said appreciating. Rhaim looked at him quietly, thinking that he was, after all, a painter, so that it was not unusual, whatever it was that Garibald meant.
"They did not just take your hand, did they?" He asked as he covered Marieke's tragic gaze in cloth again. Garibald laughed a mirthless laugh as if he had just proved his point.

But that miserable year was not over yet. Miyali started to shun the sunlight as it pained her eyes. For a creature once bathed in sunlight on the Muluku islands, Rhaim could only begin to think what her confining to darkness meant to her. Soon she was in constant pain and no longer able to provide any small bit of comfort by her own healing spells.
Rhaim did what he could but he was not as powerful as his mother who's proffesion had been the aid of ailments. Instead Miyali ordered him to pray and strenghten his own constitution, that whatever it was that plagued her, would not kill her only son as well. Rhaim planted candles in the room and read stories to her. Trying to bring whatever relief possible. When delirium started to take her over as fevers tore at her body she often cried out his name in panic and then Brennt's forgetting he had died a decade ago. Visions plagued her and Rhaim hardly dared leave the room as he knew he was waiting for the darkness to take his mother away. He started a painting of his father by the dim light. Painted him as if the room, candlelight flooding over the side of his wind-whipped face. His smile caring and soothing and his eyes reaching for her lovingly. He did not remember his face exactly, but he hoped it was enough. And it was.
In her final moments, Miyali believed her beloved Brennt had returned from his hardships at sea. Comforted by the love in his eyes and that now her son would not be left behind alone, she glided into her eternal sleep with a smile.


The road after

Fulfilling his apprenticeship at Rugard's while another took his place, Rhaim kept working for him for a few years while he painted on the side when money and time permitted.
They consisted mostly of nautical scapes and paintings with a night setting, which was rather unusual, but did garner a lot of interest. After Garibald disappeared and no investigation followed Rhaim finally grew tired of the harbour city and decided to find a tribe of Deep Water nomads to live with them for a while, if he had Rugard's blessing.
The sculptor of few words told him to stack all that he did not want to take with him in a crate at his workplace, and come back to collect it later. He did demand some correspondance, to know if all was well and told him he had been a hardworking apprentice and now a fine sculptor.
Rhaim bought a handsome horse, which he named Driest and travelled for long distances alone for the first time in his life. Living with the Deep Water tribe eventually taught him he missed his crafts too much. Crafts that benefitted much from a stable place. And though he would miss the freedom the nomadic wicks had and radiated, he knew he was too little like them too be a nomad for a lifetime succesfully.
He's now on his way to the wick festival and then hopes to open a workshop in Vienda.


!!!personality

Introverted but not necesarily reserved, Rhaim has a deep sense of religion and introspection. Calm and quiet but with a deep emotional life he does not express the typical wick outgoingness or their love of life through merry-making. He has a deep desire to 'see' people the way they truly are and tries to capture that in his paintings. Morality and justice is important to him and so is devotion and honesty. He continuously seeks to improve himself, in skill, knowledge and character.

!!!Physical Description:

Rhaim is a little taller than the average wick, and darker of skin given his mugrobi ancestry. His features are handsome: Fine, angular and straight, expressing serenity and calm with a lingering sadness. He inherited the stark blue eyes of his mother, near cobalt in colour with long black lashes. His stature a little more poised than most wicks, though the nonchalant grace of his people is still evidently present.
His hair is dark and glossy. He has bangs that fall alongside his face in locks of long hair (and a few shorter ones that fall into his face) that reach about his midsection with a carved (dark) red wooden cilinder bead at his temples, and a much smaller version near the end of the lock. The rest of his hair is short to middle-short and rather wayward. At the nape of his neck five thin tails of long hair start of which the middle one is the longest, growing shorter outward to creat a V shape. They're evenly divided and adorned by 3 red beads each.

!!!Inventory:

A large cart (recently acquired over a medium sized one to move to another city)


Weapons:

*4 throwing knifes
*Balisong (but uses it almost exclusively as a tool)
*Hidden mini stiletto

Tools of the Trade:

*Brushroll with several kinds and sizes of brushes
*Graphite/charcoal
*Quills and Ink
*Paint & pigments.
*Canvas rolls (cotton and linen)
*Basic tools set to set up stretchers etc.
*Sewing kit
*Dove wing
*Sketchbook
*Beeswax
*Glass
*Galena
*Cerussite
*Linseed oil
*Poppy seed oil (from Shotha poppies, best qualilty result, but it's hard to come by)
*Resin
*Rabbit bones and glue
*Goose quills (for ferrules)
*Marten and squirrel hair.
(Most of these are to create brushes, oilpaints, turpentine, gesso and varnishes.)
*Mallet
*Chisels of various size and kind (Gouge, sweep, veiner etc)

Clothes:

* A long cobalt blue coat (between a tunic and a trench) A little longer at the back than in the front. It is adorned with 'gold'thread in a thick bane that follows the

shoulder and arm and down over his sides. At the end is a red feather attached to each side. Gold stitching is also present at the outer hems, but much thinner and less

elaborate. The sleeves are detachable (but it's a bit of a hassle, so he only does it for the turns of the seasons)
* a simple working coat.
* a few simple White cotton shirts.
* a few simple black cotton slacks
* one blue linen shirt
* one white pair of slacks.
* Black boots
* Dark red fingerless gloves

Usual stuff:

*A pitifully worn copy of the Spoke's Almanac. It misses quite a few pages.
*Animal trap (for rabbits, squirrels and marters mainly)
*Bedroll & small tent
*Flint and Tinder
*Some basic items used for cooking.
*Lantern and candles
*A few small paintings
*A few small reliefs and figurines

Unusual stuff:

*Ornamental ear-piece that looks like a bat-wing, covering most of his right ear. Unseen to the eye, it harbours three lockpicks and a mini stiletto. The outerwork is a bit crude, at Rhaim's request as not to make it look too aesthetically pleasing and therefore drawing attention. When turning one of the 'bones' it unlocks and Rhaim can pull out the lockpick of his choosing or the mini-blade. He mainly has it to increase chances of escape, should he find himself in an unfortunate situation, rather than thieving practises.


Pets

* Dei-Luhn, a small, fine featured female Osta. (normal colour)
* Driest, a 'black' horse with heavy, wavy mane and bushy tail. His long 'feathers' (long hair on the lower legs) are left untrimmed. Not too tall, but with a powerful albeit

graceful build and fierce, proud step. (reference: Friesian horse) Rhaim also uses the silky, straight tips of it's feathers to create mop brushes.


!!!Career

Artisan - Painter/sculptor

*Will most likely become an expert colourist (His main forte)
*Good at woodworking. Experience exists mostly out of creating figureheads and ornamental reliefs.
*Highly sensitive to nuance and subtleties. Very observing.
*Knowlegeable of symbols, metaphors and religion.
*Knows how to make of his own needs as a painter himself: brushes, gesso, turpentine, varnish, paper etc.

Other skills:

*Lockpicking (definately not very proficient, takes quite a lot of time)
*Dancing & Singing (His voice is pleasant to listen to, but he does not have the range or skill of a proffesional singer by far)
*Can play several instruments (basic to mediocre) for typical wick music. The flute is his favourite and what he's best at.
*Good at fishing and swimming.
*Not very good at combat. He rather avoids it.

Magic: (level 1)

*Minor Heal
*Light
*Dark
*Matches
*Gust
*Balance
*Lift:
*Ghost Sounds
*Push/Pull
*Purify

Tricks: (level 1)

*Dodge
*Lockpicking


!!!Goals

*Quite simply, to become the greatest painter and/or sculptor Anaxas has ever seen. To have both the poorman and the prominent hang his paintings on the wall and have his sculptures grace town squares, beautiful gardens and majestic ships.
*He would like to see the galdori fall from their false throne.
*He currently travels to the wick fFestival with his belongings and then travels to Vienda in hope to set up a small workplace and shop there.




NOTES:

I came up with the Sarpuni Fish for the story. A type of predatory, armoured fish that lives in salt and brackish waters. Let me know if this is not ok, or if you want me to elaborate on it.



Please note I'm not a native English speaker. I do not have an English spell-checker, and I might make common mistakes. I apologize in advance and hope all of you can help me

improve. Feel free to point out any grammar or spelling anomalies, especially if you notice specific ones that occur on a regular basis ^_^; You'd be doing me a huge favour!

Hi Rhaim!

Wow. First of all, I thoroughly enjoyed reading that backstory. It was a fantastic story, told very well, with great description. I can tell you put a ton of thought and care into this character already. I love the names you came up with, including the name of the fish, which I'll be happy to include in the world.

I also had no idea you weren't a native english speaker. I didn't see any spelling mistakes

I'm going to go ahead and approve this sheet! Congrats, and welcome to Thorns.

Oh, I forgot to mention something. I need to change your username to Rhaim Sonderlandt. Whenever you reply to this thread, I'll go ahead and change it so you can relog.

Thank you! ^_^ I'm glad you liked it.

Go right ahead

Yay! Welcome to Thorns!

Thanks! and thank you for bringing my attention to Thorns! ^_^

Freaking.....whoa!
That story is amazing! It's a really developed character. I love it!
And you're doing great for not being a native english speaker.

Thank you very much! ^_^
He's a dear character to me already

I wanted to give him a fair level of skill and backstory, just hope I didn't make it sound pretentious or too emo...heh