Tristaanian Greymoor
Main article: Yellow Pages
Name: Tristaanian Greymoor
Age: 24-26 (Roalis 29, 2688-2690)
Race: passive
Place of Origin: Muffey, Anaxas
Backstory:
Born to a professor of Physical Magic family in Muffey, Tristaan's parents were strangely suspicious of their son's magical abilities from birth. Just before his older sister's 10th birthday, his parents decided to test the magical validity of their son themselves only to confirm their fears that he was a passive. At the tender age of 8, Tristaan found himself an orphan on the streets with nothing but the clothes on his back. His parents promptly found the best way to forget their son was to lavish themselves upon their daughter. (While he may recognize his sister if he saw her, he certainly wouldn't know what to say.)
He spent much of his youth as a street urchin, ending up in Vienda's Soot District and working his way up into some factory work. He quickly discovered that picking pockets was more profitable than sweating it out in the textile business, but he was often overcome with a longing to prove himself better than a thief. Eventually, he took what little he had scrimped together and left the city, taking to the road at 16.
A caravan of Red Crow took the wandering Passive in, taught him to read, gave him some lessons in swordplay, lent him some social skills, and taught him what it meant to belong somewhere. Still, his own wanderlust kept him from becoming truly attached to his new-found family, and he found himself setting out on his own again roughly around his 22nd birthday.
For the past few years, Tristaan has found mercenary work to bring him at least a limited sense of purpose and a good amount of coin, if not some surprised looks and a few good scrapes and bruises. Driven by the same desire to prove himself worthy to parents who he'll never see again, he has found himself falling into a vigilante sort of role instead of an underground criminal. He's served on a few ships when they needed to protect some illicit, secretive cargo, hunted down a few livestock thieves, collected the reward on a handful of minor wanted persons, and the like.
However, the rumbles of unrest that's been growing in Anaxas has really began to resonate with his own feelings of lostness. He's beginning to wonder if some "criminals" aren't really in the wrong at all, especially those who talk of rebellion and social change.
Personality:
Quiet, thoughtful, but usually cheerful, Tristaan's ready smile often belies his inner turmoil. Spirited and driven by something deep and unseen, he is focused, hard-working, and slow to anger.
Growing up an orphan, mistreated as a passive, and generally dumped on by society, it's really, really hard to get on Tristaan's nerves. He's used to letting insults slide, and sometimes doesn't mind making a joke of things himself if he's confident he can take his opponent in a fight. He's not vain, but trusts in his hard-earned skills and knowledge. He exudes an eerie sense of self-confidence for a passive. He may not know his place in society as a whole, but he knows his own strength is usually enough for the day. He also enjoys the combat advantage his appearance tends to give him - he doesn't mind that most assume he's a small-framed weakling, it makes that first swing so much more fun.
Even though he grew up on the streets, he is literate, witty, and an observant learner. He has been known to spend all he earns on whatever reading material he can find, illegal or not, much to the pangs of his stomach. He's got an appreciation for a good laugh, mostly from his time traveling with Wicks. (He's also picked up most of his more colorful vocabulary from that same time ...)
He values his freedom and his decent living, for he knows there are plenty of passives who don't have either. He resents that his lack of apparent magical ability has excluded him from his own heritage, but really has no desire to be a part of a culture he now sees as corrupt and blinded by power. While he's not always sure of how to feel about humans, who share his lack of magic, he has worked beside enough to know that they desire the same things as himself. He views Wicks as better family than his own who abandoned him, and admires their free spirits. He longs to overcome his inner sense of unworthiness and experience real acceptance and freedom.
Physical Description:
Tristaan could unfortunately never hide his galdor heritage – then again, he doesn't think he'd ever really want to. His features reveal his aristocratic lineage, with high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, and a sharp chin and nose. While he is only slightly above average height, he is wirey and well-muscled. His hair is rich and black, with an almost blue undertone in the light. He keeps his mid-back length hair pulled back in a doubled-over pony tail, with a few stray strands usually finding their way in front of his face or tucked behind an ear. His eyes are a calm, steely grey, almond-shaped and with long, graceful eyelashes.
Unlike his magical relatives, he is tanned from years of living outside of noble life. He has a few scars from various fights and a difficult childhood on the streets, but nothing that seriously mars his decently rugged looks. While there was a time he enjoyed the rebellion of a full beard, he's taken to a neatly trimmed "soul patch" as sufficient as of late.
He prefers loose, wide-sleeved linen shirts, tucked into his hard leather arm bracers, and worn over a bright blue undershirt. He has a wide belt with a holster for his pistol, room for some ammo, a beltpouch for his spare coin, and a sheath over his right shoulder for his long, heavy blade. His grey leather pants are tucked into knee-high brown leather boots, both hiding a dagger. Against the elements, he wears a weathered dark leather half-cloak with a high collar that buttons up to just below eye level – always useful for hiding one's identity or keeping out the cold. A well-worn tricot hat finishes his adventurer look and serves as a perch of choice for his Whice, Smirk.
Inventory:
Rucksack -
- An extra shirt and pair of pants
- A few random books, hidden under his clothes
- Flint and tinder
- Whetstone
- Bandages and a few first aid supplies
Weapons -
- Long, two-handed sword (claymore, I suppose)
- Pistol
- Daggers, one hidden in each boot for "emergencies"
Pet -
- Smirk, a runt of a multi-colored Whice with a troublesome vocabulary, terrible timing, and fascination with stealing shiny objects
Misc -
- Bedroll
- A lovely silver pocket-watch, but it currently doesn't work ...
Spell:
Instability (Lv. 3 Perceptive), but with an area affect.
Career:
Traveling Swordsman-for-Hire
- Excellent sense of direction
- Strong swordsmanship and decent hand-to-hand
- Good aim with a pistol, but prefers close combat
- Bartering/Negotiating
- Limited first-aid, mostly from trial and error
- Tracking/Eavesdropping
Goals:
Without a true place in society, Tristaanian finds it hard to sit down and really plan out his future. Like anyone else, he wouldn't mind settling down and starting a family, but considering that's currently illegal, he'd rather stay out of prison.
He'd really just like to find his place, and if that means using his blade to fight for freedom, so be it. While he's not sure what side to take, he knows that something has to be done to change some minds. Ideally, he'd rather the changes be peacefully made through a change of heart and thinking, but he's also experienced enough personal cruelty at the hands of his own galdor people to have a lingering bit of desire for bloodshed.
One day, he'd like to see his sister again. Secretly, he wonders if she misses him and if she'd even accept him. While he's given up on his parents, he seems to hang on to the idea that she'd be somehow different, even for a galdor.