Arken Rennatta
From Valwiki
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| Player: | Arken | |
| Title: | Dragoon | |
| Alias: | I'Cartel Ereg | |
| Age: | 92 | |
| Race: | Human / Abyssal | |
| Eye Colour: | Blue. | |
| Hair: | Silver, shoulder length and kept respectable. | |
| Skin Tone: | Pale. | |
| Height: | 6'4". | |
| Weight: | 200 lbs. | |
| Alignment: | Chaotic Good. | |
Contents |
Personality
Arken has lived a very long, and at times, very complicated life. The periods of his life are as varied as they are numerous, which is to be expected when travels through the pages of history for so long. He's been a child in a world of privilege, an orphan, a soldier and noble by his own hand, a sadistic murderer, a Dragoon, and an outcast. Every stage in his life has built or worn away at his personality in different ways, helping to mold a malleable young man into the creature that he is today. There are many layers to his personality and psyche, conflicting emotions and teachings that force his moral compass to pitch one way then the next, but that just makes the people close to him all the more important, to keep him grounded. Without people, Arken would be sealed in a glass case labeled "Break in case of cataclysm."
Where once there was a very playful and naive youth, now stands a man with a lot of hard living under his belt. The scars he's accumulated over the years, be they physical or mental, all serve to temper his view of the world. What is evil? What is good? These questions may be easy to answer for a young man, someone who hasn't lived long enough to compromise his morals, or seen others compromise their own. It all gets muddy in the middle. How can a man who murders to feed his children be judged so quickly? How can a pious man who beats his wife be praised? Arken tries not to meddle in the concepts of good or evil, and instead tries to deal with matters as they arise. Some would call him jaded or callous towards the suffering of his fellow man, but Arken would simply smile at the suggestion.
Arken had often been described in his twilight years as having a seriousness to him, some even going so far as to call him brooding. It was undeniable, as it was something he noticed in himself far too often. After living a century in such a world, he felt himself suffocating under the weight of his choices, and doubting them constantly. Was this the life he was supposed to live? Was this the life he was destined to carry on? Self loathing and self doubt can sour even the most joyous people. But this has given way in the past few years. There has been a reconciliation with himself, and once again Arken has become comfortable in his own skin. The jokes and the playfulness isn't so much a mask as it had been, but instead it's a bit of the young man he used to be shining through. Young at heart, as it were.
Assets & Equipment
Most of Arken's treasured possessions are, as funny as it sounds, clothing. When first leaving his home in Taron, there were two items on his person worth mentioning. The first is a pair of glasses. Their frame was flexible and made of tin, polished to shimmer like pure silver. The glass was rounded to match the shape of a man's eye, and when looking through them one would find the world draped in a thick molasses of crimson. The glasses themselves have been entirely destroyed on more than one occasion, as it's hard to keep them intact when one's profession is getting punched in the face. In those early days it was quite hard to find a craftsmen capable of patching them back together, needing both skill in crafting thin and flexible metal fibers as well as glass working. Thankfully, such trades have become more and more common place over the years, and their upkeep is tended to regularly.
There is a purpose to their use, despite the claims of others about his vanity. There have been many occasions where a sudden flash of glistening steel could have dazzled him, or sudden mote of dust could have blinded him momentarily. These instances would have spelled certain death, if not for the simple bit of glass he wears over his eyes. They are unassuming, and perhaps a bit goofy looking, which makes their application all the more potent.
The other item he brought was a heavy leather coat that wrapped around his broad shoulders and hung down his lean frame rather nicely. It's served him well over the years, keeping him warm and dry despite the weather. It's fit was loose and flexible, easily conforming to his body through acrobatic displays but still offering sound protection to slashing and crushing blows. It could be argued that the crimson coat is his most noticeable feature, an idea that always amused Arken. Recognition in his trade is both a blessing and a curse. Standing out and having a presence that can be recalled quickly often leads to job opportunities, but also makes it different to go unnoticed. Regardless, he wears it as proudly as ever, even though it's suffered through cuts, gouges, rips and burns. Most have been stitched and patched by a local seamstress' many times over the years.
He's made several additions to his ensembles since first leaving Taron, such as adopting a long sleeved black silk shirt under a button up leather vest, coloured to match his jacket. His trousers are plain and dark coloured, held up by a simple belt which sports a large golden buckle. His boots rise to just under the knee and are made of tough and reliable leathers, good for keeping his feet dry no matter the muck he might be wading through. On his right knee resides a brace of blue metal, with straps clutching his knee and thigh with a desperate tightness. Overall, his attire gave him a respectable look, something his clientele often appreciated when discretion was required when moving amongst those people of means.
Arken has used and mastered many different weapons during his life. First came the tried and true longsword, then branching out to learn how to wield a pair of them with great proficiency. His interests were fickle when it came to instruments of death, wavering between the heft of broadswords, then versatility of spears and bo staffs, and even dabbling in the world of long range weapons for a time. But all of them felt.. weak in his hands, as if the weapons themselves did not suit his form of combat. He was direct to the point, wanting to overwhelm with one quick application of power. It wasn't until Arken returned to his childhood home of Taron, to claim his father's claymore, that he found a weapon more suited to his tastes. The blade was dull and chipped, but he spent several days working with smiths to return it to it's former glory.
The blade was put to good use during Arken's life as a Tel'Mithrim Knight of Valikorlia, cutting down many men in the old wars. But it wasn't long before Arken's allegiances changed, and soon the soldier aspired to greater things, and was soon introduced to the Dragoon order. Through his service and loyalty, Arken earned a boon from the Dragon God Draco himself, reforging the blade, turning it into a masterpiece worthy of Arken's stature in society. On one face of the blade is an etching of a dragon crawling over the cross guard, with the other side depicting his families heraldic animal, namely a bull rearing back on its hind hooves. It was a turning point in Arken's life, and it only made sense to him that the blade's name should be 'Rebirth.'
His exploits also had Arken working with the elven kingdom of Asca Dagnir many times, and his work was recognized by their King on several occasions until finally he was rewarded with a finely crafted dagger. It was a symbol of friendship between the Dragoon and the elven people, and it is something Arken still carries and puts to good use. The blade was swept in a long curve that made it ideal for slashing or throwing, and imbedded in the steel were silver fibers that acted like veins, giving the blade an extra use for creatures susceptible to such things.
Arken's only magical item is something that he keeps close to him at all times. Few would be able to guess what it is, as most assume that small silver flask he is often seen sipping from is a simple container to hide his hooch. In fact, the flask was crafted by an Empyrian water mage many generations ago, and through Arken's deeds during the great flood, he found himself with the item. It offers up a never ending supply of cold, fresh water that may be enjoyed at any time without restriction. It is known as the Vortex Flask.
Abilities / Skills
Dragoon Training: The training of the Dragoon has reached a kind of legendary status amongst the peoples of Kharlia, from sea to sea. This is not without good reason, as practitioners of their arts have often become famed heroes, or in some cases, infamous tyrants. Where Arken sits between these two extremes is often debated. While these arts are not considered secrets, as many of their training routines and views on philosophy are immortalized on parchment throughout the world, their application is still guarded and reserved. Few undergo the training, and less and less do each year.
The training is designed to be brutal, but not for cruelties sake. In combat, a single misstep, a single fall, or a single lapse in concentration can mean death. The body and the mind must be pushed to their limits, and discipline maintained. The movements of a sword, the steps in throwing spears long distances, and the breathing to control an arrow's path must all become reflex. Hesitation kills, or at the very least, maims. A fact Arken can attest to quite readily.
Amongst the physical training is also sprinkled lessons on philosophy, diplomacy, and poetry. Dragoons must not only fight to protect the world and their charges, but they must live in it, understand the beauties that might one day be the very reason for them to lay down their lives, and they must be compelling reasons. This training also makes them learned men in some sense, and many Dragoons have been known for their wisdom, and were often called upon to mediate disputes between kingdoms or to advise monarchs. Arken had never reached such levels of enlightenment, either due to poor teachers or him being a poor student. Though, he has often been considered wise in a practical sense. "Beer before liquor, get drunk quicker."
While the physical and mental routines can be admired separately or as a whole, they are truly incomplete without a spiritual foundation. Dragoons are taught to understand the relationship between the deities, the forces of good, evil, and neutrality that balance the world. It helps them understand their purpose within the order of the world. These teachings helped Arken understand his place in the grand design, how he could best serve what he was taught to believe, and where it fit on his own moral compass.
These teachings, in conjunction with the other pillars of Dragoon training, eventually lead to the awakening of an inner strength. A force of will power that can be summoned up on command and applied in various ways. The famed Dragoon Jump is an example of which, or the Dragoon Dash. These abilities were also mastered by Arken, and through his years, he has expanded upon them to include a much wider variety in his bag of tricks.
Unarmed Combatant: Arken was not born with a sword in one hand and a training manual in the other, he entered the world unarmed. The scar tissue on his knuckles and his sturdy muscles had to be earned, as his body was the only weapon available to him for many years, well before he fell into the hands of the Dragoon. Without a learned instructor on the matter, he did what came naturally to him (usually in a tavern setting). Grappling, jabs, uppercuts and knees. He was a scrapper and a brawler, fighting with practicality in mind over style and grace.
This skill served him well for many years, being accredited to how he lived for as long as he did, but it was unrefined and rough. He didn't know why one should bob and weave, to balance on the balls of the feet rather than the heel, it was simply instinct. Through his training with the Dragoon, Arken was exposed to different techniques and styles, each with their own strengths and disadvantages. After drifting between different martial schools, Arken finally found a discipline in line with his natural tendencies- Dragon Boxing, or Darastrix Dridir. It was an elementary way of fighting, favoring substance over style.
Considered brutal for it's extensive use of elbow and knee striking, as well as full body throws and it's exploration of limb breaking. Obviously, it was right up Arken's alley.
Draconic: While it is true that those infused with the spirit of a Dragon can often communicate through thoughts and emotions with others of their kind, there is still a verbal, spoken language that the Dragons speak, complete with it's own structure and grammatical rules- known as Draconic. It is an old language, perhaps the first ever to be spoken by mortals, but it is still within the range of a human mind to understand, much like the tongue of elves or dwarves. It took Arken many years to master the language, but he has come to perfect it. While he gets little use out of such a skill, it still spices up his vocabulary during a fit of curses.
Elven: Arken has traveled almost to every corner of the globe during his long life, a hermit of sorts, coming to settle with people only during times of great peace or abundant employment. More often than not this put him in the lands of man, complete with their familiar culture and background. This wasn't where he liked to be, though. Elves always fascinated the Dragoon, with their natural beauty, their spartan culture, and their harmony with the world. While many notions of elves were embellishments in children stories, he found enough of it was based in fact for him to truly admire their sensibilities.
Through the decades he's made many forays into their settlements in search of adventure and work, and was made richer for the experiences, often finding allies and employment within their boarders. But, it was never a true requirement for him to learn their language, as the elves themselves were almost always well versed in common. That changed, however, when the Dragoon met Pamina Calidon, a woman of elvish ancestry. She often teased him with the language that was so alien to him, until finally tutoring him over many years. While it is not a dialect Arken has mastered, he is still fluent in it, speaking with a noticeable Ascan accent.
Riding: Horseback riding is a fundamental skill for any person to learn in the age that Arken lives in, and it was no different for him. It started at an early age with him being introduced to geldings and even-tempered mares while under the tutelage of his mother and older brothers. It was a skill Arken took to quickly and without much effort, but it became more and more refined as the years passed. It was during his service as a Tel'Mithrim Knight that he needed to expand upon the skillset, to handle the reigns of coaches hitched with a team of horses, or to master the aggression of warhorses bred for battle.
These experiences served him well when Arken finally made his way to the Dragoon, whose fame came from their ability to tame and ride dragons. First he had to grow comfortable with heights, then how to master his balance both practically and through supernatural means, and finally his ability to navigate three dimensional spaces through spatial awareness alone- a trait needed to be expanded upon to take advantage of flight with drakes and dragons.
Abyssal Heritage: Arken's unique blood has left him with the ability to heal rapidly during periods of rest and relaxation. Wounds which would take days, if not weeks to heal for most men can vanish within a matter of hours. This only applies when Arken is in a state of -extreme- rest, though. Since only then is the body prepared enough to endure his daemonic essence, and channel it into healing. It is all done on a subconscious level so Arken has no direct control over this skill.
Weaknesses
Gimped Leg: Arken's right leg is supported by a metallic brace, used to keep the weak joint stable and safe during combat, or any situation where some fancy foot-work would be required. Although most of his injuries are quickly healed, this old injury was so deep and violent that even it could never be returned to it's fullest. Seeing as his leg was almost torn from the socket at one point.
