Post by redhale on May 2, 2010 8:36:22 GMT -5
ooc: Since I've got somewhere to put it, and since I get a fair amount of time pottering around Hollow without RP, I've decided to write a little bit of Redhale's biography, partly for fun, partly so you guys can learn more about him, and partly to see if I can learn more about him. This is only a quick first chapter, not really proofread either, but if enough of you read it and tell me then perhaps I'll do a few more. Anyway, without any further delay, chapter one.
Sage forest has stood strong and mighty through many an age, and over the days it has produced numerous strong-willed and strong-armed folk with a resolve as sturdy as the trees which nurtured them, but rarely have the woods fostered a mind so broken as that of the dark one named Redhale. However, there he roamed as a small boy, as happy in the leaves as any other child of his age, his eyes, now long forgotten, glittering with the aspirations of an unharmed soul. He was a child already familiar with the charming ways, a skill which was only bolstered by the dark silken hair which framed his face and the two ever-smiling eyes which shone from beneath its fringe, a smile which when reflected by his grinning mouth could convince just about any mother that he hadn't been the one who had stolen her freshly baked scones.
The young half elf's own dreams of a world outside the forest were shared by his brother, two years older though no brighter, and as close a friend as any child could have. Still, that was years ago, and were you to ask Redhale now he would probably not even remember his brother's name. Each day as the last rays of sun trickled down through the canopy the two of them would sneak away to a secret spot by the river and practice what little of magic they could grasp. The evening's tricks usually only amounted to a haze of light or perhaps a small warm glow, but they were enough to attract the attention of a passing member of the mage's guild, a group that was still fairly small at the time. After spending some time with the pair the representative decided to bring them with him back to the tower to begin their first real training as mages, a notion which didn't sit too right with their parents, but heats of even the harshest punishments couldn't discourage the two from vanishing into the western mountains to learn the ways of magic.
If one was to ask Redhale for a single defining moment of his time learning under the mages of Xalious he would probably remark that on a whole they were phenomenally dreary, or that he could beat his brother in a fair fight despite the fact that his brother practiced combat magics while Redhale himself principally studied illusions and charms, he might even suggest that studying there taught him more about his female classmates and their various tendencies than it did about magic, but the truth would remain hidden through all of these. If there is one truly defining moment in all of his life, it was what happened late in his seventeenth year, during an outing from the tower with the rest of his class.
In days gone past, there have been multiple outposts from the central tower in the mountains of Xalious, and it was to a small cave-like bunker carved into the mountain itself that Redhale and his class were headed to on a field trip of sorts, under the assumption that spending time away from the relatively workaday monotony of learning on the tower grounds. After a good few days of meditation and training the two brothers decided they would end their excursion with a duel, an activity which was forbidden among younger students without the permission and supervision of an elder. Never ones to be told what to do the two made their way over to the next valley, accompanied by a few of their friends eager to witness the clash, and there they held their fight.
The battle itself was nothing spectacular, mainly just two young men showing off to their peers and occasionally putting the pressure on each other to actually make an effort. After an hour or so of prancing around Redhale had already picked out of the small crowd who he would walk home with tonight, and so set to end the ordeal quickly. In less than a second of his decision the young illusionist had cut a swift slash across his brother's leg with a lick of spiraling flame, and as he graciously took praise from one pretty young girl another helped his injured brother along with just as much infatuation. Such a scene wasn't uncommon among the younger, and the elder mages knew that they would grow out of it soon enough, indeed one had even seen the group depart that evening, but no one saw them slip back over the ridge. No one was there to chastise them for their absence as they descended the stone steps into the bunker, and no one was there behind the door hanging ajar, no one sitting at the table, no one getting ready to go to bed. The first few in the door were blissfully lost in shock as they peered about the empty room, until their gazes fell down to spy the first of the bodies lying on the floor. After the first scream had sounded reality broke in and the young rebels could see the spilt cups, the overturned chairs, and one large red smear which ran down the back wall, however hard it must have been to miss in the first place. Once all that was in their minds the smell hit them, that thick, wet, metallic smell of freshly spilt blood, and seemingly all at once they bolted back out into the night.
Unfortunately, someone was there to see them spill out of the bunker, and in the cover of darkness a swarm of devils descended upon the group, deadly and vicious as they erased the last remaining members of the class, a clan of ancient vampires who fed on all and left none alive. This is how the apprentices fell:
The first person to flee from the room was a young girl named Ella, the very same girl who had moments before been helping a wounded hero along his way, her baggage now forgotten as she raced to escape the nightmarish room. Her own selfish steps only carried her halfway up the stairs before she tripped, fell, and was trampled, even by the one she had held up only moments ago. Her agony of broken bones was mercifully cut short as the first of the hunters descended upon her.
The second to be taken was one of the students bright enough to decide where he was heading before he raced off, running as fast as he could in the direction of the tower, which would have been visible if he had managed to climb the first ridge, though the vampires could climb uphill much faster than he, and so the second student, and those who thought it prudent to follow him, were taken out, their screams punctuated by soft tearing noises which carried disturbingly well in the valley.
The small group headed by our hero himself made good ground, heading along the path of least resistance straight down the valley. The girl who Redhale had taken as his trophy ran at the back, and in one of the silly girlish outfits she was prone to wearing it seemed she was only getting slower in her panic. A sharp pain shot through her shoulder and before she knew what was happening her face had run into the rocky ground, body pinned there by some kind of spear. As she called out through split lips and shattered bones for Redhale to come back and save her, heroism an attribute so unfairly associated with young men such as himself, a second blade interrupted the crying.
Eventually it was just the two brothers again, thick as thieves even as they grew older. Any others who had come with them on their midnight escapade had either been taken or run off in another direction, and so the brothers ran only for themselves. Every few seconds Redhale would pull ahead, and then halt a moment to let his wounded brother catch up. A few steps more, and then another moments hesitation, this continued for what was probably a minute but felt like breathless years until, as Redhale turned about to check where his brother was, they were caught. At least, one of them was, the lagging leg of the older boy leaving him relatively easy prey as some huge shadowy figure, all teeth and horns, crashed down upon him. Redhale wasn't sure if there was a scream, but he would remember the rest of his life the sound of his brother's crumpling body, better, apparently, than he would remember his name. The sound told Redhale there was no use going back, despite the cries of loss and shame, the voices which told him he had been the one to slow him in the first place. Instinct won out, as it would forever more, and the boy fled into the night, spared either through apathy or cruelty, depending on who you ask.
Sage forest has stood strong and mighty through many an age, and over the days it has produced numerous strong-willed and strong-armed folk with a resolve as sturdy as the trees which nurtured them, but rarely have the woods fostered a mind so broken as that of the dark one named Redhale. However, there he roamed as a small boy, as happy in the leaves as any other child of his age, his eyes, now long forgotten, glittering with the aspirations of an unharmed soul. He was a child already familiar with the charming ways, a skill which was only bolstered by the dark silken hair which framed his face and the two ever-smiling eyes which shone from beneath its fringe, a smile which when reflected by his grinning mouth could convince just about any mother that he hadn't been the one who had stolen her freshly baked scones.
The young half elf's own dreams of a world outside the forest were shared by his brother, two years older though no brighter, and as close a friend as any child could have. Still, that was years ago, and were you to ask Redhale now he would probably not even remember his brother's name. Each day as the last rays of sun trickled down through the canopy the two of them would sneak away to a secret spot by the river and practice what little of magic they could grasp. The evening's tricks usually only amounted to a haze of light or perhaps a small warm glow, but they were enough to attract the attention of a passing member of the mage's guild, a group that was still fairly small at the time. After spending some time with the pair the representative decided to bring them with him back to the tower to begin their first real training as mages, a notion which didn't sit too right with their parents, but heats of even the harshest punishments couldn't discourage the two from vanishing into the western mountains to learn the ways of magic.
If one was to ask Redhale for a single defining moment of his time learning under the mages of Xalious he would probably remark that on a whole they were phenomenally dreary, or that he could beat his brother in a fair fight despite the fact that his brother practiced combat magics while Redhale himself principally studied illusions and charms, he might even suggest that studying there taught him more about his female classmates and their various tendencies than it did about magic, but the truth would remain hidden through all of these. If there is one truly defining moment in all of his life, it was what happened late in his seventeenth year, during an outing from the tower with the rest of his class.
In days gone past, there have been multiple outposts from the central tower in the mountains of Xalious, and it was to a small cave-like bunker carved into the mountain itself that Redhale and his class were headed to on a field trip of sorts, under the assumption that spending time away from the relatively workaday monotony of learning on the tower grounds. After a good few days of meditation and training the two brothers decided they would end their excursion with a duel, an activity which was forbidden among younger students without the permission and supervision of an elder. Never ones to be told what to do the two made their way over to the next valley, accompanied by a few of their friends eager to witness the clash, and there they held their fight.
The battle itself was nothing spectacular, mainly just two young men showing off to their peers and occasionally putting the pressure on each other to actually make an effort. After an hour or so of prancing around Redhale had already picked out of the small crowd who he would walk home with tonight, and so set to end the ordeal quickly. In less than a second of his decision the young illusionist had cut a swift slash across his brother's leg with a lick of spiraling flame, and as he graciously took praise from one pretty young girl another helped his injured brother along with just as much infatuation. Such a scene wasn't uncommon among the younger, and the elder mages knew that they would grow out of it soon enough, indeed one had even seen the group depart that evening, but no one saw them slip back over the ridge. No one was there to chastise them for their absence as they descended the stone steps into the bunker, and no one was there behind the door hanging ajar, no one sitting at the table, no one getting ready to go to bed. The first few in the door were blissfully lost in shock as they peered about the empty room, until their gazes fell down to spy the first of the bodies lying on the floor. After the first scream had sounded reality broke in and the young rebels could see the spilt cups, the overturned chairs, and one large red smear which ran down the back wall, however hard it must have been to miss in the first place. Once all that was in their minds the smell hit them, that thick, wet, metallic smell of freshly spilt blood, and seemingly all at once they bolted back out into the night.
Unfortunately, someone was there to see them spill out of the bunker, and in the cover of darkness a swarm of devils descended upon the group, deadly and vicious as they erased the last remaining members of the class, a clan of ancient vampires who fed on all and left none alive. This is how the apprentices fell:
The first person to flee from the room was a young girl named Ella, the very same girl who had moments before been helping a wounded hero along his way, her baggage now forgotten as she raced to escape the nightmarish room. Her own selfish steps only carried her halfway up the stairs before she tripped, fell, and was trampled, even by the one she had held up only moments ago. Her agony of broken bones was mercifully cut short as the first of the hunters descended upon her.
The second to be taken was one of the students bright enough to decide where he was heading before he raced off, running as fast as he could in the direction of the tower, which would have been visible if he had managed to climb the first ridge, though the vampires could climb uphill much faster than he, and so the second student, and those who thought it prudent to follow him, were taken out, their screams punctuated by soft tearing noises which carried disturbingly well in the valley.
The small group headed by our hero himself made good ground, heading along the path of least resistance straight down the valley. The girl who Redhale had taken as his trophy ran at the back, and in one of the silly girlish outfits she was prone to wearing it seemed she was only getting slower in her panic. A sharp pain shot through her shoulder and before she knew what was happening her face had run into the rocky ground, body pinned there by some kind of spear. As she called out through split lips and shattered bones for Redhale to come back and save her, heroism an attribute so unfairly associated with young men such as himself, a second blade interrupted the crying.
Eventually it was just the two brothers again, thick as thieves even as they grew older. Any others who had come with them on their midnight escapade had either been taken or run off in another direction, and so the brothers ran only for themselves. Every few seconds Redhale would pull ahead, and then halt a moment to let his wounded brother catch up. A few steps more, and then another moments hesitation, this continued for what was probably a minute but felt like breathless years until, as Redhale turned about to check where his brother was, they were caught. At least, one of them was, the lagging leg of the older boy leaving him relatively easy prey as some huge shadowy figure, all teeth and horns, crashed down upon him. Redhale wasn't sure if there was a scream, but he would remember the rest of his life the sound of his brother's crumpling body, better, apparently, than he would remember his name. The sound told Redhale there was no use going back, despite the cries of loss and shame, the voices which told him he had been the one to slow him in the first place. Instinct won out, as it would forever more, and the boy fled into the night, spared either through apathy or cruelty, depending on who you ask.