Player Name : Nicholas Knight
Character Name : Matheus
Gender : Male
Pronouns : He/Him
Class : Cleric
Age : Born in the Autumn of 240. (do the math!)
Race : Human.
Hair : Brown.
Eyes : Blue.
Birthplace : Assumed Northern Vandergon but raised in a church near the Celestial Mountains.
Appearance : Has a scar across his face and over his right eye. Though this is if you see him without his armor as he typically never takes it off in the presence of others he doesn’t trust.
Occupation : Matheus is a wandering blade who makes his earnings through bounties, manual labor, assisting in repairs and healing the injured with either potions or first aid.
Notable Traits : Rather blunt and straight to the point. Doesn’t trust people who talk too much, practitioners of the arcane arts and most, if not all syndar. Other than that he’s known to be rather friendly and always willing to aid another though the cost of this help may vary.
Relationships: Tends to keep to himself though he has ties with Manetho and Zeke Ravana. Because of those ties he is more willing to assist them in most endeavors.
Known Skills : Is an expert blacksmith and alchemist, often experiments with mixing the two crafts in hopes of creating weapons that can harbor more power than the average weapon any other blacksmith can make. Though his skills are not limited to just this as he carves his way through the battlefields while also being able to tend to the wounded within it.
Rumors : “He looked ready to accept death, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight for life first.”
“His distrust of the syndar and mages are about as bad as his distrust of organizations who, as he says, claim to be do-gooders.”
“Despite how he looks, apparently he hates when people resort to violence immediately when it’s unnecessary.” — “I heard he turned on his own allies for doing such a thing.”
Bio:
My dreams used to offer an escape from reality but now they’re filled with fire, smoke and death. As I wake from one such dream I can’t help but panic as I struggle to breathe, feeling as if I was still there with the smoke suffocating me. But as I look around there is no fire, only the roots of a tree entwined around me. Right, this is where I took shelter for the night… As I began to gather my belongings and don my armor I reached out for my tabard out of habit but stopping just short as I realized what I’m doing. What once was a vibrant red is now blackened by the ashes of yesterday, the symbol no longer discernible.
I should leave it… Even if it’s not what it once was and no longer has meaning to me, if someone were to discern its true meaning that could spell trouble. It’s not like I have the right to wear it anymore anyway. So I walked away, only looking back once at the tattered tabard as it was taken away by the wind. My eyes followed it until I noticed the darkened sky with its clouds promising rain, an ill omen for sure… From there I began scanning my surroundings to get a feel for where I might be. The sights, though it has been quite some time were all too familiar with the Hackles to the west, I knew I was in Nightriver territory once more and with that memories of the past begin to creep their way back but I shake it off. Now isn’t the time, with the possibility of rain closing in I needed to move though I wasn’t sure where…
I traveled northeast, hoping to avoid any unnecessary confrontation with the ulven I avoided the roads, only crossing them as they came. Slowly the storm I feared caught up as the rain pelted me from all sides. The only escape from this downpour within eyeshot was a forest. As I made my way to the forest I couldn’t help but feel off, as if someone or something was watching me, I chalked it up as paranoia given the circumstances. As I entered the forest the downpour lessened to a mere drizzle thanks to the canopy but the feeling of eyes upon me remained.
I began to set up camp, breaking branches and forming a makeshift tent to provide more protection for the elements and a small fire for warmth. As the fire started to grow illuminating the darkness, that’s when I heard the snapping of fallen branches behind. I turned to see what it could be but all I saw were their deep red eyes glowing from the light of the fire, mordok… one, two… three of them. I turned my back to them hoping to feign ignorance as I slowly reached for my sword and shield before they lept into action. I’ve faced mordok before and am well acquainted with their savagery but this time I was alone and they were all too eager to use their numbers against me.
As the battle ensued I used my surroundings to my advantage, making trees take the blows meant for me. One such attack left my enemy open to which I took the opportunity to introduce my blade to their gullet. With one down the other two became enraged and assaulted me with blow after blow. While my shield was able to protect me against one I could see it begin to splinter, unable to hold against the crushing blows. Not long until my armor began to give as well and eventually I could feel the plates digging into my flesh with every hit or movement I took. After my tower shield gave way I sacrificed my arm for an opening against the one who broke it, gutting him leaving only the one.
My breathing was labored and my vision began to blur, as I watched the last mordok. It was then I noticed a familiar tabard being worn by my attacker, immediately I could feel the anger growing inside me, this was no longer a matter of survival. The beast began saying something in its accursed tongue but it fell on deaf ears for I wanted nothing more than to cut it down. “I have faced death itself, you are NOTHING in comparison!” I shouted before lunging towards the creature. I left myself open, baiting out an attack and while they were able to cut across my torso I didn’t let it go unpunished as I severed its head from its body.
As the battle came to a close and the adrenaline wore off the severity of my wounds became clear. I had no feeling in my left arm and from the looks of it parts of my shield were embedded into it, my leg was badly damaged as well making it difficult to put any weight onto it but worst of all was the cut across my torso, my stomach was bleeding profusely. I pushed through the pain as I hastily began bandaging myself up, I knew if I were to delay for even a moment I may not have lived to see the next day. After I finished I looked to my torso and let out a painful chuckle. If Elinor or Henna would have seen this poor excuse for bandaging they’d have hit me but it’ll do for now until I find a healer. I looked to the last of the fallen mordok once more before removing the tabard now blackened even more by the blood of the beast…
Looking to where I came, remembering seeing a village a ways back and thinking if I made my way there maybe someone could help me. So I started walking and while my wounds were bandaged up the pain remained as my breathing became labored. From there I remember drifting in and out of consciousness, each time I awoke I found myself in a new area and sometimes it’d be light out and others it was dark. Before long it grew dark once more and I found myself walking down a road. I began to question how long have I been walking? How much longer will I last? Is this where I die… It was then when I saw a light down the road, I tried to yell for help but with my throat dried from blood all that managed to come out was a horrid cough. As I drew closer to the light I began pleading for help though my broken voice could only reach so far.
Once the light got close enough I was able to make out a blurred visage of what looked to be a man though after traveling so far the last of my strength gave way and I crumbled to the ground. As I laid there I looking to the sky, my vision began to fade with each passing second as a warm sensation flowed from my stomach once more, my wound must have opened again with the sudden fall… As I stared at the starry sky above I couldn’t help but think what a lovely sight to have to be my last. It was then when I heard the sounds of footsteps rapidly approaching, I could tell then my hearing was going as I was barely able to make out the muffled words “Damnit, hold on! This is gonna hurt but I need to stop the bleeding!”
Before the pain they spoke of started I slipped into darkness, no longer conscious as they did whatever it took to help me. Dreams of the past once again resurfaced, a raging fire spreading everywhere and the infighting of those who should have been considered kin, I called out names but there was no response. As the fire diminished a lich rose from the ashes with it the lifeless corpse of Henna. I fell to my knees to scream in anguish but before I could I began vomiting a black ichor, as I looked up to where Henna once was I saw myself, ruined armor, bandaged up but with that same black ichor coming out of my mouth and my wounds. Suddenly more ichor projected out of my mouth, as I look to the ground once more I realize I’m sinking into this inky black substance and as I try to pull away I sink deeper and deeper until it completely consumes me.
Next thing I knew my eyes opened, I immediately gasped for air as I awoke in a panicked state. I shot up to check my surroundings just to double over in pain. My breathing was quick, uneven and my body covered in sweat and unable to stop shaking. I looked around to see I was indoors, beside me laid splinters of wood and metal fragments from what I could only assume were from my armor. Where am I? What happened to me? All these questions and more ran through my head until I heard footsteps from another room approaching the door. I began to frantically look around for some sort of weapon in case I needed to defend myself but it was too late.
“Ah, you’re finally awake. How are you feeling?” speaking as she entered the room was a syndar woman with rather unique markings adorning her face. I was hesitant to respond as she didn’t look familiar and I was still uncertain of my safety.
“Relax if I wanted you dead you wouldn’t be awake right now.” I could sense the annoyance in her voice but she had a point.
“I feel tired, warm but yet cold. I can’t stop shaking either… How long was I out for?”
“Hmm, well that’s what happens when you fight mordok. They’re not the cleanest creatures so you were riddled with infections. Not to mention carrying something soaked in their blood while you have open wounds yourself isn’t the smartest thing to do. As for how long you were out, that depends: do you mean since the last time you were awake or since Zeke found you wandering the road half conscious?” She placed the back of her hand against my forehead, standard practice for checking for fevers.
“Since I was last awake? What do you mean by that?” I could feel panic setting in once more.
“You’ve been in and out of consciousness for the past week, whenever you woke up you were delirious, though you were only up for a few moments before falling back to sleep. Hmm good your fever broke though you’re probably feeling weak due malnutrition. Hold on.” She quickly left the room and my eyes went back to the pieces of metal at my bedside.
With her out of the room I began to examine my body, my arms were covered in stitched up wounds and as I looked at my stomach it too had a large wound that was surgically closed. As I sat there examining my wounds I couldn’t help but realize the numbness of my left arm. It wasn’t long after until the syndar returned with a bowl of what seemed to be stew.
“Go on, eat up. I don’t need you passing out again from hunger and it’ll help with the healing process.” she handed me the bowl and presumably due to not eating for who knows how long it was possibly the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.
Once I finished the stew I couldn’t help but ask “Who are you? And who is this Zeke you mentioned? Also what happened to my armor and why do I have little to no feeling in my left arm?”
If looks could kill the one she gave me would have done it. “Firstly, instead of asking questions you could thank me for A. Saving your life and that arm of yours that you are referring to and B. For feeding you some of my own food. As for who I am, I am Manetho and the one who patched you up and brought you to me was Zeke Ravana. He’s somewhat of a bard.”
“Manetho. I think I’ve heard of you before.”
“I’m sure you have, now as for your armor and your arm. The armor was broken to the point where it was actually cutting into you, embedding itself into your flesh and needed to be surgically removed. Which brings us to your arm.. That’s where the brunt of the damage seemed to have been dealt, I’m assuming you typically use a shield judging by the splinters of wood I also had to remove. If anything you’re lucky you’re still able to use it though it will take some time for you to regain strength in it. I don’t recommend carrying around a big shield or anything for a while.” Her descriptions reminded me of Elinor, rather blunt and straight to the point. “Now how about you tell me who you are.”
Who am I? A coward. A man who lost everything and ran though I doubt she’d want to hear that. “Sorry, my name is.” I paused for a moment, if I tell her my name or anyone my name what would happen if that name spreads and reaches the order? They’d bring me in and brand me a deserter or worse, execute me. Maybe I shouldn’t go around telling people who I really am… “My name is Silas.” From there Matheus died and Silas was born. I spent the next month recovering from my wounds but once I was able to move more freely I went straight to work. Luckily a local blacksmith was willing to let me use his forge if I assisted in fulfilling orders that came in. So for the next few months I did just that and when I wasn’t making orders I was forging my new armor using my earnings to pay for the materials. I’d frequently check in with Manetho to see how the recovery was going, thankfully everything was healing well except my arm.
“I told you that arm is going to take more time. There’s a high chance you may never be able to use it like you used to either. Only time will tell but for now I recommend not lugging around a shield.” Her scolding reminded me more and more of Elinor everyday but I couldn’t complain as she allowed me to stay there until she deemed me well enough to no longer require her services. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months slowly my wounds turned into nothing more than scars and with that Manetho would release me from her care.
“Everything looks good… Here, before you go take this.” She held out an all too familiar tabard though now completely black from the blood and ash it had experienced. “I was able to fix it up but with everything it went through it’s permanently stained. You’re lucky I didn’t burn it since it was soaked in the blood of mordok. That stuff is extremely dangerous, you know. So try not to soak yourself in it again.” I couldn’t help but chuckle as I nodded. “Thank you for everything.” and with that I turned and walked away, leaving the village that took me in to start a new life not as Matheus but as Silas.