Aeraku - Companion NPC Request

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Nuraku
Posts: 139
Joined: Mon Jul 27, 2020 10:13 pm
Character Sheet: viewtopic.php?f=43&t=842
Character Secrets: viewtopic.php?f=20&t=1083

Tue Jan 26, 2021 1:01 am

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A E R A K U

Details
Full Name: Aeraku
Race: Rathor Dog Beastalt
Subrace: Dranoch Botchling
Sex: Male
Age: 25
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 130 Lbs

Relation to PC: Friend, Mentor, Partner
NPC Type: Companion
Influence: 6

Birthdate: 24th of Glade, 495
Birthplace: Tyrclaid

Profession: Necromancer

Titles: None

Appearance

There is a sense as one's eyes fall upon this creature that Aeraku is a hollow, wasting thing in poor health. Abstaining as often as he can from feeding, Aeraku is starving himself to the brink of death before he buys himself a little more time, and this shows in his body. The Rathor's limbs are spindly, his body emaciated but hidden beneath a tight, long-sleeved, high collared black robe covered in clasps and red embroidery. Even before he was cursed, Aeraku was considered a runt among Rathor.

Beyond his ailing form, Aeraku's body conforms to that of a hunting breed of dog walking upon two legs. He has white fur, ashen in places, two tall fluffy triangles atop his head for ears, a fluffy white tail to betray his emotions, and a long, bestial muzzle filled with sharp, possibly too sharp to hint at what he truly is, teeth. His hands are covered in soft pads, fingers a bit shorter but covered in claws that appear to be larger, sharper, and more angular than usual. The most telling aspect that he is a Botchling would be his suspicious canine eyes of smoky red, but he feigns being hard of vision to avoid suspicion. Aeraku can often be seen wearing spectacles to further sell this lie.

When he moves, his movements are fluid, graceful, and deliberate. He speaks with his hands as he does his deep, rasping voice, gesturing and animated to convey how he feels. Even his tail swings and sways to the rhythm of the conversation. This makes him a poor liar to a trained eye, but few understand the mannerisms of a Rathor anyway.

Like many Beastalt Rathor, he opts to not wear boots, as the pads on his feet shield him from the ground to an extent. He still maintains a pair of sandals for traversing the dirty city streets, however. Even the claws upon his paw-like feet are thicker, sharper than normal.

Runes

Aeraku's rune lays beneath a thick hide of fur upon his chest, hidden from view. It is set into his flesh, and cannot be seen without first shaving the area, or prying the fur apart and taking notice of its existence.

Rune of Transposition

Personality

Introverted and prone to inner monologue, Aeraku has a gifted mind that thinks in depth before action, only rarely surrendering to instinct. What he is still defines him, and the canid aspects of his Rathor blood have seeped into his mind, leaving him easily distracted by scents, sounds, and instinctual prey drive that has since shifted to vulnerable humans rather than the bounding hares and skittering rodents he'd hunted in his youth.

More than this is the Dranoch hunger. Before being turned, Aeraku was an intelligent, kind, compassionate soul, yet ambitious and driven. These traits stuck around, if muted and redirected, and left him conflicted after being afflicted. The hunger and the atrocities he'd committed are wearing thin his sanity. Until he can find a cure to his curse, he abstains from feeding where he can, preferring to rarely consume those who were short for this life to begin with. Criminals and the ill. This is easier said than done, for he is easily unhinged by the scent of blood, driven to stalk the source and spending much of his time longing for it, staring from a distance or consumed by such thoughts that only fear and guilt keep him from acting upon.

The constant suffering Aeraku endures is punctuated by suicidal thoughts. When he was newly turned, he tried to end his own life numerous times but failed and labeled himself a dangerous coward when he is anything but. The memories of giving in to the Blood Sickness and feeding without thought haunt him, as all of his victims do. Still, he is a young Botchling, slowly cracking under the effects of the curse eating his morals away from the inside.

As Aeraku had seen much abuse by the man who gave him his curse, another fear he holds is that Rakkis may one day return. The abuse he suffered under the man's claws was inside and out. This has left him averse to the touch of others whom he does not completely trust, shaken by sudden touches and easily reminded of traumas he cannot rid himself of. Somehow, the anguish holds him to his virtues, helping to vindicate his beliefs that he needs to make this right.

Magic is Aeraku's primary distraction. Meddling in the aetherial and the strange can dull what he feels, like a drug. This gives him an edge, a deep all-consuming focus necessary to help hide his mind from his own nature. Fearful of a loss of control, he avoids mind-altering substances save for sedatives, which he isn't averse to relying upon to sleep through the fitful, constant hunger.

Aeraku's Rathor Purpose has changed over the course of his life. At first, it was to share his artwork with the world. Then, it was to find mysteries and explore. Now, he seeks to find peace for his tortured soul.

History

Born in Tyrclaid to the dregs of the Bloodless Kin, Aeraku always wanted to be somebody, to stand out from the riffraff, the forsworn, and the looked down upon. Many avenues of the world were shuttered to him: he could not learn at the academy as a child, for he had no money. When he came of age to work, a checkered past of survival robbed him of the stability he needed to maintain some semblance of an education. He grew bitter, even if he looked after the woebegone and their treacherous lecherous lot with true compassion. There had to be something more. He felt his Purpose early on, to find 'peace' with himself and his ambitions.

It was at the orphanage he'd met Alphonse, now known as Nuraku. One couldn't call them as thick as thieves, but they were friends who looked out for one another. Ever creative, Aeraku always made bracelets, and the other Rathor often mocked him for being 'girly' which instilled within him a secretive nature. He knew others would not understand from a young age, and so he kept his generosity to smaller circles, a trait that sticks with him today.

Aeraku set his sights on Daravin, where he'd heard Runes of magic were handed out to the ignorant to roll the dice on their fates. This was all he needed, and he made haste across the realms until he found himself at a place far, far from home where few spoke his tongue.


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The rarity of Rathor outside Tyrclaid drew curiosity his way, wanted or unwanted. It afforded him opportunities to learn, but it also drew him into the fold of someone he would come to regret knowing; they were a man named Rakkis, a monster, though he did not know at the onset. They were a Transpositionist, a Runeforger and Necromancer who offered to take Aeraku under their wing, and they taught without holding back. The arrangement was too good to be true. The elf may have been loose with knowledge, but there was a bitter lash tacked on to the end of the bargain: Rakkis was equally as abusive as he was generous. Aeraku accepted this as the price to pay for knowledge, but longed for Tyrclaid so that he might return and make a name for himself with what he had learned. These feelings only grew as he was given the Rune of Transposition, the sickness it rendered upon the soul driving him to an emotional stupor of complacency that juxtaposed how his current future could feel compared to the satisfaction of home.

One day, Aeraku awoke to the jostling rustle of his mentor packing the lab away in a fuss, with haste. He was drawn into the effort without explanation, and everything was to be loaded into wagon; they were off to Sil-Elaine, a land that worried him to no end. He'd heard stories of the place, and he knew of the bloodsuckers that lived there. When Rakkis' sleeve tore during their travels to reveal a forest of jagged quills, he knew immediately that he must run.

Confronting his master seemed unwise, so he left under the cover of night, but Rakkis caught up to him in a rage. The abuse that followed ascended to new heights, unlike anything before. Too horrible for him to remember, Aeraku buried the trauma away deep inside, but he'll never fully be rid of the memories nor shake the flashes that give him cause to feel ill. It ended in a crescendo as they crossed the dreary borders of Sil-Elaine into the lands of naught; Aeraku had contracted the Mist Lord's curse. Not only had he been violated by another, he was doomed to become a monster. He was told it was for his own good, but to be given the curse through such abhorrent means left his mind in tatters.

What followed was a Blood Sickness that he fought against and repeatedly failed to shake for the span of half a year. Those days were a blur of feeding, anguish, and attempts at taking his own life. When he finally came down from it, he came to understand that the Court of Dusk had adopted him into their fold, and that he was a rarity among Dranoch in Sil-Elaine at least. Receding deep within, hiding behind a numb state of complacency, Aeraku was eager to learn when Rakkis resumed teaching and abusing him.

Living like a murderous savage and playing tea time with the pompous pestilence of this land under wretched claw and villainous hive, he could not take it anymore. Going above his master, he risked it all and petitioned the Cardinal holding authority over the cretin who made him for a task abroad, anything to be away from this place. Aeraku woefully explained his origin as well as the abuse he was suffering under his master. He wanted no justice, only a reprieve, and by some miracle his wish was granted and he was sent to Tyrclaid where he would shack up within the walls a small town called Loras to spy on the interests of the Court of Dusk. Namely mages, and the spread of the Black Remedy, their Sigilic Pyromancy a noted concern.

This was enough. At first.

Aeraku grew ill again, this time with shame as he descended upon Tyrclaid in the year one-seventeen like a predator in a forest of prey who could not hold a candle to what he was. It wasn't fair to him, that he should take lives, and for what? To feel good? The solution was to find a cure, and so he pursued just that. He began amassing books, resources, and connections pursuant to that goal while helping the citizens of Loras with medical aid, artifacts, sewn articles of clothing, and tool repairs in exchange for their coinage. The other Dranoch around Loras be damned, he'd never make their mistakes nor fall into their fold. Power-hungry fools.

The road is fraught with hunger and doubt, but who would he be if he didn't try?

But the Dranoch were not to be trifled with in this way. They caught on to what he was doing, and routed him from his home. With nothing but the clothes on his back and a pouch of coin, he was forced to flee as far as he could from Tyrclaid once again. Dranoch were hiding everywhere he knew, and so he opted for a solitary life, only entering into society to risk the purchase of human meat just to survive. Currently he seeks the tools of his trade once again, for they were lost in the ransacking of his home in Loras.

Skills
Transposition 50/100 - Journeyman
Etherforging 25/100 - Apprentice
Necromancy 25/100 - Apprentice
Smithing 25/100 - Apprentice
Chemistry 25/100 - Apprentice
Medicine 25/100 - Apprentice
Clockwork 25/100 - Apprentice
Biology 25/100 - Apprentice
Research 25/100 - Apprentice

Inventory

1. Starter Package
  • 1 Set of Clothing w/ Cloak
  • 1 Waterskin
  • 1 Backpack which contains:
  • 1 Set of Toiletries
  • 10 days of rations
  • 1 Set of Eating Utensils (i.e. tin plate, cup, fork, spoon, knife)
  • Flint & Steel


Ledger
1. Starting Money, +45,000 df. 45,000 Total.
word count: 2592
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Fortuna
Posts: 195
Joined: Thu Jul 30, 2020 3:04 pm

Fri Mar 05, 2021 7:07 am

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