Oliver Greaves

Mon Oct 25, 2021 7:53 pm

Oliver Greaves

Details
Full Name: Oliver Greaves
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Age: 25
Height: 6’0 ft
Weight: 200 lbs

Birthdate: 16th of Glade, Year 4596
Birthplace: A small town near the Grisic Empire’s northern border.

Profession: Itinerant Mage and Artist(Unemployed)
Housing: Depends on which inn has the lowest rates that night
Partners: None

Titles: None
Factions: None

Fluencies: Common
Conversationals: None
Ineptitudes: None

Appearance

Oliver’s most striking feature is his eyes, which always seem to be looking through people as much as at them. They’re a full, rich shade of blue. Some have said that he seems to blink less than other people do.

Despite living an unsettled life, Oliver prefers to present himself as a clean, refined, well-kempt man. His hair, short and dark, is washed and combed at all times, and the hair on his defined jaw is always stubbled. No more, no less.

As a consequence of a life mostly spent either in the wilds or on the road, Oliver has a slight tan to his skin and a strong shape to his body. He has an athletic form and appears to be in good, healthy shape.

Personality

Oliver is both brooding and insouciant, prone to making dark jokes in the wrong places at the wrong time. A dark mood is never far away with him, but he’s much more likely to crack a joke than he is to shed a tear--at least in the company of others. His humor is quick, sharp, and macabre, and often delivered with the dryness of a bone or the bluntness of a shovel.

He is more comfortable in dark, candle-lit corners or quiet graveyards than he is at social events, but he does enjoy talking to people. He often observes people with the same detached interest he might use to observe animals, so being invited to a party is a chance for him to mingle and to see how other people behave in new environments.

As a rule, Oliver is friendly unless provoked or cornered. He’s the type to sit on grievances and insults until given a reason to bring them up. For him to be angry is rare, but he’s not afraid to admit that he can enjoy really tearing into someone who deserves it.

History

► Show Spoiler

Born in a small town in the Grisic Empire, Oliver never wanted for much. His family was by no means wealthy, but they had more than enough to get by and ensure that Oliver had access to a respectable education, amble food, and exposure to many of the modern technologies that were just beginning to filter out from the great cities of the Empire.

Technology and industry never caught Oliver’s attention, however. He was much more inclined to read, and to read alone in the woods. Other people fascinated him, but only from a distance. His proclivity for spending large amounts of time either alone or watching others from the shadows never won him many friends but, when he was young, most people saw it as harmless. It was only as he grew older that people began to think there was something wrong with him. Innocent staring began to be interpreted as something more sinister, even by the otherwise rational and scientifically-minded people of the town.

Sorcery was whispered in the wind, but nothing bad had happened yet. Nothing had given the people cause to do anything more than just wonder about Oliver. Many just assumed he was anti-social, and that he couldn’t help but be a little odd. That wasn’t the same as being a mage, they argued. He was just a painter and a reader, and nothing more.

Until a girl turned up dead.

Oliver’s habit of reading alone hadn’t gone unnoticed by the other adolescents, and some of them made a habit of picking on him for it. Annora was one of those bothersome bullies, and one day, while Oliver was by himself, she sat out to locate and annoy him. He would simply get up and walk further into the woods, and she would follow him. That cycle continued until they were a good distance from town, and until the sun had started to set. Now lost, the pair wandered aimlessly, hurling insults and hurtful words at each other until they were even further away from home.

The moonless darkness did them no favors. They were truly lost. When that realization set in, they ceased their squabbling and trudged along in silence. The deathly quiet was broken by a monstrous cry and the emergence of a monstrous figure from the brush. The monster had human legs with clawed, cat-like feet. Its head was that of an owl, but with the eyes of a spider. Its torso, such as it was, looked like it could have belonged to an emaciated bear, and it had a pair of pumping lungs stuck to the stub that would have been its left arm. Instead of a right arm, the monster had the wing and talons of some massive bird of prey. It shrieked horribly and lunged straight for the pair.

Oliver never saw Annora again. Not in one piece, anyway. While the abomination tore her apart, he darted into the darkness, only stopping when his legs would carry him no further and his body gave out.

He awoke in a cage and inside of an unfamiliar hut. For hours he tried to escape, and for hours, he failed. He was alone in the hut, which was filled with books and exposed to the outside air by open windows. Only when Oliver had already given up did a man walk through the door and greet him.

The man called himself the Shapeling, and he said that the people of the nearby town blamed Oliver for the girl’s death. They said that they believed he created the monster that killed Annora, and he said that the monster was properly called “an Atrocity.” The Atrocity was dead now, but they were looking for Oliver. And that was reason enough for the Shapeling to snatch Oliver away--”for your own good,” the Shapeling had said.

Predictably, Oliver was upset. The unkempt man standing before him in rudimentary, borderline primitive clothes could very well have been lying, but Oliver couldn’t help but think his story was true. So when the Shapeling gave Oliver the choice to stay and learn how to protect himself, he accepted. What other choice did he have?

Oliver stayed with the Shapeling for years, and in that time he was initiated into the art of Malformity. The Atrocity that had killed Annora was the result of a failed initiation, but Oliver would only learn as much after he had already survived the grueling process. A life in the remote wilderness with an experienced mage ensured that Oliver was able to excel in his studies for the short time he studied under the Shapeling, but he never dared to try and transform into an animal--to Mold--despite his mentor’s insistence. Understanding an animal’s mind was one thing, but to risk becoming some sort of horrible monster trying to become one was another. He was particularly fond of ravens, who often came to roost near the hut. They were intelligent and free. Oliver obviously wished he could relate.

All was well until, after years of being separated from his old life, hunters came across the Shapeling’s secluded home. It wasn’t long before a mob came and stormed it, capturing both Oliver and the Shapeling and hauling them away to be imprisoned.

The Shapeling was burned at the stake less than a day later. He had obviously been using magic--something that was punishable by death in the Grisic Empire--but Oliver, they were less sure about. They left him to rot for days, only occasionally coming to feed, water, and interrogate him until he finally heard word that he was set to be burned the next day. Seeing no other option, Oliver recalled all of his training and all of his experiences to, at long last, and after an excruciating amount of physical and mental anguish, mold himself into the shape of a large raven. When the guards came for him and opened the door, he flew right past and over their heads and then out through a chimney. The process of turning back to a human was no less draining, especially after that violent burst of flight, but at least he was safe from the pyre. Even if he was alone in the world.

In the years that followed, Oliver wandered North, staying out of sight until he was sure he was far away from the witch-hunters and dangerous mobs that might have killed him for being a mage. At first he found work doing odd jobs as he meandered his way towards Daravin, which he knew to be a land more tolerant of magic users. Then, he found temporary work wherever he could get it painting things for people who could pay. Eventually, at long last, he gathered enough money to make his final journey to Genteven, where he hoped to carve out a successful life for himself away from those who would kill people like him on sight.

Mon Oct 25, 2021 7:59 pm

S K I L L S

Skill	Skill Level	Proficiency
Malformity	25/100	Apprentice
Meditation	10/100	Novice
Painting	20/100	Novice
Animal Handling	20/100	Novice
Persuasion	15/100	Novice
Seduction	20/100	Novice
Intimidation	20/100	Novice
Unarmed	10/100	Novice
Writing	5/100	Novice
Flight	5/100	Novice

Thread	Points Awarded	Points Spent	Running Total
Atharen Launch Bonus	+25	25 [20 Intimidation] [5 Flight]	0
CS Approval Bonus XP	+15	15 [5 Writing] [10 Unarmed]	0
None yet	+0	0	0

Starter Package - 100 Starting XP
Malformity - 25
Painting - 20
Animal Handling - 20
Seduction - 20
Persuasion - 15

Human Bonus
Meditation - 10

Mon Oct 25, 2021 8:06 pm

K N O W L E D G E

Lores

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Mon Oct 25, 2021 8:15 pm

I N V E N T O R Y

Items
1. Starter Package - Common
Items Here

1 Set of Clothing (Cloak or Coat and footwear included)
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
Artist's Kit

► Show Spoiler

Housing
House description here

Ledger
1. Starting Gold, +1,500 df. = 1,000 df Total.
2. Artist Kit - 200 df. = 800 df Total.