Full Name: Mentis Fuzojix Race: Asrai - Human mixture Age: 29 Eye Color: Hazel Hair Color/Hair Style: Black, shoulder length straight hair Gender: Male Weapon/Armor Specialization: Proficient in light armor, wears basic leather armor underneath his robes. Especially proficient with his chosen and highly customized weapon, a bladed chain.
Personal History:
"What do you want with me?!"
The screams had resurfaced, he thought he had managed to bury them with the rest of his memories, but the screams always returned.
"I've told you already, I DON'T KNOW!!"
He chuckled darkly, wondering what he would be doing if he had never escaped from that wretched prison.
"Mom, somebody's at the door, I think it's the town guard."
He couldn't help but laugh at this memory, his own mother. His own mother actually sold him out. She had promised that she would keep his gifts a secret, but people always said that money is a terrible thing.
This became completely apparent at the age of 8. The morning after his birthday, soldiers dragged him away from his home, into the depths of the castle dungeons. He could remember the look on his mother's face as he was dragged, kicking and screaming away from the one place he thought he was safe in, his last sanctuary from the rigors of keeping his heritage a secret. That look on her face, utter disgust for the spawn she has birthed as she fondled the new coins in her pocket.
"At least she got what was coming to her." He thought to himself, chuckling once more at the image of his house burning to the ground. The memory of throwing the torch, of the house turning to cinders, of his mothers' cries as she charred in her bed. He hummed the tune he had hummed the night he stood watching his home burn. That tune was the one thing he had kept from his past, the song that his mother used to sing for him as he drifted off to sleep. That one keepsake with him, he left his past behind to strike out on his own.
He couldn't help but wonder what had become of his father at this point, wondering if he had an equally easy time of leaving his mother behind, or if he even knew that his mother had given birth. Asrai and humans very rarely mate, Mentis was one of the few unfortunate to have this mixed blood. The powers of his Asrai father ran rampant, and his human lineage could not contain the raw energy running through his veins. He would spend hours trying to focus this energy, trying to draw it along some discernable course instead of being a mere conduit to the uncontrollable and unpredictable energies that flowed through him.
He always tried to hide it, and thought he had the townsfolk fooled. But as he remembered once more, money is a terrible thing. Without money, he never would have spent those years trapped in the castle dungeons, being inspected and grilled like some lab specimen under a lens. The castle mages were the worst of them, always trying to unlock the power within him, always trying to harness it to fuel their own lust for power. They saw him as a generator, and themselves as the sole benefactors of the power that flowed from this now 12 year old boy.
He remembered the day of his vengeance, his freedom. He remembered strangling the mage with the very chains he was imprisoned with, feeling the life slip from him. He felt no remorse for this act, he knew that they would only increase the already unbearable experiments, he could take it no longer. He took the mages' key, unlocked himself, and dressed in his robes. Looking back upon his cell, he picked up the chain he had been confined with, keeping it as a reminder to cherish his regained freedom. His one keepsake in hand, he ran without looking back, and paid his mother a long overdue visit.
His powers still running rampant, he studied the Asrai people, learning of a thing called "The Old Religion". He would sneak into the castle archives at night, wearing the robes of his oppressors to appear as one of them. Several months of dredging up old tomes in the forbidden castle archives had turned up a rather large vocabulary of words, words of power. Some, he could not say, or even think without endangering his body and mind. But the words that governed the realms of raw energy were at his fingertips, and subject to his every wish.
Now, leaving his past in the back of his mind, he turned his mind back to the current day. He joined his brethren in the field, thrust his now weaponized chain in the air, and bellowed a howl of freedom, of revolution.
Character-Driving Goals: Vengeance for the years he lost, and to find the whereabouts of his father.
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Full Name: Mentis Fuzojix
Race: Asrai - Human mixture
Age: 29
Eye Color: Hazel
Hair Color/Hair Style: Black, shoulder length straight hair
Gender: Male
Weapon/Armor Specialization: Proficient in light armor, wears basic leather armor underneath his robes. Especially proficient with his chosen and highly customized weapon, a bladed chain.
Personal History:
"What do you want with me?!"
The screams had resurfaced, he thought he had managed to bury them with the rest of his memories, but the screams always returned.
"I've told you already, I DON'T KNOW!!"
He chuckled darkly, wondering what he would be doing if he had never escaped from that wretched prison.
"Mom, somebody's at the door, I think it's the town guard."
He couldn't help but laugh at this memory, his own mother. His own mother actually sold him out. She had promised that she would keep his gifts a secret, but people always said that money is a terrible thing.
This became completely apparent at the age of 8. The morning after his birthday, soldiers dragged him away from his home, into the depths of the castle dungeons. He could remember the look on his mother's face as he was dragged, kicking and screaming away from the one place he thought he was safe in, his last sanctuary from the rigors of keeping his heritage a secret. That look on her face, utter disgust for the spawn she has birthed as she fondled the new coins in her pocket.
"At least she got what was coming to her." He thought to himself, chuckling once more at the image of his house burning to the ground. The memory of throwing the torch, of the house turning to cinders, of his mothers' cries as she charred in her bed. He hummed the tune he had hummed the night he stood watching his home burn. That tune was the one thing he had kept from his past, the song that his mother used to sing for him as he drifted off to sleep. That one keepsake with him, he left his past behind to strike out on his own.
He couldn't help but wonder what had become of his father at this point, wondering if he had an equally easy time of leaving his mother behind, or if he even knew that his mother had given birth. Asrai and humans very rarely mate, Mentis was one of the few unfortunate to have this mixed blood. The powers of his Asrai father ran rampant, and his human lineage could not contain the raw energy running through his veins. He would spend hours trying to focus this energy, trying to draw it along some discernable course instead of being a mere conduit to the uncontrollable and unpredictable energies that flowed through him.
He always tried to hide it, and thought he had the townsfolk fooled. But as he remembered once more, money is a terrible thing. Without money, he never would have spent those years trapped in the castle dungeons, being inspected and grilled like some lab specimen under a lens. The castle mages were the worst of them, always trying to unlock the power within him, always trying to harness it to fuel their own lust for power. They saw him as a generator, and themselves as the sole benefactors of the power that flowed from this now 12 year old boy.
He remembered the day of his vengeance, his freedom. He remembered strangling the mage with the very chains he was imprisoned with, feeling the life slip from him. He felt no remorse for this act, he knew that they would only increase the already unbearable experiments, he could take it no longer. He took the mages' key, unlocked himself, and dressed in his robes. Looking back upon his cell, he picked up the chain he had been confined with, keeping it as a reminder to cherish his regained freedom. His one keepsake in hand, he ran without looking back, and paid his mother a long overdue visit.
His powers still running rampant, he studied the Asrai people, learning of a thing called "The Old Religion". He would sneak into the castle archives at night, wearing the robes of his oppressors to appear as one of them. Several months of dredging up old tomes in the forbidden castle archives had turned up a rather large vocabulary of words, words of power. Some, he could not say, or even think without endangering his body and mind. But the words that governed the realms of raw energy were at his fingertips, and subject to his every wish.
Now, leaving his past in the back of his mind, he turned his mind back to the current day. He joined his brethren in the field, thrust his now weaponized chain in the air, and bellowed a howl of freedom, of revolution.
Character-Driving Goals: Vengeance for the years he lost, and to find the whereabouts of his father.