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Retired Immortals
Abasdarhon
Adorno
Aegnor
Aldaron
Anthatal
Awrathre
Barsak
Carenthir
Cedric
Cirdan
Cylan
Darkwood
Dielantha
Drinlinda
Drithentir
Eilefhein
Fevrea
Gryleth
Hector
Huerkin
Illunus
Ilphrynn
Imrazor
Jord
Julive
Khargrim
Kontina
Lestregus
Liefdei
Maelstrom
Malignus
Malistien
Maradis
Masin
Melykurion
Morrbway
Nebhotep
Nixalis
Nycholas
Radik
Rantialen
Restin
Ricmeant
Sagan
Sigler
Thaust
Thrym
Tyberius
Utara
Vrrin
Wervdon
Wicket
Xartaul
Xeonauz

 



Areas of Influence: Reason, Change, and Perception
Symbol: N/A
Alignment: Neutral
Race: Human

Clouds raced across the sky, seemingly angry at the land below. A storm front was moving in as the sky grew dark and a cold wind blew through the lands. Scanning the horizon from his favorite green topped hillside, he took in the simplistic beauty of the plains, mountains and sky, for he knew he would never see them again. Clenching his fist tightly, he knew that his mind was made up. Standing up and grabbing his pack, he began the trek down the hill towards the farmhouse in the valley where he could see his mother waving to him to return before the storm came in.

As Restin neared the house, light drops of cold rain hit his face and wind whipped through his black hair. His mother stood on the porch waiting for him. She could tell that something had changed by the look on his face and the resolution in his eyes. She had known it to be coming for a long time. Lienna had always knew her first child would not stay at home on the farm. He had never had the mind for it, she knew he was destined for something far greater than the tilling of the fields.

Restin walked inside the small home and went to the corner of the living area where he kept his things. Having only two rooms in the house, Restin had to sleep on the floor so that his younger siblings could share a bed in the back bedroom. He did not mind. He had always preferred to make things more difficult for himself, thinking that such hardship would make him more resolute, more pure. He began to go through his things and place them in a small pack he had been preparing for the last few months. Taking a final look around, he was satisfied he had all he needed. With that thought, he hefted the pack over his shoulder and turned around to see his family gathered before him. He was surprised he had not noticed their presence in the room.

His father, Drith, looked upon him with the same stern gray eyes that Restin himself had inherited. There was a tinge of sadness mixed into the steel of his gaze, something Restin had never seen before. Walking over to his young son, he reached out and placed a few coins into Restin’s palm. Looking at the money, the young man realized that this was more than a few months’ earnings. Drith reached out and gave his son a powerful hug, wishing him well on his journey. Drith had always known his son to be more than a simple farmer, though he had never truly accepted that fact till the last few days.

His mother gave him a deep hug and pummeled him with advice that only a mother could give while putting a rolled up bundle of cloth in his other hand. Restin had obviously not been as secretive as he had thought. It was obvious Lienna had known what he was planning the entire time. Always the insightful and loving one, she wished him well for wherever his journey would take him, holding back the tears that welled up in her eyes.

Though he had always been a rather dedicated and cold person himself, one of the few things that would ever bring emotion to his focused expression were the two siblings that now stood before him. Nessa and Cain, his younger sister and brother, reached out and hugged their older sibling, begging him not to go. Restin took a moment to calm their fears and tell them to be strong for him, for no matter what, he would always be with them both in spirit. Nessa reached out and held her little brother, comforting him as Restin prepared to leave.

His family walked him out to the porch of the farmhouse, the wind whipping their clothes about and the cold air rushing inside. Restin walked a ways out, then turned back to look at his family one last time. Watching him leave as they held each other in front of their run down home, knowing they may never see him again. Putting one hand in the air, Restin waved goodbye, and with that he turned around and walked away from his old life, ready to start anew. A thunderclap was heard and as the young boy walked away from the only home he had ever known, the cold rain poured down upon him.

On his travels Restin learned many things. He spent time in the first main city he visited and there he met a man of the monk guild. Helping him from being robbed by a group of bandits, Restin was fascinated by the ability of the man. Inquiring further into how he had fought the brigands with no weapon, the older gentlemen brought Restin to a Dojo where he lived.

Spending many months there, Restin first learned the ways of the monk, and after a short time, showed great skill in the art of martial combat. The older gentleman, known as Sen Lo, taught school along with four other monks, each of which instructed students in five different styles of combat.

The first moment Restin laid eyes upon the fighting style of the Dragon, he knew what he wished to do with his life. The forethought and wisdom inherent in the school of the Dragon were very noticeable to the young boy and it was these characteristics along with the will and fortitude of the Sensei who was master of the art that earned his respect. For almost a year Restin trained in the city of Serinth until he finally decided he needed to further travel into the heart of Thera, where he had been pulled to all his life.

When Restin saw a magic user for the first time, the man was merely a mediocre apprentice at best, weaving unimpressive spells in the middle of some small town to earn money. Restin watched as the man created small items out of thin air, and moved a cup to his hand. Having a curious mind, Restin wished to look more into this so called power and set out to study its nature. There was something about it that made Restin feel extremely frustrated and he could not understand why.

Upon reaching one of the great cities of the east, Restin studied and worked at a library for many years taking in all he could, be it the land, history, wars, magic, and whatever else he wished. It was this time of study, as he learned of the world and honed both his mind and body, that he realized his true calling. It was at this time that Restin learned of the Crusades and their quest to rid Thera of mortal magic and bring purity to the land. He knew this had been a part of the puzzle in his mind that had driven him to these lengths.

In his time of study, Restin came to revere the Lord Dielantha. He made a goal to become a follower of the Lord of the Silver Dragon and prove himself worthy of his mark. He sought out his lord’s shrine and the Keep of the Crusades and he finally found himself in the place he would truly call home...The heart of Thera.

Setting about mastering himself in his art of the Dragon, Restin proceeded to quest towards his Lords mark and entry to the clan. Many changes in leadership caused a long period of confusion within the ranks and he was not able to gain entry into the Crusades. He would finally come to earn a place among his Lord’s following. On the way towards that end, Restin found himself speaking to someone he had not thought he would interact with. A man by the name of Shakuntala, an Archmage of Arcana. In time, he came to respect this mage, realizing that not all that used magic would hate him for his beliefs. Only one other man in his mortal days would ever earn his respect as this wielder of spells would.

No leader lead the Clan of Steel at this time, and Darkwood himself sought to bring in new recruits to the cause. It was this time that he met the only person he would ever truly call friend, Jord Roshnak. Darkwood spoke to them both for a small time, and personally admitted the two determined applicants into the Clan, knowing that if they brought dishonor to the house, they would regret it. He came to know this giant, and came to trust him more than he ever thought he could trust another mortal being. Over the years, Jord would be the only mortal in which Restin would willingly show weakness in front of.

During his younger days in the Clan he advanced in the ranks quickly. Fighting against the Archmages at a time when the house of Magic was extremely powerful and the young clansman was reminded of this power frequently. In this he was also privy to many acts of dishonor and treachery. Going through his scrolls one day, he found a message from Lord Darkwood himself, to be at an important gathering of the Clan. That scroll would entail the beginnings of the downfall of Arcana.

 




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