Darion
Darion
that bitch with the healing slap and the snappy snap
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Atletic, very low body fat but not overtly muscular. A body tempered by training and endurance, designed for accurate powerful movements instead of strength.
Body Features
Mechanical grappling hook arm on the left side, demonic metal right arm and leg, magic tattoo on his right shoulder.
Facial Features
Cute
Country bumkpin brash monk that likes to fight and be good at what he does. Compassionate, competetive, ramdonly wise. Likes mechanics and anatomy and martial arts.
View Character Profile
Alignment
Dont care didn't ask
Age
19
Children
Gender
Male
Eyes
Silver
Hair
White
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Fair
Height
6'2, 187 cm
Weight
110 lbs
Found
18th of Alturiak, 560 B.C.
From the logs of Master Melchiades, Elder and Abbott of the Wandering Monks of the Isle of Gont
17th of Alturiak
The frosts have all but disappeared from our shores. We can feel the gentle slumber of life as it stirs from the grasp of winter. It is a time of renewal, of gentle contemplation. A time in which strength is left to pool deep inside the body, in preparation for the joy and challenge of spring. However, the community is strangely excited. Meditation is interrupted by flashes of feeling, and sometimes I find the brothers staring off into the sea, as if looking for something. Earlier this morning, during breakfast, Brother Jadek stood up and pointed to the horizon and over the waves. “Storm clouds.” He said, before blinking and sitting down again, as if he didn’t know why he had just pointed them out. Small omens, here and there, omens of change. We can only hope it is change for good and prepare ourselves for if it’s change for the worst.
18th of Alturiak
Busy and strange night, even stranger day, hence why I am writing this entry so close after the last. Storm did come, and it was a behemoth. Even inside the caves, we could feel thunder shake the earth. Brother Auril was the only person on vigil duty, but none of us could manage sleep. It was Brother Jadek again and his keen eyes that heralded what was to come. Out there, in the rioting waves, was a ship. No one could discern its make or the flag it flew, for the night was dark, the ship was a way away from shore and the moon was covered by storms. We saw it buckle and toss under the wind’s indifference until it sank beneath the waves. We prayed for the brave souls claimed by the sea, until at last the storm abated and we could sleep again. We woke up late, and I was lenient in this with the younger brothers who had witnessed last night’s tragedy with me. The sun had come out strong and there was energy in the morning’s air as everyone went out to their tasks. I’d like to think it was the souls of those gone with their ship, returned to the One True Source, invigorating us and the land from beyond. After lunch, as part of their afternoon chores, Nea and young Sen went down to the shore for clams and crabs for dinner. They returned hands full, but not of the sea’s bounty, but instead full with a strange catch: A cradle, of exquisite elven design, and a child inside it. I remember when they showed him to me: a babe, white locks over an angelic face, silver eyes and elven ears. It was obvious: this creature was perhaps the only survivor of the ship from last night. The waves had chosen to spare him from their task and deliver him to us instead. Upon his bosom and around his neck was a silver pendant, with a blue gem laid upon it. No note or name besides. The brothers argued into the night, talking about whether we should keep the child or deliver him to the folk of Gont’s Harbor. All the while, the child stayed in a corner of the room, asleep inside his cradle, hugging the amulet. The discussion came to an end by my voice, and the child’s future was confirmed. We could not overlook the will of the Source about him and so we would bring him up here, among the brothers, and teach him our ways. I named him Darion, which in my natal tongue means “Gift”. Tomorrow I shall go into town and secure cloth for his dressing and a nurse for his feeding. I can’t help but see significance in the date of his coming to us: a promise of life rebirthed anew after the cold. When I went to move his cradle to my room, as I was chosen as his caretaker and master, he looked at me and smiled, with all the warmth of spring in his eyes.