Marcellus Valerius
Marcellus Valerius (a.k.a. Marcus Rivers)
Running away from his demons, Marcus Rivers settled in Dunwell alongside his friend Vassalis . He's since found a job working as a Blacksmith's Assistant for an older Zamoran named Master Sato .
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
He stands at 6'6" with a well-built muscular physic sculpted through years of physical labor. His broad shoulder and chiseled frame exude an aura of strength and resilience.
Facial Features
He bears a strong and handsome countenance, with sharp, defined features. His face is adorned with a neatly trimmed beard the frames his square jawline. His deep-set eyes, tinged with a hint of intensite, peer out from beneath his furrowed brow. Running past his eye is a rugged scar, a testament to the hardships he's endured.
Special abilities
Apparel & Accessories
Marcus Rivers is often seen wearing sturdy and practical attire that befits his nomadic lifestyle. His attire consists of a weathered tunic and rough-hewn trousers, providing both comfort and durability. Completing his ensemble are scuffed leather boots and a traveler's cloak for warmth and protection. Kept handy is a sturdy shield alongside his longsword and a weathered leather satchel. Marcus also wears a signet ring, a gleaming gold band adorned with the proud image of a wolf, symbolizing loyalty, family, instincts, and freedom.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Education
No one would claim that Marcus is the most intelligent man in the room, but judging by conversation with him, he does seem to have had some form of education in matters of history, philosophy, and religion.
Employment
Marcus is an assistant for Master Sato at Sato's Smithy.
Morality & Philosophy
He often finds himself lost in philosophical contemplations and the wisdom of various cultures he's met on his journeys. With a discerning mind, he analyzes and questions prevailing beliefs, looking for a new moral framework to grab him as he believes the old one has failed him. He's skeptical of the great opposites of angels and demons, and feels drawn to newly developing, more human-centric philosophies.
In his stint in Athelia, Marcus would attend the lectures of an Eldonian immigrant, Professor Heinz Meltwile. He's been drawn to the ideas he laid out in the The Äthergeist Framework.
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
His quest for answers and closure is intertwined with a broader mission to protect the innocent, restore honor, and prevent similar tragedies from befalling others. His motivation serves as a guiding force, propelling him forward on his path of discovery and self-redemption.
Likes & Dislikes
Marcus enjoys honing his combat skills and pushing himself physically. He'll take a liking to anyone that can be a competitive sparring partner in both weaponry and wrestling.
Despite his initial guarded nature, Marcus values deep connections and genuine companionship. He treasures moments of camaraderie with trusted friends and allies.
Marcus has little patience for dishonesty and deceit. He values truth and authenticity, and finds it difficult to trust those who resort to manipulation or lies.
Virtues & Personality perks
Resilience: He possesses an indomitable spirit, able to withstand physical and emotional challenges with unwavering resolve.
Courage: He exhibits bravery in the face of danger, fearlessly confronting adversaries and protecting those in need.
Loyalty: He remains steadfast and devoted to the memory of the fallen, ensuring their legacy endures.
Vices & Personality flaws
Marcus has an addictive personality and can quickly spin out of control into a downward spiral of booze, drugs, and whores. Although, Master Sato has helped Marcus train his mind and focus his rage through meditations.
Marcus struggles to control his anger and often finds himself quick to rage. His hot temper can lead to impulsive actions and heated conflicts, sometimes escalating situations unnecessarily.
Marcus has a penchant for acting without considering the consequences, often diving headfirst into dangerous situations or taking unnecessary risks. This impulsive behavior can put himself and others in jeopardy, making him prone to making rash decisions.
Personality Quirks
Marcus frequently cracks his knuckles, finding satisfaction in the audible sounds and the brief relief to his joints. It has become a subconscious gesture when he's feeling tense or preparing for a challenging task.
When suspicious or trying to assess a situation, Marcus has a habit of narrowing his eyes slightly, giving him a piercing and intense gaze. It's a subconscious reaction that signifies his alertness and wariness.
Social
Hobbies & Pets
In his free time, Marcus immerses himself in a variety of activities that reflect his adventurous spirit and penchant for seeking pleasure. He dedicates hours to rigorous martial training, sharpening his combat skills and embracing the primal intensity that comes with wielding weapons. Alongside his physical pursuits, Marcus delves into the depths of philosophical texts, pondering existential questions and seeking enlightenment amidst the chaos of the world.
When the sun sets and the shadows grow longer, Marcus finds himself drawn to the rowdy atmosphere of The Sable, a tavern where he indulges in spirited drinking bouts and eagerly engages in gambling games, particularly dice. The thrill of taking risks and testing his luck provides him with an adrenaline rush and moments of camaraderie with fellow patrons.
In more intimate moments, Marcus seeks solace in the company of the beautiful courtesans at the Midnight Orchid Brothel. There, he explores the depths of pleasure, finding respite from the burdens of his past and the tumultuous world around him. These encounters offer a brief escape.
Relationships
After years of wandering aimlessly, Marcus finally settled down in Dunwell where Master Sato is teaching him to control his inner rage and focus it somewhere productive in his life.
Character Location
Ethnicity
Age
25
Date of Birth
17th of Shadowmonth, 1294
Birthplace
Caelum
Spouses
Siblings
Children
Current Residence
Dunwell
Gender
Male
Eyes
Gray
Hair
Shaggy Black
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Tanned
Height
6'6"
Weight
280 lbs
A Storm of Memories: Reflections in the Whisper Wood
12th of Embermonth, 1319
By the gods, what a whirlwind of emotions. Seeing her again, after all these years... Lavinia Pontius. It hit me like a damned bolt of lightning. Memories I tried so hard to bury surged to the surface, and I lost myself in a torrent of rage.
I couldn't help it, you know? All that pain, all that loss... It all came rushing back. I thought she and that bodyguard of hers were out to get me. I wanted to tear her apart, to make her feel a fraction of the suffering I endured. But then, in the midst of that maddening rage, she spoke those words.
Catarina. My sister. Alive.
How could it be? For years, I believed I was the last Valerius standing, the sole survivor of that cursed night. But now, I'm not alone in this cruel world. My sister lives, somewhere out there, and I can't help but feel a glimmer of hope.
Everything's turned upside down since we set foot in the Whisper Wood. We found that druid, Tog, but he's dead now. He didn't make it, and we couldn't save him. It's a harsh reminder of how fragile life can be, how quickly everything can crumble.
The others... Vassalis, Allesandra, Ash... They're with me, even after my outburst. I don't deserve their loyalty, not after the way I acted. But they're here, by my side, and I'll be damned if I let my past swallow us all.
We've got a lot ahead of us. This forest holds secrets, and I can't shake the feeling that we're just scratching the surface of something far greater. I don't know what lies beyond these trees, but I won't let the past cripple me anymore.
Time to face the present, to fight for what's left of my family, and to find my sister. No matter what darkness lurks ahead, we'll face it together.
Reflection on Tragedy
8th of Shadowmonth, 1319
The ink spills onto the parchment, as I attempt to find solace in the words that pour forth from my soul. It is in these pages that I seek refuge, a sanctuary for the torrent of emotions that plague my weary heart.
The tragedy that befell my family... the blood-stained memories that haunt my every waking moment. How does one bear the weight of such a loss? The screams of my loved ones echo relentlessly in the depths of my mind, a piercing reminder of the darkness that dwells within this world.
I was not there when the cruel hand of fate descended upon our once noble estate. Instead, I stumbled upon the aftermath—a macabre tableau of shattered dreams and shattered lives. The sight seared into my eyes, forever etching its horror upon my soul. My fists clenched, knuckles white with a rage that threatened to consume me.
Oh, how I yearned for vengeance! Each breath I drew, tainted with the bitter taste of revenge, fueled my determination to hunt down those responsible. But in that quest for retribution, I risked losing myself, my very essence, to the abyss of darkness that lurked within.
The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, as I wandered through a haze of grief and anger. I sought solace in the depths of vices, drowning my sorrows in the numbing embrace of drink and the hollow warmth of fleeting companionship. But the relief was fleeting, a mere illusion that dissolved with the morning sun.
It was in the midst of this downward spiral that I stumbled upon Dunwell, a town nestled amidst mist-laden shores. Here, amidst the ebb and flow of life, I sought respite, a temporary reprieve from the relentless tide of my own anguish.
Yet, even in the darkest corners of this world, a glimmer of light finds its way through the cracks. In Dunwell, I discovered Master Sato, a blacksmith whose unwavering spirit defied the weight of his years. He saw in me what I could not see in myself—a flicker of strength amidst the smoldering ruins of my past.
Under his guidance, I learned to channel my rage, to harness the ancestral spirits that whispered in my blood. The fires of the forge became a metaphor for the forging of my own spirit, tempering my anger into a blade of purpose. Sato, with his weathered hands and sage wisdom, taught me the delicate dance between wrath and control.
But the scars of that fateful night remain etched upon my soul. They are a constant reminder of the lives lost, of the innocence shattered. I carry their memory with me, a burden that both fuels my determination and threatens to consume me.
In the quiet moments, when the world slumbers and the weight of my sorrow presses upon my chest, I am forced to confront the ghosts that haunt me. It is in these moments that I find strength, not in vengeance, but in the pursuit of justice—for my family, for those who have suffered at the hands of the wicked.
As I close the pages of this journal, I am reminded of the fragility of life and the resilience of the human spirit. I am but a broken vessel, seeking redemption in a world that teeters on the edge of chaos. But with each step forward, guided by the wisdom of Master Sato, I vow to carve my own path, to honor the memory of those lost, and to find purpose amidst the ruins.
May these words bear witness to my journey—a testament to the indomitable spirit that refuses to yield to the darkness. In the face of tragedy, I shall rise, my soul ablaze with the fire of ancestral guardians, and forge a legacy worthy of those who have been taken from me. Though the road ahead may be treacherous and fraught with uncertainty, I will not falter. For within me, the blood of my ancestors courses through my veins, a reminder of the resilience and strength that flows through generations.
In the embrace of the night, I stand upon the precipice of my destiny, my resolve firm and unwavering. The scars that mark my flesh are not symbols of weakness but badges of resilience, testaments to the battles fought and the demons faced. They serve as reminders that I have survived, that I carry within me the echoes of those who came before.
Master Sato
2nd of Ravenmonth, 1318
Master Sato... a name that resonates with reverence and gratitude within the depths of my being. He is not just a mentor or a teacher; he is the catalyst of transformation, the forge that has tempered the steel of my spirit.
In the days that I have spent under his tutelage, I have witnessed the profound depths of his wisdom and the strength of his character. Sato, with his weathered hands and the steady fire in his eyes, has breathed life into my journey, shaping me into a warrior with purpose.
His teachings extend far beyond the boundaries of the physical realm. With each swing of the hammer and every strike upon the anvil, he imparts lessons that transcend the art of smithing. Through his guidance, I have learned the true meaning of discipline, perseverance, and the balance between rage and tranquility.
Sato's words are like whispers of ancient wisdom, carrying the echoes of countless generations that have come before. He speaks of honor and duty, of finding harmony in the chaos of existence. In his presence, I feel a connection to something greater, a lineage of ancestral spirits guiding my path.
But it is not just his profound teachings that have left an indelible mark upon my soul; it is his unwavering belief in my potential. Sato sees in me what I have struggled to see in myself—a fierce determination, an untamed spirit yearning for purpose. With every swing of the hammer, he hammers away at the doubts and insecurities that have plagued me, sculpting a new foundation of self-belief.
In the moments of respite, when the forge's flames subside, Sato becomes more than a mentor; he becomes a confidant, a pillar of support. His tales of old, shared over warm cups of tea, remind me of the enduring power of stories and the strength we draw from our shared human experiences.
As I reflect upon the days spent under his watchful eye, I am grateful for the hardships endured and the challenges overcome. Sato has guided me through the crucible of self-discovery, shaping me into a vessel of ancestral strength and resilience. Through him, I have found a path forward, a purpose beyond the confines of my own grief.
Master Sato, a beacon of wisdom and compassion, I am forever indebted to your guidance. May the fires of your forge continue to burn brightly, illuminating the path of countless warriors yet to come. And may the echoes of your teachings reverberate through the ages, a testament to the enduring legacy of a master and his student.
In the realms of my journey, Sato's presence remains a steadfast anchor, grounding me amidst the storm. With his teachings etched into the depths of my soul, I step forward, forever grateful for the transformative gift he has bestowed upon me.
Leona
19th of Veilmonth, 1318
Leona... her name dances upon my lips, carrying with it a bittersweet melody of longing and solace. She is a woman of captivating allure, possessing a beauty that transcends the physical realm. But it is not just her external radiance that draws me to her; it is the depth of her being, the intricacies of her soul that have left an indelible mark upon my own.
In the midst of this journey, amidst the chaos and shadows that haunt my past, she is my sanctuary. With every encounter, she weaves an enchanting tapestry of moments that transcend the boundaries of time and place. Her presence is a respite from the turbulent storms that rage within me, a sanctuary where I find solace and understanding.
Leona possesses a wisdom that belies her profession, a profound understanding of the human spirit. Her words, like delicate whispers, have the power to unravel the intricacies of my thoughts and mend the shattered pieces of my soul. In her embrace, I find a refuge from the harsh realities of the world, a place where the weight of my burdens is momentarily lifted.
But it is not just her ethereal beauty or her soothing words that captivate me. It is the vulnerability she allows herself to show, the tender moments shared between us that reveal the strength beneath her delicate facade. In her eyes, I see traces of longing, of dreams unfulfilled, and it is in those moments that our souls intertwine, seeking solace in each other's presence.
Leona is a muse, a guiding light in the darkness, and through her, I have discovered a new perspective on life. She has shown me that within the depths of despair, there lies an ember of hope waiting to be ignited. Through her touch, I have learned that love and connection can bloom in the unlikeliest of places, defying societal norms and expectations.
As I pour my thoughts onto these pages, I am reminded of the profound impact she has had on my journey. Leona, with her unwavering strength and tender grace, has become more than a fleeting encounter; she has become a beacon of light in the midst of my tumultuous existence.
In the vast tapestry of my adventures, Leona's presence remains an everlasting thread, woven intricately into the fabric of my being. And as I continue to walk this winding path, I carry her essence within me, a reminder of the transformative power of connection and the beauty that can be found even in the darkest corners of our souls.
Leona, my muse, my solace, my guide—I am eternally grateful for the moments we have shared and the wisdom you have bestowed upon me. May our paths intertwine again, if only for a fleeting heartbeat, and may your light continue to shine brightly in this vast world of shadows.
First Time Journaling
29th of Ashenmonth, 1317
Alright, so old man Sato thinks I should write in this damn journal. He says it'll help me sort out my messed-up thoughts. Well, I don't see how scribbling on paper is gonna fix anything. But hey, I'll give it a shot.
I'm... Marcus Rivers, or whatever. Names are just words, right? They don't mean a damn thing. Life's been a rollercoaster lately, filled with rage and confusion. I've been swinging that damn hammer at Sato's Smithy, muscles aching and mind spinning. It's hard work, but it's a distraction from the chaos in my head.
Master Sato, that old geezer, thinks he's got all the answers. He yammers on about channeling my rage and communing with my ancestors. Spirits and all that crap. I don't get it, but I guess I'm stuck here, so might as well play along.
Dunwell, this shithole town. Just a bunch of worn-down buildings and people scraping by. Nights at The Sable are wild, fights breaking out over the stupidest shit. I've thrown my fists around more times than I can count, and there have been nights I can't remember, lost in a haze of booze and whatever else I could get my hands on.
And let's not forget The Midnight Orchid, a damn brothel. I've stumbled through those doors a few too many times, chasing a high to numb the pain. Drugs, women, it's all a blur of reckless indulgence. I remember a girl named Isabella, her fiery spirit matched my own for a night. Then there was Emily, with eyes like the ocean, and a wildness in her touch. These women, just fleeting moments of pleasure in this messed-up life.
Why the hell am I even writing this? Sato said it might help me make sense of things. Bullshit. I don't know if these scribbles will do a damn thing, but I'll keep going. Maybe one day I'll look back at this mess and see some twisted clarity. Or maybe it'll all end up in the fire, just like the rest of my fucked-up life.
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