Vraimar (prime)
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Background
Vraimar is a Faendryl wizard who has not yet chosen to reveal his last name. Born on Koaratos 14, 4944, he is the youngest child of a wealthy New Ta'Faendryl family. His father, Xorsid, or "bright sun", is a Lictor of New Ta'Faendryl, while his mother, Setar Aganis Faendryl, is a Harrower (a combination of scientist, warrior and cartographer, in non-Faendryl terms.
Kerbanu and Melhor are his siblings."Kerbanu" is commonly translated as "lady of felicity, strength and power"; "lady of heart would probably be closer in translation, but the former encompasses the meaning better. "Melhor" simply means "the best." As of 5120, Kerbanu is 226, is married to Sabur (meaning "habitually patient") Silvius Faendryl, is the mother of one son (Makkar ["crafty" or "cunning"]), and is an up-and-coming barrister. Melhor is 200 and, like Vraimar, is betrothed to a young woman of good family. At present, Melhor and his fiancee are focusing on their careers in sorcery and healing, respectively.
Vraimar was frequently sickly as a child and was often depressed for no apparent reason. (Jastev's mark was upon him even then, but no one realized it.) His greatest fear in childhood was crowds. Being among large numbers of people was agonizing for him; speaking before them was a nightmare worthy of Sheru. As a child, he gravitated toward sorcery with an emphasis on summoning, as he was deeply curious about the different valences and yet much of the work could be done privately with no one watching him.
However, when he was an adolescent of around 89, his best friend Anstil died horribly during a summoning. Anstil was precocious and skilled, but he and his adult brother (who joined in the summoning) were both somewhat sloppy about details. Their control was woefully inadequate, and the oculoth first inflicted Mind Rot on Anstil before it possessed Anstil's brother Qadam, driving him to dismember his younger brother while Anstil was still alive, to kill him, and--it was later rumored--to eat his hands. When the creature was eventually banished from his mind and body, Qadam, realizing what he had done, lost his mind. He is currently in the Elizhabet Mahkra Faendryl Asylum for the Thaumaturgically Unsettled.
This tragedy had a profound impact on the adolescent Vraimar. He immediately lost all interest in sorcery, feeling that to pursue this path would result only in death or worse. This confounded Xorsid and Setar, who did not see fear or probable death as obstacles. They deemed fear to be unworthy of someone of his proud heritage and probable death as unlikely for anyone bright, hard-working, and attentive to details. They dismissed Qadam and Anstil as a trifle lazy and thus responsible for their own destruction. This was not what Vraimar wanted to hear.
Though his parents regarded Vraimar's fear as a childish phase he would soon overcome, Vraimar was certain that it was not. He didn't know what he wanted to do, but it wasn't that. Regrettably, he was at a school that taught talented youngsters how to use arcane magic, and his teachers were no more pleased by his sudden loss of interest in sorcery than his parents were. Even his siblings viewed his attitude as little more than stubbornness that would make the family look incapable and cowardly. And having always been a shy and somewhat withdrawn boy, he had few friends to rely on for support. It was, in his words, a cold and lonely time.
About six years later, when he was 95, his parents arranged a marriage with a girl about his own age who was studying to be a wizard. Neither was particularly interested in the other romantically or sexually (though Vraimar finds her extraordinarily pretty from an aesthetic point of view), but they hit it off quite well as friends, which gave Vraimar hope that the marriage might be somewhat enjoyable. There were worse things than wedding a close friend, after all. And the marriage would not take place until they were both well over 200. Perhaps by then he would have found his path.
The issue of Vraimar's profession remained stalled for some time. Then, when he was 153 and drawing close to adulthood, his uncle (Xorsid's younger brother, who also worked in the city bureaucracy) was stunned, rubbed with poisonous ointment, and then dragged to New Ta'Faendryl's sewers to decay. The corpse was found four days later...along with a note saying that he had wronged the killer with his sorceries. The investigation, though thorough, turned up nothing. The murderer was never caught.
At this point, Vraimar simply mutinied. He packed his books, clothes and possessions, left school, and walked home, where he told his parents calmly but firmly that he would not return. There was no point in his studying for a profession that he loathed and feared and would never practice. His parents were furious, but then they discovered that left to his own devices, Vraimar would study for hours in his room. This seemed like an old-fashioned, even traditional path to sorcery to them, and they rescinded most of the punishments they had imposed. Even Kerbanu and Melhor found their younger brother considerably more comprehensible. Vraimar, however, felt that he was not so much studying as waiting, though he didn't quite know what he was waiting for.
Then, in 5118, when he was 174, he learned what he had been waiting for.
He was spending the day in a park with his fiancee. They were simply walking along and talking when Vraimar stopped, looking as if he had just been hit in the head with a poleaxe. For several long moments, he looked baffled, and then slowly, almost haltingly, repeated the following in a whisper:
As the world turns to ice, as bright colors fill the night sky, one clad in red shall spill blue blood while striving to end the gods. An embarrassing defeat shall cause the return of monsters and an era of honor. When the blind man sees once more, a false leader shall make life anew.
Then the trance ended, leaving a bewildered Vraimar staring at his fiancee. He remembered nothing of what he had said; what he recalled was hearing a voice telling him to turn around. When he did, he saw Jastev, a paintbrush in one hand and a crystal ball in the other, gazing at him.
"I've given you a message," the Arkati said. "But this is not the right place to deliver it. Go west. You'll know it when you find it."
Vraimar protested feebly that his parents would never grant him permission to go so far from home, as he was not yet an adult. Jastev gazed at him with a steely eye.
"I do not require their permission. You are mine. And I gave you a command."
And with that, Jastev vanished and the trance ended.
It took some time for Vraimar to calm down--and even longer to persuade his future wife that this was more than delirium and temporary madness. It took so long, in fact, that he realized that he had no hope of convincing his parents that what had happened was real. He who had seen Jastev was dumbfounded, for why would an Arkati choose him? His fiancee had seen nothing, but had heard a prophecy...and was still searching for a rational explanation. How hard would it be for his parents, who neither saw nor heard anything out of the ordinary?
Realizing that he could not tolerate another fifty years or so of argument about something he knew to be real, he asked his fiancee to say nothing about this, no matter what she heard, and to remember that he cared for her and would not betray her. Knowing that this was goodbye, she agreed, fighting to hold back the tears.
That night, Vraimar left his home with a few books, clothing suitable for long walks and winter weather, and nothing else. He did not know where he was going or what he would do when he got there, but remaining at home was out of the question. He later described what had happened as an earthquake that shook his life down to its foundations. He could no more ignore it than a suffocating Dark Elf could ignore air.
The walk was a long one, for the trip west cost a great deal of money. It took time to put aside 2,010 silvers for two mine cart rides and a trip on a ferry--and he meant to go as far west as he could. So, over the course of nearly a year, Vraimar worked as a wandering teacher and scholar, a hunter, a cook for a caravan, a harvestman, a farmhand--which he detested, as he had no experience in slopping pigs and the pigs smelled--a temporary mason, a cowherd, an herb gatherer, and...he supposed...an adventurer.
Early in 5120, he arrived in Wehnimer's Landing. He knows he has found the right place, but he is not certain what to do next.
Appearance
You see Vraimar the Holy Crusader.
He appears to be a Faendryl Dark Elf.
He is average height. He appears to be youthful. He has piercing steel grey eyes and pale skin. He has short, tousled jet black hair swept back from the temples. He has an angular face, a thin nose and a high forehead. He is in good shape.
He is holding a gold-pommeled white ora broadsword in his right hand and a boar-crested cerulean ora targe in his left hand.
He is wearing a spherical alexandrite pendant, a silver-corded tigerfang crystal, a string of pale green jade prayerbeads, a thin pale blue cloak, a small Silvergate pin, a sphere encased silver scythe, a golden harness, a bone-clasped forest green backpack, a suit of ivy-embossed leathers, a grey silk silver-threaded shirt, an interwoven silver and alum band, a fine amethyst ring, an intricate gold ring, a crimson leather belt, a tooled grey brushed leather sheath, some dark silver-buttoned breeches, and some twilight grey boots.
Affiliations
Vraimar is a member of the Order of Voln and is the Priest of Jastev for the Order of the Sphere and Scythe. He lives in the Silvergate Inn.