Post by taloswind on Oct 29, 2012 23:22:27 GMT -5
Roberts Physique is that of a slender working man, strong and limber. While smart Robert is not well trained in the theory of magic use, and uses a more natural progression towards the craft thinking through a carpenter's mind set.
Most who look upon Robert see a Rugged man from the road, Clad with a chain shirt and a dire blade at his side. A heavy black cloak rests on his shoulders protecting him from the chill and rain. His left face is scared from the blow of a sword and carries cross his neck into his torso. an eye patch covers his wounded eye.
The wound itself came from the very blade he clings to, a black scimitar demonic in design. His weapon acts like a focus for arcane power, through it he is able to manipulate the Arcane arts.
New to his power Robert Relies on what he knows, his strength that has helped him survive for the past 26 years why should the 27th be any different.
According to the Professor, the mind unlocks the mysteries of the arcane, it was through the Professor instruction and teachings Robert was able to live with his ghastly wound and find a purpose after the slaughter of Nomadic family and tribe.
Thinking back Robert remembers the fateful day that everything was taken from him, the day where he renounced his gods and picked up the black blade of a fallen monster.
It was raining,like it had been all month, the roads were muddy and rough for the caravan to travel... the wheels kept getting stuck in the damned mud, we were slow and an easy target. it was no wonder why they were attacked, so many people out in that weather.
Robert was on the forward guard that evening , his father and family with their wagon. He remembers an odd air about the caravan, he and all the guards were on edge, they were passing by the forest this evening and who knows what might live within those woods.
Monsters, Bandits, those they were prepared for, but what ever it was that came out of those woods was much more then they had expected, the rear guard were decimated before Robert knew anything was amiss, it was only the screams of the women that caught their attention. Then the fire started, and as he rode towards his family Robert was struck down from his horse.
When he awoke most of the fighting was already done, somehow the guard slew one of the beasts that attacked them, its reeking corpse only a few feet form Robert's wounded body. in the distance he could hear the moans of injured men, and the unearthly cackle of one of the creatures. Robert tried to find his sword, his body fighting against him every inch.
it was gone... The Cackle grew closer... Robert glanced around for a weapon, any weapon.. frantic his eyes darted back and forth before they lay to rest on the black blade, a scimitar of dark design, only a few feet from him. Groaning he reached for it. as his hand wraped around the blade the pain subsided as if the blade dulled it.
Move... NOW!.
he could feel the words within his mind, as if some odd magical entity was urging him to survive. Robert got to his feet and gripped his new weapon. with it he felt a strange power within him he never felt before... magic? what ever it was it would help him find his family and save who he could.
Scavengers, that's all that were left, goblins picking through the mess after the attack, but even so more then a match for an injured man... or were they? as the first one charge him Robert instinctively put up his hand a chill in the air, blue light and the goblin stopped in his tracks Robert moved through the mess killing a few, and as he did the rest scattered.
Roberts family were beyond saving, but they few left alive were enough to bring some comfort to the day.
Weeks later the professor found Robert, The Destroyed caravan now a roadside camp as they tried to salvage some of what was lost.
Robert had taken to drink, and solitude. but when the professor heard his story he had to meet him. The young man and the professor became good friends in the months to follow, he taught Robert how to wield his craft and the lore behind the black blades. What indebted Robert to the professor though, was that the man gave Robert purpose once more, to join his cause and live avenging his family's death. the drive to grow in power and use the monsters own weapon to defeat them.
The professor sent Robert to the college to harness his powers and learn more on the arcane arts, even paid his way into the establishment and wrote a letter to the dean. it was half way through his second semester that he got word of his friends demise. The dean understood as Robert took to the road for the funeral saying that he was welcome back any time.
That was a fortnight ago, and now still a day's travel away from Ravengro, He would be late... to of all things to the man he owed everything to, the Professor's funeral.
Most who look upon Robert see a Rugged man from the road, Clad with a chain shirt and a dire blade at his side. A heavy black cloak rests on his shoulders protecting him from the chill and rain. His left face is scared from the blow of a sword and carries cross his neck into his torso. an eye patch covers his wounded eye.
The wound itself came from the very blade he clings to, a black scimitar demonic in design. His weapon acts like a focus for arcane power, through it he is able to manipulate the Arcane arts.
New to his power Robert Relies on what he knows, his strength that has helped him survive for the past 26 years why should the 27th be any different.
According to the Professor, the mind unlocks the mysteries of the arcane, it was through the Professor instruction and teachings Robert was able to live with his ghastly wound and find a purpose after the slaughter of Nomadic family and tribe.
Thinking back Robert remembers the fateful day that everything was taken from him, the day where he renounced his gods and picked up the black blade of a fallen monster.
It was raining,like it had been all month, the roads were muddy and rough for the caravan to travel... the wheels kept getting stuck in the damned mud, we were slow and an easy target. it was no wonder why they were attacked, so many people out in that weather.
Robert was on the forward guard that evening , his father and family with their wagon. He remembers an odd air about the caravan, he and all the guards were on edge, they were passing by the forest this evening and who knows what might live within those woods.
Monsters, Bandits, those they were prepared for, but what ever it was that came out of those woods was much more then they had expected, the rear guard were decimated before Robert knew anything was amiss, it was only the screams of the women that caught their attention. Then the fire started, and as he rode towards his family Robert was struck down from his horse.
When he awoke most of the fighting was already done, somehow the guard slew one of the beasts that attacked them, its reeking corpse only a few feet form Robert's wounded body. in the distance he could hear the moans of injured men, and the unearthly cackle of one of the creatures. Robert tried to find his sword, his body fighting against him every inch.
it was gone... The Cackle grew closer... Robert glanced around for a weapon, any weapon.. frantic his eyes darted back and forth before they lay to rest on the black blade, a scimitar of dark design, only a few feet from him. Groaning he reached for it. as his hand wraped around the blade the pain subsided as if the blade dulled it.
Move... NOW!.
he could feel the words within his mind, as if some odd magical entity was urging him to survive. Robert got to his feet and gripped his new weapon. with it he felt a strange power within him he never felt before... magic? what ever it was it would help him find his family and save who he could.
Scavengers, that's all that were left, goblins picking through the mess after the attack, but even so more then a match for an injured man... or were they? as the first one charge him Robert instinctively put up his hand a chill in the air, blue light and the goblin stopped in his tracks Robert moved through the mess killing a few, and as he did the rest scattered.
Roberts family were beyond saving, but they few left alive were enough to bring some comfort to the day.
Weeks later the professor found Robert, The Destroyed caravan now a roadside camp as they tried to salvage some of what was lost.
Robert had taken to drink, and solitude. but when the professor heard his story he had to meet him. The young man and the professor became good friends in the months to follow, he taught Robert how to wield his craft and the lore behind the black blades. What indebted Robert to the professor though, was that the man gave Robert purpose once more, to join his cause and live avenging his family's death. the drive to grow in power and use the monsters own weapon to defeat them.
The professor sent Robert to the college to harness his powers and learn more on the arcane arts, even paid his way into the establishment and wrote a letter to the dean. it was half way through his second semester that he got word of his friends demise. The dean understood as Robert took to the road for the funeral saying that he was welcome back any time.
That was a fortnight ago, and now still a day's travel away from Ravengro, He would be late... to of all things to the man he owed everything to, the Professor's funeral.