Life After Death
| Age 23 |
| Gender Male |
| Origin Elf, Suldaza |
| Occupation "Trader", Mercenary, Sky Pirate |
His house was lesser, Low.
Once it had been on the way to becoming more, but all it took was one act of deception and one opportune moment to tear that dream down. That was, decades if not... nearly a century past, and more importantly, before Astera's time. To remain in good graces, and to not be completely dismantled, his house served the others (the ones who had claim, anyway). They bolstered their armies, they spied for them, they acted as guards for their important members, nobles, seers and heirs. Their lives for them, always.
Rarely, they married into the High Houses, which gained them prestige, it was the goal for most until it was clear marrying higher wasn't meant to be. When you came of age and after your training, you had a choice of where you wanted to serve depending on your skills, but before that time you went where you were told.
Astera, was no different.
As part of his training he was to look after a young seer, a year his junior. Whatever she required. A playmate, protection, or a chance for her to learn what other Houses offered. It hadn't been his idea of a good time, an opinion they both shared. To have her tail after him day after day, was irritating enough... but when she didn't want anything to do with him? He had to follow her all the same. Neither wanted to be a part of whatever this was.
Keep her safe, Astera, for she may be your responsibility later on.
Was that to be his future? Protecting his "betters"? It was that or die for them in their little civil wars.
Die for one, or die for all.
It wasn't much of a choice.
The animosity between them eventually... eased. Perhaps it was the deal struck between them, he trained her in what he knew. Whether it was shroudweaving or general combat, and for fun a little bit of tomfoolery in the form of stealing. In exchange she owed him a favour. He didn't know what he wanted from her, so he improvised. A favour done at a time of his choosing, whenever he needed one. Weeks ago it would have been fun to have this hang over her head while they waited for this "torture" to end. Now? It was more of a promise, with the sprinklings of magic woven in.
As time wore on it looked more and more likely that he was to attend to her for however long her Uncle needed him to guard her. His training took him away from shroudweaving and deeper into strength, flexibility and combat with various weapons when it became clear of his "preference" to stick by his charge's side. If he was going to be a guard, he was going to do it as efficiently and as correctly as possible. If he was going to be someone's blade, he was going to be sharp and deadly.
With his seventeenth year was when it all ended.
He was supposed to be protector, he was supposed to...
He wasn't supposed to fall.
There were too many of them, even for someone as skilled as he thought he was, but a seasoned warrior, Tera was not. Eventually he found himself on the end of a blade... and that was the last he remembered. It was just darkness, cold, unending darkness with whisperings in his mind.
When he awoke, five years had passed, with his "savior" poised to rid himself of the last threat. Instead, he was met with a very confused and disoriented Astera. What happened? Where was he? Was that fear in his own eyes as he struggled to remember... anything? There was nothing. Nothing he could offer this... Zak.
There were so many more questions than he had answers to, and he had very little answers. All he felt was a profound sense of loss, loss of self, loss of life. Did he not die?
All he knew was... he felt wrong.
Over the next year he worked under Zakira on his airship, over that next year they tried looking for the people that did this to him, to rid the world of them or at least the very individual who had taken control of him initially. All the while he knew that it would mean the end of this "life" if he were even alive. He aged, but it could have been through the magic keeping him animated.
There were so many unknowns.
Meanwhile? It was heists. It was blending in and taking what wasn't theirs. Near and around his old homeland seemed a perfect spot, with a relic he knew a little about. Never did he expect to see a new old face. He had one chance to pull this off. "Hand over the ocarina, and come with us," he told her, as his blade aimed to kill (if he had to), for if she screamed for help? "You owe me, Valeria, I'm calling in my favour." There was a ghost of a smile that touched his lips, ready to silence her if he needed to.He didn't want to.
It seemed that magic persisted through undeath. If he had truly died.
A wonder.
Once it had been on the way to becoming more, but all it took was one act of deception and one opportune moment to tear that dream down. That was, decades if not... nearly a century past, and more importantly, before Astera's time. To remain in good graces, and to not be completely dismantled, his house served the others (the ones who had claim, anyway). They bolstered their armies, they spied for them, they acted as guards for their important members, nobles, seers and heirs. Their lives for them, always.
Rarely, they married into the High Houses, which gained them prestige, it was the goal for most until it was clear marrying higher wasn't meant to be. When you came of age and after your training, you had a choice of where you wanted to serve depending on your skills, but before that time you went where you were told.
Astera, was no different.
As part of his training he was to look after a young seer, a year his junior. Whatever she required. A playmate, protection, or a chance for her to learn what other Houses offered. It hadn't been his idea of a good time, an opinion they both shared. To have her tail after him day after day, was irritating enough... but when she didn't want anything to do with him? He had to follow her all the same. Neither wanted to be a part of whatever this was.
Keep her safe, Astera, for she may be your responsibility later on.
Was that to be his future? Protecting his "betters"? It was that or die for them in their little civil wars.
Die for one, or die for all.
It wasn't much of a choice.
The animosity between them eventually... eased. Perhaps it was the deal struck between them, he trained her in what he knew. Whether it was shroudweaving or general combat, and for fun a little bit of tomfoolery in the form of stealing. In exchange she owed him a favour. He didn't know what he wanted from her, so he improvised. A favour done at a time of his choosing, whenever he needed one. Weeks ago it would have been fun to have this hang over her head while they waited for this "torture" to end. Now? It was more of a promise, with the sprinklings of magic woven in.
As time wore on it looked more and more likely that he was to attend to her for however long her Uncle needed him to guard her. His training took him away from shroudweaving and deeper into strength, flexibility and combat with various weapons when it became clear of his "preference" to stick by his charge's side. If he was going to be a guard, he was going to do it as efficiently and as correctly as possible. If he was going to be someone's blade, he was going to be sharp and deadly.
With his seventeenth year was when it all ended.
He was supposed to be protector, he was supposed to...
He wasn't supposed to fall.
There were too many of them, even for someone as skilled as he thought he was, but a seasoned warrior, Tera was not. Eventually he found himself on the end of a blade... and that was the last he remembered. It was just darkness, cold, unending darkness with whisperings in his mind.
When he awoke, five years had passed, with his "savior" poised to rid himself of the last threat. Instead, he was met with a very confused and disoriented Astera. What happened? Where was he? Was that fear in his own eyes as he struggled to remember... anything? There was nothing. Nothing he could offer this... Zak.
There were so many more questions than he had answers to, and he had very little answers. All he felt was a profound sense of loss, loss of self, loss of life. Did he not die?
All he knew was... he felt wrong.
Over the next year he worked under Zakira on his airship, over that next year they tried looking for the people that did this to him, to rid the world of them or at least the very individual who had taken control of him initially. All the while he knew that it would mean the end of this "life" if he were even alive. He aged, but it could have been through the magic keeping him animated.
There were so many unknowns.
Meanwhile? It was heists. It was blending in and taking what wasn't theirs. Near and around his old homeland seemed a perfect spot, with a relic he knew a little about. Never did he expect to see a new old face. He had one chance to pull this off. "Hand over the ocarina, and come with us," he told her, as his blade aimed to kill (if he had to), for if she screamed for help? "You owe me, Valeria, I'm calling in my favour." There was a ghost of a smile that touched his lips, ready to silence her if he needed to.
It seemed that magic persisted through undeath. If he had truly died.
A wonder.
Appearance
| Height 6'1 |
| Build Strong and Flexible |
| Hair Dark Brown |
| Eyes Silver |
Sturdy isn't quite the word to use for him, because he is still an elf. But due to all his combat training he certainly stands a little stronger than his more magicky kin. Although strength isn't what he pours his all into. He was a warrior in the dexterity sense so he is a little more flexible and slippery to fight. Dodging, weaving, bending, and irritating his opponents are his go-tos if he has to face people head on.
Astera stands at an average height for his kind, with thick, wavy dark brown hair, and his skin on the warmer side of fair. His hair can change as often as one changes their mind. Sometimes its cropped short, other times he lets it grow to about shoulder length, tying it half up until he gets sick of it and chops it all off again. His mood doth change often.
His eyes are still the pupilless sort elves are known to have but since The Incident they have lost a lot of their opalescence. There is a hint of colour here and there, some wisps of light amber... but they're like quicksilver most of, if not all of, the time.
Astera stands at an average height for his kind, with thick, wavy dark brown hair, and his skin on the warmer side of fair. His hair can change as often as one changes their mind. Sometimes its cropped short, other times he lets it grow to about shoulder length, tying it half up until he gets sick of it and chops it all off again. His mood doth change often.
His eyes are still the pupilless sort elves are known to have but since The Incident they have lost a lot of their opalescence. There is a hint of colour here and there, some wisps of light amber... but they're like quicksilver most of, if not all of, the time.
Personality
Impish • Protective • Incisive • Curt • Cold • Vengeful
On the very surface, Astera is a very short, cold and ... direct individual. If the word "apathy" had a picture next to it, it would be his. In a lot of ways it was true. He cares little for the 'good of all' or even an acquaintance's wellbeing. One would almost use the word "selfish" to describe him, but it doesn't quite fit there -- perhaps when he was a little younger his own goals outweighed everything else. "No" is his favourite word and he will use it liberally in nearly every instance of being asked something. accompanied by a sneer so practiced, so well used, one would think that was his default expression.
There are other faucets to this man's less than... warm reception. There is loyalty, its just hard earned and slow to build. Perhaps saving his "life" and giving him purpose fast tracks it slightly, but their ideals could become his under the right circumstances. Once you have his loyalty, he is yours, no matter his bitter 'stick up the ass' disposition. That bleeds into his protective nature, which could sometimes be mistaken for possessive under different lighting. Despite his upbringing, he doesn't quite like devoting his "life" to people or ideals, but his blade (or blades) are yours and he will fight for those he's loyal to.
Beneath that he isn't all dour, or sneers.
There was once a boy who loved getting into things, who loved a good trick, a good "heist" and just getting into all kinds of nearly harmless trouble. That person still exists. Once one peels back the sour layers, there is a playful individual who will grace others with a smile, or smirk (again, lighting). Perhaps it was how he took to piracy as easily as he had, even under his captain's more... idealy ideals. He owes him his life, after all, but maybe he's been influenced into something less dark and... well... Who knows what lies at the end of Astera's goals.
Since, waking up, since loosing his life, her life... failing her and failing to protect them during that day, since he was under someone else's command for five-fucking-years. He yearns to sink his blade into those responsible. If he could take their life like they took his, he'd make them dance as the puppet he was supposedly made into. To make them suffer would complete him. So to say that revenge wasn't a dark faucet of Astera's personality, as new as it is.... would be a severe understatement.
Will revenge consume him, or will he be content to let live and let live?
Skills
• Shroudweaving
Once, he was tumbling fast towards being quite talented at manipulating the elements, especially water and, more specifically, ice. Before the incident he was even working on imbuing weapons. Unfortunately, since The Incident his connection with the Shroud is flimsy at best, completely inaccessible at worst. He's simply an elf with no more than cute nearly harmless parlor tricks -- if anything at all. He tries not to manipulate it, or engage with it at all if he could avoid it. Even coming in contact with it makes him feel ill, light headed, often accompanied by pain.
• Thievery and Sleight of Hand
His first love. How much could he get away with without getting caught? Once he learned how to not get caught, it turned out the answer was quite a bit. If one happened to get caught how to hide the coveted object became very important, too. Distract and conceal. Who knew Thievery, skulking around, and the like would become his primary profession?
• Combat
If it has a blade he can use it. Weapon combat is a dance and Astera knows most of the steps. Throw him a dagger, a sword or a halberd and he'll wield it like he was born with it. He loves wielding two weapons, or a dual ended blade. If you throw him a shield, it would surely be discarded not long after. Why block when you can parry and riposte with the same weapons?
Once, he was tumbling fast towards being quite talented at manipulating the elements, especially water and, more specifically, ice. Before the incident he was even working on imbuing weapons. Unfortunately, since The Incident his connection with the Shroud is flimsy at best, completely inaccessible at worst. He's simply an elf with no more than cute nearly harmless parlor tricks -- if anything at all. He tries not to manipulate it, or engage with it at all if he could avoid it. Even coming in contact with it makes him feel ill, light headed, often accompanied by pain.
• Thievery and Sleight of Hand
His first love. How much could he get away with without getting caught? Once he learned how to not get caught, it turned out the answer was quite a bit. If one happened to get caught how to hide the coveted object became very important, too. Distract and conceal. Who knew Thievery, skulking around, and the like would become his primary profession?
• Combat
If it has a blade he can use it. Weapon combat is a dance and Astera knows most of the steps. Throw him a dagger, a sword or a halberd and he'll wield it like he was born with it. He loves wielding two weapons, or a dual ended blade. If you throw him a shield, it would surely be discarded not long after. Why block when you can parry and riposte with the same weapons?
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