Count Horukh the Silver

Rough portrait so far; still need to add his sleeves, jewelry and staff, and amp up his sheen with more highlights. To simulate his seizures, shake your monitor violently for one minute.

Really neat! Talk soon / Game soon / I'll continue with you this week and catch up to your awesome progress and ideas

Count Horukh The Silver of the Altan Main. My parents did not claim me as their child. They acknowledged me, and I would on occasion be presented in proper finery, after a servant tutored me in what to say, but my parents never changed their schedules to be with me, nor show great affection. They never boasted of me. They acknowledged me. They were always so good at hiding their emotions apart from their expressions that even now, I can’t tell if they honestly resented me. I was taller than both of them before I even reached mating age, and I grew even taller after that, though… frailer. Most kenku, most creatures in the world, get stronger when coming of age, but I got weaker. Their resentment---or disregard---or distancing---was likley because I did not look like them, or any kenku known, really. There have been albinos before, and leucistic, melanistic, and irridescent-feathered kenku, but I feathered in colorless. Not transparent, but rather, a neutral, shimmery grey. I call it silver, because I don’t like the dying-by-fire implications of calling myself “ash.” Even my eyes are especially bright, not quite mirrored, but… not… normal for a kenku. My skin is black, which gives the eyes an even more stark contrast. When I am angry and my hackles get up, I am told that I seem much bigger than I really am. I give that impression, I mean. I don’t change size or anything like that. I only seem to change my role in life, and my clothing, and who I am around from time to time. The unbearable loneliness of it gets to me and I feel myself slipping towards what I have seen in others as madness. I listen and learn and try to immerse myself in what the world is like. And yet, the more I learn, the more terrified I am to actually be out---there. The world is a place where everything will consume me. I am only marginally safe in cities, castles, citadels, or mansteries. Even thirty feet outside a keep wall, I am afraid, because I have read of the things that will snatch me away if I have a moment’s inattention. I am not---cowardly---I hope---but I know that a single jaw-crunch would leave me crippled and stranded. But the world, out there---I have to see it. I have to venture into it. In the past three years, I brokered a shipping lane mutual aid agreement. My time in the maritime castles and fortified bays made me look upon the ships and their crews and muse: if safety was the reason for a ship, then no ship would ever leave the dock. Ships sail because risk is how things change. I know I need to go out into the world and away from the cities, and I know it will hurt a lot. I will know terror, and I will be more alone than ever. But how do I know that? I am seized by visions. They do not creep in gently. They feel very much like being speared through the chest, they feel as if they are… thrown from afar, with great force. They strike with only moments of warning, and squeeze the life from me, to leave me paralyzed or shaking, blinded. They change me somehow, every time---they make me feel like something has been added to me. The visions are how I know that my future will hurt, very much, because I have seen myself being tortured, tormented, pushed into searing madness and sometimes, engulfed in flame that crisps me away to ashes but it is not the end of me. I do not know why. Sometimes, they are brutal to endure, but the visions themselves are of beautiful places, or feelings of love for me, approval, friendship, and then I am lurched out of the vision’s grip. I have spoken with many learned folk, who have theories about it all. In doing so, I only became more of a mystery to them, the courts, and myself. I was studied by high priests of three goddesses and pantheons, and with them, divine power ignited inside me. Before long, I was awarded vestments by them, embroidered with a sacred symbol of life and hope---the ankh. As I donned it, I felt myself anchored somehow, as if a distant archer finally locked his sight upon me, and followed me with his aim. I studied what little there was about the symbol, and discovered a massive pantheon of deities and powers: some of them coexisting within each other, some plural, and some personified into representatives on the world who would determine what the gods would do. The more I concentrated on the ankh, the more clear my visions became, and I could recover easier every time. Yet still, thee are no words spoken to me, and clue just who makes them happen. So, I decided, if no god or goddess will outright claim me, then I shall claim myself. I will behave the way I think is right, and when it is time for me to be judged, I will stand in honesty. Two years later I easily passed my trials of statecraft and law, and I was given my Chain of State and appointed as Count Horukh. My parents did not attend, but my appointment seemed to please three-quarters of the nobilty, and the parties lasted for days. I was an anomaly, you see, because I was personable. I knew my station, but that didn’t mean others were worthless to me. I thanked the porters and carriagemen, I ensured that gifts were sent to my retainers’ families for the solstices. When I had helpers for my studies they left with letters of recommendation and full pockets. I overcompensated because I was lonely, and their smiles filled me a little. But, behind it all, the visions meant I could never be alone, and I could never completely protect myself. I had to accept the humility of knowing that I was prey. I followed the stories of explorers and adventurers, and attended the salons. But I don’t think I can ever be a hero. Heroes go on adventures, endure harsh elements, and kill dire monsters. I would snap like a dry twig, trying to be like them. I try to be a hero in other ways. I make sure people can be educated, and I championed the shipwrights and hawsers in securing hospitaler shacks in every port on the coastline, by the addition of a minor levy on lading. Any seaworker or their kin can go there if they’re injured, and twice a week they teach shipboard medicine. Seaward Library Trunks are being made now, too, so those on long hauls can do more than whittle. I am proud of those. And in treaty or passage mediation, since hardly anyone knows what the ankh means, everyone assumes I retain my trustworthiness and neutrality in negotiations, without playing to any deity’s agenda. I work hard, I study hard, I practice, and my social circles grow ever-stronger. But. That terrifying world is out there. There is a part of me that feels like I am doing these deeds so I can avoid myself. I can’t anymore. I wear the ankh. And, the ankh wears me. And it is impatient.

Thanks Larry ! Detailed, creative character introduction. The drawing-draft is stunning work. We appreciate your contributions. Every player is encouraged to take the time, read Count Horukh's introduction story. It will be interesting to play & see this character developing and roleplaying from here on in.

MUCH sharper version is here : <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/view/ng6mh4p2dpiqvk4/HorukhSharper.jpg" rel="nofollow">http://www.mediafire.com/view/ng6mh4p2dpiqvk4/HorukhSharper.jpg</a> JOURNAL “Contentious” Corientius, my opposite number in the Coastliner Maritime Border Treaty, looked no happier whether he was arguing a subsection, or soused on wine, or, I presume, he had piles the size of thorn bushes. If a scowl could be a human, Corientius would be it. The scribes were as weary of him as I was, so we all looked to the windows with relief when the shouts rang through the bay. Even as the tow biremes left their moorings, a runner came to us, to tell us: The Sea Ghost was coming in to port. Work at the shipyards ground to a halt, even on the Broadcutter. People of all races and trades came out to witness the event; it was true. The lost merchant ship, infamous as a pirate raider after it was taken, was being brought back to its home port. No one knew who commanded it now, but by the look of it they were lucky to be alive. The mainmast was split and sails torn, rigging tangled and railings wrecked. The tow vessels cast off of the hulk quickly, and let its momentum bring it in to scrape and collide with the dock. Three whistles caught the attention of a chaircab’s pullers and I was taken through the crowds directly to the gangway. The vessel listed to port, and offbeam by a few degrees. Instantly I wanted to see more. I could learn much from seeing its years of abuse up close, and find ways that its structure might have suffered. I thanked my bearers and properly overpaid them, and strode up the gangway as if I owned it. The usual officials were there, and with them, their usual greed. Those on deck were a wild collection of creatures, all well-armed and any of them looked to be ready for a scrap. I didn’t need a map to tell that if I did not step in and smooth the way, this vessel could be in contention for months at least. I insinuated myself into the center of it all, of course. I won’t say that the vultures were circling, for vultures are honorable birds and very pleasant company, really. Vultures have little interest in graft, unlike the dock officials and sheriffry. So I maneuvered. Set up, draw in, query, sidestep, query, riposte, sacrificial offer, feign indecision, counter-offer; I knew this dance. I set its beat, and guided the locals to its end with everything but a bow for applause. The adventuring group---by now there was no doubt it was such---were led off the vessel after a fat finders-fee negotiation, and brought to a hero’s celebration. A beautiful local human lady even sat in to record their stories, while I made sure the good drinks kept flowing. I watched how the group members reacted to each other and to the environment. It was a spectacularly disparate crew, but they knew each others’ movements and anticipated each others’ needs. In fact this was not a crew, but rather, a team. Maybe something more. Plans unfolded in my mind. I could learn much from them.