The elven bloodline is one of purity and regulation. To outsiders, the
elven kind are known as self-righteous and prideful, but in rebuttal, the
elves also believe that outsiders lack discipline and moral fortitude. The
people of the elven nation of Quvinost were no different, and were even
considered among their cousins as a regimented, militaristic clan who found
more beauty in combat than in the nature around them. Among this nation,
the children of the royal families were required by law to elect a son from
each family at the age of ten to represent their name, signet and stature in
Qushu army. This was an incredible responsibility for the child elected,
but was law and therefore was mandatory. In the family of Vykdal, Avyradolm
was selected.
Avyradolm was an anxious and scrupulous child. The oldest of his siblings,
he was forced to age quickly in order to prepare for the life of a soldier.
His father was a renown general who was also known more for his strict and
often unorthodox methods of training. For instances, the trials of
inception into the Army only required the child to be proficient with two
weapons, but Avyradolms father required him to be familiar with every
weapon, often forcing Avyradolm to spend sleepless nights training until his
father found some satisfaction in his actions. This lifestyle began for
Avyradolm when he was old enough to hold a sword. The harshness of his
fathers expectation left Avyradolm lonely, lacking friends or community. He
was quiet, reserved and often distant, even when in company of other
children. During the morning hours, Avyradolm was taught to think in
military tactics, routines and to always question those around you.
Six years had passed since the first day of training, and Avyradolm had
grown into a finely tuned soldier. The trials were upon the families, and
Avyradolm stepped forward with quivering hands, shivering at the noise and
attention. As he approached the entrance to the Halls of War, his father
stood at the gates in legendary battle armor that shone with brilliance of
unquenchable fire. Avyradolm felt his body stiffen as he stepped closer to
the gates, deeper into his fathers gaze. Standing at the gates, his father
looked at him with swirling blue eyes that were stern and aged, hardened by
war. Avyradolm bowed his head, in respect, in fear. At that moment, a firm
grip almost seemed to crush Avyradolms shoulder, and another hand lifted his
head gently to meet his fathers eyes. Their eyes locked, and Avyradolm saw
the stiff, emotionless face of father ease into a soft, subtle smile which
quickly fell from his face to give way to these words that still ring in
Avyradoms ears today: Listen to your heart, my boy, for that is your
strongest weapon. With those words, the horns blared and Avyradolm was
thrown into the trials of passage.
Description:
A mass of golden blonde hair falls past a beautifully chiseled, strong
jaw. The appearance of this man is immaculate. Narrow eyes peer with keen
intensity, holding the color of deep ocean waves. His skin is extremely
smooth, undamaged by the rays of the sun. However, there are places on his
arms and hands that you notice signs of battle and experience. His body is
strong and well porportioned. His chest is strong and muscular, although
lean. His thin, soft lips curve into a mischevious grin, parting just
enough to see his pearly white canines. There is something about this man
that seems to stand out, but it is not apparent.