(OOC) The Bonds That Tie Us
- Thread starter Maeriel
- Start date
Shadras
Illogical
So I've been rereading my post about Nordic religion, Sehnsucht, and I've been drawn with an idle ambition to write more of Tristan Gran and his book. Before I go on, thank you guys for reading it. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Now, I've been idly inspired to write more, especially considering the generality of it all and the lack of legends. However, I'd like to ask if the group would be interested in reading more and for permission to do so as writing more excerpts would establish quite a bit of lore that could easily bleed into other races. I'm asking for interest because I don't think I'd write it if there isn't any interest in reading it. I'd just keep it in my head. I'm asking for permission because it could change concepts about the Nords that aren't supposed to be messed with. Naturally, anything I write is more than open to criticism and I certainly welcome it. That, and I'd be willing to change what I write to fit established lore. Please consider it!
Hey, I for one would like to read it yes 
Just indeed, as you stated, as you grow deeper into pinning down the ephemera of this setting, there are great possibilities of clashing with raw ideas of it, but we can all discuss what we find best. I think the more vivid a world starts getting, the more we can play around with stories in it too.
Just indeed, as you stated, as you grow deeper into pinning down the ephemera of this setting, there are great possibilities of clashing with raw ideas of it, but we can all discuss what we find best. I think the more vivid a world starts getting, the more we can play around with stories in it too.
Valen
Well-Known Member
Name: Sindarin Kel'Iallan
"When you look at me, what do you see? Do you see someone who, as outcast from his own kind, has tried to seek refuge and shelter amongst the people of Yrmanth? Do you see someone who would look to use their own power to aid and protect you? Or do you only see a malicious, savage elf? You will only ever see what you want to see, regardless of what the truth may be."
Appearance
Appearances can be deceptive. Just because I come to you as one of the elves, and that I am hunted does not mean that I wish you harm or plan to steal your soul. I too, bear the marks of a hardship, and should you look under the surface, you will see the truth of who I am.
When one first looks upon Sindarin, one would be forgiven for thinking that they were gazing upon a creature of the netherworld. Sindarin's appearance is symbolic of the pain and hardship he has suffered in his attempts to live life. His white hair hangs limply and loosely from his head. But perhaps more telling are the numerous angry scars that are scoured across pallid, pale flesh. Sindarin has suffered in his exile from his people, and that suffering is evident across each and every cut.
Beneath the leather jerkin he favours, things are even worse. Dozens, hundreds of terrible, terrible cuts are gouged into his flesh, and his body is caked with dried blood.
Yet, despite this indignity, Sindarin carries himself with a quiet dignity. He bears his treatment with the fierce pride that resides within his heart and soul. And despite his temple of mangled flesh, his golden eyes sparkle with the spirit of a hunter. A spirit that keeps him alive, and keeps him breathing in and out despite the injustices that are perpetrated against him.
Personality
What is it you wish to know fair traveller? There is perhaps much to puzzle out with regards to me, and I do accept that in some ways, perhaps a lot of ways, I am an enigma to you. Why would one such as me stay here regardless of the treatment that is meted out? The truth is simple. I am a practical person, and the choice that is presented to me is one of stark contrast. To stay here, to bear the treatment is the lesser of two evils. The alternative is death, and I am not ready to die yet.
Sindarin is an enigma to most save the very few souls that he considers to be his friends. This softly-spoken fae is a being of very few words, but when he does speak, he does so with integrity and purpose. Outcast from his own people and treated with contempt and hatred from most, Sindarin, perhaps understandably, cloaks himself in a veil of secrecy and mystery.
Here, beneath the impenetrable shell that he keeps raised around him, Sindarin is safe from the worst excesses that humanity would seek to inflict upon him. It is not the beatings or physical punishment that Sindarin fears. Far from it, this treatment he has come to expect from those who are ignorant of his true nature or the soul of clear-blue grace that burns inside of him. No, what Sindarin fears is allowing someone to pierce that barrier. To learn to trust someone, and call them friend, only to have them let him down or betray him is something that Sindarin fears to the very core of his being, and he will do everything in his power to avoid that fate.
Thus Sindarin is guarded and reserved, true, but to those who take the time to break down the walls, they will find a loyal and dependable companion.
Background
Be careful what you wish for friend. Do not delve too much into a past that you do not want to hear. What I have to tell you will perhaps shock you to the very core. As it should, for I have always lived in a world of two different halves. One foot in the realm of humanity and one foot in the realm of nature, it was an unhappy marriage that has permeated and tainted my tortured existence.
Is this what you really want?
Perhaps the fears of the superstitious, goodly folk of Yrmant are in some ways correct when it comes to the fae. There are some tribes of the people that are both savage and feral in their nature. There are some that enjoy war, and waging war on the so-called lesser races. There are some across the fae who are both primal and bloodthirsty, and it is they who are the ones to be feared.
Young Sindarin Kel'Iallan was born to one such tribe in the northlands. He drew his first breath on this world under a fearsome storm. As the elements ravaged and tore the land asunder, and lightning scoured and burned the earth, so it was that Sindarin came into this life. Some whispered mutterings amongst this tribe of fae said that the child's birth was a bad omen, and that he should be killed to appease the gods. Yet the common sense of the tribe's elders won out, the babe was spared.
In time, they would come to regret that choice.
It was clear from a young age that Sindarin was different from the war-loving people of his tribe. He did not wish to bathe in the blood of his enemies. Young Sindarin was touched by nature. His own nature was gentle and benign. There was nothing inside of the fabric of his being that wished to harm another. Sindarin only wanted his people to co-exist with the humans. He was benevolent and pacifistic, two traits that were diametrically opposed to his fierce, war-loving kin.
And for his own part, Sindarin did not find a kinship with his flesh and blood. He spent more time amongst the animals of the north. His own unusual abilities, and his ability to communicate with the animals on a basic level only further increased the mistrust and suspicion that he was greeted with.
Things came to a head during Sindarin's coming of age ceremony. Dispatched with a couple of his tribe's trackers, Sindarin was tasked with tracking and bringing down one of the hated Nords. Of course, when it finally came time to do the deed, Sindarin did not have the heart to go through with the task. He was not, after all, a heartless killer. Yet his hesitation cost the tribe dear. The Nord not only escaped, but in doing so killed both of the trackers accompanying Sindarin.
The elder's response when Sindarin returned was swift and brutal. Sindarin was beaten to death and left in the harsh snows to die. He was branded on his shoulder, the mark of an exile, should he survive. The elders did not believe he would survive, but survive he did. Wounded, Sindarin dragged himself to safety, and eventually, after nursing himself back to health and months of travel, came to settle outside the city of Braedon.
What he found there was not much better than where he had come from. Distrusted and hated for his heritage, Sindarin would find himself reviled at best, and beaten at worst. This was a common occurrence for Sindarin, yet he became used to the treatment over time. And it was, in a way, better than the alternative.
"When you look at me, what do you see? Do you see someone who, as outcast from his own kind, has tried to seek refuge and shelter amongst the people of Yrmanth? Do you see someone who would look to use their own power to aid and protect you? Or do you only see a malicious, savage elf? You will only ever see what you want to see, regardless of what the truth may be."
Appearance
Appearances can be deceptive. Just because I come to you as one of the elves, and that I am hunted does not mean that I wish you harm or plan to steal your soul. I too, bear the marks of a hardship, and should you look under the surface, you will see the truth of who I am.
When one first looks upon Sindarin, one would be forgiven for thinking that they were gazing upon a creature of the netherworld. Sindarin's appearance is symbolic of the pain and hardship he has suffered in his attempts to live life. His white hair hangs limply and loosely from his head. But perhaps more telling are the numerous angry scars that are scoured across pallid, pale flesh. Sindarin has suffered in his exile from his people, and that suffering is evident across each and every cut.
Beneath the leather jerkin he favours, things are even worse. Dozens, hundreds of terrible, terrible cuts are gouged into his flesh, and his body is caked with dried blood.
Yet, despite this indignity, Sindarin carries himself with a quiet dignity. He bears his treatment with the fierce pride that resides within his heart and soul. And despite his temple of mangled flesh, his golden eyes sparkle with the spirit of a hunter. A spirit that keeps him alive, and keeps him breathing in and out despite the injustices that are perpetrated against him.
Personality
What is it you wish to know fair traveller? There is perhaps much to puzzle out with regards to me, and I do accept that in some ways, perhaps a lot of ways, I am an enigma to you. Why would one such as me stay here regardless of the treatment that is meted out? The truth is simple. I am a practical person, and the choice that is presented to me is one of stark contrast. To stay here, to bear the treatment is the lesser of two evils. The alternative is death, and I am not ready to die yet.
Sindarin is an enigma to most save the very few souls that he considers to be his friends. This softly-spoken fae is a being of very few words, but when he does speak, he does so with integrity and purpose. Outcast from his own people and treated with contempt and hatred from most, Sindarin, perhaps understandably, cloaks himself in a veil of secrecy and mystery.
Here, beneath the impenetrable shell that he keeps raised around him, Sindarin is safe from the worst excesses that humanity would seek to inflict upon him. It is not the beatings or physical punishment that Sindarin fears. Far from it, this treatment he has come to expect from those who are ignorant of his true nature or the soul of clear-blue grace that burns inside of him. No, what Sindarin fears is allowing someone to pierce that barrier. To learn to trust someone, and call them friend, only to have them let him down or betray him is something that Sindarin fears to the very core of his being, and he will do everything in his power to avoid that fate.
Thus Sindarin is guarded and reserved, true, but to those who take the time to break down the walls, they will find a loyal and dependable companion.
Background
Be careful what you wish for friend. Do not delve too much into a past that you do not want to hear. What I have to tell you will perhaps shock you to the very core. As it should, for I have always lived in a world of two different halves. One foot in the realm of humanity and one foot in the realm of nature, it was an unhappy marriage that has permeated and tainted my tortured existence.
Is this what you really want?
Perhaps the fears of the superstitious, goodly folk of Yrmant are in some ways correct when it comes to the fae. There are some tribes of the people that are both savage and feral in their nature. There are some that enjoy war, and waging war on the so-called lesser races. There are some across the fae who are both primal and bloodthirsty, and it is they who are the ones to be feared.
Young Sindarin Kel'Iallan was born to one such tribe in the northlands. He drew his first breath on this world under a fearsome storm. As the elements ravaged and tore the land asunder, and lightning scoured and burned the earth, so it was that Sindarin came into this life. Some whispered mutterings amongst this tribe of fae said that the child's birth was a bad omen, and that he should be killed to appease the gods. Yet the common sense of the tribe's elders won out, the babe was spared.
In time, they would come to regret that choice.
It was clear from a young age that Sindarin was different from the war-loving people of his tribe. He did not wish to bathe in the blood of his enemies. Young Sindarin was touched by nature. His own nature was gentle and benign. There was nothing inside of the fabric of his being that wished to harm another. Sindarin only wanted his people to co-exist with the humans. He was benevolent and pacifistic, two traits that were diametrically opposed to his fierce, war-loving kin.
And for his own part, Sindarin did not find a kinship with his flesh and blood. He spent more time amongst the animals of the north. His own unusual abilities, and his ability to communicate with the animals on a basic level only further increased the mistrust and suspicion that he was greeted with.
Things came to a head during Sindarin's coming of age ceremony. Dispatched with a couple of his tribe's trackers, Sindarin was tasked with tracking and bringing down one of the hated Nords. Of course, when it finally came time to do the deed, Sindarin did not have the heart to go through with the task. He was not, after all, a heartless killer. Yet his hesitation cost the tribe dear. The Nord not only escaped, but in doing so killed both of the trackers accompanying Sindarin.
The elder's response when Sindarin returned was swift and brutal. Sindarin was beaten to death and left in the harsh snows to die. He was branded on his shoulder, the mark of an exile, should he survive. The elders did not believe he would survive, but survive he did. Wounded, Sindarin dragged himself to safety, and eventually, after nursing himself back to health and months of travel, came to settle outside the city of Braedon.
What he found there was not much better than where he had come from. Distrusted and hated for his heritage, Sindarin would find himself reviled at best, and beaten at worst. This was a common occurrence for Sindarin, yet he became used to the treatment over time. And it was, in a way, better than the alternative.