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Alter Aeon Player Lookup



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Name: irdryd Proper name: Irdryd Ground string: Irdryd is here. Title: The Incarnation of War Created: Fri Jun 30 07:39:45 2017 Description ----------------------------------------------------- A pair of mysterious, yet somehow familiar eyes gaze into yours - their icy blue stare plunging to the bottom of your soul. The eyes are set deep within the sockets of a pale, white, almost skeletal face - mostly covered by a whispy, almost spectral or ethereal white beard. Supported by a stocky frame, his almost squarish head is large, and a series of long, white, sinewy braids flow down to the middle of his back. Several tattoos are visible on his hands, neck and near his right eye, they appear to be so me type of runic writing and glow with a ghostly light. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Personality ----------------------------------------------------- Irdryd can be somewhat of a loose cannon, almost chaotic at times, but generally his intentions are good. If one were to describe his persona, it is one of the anti-hero, sometimes dark, brooding, but in the end he tends to be involved in saving the day. He can be fickle and flip his strategy on a whim, or a feeling from his intuition that other people find difficult to understand. Mentally, he is always on the battlefield and considers most things in life as they relate to war. ----------------------------------------------------------------- History --------------------------------------------------------- Irdryd Kayne was born as the bastard son of a nobleman who had an affair with one of his maids. Irdryd's mother never told the father, as she feared that he would take the baby from her or even have her and the baby killed. She simply vanished from her living quarters on the enormous estate in the middle of the night, managing to steal a horse and ride straight through to the furthest away town she could reach with her limited supplies. Irdryd grew up going to school and working in the tavern in his spare time, learning responsibility and saving up his coin. Something inside made him feel as though he was destined for something greater than working in a bar his whole life. One day as he was running between school and work, he happened upon an old knight who had fallen off his horse in his armor and couldn't get back up. He helped the old knight, who thanked the boy and invited him to become his squire and learn the ways of knighthood. Irdryd grew up going to school and working in the tavern in his spare time, learning responsibility and saving up his coin. Something inside made him feel as though he was destined for something greater than working in a bar his whole life. One day as he was running between school and work, he happened upon an old knight who had fallen off his horse in his armor and couldn't get back up. He helped the old knight, who thanked the boy and invited him to become his squire and learn the ways of knighthood. After saying goodbye to his adopted parents, who were quite proud of his achievement of becoming a squire, he set forth unto the land with the old knight, helping him with competitons and even in a few small skirmishes. When Irdryd was about seventeen years old, the knight who had been training him for several years now happened to pass away in his sleep before a big competition. Rather than have the old man's honor die with him that day, Irdryd himself decided to don his antique armor and fight the day, not for his own glory, but for that of the old man who he so dearly loved, almost as a father. After winning several events in the competition with his seemingly natural prowess, Irdryd went on to the final event, the joust, with the hopes that he could go the rest of the day without removing his helmet, and the old knight could retire a champion of the realm. Unfortunately during the battle, although Irdryd managed to knock the other rider from his horse, winning the contest, his helmet was removed with an opposing strike. There, exposed to the crowd, Irdryd - though quite muscular and stout, was still quite obviously a teenager. The crowd grew silent, awaiting the response from the boy turned knight imposter. Irdryd thought for a moment, about his fallen master, about his family back home at the tavern. What he said next would guide his future...did he tell the truth and give the name his mother picked for him? Or did he give some other name, a work of fiction, to try and potentially escape trouble in this situation. Finally he spoke, in a rather low tone for a boy of seventeen, 'I am, my mother named me Irdryd Kayne.' Gasps and glances washed over the crowd like a tidal wave. A bizarre look came over the nobleman's face, seemingly almost not knowing what to do. Irdryd was so unprepared for this reaction that as his horse backed up a bit, he almost fell off. Again, just as things were getting out of control, a nobleman stood up and said, 'Well thank you all for coming, and it would be my honor to have the squire known as Irdryd Kayne at my banquet hall tonight as the guest of honor, for he is our new champion of the rea lm and winner of the competition! Any questions about his lineage may be brought before the court at a later time, tonight we feast!' After talking for some time in the coming weeks, it was established that Irdryd was in fact the son of the Lord Kayne, and as he had no other children, it made Irdryd the heir to the title of Lord and all the lands and money that came along with it. As it stood, Irdryd was officially made a knight of the realm and given also the title of Baron and a small bit of his father's lands with a couple towns and an estate of his own. Since Evedren had gone so long without a son and thought he would never have an heir, he went to great lengths to help his son to become a great nobleman. Unfortunately, as always happens, a war came across the land, and after a string of consecutive victories as father and son, Irdryd fell in battle. Still a young man at the age of about twenty one, his throat was slit from behind, ear to ear, as he tried to help defend his father. As the blood rushed out of his body, the soul of his being poured out with it, and with the intervention of the Gods, became a demigod of sorts, a unique depiction of war incarnate. Represented often with blood and the color cri mson, there is a small cult following who believe in his power called the Crimson Enclave. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Level Mage: 103 Cler: 103 Thie: 103 Warr: 103 Necr: 103 Drui: 103 Total levels in all classes: 618

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