So yes, this is the first prompt I have got my lazy butt around to fulfilling. HOO-rah. I'll attempt better involvement in the future. (^_^)
Basics:
Name: Nathan; the rest of his old name is lost
Nickname(s): Blue Druid
Age/Birthday: he doesn’t remember and doesn’t care
Height: 5’10 ½”
Weight: 155; 180 with his robes (equivalent US pounds)
Hair: Blue
Eyes: probably blue, but the milky film over them makes determining color difficult
Relationships:
Family: long deceased
Significant other or prospects: none
Closest friends: none
Enemies: “witch” hunters, always in fresh supply
Any other relationships: none
Personality and beliefs:
Religion: doesn’t care
Likes: hot soup; starry nights; solitude
Dislikes: priers, well-intentioned or no; large crowds; himself
Three strengths: resourcefulness; foresight; strong will
Three weaknesses: unhealthily introverted; caustic temper; intolerance
Talents: magic; empathy; wildlife knowledge; regeneration (often against his will)
Pessimist, optimist, or realist?: Realist.
Outer goal: to wreak vengeance on those responsible for his transformation
Inner goal: to die
History:
Important background information: Originally a blond, blue-eyed, kind-faced journeyman student of magic, Nathan was abducted by powerful magi deemed “dark practitioners” and subjected to intense psychological torture in the form of magical experiments intended to warp his being into a half-spirit wizard and a total slave. Numerous rituals were required to produce the desired effect, but during one of the final rites the magi’s hold was assaulted by opposing forces—one of the first skirmishes of a war—and Nathan was freed, and escaped the keep by sheer happenstance.
He remained unaware of much of anything for some time, wandering about in a half daze and instinctively staying near woods or forests as much as possible. When he finally came to his senses, he was in front of an inn along a highway and decided to stay for the night, attributing the curious glances and stares and the innkeeper’s generosity in putting him up free of charge to his atrocious appearance, which he guessed looked about as good as he felt.
His room had a mirror. Upon realizing what he had been twisted into, he panicked and all but destroyed the room, fleeing the inn and into the forest, until he came to a high cliff and cast himself over it. He struck several outcroppings on the way down its face and landed hard on the ground, where he lay bleeding and waiting to die.
Then his magic ravaged him, healing him.
Criminal record: none, unless one counts the summary conviction of witch.
Happiest time in his life: the fortnight he once spent at an orphanage before his transformation; he had loved children
Any traumatic events: see above historical information
Education level: he had departed from his school of magic with his instructor’s blessing; he enjoys the pursuit of knowledge and indulges it whenever he is not fending off witch hunters
Occupations: travelling hermit
Random facts:
Phobias: the open plain
Blood type: unknown; not only is such identification impossible in this era, but his blood always evaporates into blue light while he is regenerating.
Sleeping habits: he rests when he is tired
Speech patterns: taciturn unless provoked, then bitingly acerbic.
Favorite food: hot vegetable stew and buttered rolls
Scars: [not yet considered]
Anything he always carries: one gnarled oak staff
Favorite color: doesn’t care; it is NOT blue
Biggest pet peeve: busybodies
Childhood ambition: can’t remember
============================================
I am not in the mood for idle conversation. I am never in the mood for idle conversation. Look at me. I am sitting here, alone, staring into my soup without looking around or pressing my accursed nose into the business of people who quite obviously do not wish to mingle. I am not attempting to feign sympathy for the blue-haired freak in the corner who looks like he could use some company.
He couldn’t. He would much rather finish his soup and be on his way, without useless interruptions.
Oh yes, you were just trying to start a conversation. Thank you, I had no idea. Let me give you a tip for future reference. If you see someone who looks as though they are trying very hard not to bore holes in the table with their eyes, they most likely want to be left alone.
Ha ha, my hood. You can’t see my eyes because of my hood. Of course. Let just help you with that.
There. That better? Are you satisfied, now that you can the vile skin that covers them? Or are you suppressing the urge to vomit right here on the floor?
Oh. Obviously not. Don’t worry, though. I’m sure someone will clean it up.
What happened to me? Well, now, that is an excellent question. There are two ways to answer it, too, but the first way is long and tiresome and would make me even less pleasant to be around than I already am, and the second quicker way would probably kill you. So how about you just go back to your table and grumble about me under your breath?
What a retort. And no, the pleasure was all mine.
Especially now that my soup is cold.
(comments on following page)
