noobplusone
2011-04-05, 09:15 PM
Vicben was born into a rather large community of halflings, the village of mistyvale witch had a population of over a thousand. Being one of the largest Halfling only communities, the shadow halflings were very plentiful and rarely noticed by any of the other halflings. These was a plus for him, for many smaller communities of halflings would be ashamed of him, and treat him as if he was a burden. But in this community, many shadow halflings began training at a very young age, to hone their racial talents and learn secret techniques passed down for many generations. Many of the shadow halflings became rogues, assassins, and archers. Few of the very talented were given access to the secrets of the prowlers… A well hidden organization composed of roughly thirty shadow halflings. These halflings were excellent at silent, ranged assassination and attacking with thrown weapons. The favored of all weapons for this small band of prowlers would be the chakram. They favor this weapon due to the fact that it can be used effectively in ranged, and hand to hand combat if needed. The whole town worshiped Hermes as their deity, and when he would show himself to the towns people he was offered anything and everything from the town and its people.
He was raised by his single mother, who herself was a very powerful prowler. Her name was Araemita Silentall, and she began his training before he was able to speak. She turned his everyday life into one big training session, constantly pushing his skills to their limits. As he grew older, he began to train under other members of the Prowler society. Spending six months of training under each prowler starting at the age of five, he was assured that he would someday be the leader of the prowlers. After spending most of his life constantly being pushed to their limits, he was freed from the anti-social lifestyle of the prowlers and sent out to make a name for himself. Having only a few items packed in a backpack, his two larger than average chakrams, his moms most prized set of chakrams, and the clothes on his back, he was banished from the town for a minimum of five years. Should he return alive any time after the five year mark, they would accept him back in and make him a full-fledged member of the prowlers society.
And so, his adventure started. Vicben silentall was on his own, for the very first time at the age of 22. He didn’t quite know what to expect out of the wild forest he would begin his expedition in, but he was mentally prepared for anything. He survived in the wild on his own for a few months, always traveling along the shoreline following it westbound. As the months dragged on, he seemed to feel a sense of urgency to move faster, as if some unseen force was pulling him ever closer towards wherever he was headed. Then one day, finally it became noticeable to him. A large city, very large was out in the distance. It was at least a two day journey still before he would get to his destination, but he was actually excited to meet new people, and socialize with the many different races he was taught about, but had actually never had any contact with.
Walking up to the large town gates, the young prowler slowly slid his hood off and focused his attention on the dwarven guard who stood outside of the gate. A sly smile spread across his face and he nodded towards the dwarf, with a slight bow. “I am Vicben Silentall, from the neighboring village of Mistyvale. May I be granted entrance to this massive paradise? I assure you I mean no harm.” Speaking to the guard in dwarven tongue, his smile widened and his shoulders rose in a small shrug. The guard looked him over with a scowl then tilted his head slightly and barked out a one syllable code and the wooden gates began to slowly open inward. Excitedly, the Halfling walked towards the opening gates. As he peered through the crack of the doors, he was held breathless at how large, and complex this place really was. He was so used to his small village, where everyone worked together and there was only a bartering system, gold was rarely used where he came from. This place would hold many new experiences for him, many good and many bad. His adventure has only yet begun….
Description:
Standing at 3’1, and weighing only 35lbs he doesn’t seem like he would be much of a threat. His hair is slightly spiky and jet black, always wore slicked back exposing his forehead if his hood is not up. His eyes match his hair, with an eerie grey shine emanating from the centers of them. His skin is a dark tan, as if he had spent most if his life exposed under the hot sun. He wears leather scale male, and a pair of dastanas under his black cloak. Attached to his right arm is a small black buckler, and he had a backpack with a bedroll. He throws his chakrams with his left arm only, because he was trained to do so.
He was raised by his single mother, who herself was a very powerful prowler. Her name was Araemita Silentall, and she began his training before he was able to speak. She turned his everyday life into one big training session, constantly pushing his skills to their limits. As he grew older, he began to train under other members of the Prowler society. Spending six months of training under each prowler starting at the age of five, he was assured that he would someday be the leader of the prowlers. After spending most of his life constantly being pushed to their limits, he was freed from the anti-social lifestyle of the prowlers and sent out to make a name for himself. Having only a few items packed in a backpack, his two larger than average chakrams, his moms most prized set of chakrams, and the clothes on his back, he was banished from the town for a minimum of five years. Should he return alive any time after the five year mark, they would accept him back in and make him a full-fledged member of the prowlers society.
And so, his adventure started. Vicben silentall was on his own, for the very first time at the age of 22. He didn’t quite know what to expect out of the wild forest he would begin his expedition in, but he was mentally prepared for anything. He survived in the wild on his own for a few months, always traveling along the shoreline following it westbound. As the months dragged on, he seemed to feel a sense of urgency to move faster, as if some unseen force was pulling him ever closer towards wherever he was headed. Then one day, finally it became noticeable to him. A large city, very large was out in the distance. It was at least a two day journey still before he would get to his destination, but he was actually excited to meet new people, and socialize with the many different races he was taught about, but had actually never had any contact with.
Walking up to the large town gates, the young prowler slowly slid his hood off and focused his attention on the dwarven guard who stood outside of the gate. A sly smile spread across his face and he nodded towards the dwarf, with a slight bow. “I am Vicben Silentall, from the neighboring village of Mistyvale. May I be granted entrance to this massive paradise? I assure you I mean no harm.” Speaking to the guard in dwarven tongue, his smile widened and his shoulders rose in a small shrug. The guard looked him over with a scowl then tilted his head slightly and barked out a one syllable code and the wooden gates began to slowly open inward. Excitedly, the Halfling walked towards the opening gates. As he peered through the crack of the doors, he was held breathless at how large, and complex this place really was. He was so used to his small village, where everyone worked together and there was only a bartering system, gold was rarely used where he came from. This place would hold many new experiences for him, many good and many bad. His adventure has only yet begun….
Description:
Standing at 3’1, and weighing only 35lbs he doesn’t seem like he would be much of a threat. His hair is slightly spiky and jet black, always wore slicked back exposing his forehead if his hood is not up. His eyes match his hair, with an eerie grey shine emanating from the centers of them. His skin is a dark tan, as if he had spent most if his life exposed under the hot sun. He wears leather scale male, and a pair of dastanas under his black cloak. Attached to his right arm is a small black buckler, and he had a backpack with a bedroll. He throws his chakrams with his left arm only, because he was trained to do so.