Holy Magic Legend Blackavar, Chosen of Idon, a Rakash.
He has an oval face and sapphire eyes. His black hair is short and fine, and is worn tousled. His left ear appears swollen and sore.
He has tanned skin and a burly build.
He is very tall for a Rakash.
He is a pack historian.
His shoulder has a tattoo of a kneeling Rakash thrusting a sword skyward as he is encircled by a ring of spectral apparitions.
A brilliant orb of rippling cerulean light hovers like a will-o-wisp, following him diligently.
He is wearing a storm-bull buckler, a padded fine burlap hood, a padded fine burlap mask, some padded fine burlap gloves, a padded fine burlap hauberk, a layered tei'oloh crossbow with a silk-wrapped witchclaw stock, a cambrinth-plated bone belt covered in dark holy symbols, a deep brown marnet fur cloak pulled close around him, some bloodstained steel-toed boots with tarnished skull buckles, some dolomar carapace footwraps, some heavy leather fighting pants riveted along the seams with ornate bronze studs, a soldier's supply bag, a pale silver prayer bead chain, a wretched skeletal armband grasping a dark cambrinth holy symbol, an exquisite nightsilk haversack, a battle monk's parry stick branded with interlocking holy symbols and a leather-wrapped mistwood sheath.
Fall of a Titan, Rise of A Man?
While mining for Kertig, because who mines for anything less, a terrible cave-in cracked the skull and bashed the brains of the mighty Blackavar. Tragically, an inept empath left a shard of common tin embedded in his brain. Since, there is no greatness in common, and the offending sliver has infected his mind rendering him average, normal, boring... blah. While the extent of this collapse of personality remains to be seen, the only truth that remains is that this tin headed Blackavar is a shell of his former glory. Let us preserve his story for prosperity and hope he is not ruined forever.
World’s Greatest SuperHero: Blackavar Arkarm’s HiStory
Children rarely cause much of a stir in the tiny rakash village of Siksraja. Babies were born into the pack and quickly assimilated. People would occasionally drift away to other adventures, but, their sense of loyalty to the pack would always lead them home.
There was a ripple of concern, when pack alpha’s Johan and Marytha Ky’Nt seemed to to retreat into seclusion. However, the worry quickly turned to joy when they emerged, introducing their new baby boy. Marytha had always been involved with the children of the pack, but the gods had never blessed her with a child of her own. The entire pack considered the new baby to be a gift from the gods themselves, and Johan and Marytha adored their son.
They named the child Blackavar, and his shock of black hair and flashing sapphire eyes, set him apart. As he grew, he proved to be strong and quick to learn, surpassing his peers quickly. His parents pushed to start his education early.
While some praised the child, others grew uneasy. Rumors began to roll thru the pack, and even as he became more visible because of his achievements, he became more and more isolated. Johan and Marytha tried to reassure him, but the whispers wore on the boy and eventually he began to resent the pack. He worked hard to absorb the lessons he was taught, but held himself back. At first, he did it to protect himself from the sneers and comments of the other children, but soon, it was to protect his parents from the muttered accusations of the pack.
When Blackavar was 14, his parents sent him with a group of pack betas to Crossing. He petitioned the cleric guild, and was granted admission, in spite of his young age. He was sent back to Siksraja, with the betas to share the news with his parents and gather his belongings. He would soon return to begin his education in the guild.
During the journey back the village, the group was brutally attacked by a band of Orcs. They came onto the group in waves, thrashing even the best fighters. Blackavar was pushed under the caravan and told to stay, but seeing his pack mates murdered was more than the boy could handle.
The story became one of legend. The survivors claimed that they did not even see him as he moved thru the raiders, systematically destroying them without a sound. Blood ran freely across the trade route, and when the battle ended, Blackavar was kneeling in the center of the carnage without a scratch. Some of the survivors claimed to see a heron weaving through the fight, others said the bird was resting on his shoulder while he kneeled. The only thing they could all agree on, Blackavar saved them, but, they were terrified.
“Blackavar, we’ve talked about this,” Johan chided his son. “They do not understand how special you are.”
“I could not just let them die!”
Johan was tormented. He had worked so hard to keep his son safe within the pack, but he knew that he would not be able to do it forever. They had never lied to their son, but they hadn’t told him the whole truth either. He knew that finally, the time had come.
Marytha watched from the window of their home as her husband walked with their son into the woods, changing their lives forever. She felt as if her heart was breaking, but she held to the hope that Blackavar would find the peace that had eluded him.
Johan walked along side of his son speaking quietly, “From the moment you came to us, your mother and I knew you were destined for great things. We thought that we were protecting you by keeping this story from you, but I know now that we were wrong.
“We met when we were young, and I knew immediately that Marytha would be my future. We courted and married quickly, and dreamt of the day we would have a child of our own. But it seemed the gods had other plans. Years passed and we were never so lucky to add to the pack.
“We had settled into a routine, and the desire faded as we focused on what we could contribute to the pack. We never gave up hope, but knew that our time had passed. Then we found you.”
Eyes wide, the boy stared at the man who raised him. He opened his mouth to speak, but found no words.
“Your mother had come out to the woods for berries. I had injured my leg, and she had been gathering herbs to help it heal. She began to feel as though she was being watched. She looked expecting to see someone following her, but, only saw a heron. At first she ignored it, but, it seemed the bird was following her, or leading. She said she could never be sure.
“She heard your cries first, and then found you lying at the base of a tree. A tiny infant wrapped in cleric’s robe, alone in the woods. She brought you home and we waited. For your parents, to hear of a lost child, something, but, nothing happened and no one came.
“Blackavar, we are selfish people. We convinced ourselves that you were a gift from the gods, and we claimed you as our own. We stayed in hiding for some time, and then introduced you as our son.”
Blackavar stared off into the distance, gathering his thoughts. He had always felt separate from the pack and now, for the first time, he understood why. He felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his soul. He was finally free of the pack and able to follow his destiny.
He spent the next few days with his parents, listening to the story of his discovery over and over. They talked about his childhood, and found an underlying theme. As a baby in his crib, and a child in the yard, and then the Orc attack, the heron was ever present. Marytha knew that it should be impossible, but she was sure that it was the same heron that led her to him. The time came for him to return to the cleric guild to begin his education, and he left his parents with a new hope, and they knew he would achieve all of his goals.
Blackavar established himself in the guild quickly. He pushed through the ranks and showed amazing potential. The guild leaders pushed him to align himself with lighter aspects, but he felt drawn to Idon. He became a fierce fighter and honed his skills by moving silently thru the streets and following his own path.
Rakash are not complete without their pack, and Blackavar is no exception. He found his home at the table of the Arkarm Crime Family, where family will always be first.
Blackavar used to be Superman, don’t argue with me. <3 the player of Synamon