Jheran

Appearance

You are Jheran, a Human. You have a square face, clear colored eyes and a small nose. Your golden brown hair is shoulder length and thick, and is worn arranged in tight dreadlocks. You have tanned skin and an athletic build. You are short for a Human. You are young. You are clean shaven.

You are wearing a lumpy bundle, a sturdy black backpack, some perfect serpent-skin leathers, a storm-bull buckler, a polished bronze belt knife with a wire-wrapped hilt, some faded pants, some scuffed front-tied boots and an iron-banded parry stick with brown leather straps.

Background

A moongate suddenly rippled open on the outskirts of Riverhaven, a cold wind blasting forth from its inky-black shape. Snow followed, drifting out with the wind and melting quickly in the spring air of Therengia. On the other side of the moongate, a group of human elders and one lone young man stood huddled in a circle, the snow swirling around their shapes, covered in white-fur hides - all except the young man, who stood shivering in a pair of faded leather pants, a bronze knife clutched in his hands.

An ancient, weathered human eyed the young man, then spoke in a gruff voice, "You have been told of the visions. You know your quest. Do not return to these lands, or your tribe, until the stars tell you it is time. May Kir's spirit guide you, young shaman."

The shivering young man cracked a smile, despite his current state - that was the first time he had been referred to as a shaman by anyone of his tribe, let alone it's most respected elder. Declining his head in respect, Jheran intoned, "I shall not fail the tribe, or you, elders."

The rest of the men circling Jheran began to chant in hushed tones, their voices carried away by the wind before they reached his ear. He suddenly felt the weight of his ancestor's spirits settle around him, and knew he had been blessed by their presence for protection. Nodding deeply in respect one last time, he turned to look through the moongate, at the foreign land he would have to fight for survival in. Already the look of the trees and soil was so different from the arid steppes he had known for his entire twenty years, that a feeling of trepidation stilled him. Yet the spirits' gentle prods, and of course the whithering gaze of the elders, forced his legs into motion, and his bare feet furrowed the snow as he walked to the moongate.

Refusing to look back, he stepped through the black portal into the warmth of Riverhaven's wilds - the shock of the temperature change reminding him of what he was wearing. His body began to shiver all over again as he looked around, the warmth suffusing him and giving him courage. Eying the town's walls over the trees, he began to head in the direction of the city, his quest begun.