Post by neilevans on Dec 5, 2005 15:24:13 GMT
SENGAI
Sengai hugged his knees and watched as the rain dripped insistently from the brim of his leather hood onto the tip of his long hooked nose and pondered his options. He knew that after the death of Murush he would not be welcome amongst the bandits at the camp anymore, it wasn’t the first time either. Sengai killed his first man at the tender age of eleven and had since killed five more to protect himself in the harsh environment of the camp, an orphan he had had only his wits and the slender sword that no-one else had desired to rely on. A slender youth of seventeen, he lacked the heavy muscle of his camp mates and was singled out for the swarthiness of his skin and the slant to his eyes. Constantly bullied and outcast as a child he had grown up with swift reactions, tall and slender with muscles like knotted cords he had slowly garnered a sort of wary respect from his companions and had been given food instead of begging or stealing for it and allowed to sleep in a tent with blankets and a warm fire. All that had ended when he had seduced Elin the daughter of Murush. Upon finding Elin in the arms of Sengai Murush had attacked instantly and been both astonished and dismayed to find a knife protruding from the front of his throat. Sengai had simply dressed, gathered his weapons and left without a word. Perhaps it was at last time to try his fortune in Ayden, civilisation had always seemed an attractive prospect but until now the risk to a bandit in the city had been too great. The decision made he set his face toward the city, by far the lesser of the evils he could face at the moment and if nothing else Sengai knew himself to be a survivor.
Basically Sengai is a finesse fighter based on the idea of a Mongol or Cossack nomad. Affable but touchy and quick to anger with aspirations toward power and acceptance.
Can I go ahead and make him?
Sengai hugged his knees and watched as the rain dripped insistently from the brim of his leather hood onto the tip of his long hooked nose and pondered his options. He knew that after the death of Murush he would not be welcome amongst the bandits at the camp anymore, it wasn’t the first time either. Sengai killed his first man at the tender age of eleven and had since killed five more to protect himself in the harsh environment of the camp, an orphan he had had only his wits and the slender sword that no-one else had desired to rely on. A slender youth of seventeen, he lacked the heavy muscle of his camp mates and was singled out for the swarthiness of his skin and the slant to his eyes. Constantly bullied and outcast as a child he had grown up with swift reactions, tall and slender with muscles like knotted cords he had slowly garnered a sort of wary respect from his companions and had been given food instead of begging or stealing for it and allowed to sleep in a tent with blankets and a warm fire. All that had ended when he had seduced Elin the daughter of Murush. Upon finding Elin in the arms of Sengai Murush had attacked instantly and been both astonished and dismayed to find a knife protruding from the front of his throat. Sengai had simply dressed, gathered his weapons and left without a word. Perhaps it was at last time to try his fortune in Ayden, civilisation had always seemed an attractive prospect but until now the risk to a bandit in the city had been too great. The decision made he set his face toward the city, by far the lesser of the evils he could face at the moment and if nothing else Sengai knew himself to be a survivor.
Basically Sengai is a finesse fighter based on the idea of a Mongol or Cossack nomad. Affable but touchy and quick to anger with aspirations toward power and acceptance.
Can I go ahead and make him?
