Post by Manis on Aug 19, 2013 15:41:11 GMT -8
Name: Manis Yamen
Age: 25
Class: Swordmaster (20/7)
Appearance: Worn; He has a deep sadness in his eyes due to how hard he takes each kill and what he's seen. His bright yellow hair has begun to pale and lose its luster. His clothes seem to have a permanent layer of dust and after a mission or battle he can look even more forlorn and smell terrible- due to the lack of personal hygiene for several days afterwards. As if to complete his bum look, he has a double ended scabbard with only one sword in it that hangs loosely from his shoulder.
Personality: Manis rarely talks and when he does it tends to be fairly deep (aside from basic conversation). He has many ideas and thoughts on many things, some more complete than others. He refuses to drink, no matter how depressed he gets, due to his father's insatiable thirst when he was a kid. He hates taking lives but is good at it. Each kill ways on him not because of the violence, but the act of taking life. He tends to brood a lot and keep to himself, lest he get dragged into another fight. In most fights he does not fight seriously, especially since finding his abhorrence to death. Manis came to know only one thing could end the suffering in the world: peace. It is something he seeks within himself and with others. His life had been hard and he spent it searching for peace, all while giving it to others. He doesn't want to die, but he doesn't want to live either.
Backstory: Manis grew up in a fairly large area but in nowhere in particular. His father, once the leader of a merchants guild, was the local drunk. Manis began working to help support his family at a young age, to cover for what little or no money his father brought home. His father taught him a little of haggling and various other merchanty principles as he grew up, the few times his father wasn't drunk. But it was the few years before he left home that shaped who Manis is today.
It was a year after Manis had become a man and was begining to search for work; work better than the many odd jobs he found around town. It was around this time the town drunk's head popped up from his table at the mention of dragons. He had always muttered about dragons, saying they caused all his trouble and the black-market-deal-gone-awry that had sullied his name all those years ago. He pulled the men aside and talked with them well into the night, rubbing his hands together with a scheming grin on his face. It was that night Manis' father started bringing home huge bags of gold.
The next couple of months left the Yamen family speechless, but grateful. It seemed as if everything was as it had been before Gunar Yamen had lost his reputation and everything he had. He began truly teaching his son the art of bartering and trade; he even began wearing his red sash and seal that marked him as a merchant. The months had gone good and their family was no longer in shambles, so Manis' mother put the thoughts and questions of where the money had come from to rest. Only Manis wondered, and it didn't take very long to find out; a few months after his father's sudden come back, he left on a business trip. All that came back was men carrying a sash, double ended scabbard, and lots of gold.
Manis' mother began weeping as the men began talking. Manis held back; he reconized the sash as his fathers. And the scabbard had been a prize piece of merchandise his father had decided not to sell, saying something rare such as it shouldn't be sold. The pins holding the mens cloaks bore crossed swords atop a roaring dragon. The men left their burden with his mother and left.
It didn't take long for word to get around that Gunar Yamen had died a dragonslayer, and the next few weeks went by fast. The money the men had left was enough for his mother to live comfortably the rest of her life, and so Manis bought a sword and left town. He couldn't take the shunning and curse people hurled at him for what his father had done. Even he couldn't decided whether he hated or respected his father. After what had happened, the las few months had made sense. His father had signed his death warrent but had found a way to take care of his family and even left his trade and knowledge to his son. But what he had done was terrible.
Manis spent the next few years wandering and traveling, his fathers sash on his belt and scabbard hanging from his shoulder. At one point he followed a bard across the lands, almost becoming his apprentice. Another time he helped some men map an area of the land (after learning what a map was of course). During his time with the explorers he met some huntsmen, and traveled with them for a while. It was there he had begun to learn the sword and how talented with it he was. Eventually he found himself in a mercenary guild. It was here he found his soul and bane.
As part of a merc group, Manis' name began to spread as he got his way out of every situation imaginable. He took every job he could and every variety, sending home when he could in spite of the fact his mother was fine. He was known as a great swordsman- the Soulbreaker, for those who fought him never took up arms again, if they lived. He first got his name in a skirmish with a local warlord, a man known for his ferocity and brutality. No matter how hard the man fought, he and his men could not break through the small group of mercenaries keeping him from his prize- a large farming village who had just had a traveling merchant come through.
After what seemed like forever, the warlord challenged Manis to a duel. He smiled as they squared off, as he was a master of the sword and he was facing 'a mere boy' in his eyes. Few forget the day the Soulbreaker was born. Manis fought as if in a dance, easily keeping up with the hardened warlord. He was one with his sword and nothing else mattered. It is said that true masters of the sword can pour their soul into their weapon, and when they meet and equal on the field it can be felt. By the end of it the warlord was on his knees. He couldn't believe what he had seen in the man's sword. Few remember what happened after that, but the warlord did live and a few have even claimed to see him. But never with a weapon. Some say what he saw in Manis burned his soul and changed the man, while other say he was just soul broken. All they know is similar things happened to other men who fought Manis afterwards. It wasn't long before he began to get several offers from various groups, including the dragonslayers. He turned them all down. He had found his soul, but his bane was yet to come. For with fame comes infamy.
A local bandit and fellow guild began to grow jealous of Manis' little group of mercenaries, especially him. And so one night on their way back from a job-his best friend joking about the finest ale waiting on them at the tavern- they were attacked by this guild and the bandits. Manis watched as one by one his friends were cut down. The battle only lasted 20 minutes, but in those twenty minutes each man and woman took down at least ten men. But Manis wouldn't and couldn't be taken down.
"This was all you, Soulbreaker!" the other guild leader called out as he ran into the night with what little men he had left. The bandit's weren't seen again and both guilds disbanded. Since then Manis has taken the blame for himself and only taken jobs when he needed money to survive. And after every job he sat at the tavern, some of their finest ale sitting in an untouched mug on the table before him. None saw his soul after that. He was Manis, Soulbroken.
Manis is Tuatara's (WotW) ancestor and who his brother was named after.
Age: 25
Class: Swordmaster (20/7)
Appearance: Worn; He has a deep sadness in his eyes due to how hard he takes each kill and what he's seen. His bright yellow hair has begun to pale and lose its luster. His clothes seem to have a permanent layer of dust and after a mission or battle he can look even more forlorn and smell terrible- due to the lack of personal hygiene for several days afterwards. As if to complete his bum look, he has a double ended scabbard with only one sword in it that hangs loosely from his shoulder.
Personality: Manis rarely talks and when he does it tends to be fairly deep (aside from basic conversation). He has many ideas and thoughts on many things, some more complete than others. He refuses to drink, no matter how depressed he gets, due to his father's insatiable thirst when he was a kid. He hates taking lives but is good at it. Each kill ways on him not because of the violence, but the act of taking life. He tends to brood a lot and keep to himself, lest he get dragged into another fight. In most fights he does not fight seriously, especially since finding his abhorrence to death. Manis came to know only one thing could end the suffering in the world: peace. It is something he seeks within himself and with others. His life had been hard and he spent it searching for peace, all while giving it to others. He doesn't want to die, but he doesn't want to live either.
Backstory: Manis grew up in a fairly large area but in nowhere in particular. His father, once the leader of a merchants guild, was the local drunk. Manis began working to help support his family at a young age, to cover for what little or no money his father brought home. His father taught him a little of haggling and various other merchanty principles as he grew up, the few times his father wasn't drunk. But it was the few years before he left home that shaped who Manis is today.
It was a year after Manis had become a man and was begining to search for work; work better than the many odd jobs he found around town. It was around this time the town drunk's head popped up from his table at the mention of dragons. He had always muttered about dragons, saying they caused all his trouble and the black-market-deal-gone-awry that had sullied his name all those years ago. He pulled the men aside and talked with them well into the night, rubbing his hands together with a scheming grin on his face. It was that night Manis' father started bringing home huge bags of gold.
The next couple of months left the Yamen family speechless, but grateful. It seemed as if everything was as it had been before Gunar Yamen had lost his reputation and everything he had. He began truly teaching his son the art of bartering and trade; he even began wearing his red sash and seal that marked him as a merchant. The months had gone good and their family was no longer in shambles, so Manis' mother put the thoughts and questions of where the money had come from to rest. Only Manis wondered, and it didn't take very long to find out; a few months after his father's sudden come back, he left on a business trip. All that came back was men carrying a sash, double ended scabbard, and lots of gold.
Manis' mother began weeping as the men began talking. Manis held back; he reconized the sash as his fathers. And the scabbard had been a prize piece of merchandise his father had decided not to sell, saying something rare such as it shouldn't be sold. The pins holding the mens cloaks bore crossed swords atop a roaring dragon. The men left their burden with his mother and left.
It didn't take long for word to get around that Gunar Yamen had died a dragonslayer, and the next few weeks went by fast. The money the men had left was enough for his mother to live comfortably the rest of her life, and so Manis bought a sword and left town. He couldn't take the shunning and curse people hurled at him for what his father had done. Even he couldn't decided whether he hated or respected his father. After what had happened, the las few months had made sense. His father had signed his death warrent but had found a way to take care of his family and even left his trade and knowledge to his son. But what he had done was terrible.
Manis spent the next few years wandering and traveling, his fathers sash on his belt and scabbard hanging from his shoulder. At one point he followed a bard across the lands, almost becoming his apprentice. Another time he helped some men map an area of the land (after learning what a map was of course). During his time with the explorers he met some huntsmen, and traveled with them for a while. It was there he had begun to learn the sword and how talented with it he was. Eventually he found himself in a mercenary guild. It was here he found his soul and bane.
As part of a merc group, Manis' name began to spread as he got his way out of every situation imaginable. He took every job he could and every variety, sending home when he could in spite of the fact his mother was fine. He was known as a great swordsman- the Soulbreaker, for those who fought him never took up arms again, if they lived. He first got his name in a skirmish with a local warlord, a man known for his ferocity and brutality. No matter how hard the man fought, he and his men could not break through the small group of mercenaries keeping him from his prize- a large farming village who had just had a traveling merchant come through.
After what seemed like forever, the warlord challenged Manis to a duel. He smiled as they squared off, as he was a master of the sword and he was facing 'a mere boy' in his eyes. Few forget the day the Soulbreaker was born. Manis fought as if in a dance, easily keeping up with the hardened warlord. He was one with his sword and nothing else mattered. It is said that true masters of the sword can pour their soul into their weapon, and when they meet and equal on the field it can be felt. By the end of it the warlord was on his knees. He couldn't believe what he had seen in the man's sword. Few remember what happened after that, but the warlord did live and a few have even claimed to see him. But never with a weapon. Some say what he saw in Manis burned his soul and changed the man, while other say he was just soul broken. All they know is similar things happened to other men who fought Manis afterwards. It wasn't long before he began to get several offers from various groups, including the dragonslayers. He turned them all down. He had found his soul, but his bane was yet to come. For with fame comes infamy.
A local bandit and fellow guild began to grow jealous of Manis' little group of mercenaries, especially him. And so one night on their way back from a job-his best friend joking about the finest ale waiting on them at the tavern- they were attacked by this guild and the bandits. Manis watched as one by one his friends were cut down. The battle only lasted 20 minutes, but in those twenty minutes each man and woman took down at least ten men. But Manis wouldn't and couldn't be taken down.
"This was all you, Soulbreaker!" the other guild leader called out as he ran into the night with what little men he had left. The bandit's weren't seen again and both guilds disbanded. Since then Manis has taken the blame for himself and only taken jobs when he needed money to survive. And after every job he sat at the tavern, some of their finest ale sitting in an untouched mug on the table before him. None saw his soul after that. He was Manis, Soulbroken.
Manis is Tuatara's (WotW) ancestor and who his brother was named after.
