Alors qu'ils volaient, Rykiar scruta toute forme de civilisation où ils pouvaient se reposer et vendre leur morceau de wurm mort. Il a vu quelque chose qui était peut-être une ville à quelques kilomètres au sud, donc il a dirigé son compagnon bovin dans cette direction. Il n'a pas fallu longtemps pour qu'ils atterrissent et marchent, en raison de la grande quantité d'énergie qu'il a fallu pour voler. Ils marchaient en direction de la ville, toujours à environ 2 miles. Aucun d'eux n'a dit un mot en chemin, ils étaient trop fatigués pour parler. Finalement, ils sont venus sur la ville et ont cherché un boucher. Ils ont été dirigés vers l'un par un étranger, et sont entrés dans le magasin. -- Bonsoir monsieur. Rykiar a dit au boucher qu'ils entraient. Il a choisi de laisser le troc des prix à Atlas, car elle savait mieux s'y prendre. Après 10 minutes de marche arrière, ils se sont mis d'accord sur un prix et la souris et la vache étaient à la recherche d'un endroit où dormir. "Combien avons-nous eu?" Rykiar a demandé. Atlas a répondu : « Pas assez près. Nous n'avons vraiment que suffisamment pour nous réapprovisionner en nourriture. » "J'ai une idée." Et avec ça, ils sont entrés dans une taverne. "Mon bon monsieur, nous avons besoin d'une chambre pour la nuit, et d'un repas chaud." Rykiar a parlé à l'aubergiste. Comme il parlait des prix, il était aslo en utilisant à peu près la dernière de son énergie pour imaginer une petite note se formant dans sa main. C'était un peu de magie délicate car il ne pouvait rien rendre tangible. Il a donc dû se concentrer et réfléchir exactement à l'endroit où il voulait que le morceau de papier soit ainsi il semblait être dans sa main et rester là alors qu'il le déplaçait pour montrer l'aubergiste. "Je crois que cela couvrira le coût." Et il montra la note qui disait comment ils étaient en quête d'un roi et qu'on leur accordait tous les accommodements. Ayant vu une note de ce genre avant qu'il ne vive à Neth, il savait comment elle devait paraître convaincante. L'aubergiste était un lecteur très lent et prenait son temps. Rykiar commençait à transpirer à cause de l'effort qu'il avait fait. Il a pris tout en lui pour ne pas s'évanouir à l'époque et là. Enfin, tout comme son sort était sur le point de céder, l'aubergiste grogne d'accord et remet à Rykiar une clé sans autre mot. Rykiar a baissé la main et a laissé tomber le sort avant de retourner à Atlas. "Allons à l'étage avant que je m'évanouisse. Il devrait y avoir de la nourriture bientôt. »
Name:
Rykiar Drake
Race:
Just your average church mouse. So Neth.
Gender:
Male
Age:
25
Personality:
Very mild mannered. Always calm and collected, not much can upset him. He is very kind and caring to those who are kind back to him. Overall he is a very gentle soul.
However, being as he belongs to the school of illusionment, it only makes sense that his personality is also a front. The personality described is that which he presents to the world around him. On the inside, Rykiar usually tends to be freaking out at just about everything that happens. He acts calm and stone-faced about most things because on the inside he’s trying his best not to run away and hide. He learned long ago that if he pretends that everything is ok, then it usually will be. As time progressed he has been finding it harder and harder to keep his calm and has been becoming more and more daring, and has found himself filled with a longing for adventure.
Appearance:
Very plain features, he has brown fur and beady black eyes. He does make sure to keep his claws and teeth very clean, because it makes him feel happier to be clean. He is usually found wearing a beige outfit (blouse, pantaloons. You get the gist) and a leather cape, as well as an emerald green belt/sash. Shaped like a seat belt, it’s a long piece of fabric that he first wraps around his wait and then diagonally over his shoulder, connecting it in the back. His tail is as long as his body and is kept as clean as the rest of him. He is fairly short and a little plump.
Height:
4 feet, 10 inches.
Weight:
140 lbs.
Magic:
Illusionism
Class:
Gentry (Wellborn and well-bred people. In England, the class below the nobility. An upper or ruling class; aristocracy. Those who are not members of the nobility but are entitled to a coat of arms, especially those owning large tracts of land. )
Weapons/Items:
A Falchion named Bhamara that was passed down to him by his Father before he died.
A small knife longer than his palm, but not by much, that he bought from a wandering enchanter he met one day while traveling back to his home from the nearby city. It is a single edged blade that is so incredibly sharp it can cut through anything with the slightest of ease.
Strengths:
Invisibility: He is rather adept at not necessarily making himself invisible, but enforcing the idea into the mind of others that he isn’t there. Essentially he uses heavy magical persuasion.
Mirage: He simply has to think of an object (living or non) and it slowly starts appearing wherever he imagines it. It is not however, a tangible thing. It is simply a hologram of sorts, just without all the technology. He can not make it speak or make noise, but he can control it’s actions as it is around. He has to be focusing on maintaining it and can’t really do much else while he is doing this.
Weaknesses:
He is fairly slow in combat, being that he hasn’t spent much time with a sword and has focused more on his magic.
He is fairly near sighted, and if it were modern times he would absolutely be required to wear glasses while driving.
Techniques:
He is slower, so he will try and get up close to them all the while using his magic to either distract his opponent with something, or make them think he is in a different spot than he by going invisible and casting an image of himself somewhere else. He can’t do this for very long because it requires a lot of energy and concentration to manage both spells at the same time.
Other:
His parents have both died of illness, and he has not married nor does he have any plans to currently, simply because he’d rather not be tied down right now.