[CON-DIE] Ioanis the Knight Hero, Veteran of Battle:

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Posted by ......... on June 7, 2000 at 19:14:26:

* Cloud * (PK) [BATTLE] Ioanis the Knight Hero, Veteran of Battle


Thanks for all the fun. Not my first hero by a long shot, but my first rager hero. Learned lots.

Battle: Love ya brothers. Minalcar, one mean sob, wish we could have interacted just a little more toward the end there. Gruntok, Arayln, Nicias, Altrael, Takashimi (sorry for kill ya at the omegus, got a great log of it though), Arlian, Mag, and all the others im missing, especially Baroman! My favorite crunch toy! Thror, always fun getting knocked out by ya, hope I lived up to your standards! BoltThrower, sorry to disapoint you. Love all ya guys, keep ragin.

Master: Finally getting things together, in the end their, you were for the most part, non-existant throughout my life. Nirgal, I loved fighin ya, it could always go either way. The rest of ya, good luck.

Arbiter: Better luck, I think things will be lookin up for ya guys.

Desc and Role:

Smallish facial features, seem somewhat out of place on a massive head.
A nose and eyes, dwarfed and somewhat unfitting, sit on his face.
Somewhat like those children of a lepper or insane orphanage, he stands
before you with an undeveloped look of inexistance. Somewhat unbecoming
a man of his size and stature. Immense shoulders and trunkesh arms, flail
about with seemingly careless grace and grammer. No hair, only the darkened
blue of the tempest sky, round his face and head. Blank and stupified, he stares
back into your eyes.

To parents, as all children are, Ioanis was born.
his parents, however, were not as all parents. They
were both the mages. They were both power hungry
and sought to further thier personal power by choosing
each other as mates. Normal enough, save they were
siblings. Brother and sister. They thought if they mixed
thier two bloods, powerful as they already were, they
would give birth to an offspring who would unite thier
powers, and be twice the magician they were.

They were wrong. Instead, giving birth to a feeble minded
fool. Worhty only for house chores, and field work. They
revelled in his tourture. They would charge thier mage
friends to come over and practice thier magic on him.
Chained in the cellar, beaten, demeaned, and lost....

While being beaten one day, in the fields, by the field
master, a thin string in his mind snapped, and he flew
into an uncontrolable rage. Using his clinched fist, he
Cranialed the field master, crushing his skull into a dozen
pieces. Freedom was his. He made his escape, and ended
up tired, hungry, and exusted in the hands of a farmer
and his family, who lived near his parents.

This family nursed Ioanis back into health, and Ioanis lived
with them for a time, helping them around the farm and slowly
learning the ways of civilized peoples. One night, around a
campfire, a traveller told tales of a great city, ruled by a fair
Sultan. Ioanis had never been to the city. It's tales made him
excited. Ioanis bid his farewells, and was off the following day.
With a note from the traveller, which he could not read, Ioanis
set to seek out the Warrior's Guildmaster in New Thalos.

Too unruley for civilized training or any kind, the Guildmaster
sent Ioanis to a wary colleague, Thrym. Not usually open to
new students, Thrym reluctantly trained Ioanis, until he was
able to return to the Guildmaster. Ioanis learned the ways of the
warrior, but always kept in his heart, the lessions of the mages
who bore him. In time, his fear tured to hate. In time his hate turned
to rage.

Ioanis new life must hold purpose. At times of lull, and respit he
would often dream of what it would be like to be normal... like
everyone else. His dwarfed features and oddly pronouced words
often were a source of embarrasment for him. He was not so dumb
as not to see he was stupid, and feebleminded, and it shamed him.
Ioanis seeks to change this, though he'd not tell a soul about him
inadequacies, for fear he'd look weak in his brothers eyes. Somewhere,
someway, he knows he'll find a way to become normal, and lift his curse
of inbred feebility.


Clemmy, ala fta!



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