Class: Dedicated Hero 3 / Shaman 1
SHEET WORK IN PROGRESS
Personality:Shy, rather introspective, and (seemingly) distant from most. His mind constantly drifts on what is expected of him and what his future is to be, rather than really enjoying much of the moment Overall he has a tendency to prefer training and contemplation than most forms of conversation, at least outside of what they are studying. He definitely will speak up if something seems to be going wrong, but he tries to be distantly friendly with everyone and doesn't seem to be too much concerned with taking the lead himself. Of course, he *is* willing to speak up when things are "wrong", and doesn't hesitate to do what needs to be done if need be. Words had a particular power, and to waste them, like wasting anything else, spoke of dishonoring one's family and shaming the memory of one's father.
Despite this, his mood rapidly changes when confronted with something new or learning. In that case all pretense of disinterest drops, and he eagerly pursues the object of his recent attention. He is relentless in his drive for yet more knowledge, and quite willing to go to extremes to pursue his quarry.
Life is capricious, and oftentimes unfortunate. These are not new and amazing mysteries to one who is well-versed in the spirit and healing arts; the line between death and life is oft nebulous and ill-defined. For those who lived in the shade of Uluru, it was surmised long ago that to be near such a great monument would bring great and terrible things. One day.
Warrain has lived all his life in wilds past the Uluru rock. More perceptive than most, he has taken early training in the arts of a shaman, ever eager to learn what mysteries the spirits would hold for one willing to listen to their whispers. Disregarding the more sage advice of his elders, he plunged on seeking ever-nuanced levels of power and insight that more cautious souls would fear to peer down. For such laughable concerns, he would only stare back with those steeled eyes and ask such "Honored grandfather, to survive all things must be known and considered, yes? Ignorance is weakness. And the weak die."
It was this same motive of knowledge despite all costs that had led Warrain to explore, to consider beyond the confines of his smaller band of family, that which he had known. Long nights spent gazing up at the stars and into his soul has left him with an equanimity and balanced perspective most find hard to reach. Friends who had been close had drifted apart; oh, he was still the caring and kind soul as always, but his eyes held more melancholy and terrible things. Primordial, twisting dreams and whispered urgings of the spirits late into the nights left their toll on him, and more than one night he had woken up screaming.
Blessed (or cursed, some viewed the shaman apprentices as the "unfortunate ones" with an affinity for the work, he took his first dreamwalk, finding his soul laid bare before the assembled Spirits of the World and torn asunder, rebuilt into an image more desirable and receptive to their call. His inquisitive mind a bright beacon, it was reciprocated by an endless desire for yet *more* information, yet *more* to be seen. The skies and the land had changed, in the past few months. Ranging weeks further afield in learning of new plants and medicines, he had been unable to be at ease with his family when change came upon their village.
Nothing much to speak of is left, in those times. Where once his firepit, hunched over cooking meals with family and kin, there was now ashes and the tribe had moved on. Rainstorms had wiped out passage of his family and kin, and a few scattered bodies, heavy with the smell of death as the lingering ghosts of the spirits departed whispered to him. Time had not allowed for them to properly be respected, and the next two days had seen him kneeling in the muck, performing the last rites he had been taught, ways all too familiar to one who lived in the lands of the "starving times".
"Go. Death is but a change in worlds. More lies beyond, at least, for you."
What remained of the band had moved on, having left behind only hardened memories for Warrain. Eager to plumb the source of these woes and his remnants of a life, he gathered up what supplies he could and started for Uluru. Garbed in gear for a war with the spirits themselves, he would be a warrior to make his memory of his kin proud. There, there at Uluru he would face down the Spirits of the World, and he would asks his questions.
And he would not falter. Not this time.