I bounced around with a myriad of different ideas and a couple characters before I settled on the one I'm going to use for the foreseeable future. I decided I wanted to steep my character in as much of the established lore on the wiki as possible to make him seem as fleshed out and present as I could. This led to bending the established lore, as well as a whole lot of head canon in order to really make the character I wanted. Full disclosure; I'm much more of a vanilla player when it comes to the sexual nature of the game and my own views on these matters are conveyed through my character in what could be interpreted as heavy handed. I have an over active imagination and love to write my own head canon (in my head only) for fantasy and established works of fiction such as LOTR, Star Wars, Mass Effect, Dragon Age and the like. That being so, when I find a world like those in CoC and CoC2 where I feel I can heavily immerse myself and craft a character to pass through these crucibles, It quickly becomes a passion and fun pastime of mine. All that out of the way I hope you'll excuse the sometimes blatant times my character may seem to resemble something from any other work of fiction, especially his name seeing as I ripped it and its definition from LoL just because I thought it was cool.
Rhaast* was born to a nomadic tribe of Wyld Elves that travel the forests of Savarra in search of food, often following the seasons in order to match the times of the year in which the different animals are out and about. He is the son and only child of one of the tribes more prominent hunters and was raised to follow in his footsteps, learning to use a sword and bow from an early age in order to properly feed and defend the tribe. While he has a tenuous relationship with his father due to the heavy expectations placed on his shoulders, his relationship with his mother was one that didn't need words and could be recognized by any who observed it. A proper mommas boy, through and through. His life was fraught with responsibilities as soon as he was old enough to hunt and fight properly, he quickly grew accustomed to bearing that weight and meeting what was expected of him. He was always a curious boy, enamored by each and every new thing he would discover out on the hunt or trekking through the forests of Savarra. Soon the day of his marks manifestation grew near, his twelfth birthday was upon him before he knew it. He awoke that day with a mark that had not been seen before in his tribe, his eyes had become that of a cat. While curious about this new mark, the tribe soon realized it was perfect for him as they watched his now slit irises expand to the size of his pupil when he found something new and interesting and sat there observing it. His father saw it as an act of providence, the Wyld had given his son the ability to hunt day and night now so he must have been destined to be the next Head Hunter within the tribe. His father had always been a jealous and expectant man, when his own mark manifested in a way that would not add to his ability to hunt. Meanwhile his childhood friend now Head Hunter had manifested bunny ears, giving him a distinct advantage in finding prey throughout the forest. A fathers jealousy is a frightening thing to behold, as it is always taken out on his offspring. Such was the life Rhaast* lived every day after his own beneficial mark manifested, his father now resented him as well. This lead to even stricter training than before as the rift between their relationship grew larger and larger as Rhaast* grew to be only what his father expected of him and nothing else in his eyes. The tension between the two came to a head as Rhaast* rejected his fathers expectation on an early winter morning, screaming at him to "...Let me be what I want to be!" This was met with the first and only time his father had ever laid hands on him as his hand came crashing down onto his face leaving a distinct reddening mark. His slit eyes retracted as he looked up into his fathers and found no remorse there, he simply picked up his things sheathing his sword to his waist and slung his bow over his shoulder as he walked with his back to him into the forest. No words of apology ran after him, no words of admonishment, just the silent tension of a familial bond being stretched to its limit as he stepped onward.
The crestfallen Rhaast* ventured deeper into the woods then he had ever gone, his mind beating in tune to his heart "Escape, escape, escape." Almost as if the world or maybe the gods had heard the sound of his heart a storm flew in over head and he felt the long inhale the world took as his own uncertainties about his life swirled in his mind. "Head Hunter? Leader of the tribe? All he ever wanted of me were things he couldn't have for himself." His mind was barraged by thoughts of anger and sadness in equal strength as his legs took him further and further in. Until at last the world exhaled and it began to rain. Rhaast* looked up into the darkening sky as the rain pounded down on his face, he closed his eyes and hung his head down "I guess I should head back." Only when he opened them again did he realize just how far he must have gone, he had no bearing on the direction he came from. No hunters markings on any of the trees in sight as panic slithered its way around his heart until it gripped him in despair. He didn't know the way back, he didn't know where he was. His eyes searched the forest like his thoughts searched his mind as he tried to calm himself and focus. Shelter first, that's the most important. "When the rain finally lets up the tribe will send hunters to search, this is what he must bet on in order to get home." His pace quickened as he scoured the forest for a hollowed tree or abandoned shack, even a large extended root that he could lay under and get out of the rain. In the corner of his eye a patch of gray stood out against the colors of the forest, a pattern that looked like stone for afar. His brisk pace turned into a run, he bolted through the forest with the speed of a trained hunter as his surroundings blurred with the rain crashing down around him. His eyes tunneled on the gray as he grew closer, until he found himself standing at the foot a large tower. Its roof was far above the trees and the age of it was clear as he studied just how overgrown by the forest it had become. The tribe, having travelled south to wait out the winter, had always made it clear to the young that the old fortresses and ruins of what they called the "Gods Empire" were off limits. No good would come from looking in them and it was best to keep to traditional paths and hunting grounds. Rhaast*, the ever curious cat-eyed boy, had never had a chance like this before. He walked around the tower until finding an opening and no sooner after he did a loud crunch came from under foot. He lifted his leg to find a shattered skull under foot, and with his eyes glued to the ground he now say many remains of varying skeletons all around the entrance to the tower. His slit eyes grew wide in a mix of fear and curiosity, and with an anxious heart he stepped lightly into the tower. Drawing his short sword in preparation he made his way through the tower, he passed many more skeletons and signs of battle. The stone walls showing clear burn marks as he ran his finger along the soot and rubbed the ashy mixture between his fingers. He stepped and stepped until at last the spiraling stairs brought him to the top of the tower, and only then did his sword return to his sheathe in an exhale of relief. At the top he found two final skeletons, one had its torso and head pinned into the wall through it ribs with a large two handed great sword. While the other laid with its back against the wall at the other side of the small room. Rhaast* stood in the middle, piecing together what he believed must have happened as his curiosity overwhelmed him.
The small room looked like what must have been one of the skeletons living quarters, it had bookcases lined with rotted and decayed books. A bed larger than he had ever seen was the center piece, large enough to fit easily ten people as Rhaast* arched one inquisitive eyebrow searching from each of the skeletons and then back to the bed. Giving up on understanding such an unnecessarily large bed, he turned his attention to the books. Picking them out in order and quickly flipping through only to find pages falling out, some were rotted beyond repair and any that weren't were written in a language he had never seen before. A fruitless endeavor. While the sounds of the rain drummed on overhead, he approached the great sword and inspected it. Clearly of human make, but made of a material that was foreign to him. He ran a finger carefully along the blade, surprised to find that not only was it still sharp but easily much sharper than any sword he had ever held. He plopped down cross-legged as he pondered it all. "Whoever owned this tower, and consequently this room, must be the human skeleton with sword through it..." he paused for a while searching both skeletons and thinking back to his traversal up the tower. "A battle to kill all who lived here, with the chief of the targets being him, I suppose. A battle that killed all who or most of those that fought in it... otherwise the bodies of their comrades wouldn't have been left hear this long." He reasoned to himself. "But none of the bodies had any weapons on them or any remnants of armor. So this happened long enough ago that looters and otherwise picked all that was valuable at a glance clean." His eyes rested on the sword, "Except the one that they couldn't remove." He rubbed at his temples before finally removing his gear and bow placing them down next to the bed, before he himself let out an arduous sigh as he sunk down again placing his back to the footboard of the inexplicably large bed. He rested his head against it and closed his eyes as his ears listened to the crashing of the rain against the roof and walls of the tower. He opened them once more to look once to the skeleton pinned against the wall on his left, then once to the one resting the same as he was on his right. Rhaast* audibly sighed through the words he spoke "Not gonna end up like you two sad sacks." before closing his eyes to rest again. His few remaining thoughts returned to his home, his mothers worried face until his heart yearned to see her again, to embrace her and wash away the doubt and fear that has been building since this little escapade had begun. The sound of rain blurred as his senses dulled and his head slunk, falling into sleep and darkness.
He dreamed of his father first, of the times he spent with him riding his shoulders before he was old enough to draw a bow. He saw his mother, compassionate yet stern in teaching him about his mistakes. He felt again the pride he had as he walked from the forest into the Tribes clearing with his first successful hunt draped over his shoulders. He felt contentment wash over him for a long while until his dreams fell back into the darkness of sleep. What then arose from that darkness was a face twisted in rage and fear, then another that wore a calm but firm devotion that seemed to accept what was unfolding before him. There faces danced in his mind until the full picture came into view. He watched as a heavily armored human wearing metal of white and gold about him took the final steps of the tower, he watched as his appearance sent a darkly cloaked man into a rage within that small room. He watched, he felt, them die as one plunged a sword through the others heart... no through his entire being as the other cursed him audibly as dark miasma escaped from the cloaked man and seeped into the armored one. He watched with bated breath as the armored human drew a knife from belt and slunk against the wall. He smiled in his final moments, before driving the knife into his own neck and dying there. The miasma that was seeping into the armored man fractured with a deafening scream that shook Rhaast* awake. As his eyes opened, his body in a cold sweat and his eyes searching the very room he had just dreamed about in a panic. He heard same audible loud noise berate his ears as he hurriedly covered them with his hands, eyes wide in fear. Only to watch as the wall the sword was buried in gave way and crumbled down to the canopy below. The room was silent again except for the rain that had been beating against the wall was now free to pour into the tower itself. Rhaast* grasped his chest as his heartbeat quickened in an effort to settle it. Left to ponder what he had just seen, far from convinced it was just a dream he now needed to make sense of it all. He had heard some stories of the Godswar from his tribe, but nothing he had heard lived up to what he just witnessed. "That must have been a Paladin from the legends... fighting a wraith? No. Fighting a human corrupted by one perhaps?" His mind tried to make sense of it all with the few pieces he understood. "But then what was that blackish smoke that seeped into his body? And why did it scream? Why could it scream?" All his questions were washed away by one thing, he could stay in this tower no longer. Not wanting to risk that same experience happening again he quickly gathered his things and made for the stairs, stopping at the top for only a moment to cast a glance and the skeleton of the assumed paladin. He would never forget what he saw the paladin do, what he was capable of as a human. He took off down the stairs and out the door into the forest of bones once more. As he stopped to attempt to make out the direction he had run to the tower from, he spotted the sword once more. Now free from the collapsed rubble alongside the skeleton, he cautiously stepped over to it avoiding stepping on anymore remains of the bodies around the tower. Examining the sword once more, he reached down and gripped its handle.
No sooner than he had done so did the miasma he once saw screech loudly into his ears again. Try as me might he could not drop the sword, as he watched in horror as the black smoke emanated from the handle and swirled its way up his arm. He felt paralyzed, the screeching became a language he could not comprehend as the smoke reached further and further up his arm. As soon as the smoke reached his head, he lost consciousness and fell amongst the other remains, his hand still holding a vices grip on the handle of the sword against his will. Darkness took him, but he did not dream. His body ached and deformed, his bones grew and expanded. The blackness of the smoke seeped into his body, the blood vessels turning a coal black with strong juxtaposition against his pale elf skin. His hair darkened from its natural blonde to a sheenless black, and as the darkness seeped in to the veins surrounding his eyes, so too did the whites of his eyes change into darkness. As if staring up into a starless sky, with a cats eye moon piercing the shadow. Just as it seemed the shadow would overtake him and his mind, it stopped. His body relaxed from the tense flexing it had just endured, as it fell limp and he reflexively let out a sigh in relief.
His body laid there, forever changed as the rain beat down upon his unconscious self. But this time dreams did take him, or rather a nightmare perhaps. He found himself standing on a still water surface, no ripples or sound but only his reflection in the water. He looked down into the water to see his new form, but was surprised at himself that he did not feel shocked. Until it dawned on him, he really could not feel anything at all. His reflection spoke, thought he knows his mouth did not move. This time the voice of the miasma was his, but it was twisted and angry, a voice Rhaast recognized could not have been his own. "Wait... Rhaast?" he looked into the reflection as it peered into his soul, its mouth parted with coherent words this time "We are Rhaast now" There was no surprise, no feeling toward this, nothing at all. All that remained was acceptance, "Ah, we are Rhaast. So then I am now Rhaast. I was once myself and me alone, but now we are me." He searched back through his memories and found them in disarray as they were jumbled with the memories of another as well. A strong memory pushed its way to the surface, his mothers face, and something stirred in him again. One single tear shattered the stillness of the waters surface as the love he held for his mother hit him like the sun parting the clouds. "We are me... but I am still me." The reflection scowled but wore a face of defeat before disappearing into the waters darkness. "I cannot forget, I will not forget you mother."
The water he stood on now rippled, once, twice and then a third time. They were coming faster now, the sounds his body was hearing were reaching him. The ripples cascading across the waters surface, footsteps across the ground, birds chirping in the trees, voices of familiar people. The feeling of a his hand still firmly gripping the sword, his consciousness was returning slowly. Faintly aware of time passing he waited, was it days? Weeks? There was no way to tell, no light to pierce the darkness of the pool he stood alone on. Nothing. A rumble shook him, and then another as the water he had been standing on lost its shape and he sunk into its depths. His eyes opened met by people kneeling all around him, needing to adjust, it felt akin to being born again as his eyes washed away the blurriness and settled on one face out of them all. "Mother." as he reached his hand out and she took it just as quickly, pressing it to her cheek as he felt the the tears stream down. He felt his heart burn a sensation that felt alien but all too similar as she held your hand. This loving moment was then broken by the realization that she seemed to be the only one happy to see him. The faces that surrounded him were shocked, some in horror, others in disbelief. Until his slit eyes, resting in a socket of darkness, finally reached his fathers. His dreams of him within the tower, his parting moment of anger and sadness, all came rushing back and shattered. "That is not my son." His eyes were that of hatred and distrust, "Whatever did this to him changed him, this thing is not my son!" Something... died within Rhaast. As if it had been struggling to live and finally gave its parting breath and withered. But something was also born in its place. With the expectations of his father, along with his relationship with him now irreparable in his own mind, he felt a strangely liberating feeling well within him. A freedom he had not had since he first picked up his first bow so long ago, he could now have it again. His father left the tent followed by many others, until all that remained was his exhausted body, his mother holding his hand harder than he had been gripping the sword, and the tribes doctor. Many questions followed over many days, his mother hardly ever left his side. All these questions brought up many of his own that he held within his mind. He answered to the best of his ability, recounting the experience starting from his disagreement with his father. Both the doctor and his mother listened quietly until he finished before asking follow up questions, until Rhaast made them understand that he was no longer just himself. The doctor explained methods he could try but he had never heard nor seen anything like this, and reversing the process was beyond his abilities if it was possible at all. And with that he stood, wished him a safe recovery, and left. He laid there, pondering about what the times to come might be like as his mother stroked his now coal black hair. They talked for a long time, until Rhaast finally settled on a few things. "I cannot stay here. Not with him, not while I'm still like this. I need time, I need to learn who... we are." His words felt heavy in his throat as she listened, until he took her hand into his. His face strained as he fought back the tears, the sides of his mouth pulling down and a few rebellious tears escaped his eyes. "I have to leave. I need to know that happened to me, so I can learn how to reverse it." She nodded in understanding, but never spoke.
The fated day arrived as he was finally strong enough to move on his own again, adjusting to the changes in his body. He returned to his family tent one last time to pack his things, slinging his pack over his shoulders alongside his short sword. As he reached for his bow his fingers hesitated, then returned to his side. He looked at the bow for quite a while before deciding to leave it behind, he had to. At last he picked up the great sword that sealed his fate that day and wrapped in cloth, fastening it to his back. He was ready, double checked and knew he had everything he needed. Doubt and anxiety clawed at him, the real unknown was before him. He silenced such lingering thoughts, he resolved himself to his purpose. Hunt down any and all information about the Godswar, learn what he needed and find someone to undo what had been done. And If It couldn't be undone... cross that bridge if he gets there. The walk to the edge of the tribe was long, many stood and stared. Some had gazes of relief, very few that he had known had gazes of hope and clasped hands, nodding at him as he passed. He lastly reached his mother, who wore a solemn smile but her eyes were filled with sorrow. They shared a long hug, but neither spoke until he did. "When I'm done, I will come back." Prompting a tearful exhale of hopeful joy from his mother, they released the hug and exchanged a knowing glance. He made his bearing and took his first steps toward the road.
All Rhaast's with a "*" are placeholders as his name before the change is undecided.
Well if anyone bothered to read this far, Thank you! I have a general idea of how he gets to Hawkethorne from here and how long it takes him/ what he encounters but I felt this was long enough as backstories go. Especially for posting to this forum. I would love and appreciate any constructive criticism and comments on it so I can refine it to the best it can be. Just know any advice will be taken with a grain of salt.
Thank you!
