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| − | <div style="padding: 7px 4px;font-size:13px; color:#444146;font-family:Georgia;">Born ''Ganzeyn Guldlorasyn'' to a young single mother, the boy who'd one day become known as Sulking Boar went from doughy infant to pudgy toddler, spending nearly every waking hour of his little life pampered, coddled, and doted upon, before Guldlora passed away suddenly, quietly—and as the chirurgeons ruled it—from natural causes in her sleep. Her Will read thus: every coin she'd earned working at the lapidary would be relinquished to Thal's tithe. In exchange, the Ossuary was to make absolutely certain her son was cared for. Regarding this, Guldlora was exhaustively specific, going so far as to include an exact regimen. | + | <div style="padding: 7px 4px;font-size:13px; color:#444146;font-family:Georgia;">To be rewritten.</div> |
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| − | The congregation at Arrzaneth could not refuse this request. It was their duty to honor the final wishes of well-paying devotees, no matter how trifling or ridiculous. However, they did not have to debate exactly how they planned to fulfill Guldlora's for long. To the surprise of most of their order, an infamously crabby executor, Onzonza Onza, rose to the task. When Guldlora lived, she'd crafted Onzonza a scepter etched with the most detailed relief of a serpent biting a man in half she'd ever seen. For that, she made the necessary preparations for Ganzeyn to be moved into the dormitory next to hers, and when her schedule allowed it she would see to it that the boy was taught what he needed. In time, he'd become one of their own—''if'' he so chose.
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| − | Such was how the reclusive denizens of Arrzaneth Ossuary found themselves plagued by a large child waddling through their halls, wailing at obscene hours. And how Ganzeyn eventually came to feel at home in its heavy shadows, surrounded by scripture and frankincense-scented death.
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| − | He was a withdrawn youth, quiet and not terribly confident, but still eager. He'd happily do whatever he was told. Likewise, his seniors were happy to entrust him with their errands if it stopped the big lout from looming around them. Any time a heavy casket needed to be toted to and fro, he was usually called upon. Ganzeyn learned everything there was to know about preparing the dead for burial when he was ultimately drafted as a mortician's assistant. Everything, with the exception of the cleansing fires and preserving ice his master wielded. Letting a five year-old replace a cadaver's humors with various aromatic chemicals was no trouble, but introducing him to thaumaturgy? That would be taking things a step too far.</div>
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| | <h3><span class="mw-headline" id="General"><div style="font-family:Georgia;padding:10px 15px; background: #000000;font-size:16px;color:#ffffff; text-shadow: 1px 1px 3px black;letter- | | <h3><span class="mw-headline" id="General"><div style="font-family:Georgia;padding:10px 15px; background: #000000;font-size:16px;color:#ffffff; text-shadow: 1px 1px 3px black;letter- |
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| | <div style="padding: 7px 4px;font-size:13px; color:#444146;font-family:Georgia;"></div> | | <div style="padding: 7px 4px;font-size:13px; color:#444146;font-family:Georgia;"></div> |
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| − | <div style="padding: 7px 4px;font-size:13px; color:#444146;font-family:Georgia;">Once Ganzeyn was deemed old enough to take the Order's vows, and therefore old enough to finally become privy to their thaumaturgical secrets, his caretakers made a few discoveries regarding their least favorite tenant. One, his aether pool was sizeable, enough to draw the envy of the seasoned mages tutoring him. Or... at least attempting said feat, as—two—he seemingly lacked any modicum of control when it came to manipulating it. The times he actually managed to call it forth, it tended not to stop, stuck like a rusted tap gushing bloated, volatile amoebas of aether. | + | <div style="padding: 7px 4px;font-size:13px; color:#444146;font-family:Georgia;">To be rewritten.</div> |
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| − | The combination spelled frequent disaster. Splintered training staves nearly put out eyes, lectures were canceled in favor of containing small cataclysms, and sleep-incantations gone rogue dropped bystanders into lengthy comas. He wasn't lacking in IQ, despite the sort of mocking his peers began to favor. Yet there may as well have been a solid wall between Ganzeyn and the fundamentals of casting. When redundant lessons gleaned no results, Ganzeyn was barred from live training sessions and sent back to the books. Quite literally, his days consisted of rereading the same basic texts in a dusty rear wing of the sanctum, though he understood the need. He didn't want to hurt anyone.
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| − | In a month, he could recite ''Essences & Permutations'' from front to back. His reward? Another tome and more frustration. The cycle felt unending, and yet he never entertained thoughts of rebelling against his scholastic condemnation. The closest he came was following a group of fellow adherents out to Hammerlea at night, after overhearing them whisper about holding duels in secret. It contented him to watch the spectacle, even if no one wanted him there. No one had to be bothered, so long as he kept his distance. This repeated every Levinsday over the course of a hot summer until a pack of jackals was drawn to the gathering, moving with predatory purpose, not as deterred by the fireworks as they should have been.
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| − | His peers never noticed them approach, to his great dismay. Ganzeyn shouted to direct their attention. More surprised to hear his voice, they all turned to look at him instead of the toothy animals stumbling through the brush toward them. With no time to right the confusion, he acted quickly. Even if he failed miserably, there was nothing else in that direction for him to hit. Or so he thought, before a pair of Sultansworn resolved from the darkness, tailing after the creatures. By then, it was too late. The flames blossomed like an earthly sun, vaporizing the jackals into a fine ash. Thirty fulms further away, a humanoid shape lay partially disintegrated, although it was still moving somehow. Screaming. It looked as awful as the realization coursing through Ganzeyn felt. </div>
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| | <h3><span class="mw-headline" id="General"><div style="font-family:Georgia;padding:10px 15px; background: #000000;font-size:16px;color:#ffffff; text-shadow: 1px 1px 3px black;letter- | | <h3><span class="mw-headline" id="General"><div style="font-family:Georgia;padding:10px 15px; background: #000000;font-size:16px;color:#ffffff; text-shadow: 1px 1px 3px black;letter- |
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| | <div style="padding: 7px 4px;font-size:13px; color:#444146;font-family:Georgia;"></div> | | <div style="padding: 7px 4px;font-size:13px; color:#444146;font-family:Georgia;"></div> |
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| − | <div style="padding: 7px 4px;font-size:13px; color:#444146;font-family:Georgia;">By the next afternoon, the repercussions had taken his formerly quiet world by storm. Accusatory stares met him throughout the Ossuary. At the altar. On the steps. Down the avenue. Even within the deepest hall of the burial chamber where he eventually tried to escape from them. The folk that dotted his daily routine had never been overwhelmingly friendly before. The difference now was that he couldn't tell himself it wasn't his doing. | + | <div style="padding: 7px 4px;font-size:13px; color:#444146;font-family:Georgia;">(WIP) |
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| − | As it turned out, the burned knight's father was well-off. Rich. Influential-rich. ''The law is what I decide it is''—rich. And at the behest of his half-dead son, he funneled capital into the pockets of everyone who mattered—and even a few who didn't—to corroborate his claims: that his body had been the only thing in the way of the attempted murder of several dozen Ul'dahn youths. A lie, of course, but permanent disfigurement had left the man a mite bitter. Not only was he going to ruin Ganzeyn's life, but he was going to do it in a way that brought him immense joy.
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| | | '''Age''' - 26 | | | '''Age''' - 26 |
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| − | | '''Name Day''' - TEXT | + | | '''Name Day''' - 30th Sun of the 4th Umbral Moon (August 29th) |
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| | | '''Deity''' - Nald'thal | | | '''Deity''' - Nald'thal |
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| | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Hair color:</b> Black | | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Hair color:</b> Black |
| | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Eye color:</b> Amber | | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Eye color:</b> Amber |
| − | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Complexion:</b> Copper | + | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Complexion:</b> Earthy with a slight reddish undertone |
| − | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Body Type:</b> Overweight | + | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Body Type:</b> Rotund |
| − | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Piercings:</b> Ears x7, Tongue, Nipples, Navel | + | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Piercings:</b> Ears x6, Nipples, Navel |
| | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Tattoos:</b> Near-total coverage on upper back, chest, shoulders, and biceps. | | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Tattoos:</b> Near-total coverage on upper back, chest, shoulders, and biceps. |
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| − | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Alignment:</b> Chaotic Neutral | + | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Alignment:</b> Chaotic Neutral/Good |
| | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Affiliations:</b> Arrzaneth Ossuary, Brotherhood of Ash<br> | | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Affiliations:</b> Arrzaneth Ossuary, Brotherhood of Ash<br> |
| − | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Companion(s):</b> <br><br> - Iron Maiden, “Ira” for short. A black cat missing a back limb. Wears a prosthetic commissioned from Eshtaime’s Aesthetics. | + | : <font style="color:#000000;" size="3">■</font> <b>Companion(s):</b> <br><br> - Iron Maiden, “Ira” for short. A black cat missing limbs. Wears prosthetics commissioned from Eshtaime’s Aesthetics. |
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