Crow Torrance
 Marke "Crow" Torrance
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| 250px '"You know, we of this mortal coil are lucky. We find paradise. Truly, immortality is the cruelest of all fates."' | |
| Gender | Male |
| Race | Hyur |
| Clan | Midlander |
| Citizenship | Ul'dah |
| Age | 19 |
| Height | 6ft. |
| Weight | 160 lbs. |
| Sexuality | Heterosexual |
| Deities worshipped | Thaliak and Nald'thal |
Contents
History
Crow was born under the ninth moon, on the seventh sun. He however, was originally given the name of Marke. The Torrance family to which he was born lived in Limsa and was a family of vulgar, ill tempered brutes, no doubt about it. However, it seems as though little Marke was to be a different creature from his ancestors.
Yes, Azeyma certainly blessed the child with a beautiful mind, and an air of refinement that could not have come from the rude, brawlish, unsophisticated nature of his parents, siblings, and grandparents.
When he was 5, a kindly old Elezaan man by the name of Crow came across him, throwing mud and various liquids into a pot, mixing it up. Why, a regular apocethary! Crow hailed from Gridania, and considered himself--and was considered by others, too--one with the elements, in tune to the voices of the elementals.
The kind, elderly man saw a certain kind of intelligence in the boy. Present, but unrefined and malnourished. He crouched in front of young Marke, and spoke.
"Hello there, boy," he began, his eyes gleaming and brimming with joy over an opportunity to teach this young Limsan boy something he would not likely learn on his own, "I'm Crow. Crow Reha'el. What is your name?"
Marke's head snapped up, inquistive blue eyes drinking in every detail about this man. After a long moment of study, he replied, "Marke. 'Chu want? Needin' help?" His speech was rough, but he had seen the Torrance family on numerous occasions, and none had ever asked anyone if they needed help so out of the blue, unless they had ulterior motives.
"No, no. Just wanted to see you and what you were up to." was the reply.
That was all that was needed. Appreciation of his odd hobby. That brief exchance gave way to a friendship that the heavy axe of a marauder could not scratch, and the flames of the mightiest conjurer could not sear.
Crow taught the boy. He taught him of the crafts--primarily the alchemy Marke had become so interested in--and of the power that lies within the mastery of Aethyr. It wasn't power, though, that attracted him. Yes, he enjoyed going out and hunting small creatures with darts of Aetherial energy, and roasting them for a snack, but this wasn't his main focus. He could heal. He could help. He could learn things he had never dreamt attainable for him.
What brought an end to Marke's lessons was nothing short of tragic, and led to who exists today. Maren Torrance, mother of Marke, was a vicious and cruel woman who, unlike the others in the family, was quite intelligent--but equally if not more rude, vulgar, and nasty--and did not love her children, not in the least. They were tools, and tools could not be allowed to grow to question her authority.
In the midst of a calm exchange on ideas about other possible uses of Aether between Marke and Crow, in came Maren. There isn't much to be said, really. Just the chop, chop, chop of an axe held in her hands, and Crow as no more.
Marke fled the scene, but took with him the staff belonging to Crow. With the staff, he took the name. His last name was unchanged, he let it serve as a reminder of the kind of person he was determined not to become. His first, now said in loving memory, and determination to be as great as that man was in his mind. At age seventeen, he took his first steps outside of Limsa, arriving and taking residence in Ul'dah.
After meeting Emilie Hana--his current partner, in more ways than one--he co-founed Renascut, a performing troupe. Here he uses his wits and magic capabilities to use offensive magic in an unique way, really. Turning the powerful spells of a conjurer into visually stunning street performances.
Personality
Brimming with sarcasm, but a real sweetheart. As much as he dedicates himself to higher learning, he still has a nasty habit of his emotions taking the wheel, which leads him to rash, abrasive, irrational acts contrary to his normally calm and composed demeanor. He has a nigh crippling aversion to axes, and will cower at the site of an attacking marauder, having been traumatized by the hack-and-slash spectacle of his mother.
Well versed in the arcane, but new to the actual practice, Crow is ever eager to explain to others the what, why, and how of every little relic he lays eyes on. One could also call him a ruin maniac, becoming obessive over studying the layout of ancient sites, even blowing up at those who dare call it 'rubble'.
Sarcasm and emotionan nature aside, Crow loves to lend a helping hand--figuratively speaking. He can hardly life a longsword, let alone carry a person. All that he does, even his sometimes dangerous thirst for knowledge, is for the greater good of Eorzea. As emotionally wrecking as it is, he'd leave behind the most priceless artifact in existance to save a life. He'd just spend the next few weeks moping over his loss.
Abilities
A conjurer and Thaumaturge in-training, who falls back on hand-to-hand when his magic doesn't suit the situation (or is unavailable). If you want information gathered, he's your man (boy?). If you want a rare item appraised, he's your man (again, boy?). If you need an alchemist, he's...no, no don't trust him he's just starting out in the big-boy world. He also uses his conjury to do street performances, which he uses in the Renascut.
Alignment
Crow is neutral good with chaotic leanings. Although he appears to be caustic in nature, he never turns down a cry for help. He also has little to no loyalty to any nation, and although he has no problem abiding by laws under most circumstances, he has no problem breaking them for a good cause--and openly defying them if they go against his morals.
