Illick Nai

Name: Illick Nai

Age: 18

Race: Dark Elf

Sex: Male

Hair: Midnight black and shiny--slicked back into short spikes

Eyes: Blood-red with dark red pupils

Weight: 180 lbs

Height: 5 feet 11 inches


Weapons: His main weapon is a three-foot long katana made from meteorite-steel. Its blade is of a pale yellow gold and its hilt and handle made of deep amber wood and leather. It is stored in a case on his belt.

He also wields a longbow made of an ancient but terribly strong wood. It was carved from the heart of a long faded race of trees. With it he uses a variety of arrows each designed for a different purpose. He calls it “Harbinger”. It is stored in a leather case on his back which leans to the right while his sheath of arrows leans to the left.

Strapped to his belt is a short, curved bladed knife he uses to craft arrows and for fighting in close combat.

Armor: Full suit of Dark Elf Samurai armour. It is flexible but strong and appears something like human samurai armour. It is made of overlapping plate-segments of black metal lined with gold along the edges, fixed onto rich mahogany leather.

His helmet is a partial bucket style, with a large, ‘T’-shaped slit for his face to show through and short gold mantis horns starting above his brow. The sides are open to allow his ears to be free and the back of his neck is covered by twin flaps.

His shoulders are covered in overlapping plates that flow smoothly onto his gauntlets while his chestplate flows down over his thighs in two armoured skirts.

His boots are made especially for his two-toed configuration with a spit down the centre, allowing flexibility. The armour is close fitting and slightly heavier than its primarily leather-made counterpart. As it is Elven-made, it allows for very free movement.

He wears his armour for long periods of time, training his body to move faster and for better manipulation while equipped. He can even swim while wearing it. He considers his armour with as much respect as his own skin and without it he wears a simple linen shirt and trousers.


Strengths: Illick is a learned warrior who strives to balance speed, strength and mindfulness in battle. His combat style is flexible and as a result fares well in both one-on-one fights as well as all out melees.

He is also a powerful thinker, using his mind to outsmart and trick opponents.

He is also agile and quick and often jumps to escape, surmount boundaries and to best opponents. His agility complements his armour well, as he is protected from any blow he cannot avoid.


Weakness: Being an Elf above all things, his muscles are not as strong as he would like them to be and he often finds himself dwarfed by taller, stronger opponents.

His armour, through strong and flexible plate-segments, offers excellent protection to most of his body. Like true samurai armour however, the areas inside his upper arms and his elbows are covered only by leather and are so vulnerable.


Skills/Magic: Illick is a prodigy in freestyle katana fighting. The technique he employs is of his own creation—fast, decisive blows aimed at dismemberment or a quick death.

He is also a proficient archer, having trained in the twisting pathways of his homeland’s forests; this makes him an excellent hunter too.

He is able to run and swim with relative ease but is excellent at jumping (due to the nature of his feet).

Illick, like most of his Dark Elf brethren, harbours a fierce intelligence--he is a thinker capable of manipulating both the Destructive Jutsus:

Fire - Creates a flow of flame from the palms of his hands which can be thrown as a fireball or sprayed like a flamethrower.

Frost - Creates either a spiked ball of ice that damages and freezes on impact or a blast of cold that can freeze an area.

Shock - Creates a concentrated orb of lightning that explodes on impact or a precise bolt.

Poison - Creates either a roiling ball of acid that splatters on impact or a gushing spray that seeps and eats through most anything.

And the Mystic Jutsus:

Remote Detection - Casts the hidden eye upon himself, allowing him to sense approaching enemies or to find hidden objects. This spell requires intense concentration and can be shattered if interrupted.

Absorption - Casts the spelldrinker upon himself, allowing certain spells to have no effect except to replenish his own reservoir of magicka. This spell requires little concentration but he has to be still while casting it.

Dispersion - Casts the purificant upon himself or others, removing all magical effects, good or bad. This can be cast at any time, even during battle.

Reflection - Casts the crimson mirror onto his body. This bounces certain spells cast upon him back onto his attackers. It must also be cast when stationary.

Being inborn and under-developed, his magical ability allows his spells to be manifested but not easily manipulated. This means he struggles to create the different forms of his Jutsus and has to physically throw his proectile spells towards his targets.

Lastly, Illick Nai was given the gift of healing by his Goddess, the Night Mother, after he completed a gauntlet of quests under her command. This gift allows him to heal faster than normal, allowing deep cuts to mend in minutes and broken bones to repair in just a few days. He also ages much slower as a result, making him seem perpetually younger than he really is.


Appearance: Medium height with strong upper body and legs. His muscular form and wide shoulders show clearly with his armour on—but his dark-grey skin and long pointed ears shows only from his open helmet. His red eyes are intense and gaze piercing under thick arched eyebrows.

Illick has two-toed feet (two toes a little larger than a conventional big toe separated in the shape of a ‘V’). These toes are the mark of his kin—a symbol of his people’s separation from the race of the Old Ones.


Personality: Illick Nai is an intense, pensive young Elf who trusts and respects those who earn it. He chooses his friends based on honour and action—as a result he has only a few.His mysterious thoughtful moods are often broken by sudden bursts of action that surprise enemy and friend alike, indicating that he often sifts through the situation thoroughly before making the decisive move.

He finds the crowds and walls of cities to be stifling, greatly preferring the open spaces and shaded canopies of the wilderness. Illick seeks the solace and calm only nature provides. He has a profound sense of honour and seeks it wherever he travels to. He is angered quickly in the face of deception and injustice and acts as a true hero no matter the risk to himself. He often would interrupt his own quests or travels to help anyone along the way.

He travels alone mostly but accepts the company of friends or fellow warriors. He fights well alongside them, knowing his place and supporting both in combat and at times, command. He does his part to keep his band together, placing faith in his comrades' ability to get along. At the first sign of dissention and separation Illick would calmly remind them of their original purpose, in the hope that it would be enough. If the group decides to disband, he would soldier on regardless, his resolve unbroken.

Illick worships the Night Mother Azura. She is the goddess of the moon and the paradox of mercy and vengeance. As a result he knows to trust his goddess to guide him in deciding who dies a violent death and who lives for penitence.

Biography:
His name was not always Illick Nai. His given name of Illdian he has chosen to forget. He clearly remembers his home in the rural district of the Dark Elf capital Anshayar in the northern lands of Eridrim.

He lived with his mother and father in a small house at the bottom of a shallow, tree-lined valley. Both his parents had been conscripted into service for the Emperor; his father’s skills as a craftsman was needed for the production of war tools and weapons while his mother helped prepare rations for the Imperial Army.

Soon Illick and others his age were left as little more than orphans as the Hundred-sword War enveloped the northern nations.


********


In an Imperial act of kindness, the Emperor, sensing the mistakes he had made early on in the War selected a number of disillusioned children citizens to leave their homes and live within the city where they would be taken care of and given the best education.
"The Golden Age" his mother sang tearfully on the last night his saw his parents, only days before he was carted off. He cried too, not understanding the privilege. He was five.

Nine years in an academy could not make him forget his roots, though the strict, harsh scholars tried. Teaching the sacred arts of the mystics and black mages was the only purpose Illick stayed within the ancient stone walls of the sanctum. The lessons fed his voracious appetite for knowledge while regular brawls with the other students fed his muscles.

Approaching the city on foot during a return trip from his rural home he was surprised to see smeared lines of smoke drawn toward the sky. His parents were away, probably still amongst the thousands working endlessly to feed the Emperor’s stockpiles in the shipyards. His mind was clouded with anger and sadness and the dark signs were lost to him.

He entered the open gates and was shocked to see buildings ablaze and spewing smoke into the twilight sky. He dashed to the sanctum which was situated along a rock outcrop jutting out towards the northern mountains. He threw open the brass doors and crossed the campus grounds at a lightning pace.

Frantic shouts echoed across the grounds and a few uniform-clad bodies littered the grass. He dropped his satchel, which had held a few gifts for his parents. All around his home for the last nine years for which had held so much spite and loathing was engulfed and gutted.

Soon shadowy figures ran into him, lifting and pushing him in all directions. Shouts, screams and battle cries rang in the air. He caught a glimpse of armoured men rushing into a house, weapons drawn. The unfamiliar whistle of arrows sang above his head.

He was snatched up and gagged and placed alongside others along the main street. Old men, merchants, women and even vagrants were lined up beside him. Strange soldiers were beheading them one by one, hastily, incompletely. A defiant Elf rose to his feet, ramming his attacker and drawing a knife. The soldiers drew heavy crossbows and peppered his body with bolts. As they neared the body Illick escaped, slipping free of his bonds and fleeing with the sounds of wet thuds and muffled groans behind him.

Illick was alone in a once bustling city. The only sounds he could hear were the almost greedy crackling of fires that devoured the beloved capital of the Dark Elves and the distant clangs and cries of battle.

He climbed to the top of a tree that grew out of the paving stones and saw even greater conflagrations sweeping across the rural bushlands to the south. Horrified, he ran immediately back the way he came earlier and found his path blocked by the Emperor's guard. They were marching into the city fully armed, ready for battle. Their leader, Briarios, ordered Illick to be taken back to camp. Illick protested and fought the guards holding him, desperate to get to the shipyards.


********


As Illick and his escorts neared the gates, a cluster of more strange warriors attacked; scattering and killing the men. Illick had to run or die. The choice taunted him for a moment and then made his decision. He snatched up a fallen soldier's kit and with all his heart and muscle he ran, barreling towards the cool, dark forest that seemed to deny the harsh orange glow of firelight and resist the deceptively tranquil morning sun that had slid over the horizon.


********


He wandered through the forests and lush countryside of Eridrim, staying in one place for only a few days at a time. Once the lines of smoke appeared on the horizon, he knew it was time ot move on.

With the Imperial soldier's bow and heavy blade he made his way through the once proud Dark Elf lands. Experience as a child taught him to hunt and feed himself and with the war tearing up the world around him, work was not hard to find in rural Eridrim. South of the city there were dozens of little hamlets crawling with refugees and soldiers. The town of Allech-Sur had been a base of defense for the Imperial army until its troops were ordered to the coast.

Imperial war effort was strong and he soon became a blacksmith's assistant, making arrows and repairing armour for the army. The work was satisfying and he performed well. The blacksmith, Walgaff, was an old Orc who took Illick as an apprentice, teaching him all he knew.

On his eighteenth birthday Illick made the ultra-hard steel knife that he still carries. Walgaff, proud of his apprentice, gave him a dust-coated package of wrapped canvas. The old sword long lost, and his old bow broken from overuse, Illick was told to unwrap it when he was ready to leave Allech-Sur.

Not long afterwards, a large contingent of enemy soldiers marched through the town unchecked, looting and burning all they could see. Illick joined the resistance without question and took up Walgaff's gift as he readied for battle. The Orc-smith nodded, trusting in Illick's courage and smarts to get him through. Walgaff smiled a little as he and the boy he treated as a son dissapeared into the night.

The soldiers had a name now. They were the Katafrax--men from the far Northern lands of Erun. They had launched a massive fleet into the great sea-river Calhadra in an attempt to capture the free lands of the Dark-Elven empire. Illick learned that his people and Emperor were betrayed by the human nation of Ramandu to the West. They attacked the Elven lands on the Western shores of the continent, blocking the reinforcements that were needed to protect the city.

With the Imperial City in ruins and the Elven forces blocked by Ramandi legions in the west, the only defense left was the Elven fleet docked in Anshayar and in the nearby islands of Gralis and Alin-Nur. Sadly it was those proud ships that were burned first, along with Illick's parents. No attack so swift and decisive has ever been heard of by any scholars of this age.

Illick unwrapped the package as his militia group readied themselves. They were to sneak into the soldier's campsite via the river and slay as many of them as possible before burning tents and freeing horses. The small skiff they were loaded onto was painted black in preparation. A large force of rebels atacked the soldiers in the narrow streets of Allech-Sur, distracting them to let Illick and his comrades in. The skiff slid silently over the water and as it neared the campsite, everything went wrong. The boat scudded on a soft barrier and stopped. The only sound was the flow of the water and the group's panicked breathing.

Only a few feet away were two scouts--half asleep and drunk, cursing each other and vomiting. Walgaff rose up, nearly capsizing them. He raised his weapon: a heavy broadsword of his own making; and swung into the barrier. Illick could not help but tighten as severed limbs flowed away from the mass of bodies clogging the river. In the moonlight the water looked like mercury as it shifted over the corpses and the boat lurched forward again. One of the scouts spotted them, and made to scream a warning. An arrow struck him on the lower jaw, breaking it and forcing his face inwards.

Illick dropped his arm that held the Harbinger and pulled another arrow into its nock as the scout fell, gurgling frantically to his partner. Illick let fly another arrow, this time striking the man in the heart. Walgaff grunted approvingly as the group climbed onto the bank.

Suddenly from out of the tents a robed man guarded by two others emerged. Without hesitation the man raised his hands, magically knocking all of them to the ground. As Walgaff and the others regained their footing, one of the man's guards rushed forward, cutting down Illick's comrades. Illick fired arrows at them but to no avail. Walgaff stood between the men and Illick, sword raised. The brutes closed in on him, beating him into submission and taking away his blade. Illick drew his knife and rushed forward, screaming with boundless hatred and savagery.

One of the men swung his weapon--too slow for Illick, who slit a wide gash in his bare forearm. As he spun to slice the other, a wave of force struck him, hurling his body like a rag doll into the skiff. The unwounded man raised Walgaff's sword and dealt Illick a deep slash across the chest. Blood spurted from his wound and his eyes bled redder than ever. With the last of his strength, Walgaff threw himself into Illick's attacker, both of them falling into the water. Walgaff rose first and shoved the skiff off. Illick's mind wandered in and out of conciousness as he lay in a thickening carpet of his own blood. He could not even see his friend's fate as the current spirited him downstream.

As he drifted, one image stayed with him. The pregnant moon, swollen and bright, penetrating his body with clear silver illumination. It was then that The Night Mother spoke to him. "Through all you have endured, my child of the Scion. Through the darkness you have swam, blind and feeble and yet you still swim. Through the beast's belly you have crawled and emerged from its throat. I will now give you what you have waited so long for." Illick smiled, thinking that death may not be so bad once a voice such as hers was there to greet him. "Be born. And seek my next gift in the blessed sands."

He awoke, far from the town, in a deep bend of the river as it broke into streams leading west. His wounds were all gone and so were his weapons. A glint in the water nearby drew him. His knife and bow were both half-buried in the soft wet sand. He rinsed them in the clear water and began walking, answering the strange call in his heart. He moved west, into the desert lands of Dempsand along the terra-cotta road built by his forefathers. He travelled deeper into the wilderness, drawn by Azura's blessing. He approached an ancient forest, unseen by the eyes of all peoples for centuries.

The guide was strong and he entered it confidently. As he climbed down the slick, entangled slope, his right foot landed and locked under a root hidden in the fallen leaves. The ground was wrenched away and he flew forward and up. A cry of anguish and fear escaped him as he vanished down a viciously steep slope, tumbling and gaining speed. The forest became a spiralling blur. His body struck a hunk of mossy dirt, painfully forcing the air out of his lungs. Momentarily stunned, a primal instinct flared. His mind snapped open abruptly and sharp gasp pulled revitalising air back into him.

Marshalling his thoughts into order, a vivid image of being impaled on sharp rocks arose and he pushed it away. Now sliding fast, his fingers met something solid and tightened into an iron grip. Stopping with a jerk, he swooned a little with dizziness. Beneath the soft moss and leaves there were small pebbles that dug into his back. A small cascade of dirt and debris skittered down and gathered, smelling strongly of decaying brush.

The rain had stopped, leaving only beams of sunlight visible through the treetops. Illidan sat up precariously. He looked around at his path down the slope and sighed. It was steep and mud-slicked from the rain---impossible to climb. His heart thumping hard, he stood up and limped forward. Besides a sore back and ankle nothing seemed badly wounded or bleeding. He walked slowly not putting too much strain on his ankle and to catch his breath. The trees were taller here, with branches that spread high up. Their rich auburn bark was gently ridged and pitted but had a smooth, polished texture. Beads of water ran down the trunks, glittering in the sunlight. A dense, earthy smell rose up out of the ground and flowed across his face as he walked. He was flanked on either side by trees that shaded his sun-dappled path. A slight wind rippled across his cloak and shook water from the leaves.

Bruised and shaken, Illidan followed the path until it sloped gently downwards, to where the earth cradled ancient moss-covered stone steps. Some were slanted and spilt with age and penetrated by roots and tiny leafy plants. As he made his way down the sound of falling water grew ever louder. The steps now descended alongside a wall of stone dotted with climbing vines and ferns. As the trees cleared he came upon a small pool glimmering in the sunlight like green glass. It was fed by twin slivers of icy white water coming over the precipice. A small stream led the water off into the forest. A myriad of glossy black stones cropped up around the banks and Illidan was forced to leap onto one as the steps continued downwards under a calm, watery veil.

Above the waterfall, a magnificent tree spread its branches in a wide, high circle leaving half the pool in light and half in sun-streaked shade. Its trunk twisted in a thick arc like a mighty serpent writhing toward the heavens. Its roots were as massive as the trunk itself, making other trees seem like saplings. Their endless gnarled extensions travelled down the precipice and into the pool. One enterprising root even crossed the stream above in a natural arched bridge.

Through the tapestry of roots and rocky outcroppings, a small spot halfway between the pool’s surface and the base of the tree caught Illick's’s eye. Fascinated, he stripped to the waist and waded into the cool water. Only a few feet away from wall of rock was something partially obscured by the mist thrown up by the falling water. The cool water pounded his back and shoulders momentarily as he passed under the waterfall. He scrambled onto a nearby rock and held onto a tough, woody root for stability. Again it was hidden. Now by jutting stone held in place by muscular looking roots.

He climbed carefully using the odd composition of earth and root as a natural ladder. It had taken only a few reaches to come upon what he was looking for. Between two plate-sized chunks of mossy stone, held together by roots diminished to the thickness of fingers, was a rod. Or at least a rod is what it looked like. It was the colour of decaying wood and as long as his arm. Upon closer inspection he realised it was not absolutely straight but had a gentle curve. He reached for it and almost fell. Steadying himself he succeeded in grabbing it and felt its damp, spongy texture.

Fears nearing confirmation that it was just an old piece of wood, he tightened his grip and rocked it in place to be sure. To his astonishment the soft surface crumbled in his palm to reveal a spotless metallic shine. His spirit suddenly blazed anew with intrigue. Its anonymity was intoxicating. The suspense began to eat away at his patience and he fought it. Calmly he worked it free putting its suspected value out of his mind. The roots’ reluctance to let go began to ebb and the stones’ jealous grip weakened. It slid free with a jerk and Illick’s balance was shoved away. Hitting the churning, bubbling water was not as bad as he thought until he realised he could not resurface.

Neither could he breathe and in his shock, swallowed the dense, cold water without thinking. Horrible as he felt he began to see that he was not alone down here. Dark, sinuous shapes hovered out of his range of vision. Some were fuzzy and indistinct while other, more massive forms loomed behind them. Something brushed against his back and he turned, still holding his breath. A multi-tentacled creature the colour of mud shot away into the shadows. Soon he felt others, bumping into his arms, legs and shoulders from every imaginable direction. His legs were being pulled and shoulders depressed into the soft mud.
Part enraged and part desperate he flailed wildly with his arms.

A creature swimming directly into his arms fell apart in pieces, blood staining the water like a gruesome dark bloom. He stared at his hands which were made of knives. His fingers were each a blade, sharp as any he had ever seen and bringing them into a fist made a crisp metallic clicking. Even his elbows and knees held viciously curved blades which seemed to sprout from his very bones. Never wasting a moment of breath he slashed savagely at his attackers, dismembering them and impaling them as they fled. His legs lifted off the mud and he floated towards the surface, still fighting them off by the dozens.

He kept swinging until he rose out of a cloud of their murky blood. A towering shadow reached down to grab him, to force him back down to where he knew hundreds more were clamouring to have him. As the hand closed over him he lashed out with both arms and severed two of the three fingers which sank like fallen trees. Rising faster now his breath wrung in his chest and his arms could stroke no more. Another dark appendage twisted its way toward him and with muscles on fire and lungs ready to explode he exhaled violently and slashed with all his might.

Stale air blasted out of his mouth and nostrils with impossible force and quantity. Soon the water all around him was agitated with rising bubbles. As Illick’s eyelids slid shut his face broke the surface, with the endless pounding of the waterfall in his ears. Revived and groggy he was surprised to feel the ground beneath his feet and even more so to discover his find still in his grasp. Holding it to the light, his hand trembled a little as the edge of a curve-bladed sword shone through its encasement of wet, rotted wood.

********

Sword and bow strapped on, Illick travelled far into Dempsand where he quested to find small chunks of meteorite-steel. He built a forge in a ruined village only a few miles south of the capital of Ramandu. He would climb to the top of a broken tower every morning and stare at the city's outline in the distance. It inspired him to forge his first suit of armour, the Indoril armament. Armed and ready, he waged a secret war with the Ramandi Legions, assasinating generals and breaking the morale of the district forces. In a broad daylight strike he skewered the prince of Ramandu, making him a hero in the eyes of
all the embattled Dark Elves. Afterward, with an entire nation at his throat he resolved to give up the war and show them mercy. He retreated into solitude and left a veritable army of rebels following in his wake.

He melted down his iconic armour and travelled as a wandering swordsman to the southern human lands. These kingdoms and the empire to the far south strongly opposed the Ramandi and the Katafrax and eventually helped in their defeat. In the great city of Lindum, Illick met an old Samurai who had heard of his deeds. The blind warrior gave him drawings of Elven Samurai armour and Illick quickly retrieved his meteorite steel from its hiding place. In another forge along the edges of the dark lands of Druuna, he prepared his new skin to continue his life as an adventurer. The steel, once melted again could no longer be
re-forged. The metal was stronger than before and he needed to use his magic to heat the forge, forming an abnormally high quality meld in the plate-segements. His custom-made armour is a source of great pride to him.

With his new armour and powerful weapons and skills, he is now faced by the constantly changing face of evil and deception and now wanders the lands in the hope of seeking it wherever it cowers.

********

Would someone take a look at my new-ish character please? I'm really anxious to get started battling again.

Illick Nai is not too different from the old Illdian which was approved, just his looks have changed and bio expanded a little.

Explain your listed spells: fire, frost, shock, poison, damaging, remote detection, absorption, dispersion and reflection.

Ok I edited it, made it a lot clearer i think

Okay, does he have an outfit he wears when he's not wearing his armor? What does he wear underneath it? These might be some things you'll want to develop more.

You'll want to expand on his personality a little bit more too. Like, what kinds of things make him angry? How does he deal with his anger? Is he pensive in a dark and mysterious way? Brooding? Or more tranquil? Think about questions like that. Try to think of some other questions about his personality to ask yourself.

You've got a nice strong history, but what happens after he ran away from the army that attacked his hime village? How did he get his armor? Where did he go? How did he survive? Stuff like that.

Hi Shrub. Whew. I finally finished it. Tell me if its up to ur spec-i-fi-ca-tion.

lol, yeah, that's better. Kool beans, dark elves rock my socks off ^_- I have a few characters of my own that are drows.

Good job.

*approved*

Thankx sOOOOOO much! lotsa luv!