Post by Pretty Beetle on Jan 28, 2005 23:06:12 GMT -5
Name: Pretty Beetle
Life calling (skill): Earth/mind based Occultism.
Race: Ferves
Sex: Male
Height: 24 inches tall
Age: 2024 (It does not make Beetle stronger, he is just a long lived immortal.)
Equipment: Mithril dagger (Very strong, light, and imbued with ancient magic.), Ferves-made banded armor(Light, Durable, and imbued with ancient magic), a ring whose aura surrounds Pretty's body, protecting him from medium amounts of evil intent. Finally, Pretty wears an amulet that allows him to instantly transmit his body to any place he has already ventured.
Brief history: Beetle, until he or the gods decide it is his time, shall live on through the ages, skipping ahead and falling into moments of slumber, though forever watching through glassy, crystalline eyes. Born to a tribe of creatures only known as Ferves, Beetle worked his way through every day, expanding his position and valor within the world. Well, within the areas related to the Ferves. Before long the small creature had found himself seated atop a throne of vines among only four others. He was part of ther Fervian counsel, which overlooked all of the Fervian society. Short-lived it was though. A foreign tribe of beings overtook, destroyed, and disbanded the Ferves, leaving few to live. Those that did survive fled, finding homes in new lands, distant from each other. It is, to Beetle's knowledge, that he is the only Ferves left to exist. So here he wanders, selling his magic and his services, low and alone. His once jovial spirits have been destroyed, leaving him only the hope to find another of his tribe.
Sample Paragraph: :The pitter patter of gnawing feet ran soft against the forest floor, skittering orbs glowing in the twaining light. The breath was gentle, flowing freely within and without minature lungs. The rat-skull head looked this way and that through the night, twisting amounts of sinew binding the skull's fragile pieces to each other. The small creature let free its own form of speech, questioning which way was right, which way was wrong. There was no turn involved, but for some reason the being couldn't make up its mind. Its right claw rose to the bone-white skull, scratching at it. Without warning the being hunched at the waist, the crack and then 'sploosh!' of wings exploding from Pretty's back was enough to ruffle the dying leaves that lay to the soft earth. The wings released cracking sounds the first few times they rose and fell, yet receded into gentle silence as Pretty lifted free of the ground. He was borne to the air, flitting between trees and shrubbery. The little animal was quick to the ground, yet amazingly fast once to the air...
Life calling (skill): Earth/mind based Occultism.
Race: Ferves
Sex: Male
Height: 24 inches tall
Age: 2024 (It does not make Beetle stronger, he is just a long lived immortal.)
Equipment: Mithril dagger (Very strong, light, and imbued with ancient magic.), Ferves-made banded armor(Light, Durable, and imbued with ancient magic), a ring whose aura surrounds Pretty's body, protecting him from medium amounts of evil intent. Finally, Pretty wears an amulet that allows him to instantly transmit his body to any place he has already ventured.
Brief history: Beetle, until he or the gods decide it is his time, shall live on through the ages, skipping ahead and falling into moments of slumber, though forever watching through glassy, crystalline eyes. Born to a tribe of creatures only known as Ferves, Beetle worked his way through every day, expanding his position and valor within the world. Well, within the areas related to the Ferves. Before long the small creature had found himself seated atop a throne of vines among only four others. He was part of ther Fervian counsel, which overlooked all of the Fervian society. Short-lived it was though. A foreign tribe of beings overtook, destroyed, and disbanded the Ferves, leaving few to live. Those that did survive fled, finding homes in new lands, distant from each other. It is, to Beetle's knowledge, that he is the only Ferves left to exist. So here he wanders, selling his magic and his services, low and alone. His once jovial spirits have been destroyed, leaving him only the hope to find another of his tribe.
Sample Paragraph: :The pitter patter of gnawing feet ran soft against the forest floor, skittering orbs glowing in the twaining light. The breath was gentle, flowing freely within and without minature lungs. The rat-skull head looked this way and that through the night, twisting amounts of sinew binding the skull's fragile pieces to each other. The small creature let free its own form of speech, questioning which way was right, which way was wrong. There was no turn involved, but for some reason the being couldn't make up its mind. Its right claw rose to the bone-white skull, scratching at it. Without warning the being hunched at the waist, the crack and then 'sploosh!' of wings exploding from Pretty's back was enough to ruffle the dying leaves that lay to the soft earth. The wings released cracking sounds the first few times they rose and fell, yet receded into gentle silence as Pretty lifted free of the ground. He was borne to the air, flitting between trees and shrubbery. The little animal was quick to the ground, yet amazingly fast once to the air...