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The Lord Ruler's perfect capital city, Luthadel, is doing the impossible: rebelling. Skaa half-breeds are being taught the power of Allomancy, something that the Lord Ruler's obligators said only existed in the nobility. The enslaved skaa, with their murderous benefactor, now fight back against a living god's oppression.

So, the Inquisition was formed. The nobles begin to fear assassination from all sides. The times of nobility Mistborn killing each other are over. The Steel Inquisitors look for aristocrat traitors and insurgent skaa, and the skaa try with all their strength to merely survive. The Lord Ruler's perfect Final Empire is slowly devolving into chaos.

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1 reply to this topic

#1 Eythen

Riordan Casuana's Reputation

Posted 31 August 2010 - 12:40 PM


Player Information
Handle :Eythen
Contact :Primeape03(at)sbcglobal.net, or alternatively Primeape03 on AIM

Character Information
Name: Eythen (Pronounced Ethan, just wanted a more setting-appropriate spelling)
Age: 28
Type: Skaa
Gender: Male
Occupation: Openly a blacksmith of increasing reknown, Eythen is also a dealer of Allomantic metals of the highest purities.
Marital Status: Single

Type of Powers: Allomancy
Metals Used: All
Degree of Skill: Snapped. Borderline savant with iron and steel, advanced in pewter, intermediate in copper, novice/intermediate level skills for the remaining 4 basic metals, has never burned gold or atium.

Hair: A dirty blond that he keeps trimmed close to his scalp for reasons both work-related and personal preference, though it has a penchant for sticking straight upward at the top of his head where it is longest.
Eyes: An unusual faint blue/gray blend with a darker blue ring along the outer edge.
Height: 6' 8"
Weight: 238 lbs
Voice: Deep baritone or light bass, with a very rumbling tone, like distant thunder heralding a storm.
Overall Appearance: Much to Eythen's dismay, he is often mistaken for a terrisman or inquisitor due to his sheer size, particularly the latter when wearing black, a color he tends to avoid for exactly that reason. Standing taller than any skaa or nobleman he has met or seen in passing, Eythen's intimidating frame is also finely chiseled with thick muscle from a life of hard work. Hidden beneath his favored, if simple, vests and shirts are an array of scars. Despite a frame that tends to unnerve those he towers over, there is an innate gentleness to his eyes and the soft rumbling of his voice.

Special Skills: Eythen is a master blacksmith, having worked alongside his father in the smithy since he was capable of lifting even the smallest of hammers. He believes that it is this long and intimate relationship with metalworking that has given him the superior control over iron and steel he currently possesses. As a poorly-hidden hobby, Eythen enjoys making particularly gorgeous stained-glass windows depicting the legends of times when the world was not red and ash.
Strengths: Feats of strength, forging and metalworking, evaluating metal purity for Allomantic use. Due to his budding savant-level talents in iron and steel, Eythen is capable of seeing metal sources as more than one single blue line, allowing for very fine manipulation not normally seen in Lurchers, Coinshots, or even other Mistborn. It is this talent that allows him to be such an unparalleled blacksmith and metal dispenser.
Weaknesses: Subtlety, as he tends to wear his emotions on his sleeve, as well as not being particularly bright, and matters of stealth due to his uncommon size. A fondness for children also makes him very easy to manipulate through them, and his compassion for others tends to lead him down the path of gullibility. His focus on iron and steel has also left him slightly lacking in capacity for the other allomantic metals, save for copper by necessity.

Eythen as a blacksmith is a very hardworking and honest man, building a great reputation both for the quality of his work and the fairness of his prices. He will not do shoddy work for a skaa, nor will he overcharge a noble simply because they can afford it. Inside his shop and smithy visitors and customers both old and new are greeted warmly, and by the time they leave will have more than likely divulged at least part of their life's story to his eager ears. In this aspect of his life, Eythen has a rare zest for life and takes great joy in his work.

As a distributor of Allomantic metals, Eythen is a more reserved figure. He knows fully well what these metals will be used for, and while he finds violence reprehensible, he would rather an allomancer (regardless of skaa or noble heritage) get his or her metals with their purity assured at a fair price than have them be cheated with an exorbitantly priced bad mix. An impure batch of metals, after all, could kill an allomancer regardless of whether the metals were being burned to attack or defend.

The mistborn Eythen is nothing short of a withdrawn, grim visage. He did not ask for these abilities, nor the responsibility that came with them. He is painfully aware of the position to affect the world his nature puts him in, and he is very vehement towards it. Hesitant to join a side in the conflicts of the Final Empire, he sees both the good and bad, rebel or noble. He wishes to see the Lord Ruler's oppressive reign brought to an end, that his children or grandchildren might live in a world of blue and green like the legends of old, but he does not believe he is the right man to make the choices needed to bring this about.

As a whole, Eythen is slightly naive and altruistic. When he acts, regardless of in which aspect of his life it is, he does so with the best of intentions and the betterment of the lives of others in mind. He is also very reserved in his burning of pewter, as his own natural strength is enough to match most Pewterarms, and tapping into pewter's power transforms him into a behemoth of a man that he secretly fears, one strong enough to even give an inquisitor pause.

On the far side of the Crescent Dominance, Rhyna Densho was one of the loveliest noblewomen of her time. She was beautiful, intelligent, and had a taste for the finest metal-workings in her decor. Unbeknown to her husband, Lord Garramond Densho, this taste extended to the blacksmith who made them for her. When their secret meetings yielded a bright-eyed son clearly not fathered by Lord Densho, the child was ordered cast into the river.

And so the child was, in a weakly-woven basket (to ensure he drifts far from our keep, Rhyna assured). Down the river he was carried, into the arms of the blacksmith Darcis, anxious to meet his son Eythen for the first time. In the cover of mist Darcis stole away, tools of his trade and most importantly his son, in tow. To the innermost border of the Crescent Dominance they travelled, Darcis setting up a new smithy and with it, a new life for he and Eythen.

The boy grew faster than any plant could aspire to compare, and fast made a second home of his father's forge, watching with eyes hungry in their luminescence as Darcis worked, mimicing each strike of the hammer with his own wooden toy. By the age of 4, and a good head taller than other boys of 5 and 6, the wooden toy had been exchanged for the lightest of his father's tools, and Eythen joyfully spent his days banging upon scraps of tin beside Darcis as he worked. Nearing 6 years of age and also nearing the height of a boy of 8, the seeming prodigy of the forge was making nails, brackets, and hinges almost faster than his proud father could sell them.

As he grew, Eythen's hunger for work in the forge was rivaled only by one other thing: The stories told by the terrisman servants sent to place or retrieve orders from Master Darcis. While it became apparent not all knew fantastic legends of days gone by, those who did were often delayed in their return trips by 'Young Master Eythen's' insatiable appetite for the riveting yarns.

The ash was falling thickly late in the 8th year of Eythen's life, and Darcis's heart swelled with pride with each successful project his 'not-so-little boy' completed. Father became as eager to teach as son was to learn, and the shop prospered all the more for it. Both were oblivious to the shadows drawing closer to their doorstep for it.

Nine years of age, tall and athletically lean as a young man several years his senior, Eythen's strong arms and back were often employed to help with deliveries in the city as the ash continued to fall thickly. Elders grew concerned of the child's presence outside so late, cautioning him of the night and its mists, but he payed them no heed. The mists had been daunting at first, certainly, but as months passed he would take longer routes home to walk amongst the strangely comforting wisps. On one such night, the door was found wide open upon his return home, and the voices of several strange men rang angrily from the forge.

The scene in what had become so comfortable a home for Eythen was mortifying. The strange men had been sent by Lord Densho upon his hearing word of the famed blacksmith and his prodigal son. Several of the hostile figures held Darcis tightly as another methodically shattered the master smith's fingers with his own hammer and anvil, blood and angry red burns covering his face and arms, yet Darcis would not confirm the existence of his cherished son to them, silently praying the boy was taking the longest route home he knew.

An enraged cry erupted forth from Eythen's mouth, and to his own eyes lines of blue light matched this explosion from his chest. The racks of tools on the forge's walls rattled even as the men turned in shock towards the boy. Hammers and tongs, scraps and bars of iron flew from shelf and rack alike, buffeting the assailants in passing. A hammer found its way to Eythen's hand, and his fury burned all the more molten within him. Sinew and muscle surged with new-found might.

The distance between men and boy vanished before either could blink, hammer sundering bone as one head after another caved. Blades and scraps alike cut at his skin but went ignored. Before the gravity of his actions could truly register with him, the forge was silent again. Four full-grown men laid dead on the floor, the dripping hammer falling from Eythen's trembling grasp as battered and broken father drew him close.

Boxings and the most meager of possessions were gathered as the forge was stoked hotter than it was ever meant to be. As the pair fled the city, the place they had called home blazed beneath a veil of mist. When the fires had died and the wreckage cooled, there would be no telling how many bodies there had been amongst the fused metal and ash. Wounds were tended as best they could on the run and by a boy.

Far they traveled. And farther still, to Luthadel, the keystone of the Final Empire. Even if more men had been sent by Lord Densho, they would never be found here. With what boxings they had saved up, a new smithy could be opened. Though Darcis's hand was mangled and his own ability to work metal nearly destroyed, he could still instruct the boy as he grew. And grew. And grew.

Nineteen years, and no sign of men sent by Lord Densho. Almost two decades, and Eythen's skills, in both forging and allomancy, had grown almost as much as he had. Those strange powers that had awoken in him that night..while they had fearsome applications.. he had found that some actually enhanced his smith-work, and the Goldheart Forge, named for its proprietor's integrity, had prospered for it. With a generous amount of help from Darcis in manners of bookkeeping and ledgers, of course, whose pride in his son was all the compensation the aging cripple needed.

But there were whispers of rebellion in the mists, and even the most serene of stained-glass scenery could not make Eythen forget what might lay ahead of him.

Roleplay Sample

Eythen loathed the ashfalls. The curtain of black and gray was all too perfect a representation of the oppression plaguing the Final Empire, impenetrable and hiding the light of hope from many a skaa. Perhaps his head had been filled with too many terrisman tales in his youth, but the smith believed that things had been better once, they could be better again.

Was he the man to cause such a change, or have a grand role in doing so?

Will you will be a tool of strife? Blood will stain you, even if washed clean, as dozens of lives fall before you. His father's words echoed in his head, drowning out even the ringing of the hammer, the hiss of heated metal quenched. Copper, iron, steel, pewter. All burned within him as he worked, surely and steadily as his forge burned behind him.

Or. Will you will be a hero? Hundreds of lives will be saved by your mettle, tempered in the fires of conflict, honed to a shining beacon. The muted ringing died down, preceding another low, burbling hiss.

This is the choice you and you alone must make.

Rag in hand, the blade was removed from the quenching bath, and Eythen glared at it with contempt, extinguishing his metals. It was not for its quality, no. This blade would sell for a high price, the flaws in its metal carefully extracted and laying about the smithy's floor. Its edge would hold true against countless lesser blades and armor.

No, the contempt was because he hated forging weapons, almost as much as he loathed the ashfalls. They were growing thick, as thick as they had been two decades prior. Soon, his life would change again. Soon, he would have a choice thrust upon him, one he did not want to make. This blade could be used for suffering or salvation, guided by its wielder, and that was why he hated it.

He could not control this blade's fate any more than he felt he could control his own. People would try to use him, wield him, just as this weapon would be. His magics had made this blade what it was, so to Eythen, it was akin to him.

It was...



Edit: Slightly adjusted his physical statistics to properly represent the intended colossal physique of the character.

Edited by Eythen, 01 September 2010 - 03:49 AM.

#2 KChan

Atium Chandelier

Posted 01 September 2010 - 06:29 AM

It gives me great pleasure to finally stamp you Accepted! Welcome to the RP! Eythen's going to be a great addition to the community. :D

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