Name: Aidan Donovan am Delian
Gender: Male
Age: 34
Race: Human(of the lands of Tylwythau Treftadaeth Etifedd)
Appearance: Aidan stands around 6'2 with a well toned form and bright blond hair. He tends to wear a heavy cloth cloak and a couple leather harnesses, but otherwise is completed naked and bare to he world, his body covered in tribal paint patterns that grants him divine protection and ability. He carries a large round shield made with a dense wooden core framed by steel, the center painted with a war banner of his order. He also has a carved wooden spear tipped with a simple steel tip, and 3 foot sword with an intricately carved hilt from his homeland.
Personality: Aidan is normally relatively calm, even if he can be blunt or crude about things without much thought. Despite tis, when someone annoys him he is given to fits of rage-which is made worse by his Ki abilities since often times when he flies into a fury he releases a shockwave of fear without even noticing it. Beyond this, he tends to be encouraging of fights due to his background, believing combat an excellent way to settle differences and preferable to diplomacy. He also is slightly disdainful of those who wear armor, or those who follow the life of a peasant and think themselves above warriors. Both he believes are weaker men and women who should know their place.
Special Abilities: His abilities are drawn from his heritage. His homeland is beset by war caused by ancient rivalry and endless cycles of a warrior tradition. Though he is nude, the painted marks on his skin bless him with his patron god of war from his homeland, hardening his flesh and enhancing his physical abilities. Alongside this he possesses skills in many styles of group warfare, from scattered to formation. He is able to do basics of training and has the very arts flowing in his blood. His last ability is perhaps his most notable-he has a line of advanced Ki abilities that were taught to him by his warrior society at home, the ability to expand his Ki as auras around him, enhancing allies or debilitating foes.
Items of Interest: A tribal sword made of simple but strong steel from his homeland, the grip and guard are a design marking his family and tribe.
Woad Paint, a special paint mixture steeped in legend and religious lore from his homeland. It has been blessed by a priest, and he has a good stock on him should he ever need to replace his "armor". By drawing the paint in holy symbols on his skin, he draws upon divine blessing.
Heavy Tight Wove Cloak-this allows him to curl up in colder weather, as well as prevent backstabbing or projectiles from catching him from behind in combat. It also doesn't feel good to be whipped by in a fight.
A large banner round shield, it is of a heavy hardwood, thick and over a meter in diamete. It's edge is sealed with hardened steel, and the face painted with the war banner of his old warrior society, marking him proud of the heritage and of his abilities-not that the markings would be known to many around here.
A tribal spear, the shaft hard carved from a solid branch of oak by him and tipped with a steel tip.
History: I was born in the lands of Tylwythau Treftadaeth Etifedd far to the north, to the tribe of Delian, to the line of Donovan, to the given name of Aidan. From birth I was taught the arts of combat, as well as various peasant arts for times when raids were rare and loot scattered. Upon reaching the age of twelve, I stood before my elders and was tested with my teachings to enter the ranks of the raiders. My village had been raided before, and I had tasted combat, but I had yet to be initiated as a true warrior yet. I stood before the trials of arms and cunning, and fought hard. Veteran warriors were my goes, but I proved my skills and received the rights of the warrior-but adulthood would still be a ways off.
I stripped from my clothes, and stood besides several other boys and girls who had also aptly proved themselves. We stood at attention there, bare before the world, fully vulnerable as we witnessed a priest of the God of War step forward, carrying a jar of blue paint. He blessed our rising, and so were we painted, elders coming forth to draw the holy designs upon our bare skin. I could feel the divine power pulse in the paint, feel my birthright cover me in a shell of protection that no mortal armor could. I stood proud beside my brothers and sisters, young and supple flesh that had been fed from my mothers breast and soon would feast from the wounds of my enemies, weened.
We set forth, taking to he seas with the elder warriors and raiding a village that was not far away. It was peace, but it was our duty to he gods to raid our neighbors. We struck out and fought the defenders, swarming with a cry and quickly taking them down. My first blood, and the first of many raids.
Time went on, and I reached adulthood, my raids continuing, my battle prowess growing. Eventually, a lord noticed me, and took a liking. Shortly after I was approached by a warrior society, being drawn into their influential ranks. Cyfeillachwr Swyddog Maes, that was my new title. My tribe was no longer my true home, my family was no longer my closest supporters. I was taken in and taught to meld the energies of men and there fervor, both of devotion and fear. I was taught to draw the best from my allies with powerful speeches blessed by the ancient powers.
And in that lifestyle I find myself approaching the modern day. That Dalradian bastard Cathair had raised a war party of his people, leading there dishonorable bloodthirsty hides south to raid many lands and butcher many. My society was allied with one of his enemies, and I was assigned to the warband hunting him. We fought hard, and slayed many, but had to fall back due to him getting lucky and having an opportunity to drive off half our force. We had to flee through the waterways as he chased, finding ourselves in the Morwrol am Trancedigaeth, the rock filled waters where storms rise from the seas themselves to crush the unwary. A storm erupted and destroyed both our fleets, crushing them along the rocks and casting us into the sea.
Me and some others awoke on cold shores far from our home, only a couple of out possessions held close to use in what we believed death with us. We stood, naked and bare before the wind blowing from the sea. We glanced at each other and took our stuff, heading inland. It is suicide to approach our home from sea, and the mountain passes are controlled by hated enemies. We had no choice but to travel further afield.
Eventually, I heard of the man who had that bastard warlord Caith in bondage, and came to get a laugh at him and his fate-and then stayed on.
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