*Name: Turic

*Gender: Male

*Appearance (include eye/skin/hair colour): Skinny and lanky, soft, short light brown hair, lively grey-green eyes. Long, boyish sort of face, but always had dark circles under his eyes making him look older then he is. Pale, sallow skin.

*Defects (only required if the character has any): Leprosy (beginning stages)

Age: 28

Personality: Turic is under the impression that since he is dying, it would be a good idea to start making amends with the Lord (or whatever higher powers their may be). He is terrified of losing his soul when his disease finally claims his life, but unfortnately, he is a mischief maker and scoundrel and is therefore constantly wrestling with a desire to do good to please the Lord while battling his natural naughty streak. He has a VERY sarcastic sense of humor and is prone to depression as his leprosy keeps people away. He often gets very lonely, dwelling constantly on mortality. He's got a phobia of spiders and has a terrible sense of direction. He's very sneaky and is very adapt at pick pocketing.

History: He's been a thief all his life, at times a mercenary and assassin. While he doesn't like killing, the challenge of a good heist always intrigues him.

Sample post:


He was lost again.

Normally that wouldn't not have bothered him, since lack of direction more often then that led to adventure and opportunity to practice picketing something shiny from an unsuspecting sap that his quick fingers had robbed before they had time to gasp in shock at being in such close proximity to such filth. But today, the clouds hung ominously low and he glared up at them in challenge, grumbling unhappily about being cursed with no sense of direction. The trees had slowly morphed into things greener, more lush and secretive then he remembered and he stuck out his tongue at them, damning them as well into tiny pieces of firewood. When the trees made no retaliation, he marched past them in a huff, swinging his arms as he twirled in a circle to get the full specticale of the unfamiliar terrain. He had no idea how long he'd been shuffling, but he reminded himself it wasn't as if he had any previous engagements to be concerned about. In fact, there wasn't anything he had to be concerned about really except getting caught in the damned rain that had been following and threatening to release on him since noon.

Eventually the trees tampered down to grassy knolls (which he promptly tripped over), and the knolls tampered down to gently sloping hills (which to his adament surprise he did not trip down). And suddenly the obnoxious green of the ground gave way to yellow-flecked stone and the man paused, took one step back, two steps backed and then slid a booted foot forward. The stone remained where the grass had ended. His brow furrowed quizzical and stooping his lanky figure he ran a wrapped finger along the ground, following the moss crack in the rock.

It led him several metres forward, twisting around a tree root and back until the shadow of a crumbling wall was the only warning he got before his face collided with it. With a groan he straightened, scrubbing at his red forehead with a leather bound hand...and stood, jaw-dropped upon opening his eyes. Inches before him rose a solid stone wall of what was once a massive room overlooking the ocean, it's arched windows left open and decaying to the elements. Tilting his head all the way back, he still could barely see the top keystones.

"Huh," he offered noncommitally. "Pretty sure I haven't collided into this one before."





Anything else you wish to include: He won't live to see 35,as his disease will claim his life. As he is still in the beginning stages, he has yet to don a leper's mask, but keeps his hands and arms bound in wrappings at all times.

*Your player name: Alora

Turic
This city, this city is haunted
There's no hope left for these souls