Personal
Name: York Pehri
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Class: Trickster
Rank: D-rank
Guild: Rune Knight
Tattoo: Green, on the tongue
Face: Alba - Senyu
Appearance
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 130 lbs
Hair: Chestnut brown and windswept; ear length
Eyes: Black
Overall: York, despite his appearance at first glance, carries a very cynical tone around him. His posture is sloppy at times, often sporting a slouch, and his eyes are frequently found filled with sleep.
He dresses quite basic most of the time, not caring for dress code if he can get away with it. His favorite outfit is a very comfortable red t-shirt and forest green shorts, kept warm when needed by black hiking boots and a ragged black cloak big enough to flow all around his body. In general he likes things that are durable and allow for free movement, with his cape being the exception in that he just thinks it's really cool. If you tell him to remove the cape at any point he'll tell you to go f-... do something else.
When off-duty, his love of the bar can lead to an even more rugged appearance than normal, often accompanied by the smell of cheap beer. Quantity over quality, after all.
Not much can be said about York's build - he's shorter than average for his age, childlike in appearance, and scrawny. Many mistake him for somebody between 14 - 16 years of age due to this combination of things. No one could blame them, with his full head of hair and bright, undamaged, glowing skin.
Extra: His voice also sounds like it belongs to a fifteen year old. He has a symbol on his stomach as well.
Personality
Personality: As previously mentioned, York is cynical and has had his morality deteriorate over the years. Having long grown tired of the common mistake others make about his age, he has in recent years played along with the misconceptions of others and pretended to be a younger child to get what he wants.
As a Rune Knight one is expected to serve the people and inspire confidence in commoners to make them feel safe. In that regard, York fails spectacularly. It's not unlike him to rush to someone's aid while holding his morning cup of coffee, negotiating in a hostage situation by telling the captor that their hostage isn't even worth spending a bullet on, or slaughtering criminals in front of the eyes of children. Sometimes all in the same day. He may even attend their funerals, drunk, just to laugh until he's removed from the property.
While some of his colleagues say he's treading on thin ice, he disagrees. He thinks that he's simply pushing the upper limit of what should be tolerated as part of a Rune Knight's duty. Excessive displays of force can discourage future villains before they even gain power. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, and bureaucracy is a flawed system.
York has an alcohol problem as well, due to the trauma he endured as a child. Even so, he pretends it isn't there, or the grudge he has against the one who changed his life so drastically. Other than his one grudge, York could be seen as one who doesn't hold resentment for people on a constant basis, and lets bygones be bygones more often than he should. Unless it would make sense to kill a person, he often won't, even if he personally feels angered by them. If he hates a person and it makes sense to kill them, though? They're getting the worst funeral service anyone could imagine.
Nevertheless, York still realizes his place in the world as merely a servant of the people and a shield defending the weak. For now, anyway.
Likes:
- Digging: As a passion, York likes digging holes for various purposes. Whether it be to put a corpse in the ground, plant a nice garden, or jump into for fun, he loves digging. It's a therapeutic exercise for him that relieves stress through labor.
- Alcohol: York would fit in well with miners and sailors, because after a long day of work he loves to get hammered at whatever bar the town he's in might have. Or even when he's still working. Hell, he just loves getting drunk. Especially when he's digging holes. Despite his small body he has surprisingly high alcohol tolerance, which he abuses on a daily basis to get through everything that might come his way.
Dislikes:
- Intellectuals: Not that York hates smart people, but he can't stand people who proclaim themselves as "intellectuals" who act like they know all the answers. Whether it be the edgy cool loners who think they're superior for a lack of emotion, or the brain geniuses who love to correct any tiny flaw in a person's speech or actions, anyone pompous about their superiority in such a way genuinely annoys him.
- Hypocrites: Weakest are those that can't even stick to their beliefs, or contradict them. While a change in viewpoint over time or a realization that changes a person's ideals is fine, people who go against their own selves should be put beneath the dirt or ignored and forgotten. As someone who would stick by his beliefs to the end, York can't understand those who don't; nor does he ever want to.
Motivations:
- Find a cure to his curse: Ever since the age of 15, he's been struck with a terrible curse that, while his body still ages, his physical appearance does not. Obviously this can prove inconvenient to somebody as they get older, so York's primary goal as he learns magic is to find a cure to this curse one day.
Fears:
- Clowns: The unnatural makeup and color combinations mix with York in a bad way, especially when combined with the off-putting jovial attitude clowns take up. You can never tell what a clown is thinking, and that fact makes them one of York's greatest foes.
- The Ocean: Or more specifically, the potential for what lurks beneath. It's a vast abyss that could contain anything from other dead travelers to sealed and sleeping old gods according to the many books he's read on the ocean to try and get over this fear. Ironically, it only had the opposite effect.
Magic
Magic Name: Shovel Magic
Magic Element: None
Magic Description:
"Oh boy, sure are a lot of graves left to dig."
Decidedly the name of the magic needs work, but York nonetheless believes that this magic he picked up from a drunk ex-con has some potential for great things. Namely, putting all the scum of the earth... in the earth.
Shovel Magic, shockingly, revolves around the ability to conjure and either wield or mentally control shovels of varying size, quality and shape. Defensive shovels to block nuclear attacks, offensive shovels to put some dirtbags six feet under, etc.
This magic pushes the limits of what shovels can do, intending to turn them from a tool used to dig holes into a tool used to dig graves.
It apparently has a rich history of its uses for old miners back when magic was less common, and that it was once derived from an ancient Lost Magic used to exorcise powerful undead, but York didn't bother staying around long enough to hear the story. It can make shovels, after all. What more did he need to know other than that?
History
History: - Spoiler:
York, for most of his life, was a normal boy. Admittedly a little too interested in dissecting worms, but nonetheless a kid who didn't harm 99% of life. Living in an orphanage located in the forests outside Oak Town, it was a peaceful life. With all the other kids around and some nice caretakers, young York didn't really question where his parents were. He didn't need to question anything when he was already in the only place he's ever known, after all.
One day at the age of 14, he met a nice old lady who visited the orphanage. She introduced herself as Madam Roselle, looking for a child to adopt. After scouting out the orphanage with the assistance of some caretakers, she took a liking to York.
However, York didn't agree to it at the time. He rejected her at the time, but she promised that he'd agree once he saw her beautiful mansion. Still he denied her.
From then on, she'd come by every now and again to the orphanage and bring treats for York. Every time the caretakers would subtly jab at him to go with her when she left, but he kept rejecting the offer.
On the morning before his fifteenth birthday, he was told that she came again. He struck off another day on the calendar above his bed, with an excited feeling in his stomach that he'd be fifteen in only another day, and headed downstairs to greet Roselle.
She embraced him in a hug before giving him a bag of candy. They walked around the garden outside the orphanage, talking about how beautiful the current autumn season was. He didn't hate her, just felt as if there was always something off about the way she persisted in adopting him.
As they sat down on a bench in silence for a few moments, him now digging into the bag of candy she brought, she rasped to him in a tone of voice much older than the one that even she usually had, "Happy Birthday, York Pehri".
As York finished the last candy in the bag, his heart sunk. He had never told her it was his birthday tomorrow, and the caretakers weren't allowed to disclose information like that personally.
His vision began to blur, and before he knew it he collapsed, the last thing he saw being Roselle's hand moving towards his face.
When he awoke, he was in a decorated king-sized bed. Quickly he jumped to his feet, rushing out of the room. The first thing he saw as he opened the bedroom door was a vast, dark and empty mansion before him. Not even stopping to think about where he was, he rushed down the nearest flight of stairs towards the foyer to see a familiar old woman standing in the middle, blocking his exit through the front door.
"Going away so soon, young man?"
York didn't respond. He couldn't. For some reason, he wasn't able to speak. No voice came out, not even a grunt.
"The candy you ate has altered your body in some ways. One of those is temporarily muting you in case you knew some sort of magic, and the other... well, you'll see in time."
She turned and gestured towards the door behind her, which opened with a snap of her finger.
"You could stay here if you wish. I won't harm you, I've already gotten what I want. But you? You'll have trouble in the outside world now. This could be your paradise, York."
As York wasn't able to ask her so much as a single question, he sprinted right past her. Just as he was about to reach the door, it slammed in his face.
"Ah, know this. Leaving now would be seen as an act of hostility. Who knows if you'd tell this to anyone? If you leave now, I'll find you one day, boy. I'll find you and I'll take you back here. And when that happens, you will not be leaving again."
The door swung open again, and York didn't care. The chances of evading her were good, he felt. Without a single word, whether he liked it or not, he moved as fast as he could.
She knew where he lived however, so he couldn't go back to the orphanage. Not only would they not let him leave anyway, but if they found out anything they'd surely be killed to keep everything a secret.
As he turned back to look at his mortal enemy's mansion, he realized that there was no longer a mansion. Where there was, seconds ago, a structure, there was now nothing but trees and shrubbery.
As he set out, he got involved with many guilds, both dark and light, as a means of shelter. He began to interact with dark guilds more and more often however, as a means of perhaps learning how to counter any dark magic he feared Roselle might use on him one day. No luck however.
As he grew older, he realized he wasn't actually growing older. At first he thought it was just that his height had peaked at 15, but by the time he was 20 he knew something was off.
Despite being legal drinking age, no one believed him. This sadness propelled him into a rage. The suffering that Roselle spoke of had come to pass, and as a result York became acquainted with any gang or organization that would hire "a kid". During this time he even picked up the ability to summon shovels - his first ever magic.
The first time he ever killed a peasant using one of his shovels, he felt profound joy. As he dug the peasant's grave, his heart felt lighter, like a burden had been lifted. As a result, he decided that he'd focus his skills into a field that wouldn't get him arrested for murdering scum. Thus was his decision to join the Rune Knights, after explaining time and time again to various officials that he only looked 15, but was actually a cursed 26 year old. After going into vivid enough detail, and showing a righteous side with skill to back up his claims, he was allowed in as a Page.
Ever since he's been digging graves, researching his condition, and hoping to one day start aging again once he's found a working cure.
Reference: N/A
|
Home
Guild
Jewels
Rank
Class
Magic
Strength
Speed
Endurance
Intelligence
Mana
Epithet
Race
Experience
Weapon
Head
Body
