WIP
Phalynce was born to the chief of a tribe of elves in the southern Dalvovean jungles. There he learned to hunt, gather, and fight. He had no need to learn about histories or grammar. He became an adept hunter and a decent gatherer, but fighting is what he loved to do. He loved to get into fights to prove his strength. On his coming of age ceremony, his father passed on the family heirloom. A simple crowbar. A token of remembrance of things that were and things that could be. Phalynce only saw in it the potential weapon. Some things were necessary to learn however. the traditions of the tribe and family. The views of his father became his views. One view in particular he held onto. Farishtaas were nothing but walking flesh. They possess no souls and are cursed in the eyes of Phalynce. The ritual that causes the change is an evil ceremony in which they rip your soul out and shove it into another body.
Some years later a band of marauders came and took several of the tribe including his father and mother. He did his best to fight but was wounded in the battle that ensued. He lost some of his stomach, his pride, and his family. He swore revenge and sought to become even stronger. Ripping trees from the ground only went so far as to condition him. He needed more. He traveled to the city of Maralla to learn fighting techniques and become a fist for hire.
He became a mercenary of the local Merc Hall and rose quickly up the ranks. He made enemies in those days. Always trying to prove you are best does that. His enemies grew close while he grew far. He became secluded and distant while taking increasingly difficult jobs. One day he went too far and made a mistake that would cost him dearly. He lost his intelligence and his memories. He was a walking brute now. Worse than those he had despised. He lost favor with his company for his reckless acts and was abandoned. Knowing only how to fight and hunt, he went in for the solo mercenary work. That is when he met Kova.
While working for Kova he became acquainted with a fellow elf who invited him into the Ashen Angels splinter group. Once he joined, he learned the horrors of the transformation once again, and his hate grew more. He did everything he could to disrupt the farishtaa regime, from attacking supply depots to attacking airships. Though he has now left the group, he still bares the markings and continues to do everything he can to help.
Phalynce stands about six feet five inches and weighs in at around two hundred and thirty pounds.
His skin is a deep blue/purple with black hair cut into a mohawk that shows a scar along the right side of his head.
His eyes are the shade of dull grey. No longer bright as they used to be in his youth.
He has long arms that almost reach to the ground and hunched shoulders that add to the effect of looking like a primate.
When he learned what Girazza had done to make the farishtaas, he despised him, that is until he heard what happened later on. He now regards him with admiration and wants to meet him one day.
Phalynce is a tank brawler. Dimwitted due to his injury and very kind. He will go out of his way to help someone who is down or to get into a fight. Fighting is what he does best. If a fight breaks out he will join in just for the fun.
Phalynce is unquestioningly loyal o those he cares for.
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Thu Mar 26, 2015 2:09 am by 
Subject: Phalynce - Undecided 
