Psyre Dragnil Character Creation

Name: Psyre Dragnil

Age: 17
Gender: Male
Physical:
A few inches under six feet, Psyre is relatively large, but by no means imposing. Once, his black hair would have been carefully pulled back into a clean ponytail, but of late, his hair has been his last concern. He is lithe and thin -almost to the point of emaciation-, but his dark green eyes hint at the presence of a great knowledge and a greater passion.
Mental:
    Though quite intelligent, Psyre is somewhat troubled. His paranoia and phobias hinder his ability to interact with other people. He has a strong moral code and refuses to harm another unless he has no other choice, but suspects that anyone he meets means only to manipulate and use him.
Background:
    Psyre was born to the leader of a tribe within the Forest of Giants. They studied and revered runes above all else. Hunting was a means of survival, and parents did not provide for their children after the children turned 7. Psyre hunted by becoming a part of the forest, moving with the trees, not through them. He was the youngest member of his tribe to fell a bear, winning him recognition and a mark of distinction: a single stripe of the bear's pelt on his robe.

    He lived as a distinguished hunter and philosopher within his clan for several years, but one day, he met a strange man. The man came from the East, or so he said, and taught Psyre many things. His skill with sword and bow were beyond anything Psyre had ever seen. The man said he had lived a life of bloodshed and was tired of his old way of life. He pleaded Psyre to teach him about the forest and his people, that he might live a life in harmony with them and the forest. Psyre believed redemption to be the most important thing for a person to seek, and here was a man looking to atone for his wrongs with a life of peace. Psyre gladly agreed.

    Over the next year, Psyre taught the man how to track and hunt, how to forage and come to know the forest, and, most importantly, how to think like a member of a clan rather than a singular individual. In return, the warrior trained Psyre with a variety of weapons and bestowed upon him some gear that he said he would no longer need. The man gave his name (Zanthro, he said) and said that he wanted to meet Psyre's tribe and become a member if such were at all possible. Psyre happily agreed. Though he had already proven himself to be one of the most remarkable members of the tribe, Psyre had yet to complete his coming of age ceremony. When he turned 17, he was pitted against his tribe's leader (who just so happened to be his mother) in three venues: a hunt, physical combat, and debate. He lost the hunt, bringing back less than half of what his esteemed leader found. In the combat, his training with Zanthro paid off. His leader was fast and strong, but his technique allowed him to hold her off with relative ease. Every time he tried to strike, however, she was gone before he came near her. After four hours, the staffs with which they were fighting had splintered and fallen apart. They fought with their fists alone for the next four. Finally, after eight hours with no fighter having landed a significant blow, the combat was declared a draw.

    The debate was Psyre's chance. He had to win. If he did so, he would both become a full-fledged member of the tribe and perhaps allow Zanthro to begin the life for which he was searching. He sat down cross-legged across from the clan leader. "Well, have you chosen your topic?" This question was essential. If one had not, the tribe would select an issue that had recently arisen and they would debate how to properly handle it. If one had, one would state the topic. Posing a new topic was rarely done, as the tribe's doctrine had been constant for more than a century. Psyre fought to control his breathing. In. Out. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his racing heart.

    "Yes. I have chosen a topic." His eyes were still closed, but he could hear the collective gasp and feel the shock and suspense in the air.

    "Very well, what is it?"

    "The tribe's practice of isolation. I posit that allowing others to join us in order to move away from the vices of war and destruction that seem so common in those who live places other than here." He had not yet opened his eyes, but he could feel his leader's glare. His mother's glare. He steeled himself and his eyes snapped open. "Tribe leader, we concern ourselves always with the needs of others, not only the individual. That is the principle on which this tribe is built. And yet, around us, hundreds die to such things as war and feuds. Things to which we have an answer. We can help the world, not only ourselves. And I believe we have a responsibility to do so."

    After hours of intense debate, the tribe concluded that Psyre was victorious. He was presented with his ceremonial staff and cloak (because his victory lay in the debate, he was a philosopher in the clan, not a hunter or fighter). His thoughts, however, lay elsewhere. His victory meant that his first act as a member of the tribe could be to bring to the tribe the idea of allowing Zanthro to join. As the final ceremony, he was asked to bring his first issue to the tribe. He stood tall and strong. He looked around for a brief moment at the faces of all the members of his tribe. And then he spoke. "We have agreed that others may join us. I have found one who seeks a reprieve from the evil of the outside world. I now present to you the first man I think should join us." Zanthro gracefully bounded down from his place in a tree, landing beside Psyre. Zanthro's hair was pulled back into a neat bun. He looked around for a moment and then looked at Psyre. Psyre nodded.

    "For all of my life, I followed my emperor without question. One day, he had me fight for him in an arena. The man I was to fight was my brother. I could not believe that I would be made to do such-"

    "GET OUT!" Psyre heard his mother's shout and turned to see her standing there with a bow in her hands, its arrow aimed at Zanthro's heart. "I know what you have done, devil, now begone."

    "Ah. Darn. I'd hoped to make this easier for all of us." Zanthro suddenly grabbed Psyre and used him as cover. Then, he began to chant. Fire began licking up around his entire body, burning Psyre but leaving him unscathed. Psyre's mother also began to chant, and her eyes emitted a brilliant blue light.

    "I SAID BEGONE. YOU ARE  NOT WELCOME IN THE LAND OF THE RUNES. YOUR VERY PRESENCE THREATENS TO CORRUPT IT." The voice was not Psyre's mother's. It was deep but melodic, smooth but terrifying. Zanthro just smiled and threw Psyre to the ground. Without any warning, the two were locked in a fight. Each tried to use a weapon, but Zanthro's sword broke on Psyre's mother's skin, and her arrows burned to ash before they reached him. The two fought, levelling anything in their way. The forest began to burn around them. As the trees went up in flames, Psyre saw his mother's arms begin to burn. And then her legs. And her face. She shrieked in pain, and a brilliant blue sphere exploded outward from her. Where it touched the trees, the fires stopped. When it touched Zanthro, it threw him high into the sky. When it touched the members of the tribe, they turned to stone. Terrified, Psyre could not move. The blast raced toward him, turning the chaos it touched into something too serene and tranquil to be recognizable. Then the blast hit him. And nothing happened. He looked around, dumbfounded, for some explanation. None appeared. He ran to where he had seen his mother, but when he got there, she was dead. Her eyes were gone, and the sockets looked to be seared with impossibly hot fire. Her body, however, was already frigid. Far colder than anything around it.

    Psyre was not joyous to be alive. Everyone he had ever known or loved was dead. And it was all because he had trusted one person. People could not be trusted. With tears streaming down his face, he ran from the forest. From his home. From his massacre.
Category: Scholar
Class: Ranger

Starting Attributes:
-Strength: 14
-Dexterity: 20
-Health: 20
-Memory: 26
-Patience: 28
-Endurance: 20
-Craft: 22

Homeland: The North

Approved. Still pending one more Admin's approval, though.

For character's, only one approval is needed. So, already approved, welcome to the site.

Okay, great! And we had briefly talked about perhaps 10 attribute points to be awarded because of backstory, so I'd like to request those as follows:
Strength: +0 (14)
Dex: +2 (20)
Health: +2 (20)
Memory: +0 (26)
Patience:+4 (28)
Endurance: +2 (20)
Craft: +0 (22)

If that's unacceptable for any reason, just let me know, and I'll edit accordingly.

Thanks!

Naw, that's good. Approved.