Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

Basic Info
Race/Sex: Earthsoul (Earth Genasi), Male
Age: Unknown - Appears to be a young adult
Deity: None to start
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral to start
Class Setup: Fighter/Weapon Master/Frenzied Berserker/Whirling Dervish
Weapon of Choice: Falchion
Height: Nearly six and a half feet
Weight: Closing on 300lbs due to elemental features
Build: Muscular, Broad shouldered, Hulking
Hair: Obsidian Shards growing from the top of his scalp, clusters of smaller Amethyst-like crystals beginning at the neckline and fading to black just above his ears
Eyes: Gemstones - Amethyst (Deep Purple and Clear)

Skin: Nearly ebony, with even darker flecks throughout. The flecks themselves have a metallic sheen, like darkly glittering freckles that give him a marbled appearance.

Personality Info
Demeanor: Abrasive, Untrusting
Speech: Gravelly and deep
Mannerisms: Slow and deliberate in actions, Patient, Ferocious once angrered
Habbits: Collection of gemstones, grunting when annoyed, grinding teeth during thought
General Misc
Einar is slow to anger but slower to trust. He most often hides his face and head from the world were possible, though not because he is ashamed. He is proud of his blood, but smart enough to know how racial rarities like himself are often treated by the population in general. Once his trust is gained, he is a fiercely loyal friend and comrade, often willing to put his life on the line for those he grows such a bond with. His word is a sacred bond to him, but not so sacred as his wish to remain alive and free..

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Chapter 1: Awakening

The dirt and stone of the cave was cool against the Earthsoul's marbled flesh as he woke. He didn't know where he was, but all he could hear besides his own ragged breathing was the faint sound of wind somewhere far off behind him. It was black as pitch. Were his eyes open? He blinked once, then again. They were, but there was no light. Slowly, the giant man's vision began to focus. His elemental blood had advantages, one of them being unnaturally good sight in the dark. The first thing he saw was a stone-like hand, inches before his face. He could feel his breath against his fingers, and he knew this hand to be his own.. though he did not recognize it. As his mind cleared and his eyes gained greater focus, he managed to push himself to his knees. He felt weak... no that wasn't it. Groggy... like a man freshly waking from a drunken slumber. Even as his vision cleared, it swam. His stomach turned as he grew dizzy, and he wretched. The smell of bile was strong, and only now with its arrival did he realize the scent it replaced - blood. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, quieting his breathing as his vision settled. There was something.. no, someone, slumped against the far wall. He moved closer, and the scent of blood grew stronger.

The man was dressed in black robes, with deep purple runes decorating the tacky gold hems. His hood had fallen low over his face, and his bloodied hand lay outstretched beside him, forever reaching for the open book that lay just out of its reach. It was clear his man was dead. Looking at the book, Einar realized it was a spellbook of some sort. The book's exposed pages were stained with blood spatters and dirt. Kneeling beside the dead man, the Earthsoul reached out and pulled back his hood. Long black hair, soaked and dripping with sweat and rainwater, covered his face as his head sagged in death. He reached out a stony finger and pushed the pale corpse's head back to the wall for a better view. His mouth hung open in a silent scream, his eyes wide with extinguished fear staring lifelessly back at the Marbled Genasi. Something about him was familiar... what was it? He saw his own reflection dimly staring back at him in the glossy dead eyes of the pale man.

He gasped.

He didn't recognize the dark-flecked stony face staring back at him through those eyes. Who was he? What was his name? He truly had... No idea.


Chapter 2: A Glimpse of the Past

He'd gathered what he could from the Cave. An old curved blade as long as some men are tall, a weathered but well made cloak of mostly black. A battered and worn set of plate, painted black. A journal he had found tucked in a hidden pocket inside the dead man's dark robes, and a few provisions worth keeping. The armor and cloak fit too well.. it wasn't coincidence. These items had been his, even though he felt as if he hadn't seen them before. Hood pulled over his head, he had made his way outside. Nearby, there was some woodlands. He thought he heard a wagon passing in the distance, and hoping for find a path or a road, he moved towards it. It wasn't long before he realized the extent of his exhaustion. He settled under a tree for the night, managing to get a small fire started with some flint and steel he'd taken from the cave. He kept the fire small so as not to light the tree afire, and pulled out the well worn old journal he had found on the dead man.

To his surprise, the book was written in several languages. He guessed that the more important entries were penned in more exclusive tongues to prevent the man's secrets from being known. Even more of a surprise though, was that he recognized a handful of the languages. He couldn't recall their names, but he could read them. He found an entry near the middle of the book, penned in a hellish looking language. It told of a "Stone-Skinned" man with gems for eyes, and Einar knew it to be him. It gave no name he recognized, but intead referred to him only as "Rock". He grew angry as he read the passage, which spanned a couple pages. According to the entry, he had been a cheap alternative to a golem for this mage. It was clear this man was a Wizard of some sort now, and he was rather proud of himself for having stumbled upon such a brilliant solution to his need for a strong servant without freewill. It went on to say the man had spelled "Rock" with a powerful combination of domination spells that left the subject without will. He had been a slave.

A side effect, perhaps blessedly so, of the dark magics seemed to be that the victim would not be able to remember his time under the spell. At least not easily. He found another passage, deeper in the book, that spoke of an incident involving him. It said that the mage had been unable to procure the ingredients for one of the spells, and as a result he had awoken from the charms. He had apparently gone mad with rage, before finally he was subdued again with more magics. The book said nothing more - that he could read anyways - on the matter, and so he threw the thing into his fire in disgust. He sat in silence, arms folded angrily across his rock-like chest as stared through the flames, watching the book be consumed by them. As the fire waned, he fell into slumber..

He dreamed that night, of the cave and his waking moments there. He relived it.. but this time, when looking into the dead man's eyes, something happened. Suddenly he gasped and jerked awake as the world twisted and turned around him. He was in the cave again, but there was light now. There was speaking... but it was garbled. His voice... enraged and shouting, he could feel his own seething rage towards the man in front of him. The man's expression was a mixture of terror and outrage as his trembling hands shuffled the pages of his book. There was another voice, beside him. It hissed and sounded threatening, and the mage's eyes looked behind Einar. He tried to turn and see.. only then realizing he was not in control. He was seeing the past.. There was a shuffling of feet, a blur of motion and a flash of steel. He saw his own hands on the hilt of the blade he knew was resting beside him by the fire outside. Blood coated the curved, wicked end of it. The mage stumbled back and hit the wall, slumping to the ground as his rasped a final time and his last breath escaped his lungs. He watched the blood drip from his Falchion, landing on the spellbook's exposed pages beside the dead wizard.

Then it was over.

As suddenly as it had began, it was gone. He was back by the embers of his campfire again, sweating and breathing heavily. He wiped his brow with the back of his leather wrapped hand. It was... muddy. He was sweating a mud-like substance.. or rather, his sweat was muddying the fine layer of dirt that seemed to perpetually coat his flesh. He was surprised at first.. but then it seemed oddly natural. He steadied himself. What had he just seen? It was a memory, though brief and confusing.

The sun was rising, and with it the Earthsoul. He found the road, and headed south.


Chapter 3: Mercenary

He needed a name. He'd seen nobody along the road since he found it, and it had been days. He kept to wood's edge where he could, hoping to avoid bandits and worse. Along the way, he'd become keenly aware of the fact that he had no idea who he was. He realized he did in fact know what he was, a being born of the blood of an earth elemental. The book's hints had perhaps caused him to recall this fact, or perhaps it was seeing his own reflection in the mage's dead eyes? Either way, he knew. The name of a slave would not do, for he detested what he had read of his days as one. He grew angry just thinking over it, and his flashback had left him seething for hours after it had faded. He would never be a slave again, so as far as he was concerned "Rock" was dead.

He first thought to call himself Amethystos. It was an old term for Amethyst, an origin word he thought, from a language he could not name. It wouldn't do though, he had realized grudgingly. With some further consideration the name "Einar" became firm in his mind. He knew not what language or region had spawned the name, only that it had meaning. The name meant "Lone Warrior" or perhaps "One Warrior" depending on interpretation. It suited him. He knew somehow that he was somewhat talented with the blade. He knew in his bones he could fight, and that he would enjoy the thrill of it. He decided to take up the name Einar Amethystos, a name that if interpreted plainly could mean "The Lone Amethyst Warrior" perhaps. It was perfect.

He settled on focusing his efforts on perfecting the use of his chosen blade. He would master it, to give focus to the deep burning rage at having been a powerless slave. He would make a name for himself, and the best way he could figure to go about it was to take jobs as a swordsman. He hoped there would be jobs a plenty for a mercenary along the coast ahead.

It was not long before he found his first job - as a caravan guard. He had happened upon a caravan, and after declaring he was no bandit, had offered his service in protection. They couldn't pay much, but offered food and water and safety in numbers for the trip ahead. It was good enough for him, and so they headed to Baldur's Gate together. It felt good to do something productive, to make a choice and act on it himself.

So it was that Einar Amethystos came to the Sword Coast, and began his journey as a free man along the road to Baldur's Gate.

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Possible Plot Hook Ideas:
-> Einar's past is largely a mystery to him. I will update this with further flashbacks etc, but it is likely that people from his past could show up. Perhaps even associates of his former master...
-> Anything relating to slavery. Einar hates the idea of slavery, and would see it ended when he is able to.
-> Godless - Einar has no faith to start. I am very open to him being swayed to a religion through RP
-> Alignment - He begins life as CN - a free spirit living life for himself only. I am open to his swaying towards good or evil, or even away from Chaos. It is likely that he will never be Lawful, as he knows some laws support slavery. He in fact even view laws as a path to slavery in varying degrees.

Goals:
-> To make a name for himself as a free man
-> To find a true calling outside his immediate desire to master his blade
-> To discover more about his past
-> To seek vengeance against those like his old master

Reviewed and rewarded.