Overview:
A man who appeared in the world out of nowhere, Cyrus (as he is called), is a person of complete mystery. Promptly following the disappearance of Tyr the Unbroken, Cyrus, or C, made an appearance in the world. Whether or not the disappearance of Tyr is significant to this occurrence remains under speculation by many. Despite his human birthright he walks with the essence of kings trailing behind him. Nothing about this man is for certain, and rumors of speculation constantly circle about his true identity and upbringing. His relationship with Osmund Yggdrasil stands out to be among the oddest of things about him. The two have met several times on the battlefields vested in Migard, and always possessed an undisclosed spark between one another. Almost like a friendship, but with something greater barring the gap. Cyrus’s last notable appearance was leaving with Osmund to a more private location. Rumors hold strong that Cyrus lost his life during that meeting, as he has never been officially seen again. However, as of late, a couple select reports have spotted a hooded, one armed man exiting the realm of Midgard; heading straight to Jotunnheim. This appearance has been written off as insignificant, although each report has a single connecting statement: The air within his presence was always colder, and darker.
Appearance:
Cyrus was a relatively robust individual, for a human that is. He is 6’4, with a sturdy build on his upper body. He is clearly battle tested, as most of his visible skin is covered over with scars. As a result, his physical toughness is something inhuman. The entire left side of his upper body is scarred over as a result of the existential forces that scorched and tore his arm from his body once in his life. There is an eclipsing moon that is tattooed in black and white that spans the entire expanse of his wide back. His right arm is a prosthetic made of an impossibly black metal alloy. The metal has been engraved with strange symbols and patterns, as well as having been encrusted with a divine stave’s crystal at the center of its palm. Cyrus’s left eye is blank and scarred, the origins of this wound remain unknown but it has left the eye effectively unusable. His short white hair is always cut and kept precisely. Faded on the sides, and brushed through at the top, giving him a slightly more professional look. Cyrus typically keeps his facial hair kempt, but as of recently he has grown out a small beard. Perhaps due to his lack of need to facilitate his appearance anymore.
Personality:
There is not much to be noted about Cyrus’s personality. That is because there isn’t much he leaves to speculation. He is entirely upfront about his desires and thoughts. Blunt through and through, purely because he has no interest in beating around the bush. He does not care what others think and he lets that be known. Cyrus is a man of efficiency and pure will. When he has a goal, he sets out to accomplish it, regardless of what the costs might be. He has proven this mantra to be true on several different occasions. Calculated to every point, he is always in control of his situation. Although he prefers not to speak, and will only do so if it benefits him, he is always observing and taking in the surrounding environment. While he has no apparent regard for himself, it has been noted that he deeply cares for those who he might consider friends. Granted, he will never admit his loyalties, it is quite obvious who they belong to as he will sacrifice anything in his possession (including himself) to keep them safe. However, often times his true objective does not follow a pattern. One would be mistaken to believe they are safe behind his cloak.
Abilities:
-Energy Color: Emerald green, presently black due to how saturated it is.
Not much is known about Cyrus’s abilities. Being a Saga of silver, it is presumed that he has invested some time into developing magic, as well as Seidr. His presence is documented in a variety of forms. Some have felt, tasted, the deepest appeal of death leaking from beneath his reaper-black cloak. Others have felt inspiration, a burning heat of courage around him that is nothing but contagious. Most describe his presence to be nothing. Almost eerily, there is a lot of reports of quite literally no traceable presence. The only consistently noted experience is that the space about him is consistently darker than the rest of the area. This effect has been seen in both broad daylight, and candle-lit rooms alike.
Additional witnesses have reported that Cyrus has a mastery in Hand to Hand combat like no other combatant. Despite his handicap of only having one arm, people have pointed out that it often times appears as if he has three or four arms at once. It is believed that this is due to his sheer speed and concentration from only having to move one arm. Among other things he is also highly conscious in the arts of assassination. He moves with a quickness that takes even the fastest by surprise. Not because of the speed, but because of his ability to preemptively adjust himself prior to defending or attacking. His arm also possesses a mysterious ability, as on occasion it has been described as “deleting” energy upon its contact. Whether or not these allegations are true remain unresolved.
-Seidr Mastery
-Third Heiko (Null)
-Rune Mastery
-All Planes (Physical, Astral, Buddhaic, Twilight, Ergo)
-Unlocked Osaett Heiko
-Final Stage Vaerne
-Master King Jotunn (Vanir, Aesir, Taboo)
Possesions/Iron Thane Weapons: Crystal Staff, Òttalaus, Wyrdspire
Jarngrim: Ymir, Loki
Gjallarhorn(s): Ananke, (Second TBD)
A man who appeared in the world out of nowhere, Cyrus (as he is called), is a person of complete mystery. Promptly following the disappearance of Tyr the Unbroken, Cyrus, or C, made an appearance in the world. Whether or not the disappearance of Tyr is significant to this occurrence remains under speculation by many. Despite his human birthright he walks with the essence of kings trailing behind him. Nothing about this man is for certain, and rumors of speculation constantly circle about his true identity and upbringing. His relationship with Osmund Yggdrasil stands out to be among the oddest of things about him. The two have met several times on the battlefields vested in Migard, and always possessed an undisclosed spark between one another. Almost like a friendship, but with something greater barring the gap. Cyrus’s last notable appearance was leaving with Osmund to a more private location. Rumors hold strong that Cyrus lost his life during that meeting, as he has never been officially seen again. However, as of late, a couple select reports have spotted a hooded, one armed man exiting the realm of Midgard; heading straight to Jotunnheim. This appearance has been written off as insignificant, although each report has a single connecting statement: The air within his presence was always colder, and darker.
Appearance:
Cyrus was a relatively robust individual, for a human that is. He is 6’4, with a sturdy build on his upper body. He is clearly battle tested, as most of his visible skin is covered over with scars. As a result, his physical toughness is something inhuman. The entire left side of his upper body is scarred over as a result of the existential forces that scorched and tore his arm from his body once in his life. There is an eclipsing moon that is tattooed in black and white that spans the entire expanse of his wide back. His right arm is a prosthetic made of an impossibly black metal alloy. The metal has been engraved with strange symbols and patterns, as well as having been encrusted with a divine stave’s crystal at the center of its palm. Cyrus’s left eye is blank and scarred, the origins of this wound remain unknown but it has left the eye effectively unusable. His short white hair is always cut and kept precisely. Faded on the sides, and brushed through at the top, giving him a slightly more professional look. Cyrus typically keeps his facial hair kempt, but as of recently he has grown out a small beard. Perhaps due to his lack of need to facilitate his appearance anymore.
Personality:
There is not much to be noted about Cyrus’s personality. That is because there isn’t much he leaves to speculation. He is entirely upfront about his desires and thoughts. Blunt through and through, purely because he has no interest in beating around the bush. He does not care what others think and he lets that be known. Cyrus is a man of efficiency and pure will. When he has a goal, he sets out to accomplish it, regardless of what the costs might be. He has proven this mantra to be true on several different occasions. Calculated to every point, he is always in control of his situation. Although he prefers not to speak, and will only do so if it benefits him, he is always observing and taking in the surrounding environment. While he has no apparent regard for himself, it has been noted that he deeply cares for those who he might consider friends. Granted, he will never admit his loyalties, it is quite obvious who they belong to as he will sacrifice anything in his possession (including himself) to keep them safe. However, often times his true objective does not follow a pattern. One would be mistaken to believe they are safe behind his cloak.
Abilities:
-Energy Color: Emerald green, presently black due to how saturated it is.
Not much is known about Cyrus’s abilities. Being a Saga of silver, it is presumed that he has invested some time into developing magic, as well as Seidr. His presence is documented in a variety of forms. Some have felt, tasted, the deepest appeal of death leaking from beneath his reaper-black cloak. Others have felt inspiration, a burning heat of courage around him that is nothing but contagious. Most describe his presence to be nothing. Almost eerily, there is a lot of reports of quite literally no traceable presence. The only consistently noted experience is that the space about him is consistently darker than the rest of the area. This effect has been seen in both broad daylight, and candle-lit rooms alike.
Additional witnesses have reported that Cyrus has a mastery in Hand to Hand combat like no other combatant. Despite his handicap of only having one arm, people have pointed out that it often times appears as if he has three or four arms at once. It is believed that this is due to his sheer speed and concentration from only having to move one arm. Among other things he is also highly conscious in the arts of assassination. He moves with a quickness that takes even the fastest by surprise. Not because of the speed, but because of his ability to preemptively adjust himself prior to defending or attacking. His arm also possesses a mysterious ability, as on occasion it has been described as “deleting” energy upon its contact. Whether or not these allegations are true remain unresolved.
-Seidr Mastery
-Third Heiko (Null)
-Rune Mastery
-All Planes (Physical, Astral, Buddhaic, Twilight, Ergo)
-Unlocked Osaett Heiko
-Final Stage Vaerne
-Master King Jotunn (Vanir, Aesir, Taboo)
Possesions/Iron Thane Weapons: Crystal Staff, Òttalaus, Wyrdspire
Jarngrim: Ymir, Loki
Gjallarhorn(s): Ananke, (Second TBD)
Quotes:
- "Every man is born with a destiny. It is simply up to them whether or not that destiny is made to control them, or they're made to control it"
- "My name . . . My name is . . . No, my name is taboo. It is a curse. A man like me doesn't deserve to be addressed so naturally." - Cyrus's response to an assailant, delivered with a sinister smile.
- "You ask me for my name? I will not tell you. Shadows do not have names. However, all of your heroes do. And all of your heroes have shadows, too." - When questioned for his name, before taking the asker's life.
- "Every man is born with a destiny. It is simply up to them whether or not that destiny is made to control them, or they're made to control it"
- "My name . . . My name is . . . No, my name is taboo. It is a curse. A man like me doesn't deserve to be addressed so naturally." - Cyrus's response to an assailant, delivered with a sinister smile.
- "You ask me for my name? I will not tell you. Shadows do not have names. However, all of your heroes do. And all of your heroes have shadows, too." - When questioned for his name, before taking the asker's life.
Tales of The Seeker
Meeting the Norns; A Matter of Destiny
They chattered like school children, but their gossip was of the universe. This was my first impression of them when I found myself at the footholds of the World Tree. However, as I made my way down their voices slowly trailed off. It sounded like they were confused. When I reached the well they stood still, watching me with unblinking eyes. Creepy. I took my time to glance around before speaking. The disadvantages of having one eye were making themselves known. The Ley Lines within this place were different. Resembling more of a tangle of webs, I fought for an explanation as to how any sort of magic got done down here. Then I went to speak but she, the old decrepit Jotunn who stood the first among the three, silenced me with her own voice. Words that leaked so much magic it felt like an incantation.
"You were an odd one!" Chimed Urd, and before I could offer my own it was Verdandi who corresponded almost in song.
"Yes. We have no idea you are coming,". Skuld scooped the sentence up to finish it for her, saying:
"Which will be odd . . . because that means we will not write you . . ."
"And we wrote everything!" said Urd. Verdandi rang after.
"Or so we think. Clearly we have not".
There was a short pause, and once again, before I could mutter my part they began to mumble and sing. Far faster than last time. I then decided to leave it be and listen to their words entirely, as it was obvious they were hardly even paying mind to me.
"However, we will write of an impossibility . . . And this certainly will be that". Hearing Skuld speak as if confused only made me worry more. It was Urd who adopted the rhythm and it persisted until the conversation's finale.
"The impossibility we had written? Hmm . . . Yes, a blank space was amongst the carvings of fate".
"A blank space of entirely intentional impossibility. You are that".
"Yes, you will be a man that will not be bound to a destiny".
"And that is how we wrote you . . . You possessed something special about you".
"We are blind to write you. For if an artist, much like a painter cannot see, then they cannot risk their penmanship".
"To have to write something you cannot see, you shall smudge the lines and things will become more unclear".
"It would be a risk to write of you! You would understand?". I did not bother to respond, Verdandi was next.
"He understands. This is a smart man . . . He has come for something. What?"
"How will a writer know what to give his character if they shall not write him?"
"I would know the answer!"
"Yes. You give him the pen".
"Ah, what can write will write itself. For that is going to be impossible".
"And he will be impossible".
"He is impossible".
"Aye, he shall be impossible".
They all nodded as if they had just agreed with once another, and then rang all at once in a voice that broke small runic carvings into the wall of the Ash Tree's base which held their mural.
"Wyrdspire . . ."
"You will travel and Mímisbrunnr shall be your objective".
"It is there you have found your purpose. What you have been doing".
"What you must sacrifice, we wonder . . ?"
"A man who will not speak his name"
"Is man who has not spoke his name,"
"Is a man who cannot speak".
"Yes. That is going to be his price".
"That has been a steep price,"
"But it is a price necessary for the future".
"We will wish you luck, for the sake of the many".
"You had our blessing, Seeker,"
"And you have it again".
"Now you will take this and go. You will master yourself, and craft a weapon of blazing courage".
"You had paid your price, as well".
"Be gone, human of impossibility". Verdandi's nail scratched the Yggdrasil deep, deep into its bark so full of life. She drew out a carving, a small and simple one. It was a meeting. A meeting of the Norns, who spoke to nothing. A blank space that they projected their conversation onto. Urd and Skuld took the carvings, and after melding them within the waters of the well behind them, they presented it to me. It was a staff of the most immaculate, twisted wood. It glistened in what little light was present, but not with beauty. With possibility. I bowed and left. I understood my task, despite never having spoken. I got the eerie feeling that was exactly what they had intended, as well.
"You were an odd one!" Chimed Urd, and before I could offer my own it was Verdandi who corresponded almost in song.
"Yes. We have no idea you are coming,". Skuld scooped the sentence up to finish it for her, saying:
"Which will be odd . . . because that means we will not write you . . ."
"And we wrote everything!" said Urd. Verdandi rang after.
"Or so we think. Clearly we have not".
There was a short pause, and once again, before I could mutter my part they began to mumble and sing. Far faster than last time. I then decided to leave it be and listen to their words entirely, as it was obvious they were hardly even paying mind to me.
"However, we will write of an impossibility . . . And this certainly will be that". Hearing Skuld speak as if confused only made me worry more. It was Urd who adopted the rhythm and it persisted until the conversation's finale.
"The impossibility we had written? Hmm . . . Yes, a blank space was amongst the carvings of fate".
"A blank space of entirely intentional impossibility. You are that".
"Yes, you will be a man that will not be bound to a destiny".
"And that is how we wrote you . . . You possessed something special about you".
"We are blind to write you. For if an artist, much like a painter cannot see, then they cannot risk their penmanship".
"To have to write something you cannot see, you shall smudge the lines and things will become more unclear".
"It would be a risk to write of you! You would understand?". I did not bother to respond, Verdandi was next.
"He understands. This is a smart man . . . He has come for something. What?"
"How will a writer know what to give his character if they shall not write him?"
"I would know the answer!"
"Yes. You give him the pen".
"Ah, what can write will write itself. For that is going to be impossible".
"And he will be impossible".
"He is impossible".
"Aye, he shall be impossible".
They all nodded as if they had just agreed with once another, and then rang all at once in a voice that broke small runic carvings into the wall of the Ash Tree's base which held their mural.
"Wyrdspire . . ."
"You will travel and Mímisbrunnr shall be your objective".
"It is there you have found your purpose. What you have been doing".
"What you must sacrifice, we wonder . . ?"
"A man who will not speak his name"
"Is man who has not spoke his name,"
"Is a man who cannot speak".
"Yes. That is going to be his price".
"That has been a steep price,"
"But it is a price necessary for the future".
"We will wish you luck, for the sake of the many".
"You had our blessing, Seeker,"
"And you have it again".
"Now you will take this and go. You will master yourself, and craft a weapon of blazing courage".
"You had paid your price, as well".
"Be gone, human of impossibility". Verdandi's nail scratched the Yggdrasil deep, deep into its bark so full of life. She drew out a carving, a small and simple one. It was a meeting. A meeting of the Norns, who spoke to nothing. A blank space that they projected their conversation onto. Urd and Skuld took the carvings, and after melding them within the waters of the well behind them, they presented it to me. It was a staff of the most immaculate, twisted wood. It glistened in what little light was present, but not with beauty. With possibility. I bowed and left. I understood my task, despite never having spoken. I got the eerie feeling that was exactly what they had intended, as well.