|AGE||19||DATE OF BIRTH:||DD MM 1499|
|TOUGHNESS||11||Spell casting||2||Melee Weapons||2|
|Spell Matrix||1||Wilderness Survival||1|
|Spell Matrix [FREE]||1|
|Spell Matrix [FREE]||1|
|LANGUAGES||Dwarf (R/W & S)||1 + 1|
|Human (S)||1||Artisan: Ra’Koli Sand Art||1|
|Elven (R/W & S)||1 + 1||Knowledge: Military History||2|
UPBRINGING AND CAREER
He is the second child to a well-off Urupan Merchant family. He wasn’t overly interested in the mercantile aspects of life, but his older Sister is damn good at it. With that in mind his father sent him to the military academy early, to learn “the other” worthwhile occupation and become a Soldier. Or better yet, if the passions will it, a warrior adept.
Considerably more interested in that, Kor’Milan learned with enthusiasm and really tried his best. Sadly, as the years passed it became clear that he just didn’t have the physical condition to become good at soldiering. No matter how hard he pushed himself. No matter the amount of extra training he inflicted on himself. He was just to tall, slim and frail in comparison to his comrades. His mind was as sharp as the best sword in the barracks, and he picked up on tactics, strategy and military history quite well. So despite his lacklustre physical performance they kept him around. Some teachers even had plans (unbeknown to Kor’Milan) to get him into an officer’s career.
Then one day during training, Brah-Tolkor, a friend and comrade was sparring with him. After a witty remark on Kor’Milan’s part, Brah got… a little overzealous in his following attack. Kor’Milan tried to block the high blow routinely, but the force of the strike just slammed his own sword out of his hand, and the Ork’s heavy blade struck the side of his head, breaking his skull and knocking him out cold.
THE LONGEST DREAM
The time following was what he now calls his weeks of dreaming. While the Garlen Questors fought to keep him alive, he had the wildest, most unpleasant dreams. Perpetual drowning in the Aras Sea, being thrown around in the currents like a toy. Standing right in Tovar’s Pyre, sharing his fate of being burned forever. Falling through endless clouds, freezing and finding no grasp. Being stuck in immortal vines and brambles like a fawn, unable to move and feeling them suffocate the life out of him. Being surrounded by solid, light granite, that had been there for eternity and would be even longer.
He suffered from all this for what felt like immeasurable amount of years to him. But over time, he learned to make a mark on his dreams. To feel the currents that were about to throw him around. To enjoy the burning heat of the pyre, despite it still burning him. To dive into the clouds like a hawk and feel the refreshing chill. To pick the berries from the brambles even as they were choking him. To feel the rock’s grasp and be as protected as he was entrapped.
Even later, the Elements of his dreams began to listen to him. The wind carried him to the cloud he desired to dive through. The flames lashed out in beautiful patterns on his behest. The brambles eased off him and gave him even tastier fruits that he could enjoy. The sea would let him rush the way he wished to, let him surf on top. The rock would slowly, and steadily make way for him, reluctantly shaping itself into stairs and pathways to let him go where he desired.
It came a time when he enjoyed the friendship of the elements and directed their flow with a thought, with a flick of his wrist, commanded them altogether in intricate, beautiful patterns that filled him with joy and pride. Until, one moment in time, they all formed into friendly faces that told him it was time to go, and then all of a sudden dissolved to make room for another friendly face. The face of Questor Marmilia, who had taken care of him for weeks now, and finally made contact to his mind, rather than just his body.
CHANGE OF PLANS
Finally, after the long Dream he just knew his calling. Before even being able to stand on his feet, he sent a letter to the Urupan academy, asking to receive the formal training to become an Elementalist. Not forgetting his time as a fledgling soldier, though.
Brha-Tolk is still friends with him and the orcs family gifted him with Ghan-Brha, the loyal huttawa companion who nowadays accompanies his journeys.
A gift from his orkish friend, Brha Tolkor, who was responsible for the training accident that wounded Kor’Milan so severely. Brha’s family is among the Cavalry that protects Urupa, and Ghan-Brha was given to Kor’Milan as a cub, some three years back.
Translated to Throalic, the Name is a bit bulky, but means “Brha’s gift that is a humble request for forgiveness”.
Despite Kor’Milan insisting it wasn’t necessary at all, and especially protesting the name to be a constant reminder of the shame Brha feels about the accident to this day, Brha had strictly refused to let Ghan have any other name. Orcish customs are orcish customs, and you don’t mess with them.
Usually Kor’Milan calls the animal just “Ghan”, but when orcs are around he has learned to use the full name. That way it is just a statement of fact, and regularly won’t rise further questions from traditional orcs who know the customs. Leaving the “Brha” out of the name, will just lead to probing inquiries about the donor and his obviously quite severe transgression. And why Kor’Milan is adding shame to shame by trying to silence the incident itself and the remorse that is obviously felt.
Another noteworthy item is a Crystal Buckler specially made for him, a gift from his father, his former military trainer and his elementalist teacher, when he achieved his first circle. It is adorned with maritime sigils and patterns (mussels, fish, etc.), which represents his upbringing in Urupa at the sea. Also, it represents his military training and the fighting style he developed, combining sabre, buckler and magic. Third, the crystals themselves are connected to the elementalist side of his life.
Why is he journeying right now?
Who was his master?