=========== "But you can call me Folly!" ============ Basic Description Full Name: Folcard Soche Cuffburt (née Rainbeard) Age: 33 Gender: Male Race: Stout Furling Sexuality: Dirt! Preferred Weapon: Wooden staff with two Zankari caps Total Points: 38 + 10 hobby Squad Tactics Skill - 4 - Teamwork makes the dream work! Diplomatic Case Skill - 15 - A silver tongue, the family gift Stave Combat Skill - 5 - A more appropriate weapon for a more nimble dwarf Lightness Sorcery - 8 - Every prophet needs his miracles Elemental Sorcery - 4 - Duindin's fire flows through my staff Culinary Arts Skill - 2 - Food sustains us, the same as worship does Sculpting Arts Skill - 9 - The word of Duindin is written in stone Body Shape Physical Stat - 8 Body Shape - Toned Body Fat - Low Languages Dwarvish - Learned in Childhood Common - Learned in Childhood Zcorr - Learned in Childhood (can understand it, but cannot speak it, due to tail being cut off) Special Traits/Spells/Mutations Lightness Sorcery - Healing Grace, Hope's Beacon Elemental Sorcery- Elemental Branding Visual Description Eye Color: Emerald Green Hair Color: Rusty Red Hair Style: Shaggy, hanging down just past his chin Skin Color: Pale, dwarvish Clothing: A simple vest and set of pants, with a long scarf wrapped around his throat Height: 5' Option Two: The Core List Choose your Character Alignment Chaotic Good - Folly does things at his own pace, choosing what he decides to be the best pathway, but at the end of the day, he's a truely selfless person, advocating for other people's safety over his own. Choose your Character Personality Type ESFP - The Entertainer - Folly believes in living life to the fullest, throwing himself into every single relationship and opportunity that could be given to him. He takes after his Aldor father in that way, and he can always be found with a smile on his face Choose your Character's Religion 10/10 - Dogma of Duindin - Folly believes in the Dogma of Duindin with his whole heart. A combination of his early experiences, being raised by his father, the fact of how willingly the dwarven community accepted him, and his own personal delusions of grandeur, make him pretty much the utmost zealot in the Dogma Folcard was born to his Aldor father, Folmar and Warran mother, Amahn, in a coastal city of the Grebor hold. His mother was a sailor on a ship from a Regalian diplomatic envoy, while his father served in foreign relations. When they met, despite the differences between their races, it was love at first sight. They stayed together for three happy years, until Folcard's mother was forced to leave the Regalian Embassy, to serve out the remainder of her contract to her crew. She never returned. Little Folcard grew up hand-in-hand with his father, who shared a similar set of passions. They both had a silver tongue, and they both got into ever-escalating escapades in their city. Their relationship was more like best friends than that of a father-son relationship, but Folcard wouldn't have it any other way. Soon, Folcard's innately powerful sense of smell was put to work in the mines, but as he spent long hours smelling out ore veins and water reservoirs, he began to feel.. a deep longing in his heart, one that couldn't be expressed in words. On his walk home from work one day, he suddenly smelled a scent that smelt like the feeling he felt in his heart. He followed the scent, tracking it down and down, into the deepest tunnels and catacombs that wound their way through the heart of the forgotten sections of the city, till he found a vast underground complex, filled to the brim with stone statues of dwarven ancestors. He wandered in those halls for long hours, brushing his fingers along the sharp lines of the masonry, reveling in the beauty of the dwarven culture. Eventually he reached it. The largest statue of them all, portraying a massive dwarf with arms of iron, bearing a broad axe infront of its heart. At its feet laid a plaque, inscribed with the name "Duindin." Folcard, exhausted by his journey, fell asleep at the feet of the statue, and as he slept, he had fitful dreams. Dreams of thousands of dwarvish soldiers marching to their deaths, dreams of ancient songs without words, being sung from the throats of a million mouths. Dreams of home and dreams of the unknown. When he awoke, he had a bloody knife clutched in his hand, and his tail in his other. In his feverish trance, he had cut it off. Folcard was never the same after that fateful day. He was distant, sleeping for most hours of the day, ignoring his fathers pleas to come outside and enjoy the sunlight, trying desperately to recapture the magic of that dream. He threw himself into the Dogma, worshipping Duindin with a new fervor, and he spent long hours consulting with the Mage-Priests of the Dogma. They eventually agreed to take him into their order, teaching him sorcery, as well as the basics of wielding a staff, and he earned the title of Forgebrother. While it wasn't the closure he wished for, it calmed him, bringing back a bit of the old Folcard, and he warmed to his father once again. Soon though, his heart began to long for something else, something across the sea. And with the same reckless abandon that he's pursued everything in his life, he pursued this, catching the first ship out, and bidding his father goodbye all within the week. But now that he's in Regalia.. Will he find his closure? Will he be accepted as he was in his hold?
