NAME: Tecarn
ALIASES: Alsir, Hunfrea, Jendrich, Sercan, etc. The alias varies depending on a wide variety of factors, though he's partial to Alsir.
TITLES & RECOGNITION: Shadow-master, the Silencer, Interceptor, Tracker.
CLASS: Peasant
REPUTATION: An expert in stealth, spy work, intelligence gathering and item/person retrieval for the Valkyrie; it isn't uncommon for lower ranking or newer members to not recognize him, as his full face is rarely visible and he bears neither the tattoo nor the cloak of their organization for safety purposes.
RACE: Centaur, appearing human.
ALIGNMENT: Chaotic good
AGE: 27

MARITAL STATUS: Single
SEXUALITY: Who even knows, honestly.
FAMILY: n/a

OCCUPATION: Motherfucking Valkyrie ninja.
HOMETOWN: Caald territory/the Old Savanna.
CURRENT RESIDENCE: n/a

ABILITIES: Surprisingly strong and quick, very light on his feet, can remain undetected when desired, heightened senses. Strong ties to elemental magic and the earth itself.
TRAINING: Mastery over elemental magic, trained in a vast array of naturally occurring poisons, remedies, and botany in general, hunting & tracking, hand-to-hand combat, dagger play, stealth, survival.
LANGUAGES: Doralba (centauri), Caald, eastern common; constantly improving in the western common tongue.

CLOTHING/ARMOR: armor & detailing.
WEAPONS: Four eastern-styled black and bronze daggers, one gut hook styled knife, various venoms and poisons.
CARRYING: Canteen, rope, grappling hook, caltrops, various natural remedies.
COMPANIONS: n/a

personality TRAITS: Child of nature, courageous, curious, elemental bloodline, fast, hardy, inventive, night hunter, quiet type. IDEALS: I am all that remains of a once-proud people; I must do all I can to be worthy of that legacy, although I am beginning to forget more than I should. BONDS: His only true bond isn't an object, but rather the earth itself; to remain confined indoors for long periods of time causes him great (although hidden) discomfort. FLAWS: Detached, emotionless, hauntings of the past, hunted, magical draining, nightmares, rage against the unliving, unnatural aura. The personality Tecarn exhibits now is worlds different than the personality he showed while still amongst his own kind. Once lighthearted and filled with laughter and every bit the sort that could find amusement and fascination in even the smallest things, the turn his life took a little over a year ago has rendered him emotionally ravaged. Now, he is a cold reflection of everything he once was; he feels as though he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders in his knowledge of the fact that he is the last of his kind and that, once he is gone, there will never be more - and if he isn't quiet about his origins, he will be hunted down. He is silent more often than not, though he is not without speech. His words are carefully chosen, a strangely-accented array of the common tongue he has learned over the last year with the occasional Doralba substitution. Although it isn't reflected in his outward appearance, Tecarn is fascinated by other races' customs and languages, and he loves finding the time to simply observe or mingle amongst the public without his mask. On the downside, he has little understanding of the 'personal space' and 'fair warning' concepts others seem to subscribe to, and it isn't uncommon for him to appear seemingly out of nowhere and far too close. He's learning.

appearance HEIGHT: 6' BUILD: Lean, muscular HAIR: Dark brown, wavy/curly EYES: Dark brown DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Purposely avoids having anything distinguishing about his person, so as to be as unidentifiable as possible. The only potentially discerning mark he has is a burn scar stretching from his left pinky to about mid-way up the outside of his forearm, and it is hidden away beneath his clothing. Every bit of Tecarn is deliberately fashioned after the minute possibility that he could, with all his secret knowledge and know-how, potentially fall into the wrong hands if anything were to go wrong. It is for this reason that he was not given the tattoo that Valkyrie members typically possess, and he never carries his blue cloak along with him when he's on an assignment. "Taller than average and big-eyed" is about the only distinguishing description of him that could be given: with long, dark brown hair and brown eyes he is typical of the human race - an irony, considering he was not born human. He does possess a burn scar on his left hand and arm (a product of fire mastery) that is typically covered by his clothing.

Centuries ago, centaurs were plentiful across the plains of Tyriedar, stretching from the coasts of Mirerenna to well across the Bikkral Mountains into the east. They were peaceful in nature, preferring solitude so as to be truly one with the natural world they felt so strongly tied to, and even as magic left the world, it did not leave them entirely. Their magic was no gift from the gods, after all; this was given to them by the earth itself. They learned from a young age to harvest the power that nature gave them, but never to depend too heavily: the Mother was fickle, and the greater the demand for power, the more your own life would be spent. This was the very foundation of centauri teaching - respect the earth, and the Mother will give.

Some amongst them, however, did not agree. The humans bred too quickly, too much. The earth was being taken from them, and further back they were driven, away from the coasts and across the mountains, and in time centaurs learned to lash out at those they saw as disrespectful to the Mother and to nature. They harnessed their elemental magic not for life, but for war and death, and in time their teachings shifted from peace and harmony to something much more vicious, more bloodthirsty. Kill the usurpers, they taught their young. These lands are for our people and we will take them back no matter the cost. These ideals spread like wildfire amongst centauri herds, and soon the majority had forgotten their roots, choosing to wage war on those they felt lesser.

Most, but not all. Near the beginning of the Fifth Age, a splintered group of centaurs braved the Bikkral Mountains to settle away from their now-vicious kin, choosing to roam in solitude in lower Gya. It was disheartening, being separated from their people, but it was for the greater good; these few retained the ideals of their honored ancestors, peaceful and welcoming to not only Men but all races. It was to this herd that Tecarn was born, never knowing of the history behind their location or what had caused their elders to migrate over the mountains; he was taught that they were the last that remained, and he accepted this but did not dwell. In those days, it was difficult for Tecarn to dwell on anything at all, focusing instead on happiness and the freedom they had as they roamed, on learning all he could and laughing just as much. He was a trickster, with a natural innocence that never seemed to fade despite his age, and rare were the times he was seen without a smile. Dedicated to mastering the natural magic within himself, he also spent long hours practicing, and even longer hours sleeping off the way his practicing overuse of magic drained him. On the whole, life was good, and though their herd was small (thirty or so on average), they all took care of one another as family, the way the Mother had intended.

Often do Men grow to fear the things they do not understand. What Tecarn was taught of the past was that, although Men were their earth-brothers, many of their own kind had fallen to their blades and bows in order to "take" land that did not truly belong to anyone. Some Men were good, but on the whole it was wise to not trust them too deeply. This proved true one day when Tecarn's father, a scout, discovered an attack being organized in secret with intent to head toward them - there was barely time enough for him to run back and warn the others before they were set upon. In the chaos, Tecarn's mother desperately sent him fleeing to an enchantress that lived a half day's run away, telling him only that he needed to ask for the gift his parents had left with her. What he did not know was that this gift would prove to be largely unwanted: she took from him everything he was that day, stripping him of his form and instead "gifting" him with the legs of a Man. In horror he looked upon himself in the mirror, devastated beyond belief at being reduced to his new form and, even worse yet, the knowledge she had given him that he would not be able to return to what he once was and that it was for his own safety. This was the gift his parents had left him in fear of the end of their people: that their son would live even if no others did, and that he would be cared for.

He remained with her for only a week before someone else arrived at her cabin. This Man wore a dark blue cloak, and when he arrived, he and the enchantress seemed to have an agreement of sorts when it came to Tecarn. He was to go with this Man, she told him, because that had been the will of his parents. Initially hesitant, he finally gave in, and it was on the journey north that he finally laid eyes upon the site of battle, littered with the corpses of both his fallen kin and the Men who had attacked them. This is where, if asked, he will say his former self died; what he is now is different, a colder rendition, one that reflected the icy northern winds that he would soon grow familiar with.

It was with the Valkyrie that Tecarn was tested in various fields, seeking where his abilities lie and working to hone what skills he naturally possessed. He was, of course, naturally good with elemental magic, but once he found his feet he was also good at stealth and secrecy. He took to daggers quickly; he was fast and more than willing to learn anything thrown at him, including an entirely new language, and he did not have the emotional kinks that 'normal' humans had. With no further purpose that he could see, Tecarn allowed himself to be fashioned into a master of shadow and darkness, faceless and forever a secret - and it fit him, because his own past could never be anything more than a secret, a buried memory, because they would hunt him, too. As other Valkyrie work for the greater good and the protection of one he does not particularly understand, he works in silence, assuming various names and identities and never remaining in one place for longer than is safe or necessary. It's easier, after all, to throw himself into work than to dwell on his past and the nightmares that plague him when he sleeps.