Cealion

Cealion is a Sea Elf Dhamphir Sorcerer.

forward(ooc)

the format will be in the form of scrawled messages to Cealion's favored tabaxi courtesen Azuria, beginning after a night of Cealion crying endlessly on her shoulder. As such the 'chapters' are basically one-off notes about particular parts of Cealion's life in a messy un-coordinated manner.

(front and back first page) (front)

Water,darkness, nature, magic, undeath, and, of course, luck. I guess in my case it was unluck, even if it was my own folly that caused it. Man being jealous of normal life never sucked so bad, heh 'sucked'. Well i guess i'm gonna be doing a lotta something like that, being a Dhampir an' all. if you're the Tabaxi who was kind to me, you can take this story as payment for the companionship last night. I really needed a shoulder to cry on, although i guess my emotions will ebb slowly. Oh right you wanted my life story. Well i guess this piece o' scrawled paper will have to do. How'ed my childhood go? Ah yes, those flying machines are a thing, 'airships' i think that dwarf called them. Well, getting sacrificed to them by extra superstitious parents is not generally how i'd imagine most children would experience their childhood. Add to that the fact the ship was stolen in the first place by undead and you get a problem, ok, LOTS of problems. For one thing being forced to work as a pilot because the pirate undeads aren't smart enough to land it well without directions from that vampire, wait, was he a vampire? Was he even a HE to begin with? I donno, they were pale and had bloodshot eyes but were otherwise quite secretive. Anyways, piloting, yea, that's a thing. you ever try to land a hecking AIRSHIP while being a small child? Try doing that under fear of death because your parents are mean and stow you away on a pirate ship in the first place. In hindsight my parents were very dumb, weren't they? I wish i could tell them a thing or two. Too bad i donno' where we were originally. let's continue about that airship piloting experience. We died, again, almost, well, TECHNICALLY we crashed and survived. We DID die, but most of the undead could reesemble themselves. Although when the an elf suddenly grows some scales when exposed to liquids(such as their own blood) it tends to raise some eyebrows. Such as a certain hooded undead's. So that 'thing' did something to me, and now i have a mild craving for blood again.

(back)

Right, story. I'm undead, I know giant flaming curving fireball. I'm sure the pale skin REALLY didn't tip you off. Well something interesting happened when i got 'changed' by that undead thing. You know how when a wizard breaks his magic wand the magic contained within kinda, ya know, explodes everywhere causing chaotic randomness to happen. Yeah, it turns out that a similar thing happens when you shove too many elements into the same vessel, or in this case, ME. You'ed think that exploding with chaotic energy infused from the combination of many elements not playing well with eachother would be fun right? YOU WOULD BE VERY WRONG! It is painful as all crap. Luckily i didn't die from this because of a sealing spell, is that right? It might've been a scroll. Anyways, my chaotic energy got settled down by that pale thing, you wanna know what happened next? IT BIT ME! Surprisingly, in comparison to the explosive entropy i was previously experiencing, this was barely a prick. I still felt it, but in comparison to every inch of your skin shocking with a searing, burning pain, it was not noticable at the time. Anyways. that was my childhood. My teen years were spent dealing with mechanical things at a certain dwarf's place(remember when i mentioned one when talking about flyin machines as airships?). If we find eachother again i'll tell you about it on another scrawled page, lend me your shoulder when that happens please, thanks in advance.

-may chaos be with you 
Cealion (second page, front)

Yarrog 'The bold' he called himself, not what i'd call a 3 ft dwarf with arms wider than his head, but he was as stout as you'ed imagine. After my rocky childhood of airship piloting(which i no longer remember much of) he sorta picked me up after i wandered around from the crash. Now you might think he was one of those blacksmithing dwarves right? wrong, very stupidly wrong. He doesn't manipulate metal in a furnace, but with WRENCHES. What are these wrenches you ask? I haven't the slightest clue. the only wrench i knew of was a slab of metal with a hook on the end to rotate little nubs of iron. These i used to help repair the airship. His wrenches varied from a wire needle mechanism to a weird claw grabber thingy to even some powered gloves for extra heavy lifting. You seen a glove that shocks you while you wear it? He gave me one as a practical joke, until i burnt something inside cinders from the chaotic energy exploding from me, causing it to malfunction and explode, i chuckled, he didn't. Hmm what else happened back then. Oh yes, explosives and mechs, well not really mechs. more like wooden mobile suits. Not armor, but personnel locomotion. Imagine you have stilts on, but they are attached to a cage and you operate the stilts throught the cage and IT'S ALL WOODEN, gods the splinters would keep me from sleeping well at night, and i come in the workshop the next morning all tired and Yarrog be grinning like the worst gremlin ever after making me try his new 'Prototypes'. Did i run? No, i'd rather spite him first.

(back, tbc)