a guest Oct 21st, 2019 79 Never
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- 29 years old. Slight tan. Salt-grey hair, short on the sides, slightly longer at the top, windswept up and to the side. Grey robe bottoms, held by a dark blue sash around the waist. Lean/slightly muscular build from years of sailing. Often topless, revealing large lightning scar that starts at the left shoulder, reaching slightly around the back of the shoulder and slightly down the upper arm, across the chest towards the other shoulder, and main line of scar goes down towards right hip. Electricity seems to run down the scar at times, or when using storm sorcery. Blue eyes, that also seem to glow bright when using magic, accompanied by a grin and electricity coming off his person when using particularly powerful magics. A grey-blue crystal with lightning trapped inside, hung on a simple chain around his neck, acts as his spellcasting focus.
- Arran was never a child that wanted for much - being the only child of rich merchant parents in Neverwinter means one can live quite comfortably in one of the richer areas of town. Still, children will be as children will, and "over-curious" was oft used to describe the young Half Elf.
- At age 10, he visited his Elf ancestors' home in the forests far south-east of Neverwinter, delighting in the magics and world of the elves. A false sense of security one forest twilight did lead him astray, however, and he followed a trickster fairy deeper into the woods - where fey magics run stronger, and portals to other planes of existence are not all too uncommon. One such portal led Arran to the Elemental Plane of Air, where he stumbled upon a battle between two rival djinni.
- Enraptured, he watched, as lightning bolts coursed through the sky from every angle, and great maelstroms of wind whipped across the ever-open blue skyscapes of the Inner Plane. Finally, the lesser djinni was defeated with a great crash of lightning that pierced its body, but connected with Arran, who acted as an unwilling earthing conduit. Non-lethal, but life-altering all the same - the purest form of lightning in its home plane, infused with the essence of an elemental itself.
- He was shunted back into his home plane, unconscious, and found the next morning by worried family and friends. Arran was nursed back to health with the magic of the elves, but the lightning scar that arcs from his left shoulder down and across his chest was a permanent reminder of his childhood misadventure. Nor could the elves explain the static electricity that would constantly build up at any contact with the young boy, except to put it down to the arcane workings of the Elemental Plane he had found himself in.
- Not one to be dismayed at the introduction of something new and exciting, Arran took to his scars and fledgling powers with all the panache a charismatic young Half Elf can muster. From tiny static shocks, to sustained arcs of electricity between his fingertips, to shocking a grown creature unconscious at a touch, Arran's teenage years were spent exploring his new sorcerous powers; showing off both magic and scar to his peers whenever an opportunity would present itself.
- His parents, at first worried that their son was forever changed for the worse, grew to learn that his childhood curiosity and disregard for who might get hurt as a byproduct of his experiments were there to stay, and that at heart he was going to stay a free spirit forever - as unconstrained and wild-seeming as the environs of the Elemental Plane that granted him his powers.
- At 22, he left on a ship at Neverwinter Port, working as a deckhand to pay for his passage, room, and board. He continued for years living this sea-faring life. Changing ships at every port, ending up in a new far-off location every other month after weeks spent at sea. Eventually, his powers manifested in his ability to control the wind and rain around him, and he found himself in high demand as a weatherworker - a guarantee of ever-favourable winds and calmed storms.
- Eventually, he bought his own sloop, and sailed his way around the Sword Coast - filling his sail with his magewind, and fighting off the varied dangers of land and sea with bolts of lightning and claps of thunder. The Storm Sorcerer, they called him, and in return for a small gift, one could ride the tailwinds he summoned up - sailing with the small and sleek sloop of the sorceror, who would be standing at the stern, robes rolled down to reveal the scar he wears with pride, arms moving in a well practiced dance to control the winds around him.
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