Clahre Phiyne

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ESO @name: aliy_mudrets

Character Name: Clahre Phiyne

Race: Breton

Age: 32

Sex: Male

Marital Status: Single

Affliction: None

Physical Description: Clahre's general appearance is one of controlled neglect. Tall for a Breton, he is otherwise moderately fit. Amorphous splotches tinge his hands with faded, red scars. Beneath his blindfold, similar scars mar the skin around his eyes. He wears his dark brown hair and beard long and without style or adornments, though some effort has been made to keep the former free of tangles and the latter free of crumbs. His clothes are usually mismatched and well worn, often just barely qualifying as clean. When barefoot, his calloused feet suggest years of barefoot walking and bear a few minor scars. He carries with him at all times a frayed satchel and a staff charred black at both ends.

Background: Clahre began life in the town of Crosswych. His mother taught magick, and his father crafted staves. Both had aspirations of taking over leadership roles in the town, and Clahre's birth surprisingly assisted their endeavors. As soon as he could walk, he had playdates with the children of other reputable families. He learned little things day by day, sitting with his mother while she taught or with his father in his workshop. His parents and community ensured his childhood was a happy one.

When he was nine years old, he and a friend were playing in the woods. They pretended to be birds by clearing little areas and making child-sized nests. Unfortunately, one of the plants young Clahre gathered had a toxic sap which burned his hands badly. He ran for home, wiping tears out of his eyes. By the time anyone heard the boys' cries, the sap had already done its damage. No amount of water or salve would bring back his sight. Understandably, his parents devoted themselves to his care and rehabilitation, but this stonewalled any plans for political advancement they had made. Perhaps Clahre sensed some resentment on their parts. Or perhaps he was merely an injured child. Either way, he began using what little magick he knew to lash out at his parents, little shocks when he was angry or small fires when he felt neglected.

His father took these demonstrations as proof that the boy should be taught no more magick; a blind mage would only further injure himself or hurt someone else. His mother was of a different opinion; she wanted to teach him so that wouldn't happen. When she finally began teaching again, she made sure Clahre went with her. He required much more attention than her other students, but he did make progress. Storm magick in particular resonated with him. Over time, he learned to call down lightning and high winds in large swaths. The finer points of magick continued to escape him, and in his practicing, he often burned large patches of the ground. On one such occasion, his lightning bolts struck and killed a number of nearby livestock.

The townsfolks told his parents there would be repurcussions if he ever did something like that again. They pointed out that next time it could be people instead of cows, that his use of magick was quickly becoming a hazard. His father agreed with them and swore to put an end to Clahre's studies. In the privacy of their home that night, his parents argued like never before. His mother was adamant he continue learning because it was the one thing that had stopped his outbursts. Since his world had gone dark, she would give him whatever light he wanted. She insisted he could learn to control it and suggested his father make a staff for him to help him better channel the power. His father refused, and the argument raged on well into the night. His mother eventually stormed out of the hosue, and his father went to bed. Clahre waited until he heard snoring, then crept down to the workshop, took one of the staves, and left home in search of more welcoming company and a capable teacher.

He spent years on the road, his way hampered by bandits, wrong turns, and flimsy rumors of great sorcerers. He learned many things on his way, including how to channel lightning through his staff. Accuracy still eluded him, but the charred wood and a few sparks seemed enough to ward off most bandits. He grew used to long stretches without food and eventually learned to identify edible mushrooms and berries by touch and smell. After being robbed a time or two, he resigned himself to a life of meager possessions. Everything he owned fit in the satchel he carried. This resignation coincided with a profound loss of direction. He came to resemble more and more a pitiable beggar than an aspiring mage. Not above using people's pity to his advantage, he often begged for food and coin or a ride in a wagon. It was on an ore cart that he first heard of the Mages Guild in Daggerfall and his desire to learn was rekindled.

Upon arriving in Daggerfall, however, he met with resistance akin to that back in Crosswych. It took weeks to even get a guild member to talk to him, and it was months before he could see a registrar. No-one was willing to take on a blind apprentice, especially one as unkempt and destitute as Clahre. Dejected, he turned once more to begging, but now he had to contend with guards, thieves, and other beggars. He had to vary his begging sites, sometimes near shops, sometimes on the docks. He heard a lot of talk about Stros M'Kai and its pirates from drunken sailors and disgruntled guards--an island of Dwemer ruins and hidden treasure and even a sorcerer or two. Many, many months passed with Clahre eking out an existence on the streets of Daggerfall, the kernel of Stros M'Kai slowly growing in his thoughts until he convinced himself a pirate mage would have no issue accepting him as an apprentice. With a little persuasion and a hint of intimidation, he secured passage on a ship heading to the island.

Link to Dominion: A storm--not of Clahre's making--blew his ship off course and overwhelmed it. Clahre and a few others survived and drifted the open sea on bits of the ship's wreckage. Fortunately, they were found by a fishing vessel returning home to Velyn Harbor. Unfortunately, Clahre had no idea where that was. He was treated well, and the ship's cook even offered him a place to stay when they docked. He declined and instead set off to explore Malabal Tor the way he had Glenumbra, by foot and by fire.

Personality: Despite being accustomed to his blindness, Clahre still snaps over minor missteps. He may laugh off a bump into a wall one day, but threaten bodily harm if it happens the next. His dependence on others frustrates him, and he avoids asking for help even when he knows he needs it. Should someone ridicule him or take advantage of him because of his lack of sight, he is likely to react violently. He has trusted too readily in the past and is now wary and guarded around others. In truth, he tends to assume the worst in them. His base of knowledge rests on his experiences travelling Glenumbra and the meager schooling he received from his parents. He knows this further disadvantages him, so he takes new situations in stride and listens intently. Aware of his short temper, he does try to keep himself in check, often resulting in his leaving the area to avoid doing something reckless.

Approved 8/21/2017