Name Penril Tanith of Taran
Sex Male
Age 34
Occupation(s) Usually known as the shopkeeper “Pen” who maintains a well-known pub in Olencia
Status and Rank Crown Prince of Olencia
Roots and Origin
He was one of the five children of High King Belenus of House Taran, and the youngest. His two older brothers and two older sisters had died because of some illness, and that left the house distraught over their last chance of continuing such a good and legendary heritage. Apprehension and worry surrounded the young prince from all sides, mostly coming from the King’s closest family.
His mother was something of a curiosity. It was said that she was from House Calendae. Well, she certainly had her own beauty, but Penril cannot remember any of that now. She and his father met in what we could rather call cliché meetings of love. The usual, summer night with a full moon, gracefully aging king goes hunting in the night for a nice bathing place after getting rid of his bodyguards, stumbles upon a river and looks upon the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. While it wasn’t exactly a love at first sight, we can be assured that Penril’s mother Vrinda grew to love his father.
The wedding wasn’t much of a historic event, though it did have its splendor. Vrinda got along fairly well with everyone in court because of her charming personality; it seemed that she was always happy and could almost always cast out gloom in one place just by her sheer presence. Some of the High Ladies in court had some difficulty with her of course, mostly attributable to insecurity. Vrinda was the youngest and of course, the most beautiful of them.
Belenus certainly favored his wife, especially when the news came that she was with their fifth child. At this point Penril’s last surviving sibling (Oreantha) had died because of a crippling illness. Vrinda’s conception was dangerous, however. She was sensitive, and Lelahiah seemed to turn her smile from her. She died after giving birth to Penril.
Belenus was of course devastated and thus put his remaining son in stringent protective measures. Though Penril could barely remember that now. If he does, he is wont to say, “Well I do remember the old man insisting my nurses to accompany me even in bath. By the suns I swear that is most ludicrous!”
After five years, Belenus was completely devastated when there came a winter morning and Penril was already gone. Without a trace, a very clean work only a Slayer could accomplish.
*Penril now knows of his lineage thanks to Hadrian Evaristus.
Appearance
Ahh, appearance. Penril is a tad vain for a Slayer, but he has good reason to be. Though the goddess Lelahiah did not favor his mother, she certainly favored him. He is of good height, standing some five feet and nine inches tall, with a toned down body of fair complexion. His muscles are there but they don’t stand out that much, and his chest, back, arms and legs are riddled by scars that the origin of which will be discussed later. His chocolate brown hair reaches up to his nape, cut in what could be described as a haphazard fashion. Though Penril's hair is unruly, it does not deter his good looks at all.
His face is somewhat of a legend for the women of downtown Olencia. His eyes are also of chocolate brown color, but with a tinge of red if you look closely. His nose is just about exact, matching his well-framed face. He is really vain when it comes to his nose and would very readily punch if someone grabbed it out of hand. His lips are quite full, and some ladies do say that it suits well for kissing. Penril merely laughs when asked about that.
When he is working in his ‘pub’, Penril is often seen wearing a white shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He wears faded pants or breeches (whatever you prefer to call them) and poorly-polished knee-length boots. He does not go around without his trusty gray apron with two deep pockets. These pockets can hide a bottle of wine or a comb and mirror. But mostly just bottles of wine and some extra coins for change. He wears earrings on both earlobes.
Strenghts
~ Penril’s most outstanding attribute has got to be his ability in magic of course. As the new Ablest (and the youngest one to boot) he has proven already quite a lot in the eyes of the other Slayers. He is one of the well-trained and well-talented ones. He is Strong, but he knows enough to draw only what is needed from his sources. While he makes items of blessing every now and then, he is careful of this, saying that people still need to depend on their own limbs in order to go by.
~ He can think very well under pressure, and by pressure, we mean pressure. Like thinking coherently while the ship you’re on is currently being chased by a gigantic, monstrous squid hell-bent on eating your crew. Or thinking coherently while a very attractive woman passes by and you are busy counting change for a harassing customer who complains the change you gave him is just enough.
~ The face. Of course. Penril knows how to use his face to get what he wants, but he is modest enough not to use his charm very often.
~ The ability (or knack) to laugh even when times are pressing. Penril is quite a complicated person, but his customers love him because of his sense of humor. He seemed to have gotten this from his mother Vrinda. He could make even the gloomiest person laugh and lighten up. The same goes for apprentices who are about to face their final test to become full-pledged Slayers. He can inspire them so by the way he speaks – or simply just by smiling at them. He has this overall effect on people.
Weaknesses
~ Women. Penril has a tendency to look and flirt with women.
~ Inexplicable, but Penril is deathly afraid of rats. He freezes in his tracks when he sees a rodent, and his coherent thinking goes down the drain. He just can’t move when the little monsters show themselves. He pales and shakes, and remains so until someone else or the rodent itself goes away.
~ In non-magical combat, Penril is a poor fighter. He needs to get close to his opponent to be able to use his dual blades. An archer can easily fell him down.
~ His dead mentor and former Ablest Zruti and his father, High King Belenus.
~ Penril usually puts other people ahead, almost always forgetting his own well-being.
~ He takes the Slayer’s duty to protect people too much.
Magic
Penril is the former Ablest. He has talent to begin with, and with a very good mentor, has learned to harness and control his full capabilities regarding this area. He is one of the handful of fully-fledged Slayers who can draw enough magic from nature with virtually no devastating results.
Personality
If Penril could be summed up in one word, Complication would be the most fitting.
As a Slayer. Penril is an efficient task-master, sometimes even bordering on ruthless. He believes that having the ability of magic is one of the greatest burdens anyone could ever have in the world. He sees it that training is the only way that apprentices can actually be of help and save themselves the pain of being unable to stop a catastrophe from taking place. He is also unflinching when he takes children from their unwilling parents. ‘He kills his heart’ whenever he goes to do this important thing.
As Bartender Pen. That perverted bartender. His is the one you usually behind that nicely polished oak counter, wiping glasses, with an ever-ready smile on is face. He likes women. He would even go so far so as to give them a grope or two, and wouldn’t mind getting slapped for his efforts. He’s the one you could always talk to about anything under the three suns – about your pet, about your fishing boat – about the hole in your sock. He always listens and would always suggest a solution for your problem, with a bonus joke pitched in. He’s careful about money. He doesn’t miss a trick, this man. He can sense it if something bad’s about to happen, and is always ready to take things out of his pub before things get wrecked. He keeps a tight fist around his money, but not to the point of being stingy.
Miscellaneous bits. Penril uses his magic only in the direst need; when other’s lives are in danger or when he is extremely (take note on emphasis) provoked. He has lots of patience. Hardened by the rigors, fears and pains of a Slayer’s life, he maintains that there are only very few things now that can make him flinch, disgusting rats included. He is ready to defer to someone else’s opinions or decisions so long as they are well-made and well-justified in his point of view. He argues fiercely if he sees one point is correct and the others are insisting that it is wrong. He loves listening, and maintains that it is by listening that you can begin to understand. But apart from it all he is quite a lonely existence. He has long forgotten his own happiness in place of the welfare of those he had sworn to protect.
HISTORY
An excerpt from material written by Slayer Dersine
He arrived in the Keep cradled in the Ablest’s arms, asleep, clad in the glittering finery of a prince. Even though he was ever so little, I knew he was going to be a force to be reckoned with. My brothers and sisters gathered around the Ablest, ready should he assign this new child under our care. Already I had a girl under my wing, named Marina. She too was still young, taken from her parents a week before the Ablest moved to take this boy.
“The prince, Ablest?” Slayer Fjodor inquired softly.
Master Zruti nodded sadly. “He has the ability. He is never destined for the Crown.” And so he told us that the child’s name was Penril.
From what I could remember, my life was nothing else except hardship, body pain, explosions and more hardships. Life in the Slayers’ Keep was certainly not the best life in the world. From sunup to sundown I was always in the presence of the Ablest, being tutored in the fine and subtle ways to control and harness the ability given to me for the better of the world.
The hardest (and ironically the most basic) part of training was learning how to ‘reach out’ to the nature – the magic around you. You were made to sit under the watchful eyes of the Ablest for hours, cross-legged, faking relaxation and deep thought, all the while a nagging voice at the back of your head was constantly saying over and over that you looked stupid and was doing an equally more stupid task by trying to touch the air. The hardest part of the hardest training has got to be ignoring that voice. Many times I had failed, or succumbed to this same voice, and Master Zruti always had a lovely punishment of five hours of chopping wood and gathering water for me. Sometimes when he was feeling too nice he would order me to scrub in the scullery. With my bare hands. Some Slayers eat so slovenly that they can shame an entire pen full of pigs. Reality bites.
Like any other child I was often wondering about my parents, wondering about how my life would have been if I hadn’t been one born with the ability. I would not be sitting around for hours trying to touch the air around me. I would have been being taught how to ride or to hunt, or learning lullabies and helping with simple chores befitting a child of my age. Even from then on I accepted my fate. That I would always think of others before I thought about myself.
Sensing the magic in the air – the realization that it was so near, just always there around you, brought tears to my eyes. That was the hardest done, the sensing and the touching. Now it was time to teach me how to control the magic and use it. I didn’t usually train with the other apprentices of the other Slayers; Master Zruti was well-known to be selfish with his apprentices and liked to keep them separated. Though I was certainly assured that I was not receiving better treatment. It always seemed to me that because the Ablest was my mentor, I was the most downtrodden of the lot. I did more chores than the other apprentices; I trained far longer hours and strained myself to the point that I was ready to drop dead at the end of every damn day.
I had a handful of friends, all other apprentices of course. My most precious people aside from Master Zruti had to be Deryn, Sez and Merise. When we were given a rare free time we always spent our hours together, playing, just like what children were supposed to do. Deryn was the oldest in us. He was five years my senior, and Merise two. These were the first people I had fun with. They often gave me helpful tips that their own masters had taught them. Though I constantly hoped that Deryn and Sez would get along fairly.
It was with Deryn that I discovered that I would like women. Slayer Dersine was the first object of my unwanted attention, as I like to remember it now. She had been bathing, and the smell of her soap was such that I couldn’t help myself but look. By the three suns she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She made me blush most of the time. Deryn caught me, but he very wisely kept his mouth shut. Slayer Dersine has never found out, I hope. If she would, she would have confronted me.
Deryn, Sez, Merise and I grew side by side and so did our magic. Soon I came to outstrip them in the race of power and talent, but Master Zruti taught me humility well. Deryn, Sez and Merise proved to be friends all the way, and we still co-existed peacefully. Until I started to notice how pretty Merise was. I kept my feelings to myself, content to just watch her. Slayers simply didn’t love.
Merise by this time was ready to cross the Barrier. She was the next most powerful in our trio, and I knew in my heart she would succeed.
She didn’t come back.
It was my first experience in which your powers actually sapped down – meaning, the ability to sense and touch the magic around you faded entirely. I was back to the hardest training. I worked feverishly, to distract myself from the grief of losing Merise. I cried for her and for the feeling that I never managed to tell her, but I moved on just the same. Slayers trained their apprentices to be so. If you died, then you’re dead. Nothing we can do about that.
Deryn also didn’t come back.
I vowed to myself that I would rise from the standstill I landed myself into and pass the test for my dead friends. I got back my sensing ability after ten long years of hard work. I was twenty-two when I had my abilities back. Six more years and I found myself ready to cross the Barrier...
...the Dragon I killed was a dominant female, a nesting mother. I barely escaped with my life. Battling Fire with Fire was not a good idea, but Fire and Earth were my only resources when I strove to kill this wondrous black reptile that was hell-bent on eating me alive for her dinner. I thought that my training had been hard. Well it had reason to be. It was a hard battle. Coupled with the threats of the place and the journey...I don’t really need to elaborate. Those who have passed the test know what I am talking about. I am not about to divulge secrets to unworthy people.
My master welcomed me back with much joy. I was the newest Slayer since Slayer Dersine passed her test, and that was...forty years ago. I was now a fully-pledged Slayer. I immediately asked for permission to be stationed in Olencia. Master Zruti did not approve, but I managed to argue my way out of it.
So I acquired for myself a ‘pub’ where I could observe and protect the people without seemingly doing it. The people outside the Keep...I cannot even begin to search for a word to describe them. Maybe fascination will do, but all in all it is a weak term. I enjoyed mingling with them. And the women...the women were simply lovely. Lovely enough that I was often slapped two to three times a week for my efforts.
I was simply bartender ‘Pen’ to them. Their local, friendly and loud innkeeper who liked to listen to stories. Doing my duties as a Slayer was always under the trusty concealment of cloaks with deep cowls. I sailed with ships that were going to the farther end of the ocean, and sometimes I did my rounds in the woods and borders of the territories of the Houses to ensure the people’s safety. Nobody ever connected bartender ‘Pen’ to the hooded man who kept the seas safe and calm for journeys.
...There was a summon from the Keep. I hastened back among my brothers and sisters. Master Zruti was dying; Valleran was soon going to claim him back. My dying master, my dying father, took me beside him, and with the final ounce of his strength, transferred the Ablest’s mark onto my cheek. I was the new Ablest, by will of Master Zruti. Shortly afterward, Valleran had finally taken him away from us.
The system (if ever there is) the former Ablest have left us was retained when I started my leadership. I continued the system and the discipline I have grown up with. There was nothing to change...for now. I returned to Olencia after a year, masquerading the mark on my face as a fancy tattoo I acquired in one of my journeys. The people never really tended to ask much questions.
The people around me were the same, though I have changed. I protect them still, to the best of my abilities... *huggles Penril*
Oh, the suspence, eh? Well I liked it.
Very nice. :D
Two small details - first of all, you made a referral to Belanus as though he had several wives at once. Although we did not specify, it might be best if we let the king just have one wife at a time, though multiple throughout his life would be fine.
Second - I wasn't sure, does Penril know his origin (of House Taran, I mean)? If he does, it's likely that House Ghayth knows it as well, and even if he is a Slayer, that does not mean they will not try to hunt him down (afraid he may claim the crown).
(Your character and my character are distantly related... XD)
The suspence has ended! *goes off to edit*
CUZZIN! *stitch accent*
One last thing - you also need a second name. Knew I was forgetting something. :D
Thank you! *stamp of approval*
I also have to change your username now to incorporate your second name, so don't be surprised when it does.
Updated. Penril now knows who he is in Olencia. :D