Mani Nangoro
Jan 29, 2012 20:15:49 GMT -5
Post by Ardocc & Mani on Jan 29, 2012 20:15:49 GMT -5
Full Name: Manin Nangoro
Other name: Mani
Race: Human
Side: Neutral
Birthplace: North Hadarac
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Birthday: May 3
Eyes: Dark sea blue
Hair: A light blonde that gets cut only a few times a year. It is thick and forms ringlets when it gets long enough as it is now, hanging to his shoulders. He wears a thick bandana over his forehead which keeps it from his eyes, it was woven by his mother with the Nangoro emblem embroidered across its length.
Weight: 145
Height: 5’6”
Magic User: Yes (See Not-So-Brief-History for the details)
Preferred Weapon(s): A tribal polearm with a thick foot and a half long blade at the end. The staff is made from a hardwood found at the very northwestern part of the Hadarac Desert where it kisses Du Weldenvarden. It was a ritual during the wandering months to stop there to carve their staves to match the height the boys had grown, and replace the ones that the men had lost. The boys were trained from a young age in the artistry and killing force of the polearm. The boys even have to carry their staff with no blade until the age of twelve.
Appearance: Mani Looks very young for fifteen, stunted no doubt by the lacking nutrition of the tribe’s diet. He has no sign of a beard, and his long, sun lightened, blond hair is soft and curls at the ends. His arms are thin but very hard, and he is covered with a very tan complexion. He usually wears a very thin white shirt that hangs loosely to his thighs. His pants are a light tan pair of breech leggings, they have thin strips of leather wound up his calf from the sandals on his feet. In general he is an amiable looking young lad; usually has an optimistic air about him.
Likes: Eating many foods (Usually all at once), talking to just about anyone, playing at riddles, sparring, drawing pictures of animals and nature, music, singing the oral traditions and fables of his people, friendly spirits
Dislikes: Unsociable people, sweets, the rain, the scary spirits, snow, pretty much anything cold
Strengths: He’s very optimistic and a particularly powerful spirit sorcerer (though he doesn’t realize it.) His background has made him hardened and quick witted. By still being young he carries the innocence and naivety that keep him smiling when many will give up.
Weakness: His naivety is a double edged sword obviously; he is quite at risk of falling into the wrong hands and believing what they say. His greatest weakness is the danger he faces as a conjurer of spirits and recklessly turning himself into a shade. Otherwise he greatly lacks in physical strength and speed that adults possess.
Family:
Father: Unknown tribesman
Mother: Kahna Nangoro
Not-So-Brief History:
The wandering tribes of the Hadarac desert carry customs from the days when King Palancar’s people were dividing amongst the land and the Riders were in full swing. The Language – not so ancient at the time – was saturated in all race’s minds. Over the hundreds of years though, the Nangoroth tribe’s customs became engulfed in the Spirits world. By harnessing the power and energy of spirits, magic users could cast spells that were far too much for one man’s strength. The danger in it was ever-present, and like many magic users know it is nearly a death warrant to attempt, not to mention the threat of creating a Shade. Unfortunately the Nangoroth’s were a nomadic and solitary people; during the time the Rider’s rose and fell, Galbatorix rose, and most importantly the use of spirits became taboo, this tribe continued in its ways.
Now, Mani is the last child of a dwindling tribe of the Hadarac Desert. Its numbers are now only 26 souls, but hundreds of spirits, and with the increasing slaughter in the war for Alagaesia they have a surplus of restless energy. What should be understood is that like the humans, elves, dwarves, dragons, urgals, and any other race or animal, all spirits have different personalities and ways of showing themselves. Some are hellbent on capturing and killing the living, others want to possess a body just to keep living, others are content with being a power source in order to be close to the living, others take shadowy forms; what’s to be remembered is that they are all incredibly powerful, and the Ancient magic that the Nangoro use to summon is ingrained deeply.
Though Mani’s entire life was spent in and around their hazardous environment, his childhood was spent free and careless. Because his people are a tribe, Galbatorix has had no hand in their affairs, and no impact on his life. He is a picture perfect, normal young adolescent. At the age of eight every child, boys and girls, receive their staff. At the age of ten, they are tested in their magic control, for those who show ability, and at twelve they receive their blades as a right of passage. He began his summoning training at the age of ten under an elder that requested Mani as a pupil. Unbeknownst to Mani, he had been a focal point for many particularly strong spirits. (A note: the Nangoro teach that every being on earth is followed closely by spirits, they are all around us, and even participate in our life when we are unawares) As Mani continued his training it became obvious that he was very adapt at the taming of spirits and borrowing their strength. The only explanation his elder provided was that as long as he stayed pure of heart as he was, he attracted many spirits who were of the same disposition. But before Mani had time to say a single word, the old master held up one withered finger and told him in a quieted voice that forced the young boy sitting in the sand in front of the chair to listen closer than ever before.
He said, “Though you attract many a good natured and helpful energies, beware. BEWARE! For the same reasons you are a champion of the light, you will be a target. You will be hunted by many an incredible and evil force, and they will consume you.” Mani gaped at the crooked man, who’s eyed were misted over. “Do not fret small one, I have already seen to it that many of my old friends,” a twinkle in his eye as he used the term he lovingly applied to his own spirit familiars, “will watch over for you until you are as dusty as I.” He patted Mani on the head and ruffled his golden ringlets.
They spent the remaining years together until his master passed quietly into the night’s void. His bright spirit now watches over the tribe and his past pupils. No tears are shed in the Nangoro village when someone dies, they know better than any that life goes on. They are a stronger people for this lack of fear in death, but their physical numbers now dwindle. Mani being fifteen now completes supply runs to and from Furnost for his tribe, the small town is close enough to keep him away only a few weeks, but with the Varden coalescing on the usually barren plains outside Uru’baen, Mani’s route takes him straight through the fray.
Password: Witch of Teirm
Other name: Mani
Race: Human
Side: Neutral
Birthplace: North Hadarac
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Birthday: May 3
Eyes: Dark sea blue
Hair: A light blonde that gets cut only a few times a year. It is thick and forms ringlets when it gets long enough as it is now, hanging to his shoulders. He wears a thick bandana over his forehead which keeps it from his eyes, it was woven by his mother with the Nangoro emblem embroidered across its length.
Weight: 145
Height: 5’6”
Magic User: Yes (See Not-So-Brief-History for the details)
Preferred Weapon(s): A tribal polearm with a thick foot and a half long blade at the end. The staff is made from a hardwood found at the very northwestern part of the Hadarac Desert where it kisses Du Weldenvarden. It was a ritual during the wandering months to stop there to carve their staves to match the height the boys had grown, and replace the ones that the men had lost. The boys were trained from a young age in the artistry and killing force of the polearm. The boys even have to carry their staff with no blade until the age of twelve.
Appearance: Mani Looks very young for fifteen, stunted no doubt by the lacking nutrition of the tribe’s diet. He has no sign of a beard, and his long, sun lightened, blond hair is soft and curls at the ends. His arms are thin but very hard, and he is covered with a very tan complexion. He usually wears a very thin white shirt that hangs loosely to his thighs. His pants are a light tan pair of breech leggings, they have thin strips of leather wound up his calf from the sandals on his feet. In general he is an amiable looking young lad; usually has an optimistic air about him.
Likes: Eating many foods (Usually all at once), talking to just about anyone, playing at riddles, sparring, drawing pictures of animals and nature, music, singing the oral traditions and fables of his people, friendly spirits
Dislikes: Unsociable people, sweets, the rain, the scary spirits, snow, pretty much anything cold
Strengths: He’s very optimistic and a particularly powerful spirit sorcerer (though he doesn’t realize it.) His background has made him hardened and quick witted. By still being young he carries the innocence and naivety that keep him smiling when many will give up.
Weakness: His naivety is a double edged sword obviously; he is quite at risk of falling into the wrong hands and believing what they say. His greatest weakness is the danger he faces as a conjurer of spirits and recklessly turning himself into a shade. Otherwise he greatly lacks in physical strength and speed that adults possess.
Family:
Father: Unknown tribesman
Mother: Kahna Nangoro
Not-So-Brief History:
The wandering tribes of the Hadarac desert carry customs from the days when King Palancar’s people were dividing amongst the land and the Riders were in full swing. The Language – not so ancient at the time – was saturated in all race’s minds. Over the hundreds of years though, the Nangoroth tribe’s customs became engulfed in the Spirits world. By harnessing the power and energy of spirits, magic users could cast spells that were far too much for one man’s strength. The danger in it was ever-present, and like many magic users know it is nearly a death warrant to attempt, not to mention the threat of creating a Shade. Unfortunately the Nangoroth’s were a nomadic and solitary people; during the time the Rider’s rose and fell, Galbatorix rose, and most importantly the use of spirits became taboo, this tribe continued in its ways.
Now, Mani is the last child of a dwindling tribe of the Hadarac Desert. Its numbers are now only 26 souls, but hundreds of spirits, and with the increasing slaughter in the war for Alagaesia they have a surplus of restless energy. What should be understood is that like the humans, elves, dwarves, dragons, urgals, and any other race or animal, all spirits have different personalities and ways of showing themselves. Some are hellbent on capturing and killing the living, others want to possess a body just to keep living, others are content with being a power source in order to be close to the living, others take shadowy forms; what’s to be remembered is that they are all incredibly powerful, and the Ancient magic that the Nangoro use to summon is ingrained deeply.
Though Mani’s entire life was spent in and around their hazardous environment, his childhood was spent free and careless. Because his people are a tribe, Galbatorix has had no hand in their affairs, and no impact on his life. He is a picture perfect, normal young adolescent. At the age of eight every child, boys and girls, receive their staff. At the age of ten, they are tested in their magic control, for those who show ability, and at twelve they receive their blades as a right of passage. He began his summoning training at the age of ten under an elder that requested Mani as a pupil. Unbeknownst to Mani, he had been a focal point for many particularly strong spirits. (A note: the Nangoro teach that every being on earth is followed closely by spirits, they are all around us, and even participate in our life when we are unawares) As Mani continued his training it became obvious that he was very adapt at the taming of spirits and borrowing their strength. The only explanation his elder provided was that as long as he stayed pure of heart as he was, he attracted many spirits who were of the same disposition. But before Mani had time to say a single word, the old master held up one withered finger and told him in a quieted voice that forced the young boy sitting in the sand in front of the chair to listen closer than ever before.
He said, “Though you attract many a good natured and helpful energies, beware. BEWARE! For the same reasons you are a champion of the light, you will be a target. You will be hunted by many an incredible and evil force, and they will consume you.” Mani gaped at the crooked man, who’s eyed were misted over. “Do not fret small one, I have already seen to it that many of my old friends,” a twinkle in his eye as he used the term he lovingly applied to his own spirit familiars, “will watch over for you until you are as dusty as I.” He patted Mani on the head and ruffled his golden ringlets.
They spent the remaining years together until his master passed quietly into the night’s void. His bright spirit now watches over the tribe and his past pupils. No tears are shed in the Nangoro village when someone dies, they know better than any that life goes on. They are a stronger people for this lack of fear in death, but their physical numbers now dwindle. Mani being fifteen now completes supply runs to and from Furnost for his tribe, the small town is close enough to keep him away only a few weeks, but with the Varden coalescing on the usually barren plains outside Uru’baen, Mani’s route takes him straight through the fray.
Password: Witch of Teirm
