User Name: [Evolution X]

Character Name: “Sly” Llyvurn Whenbury

Class: Travelling Bard

Secondary Skills(x3): Negotiation, Endurance, Mapmaking

Gender: Male

Age: 27

General Appearance: More often than not Llyvurn finds himself with too little money and too little clothes, while he attempts to repair what he has he never seems to be able to master that skill like other travelling bards. This results in Llyvurn wearing many layers of the shoddy clothes he can scrounge off people, most holes just revealing more cloth. Underneath it all he is, how he would describe, “padded”, as he frequently manages to talk his way into people’s homes for dinner and owns his own portable kitchen. This means he never really goes hungry, and since he rides around on his cart most of the day he doesn’t get excessive exercise either. He is not fat however, he has seen what can happen to a man constantly on the road that does not look after himself, and Llyvurn can handle himself in a fight. He stands 5’11”, has light brown hair and a rather wide mouth that seems to be always smiling on default; this, coupled with a life outdoors, means that his wrinkles have set in early and they can be seen clearly around his blue eyes.

Personality: Llyvurn is rather vocal of his opinions, since it comes naturally to a Bard, however he tries to keep his outlook cheerful and optimistic. It is his job to entertain those he sings to after all, while he does know several sad songs and more religious ballads for the solemn times he prefers to sing happy songs. When goaded into a fight he tends to attempt not to kill the assailant, or at least try to, he sees everyone as someone’s father, someone’s mother, someone’s child or someone’s loved one. That does not stop him from bludgeoning the person over the head with a saucepan, lute or sword if he is forced to it, but he tends to avoid grievous harm.

After the war, his mood refuses to change almost stubbornly, to the point he may become actively rattled if a person continues to be pessimistic. He can come across as having forced Jollity if pushed, revealing a deeper sadness that remains with him always.

History: Llyvurn once tried to enter the priest hood when he was younger, he had been born into a working class family who could just manage to pay enough to get Llyvurn’s older brother into a good school and Llyvurn himself into a monastery in Oujuh. Here he was put to work as a choir boy and scholar, discovering his latent talent for singing when everyone had been told to sing Hymn XIV one by one until they got the words right. He even learnt to cook, draw and play instruments, as all boys were taught the basics of looking after themselves. Llyvurn was actually rather a good little choir boy, reading the scriptures and believing it, even following it. At that time.
It was the moment that the other boys snuck him out to the local speak-easy that changed him from the respectful little choir boy he used to be to something more rebellious. Llyvurn wasn’t truly terrible, when he looked back on things he had still followed MOST of the scriptures, and still followed ones that he liked to this day. He had just found a life outside the monastery and had become addicted to it, along with the wine and several beautiful women that came with it. They couldn’t kick him out because he never acted out on anything, or at least was never caught, so he was tolerated.
His education came to an end; at least as far as the priests would take it before telling him that he could not continue his secret night time activities and stay there. He thanked them for their tutelage and left on the next caravan he could, starting his life travelling from place to place and singing songs to pass the time. Eventually he managed to buy his first lute, which he kept with him until he smashed it over a bandit’s head to knock some sense into him. It has been around six years since he left the order and he will admit his morals have grown lax since then, but he has grown more popular with those he visits. It might have something to do with the added experience and humour he put into his once religious songs, or maybe the still that he had recently acquired that bubbled out a few regular drafts of the strong stuff. He also makes a bit of money on the side, drawing maps of places, noting minutely his travels along the winding roads and constantly updating his personal map.

Llyvurn was part of the terrible war, as good a part as he could be as a simple bard, but in the end he lost the closest person he had in the world. At least he thought he did. Llyvurn had followed Cajanic, his best friend in the entire group, up into the airship she had stolen away in. He had been with her as she jumped from the side, stabbing her blades into the neck of the great winged beast below them and riding it to a messy, broken pile on the ground... Cajanic was dead in his eyes, no one could survive a drop like that, let alone the crash, the debris, the destruction that had been left in its wake... That didn't stop him from searching for her body though, spending days among the rubble after the fight, picking through it. He found many bodies, but none of them were Cajanic's. He was devastated by her apparent death, leaving the land he knew as home, travelling far away and returning to his previous religious texts for comfort; he was never truly accepted back into the religious way however, because his other comfort in that time was excessive drink. He traveled far from the mountains, moving towards the deserts, away from the sadness he held in his past. His heart, in time, recovered from the his loss, but he remained in the lands far to the East, moving from place to place along the roads, spreading happiness as best he could and giving as much information on how to kill the beasts that still plagued the land. He is travelling now, following the winding roads and stopping at each town and city he comes across, the pain he had once suffered driving him to spread as much happiness as possible in such a dark time. Currently, he is stopping off at Labridge, stocking up on supplies among the great merchant city walls, and regailing each tavern and Inn with tales of his adventures during the war.

Worshiped God/Goddess: Nylram

Other: While he owns a sword it’s rather dull at the moment as he doesn’t use it often. He tends to fight with what he has on his person, which ranges from a tankard to his instrument to a pot from the kitchen. More than once he has snatched up his cooking implement only to accidentally cover the assailant with boiling liquid and scald them.

The God's Chosen