Garrace+Beleaker

//(his skin should be a bit bluer)//

//Beleaker Family Coat of Arms (I just felt like it.)//

Place of Birth: Macirnog, Anarchintia. Age: 708 Height: 5'9" Weight: 143 Race: Human, Elf Eye Colour: teal Skin Colour: beige-teal (like somebody drowned) Hair Colour: dark teal Types of Magick: ritual, nature, astral projection Shadow Totem: death, enclosed spaces, and loss of knowledge _ FAVOURITES

Food: Trruma (feta cheese on top of lamb) Colour: green (pine shade), purple, pink, teal Time of day: dawn/dusk Animal: gryphoni (griffin), ddraig (dragon) Topic of discussion: economy, government, philosophy, genealogy, religion, - OTHERS

Motto: Sin η ζωή. (That's life) Hobbies: hunting, philosophy, genealogy, and cultural studies - GARRACE'S STORIES / BACKGROUND

Garrace hasn't done or seen much in his life, and what he has done are extreme. When he was seventy-two, Garrace was tired of following his laws in Macirnog. His tribe, the Ilts-Vek, were in constant battle between other people. He wanted out. He was tired of the blood, the clashing of blades, the screaming, and everything else that went on in the dull Anarchintian ground. His father would always tell him, "When you have your own family, what'll they have from you to look up to?" Garrace didn't care. Over fifty years in the Macman Stags (branch of the Macirnog Army), and he's done.

So, one day, during a battle with the Hum-Fryer tribe, he met someone from another army branch. He said that there would be a boat heading out to Enen, Ditas in Comeras.

"It'll be in Du-Gaill Docks," the man added. "About ten miles from Chill-Ceannach. It's not the greatest there, but there aren't any wars."

"Well what happens there?" Garrace asked.

"Homicide, suicide, you know. It's a great place in my thought. Besides, it's better than here, eh?"

"I suppose," Garrace sighed. "What's it like in the capital?"

"Vani-Tat? What about it?"

"Are there good people there?"

"Hehe, good? Define good."

Lovely, he thought. He didn't care, though. Garrace wanted out of the constant battles. He truly lived up to his family's motto: "Take the Chance." And take it, he did.

The western horizon glowed in the night. Every house had a shield painted on it, each one was a different family. Everything was stone, nothing like he'd seen before. Garrace was used to having old, dried cacti as walls, and his only light was from the moon or sun (Macirnog's motto: Sunshine or Shadow). There were buildings twice the size of the ship he was on; he's used to ones half to a quarter the size. There was a building even larger than the others; a castle. The castle had flags of shield rather than paintings. The castle was the residence of Enen's Mayor.

There was a man on the docks holding a sign.

Garrace turns to a man beside him. "What does it say?"

"Welcome to Du-Gaill Docks. One rotukg please."

"What's a rotugk?"

The man stared. "You're not serious? Everyone knows they need a rotugk, or enough of another currency, to enter Enen."

"Do you have a spare?"

Luckily for him, he did. In fact, he was a rich man from the Bay of Bu-Kannin in Demokrepu.

"Thanks. What's your name?"

"Stefani Cumhaill."

Garrace stared. How did he get here? His place is millions of miles off of this plane. What do I do now?

He said the only thing his tongue could: "Nice to meet you."

Garrace is two-hundred-five, and has a house out in Dimitri District, Vani-Tat. He is a blacksmith in Port Mac-Armaou, working for a man named Sealous Brennanopoulos, messenger of the king, and blacksmith for the Basilias Reithe (King's Rams).

It's Garrace's two-hundred-seventh birthday, and the rain is so thick it's black. An hour or so into work, and a scream is heard from the Basilias Uamh (King's Home) and the rain stops. Clouds, silence, scent of wet pavement. Since it's clear now, Garrace and Sealous run to the king's home. They're feet barely touched the ground until they got there. The doors stand not much taller than two men, but has weight of over ten. They broke it down by a single blade. They call it Blade of Na Dodeka (the Twelve).

They stare in mourn as they reach the king's room. Decapitated. The wisdom of an immortal man, gone. Over half an eon of knowledge lost.

Garrace and Sealous prayed the Thiarne (Prayer of the Gods):

"O dodeka, vistana bilo fret-es, kokkinos eretta vagos simi basilias. Cere chill chadden veves dali Buertha yaggi bentic imo, agus dtinte marroh. Yevonne casav lanc atos dandte meud dis tued, abalei, tose serri, s'agapo vertos nani aba. Deyun nue acher, ader kassa dtinte vroalsma. Cruchainn, Cu-Chulainn, baki Kokka. Chere, o chere, eleftheria apo o natitioa antri Comeras. Ate morta gi, amenos."

This is the first time the prayer has been said in over half an eon. The prayer is so powerful, people in the southern hemisphere can sense the mourning of the king. His name was Cinead mac Alpinous, 500,070 years old. King of Comeras for 499,991 years, crowned at the age of 79.

"How old are you?" Sealous asked eagerly.

"207. Why?"

"We're the first to witness this, and you're older than I am."

"So what?" Garrace spits.

"Have you heard of Vet's Dim?"

Garrace stares at him blankly. Did you just say that?

"Never heard of it," he lied. "Is it important?"

"Come with me." says Sealous with impatient attitude.

Garrace is keeping his knowledge of the artefact a secret (in Macirnog, it was illegal to mention anything of Vet's Dim, even the name. The sentence to such knowledge would be death). Little does he know that this artefact was created for the coronation of kings. He can't be serious?

Two-hundred-eight. Garrace is assigned a quest to search for Vet's Dim. A few days before he's sent out, he meets Dimyr Balabor. They discuss a variety of things such as economy, philosophy, and other things. They talk about Vet's Dim.

"Would that be a valid quest?" Dimyr asked. "It's been scattered about Tetravier."

"Wait, scattered?"

"Yes. Vet's Dim has been shattered into sixteen pieces. It's remains are in Esperia, some town in Anarchintia; it's something like 'Cernas' or 'Curenas'; and somewhere around the Pentasteds.

"So, I must be going," he sighs. "May the winds blow you well, and the waters splash you well."

"Thanks." Garrace attempts not to laugh at how he worded his statement.

First stop: Pentasteds. To quicken the story, he finds the shards. - __FAMILY HISTORY (Beleaker ancestry)__

Garrace: Pharlaine and Henrusha Pharlaine: Terzh IV and Jusila Terzh IV: Terzh III and Vesnti Terzh III: Terzh II and Yrestana Terzh II: Chief Terzh de Beleaker, the Right Minded and Unerta Jussri, daughter of Chief of Xenen-Oick Terzh: Untherz de Gruthe and Gryse Untherz: Prete de Gras and Unknown Prete: Humd de Gras and Princess Threz de Rudne of Doukas tribe Humd: Yther de Gras and Treds Yther: King Judefi de Gras and Queen Dweren Unthetz de Faseir Judefi: Riwc, the Young and Werla de Tryherd Riwc: King Threzh, the First and Queen Swanad