Cirval Kyr

(Just as an aside, I'm going to eventually flesh out the last half of the Backstory, the part after he leaves Ruto, but I would consider this finished enough to be graded. I wanted to get this done and posted so I could start RPing, and it felt like it was never going to end. So, yeah, wanted to who ever is reading this know that.)

Name:
Cirval Kyr

Age:
39

Gender:
Male

Race:
Rito

Place of Origin:
Dragon Roost Island

PWC:

Pre extra: Power 1, Wisdom 1, Courage 2
(1/1/2)

Final: Power 2, Wisdom 2, Courage 4
(2/2/4)

Treasures:

Racial:

Valiance
Winged Flight

Bought:
Total rupees at start: 120

30 rupees – Hawkeye
35 rupees – Water-Walking
40 rupees – Needle Storm

Total rupees at end: 10

Height:
5’4”

Weight:
103 pounds

Equipment:

Mounted armblades:
The blades are attached to a mechanical gauntlet that straps on around the forearm, with the blades sitting over the top of the arm. The gauntlets come to about 2-3 inches below where Cirval’s wings attach to his arms. The bottom third of the blade itself has teeth that fit into gears, and is slightly wider than the rest, so the top two thirds of the blade are thin enough to slide past the gears without touching them. An L-shaped grip extends forward from the gauntlets, and rest across the palm. A locking button on the end of the palm section of the grip can be toggled with the thumb, and when the lock is depressed, the gears cease to move, even if pressure grip is held. By squeezing the pressure grip, you cause the gears to move freely. Gravity takes effect and the blades slide down until the grip is released, or the lock is pressed.

Though from wear the entire contraption looks to be over forty years old, through constant maintenance Cirval has kept it in excellent condition. The blades have a dull shine to them, and the leather of the gauntlet still has some spring.

Attire:
Cirval wears a plain black tunic, light and free flowing enough for his agile nature. Around his neck, he wears a pendant of simple ruby, given to him by Ellie.

Appearance:

Cirval chose the life of a mercenary, and his physical appearance mirrors that. Scars from past battles cover his body, from faded bruises to impressive gash marks. A long, prominent scar runs from above to below his left eye, while another runs from his right ear down to the corner of his mouth. His hair, a sandy blond, is often kept tied in a tight ponytail. It falls roughly between his shoulder blades, near the start of his spine. His beak is basically the same as Quills from The Wind Waker, sloped and hooked. Often his face is held in a tight, emotionless state, stemming from his understanding that though life is precious, there are always some things must be destroyed. His skin is a light brown, similar to the color of caramel, due to his long hours spent in the desert sun.
Years of fighting has toned his body into a beautiful and dangerous weapon. Sleek muscles cover his arms and chests, and well toned abs pop from his stomach. While lacking sheer, raw strength, Cirval makes up with his impressive agile skill. Due to his amazing muscle control, Cirval can flip and dodge with ease, often surprising foes with his deftness.

Personality:

Cirval is, in a nut shell, a stern but fair individual. He’s willing to give any but the most dishonorable a chance, believing there is good in almost all creatures, though he understands that some are beyond help, and death is their freedom. Though he can, and usually does, come across as harsh upon first meetings, most come to find a just and honorable warrior lurking within his heart.

Cirval is very reclusive when it comes to his feelings. Generally, he chooses to keep them locked within, knowing the dangers of letting someone close to his heart. Through his life, Cirval has watched many brave and valiant comrades fall, and knows all too well the pain of holding a valued friend as they died.

Of course, this isn’t to say Cirval is a complete stick in the mud. Those that are lucky enough to travel with him know of his greatest weakness: Alcohol. Get a few pints into him, and you’ll see his hard exterior melt away. Of course, too much, and it can push him right over the edge, something that’s happened only once.

Often Cirval speaks little. Not because he is shy, but because he is always thinking and listening to what others are saying. When he does, he evokes attention with ease, and is known for his straightforward plans.

Residence:
Cirval is currently traveling across Hyrule Field, living out of a small tent.

Backstory:

(A -- --------------- line denotes a change from present time to past. It starts in the present.)

Thump. Thump. Thump.
Cirval’s feet slapped softly as he ran, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. He could see her in the distance. A few more feet, and he’d be able to make out her face. A few more feet, and he’d finally know…
Cirval’s eyes opened slowly.
He let out a sigh. I was so close…
These dreams were beginning to unnerve him. They had started out as an oddity, a treat every now and again. Now, they plagued his mind, swirling around like leaves caught in a current.

-----------------

Cirval never really knew his mother. She had gotten quite sick when he was barely three years old. “Fire fever” they called it. The smoke and heat from the volcano within Dragon Roost weakened her, and slowly caused hallucinations, until a simple cold, or a basic infection could prove fatal, and she was too delirious to realize it.

His father told him stories about her, gave him bits and pieces of her existence. Gave Cirval proof that his mother had lived, some tangible facts to hold on to.
Her name was Ellynel.
She loved fireflower and hated bombweed.
Her hair was a sandy blonde, like his.
She worked as a weaponsmith, owning a small forge deep within Dragon Roost.
She loved to tinker and invent, a trait she picked up from her husband.
She loved Cirval until the day she died.

-----------------

Cirval counted these facts off on his finger, lulling himself back to sleep. Maybe this time, he thought, I’ll see her face.

-----------------

Like all Rito, Cirval grew up on Dragon Roost Island. He was alone with his father, as the first and only child of the family. His father, Seine, was a strong, if quiet; man, but his wife’s death had hit him quite hard. Cirval would sometimes find his father staring wistfully at the mountain, his mother’s journal clutched in his hand. He hated the island. He hated that it had taken his beloved from him, that there was no way to save her from it. But it was their home, and they needed it. Seine was an engineer, an inventor of sorts. He created useful gadgets, often for the mailmen of the race. It was, obviously, a niche market. Seine knew only how to create things Rito would need, lacking enough understanding of the other races to branch out. For the good of his son, Seine grudgingly accepted that they were trapped on the island.

Apart from his mother’s death, Cirval lived a relatively normal childhood. He tried not to miss her. It wasn’t that it was hard, considering he had barely a memory of her. But sometimes, it felt like a part of his life was missing, a part that he needed. Seine tried to be a normal father around Cirval, wanting to give his son the best childhood he could. But Seine could only provide so much for Cirval.

Fortunately, it was during the first few years of his childhood that Cirval met two of the most influential people in his life. Two people who would remain his friends long after he had gone from his home.

The first was a boy, a year Cirval’s senior, named Jacte. Jacte was the son of one of the islands only armoursmiths, and often accompanied his father to their forge to apprentice. Seine worked close with the smiths in his creation of equipment for his customers, and frequently had to bring Cirval along. Thus, the two boys often spent the day together, entertaining each other so the adults could work. These days in the forge created a bond between the boys, and as they grew, they became nigh inseparable. They promised each other that they would remain best friends for as long as they lived. It was with Ject that Cirval had climbed Dragon Roost Mountain and obtained his scale.

The second was a young girl, two years Cirval’s junior, named Ellie. Her family was descended from a long line of mailmen, but Ellie’s passion was music. She longed to travel Hyrule, singing legends of old. Unfortunately, her father would have none of this. He told her she was to carry on the family tradition, that these were ridiculous dreams entertained by a child’s mind. One day, he told her, she would grow up and see it as he did. Resentfully, Ellie relented, and while music remained a passion of hers, she spent much of her time during the day learning all she’d need to know as a mail carrier. At night, in an act of defiance, Ellie would often sneak out when her father had fallen asleep to practice her music.
It was during one of these nights that she and Cirval became the best of friends. He had snuck out that night, unable to sleep. As he walked along the beach, he could hear the faint sound of a lyre from above. Sitting on a cliff overlooking the sea, Ellie was completely enveloped in her music. Cirval crept closer, never moving his eyes from her. He had always found Ellie beautiful. Cirval had spoken to her once or twice, but his nerves always crushed any chance of having a normal conversation. He would often end up saying something embarrassing, and then scurry off in mortification. Ellie would just giggle as she watched the Rito hurry away, shaking her head at the silliness of the boy. The silliness she loved.
As she played, Ellie would sing softy, songs of love, songs of escape, songs of longing. She would become so absorbed in her music that the world around her disappeared. Cirval sat and listened, hypnotized by the Rito’s gentle voice.
As she finished her song, Cirval took a chance. “That’s quite the beautiful voice you have Ellie.”

The girl froze.

“Who’s there?” As no answer came, Ellie took a chance and slowly looked out over the edge of the cliff. Her heart jumped a beat as she realized who it was.
“Cirval?”
“Aye, it’s me.” He looked away as he replied, trying to keep his nerves together. Ellie began to descend from her perch. “What are you doing here? You scared me!”
“I-I couldn’t sleep. I took a walk, needed to clear my head.” She was a few feet from him now, and Cirval could feel his heart beating fast.
Ellie cocked her head at him. She could tell he was avoiding her gaze.
“You know, it’s a bit dangerous out here, and a girl always needs a knight in shining armor to protect her.” She winked at Cirval, and he smiled. The two of them began to laugh, and Ellie could see she had broken through the boy’s shyness.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

On Cirval’s twentieth birthday, his father decided it was time they escaped from the island Seine had grown to loath. He knew a watchmaker, down in Ruto. The two packed their essential belongings and said their goodbyes. Cirval promised Jacte and Ellie that he would be back, and he would write to them any chance he got. Ellie tried her best not to cry, while Jacte, with the sadness in his eyes, told his friend not to forget about them. As they boarded the boat that would take them as far as the northern shore of the Tantari Desert, Cirval felt a very sudden and very painful pang in his stomach. He knew he wouldn’t see his home, or his friends, for a very long time.

The two flew through the northern reaches of the desert, stopping often for water. After growing up near a volcano, it wasn’t the heat that tired Cirval so quickly; it was the lack of water in the air, the intense dryness. They stopped to make camp often, anywhere they could find shade. Other than arriving a few days later than planned, the two made it to Ruto without any real problem.
Cirval found the desert to be an odd place for a watchmaker to work. The wind seemed to blow constantly, and there were always tiny bits of sand and dust covering his exterior. Making watches in this environment would be hell. But anytime Cirval brought this up with his father, the old Rito just gave him a mischievous look, and told the boy he would understand once they arrived.
Cirval could not believe his eyes when he first saw the splendor of Ruto. From above, the town sparkled like a crystal made of sand. The water of the oasis was a crystal blue, clean and clear as can be. They landed just outside of town, and walked through to watchmaker’s house.

The watchmaker, Zern, was a bespectacled Hylian, living alone in his workshop. He had heard of Seine through a Rito Seine had once worked with back on Dragon Roost. In his waning years, Zern had become painfully aware of his old age, and decided it was time to hire an assistant. Seine, always eager to escape their island, jumped at the offer he received in the mail. Zern promised the Rito he was free to use the watchmaker’s resources if he still wished to tinker and invent on the side, and, if he so wished, could bring his son along with him.
After the two had settled in, Cirval’s father realized that without something to occupy his son’s time, Cirval would just get himself into trouble. So he took the boy aside, and told him he could choose any job in town, as long as he was committed. Cirval knew his father wouldn’t rush him, so that afternoon he went out for a stroll through the business district. He looked at many stores and workshops, and when he returned to his father, Cirval knew exactly what he wanted to do. The young Rito excitedly told Seine he was going to follow in his mother’s footsteps and become a blacksmith. As excited as Seine was for his child, he feared that this path would take his son from him, much like it took his wife.

Over the next year, the Rito practiced not only his smithing skills, but his combat skills too. With the ability to forge his own weapons, Cirval became fluent with anything he could get his hands on. And as his body had already become sleek and muscular from the long hours spend forging his weapons, the practice and toning of muscles was easy for the Rito. Though not as strong as the Hylian boys who lived in Ruto, Cirval was definitely more dexterous. And so this was his life for a year, until the attack. Cirval first knew something was awry when his father failed to return from his monthly trip to Kakariko Village. At first the Rito assumed he had merely made an extra stop, or the caravan wagon had broken a wheel, even that his father had slept in and missed the caravan. As the days continued to pass with a sign of him though, Cirval began to worry. Many had not had word from the western villages for quite a few days. Finally, after a week had passed, Cirval decided that he would look for his father the next day, and maybe ease the worries of the other families who were missing loved ones. As he slipped into sleep, Cirval wondered what exactly was going on out there.

The first think Cirval heard when he woke up was the sound of screams and the clang of steel. From downstairs, he could hear the terrified screams of Zern. Grabbing his sword and buckler, Cirval raced down the stairs just in time to see a moblin run his spear through Zern’s gut. With a frenzied scream, the Rito jumped onto the startled monster, barely giving the beast time to register the sword that was now protruding from its throat. The moblin fell to its side, futilely gasping for air. Adrenaline pumping, Cirval carried not about the monster as he rushed to the watchmaker’s side. He grabbed the man by the shoulders and looked into his eyes.
“Zern, are you okay? Please, talk to me!”
Too weak to speak, all the dying Hylian could do was point to a box under his desk, before he passed. Tears forming at the corners of his eyes, Cirval crawled over to the box, the sound of death and destruction still ringing outside. Inside the box, the Rito found a pair of small gauntlet-like blade contraptions, as well as instructions on how to use them, written in his mother’s handwriting. He was shocked. How could something written by his mother have ended up here? Looking down again, he realized he recognized the box. His father had brought only one thing with him to Ruto, a small, carefully sealed box. Something slammed hard against the door behind him, so with no time to question, or investigate, Cirval strapped the gloves to his arms. They fit him perfectly. Rather than chance being ambushed outside, Cirval raced to the upstairs balcony. When he looked outside, he saw hell. The city was burning, men were being slaughtered in the streets as they bought their families time to run. There were moblins and stalfos everywhere, hacking down Hylians in gleeful delight.
Without thinking, the Rito jumped off the balcony, driving his blades into the neck of a moblin poised to strike at a mother and child. He pulled out the blades out, and took off for the gates, cries of thanks echoing behind him.

The town soldiers were bravely fending off waves of attackers, providing a means of escape for the ones who could not fight. With each attack though, more soldiers fell, and the lines of defense were beginning to break. Cirval knew he had to run. He may have killed two of the monsters himself, but both were taken by surprise. He was no soldier, and he definitely was no hero. As the soldiers dying cries rang in the square, Cirval ran, tears in his eyes, fleeing like a coward.

The survivors made it to Rauru in good time, quick enough to warn the citizens of the attack. It was also here that Cirval learned the fate of Kakariko Village. With a lump in his throat, he imagined his father fighting to the death, protecting complete strangers and friends alike. Cirval wondered if had known his son would run like a scared little boy. He thought about all those people that didn’t make it, and wondered if his help could have made a difference. Maybe, he thought to himself, maybe it could have. I’ll never know now.

The survivors of Ruto and the citizens of Rauru moved out quickly. The mayor had decided the best course of action was to head southeast, to the Eastern Caves. Though neither side liked it, this allowed for the preservation of both races. Cirval, with no were else to go, went with the refugees. Once there, he enlisted as a warrior, proving himself through arduous training and difficult battle. Cirval had promised to himself, after he had run from Ruto, that he would prove to himself that he was not a coward. He received many of his scars during this time, including the two on his face. Though he was skilled, there were many times where Cirval would have died if it had not been for his allies. Many strong friendships where created between Cirval and the guardsmen, and many of his friends died protecting the Eastern Caves.

When the Rito heard that the Hylians were preparing to retake Ruto, he signed up immediately. He would travel with the party heading to Ruto, providing any protection he could. Several of the guard implored him to stay, to continue protecting the caves. As much as Cirval wanted to, he had a reason to leave. It had been fourteen years since the Rito had set foot upon his island home. And he had made a promise that he would come back. He could easily fly from Ruto to Dragon Roost, and that was exactly his plan. So he bid his friends adieu, promising them this was not the last time they would meet, and set forth with the refugees headed to Ruto. The group slipped completely unseen, the guards only encountering a roaming sentry or two. The village of Ruto was empty when they arrived, much to the relief of the refugees. As the builders set to work repairing the war torn settlement, Cirval patrolled with the guard, watching for any ominous movement from the south.

As soon as he knew the village was safe and secure, Cirval took his leave. Leaving the same parting message as he did with those in the Eastern Caves, Cirval took flight, and headed north. It took him longer than he expected, but the years of fighting had given his arms the same strength years of flying would have. Unfortunately, the Rito’s trip was in vain. When he arrived at the island, he was met with disbelief. The Rito had heard about Ganon’s attacks, and had assumed Cirval and his father dead. When he questioned about Jacte and Ellie, he was told both had left the island years before, each on a separate path. Jacte was headed north to Darunia, while Ellie was headed first to Castle-Town, then Nabooru. Cirval thanked them, and made preparations to leave. Secretly, he was disgusted by his people. They sat safe and hidden on their island while the people of the mainland either died or lived in fear of Ganon. He knew that he was more man than any of these Rito could be. Cirval, eager to find his friends and father, left that night, carrying a small tent, and a pack of supplies.

-----------------

Cirval curled up on the floor of his tent, pitched upon the mainland just south of Dragon Roost. While he needed to return to Ruto to retrieve the rest of his belongings, the dream of his mother prompted thoughts about the others. Jacte, Ellie. And his father. He had heard whispers that refugees from Kakariko Village were hiding in the Western Caves. So, now he had three destinations, but he wasn’t sure which one to pick first.

+1 to Courage for becoming a Moderator.