Avros Suvorek

Biographical information

Birthplace Avelin Born Died Age 29 Home Nomad Sexuality Pronouns

Physical description

Race Aveli Sub-Race Gender Male Height 1.92m Mass Slight, but Muscles Hair color Brown Eye color Hazel Skin color Olive

Political information

Affiliation(s) Occupation Prince[IT STILL COUNTS!] Clan(s) Caste Domain Masters Apprentices Alias(es)

Out-of-character information

Writer Kasim Areth Created on Avatar AI

Born as the Eldest son of Ogrin and Galina Suvorek, Avros is the the Crown Prince of Avelin. A city with intrinsic Cultural ties to Rune Magic Avelin sits in a quadrille of four Kingdoms. Each located upon a string of isles on the end of the Drawa River, the Kingdoms have long lived in peace and cooperation.

A serenity that was unfortunately shattered near a decade ago.

Raised within Avelin from the day he was born, Avros like many of his fellow citizens is an incredibly gifted Rune Mage. He is a well studied journeyman of the runes, and an expert spell-sword at that. Even before the fall of the Kingdoms, Avros often received praise for his diligence, intelligence, and kind nature.

All throughout his coming up, the King and Queen of Avelin were complemented on the nature of their son. His steadfastness often a point of pride for not only his parents, but the nation as a whole. To the eyes of all, the Crown was not only secure, but their Kingdom would be too. The future King not only competent, but truly for his people. A blessing that most in the world could only dream of.

It was fortunes choice, to never let that dream come to pass.

Nearly ten years ago now, Avelin and the other Three Kingdoms succumbed to a rent within the sky. Magics sundered, and their hearts filled with fear, a campaign of terror and war was waged. One by one the quadrille began to fall, each of the Kingdoms taken and burned in turn. An Emperor, his name either forgotten or never spoken, took them piece by piece.

Finishing with Avelin as his crowning jewel. Slaughtering the King and Queen, and sending the young Prince into a panicked flight.

His crown and Kingdom lost, and his people pushed to their knees, Avros spent the next five years in a furious fight against the new Emperor. His every effort pouring into rallying a rebellion. Waging a guerilla war that lasted for half a decade, Avros inflicted plight after plight upon the Emperor, until eventually the Sorcerer himself came down to bare.

Avros' own craft no match for the nameless man, the young Prince was sundered. His armies massacred, and his body dragged broken to the darkest depths of what had once been his own Kingdom. Kept there in the abyss, tortured and abused, until finally he managed to break free.

Finding his home now a very different place, and his people...a shadow of what they had once been.

The City of Runes, as it is called by some, was once a place of culture, art, and magic.

Though now a pale shadow of it's former self, with much of it's history and culture suppressed, the Avelin of old truly was a glorious jewel of civilization. Once the greatest, though not the grandest, of the quadrille, Avelin was the largest of the four Kingdoms. It stood as a sort of bulwark against incursions from the orcs of the blightlands, though each nation helped in it's own way.

Nevertheless, the constant pressure from the Tyrant of Molthal meant Avelin required a way to deal with the press of his oppression. The solution however, was not one of the typical world. Though most would expect the creation of a massive military, Avelin's solution was instead one of learning.

As a culture, the Aveli hold Rune Magic at it's core.

Their very language is structured and built around the old arcanology,. Even their ancient tongue, now rarely spoken, has it's roots within the Runes.

This strange quirk was in effect what allowed Avelin to survive against the tirade of the Tyrant of Molthal. They were in effect a nation not of Citizen Soldiers, but Citizen Sorcerers. Each one with their own gifts, and each one ready to defend their home when necessary.

Rune Magic had once been so engraved in every day life that it was used for nearly every task. Stovetops would often be composed of flame runes drawn with specially charged charcoal, windows were open with runes carved on solid frames of glass. Everything was simple, arcane, and well practiced. Into the very nature of the city itself.

This, of course, is why the Emperors power and decrees are so devastating.

Avelin, once a proud color of the Runes, is now a shadow of its former self. After ten years of grinding opression, a failed rebellion, and the supposed breaking of their Prince the people of Avelin as shadows of themselves. Barely clinging to what little life they have, most appear to be little less than zombies in their day to day life.

Eeking out an existence, for what reason? None of them could say. Their once proud history pushed down, and their heritage pressed as little more than sin.

Once the most treasured possession of all Aveli were their Spell-Blades.

These swords, knives, daggers, spears, and edged weapons of all sorts and styles were a central component to Avelin society. Every single citizen had one of these items, whether they were born in the city, or came to it later. They were a treasured honor of their shared magical tradition, as well as a utilitarian tool.

All Spell-Blades are different and incredibly personal to whomever wields it. A fisherman might carry a large knife for carving his catch, a tailor might make a pair of scissors, and of course a Knight or noble would pick a sword. What bound these blades in similarity was the runes which went into their crafting. Each inscribed and personalized for their wielder, set so intrinsically into the sword that most blades are oft useless for anyone but their creator.

Some of these blades also act as scroll-swords. Their hilts hollowed out and filled with dozens of pages of written runic scrolls. An adaption that was first created some several hundred years ago and wove it's way into Avelin society. The common reason why most Aveli fight one handed. Though some still maintain the use of spell-shields.

The nature of a spell-blade is intrinsically tied to whoever wields it. Their effects and properties can vary wildly. A hunters knife might be particularly good at separating flesh from muscle, while a housewifes cleaver was sure to always find the right socket in a chickens thigh.

Though some spell-blades are simple, their wielder choosing to create only one or two effects, others are far more intricate. It is said that some blades of legends can hold, twist, and even change thousands of runes.