Name:Alum I. Verumvox
Mug: (I agree, they ARE nice)
Sprite: Preferably,
Popoi.
Class: Performer Trainee -> Bard -> Lore Master
Character Skill: Renewal?
Affinity: ___
Personal Fault: Incomprehensible Culture- If Alum played or performed last turn but not this turn, -2 Res/Def.
Personal Skill: Otherworldly Inspiration- Allies targeted by a performance or Play by this unit get to roll for critical again on their next attack if it doesn't crit.
/Personal Skill: Anthem of Many- When Performing or Playing within 3 tiles of 3 or more allies, played-for target(s) gets +5 critical.
/ /Personal Skill: Transcendent Chord- For every ally performed/played for, gain +2 critical. Resets when user criticals.
(Yup, crit-buffing bard. Doubt anyone's gone that route before)
Preferred Stats: Luck, Speed
Weapon Profs: Instrument (E)
Level: 1 (Trainee)
Total Level: 1
HP: 15 (90%)
STR: 2 (0%)
MAG: 3 (50%) [+1]
SKL: 3 (40%) [+1]
LCK: 5 (40%)
DEF: 2 (35%) [+1]
RES: 3 (35%)
SPD: 6 (40%) [+1]
MOV: 4
CON: 3
AID: 2
Bio:Alum...well, Alum was an odd kid. Born in the middle class to some religious folks, he had life well off materially. His mind, though, was something else. He always heard words, songs, that often didn't make sense. Sounds, rhythms, that no instrument has made, even if it could've. Not that they were bad or anything, they were just...different. He knew they weren't really his, but he felt some obligation to let the world hear them. And he sang them. Out loud. Turns out, lyrics about the "cethee of nhu-heork" and it's mental state can brand you a lunatic. Many kids thought he was mad, and his parents could only stand it for a year or so before they left his voice in an orphanage. Not even there was he likable. The songs were his only comfort, yet they were what alienated him from people. Not a single person could appreciate his music.
That is, until one day he had a cold. He was 15 by this point, and had managed to buy a simple lute and learn how to play it. He got the money from a part-time job washing horses, which is how he got sick. Though the cold got worse, his voice was unwavering, singing his heart out despite the increasing pain. At the worst of it, he begrudgingly closed his mouth. The lyrics grown to be so dear to him, despite their meaninglessness...silenced. He thought it would be temporary, but that was when people began to like his music. Unique rhythms, foreign beyond the other side of the world, were what made him. So he thought to never speak a lyric again. Then, people began to ask for the lyrics of the song, the very things that made him just some crazy kid. He was certainly capable of singing them, after all. So, he saw the only solution to THAT problem was to pretend he was mute. Couldn't speak a single word. He could sing, though, but eventually, he stopped doing that, too. He dedicated himself to strings, to brass, to whatever instruments could convey those songs. Now, at but 19 or so he was a silent musician that enthralled with songs that couldn't be heard played by any other bard.
Author
Topic: Fire Emblem on Forums: Shields of Caermo (Read 15169 times)