Quenta Daelus

[Quenta]

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Name: Quenta Daelus (pronounced: KENTA DEELUS)

Age: 47

Race: formerly human, now a raven

Physical Description:
Glossy black feathers, beady black eyes, black beak, and black legs. Not a crow, a RAVEN
Averages 63 centimetres (25 inches) in length and 1.2 kilograms (2.6 pounds) in mass


Possessions:
A shiny knife (a Basilard) kept in a hidden, high-up place in the historic district - a place a raven can reach and would live.

The arrow. No. THE arrow. You know, the one that ended is his comfortable human life and heralded the start of his less comfortable, animal lifestyle. Ok, so maybe not the whole arrow, but definitely the arrow head.

Bishani. Stashed and stored with his other prized possession - his friend, Baz, the knife - Quenta has managed over the last 12 years to collect a tidy sum in Bishani, maybe a hundred? maybe more?

Tattered rags. These are what's left of his human clothes and other materials he could find to create as soft a bed as any raven has ever had.

A small chipped bowl.

A rotting pair of battlemage gloves.

A top hat, dirtied and frayed. It's where he keeps his stuff.


Powers or Strengths:
Quenta retains some of his magic in his raven form, but it is seriously reduced in power.

Light: Just what it says - Quenta can caw up a ball of light, approximately the size of a softball. He can create four of these every hour. Each ball lasts for about an hour and is equivalent to a bright, electric light bulb (~60w).

Wing-clap: This comes in a few flavors. The easiest to use is a concussive snap of wings that stuns small creatures - good for breakfast, lunch, and dinner -yum! Also, good for making a getaway from creatures that might decide Quenta looks yummy. The hardest to use is an amplified wind magic. Quenta hovers, flapping his wings and speaks an eldritch word, creating a gust of wind capable of knocking back at least one or two sturdy humans. The downside is he must retreat afterwards to rest.

Weaknesses and Flaws:
Quenta was a human battlemage before being turned into a raven. For the record, Battlemages don't always operate with a full deck, if you know what I mean.

Being turned into a battle mage is a painful process. So is being turned into a raven. Then, having to live as a raven after being a human, well, that will mess with you, too, right? The bugs and carrion... the POOP... the bird mites... And, then, see? His best friend ? It's a talking knife.

Quenta may or may not be a bit of a nutter. He may or may not be distracted by shiny, pretty, sparkly things. He may or may not have a fastidious need to not poop everywhere like the other ravens do. He might also take a perverse delight in pooping on things other people find important. Tuesdays, depend.

Archers. Quenta hates them. Pecking out an archer's eyes is a happy, happy thing and now, Quenta knows how to dive and dip. Given a chance he will probably go for the archer.

Did we mention the part where he used to be human but is now a raven?

History:

PW140 Marn Riots

Quenta lay in a pool of his own blood, furious he’d been bested by something so mundane as an arrow. He inhaled a breath and heard the blood gurgle in his lung. After all he’d been through, the trial with Belatucadrus, fighting for his place in the pecking order of the Battle mages, and now, this!

I can help you.

Quenta gave a bitter laugh. Blood dribbled from his mouth. And, now he was hearing things. Damned historic ruins. They should raze the whole area and salt the land. Quenta's closed his eyes and rested his head back.

I can help you.

Quenta cracked his eyes open. His head had lolled to the side and something glowed in his peripheral vision.

Come to me. I can help you.

Oh, fine. If he was going to die, why not die crazy? Quenta grinned with blood stained teeth and rolled his body over. Forcing himself to stand, he left behind the pool of blood and moved toward the softly glowing light. Collapsing to his knees, he began digging toward the source of the light. Finally, he found a raven headed dagger, wrapped in decaying cloth.

Quenta's eyes widened and he inhaled a sharp breath- a mistake. The coughing fit was rough. Blood splattered the blade and stained the fabric.

"Ow." Quenta felt dizzy. Opening his eyes didn't fix the problem, either. In fact, except for the light of the blade, no the Raven Basilard, he'd found (or did it find him?) things seemed darker. Quenta reached for the blade.

"I know what you are..." Quenta'd heard the rumors.

Good. You help me. Take me from here. Help me find my kin and I will save your life.

Quenta's fingers wrapped around the hilt of the blade, but he crumpled. The blade's voice still sounded in Quenta's head, but he wasn't really listening anymore.

"... 45 years.. a new form...

"Just do it!"

The next thing Quenta knew the pain of dying was much more pleasant than what he was experiencing now. The scream of pain was inhuman. Once before, Quenta had screamed like that, but the sound had still been his voice. Now...


"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw! CAW CAW CAW!"

A raven's harsh call echoed loudly within the ruins.


~~~~~~~~~~

Who he was doesn't matter. With the decision to accept the Basilard's offer, Quenta was reborn a raven with a human's mind and a small amount of magical powers.

[Saruna]

Sure you don't want more powers? Raven-esque strengths? If not, approved. :p