Legacy of Djemidor Viridius

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Kaz
Posts: 6
Character: Djemidor Viridius

Legacy of Djemidor Viridius

Post by Kaz » November 2nd, 2022, 4:08 pm

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Djemidor Viridius

The truth is like the sun; You can shut it out, for a while. But it ain't goin' away.
- Elvis Presley

[[ Most spoilers redacted, but minor ones below - read at your own risk. DO NOT METAGAME! ]]

Tree Of Life - Orchestral

Full Name: Djemidor Viridius
Birthdate: Greengrass, 14th
Birthplace: Greatport, Eastern Baronies. Mixed Heritages.
Birthsign: The Moon


Appearance
Age: Early Twenties.
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 160-170 lbs.
Eyes: Silvery Blue.
Hair: Wiry black hair, part in the middle.
Skin: Slightly pale with a few touches of a tan around the collar.
Handedness: Left.
Posture: Alternating between slumped at the shoulders and upright.
Hygiene: Meticulously clean, with a soft smell of pulps from a vat.
Scent: A faint bit of herbs coupled with the smell of old books, and a bit of fox.

Physical Description: Looking rather on the young side, Djemidor stands at five-foot-eight and approximately a hundred and seventy pounds. He sports short black hair that is tied ever so neatly into a small ponytail that rests at the nape of his neck, with green eyes that shyly look out and around at the world. His facial features are rather soft, with a rounded chin but a pointed nose and upturned eyes. There is a book that is gently hooked into a satchel on his belt that has smatterings of writings of notes made during the limited interference interactions with the concepts of Vivateus.

Despite being reportedly in his early twenties, this young man could probably pass for a late teenager.

Also could definitely use a sandwich. He's very skinny, and small framed.


Brief Historical Overview

A young man born in the throes of Greatport in the Midlands, Djemidor enjoyed a rather simple upbringing as something of a crybaby-having been the youngest out of six siblings. His mother and father were but simple librarians that housed one of the many sources of knowledge in the region, and were very hardcore Republic fanatics. Early on in his life, he had been known as something of a scrawny sort, having come home constantly from being beaten up by the bigger kids in the streets. Which led him to develop a very mild stutter in his speech when stressed. Still, his parents taught him everything that their home-the library-had come to offer. A lot of things on ancient tales of yore before the founding of the Republic, and much of the history in places that had been conquered such as Ostenam and many others.

Having grown up some, a young Djemidor had found that the books had been his only friends. Secret from his parents, he had picked up a few tricks that would help him later in life: The application of substances that would render his childhood bullies blind, among a few other tips and tricks of the trade. A few times, books seemed to come to him with strange writings-especially from years ago, that he could never have found for himself in the tutelage of the library. After coming of age, he had been sent throughout some of the Midlands to try and conduct personal interview notes with the remnants of various cultures.


Some of whom had already been scattered by the Torment that continues to ravage the face of the known world.

Trait Overview
General Health: Very clean, very well kept, bathes frequently, definitely underweight.
Profession: Scribe, Scholar, Historian.
Faction Affiliation: N/A
Languages: Almost Tri-Lingual, with Common, Yultish, and a bit of Eastern.
Accent: Has a stutter, but no discernible accent. It seems he tries to keep himself as concise as possible.
Roleplay Tools: A notebook for keeping notes in and a quill for it, with a bag slung over his shoulder.

Hobbies: Feeding foxes in the Province, dealing with animals, interviewing for books, reading in libraries.
Habits: Fidgeting, shifting where he stands, telling rather dry jokes, and smiling awkwardly and/or shyly.

History: You can write about your character's publicly known history here. Feel free to redact any secrets.

Strengths: Idealistic, Friendly, Intelligent, Orderly, Honest.
Weaknesses: Cowardly, Inhibited, Shy, Naive, Uncertain.

Governing Virtue: Honesty.
Governing Throne: Cowardice.

Kaz
Posts: 6
Character: Djemidor Viridius

Re: Legacy of Djemidor Viridius

Post by Kaz » March 26th, 2023, 10:23 pm

From the Heart, to the Mind, to the Page...


How real are the relationships I have? Is my path wrong? Where can I go? What can I do?

Time since coming to the Province has been a blur. I've learned much, been exposed to the same cold sort of feeling that's rendered so many numb to death and despair. The depression and avarice in this place are deeply ingrained, and the Republic's treatment of it's own people has made it obvious where the direction seems to go. But here I am, in a place that I only intended to study and embroiled in a bystander in a history I will never be able to affect or change. What keeps me tethered to some measure of sanity, even as my social skills suffer greatly, is the feeling of being able to help others.

Pharmacology, scribe-work, bookmaking, alchemical practice. Being an assistant to Constantine and being a regular to many establishments. Becoming a rather odd sort of demolitions expert that's most certainly made others lose their eyebrows with all the tested variations of concoctions. My life of living in a library and being a historian is simultaneously rewarding me with experience and causing me to suffer; Those who I am able to help look at me strangely when I speak plainly. Those who see my social skills as mere sophistry or sycophancy take them at face value. Only two up to this point, two who have vehemently denied their feelings for each other, have really gotten to see. Three, but that man was no longer among the number of the Province.

The man suffers not for his own hubris, but for the role in the story he is creating for himself: Someone who continually making the mistakes and becoming a villain-though this is the farthest from the truth. He is someone who continually gives, and creates a warm place for people to stay. The Risk he has made softened the blow of being unable to leave the Province, and now seeks to make it's last day a Revel. A Revel that I am unsure about, and it upsets him when my feeling about it was put forth. The man, who by his own definition is a Meddler in things.

The woman's heart proved itself to be a thing of compassion, of hope, of intricate works. But she toils away, and some nights when I watch her from my usual route and shenanigans-sometimes it feels that she is lonely. I can never tell her anything of my own mind, my own heart or confide in her like she does with the man who holds her close. In my own way, I'm afraid of her. I've found a reason to be afraid, and the fault does not lie with her alone. My own thinking is the anomaly here, my common sense far different from what is considered the standard. The one aspect that keeps me polite and cordial, even maintaining an ease of friendship with this woman still remains guarded.

But it is hardly her fault; No, it is mine.

I am no believer in the Church, nor Decus.

I believe in a hope of things that maybe something is watching out for us. Simultaneously, it is also my belief that Mankind has made itself a thing to be feared in the Heavens, the Earth, and what may lie Below.

The Inquisition is to march on Redholme, and I fear that I know what's to come-history repeating itself once again. The slaying of another Archbishop, the death of another Archmage, the doubling down on the Authority that this new Church and new figureheads claim to possess. The push to eradicate any doubt or "Ill" in the Republic so harshly that things buckle to the point of breaking. Should that happen, would we simply just be left in the Province? If someone claims faith as Authority, why would they not make the ultimate ploy to take the lost city of Tor by the blades of thousands more Inquisitors or Templars, and continue their reign of terror?

It would only cement what they feel is true. This Inquisition is not a force to be fought, but a narrative device aiming to continue a story in the darkness without a ray of hope and calling it a prelude. Which, fundamentally, strikes me as a fellow author as useless and uninspired. But again, what can I do? I am one man, not of a Faction any longer since departing the Black Suns. Departing Bidukan's rather spartan methods and ideology, with little skill and ability to back anything up.

I am not of any Prelacy, last I checked. Just a man in my twenties with a handful of books and a few ingredients to make the walking dead explode.

...Nemone, Lemidrev, Faridah... It is not something that I have ever hidden from other people but I have five other siblings. My mother being a Midlander named Danaeska, and my father an Easterner named Vederick. But may this new journal I start be a small modicum of my thoughts. I love you all; Hopefully we can see each other again. One day. That's my hope.

Know that your youngest sibling is but an observer under the Moon. None of my findings will amount to anything, nor will I even be a pawn in the things to come. Should the day come, maybe someone will look at my writings and...

...Make one less mistake. Alas, my cowardice and my ability to be honest is wasted here. The only constant in the Province is a set of fanatics. The main difference is that they all have different sets of books.

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