{ spare change } • DNP

[Micki.]

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based in arlind.

tryout for okahui's kalon readoption, please do not post!! everything here is mine unless otherwise stated, I hope you enjoy the form <3

also the character I've created has a strong connection to (a fictional) religion and at some points he may make comments about religions being idiotic, etc., but it does not reflect my personal beliefs and it's not intended to offend at all. I believe that everyone has the right to their own opinions and beliefs, so please don't take offense to anything negative / overly religious that may be in the writing!! tysm for your understanding

navigation will be added after I section out the thread and figure out organization

[Micki.]

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♥
Izar Woode • 32 • male • Cai native

⤷ referred to as "Izar the Priest" in Cai
⤷ known as "Izar the Wicked" elsewhere





alignment: chaotic good
orientation: pansexual

⤷ slight preference for masculine personalities, but actual gender doesn't factor in
occupation: traveling wicked

⤷ priests of the Caishi faith are referred to as wickeds and are known by most of Arlind as evil, dark magic wielders. however,
they generally only use "light magic," a form of healing magic generated from the life of Arlind's earth / plants ( most commonly using trees, as they are abundant in Cai ). wickeds get their power from the vow that they make to their gods, none are inherently magic wielders and if they forsake their faith they can no longer use magic.
currently residing in: Rendin

height: 6ft 4in
weight: 212 lbs

Izar became a traveling wicked because he wanted to help those that were not of the Caishi faith and those that could not afford to travel in order to see a wicked. He believes that there are enough wickeds in his country and rarely visits home, preferring instead to spend his days healing the rest of Arlind. He has been traveling in Rendin for the last five years ago, arriving there just months after the Rendin ban on wickeds was lifted, finally making him able to help them.

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[Micki.]

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Despite his gruff and intimidating appearance, Izar is an incredibly kind hearted individual who does his absolute best to help those in need. He is always willing to listen to someone's problems and even more willing to help them solve their problems. All concern for his own well-being dissipates during a crisis and he will gladly rush to the aid of others without second thought. It's rare to see anyone with such a passion for protecting and helping others. Children seem to be his biggest soft spot, often leading him to perform little magic shows for them. He can also be found giving away most of the money that he may happen upon, preferring to lend a hand to those that need it more than him. Izar firmly believes that everyone should be treated fairly and kindly.

As compassionate as he is, Izar can also be quite fearsome towards those that deserve it. He has little to no patience for those that would harm, steal from or oppress others. Often times he can be found lurking around in the company of these bad men, only to thwart their bad intentions at every turn possible. He has an incredible amount of disdain for most authority figures and takes pleasure in undermining their authority. Izar treasures his freedom as well as letting others have freedom to be themselves. In his mind, communities should band together to govern themselves and deal with their problems as opposed to having law officers or governors, who he feels generally don't have their communities' best interest at heart. He has been known to help prisoners escape when he feels that their actions were just, freeing many a thief who stole to help another. Wherever he travels, Izar takes the law of the area as more of a suggestion, sticking to it only if he feels it is just and only if he doesn't need to break it in order to help someone. Any law prohibiting gambling or drinking will always be broken, however, as they are two of his favorite past times.

Izar is a highly adventurous, independent person with an inability to stay in one place. He has always been the sort of person that needed to be up and doing things, racing around and discovering new places. As he gets older, his wanderlust and adventurous spirit only grow stronger and he has even more trouble sitting still than ever before. One of the greatest pleasures in life, in his honest opinion, is the ability to see the world and experience different types of cultures and people. Just the prospect of going somewhere new makes him giddy. He relies on no one else and instead prefers to do things his own way, making it especially easy to travel and adventure by himself.

Somehow he always seems to find a spot of trouble on his adventures, making it a good thing that he can think on his feet. He may also go looking for trouble, largely depending on his mood. Whenever he is upset over something, a rage boils up and he will go out in search of a fight. This often leads him to taverns where he partakes in a good ol' brawl and it can even lead him to go after a person that he believes to be a bad person. Such decisions are due largely to an impulsive nature. His impulsiveness combines with his inability to express his feelings appropriately to create potentially catastrophic results. Izar is less likely to pick fights whenever he is around close friends, as he feels as though he can open up to them which in turn helps settle the anger. He is also prone to outbursts of rage whenever he sees someone committing an injustice, especially towards another person.

Compared to most, Izar is quite the cynic, though he prefers the term "realist." It may seem strange that he is so overtly cynical considering how warm and caring he is, and often times people don't know that he has such a negative outlook. Generally, it's not until someone befriends him that they realize how skeptical he is. He has been all over the world and he has witnessed countless cruelties, small and large. While he is hopeful that people will learn to be kind and understanding, he has seen many individuals that make him doubt it. He believes that most of Arlind are motivated by selfish interest and he has a fairly strong distrust of people's intentions. Sometimes he meets others that prove that there are kind, generous souls out there, and he loves it. Nothing makes Izar happier than having someone prove his cynical beliefs wrong.

He isn't a fan of a lot of religions, making it seem strange that he is a priest. However, Caishi is a very calm, understanding religion with emphasis on helping others. Even with the more relaxed nature of his chosen religion, Izar has a very complex relationship with his faith. While the religion calls for understanding and personal freedom, especially where individual worship is concerned, he has found that most within the faith aren't as understanding. A lot of others believe that there is strictly one way to follow the teachings of Caishi and anything else is unacceptable. Despite being a wicked, Izar has a very different way of following the religion and a different take on it than most. While he likes to believe in the aspects of kindness and harmony with other life within the teachings, the teachings also call for a strict sense of duty from all wickeds. Sometimes the strict sense of duty required feels too restricting for him, and he may frequently choose to ignore or lessen it. Being a Caishi priest gave Izar a sense of purpose and acceptance that he needed and still does at times, but the strength of his connection to the gods and teachings fluctuates, often leaving him with little connection at all to those aspects. As a result, he can feel quite hypocritical at times which can upset or anger him.

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[Micki.]

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habits ＆ quirks:

⤷ flips a coin between his fingers when nervous
⤷ sometimes narrates his actions in song
⤷ sits on the edge of every well he comes across
⤷ wishes upon every shooting star he sees
⤷ tends to snap his fingers when lost in thought
⤷ always offers food and money to bards
⤷ obsessed with bards and loves meeting them
⤷ fills in all potholes he comes across on roads
⤷ gambles the first night he gets into a new town
⤷ always marks his path through wooded areas
other:

⤷ afraid of large bodies of water
⤷ hates eating sweets of any kind
⤷ vegetarian, believes all life is precious
⤷ has a collection of stones from all over Arlind
⤷ the smell of peppermint always makes him sick
⤷ hands are almost never steady
⤷ always fumbles to undo buttons
⤷ hates misconceptions about his religion / magic
⤷ feels most at home in small, heavily rural villages
⤷ can cheat really well at most card games

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[Micki.]

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▬ { the making of a priest } ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

A young man stood at the foot of a temple, eyes squinted towards the very top.

Izar laughed quietly to himself as he stared up, unable to imagine a world in which anything could force him to become a believe. Much less one in which he would be joining the many men standing atop the temple at this moment, being ushered into the priesthood. How could someone devote their lives to such a silly concept as religion? To give up one's freedom was appalling to him and giving it up to become a wicked? Surely there was nothing more idiotic.

People would soon flock to the temple to watch those men take their vows and become wickeds. It seemed ridiculous to him that anyone should care at all, but he seemed to be the only one. Nearly everyone in the capital would be standing where he stood, looking on, in only half an hour. There were some that had even traveled from distant villages on the outskirts of the country just to be a spectator for the vent. Some traveled from farther still, coming from Cai's islands or even other nations.

'Why?' the young man thought, bitterly shaking his head as he continued on his way. Certain things, he supposed, would forever remain a mystery to him. Usually that thought bothered him, not knowing something. Today, however, concerning religion, it was absolutely no bother. In fact, Izar even felt a bit glad for it, 'Religion is for the weak-minded whose only desire in life is to follow.'

As he neared the small cottage he called home, a stranger stood in the doorway of a neighboring home. It seemed strange that his neighbor would have someone over this early, and stranger still that she wasn't making her way to the temple. She was a very devout woman with little else to do with her time but sleep and pray. Still, she was a good woman and he was fond of her. The closer he got, the better look at the stranger he got. A man, large even compared to Izar, a nasty sort of scar across his face.

"Woode?" the stranger called out as the gap between the two began closing.

Izar shook his head a bit, the stranger was clearly a foreigner, "You'll have to be more specific, friend. Around here nearly everyone is a Woode." He approached the other man, his curious nature getting the better of his skepticism. Surely the man was just here delivering something from another kingdom, and Izar wanted desperately to know what that something was. "What's your name, then? Where are you from, exactly, and what have you brought?"

"Corden of Rendin, here to deliver a letter to one," the man looked down at something scrawled on a small piece of parchment, "Tenia Woode." He extended a hand to shake. After just a split second later, the name that Corden had spoken registered with Izar. When he spoke he sounded almost as shocked as he was. "Tenia Woode? That's my mother. We live just across the road, there," Izar extended his finger towards the small cottage. Corden seemed equally surprised at the new information.

Being the friendly sort, he invited the stranger over to the cottage and sat down with him for a bit. They talked a lot about Corden's specific duties as the courier for a king, which Izar secretly thought were atrocious. He couldn't imagine being under the thumb of someone like that, though he did suppose it afforded plenty of opportunity to travel. Soon his mother came in from her garden where she had been harvesting spices. Upon seeing Corden she nearly jumped, but was quick to offer hospitality, "Oh, dear! Well I simply must brew some tea!" The three sat and drank tea, talking a great deal before the stranger finally took his leave. Corden was sure to gift them with a few fine items, including a bottle of fine sugar, that he had on him, as way of thanks. Tenia was quick to try the sugar, spooning some of it into her tea as soon as the door closed.

The next morning, Izra awoke to find his mother cold. Poison, the healers said.

At first, he was in complete disbelief. 'He had just been a royal courier,' Izar insisted, 'only a royal courier.' What motive could he have had for poisoning his mother? She'd never said a bad word about someone, much less wrong them. Was it even possible that someone had wanted her dead? How could it be? How? Surely it wasn't true. There could be no reason anyone should have wished harm upon his lovely mother. 'None,' he thought firmly, 'none at all. And you're the one to blame for not seeing it.'

Slowly, the tears started to come. He sat in the center of the cottage looking at the empty chair in front of him. Somehow, she was gone. There was nothing where only last night she had been and it was too much. Izar managed to lift himself from his seat despite his legs feeling a great deal like lead, and he trudged to his room before collapsing on the bed. If he never moved again, it would be too soon. Quietly he lay there, curled up like a child, for days.

Knock, knock.

His eyes fluttered open at the sound of a fist on the door, but he didn't move. Instead, he lay there and hoped for whoever stood on the other side to go away, to leave him alone. Izar shifted his weight, closing his eyes and preparing to fall back to sleep. What else was there left to do? It only took a few moments for him to drift off into his dreams.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Again, his eyes flitted open as he was once more pulled from his slumber quite abruptly. This time, however, his stomach knotted with anger. 'How dare they!' he thought, nostrils flaring, as his breathing became heavier. What right did this person have to interrupt him? Why could he not just be left alone to do what he pleased? Surely anyone could understand that the loss of his only family was upsetting, that he should need a few days to himself?

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

Izra emitted a low growl from deep in his throat, breathing erratic with outrage. He jumped from the bed and marched to the door, ready to give a good clobber to anyone standing at the door. He inhaled sharply and flung open the door, prepared to shout wildly at the person on the other side. Quickly, his anger turned to confusion as he looked down at his tiny neighbor and a man he didn't recognize. All of the ire was, at least temporarily, gone from his bones as the old woman spoke up, "This is Azrael, one of the wickeds from the temple."

Just like that the fire was back in the pit of his stomach, his lips curled up into a snarl. He couldn't tell you the words that were exchanged afterwards, as it's all become a muddy blur of a memory, but through some series of yelling and mocking the three of them ended up sat around the table in the middle of the small cottage. And in that moment, the priest said precisely what he needed to hear, words of great personal meaning that he has yet to ever reveal to another soul.

Thus began Izra's journey into priesthood.

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