Huorn Hearthsong's page

About Huorn Hearthsong

The words "Church" and "Wizard" don't always go together, with one side claiming the divine as the only form of magic pure enough for mankind. The other, seeing it as a lazy excuse for those too short-sighted to see man's own capabilities.

But that, exactly, is what Huorn Hearthsong is. He walks this fine line in the Silver Crusade, handling the situations meet that neither faith nor violence can solve (but violence still solves most problems, really) with wit and Arcanum.

As a youngster, his parents; a Lady-At-Arms and a Priest respectfully, had high hopes too groom him into a fine Cleric in saranrae's name. But in time he showed more magical aptitude than faith, making potions out of the altar's wines. Choosing books over scriptures. Being the child who would debate then leave his parents speechless, as such they had no choice but to remind him that all magic is the same.

...That was the last lesson he learnt. They never returned from their last mission. The order never really told him what happened, perhaps too considerate of the young Hearthsong. Cutting his education in wizarding school short, he remained with the Silver Crusade out of a sense of duty -and picked up where he left off through the various shoppes and apothecaries littering the town.

His skills and talents make him a valued member of the Silver CRusades, providing insight into matters from more worldly points of views. But only his sense of duty binds him there. For he is, in his own words, a Knight in Sour Armor.

Personality: Varisian grace and flambouyance infuses itself as an accent to his personality. True to his ancestry of caravaneers, gypsie fortune-tellers and perhaps the occasional adultruos rogue in more maritial affairs than one can handle. That may be a past far-gone by his generation though, for Huorn's childhood days were spent quaintly amongst the loose teachings of saranrae's clergy. Nonetheless, he still holds much appreciation for the finer things in life and often indulges himself in luxurious fabrics -among other regal things, provided he has the coin.

But alas, the order he is honor-bound to would rather squander their finery to ease conflicts amongst bitter enemies, promote peace through the region and you know, blah-blah-blah. Giving to the poor is good and all, in fact he encourages it but once in awhile, just once, he would like to see the Silver Crusade reward the agents who actually did the mission, with more than words of praise and a cheap smile.

Appearance: Expensive clothing justly cut so that they barely meet adventuring standards, grime and soot kept at bay with ample employment of Prestidgitations. The symbol of his order, the silver ankh, prominently displayed on certain parts of his outfit. To the extent that he is sometimes mistaken for a priest or cleric.

This is despite the assortment of odd one sided earrings and jewelled bangles that would make duller, drabber, devotees cringe either in dismay or jealousy.