Name: Arseni
Nickname: Senya
Born: 14,545 VE (35 yrs)
Place of Birth: Valbaaran Badlands
Species: Manticore
Height: 7 ft w/o horns
Weight: Undecided
Occupation: Wanderer
Residence: Valbaaran Badlands
Background: Naive youngster
Magical Aptitude: High
Notable Features: Chipped left horn
Theme: Undecided

Likes: Mischief, hunting, setting traps, getting lost
Dislikes: Those weird two-leggers and their strange customs


The young Arseni spent his early years being raised in the Valbaaran badlands by his mother and two uncles, and for a long time, his life was a simple one. His elders taught him the old earth magicks, and he practiced his craft under the watchful gaze of his family. As he started to grow into himself, he began venturing further and further from the family den, never quite aware that one or both of his uncles was never too far away, always making sure the young Senya never wandered into dangerous territory.

But he grew up eventually. Though still a youthful 35 years, Senya would one day leave home without a plan to return. And for once, he was completely on his own. Before he left, Arseni began asking the same sorts of questions he was used hearing brushed off. And for once, he began to get answers. His elders had seen much of the land's tumultuous past, and though they worked so hard to shelter him from these truths, each knew they would only be handicapping Senya by letting him into the world without knowing its past.

Those two-legger creatures were impossible for a manticore to ignore. The things they had done to each other and to the land were affronts to the very divine spirit of the world. But worst of all, they took something much more personal along the way. Arseni had never gave thought the absense of his father, at least not while he was so loved and well cared for. But to learn the legacy of the father robbed away from him- and of the two-legger responsible for it- filled his heart with a burning he'd never known.

Arseni's journey into the wilds is not one of revenge, and he swore this much when he left. He would not dedicate himself to exacting the blood price of his father's murderer. And yet, the thought crept up on him in the quiet of night. Every two-legger he met was afraid of him, and rightfully so, but that did not stop Arseni from creeping into their spaces, from peering down into their sleeping faces, looking for the one who might have done the deed.

But even with spite lodged in his heart, it seems impossible to shake Arseni of his youthful naivete and general sense of playfulness. He may have a mission, but he'll find a way to have fun with the whole affair.


Back to top