William N'witghen; Mage of Balance

"You think you know the value of your power?" The voice rasped, hidden in the dark folds of the hut

"Yes, master." The young man said, his robes a brilliant red and orange as he sat meditating in the underground hut.

"You think you appreciate it for what it has taught you, not what it has given you?"

"Yes... Master." The man repeated, seeming to get the feeling that something was wrong as he looked up at the source of the voice. An old man stepped out of the shadows, a wooden staff in hand and his face branded and scarred by marks; marks that labeled him a mage, a dishonorable person among many.

"Then you are foolish, as foolhardy as circle mages who strive for power. You have yet to learn humbleness for your gift, to use power as needed. You have still yet learned to appreciate that which you have been given." The younger man's eye twitched as he looked up at his master, standing up quickly and blurting out.

"But master, I've studied under you since I was a child, surely I've learned to appreciate that which..."

"Lies!" The older of the two called out, backhanding the young man across the face as he turned around, rubbing his bald chin with his spindly hand, thinking for a moment. "I'll teach you to appreciate your powers properly, to know limitations and be weakened compared to your fellow magi. Yes..."

The young man rubbed his face, regaining his posture as he looked at the old man with a slight glare "And how do you plan to do that... Master."

"Why, its quite simple, really... I'll just remove your voice." He said with a chuckle, knocking the young mage back and placed his middle and forefinger over the mage's throat, muttering something as it lit up, a green light emenating from the young lad's throat.

The young man gripped his throat, a burning sensation filling it as he looked at a nearby shard of fragmented glass, noting a strange rune seeming to etch into his skin.

"To teach you to appreciate your art, I 'bless' you with this rune of silence. You will no longer be able to speak lest you break the first two seals, and you will not be able to mutter so much as a cantrip lest you break the rune's power completely."

The young man looked up at his master, his mouth agape as he gripped his throat, anguish shown in his face, followed by fear, and sadness... He needed his master to teach him so he could break this curse, this, ran through his head vivdly as he bowed in respect...

Years passed, and the mage finally broke the first two of many seals within the rune, regaining his speech, but finding himself barely audible even when he was shouting. He had forced himself to study intensly into the art of casting spells silently, and it was this that gave him some semblence of tranquility in the noiseless hell in which it took all of his strength speaking just to be heard.

Unfortunately, it was his master's curse upon him that led to the demise of the old man, for without his voice, he could not warn his master of the impending undead that approached them. With sadness in his eyes, and hatred towards the undead, he picked up his spellbook, and a small chalkboard so that he could properly communicate, heading out in search of survivors.

His journey was long, harsh, but with time, and sheer luck, he was capable of finding the boarded home. Here he quickly made friends, using his ettiquette and formalities to obtain items of power and form bonds with those around him, and with time, the human mage self-proclaimed his apprenticeship over when he perfected his spell to turn invisible. The mage claimed to be a free wizard, a wizard of balance; serving neither cause nor reason, and looking simply for balance between good and evil, he began his struggle to prevent unneccesary death, one that would take time to accomplish.

It was when the rune was dispelled by a more powerful mage, that the wizard finally learned to appreciate the power his master had taught him to use, the discipline it took, and he found himself able to complete tasks and feats of magic of greater proportions. With his newfound power, he would follow a path of balance, attempting to prevent good or evil from spreading their influences too far.

Name: William N'witghen

Race: Human

Age: 18

Gender: Male

Height: About 6 feet tall

Skin Tone: Very light tan

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Brown

Place of Birth: In a ship heading to Siranda before the zombie outbreak

Distinction: Almost as stockline human as one could get. While not looking bad, he looks relatively average with brown eyes and hair with a stubble-like beard and a slightly lanky appearance. His most notable traits are the burn mark on his throat where the silence rune had previously been, and his robes, which combine a mix of greys, blacks, and whites with golden metals, giving it a classy if not somewhat egotistical appearance.

Religion/Deity: Boccob, god of magic, arcane knowledge, balance and foresight

General Alignment: William possesses a strange attitude, he is neutral, but in being neutral he sees himself as a wizard of balance, striving to keep the forces of both good and evil from growing too powerful or too weak as if fearing the outcome, instead trying to keep them in a constant state of unrest when possible. His religious affiliations seem to have no relation with this though.


-Mephlin his Familiar

//Extensive biography regarding time at the boarded home as well as biography for Mephlin coming soon.