Wail of a Thousand Voices
Aasimar Beast Rider
Standing at roughly six feet in height, one would easily assume Vossler to be human. The heavy coat, large hat and dark lensed goggles make it difficult to see his face and what little can be seen looks excessively pale and white. Infact that might be the only skin uncovered on his body during the daylight hours, even his hands clad in gloves. On his back is a lance made for mounted combat and a heavy wooden shield. Of much more interest however is the large sword sheathed in it’s scabbard on his belt. It looks to be of exceptional quality and craftsmanship, old but still very much fit for purpose, probably more so than many made more recently.
Without his heavier clothing Vossler is more easily identified for what he really is, an albino Aasimar if Agathion heritage. His incredibly pale skin and red eyes give him a potentially unnerving appearance alone. Upon his head are a pair of fox-like ears, white like the hair on his head while protruding from his lower back is a tail of the same type, once again covered in snow white fur.
Vossler was born illegitimately into a Rostland noble family, one with strong connections to the famed Aldori Swordlords and their legendary founder, Sirian Aldori. He was always thought to be a little ‘strange’ due to his albinism but otherwise he was treated well and enjoyed the privileges and education afforded to him. Like many other noble-born children he idolized the Aldori Swordlords and aspired to join their ranks when he came of age and skill, truly earning the name he was otherwise unfit to bear. To this end he began learning to wield a sword from an early age, training hard both in and out of his spare time. When he was old enough his father, pleased to see his son aspiring to such a noble and prestigious goal, handed down a sword of exceptional quality, an heirloom passed down across generations to those who followed a similar path or simply kept in the family when such people had not arisen. It was far larger than a typical longsword and for the longest time he could only use it with two hands, learning to mesh the mimicry he’d made of the Aldori style with one typical for such weapons otherwise. At this point Vossler also became aware of his connection with animals. He had learnt how to ride when he was young and continued to do so growing up but it was not until this point that he had realised the bond he could form with animals and just how quickly he was able to establish such a connection.
Things seemed as if they would go well until his true heritage began to show itself, manifesting in strange bestial seeming features not unlike those of a fox. His family kept this a secret for the longest time through his albinism as it meant he had to wear heavier clothes and such to protect himself from the effects of the sun. Even so it strained the marriage of his parents and heated arguments would become frequent in the privacy of their home. Vossler was well aware of his illegitimacy at this point but instead of seeking the truth he decided not to acknowledge it. He was proud like most of his stature should be and any implication such as this was a mortal blow to whatever claim of nobility he had. Worst of all he would lose his chance to become a Sword Lord, that which he desired most. Eventually however the secrets begun to leak and rumours spread amongst his peers. It didn’t take long before people dared speak openly to him of this, usually as a means by which to put him down or make jabs when their abilities failed to match his in practice and training.
When the time finally came for him to take the challenge and stake a claim to membership and training among the Sword Lords he was instantly rejected, the news of his situation having reached their ears long before then. Disgraced despite his ability, he remained at home but became increasingly withdrawn from society in general, opting instead to spend time alone riding. The strain on his parent’s marriage only continued to intensify and as a result they paid less and less attention to him. He began waking later and later, spending his waking hours at night rather than in the day due to his condition which only gave people more reason to ostracize him. Eventually it reached a point where most thought he had left Rostland or disappeared some time ago, only a few caring enough to remember him on the few occasions they might have glimpsed him in the evenings. When finally his father passed away he truly did leave Rostland proper, travelling to the outskirts, staying at outposts of villages on the fringe and at times spending long periods in the wilderness. He was bitter over all that had happened to him, things that were no fault of his own. Where a great deal of people would grow jaded and harsh he only grew saddened and depressed. Spending time alone in the wilderness with only his horse and whatever other wildlife his gift placated eased this however and he tried to distract himself from his past trials and tribulations. This only worked so well though as he still kept practicing with his family sword, the only tangible reminder he brought with him. Lacking real opponents to spar and practice with caused his skill to dull but he remained, nonetheless, a formidable opponent in battle.
The years he spent out there turned to decades and his grew more in touch with the place he now called home. The few times he ventured away from the wilds and past the fringe of civilisation emphasised how much things had changed and the speed at which human society moves when compared to the relative tranquillity he’d found. He picked up the Sylvan language after some study, feeling that one day he might need it should he encounter any fey creatures in his roaming. Further decades later while he was staying in an outpost for the evening a simple robed stranger made a remark about his appearance, claiming to have seen him riding earlier while on his way. Vossler concealed his weirder features while staying in such places, giving him little choice but to believe this man. The pair of them got talking and over the course of conversation the stranger, who said he was a travelling cleric, explained that his features and ‘aura’ seemed to suggest something celestial in nature. Vossler had never cared to inquire or look into what he was but now, hearing this as he was, he grew oddly curious. Question after question was met with vague but nonetheless helpful answers from the supposed cleric. When the cleric excused himself to retire for the night Vossler decided he would travel with this cleric, hoping to quiz him further. This was not to be however as, when he woke early, the cleric had seemingly left already. Vossler rode onwards to track him down but could find nothing and no trace of the man. Confused, he now craved the answers to questions he knew he should have asked far too long ago. Even so he travelled back to the home of his parents, his mother long since passed as well now. Barely anyone knew or recognised him and his former peers were now old and in positions that kept them busy or unwilling to mingle. The few people he felt he could ask questions to became frightfully taken aback by any insinuation that their relatives would have sired a bastard and laughed at the fanciful tail of celestial involvement. To them he was insulting their family names. His inquiry there ended when one situation ended in a duel for the sake of honour. A hot-headed noble’s son who too had aspirations of joining the Aldori had grown tired of what he was implying with his questions. He was rather easily victorious and he spared the boy who was talented but not yet skilled. Despite his own pride he gave a quiet and unaccepted apology and left.
For a time he went to libraries and read up on celestials, learning that what the cleric had been vague about meant he was an aasimar. Further study gave him little more than definitions and what was typical of aasimar. Once again he was lost as to how he would learn more and some months of contemplation took place. Eventually he came up with a vague plan of action. If all he read was true then surely this meant that somewhere a deity smiled upon him. Perhaps his celestial parent still lived as well. When he looked for them the answers seemed to hide, his encounter with the cleric had been by chance alone it seemed. He resolved to influence these chances in that case. His heritage was that of a holy being dedicated to good so he would mimic that, he would find wrongs to right and just, in general, do good things. He hoped this would bring the answers to him.
In his search for a worthy quest he travelled to Restov. There he heard the crier seeking people for something. This seemed a good opportunity for him and, upon reading through what was expected of him he accepted.
He is a skilled swordsman and even though he had given up hope at the time of ever joining the Swordlords he never truly stopped practicing. On top of that he is an accomplished rider, good with a lance and at home in the saddle. With those sort of skills Vossler sees himself as more than ready to tackle the task he’s found for himself, exploring the Stolen Lands and fighting against banditry. His reasons for this undertaking are selfish now but in time Vossler will come to find this is his calling, something he doesn’t need to do but that he wants to do. Good is in his blood after all, he just didn’t realize it until now.
Personality wise Vossler is kind, pleasant and friendly. He’s been through a lot of issues, had his dreams dashed and felt the distaste of people he once called friends. Anyone else might have taken a darker path, especially considering his pride and desire to be perceived as honourable and skilled. Instead this has only made him understanding. He still takes offense to being insulted or having his honour questioned, seeking to prove otherwise if he can. If it ever comes to a duel he’s more than likely to spare his opponent, seeing the value in life and that to preserve it is surely more honourable than to take it over comparatively minor issues.