Vaille

Breeding Card by Disillusionist

VAILLE - Limner
Lore by Tues

Laureate's Cap

Apparel

A velveteen beret lined with shining embroidery. The plume attached to the headband belonged to a bird long extinct.

1450

Serthis Loremaster

Familiar

As the legend goes: parchment and flame do not mix.

2525

Harmonious Vest

Apparel

A stylish quilted vest of blue and brown, accompanied by a flowing cape. You'll be seen from a mile away.

0

There is no magic in Vaille's veins. The great power that runs in his family has passed him over, granting greater favor to his sisters. However, he is not jealous. Contrary to expectation, Vaille is quite at peace with the mundane life he leads, and instead of focusing on his efforts on mastering nebulous forces of the world, he has trained himself to become steady and patient, and to draw like no other.

In the absence of magic, he strove from a young age to accomplish something by the sheer force of hard work. Hunting did not suit him, and flight was not enjoyable enough, despite his proficiency. He came closer to something dear when he began composing poems of his own, but afraid to share them widely, he struggled to receive advice that would help him better his craft. But the pen felt right in his hand. It belonged there, no doubt, and if putting poems to the page wasn't right, then he would find something else.

And he has. Now, Vaille is an accomplished limner, wanted across Sornieth for his skill in illuminating manuscripts. He has the steadiest command of inks and brushes ever seen, and he is not bothered by the long, lonely hours spent hunched over an illumination in progress. He relishes the silence, the chance to concentrate, and takes extraordinary pride in his completed works. There is no magic in him, simply skill, and he could not be more proud.

---

Vaille moved to Oakheart reluctantly, since he dislikes dirt and was loathe to stay in such a low-prestige place known more for its minstrels and artisans than its intellectual accomplishments- but times were apparently changing. The scholars there had petitioned his academy long and hard for him to visit and assist with the restoration works on the old manuscripts which they held, and to his surprise it really was a treasure trove of unusual and unique books and scrolls needing a mastercraftsman like himself- he did relish such a challenge. It didn't hurt, either, that on his passage to Oakheart he was accompanied by the fascinating weather mage, Bering, with whom he developed an instant rapport. They discussed academic magic at length, the best quills and inks for certain tasks, be it scribing a spell on parchment or etching it with acid into a runestone- and still stay up late many nights, talking and laughing about academia, the latest scrolls he'd uncovered, and lively debate about scientific pursuit of magic.

Some would consider it odd, that such a fundamentally unmagical skydancer such as himself would be so completely head-over-heels for a 'weather witch' with magic literally crystalizing on her skin- but love falls where it will, regardless of sense. He is awaiting his first nest with her, in a tizzy of anxious excitement. He paces, he dredges up ancient books on hatch-technique, he checks every seismic monitor and static tester and rain guage around Bering's lair fastidiously, daunted by the prospect that the little ones he can hear even now, peeping and rustling in the eggs, might come out as magical as their mother- or worse, he swallows hard- as magical as their grandparents.