Gildre Family/Gilth II

Gilth
Status:	Alive
Continent:	Beluterra
Realm:	Sacred Obia'Syela
Previous Realms:	Greater Xavax
Current Titles:	Adventurer
Titles Held:	N/A
Class:	Adventurer
Honor:	15
Prestige:	8
Age:	42
Eyes:	Blue
Hair:	Auburn
Sword skills:	40
Jousting skills:	N/A
Leadership skills:	N/A
Infiltration skills:	N/A
Bureaucratic skills:	N/A
Preaching skills:	N/A
Unique Items:	N/A
Unique Items Held:	N/A

Appearance

You look upon a man who is just slightly past young. His dirty blonde hair is just barely long enough to tie back, yet his bangs have a habit of slipping free from their tie to hang in front of his face. His blue eyes compliment a pleasantly angular face. He is not pretty, but most would agree he is attractive.

At full height, he stand just over six feet tall. His limbs are long and lean, with rounded shoulders and a fairly broad back. He is athletic looking, with evidence that he trains regularly, but he is no mass of muscle.

He often sports a white tunic with a red rose crest embroidered on the chest, the crest of his family. Beneath he wears dark trousers, and leather knee high boots. He wields a simple hand-and-a-half sword, made of quality and held with high sentimental value.

Revival

The arrows had torn his body to shreds. He fell to his knees, and with his last breath he uttered one word, "Cadewyn...". Darkness overtook the hero.

When awareness returned to Gilth, he sensed no physical form. He simply was. He existed, as part of a swirly, chaotic force of energy, flowing through everything. He knew not sadness, nor joy. He existed in order to contribute to the ebb and flow. The Maelstrom. He remembered... something. It played at the edge of his conscious mind, just out of reach, dancing away when his thoughts closed towards it.

Time was irrelevant. Inside the Maelstrom it was impossible to calculate. Both eons and minutes passed simultaneously.

From the flow, he felt himself pulled. His energy was separated from the river, formed, and plucked from the Maelstrom. Everything felt different.

He gasped, cold air rushing into his lungs, feelings long forgotten. Stars loomed in front of him against a black sky. He breathed hard. His body was heavy against the ground. He wiggled his fingers, then his toes. Experimentally, he sat up and looked around.

He sat in a field, naked.

"What the..." he whispered. The idea of the Maelstrom seemed a distant memory. Vaguely he remembered the arrows, and the pain... and the death.

How could this be?

He stood and looked around. A small farm house stood at the edge of the field. He began walking on stiff legs towards it, and once he reached it he knocked on the old wooden door.

An elderly man opened the door and yipped in surprise at the naked state of Gilth.

"Many pardons, farmer," he said, "My name is Sir Gilth Gildre. I know this sounds strange, but I am not exactly sure how I arrived in this place. Could you please point me in the direction of Xavax City?"

The elder looked confused, "Xavax City? I have never heard of it."

Gilth frowned, "Xavax City, old man. The capital. Which way is it?"

"The capital of the Sacred Obia'Syela is Rines..."

"Obia... what?" Gilth demanded, beginning to fluster.

"Obia'Syela. This is where you be. And you best be careful, wandering around naked like you are, claiming to be a Sir. Borders on heresy, that does. If the Inquisition catch wind, we might both be taken to the gallows."

"Inquisition... Rines... Obia... Syela?" Gilth's head started swimming, and he staggered backwards, fighting to breath.

"Oi," the old man said, "Calm yourself. Here," he reached into the house and pulled out a cloak, and wrapped Gilth in it.

Gilth calmed and breathed, and felt warmer. He had forgotten that he was naked.

"What... what continent is this?" he asked.

"Why, Beluaterra, of course!" the old man replied, looking even more confused now.

"Gods..." Gilth whispered, "I am from the East Continent..."