Reginald Murdock

Details

At first glance Reginald comes across as a simple rugged country man. A rough stubble beard covering the lower half of his face most of the time. Dressed in simple functional clothing, usually a little stained and dusted from work or travel. Since the loss of his family his most notable feature is a deep frown on his brow. Oh so serious and harsh. Almost shrouding a striking pair of soulful hazel eyes. This expression seems to be a permanent one, but if you manage to make the man smile you are rewarded with a genuine and handsome one. Due to his height its not always that easy to merge into a crowd for him. Accompanied by a broad pair of shoulders Reginald is truly a man in its most basic form.  

He has several notable knife scars on his left hand, caused by many painful gamble games of five finger filet. They are also a big reason why he wears gloves when riding.

Clothing|Jewellery|Satchel

Everyday shirts - vests - work jeans - riding pants - leather suspenders - duster coats - jackets - gloves for working or riding - boots - spurs - hats - hoods  

Since his wife was of Xailian descent they wore the traditional golden wedding bracelet from her country. But after her death he took both bracelets with him to carry in her honour. In his mind he is still married to her. He wears one on each wrist.

When he travels he carries a satchel made of a silver fox pelt. With the beautiful face of the animal as the flap and the bushy, fluffy tail hanging down as decoration. In this satchel he keeps important travel items such as;

• A monocular. This monocular is Ashmorian made and bought in his late teens on the black market in Al Qahil. It is visibly old, scratched and dented.
  
• A compass. This compass once belonged to his late father and is the last memorabilia Red has of him. It is visibly old, scratched and dented. Inside the lid, hidden in a small compartment, it carries a professionally hand drawn family portrait of his parents and himself when he was young. The folded paper is weathered and the drawing is starting to fade but its one of Reds most precious items.
  
• A fishing rod. For fishing!  
  
• A brush for his horse. He likes to keep his horses clean and looked after.
  
• A leather bound journal in which he writes and draws all kinds of things he encounters.
  

Independent || Passionate || Tough || Complex || Occasionally grim || Horse whisperer || Experienced || Straightforward || Recourseful || Helpful || serious || Contradictory || Short fused || Adventurous || Full of surprises

Reginald is a man hardened by the world and loss in his life. It has made him tough. He has no time for nonsense, mind games or beating around the bush. What he thinks he rarely shares, but if he does it will be truthful. Only a few have managed to make his thick walls crumble to reveal the surprisingly caring and passionate man underneath. This side of him compels him to help anyone in need. It doesn't matter who or what they are, since he doesn't believe in class or specie differences. Family is his everything and he will go to the ends of the world and beyond to make sure they are safe and happy.

Odirian magic and its religions are indissolubly connected and all his life Red has struggled with both. The first years of his life he lived without both. Later he came in contact with the faith of Renestrae and the Ashmorian hatred for magic. As a child forced to study the histories viewed from their side. For a long time it was all he knew. But with travel came new places, new people and new believes. It was interesting to him, sure, but he never truly understood until his wife showed him her way. Her religion. Her magic. His believes had slowly turned and over the years came to respect all the Odirian Deities. That respect and believe however was completely lost the day he lost his wife. He apostatized both the Odirian Deities and the faith of Renestrae. But it didn't leave him completely faithless. He now believes only in love and fire. To honour his wife and her believes he burned her in their family home in an attempt to sent her back to her beloved deity, Xeion. But Reginald was never able to truly let go of her. He took a piece of coal from the smoldering ruins, stored inside an ox horn with kindle and kept it alive and burning ever since. Every time he needs to make a fire he uses the coal from his ox horn. He often sees his wife in the flames. Feels her presence. Hears her whispers. In very dark moments he even talks to her. He more than once burned himself in a desperate attempt to touch her, leaving him with burned fingers and a deep yearning he can never silence.

'My story starts like that of everyone. At my birth, thirty-seven years ago, in a small costal town. Across the Ever-reaching Ocean, far from the shores of Odiria. Born into the loving and welcoming arms of my father and mother. I was their first child and a boy so naturally I was their pride and joy.  And what I remember from my years in that small costal town are only memories of happiness.
As the son of a merchant I didn't see my father a lot. He would be gone for months on end, traveling to fascinating far off places and having the greatest adventures. At least that's what my mother told me. But he'd always come back, full of riveting stories and bearing the strangest and most special gifts for mother and me. Proof of his great exploits. The time we spent together while he was home was like a dream. I remember always being so upset once he left us again to sail across the seas, finding more adventures without us. I didn't understand at the time. Luckily he left me with the purest woman there was, my dear mother. She filled my days with love and care, making me a true momma's boy, and teaching me how to be a good man. Like I said, only memories of happiness. That happiness didn't last long. Around my sixth year I fell ill. A horrible lung disease that plagued my home town. It didn't take long for me to heal but it was already too late. I had infected my mother and within the month she passed away.  

My father and I were broken by the loss of mother and couldn't bare to stay in that costal town, where we had found such fleeting happiness. So he decided to take me with him to the city where he made his best trades; Alderrath. Here he tried to make me the best home and give me the best education. But it was a hard time for me. I had lost my mother, carrying a guilt that I had caused her death. I didn't know anything about Alderrath, Odiria or their people and I hardly spoke the language. On top of that I still didn't see my father much, since he was traveling and working to provide for us. He hired a governess who cared for me and taught me the language, while he was away. Soon my father was able to procure me my very own passport and was I able to enroll into the midring school for children. I started making friends and learned about the Ashmorian culture. I started to explore the outer rings of the capital and before long I was a true Ashmorian myself. Speaking the language, knowing the people and practicing its religion. My farther and I grew very close in the little time I saw him. We only had each other now since he never remarried. And by the time I was twelve, right after I finished middle school, he took me on his ship. For four years I worked with him and his partners. They taught me all they knew and made me a man. Sailing the waters around Odiria and beyond. Showing me all their important trading cities and educating me about all the different cultures we would meet. I absolutely loved it. And if I'd had the chance I would have sailed the world with those men until the end of my days. Continuing my fathers good name and legacy. But it was not meant to be. I lost my father, half of his crew and his trading ship to a dreadful storm somewhere in the sea of Durmar. For three days we floated around in the ocean and only five of us were lucky enough to get picked up by a fishers boat. The fisherman took us all the way back to Xaila's capital. I knew my uncle lived in Al-Qahil, so after I had recovered I looked him up. He took me in and since he didn't have any sons of his own he took me on as his partner. Something I now regret. The man was nothing like my honest and hardworking father, but I was blinded by my loss and grieve to realize what a bad influence he was on me. He used me and my horsemanship skills for races, most of them illegal. He used me for his schemes and plots. He did nothing but lie and cheat, drink and whore around, gamble and steal. He dragged me straight into the mud of Al-Qahils slums. At the time I didn't care. I let it all happen and rejoiced in his awful way of life, just to escape the reality of all that I had lost. And I probably would've died in that mud if it wasn't for her.

Encyliae. The love of my life. My light and warmth in the cold darkness. She pulled me out of my dark path. She helped me unclutch the tight grip that my uncle had on me. And through it we fell madly in love. The kind of love great poets would dream of writing about. She showed me her world and I found mine. Soon we realized however, that our love was ill-fated. For she was a Sun elf. Carrying the most important name in all Xaila. I was a mere human, barely tolerated in the city of fire. I would never be allowed to marry one of its citizens, let alone marrying one of its Queens grandnieces. We found a way to be together of course, but it didn't last long. Once we were found out they separated us. Not long after me and my uncle were arrested. According to the guards it was because of our criminal history but I knew it was because of my involvement with Encyliae. To this day I don't know what happened to my uncle after that. He might be alive, he might have schemed his way out of punishment, but he most likely died soon after. I myself was taken to the dungeons of the sun ring. To rot in a cell until my day of punishment. After three weeks I stopped counting the days. Knowing my life would soon come to an end and rendering it pointless to hope. But in the fourth week that hope came rushing back in with a secret visit of my love. The festival of flames had started that day and I was saved as one of the traitors for the third day; a warriors honor. She couldn't let me die like that so she made up an escape plan for the both of us. I loved her for it but I told her that it was too dangerous and I couldn't let her throw her life away for me. I wasn't worth such a sacrifice. There was however one thing worth fighting for. Our child she was carrying. Once I learned of her pregnancy there was only one option for us both. Fighting as hard for our life's and find a safe place for our young family.

On the third day of the festival of flames, me and 2 other prisoners were taken up to the sun ring. I probably would've died that day if it wasn't for my Encyliae and our child. They gave me the strength and the mental clarity to be victorious. As a small reward I was granted my life, but banished from Xaila for good. Which was the only thing I needed to do for Encyliae's escape plan. During a brief unguarded moment she and I found our way out of the city, down to the docks and onto a small sailboat. Together we sailed away from everything that she knew. Knowing that we could never go back. For I had stolen one of theirs and fathered her children. An offense we would never be forgiven for, or so she told me. We traveled south east and found a country were we could start over. Encyliae gave birth to a beautiful healthy son and for the next fifteen years we lived and loved in peace. We built our farm home and made a life for ourselves. It was the happiest time of my life...

I should've have known that it wouldn't last. It never did before. But this time God.. or the Gods.. Or who ever is in charge of this hell hole really did their worst. I still don't know who or why, but one day I came home to my farm halfway burned down. And my wife dying in our bed. She was pregnant with our second child, about to give birth, when they came. They attacked our workers, burned down our farm and killed all our livestock. They made sure I wasn't home that week and mortally wounded my wife while she gave birth to our daughter. Then they took my children and left my wife to die...
I held her in my arms as she drew her last breath, swearing to her that I would find and safe our children. I took everything I needed. Filled the bed around my wife with her favorite flowers and set the house ablaze. I watched all day and all night until there was nothing left but a smoldering pile of ash and coal, which was once our home. Then I took my horse and left to find the monsters who did this to us and safe our children.

That was two years ago. For two years I traveled the world. For two years I turned every rock and followed every trail I could find. Nothing. Until I stumbled upon something. A spark of hope. Only a rumor. A simple whisper loud enough for me to follow the path they might have taken. A path that would lead me back to a place I'd never thought I would see again. Odiria... '