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Approved WK Bio For Miles Delling - CC'd by BT


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Character Name: Miles Delling

DM Handle: LongLost

Character Count: 2nd in this Div

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Physical Description: 5’9”, 170lbs. Previously blue eyes, brown hair with reddish undertones. He has a charming smile, and dimples (for some reason).

Place of Birth: Andor, home is south of Caemlyn.



Character History:


The paranoia had been growing worse of late. Even here in his father’s study he felt watched. Observed. Dissected. While pouring over the books and maps his father insisted he study every evening, Miles would slip into the familiar lulling trance of absorbing what these instruments of education had for him to digest. It wouldn’t be long though until he’d be lifted from his intellectual reverie by a sound from outside  or the smell of dinner cooking in the distant kitchen. Mistress Cheryl had to be cooking quite a feast for the familiar scent of fresh garlic and onions to waft all the way to the small library on the second floor.


Miles closed the book he was indulging in. He knew it so well by now that he could have written it himself anyway. His father’s usual post-dinner question and answer session would go well tonight. Miles donned his slippers and headed for the dining room. He brought the book with him, it was a remarkably thorough, albeit heavily biased, account of Andoran history stretching back several hundred years. Volumes like these, written by yet another scholar in the long line of his family inflated his father’s already obese ego whenever he had been reading them.


Descending the staircase Miles began to inquire to himself if there might be a book upstairs that could give him some insight into his paranoia, or even the terribly disturbing dreams that had been plaguing him for nearly two weeks. Dreams of running, hiding, hunting, and blood. Always there was blood, on his lips, in his mouth, clotting in his hair, or running down his legs. The morning he’d woken with actual blood under his nails had been securely blocked from his conscious mind after several hours of scrubbing with water that never seemed like it could be hot enough to erase what his still drowsy mind screamed may have actually happened. The wolves were almost as bad, there’d been several spotted much closer to the house than anytime in recent memory. Those were just the ones he saw with his eyes, they were easy to understand he supposed. It was the ones in his blood dreams that bothered him.


Miles sat at his accustomed seat at the foot of the table and waited to be joined by the family and servants. As the all took their places one by one, they seemed to double-take as they greeted him. Each a pale face that wouldn’t meet his gaze afterward. When his father sat across from him at the head, he was the exception. Instead of growing pasty white, his brow furrowed and he studied his son in silence for the entirety of the meal. No one spoke except when requesting more wine, or nut bread or something of the like. Miles awkwardly excused himself and retired to his room for the evening. In curiosity he stood in front of his one small mirror and was struck with complete and utter shock at the newly golden eyes that sat where his baby-blues used to be. Golden eyes that had shocked his normally gossip-filled dinner with thunderous silence, golden eyes that would change his life forever.


When he rose in the morning, Miles was surprised how silent the house was, and how pronounced the sound of the surrounding countryside seemed this morning. Something on his bedside table caught his eye, and he reached out to find a letter there, on top of several books. The letter was from his father explaining that everyone had gone into the city for the day, and that Miles was to take the pack at the foot of his bed and supplement the supplies that had already been provisioned for him with items of his own choosing, and leave the estate. There was no explanation, but plenty of salted pork. It was more than obvious that something was wrong, and that it was most likely due to those eyes that weren’t his. And so, being the ever-obedient son he proceeded to leave home with no idea of where or why; just books, food, and camp-making supplies. Miles had never been the outdoors-type but he was smart and so wasn’t terribly worried. How hard could it be?. Hopefully he wouldn’t be in the wilderness too long, although he had no idea where to go, he knew home was not an option.


Walking down the path from the house, Miles contemplated which direction to start his impromptu journey to nowhere. Although with the sun directly overhead he wasn’t sure which direction was which, so he decided to go the direction he thought was North West.


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