Editing Campaign:IMPROMPTU GAME/Roarke (section)

== Basics ==
'''Name:''' Roarke<br/>
'''Concept:''' Legendary Swordsmith<br/>
'''Caste/Aspect:''' Dawn<br/>
'''Motivation:''' A blade that can hew mountains, split volcanoes, and sunder the skies. Whose very name will make gods tremble.<br/>
'''Intimacies:'''Swordsmithy, His Bastard of a Mentor <br/>
'''Anima Banner:''' Exploding Volcano!<br/>
'''Anima Effect:''' Can appear huge!<br/>
'''Experience:''' 6 <br/>
''(write experience points as "unspent / total" plx)''

=== Background ===

Pre-Exaltation: Roarke was the youngest son of a farmer. However, he, wasn't one for farming. He didn't have the patience to do it. His temperament was too hot to sit and watch grain grow. But he could withstand the aching heat of the summers, when bread would bake in ceramic bowls left out on porches. He could just sit their in the bright heat and take it all. It was this affinity for heat... for fire that attracted the attention of the local blacksmith, a literal god of the forge that provided the little community. He took the boy as his apprentice, approving the way the boy took to rhythmic hammering and basked in the heat of forge. Learning the secrets that the god had, however, was a different matter. Roarke was too rebellious to learn the basics. He wanted to make weapons that were fit for the Realm, not farm tools to scratch at dirt. Yet his master refused, saying that with out that basic foundation. It took some cajoling, but soon Roarke was learning how to make ploughshares. He was happy to find that their was a reward to learn to make the tools of other trades, his master showing him the way of war as well as the way of the hammer. And he grew up. Lean and strong and tan... working with metal and hammers and heat, his body was forged and cast just like the tools he made. Still, he said to his master on one of the times he was in their community, demonstrating his prowess with the hammer... then showing his prowess with the newly forged blade. He was ready to learn the secrets from the god. His heart sank when he was refused. And such, he sat out to prove he was a worthy successor. That he would make a blade that would shatter the world. And he would use the secret stores of orichalcum his master had scurried away over the years.

Exaltation: Forcing yourself to work orichalcum and never giving up until you make it into a sword is pretty exaltation-worthy. In the process of hammering the unworkable metal... the countless hours of blood sweat and tears hunched over an anvil with a material that refuses to budge. in the process of hammering the unworkable metal... Through sheer willpower, making it, slowly, surely into something of wonder. Finally, at the break of dawn, one fateful strike of the hammer... the orichalcum bends. Roarke glows... his forehead pouring light... but he doesn't care, the metal moved. Wordlessly, he continues to hammer... and hammer... and hammer. Even breaking the mortal tool unable to keep up in the rush of enlightenment. he reaches down and with his bare hands, starts shaping the sword. keeping it in it's shape while he reaches for another tool, not noticing that his hands were shaping the metal themselves. he swings the blade... a piece of him. His own extension. It cuts that which is in front of him flawlessly. But... his master is nowhere to be found. For now, just Roarke, the forge, and the blinding golden light exhuming from him. Months pass in the shack outside of town, still no sign. His master is nowhere to be found, and he's kept his involvement in the town to a minimum, due to rumors of being an Anathema. Eventually, he makes his way to a forest, to a rumor he had heard from his master about a forge that he was to take Roarke to one day. Roarke finds a obsidian pillar standing firm among the vined, worn ruins of what looks like a forest temple. From even outside, he can feel the heat pouring out of it. As he looks over the pillar, he finds a hidden notch, barely even noticeable in the flawless design. A part of the pillar opens, revealing a platform which Roarke can take down and at the bottom, a forge, the likes of which he has never seen. The whole room is illuminated by the anvil and forge, glowing a bright hot white, yet cool and comfortable from a clear-blue stream that runs down the middle. Ancient tomes, broken armor, dusty equipment, but all in good-to-serviceable shape. In the middle of the anvil's base is a red stone, staring at Roarke like an eye. He can feel the magical properties even as he looks back at it. Learning in one of the various tomes that this Hearthstone helps with forging. How it powers equipment, making them shine and stand out from mere mortal equipment. Eventually, he comes to learn how to attune to it, making the forge his, and making it his home away from watching eyes.

=== Appearance ===
Roarke is a muscular man in his early twenties. He has red hair that's shoulder length and kept mostly free, except when working. He has the skritchings of a goatee on his chin. His preferred form of clothing is a pair of loose, leather trousers, a red sash, and a hobnailed boots. He's taken to wearing a bandolier across his chest carrying not projectiles, but tools used in the trade of forging.