The
sword at his side is the Master empowered
one of the 100 Swords of Heathfield. For certain occasions, he wears a cream silk Buccaneer's shirt with billowing sleeves, a purple sash trimmed in gold over brushed black leather pants. Other times he wears the kilt of his clan - green,
blue, tan tartan, with a broach holding it at his shoulder with the
ancient symbol of power - 3 pinwheels.
He was born in the lands of Heathfield, growing up as a normal child at first until his
powers started to evolve and then honed. He grew into a man, destined to
be more than just his status. He has seen physically, 27 summers. A Gemini
born, whom has found his twin in another ancient drawn to these lands, Myles
MacKeogh. Andrew was married once when a lot younger but she has been gone a long time.
It was not meant to be and he harbors no ill over any of it. He had no qualms being
alone as his destiny in whom he is keeps him busy. The mixture of
his bloodline renders it deadly to those of undead status. Liquid
sunshine in a toxic form, inherited in the very magical creatures called
Grugrach.
That dazzle of dust particles that seemed to shimmer with the rippling of air, had him stepping in silence upon the soft bed of the forest. Sunlight filtered in dancing shards
playing with the foliage of trees in nature's tranquility of deep woods.
That scent of living trees and dried leaves mingled with pine needles beneath one's step, of moss and flowers that would defy having little light to bloom in a sweet fragrance. The forest bed was
nature's womb and held that fresh scent of life, a kind that defied to be analyzed or any one word
known to describe.
This was more his home along with the Crystal Cave, than the confines of
man's structures. The Cave, nestled in the heart of the Heathfield forest,
has a spell cast keeping it hidden from would be intruders. Electrical shards
dance in the depths of piercing blues eyes as his powers grew. Sometimes holding the quality of a distance storm, the kind held to the sky in its quiet electrical display. He formed the Druid Circle, which called upon adepts within the lands as needed. As the years past since his return, his powers were only honed coming completely into his own. Still, life was an ongoing mystery and learning process, never let it be said it was
dull, good and bad both a necessary part.
He seemed to step from the shadows of the very trees themselves, like the stealth of a panther in a
masculine silent grace emerging upon his prey. Except, there was nothing threatening about Andrew in that
way. He has that very feel of nature's balm that could still the ripples upon the lakes
themselves, calming them to a sheen of glass. Piercing blue eyes are edged with that shimmer of particles much like the rift he had just
passed through. He wore what was comfortable, little, leaving him mostly
bared chest and feet. Khaki linen pants fitted him well, held up with a
wide, dark brown leather belt. The gold buckle has an inlay of the three curling spirals. A good inch of brown leather strap laid down across his chest at an angle, attached to the leather pouch at his side. Wide bands of gold adorn each upper arm, encircling well defined muscles, etched too in runic symbols. What drew
one's eye was the long thin braids, one either side, that ran tapering
down to his waist. These braids held their symbolic significance with the passing of time.
He is not one seen out in public a lot but he is one that is always
around in the background. There will be times when he is seen more often
then not again. A recluse by design. Brotherhood
of the Sword |