Post by Esfandyar on Aug 19, 2011 21:05:17 GMT -5
Berserker
"My King asked me to lead an army. I drove our enemies from the field. I was rewarded with chains. My King asked me to free my brother from Arjasp's bondage. I broke his power and drove him from his throne. I was rewarded with chastisement. My King asked me to rescue my sisters. I slew wolves, monsters, magicians, even a dragon to bring them back. I was rewarded with belittlement. My king asked me to bring him Rustam in chains. My king, my father, asked me to die. What choice did I have?"
"My King asked me to lead an army. I drove our enemies from the field. I was rewarded with chains. My King asked me to free my brother from Arjasp's bondage. I broke his power and drove him from his throne. I was rewarded with chastisement. My King asked me to rescue my sisters. I slew wolves, monsters, magicians, even a dragon to bring them back. I was rewarded with belittlement. My king asked me to bring him Rustam in chains. My king, my father, asked me to die. What choice did I have?"
OTHER ALIAS[/color]: // Esfy, Spentodata, Zarathustra's Chosen
CURRENT AGE[/color]: // Unknown, fairly young
YEAR OF BIRTH[/color]: // Unknown
GENDER[/color]: // Male
ALIGNMENT[/color]: // Lawful Neutral
OCCUPATION[/color]: // Hero, Prince of Persia, Follower of Zarathustra, Slayer of Daevas, Dragon slayer
[/size][/ul]
Under the effects of Vairîm Kehrpem
You hoped a bigger weapon would be enough, old man? Adorable.
Don't even bother. You can't run fast enough.
Getting ready to fight
Changing with the times
HEIGHT[/color]: // 185 cm
WEIGHT[/color]: // 82 kg
EYE COLOR[/color]: // Red
HAIR COLOR[/color]: // Black
PIERCINGS[/color]: // A lot of them. Various parts of his body.
TATTOOS[/color]: // One on his left arm
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES [/color]: // He has iron studs in various places on his body, his entire skin can turn metallic when using his Noble Phantasm
[/size][/ul] [/blockquote]
- My King, Right or Wrong
- When given an order by his liege, Esfandyar will stop at nothing to fulfill his master's request. Even when everyone tells him to disobey the command, he won't turn back. Wisdom comes second to loyalty, no matter what misgivings he might have. This means that the morality of his master is irrelevant as far as earning his obedience. He will follow through with any order, even if it disgusts him.
- Blood Knight
- Esfandyar loves fighting, especially those he considers a worthy challenge. In battle, he is prone to go into a fiery rage, not holding back in his battle lust. He has broken the strength of kingdoms with his battle fury, driving kings from the battlefield to lick their wounds and sending heroes and monsters flying before him.
- Sense of Honor
- Esfandyar subscribes to his own personal code of honor. You don't run from a fight. You obey your liege. You follow the will of Ohrmazd. You fight the servants of Ahriman. While he will serve any lord with full trust and loyalty, he will try to do so in a way that won't violate his own personal philosophies.
- Devout
- Esfandyar's family was one of the first to convert to the teachings of Zarathustra and continued to spread his words throughout the world. Esfandyar readily accepted the new faith and even led armies under his father's command to convert others to Zoroastrianism.
- Something to Prove
- The greatest hero in all of Persia. Almost. Though he doesn't dislike Rustam, or even hold his death against the man, the fact that his name is overshadowed by Rustam's bothers Esfandyar to no end. He is eager to show exactly why he deserves to be called the greatest.
- Big Brother
- Esfandyar was one of the oldest of Gushtasp's children and while he didn't always get along with all his 37 brothers, he still protected the younger ones, especially Farshidvard and to a lesser extent Peshotan. He has a tendency to try to protect those younger than he whom he considers incapable of defending themselves. In fact, this desire is so strong, it is possibly the only thing more important to him than following orders without question.
- Impatient
- A bit more than is really proper, courtesy of his youth. He doesn't like to waste his time with pointless delays, especially when it comes to fighting. Why bother feasting with the one you've come to fight? Why bother talking with those who you were sent to kill? He has no time to indulge his enemies when serving his lord.
- Passionate
- Whatever Esfandyar does, he does without holding back. No matter what task, he will perform it as though it is the most important thing in the world. His sense of duty compels him to act this way, especially with any order. At least those that don't violate his personal code anyway...
LIKES[/color]: //
- Zoroastrianism
- Zarathustra
- His family, excluding his father
- His brother, Farshidvard
- The abstract idea of kingship
- Ahura Mazda
- His son, Bahman
- Loyalty
- Rustam (Wants to beat him, but doesn't hate him)
- Persia
DISLIKES[/color]: //
- His father, Gushtasp
- Garzam
- Arjasp and his sons
- Turanians
- Daevs
- Ahriman
- Being imprisoned
- Disloyalty
- Treachery
- People who make fulfilling his duty harder than it needs to be
STRENGTHS[/color]: // His skin is effectively invulnerable thanks to his bath in the Pool of Invincibility. Incredibly strong and can take and deal a lot of damage, Esfandyar is a juggernaut. Skilled in the use of various weapons, he can change his combat style easily keeping an opponent off guard. He will follow any order given with his full effort.
WEAKNESSES[/color]: // He will follow ANY order given by his master, even those that are incompetent or detrimental to their cause. Also, his eyes are incredibly weak and can result in his death if hit with fatal force, so he tries to not to bring attention to that fact.
[/ul][/size][/blockquote]
MY LEGEND: //[/color]
Wikipedia article for Esfandiyar
Isfendiyar
Isfendiyar vs Rustam
Haft Khan - elaboration
A story about Esfandyar and his brother
List of characters in the Shahname (including Esfandyar)
MY HISTORY[/color]: // I...am Esfandyar.
I am the chosen warrior of the true prophet, tasked with spreading the path of Asha to those who would normally be led astray. I am the son of Gushtasp, the Shahanshah, the ruler of all of Persia, the first ruler to turn to the path. He was my father, he was my king. I was his son and servant.
I was one of many sons of various ages and mothers. Some of my brothers I liked. Others I did not. Some I knew nothing about. Out of all my brothers though, there is one I cared for the most: Frashivard, who was my younger in many ways. We shared different mothers, but I was closer to him than to my full brothers. When he was very little, he would follow me wherever I went, no matter how difficult I made the path for him. Frashivard was my small shadow, never far behind.
As the 'best' of my father's sons, I had never starved for attention. Frashivard was one of the ones for whom Gushtasp never had much time, so at first I thought it was jealousy that drove my younger brother to mimic my actions. When I trained for battle, he would watch, too young to join. When I studied with the prophet, he would listen from behind the curtains and walls. When I sat in the Shah's court, he would manage to seat himself beside me. I found it annoying at first. He could get hurt if he wasn't careful and I saw him as just as someone to protect.
I thought it was jealousy for the attention our father gave me, but I was mistaken. He did not want our father's approval at all. He was after mine. He didn't want me to protect him, he wanted to protect me. Frashivard simply wanted to be near me. I stopped trying to drive him away. When I trained, he trained with me. He was small, even for his young age, clumsy and uncoordinated. The first time he picked up a spear and tried to follow my forms, he fell. The laughter sounded across the courtyard. Then, with a look, it fell silent. Frashivard rose from the ground, red in the face but without tears and I handed his spear back to him. He did the forms again. And again. Not a single one of our brothers dared to laugh.
When we weren't training for combat, I was listening to the prophet Zarathustra speak. Frashivard was, of course, beside me. For this, he was still too young, but I did not worry for him. His heart was on the correct path, even if his mind could not wrap itself around the Teacher's words. Out of all my brothers, the one who embraced the Path like I did was the Peshotan. It was clear he was not a warrior, but destined to become a priest of this new religion. I was sure Frashivard would follow MY path and become a great warrior, fighting besides my side. Peshotan could lead the devoted, we would bring them to him.
Our family was rewarded by the prophet and our god. For heeding Zarathustra's words and bringing us onto the path of Asa, my father asked for four gifts. The first, knowledge of the next world. The second, invulnerability. The third, perception of the future. The fourth, that his body and soul should not be parted until the time of resurrection. He was never skilled at concealing his greed. The prophet told him as much, stating that such gifts were too much for one man. He was forced to choose one and one alone.
He chose the first: The knowledge of his place in the next world. He was given spiced wine, consecrated in the way of the dron yasht. He beheld the glory of God. The other gifts were spread among three. Peshotan received eternal life. His body would never be separated from his soul. Our father's chief advisor, Jamasp, received all knowledge. And I received the last gift. The prophet led me to his Pool of Invincibility, granting me the right to bathe myself in its waters. I swam gladly, diving beneath the surface. But I could not keep my eyes open. They did not receive the Prophet's blessing.
There was no one who could stand before me. I was skilled in all manners of weapons: Mace, spear, sword, bow, sling, unarmed, I was the champion of Persia, its first prince. I could not be defeated. I did all that my lord asked of me, without fail, spreading the word of this new path.
But word of Zarathustra's presence in our kingdom brought the wrathful eyes of others to our lands. In the east, the agents of Ahriman plotted our destruction. Arjasp, son of the wicked Afrasiyab, sat on the throne of Turan. He had come to the throne when his father's villainous ways had been stopped for good. Though my father was the King of Kings, Arjasp had the audacity to not only refuse my father tribute, but to DEMAND it in turn. My father had acquiesced to this outrage...until the prophet arrived in our lands.
Arjasp sent word to my father, my king, the Shahanshah, his RIGHTFUL ruler, demanding the tribute continue. My father, finally, refused. It wasn't long before the Turanian armies were on our borders, not only demanding tribute, but that Zarathustra be put to death. An insult not only to our king, but to our god. Our reply was short:
"We will raise our swords against any who sway from the path."
Guhstap summoned all the armies at his disposal for this war. So many men, so many horses, that it seemed they outnumbered even the blades of grass beneath their feet. Our armies assembled and I was given command. It was a test, he said. If I could defeat the Turanians, he would consider me worthy to rule and give me the crown of Persia. That was irrelevant. It was an order from my king. I wasted no time. As soon as we were able, we marched into Turan.
The battle lasted for two weeks. While others grew tired and rested, I never fell back. My rage against the Turanian drove me forward. I fought their king in combat, his wicked master giving him strength. But it could not match my fury or my blessing. He fled from the field, his army following after in disgrace. I returned home a hero.
I approached my father, reminding him of his promise. I had been victorious, and I desired my reward. I could do much for Persia, I knew this in my heart. But my father could not bear to part with his crown. It was not time yet, he said. There were still those lost in shadow that needed to be brought to the teachings of Zarathustra. I was sent out to turn all the lands to the path. I went to serve my king.
One of my brothers, Garzam, feared me. I was a threat to his own ambitions. While I was spreading the teachings, Garzam was whispering falsehoods in our father's ears, playing on his fears. He spoke of schemes to steal the kingship from my father, claimed that I would raise armies against my king to receive my promised reward. My father's heart was turned to darkness. He sent messengers out to find me, to bring me back to his court to stand for these 'crimes'. I was ordered to return, so I went.
I was not greeted, the Hero of Persia, no. My father ignored me, turned to the nobles of the court around him and told them a story. He spoke of a child who wished to rise up against his father and put his own father to death. He asked the court what punishment such a son should receive. The court answered: "If there be a son so evil, let him be put into chains and cast in bondage."
I was not prepared for my king's next command: "Let Esfandyar be put in chains."
I protested, asking the reason for such an order. Had I not done as he asked? Had I not been his loyal servant? When had I given him cause to doubt me? But he would not listen. He turned his face from me. Ahriman had worked through my brother Garzam. He stood beside my king's side, smiling as his wicked scheme came to fruition. I did not resist as they threw the chains over my body. After all, my king had ordered it. I could not refuse.
I spent years in the dungeon, in isolation. Weighted chains kept me low. No one visited me, under my father's command. None but Frashivard. Only once. Early in my imprisonment, Frashivard would sneak into the dungeons. Not even our father's wrath could dissuade him from following me. At first I welcomed his company. It was a comfort, a light in the darkness. I had not been completely forgotten.
It was selfish of me. He was risking father's fury, as well as violating an order from his king, but I was willing to forgive him of this. I was so lonely in the darkness. When he was not there, my only company where the daevas, whispering lies in my ear, trying to turn my heart away from the path. Frashivard kept them at bay with his very presence.
During one visit, I noticed his skin was raw around his shoulders. I inquired into the cause. He evaded, trying to change the subject, but I persisted. He had been caught. Death was the penalty for visiting me, but he had been spared that. Apparently Jamasp had advised against death, but Frashivard had still broken the law. He had to be punished. The whip had torn his skin and STILL he risked his health, his life to visit me.
It would not continue. I had been selfish, letting the fear of the daevas and the darkness blind my reason. I forbid Frashivard from visiting me further. I ordered him to leave immediately and to obey his king. To forget about me, as the king had commanded. He argued, but I would have none of it. I turned away from him, staring into the darkness. There was no light in my dungeon, except the one Frashivard carried with him. It did not matter. For his sake, I could no longer fear the dark.
His footsteps disappeared. The light was gone. I sat alone, bound in chains, a forgotten hero, my only company the daevas. I repeated the mantras the prophet had taught me, from the moment I woke up until I fell asleep. Time and self were lost in the darkness. The teachings were all I had left.
I am told years passed before I was allowed to see the light again. We were under attack once again. My father had lost his army against Arjasp. He needed me once more. He promised me the crown if I was successful. The chains still kept my body down.
I laughed. I sent the messengers out from my presence. How long had I been kept locked in this dark place? How many had spoken out on my behalf when the king had dealt me this injustice? He had desired me forgotten, now he wanted me to trouble myself for his sake. No. The chains could stay. After all, I had been ordered to prison, there I would remain.
They said my father had been shown the falsehood of Garzam's words. That my father had promised to deliver Garzam to my vengeance. I turned away from them, back to the darkness. My brother's treachery was the work of Ahriman. He would suffer in the world to come. I would not taint myself with spilling the blood of a brother. The messengers went. I was alone again, but not for long.
Jamasp, the seer, my father's vizier, blessed with future sight, came to me. He repeated the message: My father had need of me once more. I was ordered to serve. The daevas had clouded my mind and I refused. "My father has other sons." I told the seer. "Let them lead his armies. He has no need of me."
"You have lost your sight." Jamasp scolded. "Your brothers have been slain. Only Peshotan remains." His words pierced through the darkness that had covered my mind. Slain? Impossible. I did not wish to believe such harsh truth. "Farshivard...?" I began, but Jamasp silenced me with a disapproving glance.
"The haze of the sins of your previous lives has severely clouded your judgement today, for even as you stand proud and haughty in your refusal, your dear brother Frashivard lies mortally wounded in Arjasp's bondage, holding on to each harrowing breath the fond hope that his beloved Esfandyar may come and avenge his brothers' deaths."
His words cut through me. Frashivard, the only light in those years of darkness, was dying. I thought I had been fighting Ahriman all those years, but he had cast his shadow over my mind. My brother was dying. It was not righteousness that kept me in the dungeon, it was pride. My brother was dying. My brother was waiting for me. I was sitting her in chains instead of by my brother's side. This would not do. My brother was waiting. They must come off. I must go.
The men sent to take the chains off were too slow. Why were they taking so much time. It was infuriating. My brother was waiting, did they not realize this? I didn't have time for this. I tore the chains from my body. It was faster. My king had ordered me chained. He had ordered me to fight. What right did I have to deny him? My brother was waiting. Had been waiting. Was dying. Had to go. No choice.
I put on my armor. I mounted my horse. And I rode. There was no army at my back. My rage had returned, bringing my sense of self with it. Too long had I been lost. I would not make that mistake again.
We arrived at the site of the battle. The dead had not yet even been dragged away. The ground shook beneath my horses feet. I cried out, no words, just raw fury. The enemy laughed out of arrogance. They had just defeated the armies of Persia, slain the king's sons. What could one man possibly do?
Their king had invaded because I was chained. I was no longer bound. They had made a mistake. They had not fled in time.
I cut them down with my sword. When it shattered, my arrows darkened the sun. When I ran out of arrows, I gutted them with my spear. When my spear broke, I used my fists. Their weapons broke on my skin and I tore through them to where they were holding my dying Farshivard. He lay on the pile of my father's sons, shaking from the pain. I ran. I would not allow him to depart from this world alone.
He turned his head as I ran. It was all he could do. Our eyes met as I held his head in my hands. I cried. I cried unashamed, my heart breaking at the sight. I had sent him away from my side, unable to bear seeing him hurt. Now...now...
"Don't...don't cry for me, brother." His voice was breaking with the pain. "Ormuzd has granted me my wish. The darkness has left you..." I had sent him from my side. I had thrown the light out of my life. He...He accepted this, this death.
I cried, despite his words. I cried at my own foolish pride. I had turned away from the path to embrace the darkness...and I thought I was the victor! Farshivard died in my arms, his last desire granted. I laid him down as the Turanian army surrounded me.
I rose. My favorite brother, the one I had sworn to protect, was dead. I needed no weapons. My body was my weapon. Never before had I been so enraged. How dare they? How dare they take away my light? Ahriman had swayed me once before. I would not let it happen again.
I slaughtered the Turanians. They stood before me and I smashed through. Tens, hundreds, thousands, the number kept rising. I broke them. Alone, I broke the army of Arjasp. They fled from my wrath and those that couldn't I sent to face judgment in the next world.
Once more I returned to my father's court victorious, my dear brother's body in my arms. I had done as he asked, and I was promised the crown. He had nearly destroyed our country. Zarathustra had been slaughtered on the altars of Ormuzd. His sons had been slaughtered. My Farshivard was dead. I had been promised the crown. I could not do any worse.
But of course, the trouble had passed now. There was no threat to our kingdom, I had seen to that. My father refused to keep his promise. Instead, he berated me in front of the court. Accusing me of greedy ambition:
"I marvel that you come before me with this demand; for while your sisters languish in the bondage of Arjasp, it seems to us that this war has not ended, lest men mock us with their tongues. And it has been told unto me that your sisters are hidden in the brazen fortress, and that Arjasp and all his men have gone behind its walls. I charge you, therefore, overthrow the castle and deliver your sisters who suffer. And I swear unto you, when you have done this, I will abandon unto you the throne, and your name shall be exalted in the land."
The third time he had promised me the throne. In truth, I was sick of it. I desired the best for our people, not simple power. He could not see this. Yet he was my king. "I am the servant of the Shah, let him command his slave what he should do."
I was to assault Arjasp's fortress. I did not know the way. My king told me of three roads that I could take. The first was safe from danger but would take me three months to cross, with places to rest along the way. The second was through a desert, safe but dry. It would take two months. The third would take but seven days, but it was the most dangerous of the three.
It was a simple choice.
"No man can die before his time is come. It behoveth a man of valour to choose ever the shortest path."
Seven days it was.
The priests and the nobles tried to dissuade me from this path. They knew the dangers that lay beyond, but I ignored them. I raised an army of those who had survived the disastrous battle my father had led and we marched down the shortest path.
Seven days. Seven days for the forces of Ahriman to stop me. No man had yet made it down this path, but my king had ordered me to retrieve his daughters. Failure was not an option. The first day we were beset by wolves. Pitiful. I put the pack down with ease. The next day, two lions attacked our horses. The world was toying with me, I thought. I wrestled them to the ground, but to my surprise, the lions began to change their form. Daevas in disguise. Monstrous servants of Ahriman. I picked up my spear and pierced their hearts, sending them back to the darkness.
The third day we came upon a dragon, obstructing our path. The men with me shied away in fear. Its very breath was poison. When we stabbed it, its blood turned into burning tar, sticking to our skin. They backed away. It was in MY way. I charged. The air around it was poison; I held my breath. Its blood stuck to me like burning tar; I endured. When my weapons broke, I grabbed it, driving the beast into the ground. I did not let up on my assault. By the time the sun began to set, the dragon was dead, its neck snapped. That was the only night we camped. I was covered in its tarry blood. I washed it off in a nearby spring, but the dragon's blood was so potent it turned the water into liquid tar.
The next morning we continued. A sorcerer, a lieutenant of Ahriman, sought to halt our progress. His magic was no match for my blessed invulnerability. He tried to tempt me from my path. I had fallen for the false words of Daevas once. I had no intention of doing so again. I struck him down easily. The fifth day, the monstrous Simurgh came upon us. Once more my men took cover while I fought this beast. I struck it down with my spear. We moved on before night had set.
The sixth day, the Daevas switched their tactics. Instead of sending a monster to halt me, they used the weather to slow me down. They sent a blizzard, burying the path beneath the snow. If I could not find the path, I could not continue. It was clever, but I did not worry. Ormuzd would not let me lose my way so easily. I prayed to him, asking for his assistance, and the snow melted beneath my feet. The path was made clear once more. The seventh day, Ahriman tried to drown me. The rivers overflowed so that our horses could not cross. I did not stop. When the sun went down, I was standing at the walls of Arjasp's fortress.
The final task on an 'impossible' journey. The walls of Arjasp had never been taken. Yet that was my duty. I could not take it by force. That left subterfuge. I ordered those men who had survived the path, one hundred and sixty men in total, to hide themselves in chests of treasure. For my own disguise I dressed as a merchant, loading the camels we had brought with treasure. We were a simple trading caravan, wealthy and looking to sell. They let us into the fortress without much thought.
Once inside, I hid the chests with soldiers from the eyes of Arjasp's men. I sought out my sisters, finding them serving as slaves to Arjasp. I went to them, told them not to fear and that I had arrived. They recognized my voice, managing to keep their peace as I prepared for the assault. I gave tribute to Arjasp, asking in return that a feast be thrown for all in the hall. He agreed. There was much wine served during the feast and I kept his men drinking until they could not even stand.
I opened the chests I had hidden. Out came my men, fresh and ready to fight. Arjasp's nobles and soldiers could not even find their weapons. We slew them all. Arjasp called for the rest of his army to oppose my few. Blood flowed through the fortress as we fought his entire army but in the end, we were victorious. Arjasp head rested on a spear outside the walls. His fortunes were ours. I escorted my sisters home and gave the treasure we had earned to the people of Persia. I had done the inconceivable once again and the people clamored for me to be king.
Once more I stood before my father, reminding him of his promise. I did not have much hope. The last time I had stood here as a hero, he had cast me in chains. I recounted my deeds and my adventures to him, reminding him that I was his son. One of only two that still drew breath. His response was expected. It was not enough. He was not giving me the throne.
"Truly, you have done that which you claim, and there is none who is your equal in this world, save only Rostem, the son of Zal. And he acknowledges none his like. Now because he is grown proud in his spirit, and has rendered no homage unto me, neither did he come forth to aid me against Arjasp, I desire that you go forth unto Zabulistan, and that you lead out the Pehliva, and bring him bound before me, that he may know that I am the Shah, and that he must do my behests. And when you shall have done it, I swear unto you by Him from whom comes all strength, and who has kindled the sun and the stars unto light, that I will step down from the throne, neither withhold it from you any longer."
He had no intention of giving me the throne. I knew what this order was. It was insanity. I told him as such. Rustam was a hero of Persia. He was no servant of Ahriman, had not been lead astray by Daevas. He would not listen. "If you do not lead Rustam in chains before me, I will not grant unto you the throne."
Still the throne. That damned throne. Did he not understand? I did not want power for the sake of it. I wanted to help. The throne wasn't necessary to do that. "You are sending me forth in falsehood on this enterprise, for truly no man has stood against the might of Rostem," I answered his demand, "But that is not the true purpose of this order. I perceive that you desire not to abandon unto me the throne at all." I had enough of this game. My father's word was worthless. His arrogance, his ego, his greed had already led to the death of his sons. What was one more? "I say unto you, therefore, that I desire it no longer; but since I am your slave, it falls on me to obey your demands. I go forth therefore, and if in this trial I fall before Rostem..." The words hang in the air. Not once had I spoken against him like this in his presence. He was shocked. I did not care.
"You will answer unto God for my blood."
I turned and left the throne room. My king had given me an order and I would follow it through the end. I assembled my armies once again. My son was with me, a bit young to fight but I could not refuse his request. Jamasp had long ago warned me that Rustam would be my death. My father wanted me dead. My King had ordered it. A son should be allowed to serve by his father's side at least once.
Peshotan rode with me. He begged me to turn away from this path. Our father had clearly been corrupted by Daevas, there was no point in following such dark orders. I did not heed his council. I was ordered to bring Rostem in chains. I would not stand before my God as a disloyal servant.
We arrived in Zabulistan, where Rostem dwelt. I sent messengers to the champion, stating my intention and that I meant him no harm. My son delivered the message: The king thought he had grown too arrogant. If he would let me lead him to my father in chains, he would come to no harm. It was the truth. I would see to it. The reply was polite, formal, and an absolute refusal. He thought his king's command was a choice.
We met by a wide and deep stream. His horse waded through it against the current as though it was nothing. He seemed pleased to see me, despite my mission. It made no sense. I was here on the order of my king to bring him in chains. Why was he greeting me as a friend? The old man invited me into his house as a guest. I did not have time for this. "I cannot listen to your demand, for I am under orders of the Shah to bring you to his court in chains. Come with me, and I will see to it that you are not hurt. Know that this is not my desire, but the desire of my king."
I did not need to be told that this was the order of Daevas. I had known before I left the court. But I had no choice. Did they not see this? This was their king. His command was law.
The old man refused. He didn't say as much, but he refused. He said I would shame him by refusing his hospitality, and that if I joined him he would gladly follow me into the city. At my side. Not in chains. Never in chains.
I could not agree to this. "I cannot feast with you. If you refuse to listen to my voice and the king's command, I will be forced to fight you..." It was pointless. The king's command was for me to die. Why drag it out with formality? "But I will drink with you in my tent today."
To that he agreed, returning to his own house to change, awaiting word from me to return to drink and break bread together. But that was not an option. I called Peshotan into my tent and told him my true intentions. Just as I could not entire the house of Rostem, so could he not enter mine. I would get him to fight and fulfill my father's order. Honor was second to fulfilling the king's command. Peshotan did not approve. "A Daeva has led you astray, brother. Men like you and Rostem should not meet as enemies. Turn back, disregard our father's foolishness. You are wiser than this. Don't follow through with this evil."
He was scared for me. There was nothing I could do. "If I obey not the words of the King, my father, it will be a reproach unto me in this world, and I shall have to render account for it in the next before God, my Maker. And I would not lose both worlds because of Rostem."
He had given his council, he said, it was mine to do with as I wished. He left my tent to pray. The feast was ready, but I did not send for Rostem. I let him wait...and wait. Until finally he arrived in our camp on his mighty horse, furious that I had shamed him so. He had left me little choice though. He chastised me for insulting him so greatly, reminding me of his deeds, how I was just a boy compared to him. I raised my hands in peace. I had been tired, I said, it had been a long hot day. I had planned to visit him in the morning, but since he was here, he was welcome to join me. I made room on my left.
The insult was not lost on him. His place was on the right hand of the king, or in this case, the prince. I ordered a golden chair be brought for him, to 'appease' him. The true insults were yet to come. As we drank, I proceeded to shame him. I called him monsterbourne, that his wet nurse had fed him worthless garbage as a child. He grew offended, recounting his deeds. I recounted my own in turn. I feigned disinterest, arousing his fury. He would fight me. I would fulfill my king's order to the death. Eventually he saw through my ploy, once again praying for me to turn aside from this path and be a guest in his house. He would gladly join me in returning with the Shah, and when I succeeded my father he would faithfully serve as my champion. I refused his council.
"Suffer that I put chains about you and lead you forth into Persia, so that Gushtasp will be satisfied. But if you will not do this thing, I will force you with the spear." Still he prayed that I disobey my father and ignore the council of Daevas. It was useless. I would not be swayed. "I ask of you, old man, that you waste not words concerning this matter, for I will not disobey the orders of my father. Prepare yourself for combat; for tomorrow I will make the world dark to your eyes."
He left. I prepared for the day to come. My brother came to me again, pleading with me. I sent him away. I had no choice. I had no wish to hurt Rostem, but he had forced my hand. I would bring him to my father in chains or I would die.
We met the next morning on the field of battle, the two champions of Persia forced into this fight by the wicked order of the king. Still he persisted in begging me to turn from this path. The old man was beginning to annoy me. I refused to stray. I had done so once before. So we fought. We fought with every weapon. When one broke, another took its place. Sword, shield, mace, whip, spear, we clashed but neither of us gained the upper hand. I let him rest as we prepared for another round, this time with bows. Our arrows filled the sky, but when the sun shone down upon us, he was in pain from my arrows, his horse nearly dead. I stood, unhindered.
I called for him to surrender to me, but the old man refused. He said we would meet again the next morning, picked his aching body from the earth and swam across the river. Even I could not deny the strength the old man had. It should never have come to this, but there was no turning back from the path.
The next morning, he appeared at the river, his wounds healed completely. He had visited Zal the Sorcerer. He would be as fresh as I was. It did not matter. Once MORE he cried out for me to cease this foolishness, repeating the words that had long since grown tired. I had enough.
"Will you be quiet!? You demand of me to stray from the paths of God, for I do wrong when I obey not the voice of my father, the king. Choose now between chains and combat."
I made ready for combat. He had chosen the bow. A foolish choice as yesterday had shown. I picked up my bow and readied my arrows, turned to face my adversary...and his pronged arrow pierced my eyes. I fell from my horse, blood pouring from my face. My brother and my son rushed to my side, but there was nothing that could be done. Fate had won. My father's order had been fulfilled. They cried for the evil plight that had afflicted me, but when I found my voice...it was Rostem for whom I asked.
The Pehlvia knelt by my side as I lay there dying. "My life is coming to an end. Grant me these three favors before I stand before our God. Know how much I honor you, for it is not you who has slain me, but Gushtasp, my father. The curse of the prophet shall fall upon his head for this crime, you were just the instrument of fate. But listen now, for I have little left to say: Take charge of my son, Bahman, raise him in your own land. Teach him the arts of war and the policies of court. And when he is ready, place him upon Gushtasp...MY throne, and serve as his adviser so that he might not go astray."
Rostem swore this. It was enough for me. I spoke words for my mother and wives who would never set eyes on me again. I told them to tell my father not to worry, that his throne was safe. I had fulfilled his order. I cursed his name, as I had sworn to do in his court. I was ready to stand before my God.
"You have slain me by the arts of magic." I said, without anger. Rostem. The others I had sent from my side. Only the Pehlvia had been permitted to remain.
"It is true, for you would not listen to my voice, and I could not bend my spirit unto chains."
"I am not angry with you; you have done what you could not choose, for it was written in the stars, and surely that which is written in the stars is accomplished."
"God is my witness that I strove to turn you from your resolve."
"Yes. I know."
And with a sigh, my life ended. I had done what I had been asked to do. I had died so my father could keep his throne. There was nothing I could have done.
MY GOALS[/color]: // Simple. To serve his Master and win.
NOBLE PHANTASM[/color]: //
Vairîm Kehrpem
The Gift of the Prophet
Rank: B
Type: Support
Range: Self
Max Targets: Self
Despite his father's many heinous flaws, he was a devoted follower of the prophet Zarathustra, known in the west as Zoroaster. To reward the house of Vishtaspa for their faith, Zarathustra allowed the crown prince to drench himself in the waters of invincibility. His body became like metal, unable to be hurt or killed in combat. Except for one part. When he had been bathing in the pools of invulnerability, he had kept his eyes shut. This weakness would be the death of him in a battle fate said he must lose.
As with the other heroes that bear the gift of invulnerability, this ability manifests itself as a defensive noble phantasm, negating the very concepts of injury and death. Similar to the famous Greek heroine, attacks of any form A rank or higher will be able to pierce his 'ultimate' defense. Everything else will be unable to even cause him a scratch. The concepts of injury and death CANNOT exist on his body otherwise. Instead of being damaged when hit, the affected part of Esfandyar's body turns into an unbreakable metal until the fight is concluded.
The exception, as there must always be, is the one vulnerable area. Just like Achilles has her heel and Sigurd his shoulder, Esfandyar has his eyes. No matter what rank an attack to the eyes is, it will be effective. There, the concepts of injury and death still exist and his effective endurance might as well be E rank.
As with the other heroes that bear the gift of invulnerability, this ability manifests itself as a defensive noble phantasm, negating the very concepts of injury and death. Similar to the famous Greek heroine, attacks of any form A rank or higher will be able to pierce his 'ultimate' defense. Everything else will be unable to even cause him a scratch. The concepts of injury and death CANNOT exist on his body otherwise. Instead of being damaged when hit, the affected part of Esfandyar's body turns into an unbreakable metal until the fight is concluded.
The exception, as there must always be, is the one vulnerable area. Just like Achilles has her heel and Sigurd his shoulder, Esfandyar has his eyes. No matter what rank an attack to the eyes is, it will be effective. There, the concepts of injury and death still exist and his effective endurance might as well be E rank.
Aurvañtô frena Utayûitî
The Shah's First General
Rank: A
Type: Support
Range: N/A
Max Targets: 1
Esfandyar led the Shah, his father's, armies, replacing the previous general, Rustam. Similar to his predecessor, he was skilled in the use of every weapon of the era. Serving as the general, there was never a shortage of weapons should one break. Spears, swords, bows, maces, shields, armor, helmets, whatever he needed it would be provided.
For Esfandyar, the idea of not having a weapon ready is simply not possible. Using this Noble Phantasm, Enfandyar is able to make any item a weapon he is skilled with using. Picking up a pencil, it will turn into a spear in his hands. A pair of scissors? A sword. They will change in his hands to something familiar. Each one is ranked as a D rank NP, but due to their 'artificial' nature, they are not unbreakable. They can take a lot of hits, but eventually they will shatter against 'real' Noble Phantasm weapons.
Anything can be turned into a weapon...Except for existing weapons. That means that other servant's weapons and NPs cannot be affected by this Noble phantasm. Normally would be sealed under Mad Enhancement, but can be used thanks to EAM.
For Esfandyar, the idea of not having a weapon ready is simply not possible. Using this Noble Phantasm, Enfandyar is able to make any item a weapon he is skilled with using. Picking up a pencil, it will turn into a spear in his hands. A pair of scissors? A sword. They will change in his hands to something familiar. Each one is ranked as a D rank NP, but due to their 'artificial' nature, they are not unbreakable. They can take a lot of hits, but eventually they will shatter against 'real' Noble Phantasm weapons.
Anything can be turned into a weapon...Except for existing weapons. That means that other servant's weapons and NPs cannot be affected by this Noble phantasm. Normally would be sealed under Mad Enhancement, but can be used thanks to EAM.
Haft Khan-i Isfandiyar
A Man of Valor Always Takes the Shortest Path
Rank: B
Type: Anti-Fortress/Defense
Range: 20 meters
Max Targets: 1
Haft-Khan-i Isfandiyar is a technique representing Esfandyar's feat breaking through the impenetrable fortress of Arasp to rescue his sisters. This technique is a homing strike that targets the nearest combatant, regardless of any physical barrier that separates them from Esfandyar. When Esfandyar uses the Haft-Khan, his weapon will strike in the most direct manner to reach its target, breaking through whatever is in its path. Esfandyar does not have to see the target with his eyes, but he does not control who it chooses. It attacks the nearest enemy.
Because of the disposable nature of his weapons, depending on how far away the enemy is, Esfandyar might throw his weapon, letting it create a clear path to his opponent by itself. Any skills that increase an opponents skill to dodge or a high agility will naturally be effective in avoiding being hit by this technique.
Because of the disposable nature of his weapons, depending on how far away the enemy is, Esfandyar might throw his weapon, letting it create a clear path to his opponent by itself. Any skills that increase an opponents skill to dodge or a high agility will naturally be effective in avoiding being hit by this technique.
CLASS ABILITIES[/color]: //
Mad Enhancement: D
Rank up for Strength and Endurance, but in exchange one can no longer think and speak properly.
SKILLS[/color]: //
Eternal Arms Mastership: A
Prevents degradation of fighting skills when under the effect of mental hindrance. By complete merging of mind, body and technique, it is possible to make use of full fighting skills even when under the influence of any sort of mental hindrance. In his battles, Esfandyar showed skill with every weapon, even fighting the great warrior Rustam to a standstill, forcing the great hero to retreat from the fight.
Bravery: B
Capacity to resist mental interference such as pressure, confusion and fascination. Immunity to psychic and psychological ailments.
Golden Rule: B-
Measures one’s fortune to acquire wealth and represent the accumulated wealth that one possesses. At this skill level, one can easily gather monetary resources under a short amount of time, but will not keep it. This represents not only the wealth and resources Esfandyar commanded as a king under his father, but to the treasure and loot he brought to Persia from his adventures. However, instead of hoarding his wealth, he rewarded his father's subjects and servants greatly from his own pocket.
Sealed by Mad Enhancement.
Charisma: C
The talent to lead an army. Leadership at the level of a General or Governor.
Sealed by mad enhancement.
STRENGTH[/color]: // B / A
ENDURANCE[/color]: // B / A
AGILITY[/color]: // C
MANA[/color]: // C
LUCK[/color]: // D
NOBLE PHANTASM[/color]: // A
[/blockquote][/size][/ul]
FACE CLAIM[/color]: // Gajeel Redfox
OTHER CHARACTERS[/color]: // W1: Cirillo W2: Fionn, Paris, Arlen
MISC. INFORMATION[/color]: // My Avestan is god awful. Don't judge my poor language skills! Also...I hadn't planned to write such a long history, so sorry 'bout that. Not really, because I liked writing it, but yeah. Longer than I thought it would be.
[/size][/ul]
