Male Human from Tamriel
Tamizander the Great, the Mighty, the Intrepid, etc.
Inventor of the stringed instrument, the Guitar
Chaotic Good Bard
Olidimara / Milil
Tamizander was born to an average family in Tamriel. He spent his youth as most
children do with the majority of his time occupied by playing and chiding other
children. In his tenth year, his mother became ill. His father’s stubbornness
prevented her from finding proper care for her affliction and she passed away within
a month’s time. Shortly after his mother’s passing, his father was arrested on reason
of murdering his wife. He confessed after being charmed, stating that he had been
having an affair with her sister (who had left town after her sister’s death).
Tamizander was sent to live with his uncle in Balmor. His uncle, however, had no
love of children and treated the boy like a servant instead of family. He treated
Tamizander well enough, but was a strict man who never smiled nor laughed.
Tamizander amused himself by singing songs, and when his uncle was too drunk to
keep up with the wily lad, he would steal away and find a musician to play him a
tune. The boy was fascinated with music. The sounds filled his ears, stirred his mind,
lifted his heart, and empowered his soul. He felt invincible in its grasp.
After living with his uncle for five long years, Tamizander’s luck changed. On one of his
routine outings, he happened upon a travelling troupe performing at one of the local taverns.
The singer had come down with something and his voice was gone, save for a rasping
whisper. The musicians played their instruments and the show went on. As the band began
their third number, Tamizander realized that he knew this song! His most favorite song,
capable of rousing the tamest heart and provoking even the diminutive to courage! This was
the Ballad of William Wallace! He was a hero who commanded rebels against their
oppressors only to be betrayed by those who promised him aid. Then, to have his memory
lead the betrayer and followers to their previous goal! In an instant, Tamizander knew what
he had to do. Rushing to the front, he leapt onto the stage. The band hesitated, but he merely
smiled and motioned for them to continue. Tamizander began to sing, feeling the vibrations
in his throat as if they were tremors from the rending of the world. His voice rang out, filling
the room. He had not known that he possessed this vocal power. His only audience thus far
had been himself and the bottles that littered his uncle’s cabin. The band fed off of his
energy, playing harder, more intensely. His eyes closed, his faced contorted, he could see
the battlefield where the hero Wallace’s sword was cast! He could hear the soldiers stirring,
their breathing becoming erratic! He was there! He saw the betrayer charge the field and the
thunder of battle cries and stampeding feet drowned out the musicians behind him! The
song was done, the vision over, and Tamizander opened his eyes. What he saw amazed the
young man. In the audience, every eye was wide, every heart pounded within its chest, every
pair of hands crashed together with vigor and joy. The singer, in the front row, applauded
the loudest. A stream of fresh tears ran down the minstrel’s cheeks. This lad has talent, the
singer thought. The band congratulated Tamizander for his incredible impromptu
performance. Tamizander could only smile, the vision of the song-battle still stirring in his
mind. He had found his calling.
Tamizander visited the troupe and
performed with them while they stayed in
town. When they left, he went with them.
The singer, a half-elf by the name Farad,
took him under his wing, teaching him
how to control his voice, all of its chords,
tones, and intonations. He also taught
Tamizander to play the lute, to
accompany his voice and to provide
respite for his throat. The rest of the
troupe: a woman harpist named Amine, a
male halfling percussionist named
Hannel, a female half-elf flutist (Farad’s
wife) named Salia, and the player of
horns, a jovial man called Steve. Steve,
the horn player claimed, was as good a
name as any. For four years, Tamizander
traveled and performed with them, using
the name Farad had given the crew a
decade ago, The Wind. The name was
chosen, Farad had told Tamizander,
because like the wind, the troupe blew
into town, but did not stay for long. Also
like the wind, though gentle, the
musicians could move the most stalwart
of beings. A poetic name, certainly,
Tamizander had decided.
Tamizander, much younger than the other members was almost as much a
hindrance to the troupe as he was an asset. His love of the fairer sex had forced
them out of town before they had made their numbers countless times, and was
starting to give them a bit of a bad reputation. His affinity for wine had cost them
their wages a few times as well, and the boy was not competent enough to
perform drunk. Finally, Farad could take no more of Tamizander’s recklessness.
Though he loved the boy and treated him like the son he had not yet had, he
knew that in order for Tamizander to reach his full potential, he had to learn
some discipline. Farad left Tamizander in the care of an old friend in the Elflands.
Date of Birth:
January 1, 1970
22 years old
Blue Eyes, Dark Blonde Hair, Fair Skin
5'8" & 130 lbs.
Tamizander is a pleasant looking
fellow, with fair, smooth features, blue
eyes, and dark blonde hair. His eyes
never cease to sparkle, either by
mischief or glee, and his hair is
extremely well kept and sweet
smelling. His most
enduring features, however, are his
smile, dazzling and cheerful, and his
voice. Even his speech sounds like a
Tamizander is an easy-go-lucky fellow who has just learned the fine art of
weighing decisions and conqequences. Still given to impetuousness and
whimsical actions, he has learned to stay his hand (and his heart) when
necessary. Quick to make friends, Tamizander possesses a quality that most
beings find endearing, or at least, not offensive. He is rarely ever without his
lute. He even takes it to the tub with him, unless of course, when he has a
tub-guest with him. He often hums or whistles when he is not directly engaged
in an activity. This is annoying to some, but he does it without really realizing
that he's doing it. He is a jovial man, fond of wine, women, and song. He truly
desires to make his name known, hopefully through writing beautiful and
powerful ballads of heroes and villains. He believes, however, that the only way
to do this is to actually be there when those epic events occur. Of course, as
with any bard worth his salt, he also wants songs to be written about him. He is
given to nights of drinking and skirt chasing, as well as delusions of grandeur.
No one, however, can deny the power of his voice and the effects it and his lute
have on those who hear them.
"Song is the language of
history," said Zander. "It
holds no lies. I am
already composing the
“Tamizander the brave
has come to inform you of
his victory over an unholy
creature so foul; few are
those who can survive
such an encounter! I
have bested a lich!”
"Always room for one more, my good
man!" Tamizander shouted. "That is,
if she's cute. Or skinny. Or young…"
Tamizander spent a year with Farad’s elven friend, Relen. He probably would have left soon after he arrived, but he was
captivated by the elves. Their ease, their tranquility, their understanding of things. And their women. Most of all, their women.
Elven women are just beautiful. He could not believe that there was a race of hotties. Even the ones that looked younger
than him were a century older. The old elf, Relen, took full advantage of the boy’s captivation with the females, using the
women to help teach the lad as well. After all, it’s not often that a man can captivate elven women. Relen imparted many
things to the young human on Farad’s bequest. His crowning achievement was to convince Tamizander that spending all of
one’s time satiating desires was not fruitful, but more important to the lad was that is was also no way to become famous. In
order to make a name for yourself, you do actually have to do something. Tamizander understood how he had hurt the
group with his carelessness. He vowed to take his friends thoughts more to heart and to at least attempt to not make their
lives more difficult, to a certain degree at least. He wouldn’t, however, abandon the pursuit of lusts and desires. That would
be insane. Instead, he would simply remember to do more productive things from time to time and as they were needed. He
would live and laugh and love and lie a little too. And maybe, just maybe, he would get rich and famous along the way. After
all, to pass on life’s pleasures was not to live at all. And, well, that’s no way to live. If it feels good, do it. You just don’t have to
do it ALL the time.
After his epiphany, Tamizander decided that it was time for him to return to the company of men (and of course women). He
wanted to seek out proper adventure, the kind that could actually kill you, but only if you let it. He would find some
adventurers and fortune seekers who were worthy of his talents, and…and…well, he didn’t rightly know just yet, but
whatever they did, it would be worth writing down, you can be sure of that. Before he left, Relen (who turned out to be Farad’
s father) taught him rudimentary arcane spellcasting tips, enabling Tamizander to be able to cast cantrips, and get started on
his way to being a proper bard.
Tamizander decided that he would like to compose songs of his own instead of singing the tunes penned by others.
Though he still loved his favorite song, the Ballad of William Wallace, and countless others, he wanted bards across the land
to enjoy his creations just as much as he enjoyed theirs. He needed inspiration. Seeking a place to ply his trade, find
inspiration, and indulge his senses, Tamizander headed out to what he heard was the finest and largest market on the
continent. This was a good place to earn a living and perhaps find inspiration for the songs that future bards would sing
throughout the ages and carve a name in the land for himself as well…
Zander got wrapped up in events much larger than himself while in the commercial mecca known as Rimule. He ended up
being banished from the immense market, and though at first it was quite a disappointment and a sting to the pocketbook,
things have ended up quite well for the bard. In the city of Belfort, he became a hero, consorts with royalty and has been
called a 'friend' by the prince himself. He has even created a new musical instrument, the guitar. He had help, but unless
you pry, he won't tell you who, though most folks in Belfort know. He is quite pleased with his current fame, but knows that
there is more out here to be had. Though his current activities throw him in the line of danger, he knows the rewards to be
gained outweigh the risk, if just barely. After all, what's a life without wealth, women, and fans?
"Serving under Dycannus in the battlefield is our brave bard, Tamizander
Kerensky," the prince went on. "Tamizander helped us to crack the mystery
of Dagoth Ur, and now beats back his minions with song and blade right in
the line of fire. Most bards I've known at court are content to sing about
heroism, but this one participates. I've not often heard a bard sing of
another's exploits, but this one I think I shall hear about. And although I am
loathing giving him a big head, I am even proud to call this man 'friend'."