Keillun
Keillun, once of a noble regime, now travels the world, using his talent wisely. Fire being a tool of good, or evil, in combat never seems to assist him in his poor skills to influence. Peering into the sea with his pale sky blue eyes, his mind raced about recent events. Hands gripping the railing hard enough to turn his knuckles white, he set his square jaw and gave no sign of acknowledgement of his surroundings.
The crew all kept a weary eye on him after the fight he had with the captain. Though much would have been gained if there had been no fight. Seeing a terrible storm traveling straight for them during mediation, he had proceeded to warn the captain. His predictions were never wrong, though they were easy to change once acknowledged.
The captain a man of arrogance and personal pride ordered Keillun out of his cabin and back to the hold with the “other peasants”. Dagger out and ready to do damage, the captain had charged at Keillun. Not prepared for the onslaught, Kiellun unwittingly used his power of heat and fire.
Sweat beads trickled down the Captain’s disgruntled face. A lash of fire had whipped at the captain’s face, singeing his brow. Keillun even now, as did the captain, smelled of slightly singed wood. If it were not for his ability to control fire, Keillun would be in the brig. The captain tried no more physical acts, but gave Keillun the impression that once Keillun wasn’t looking he would be placed permanently out of the Captain’s balding hair.
Realizing that it is impossible to change an obstinate man’s mind, Keillun gave up the losing battle and went to prepare for the ship’s inevitable sinking. No matter where Keillun went on the ship he smelt burnt wood as if still in the captain’s cabin. Even the salty air of the sea could not over come the charred wood scent. “ Using fire magic on a wooden ship in the middle of the ocean is indeed moronic”, Keillun later thought to himself.