Leon

A young human in his early twenties with a mane of ginger hair- dressed casually in a close-cut tunic and loose, comfortable-looking pants. His body temperature is naturally higher than the norm, topping 105 on an average day. Interesting enough, too, is the fact that his touch leaves a lingering warmth, one that can chase away the cold on a winter day and relax stressed muscles, when he's calm... Or leave searing welts and terrible burns, when he's angry or frightened.

He comes from a world where magic is commonplace, as plentiful as electricity in the world we live in now. As a child, Leon grew up, for the most part, ignorant of such things, however. Born to a small farming village unimportant enough to escape the notice of adventurers and any monster more threatening than a kobold, he spent his young life doing what most commoners in fantasy settings always do: try to survive daily life, and pray that an orc raiding party doesn't come along. And, had fate not intervened, that might have indeed been his life.

But the thing about Fate is that it never seems to be able to keep its nose out of others' business. At the age of thirteen, Leon began exhibiting traits that were considered very uncommon for a farm boy. For one thing, there was the way he suffered from a constant, alarmingly high fever, and yet seemed none the worse for wear. There was also the way that fire no longer seemed to be able to burn him, and how he developed a personality that some might have called 'adventurous', but those around him chose to label as 'dangerous'. But, perhaps, most telling was that way that shit generally tended to spontaneously combust around him whenever he got distracted.

It seemed, funnily enough, that young Leon had been touched, briefly, by energies from the elemental planes. Specifically, that of the Plane of Fire. And as time went on, his abilities became more and more obvious, more unpredictable... And unfortunately for him, magic was not a common thing in his part of the world. Magic was the sort of thing stories were written about. And none of those stories painted it in a positive light. He was ostracized, labeled a witch-child, a blight upon the village... And worse, his family proved to be no shield against the slings and arrows offered by the village around him. Leon thought, for a time, that he would be forced to leave, or else be chased out. Of course, before things escalated too far... The accident happened.

It started as an argument between himself and his uncle. The man was attempting to convince the boy, then sixteen, that he needed to find a way to hide his 'freakish mutation', that he needed to suppress it, or else leave. Leon does not now remember the exact wording of what was said, nor does he remember what happened after... His only memory was of being angry, and frightened... And that he came to nearly a week later in the wilderness, very much lost and alone, and covered in the badly burned rags of his clothing.

He wasn't exactly stupid. It wasn't difficult to figure out what had happened, and so... Leon made no effort to return. What was the point? If there were any survivors, he wouldn't be allowed to come back, and if there weren't... Well, he didn't want to know.

Leon, in this state, had been alone for a long time- shy around people, and shying away from physical contact, believing that he might hurt someone by accident. These days, after a lot of practice and not a small amount of soul-searching, he's quite a bit more confident- bright and cheerful, and intensely passionate about nearly everything he puts his mind to.

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A Loxagn alt.