#shakelan

Name: Shakelan

Species: Human

Age:26

Plane of Origin: Fiora

First Planeswalk: Theros

Appearance: 

Colours: Red main then Black and Blue.

Backstory: Born to a glove maker and a maid, Shakelan was never destined to any life of greatness. He grew up in the lowlands beneath Palliano, at the age of 7 he was sent to be a tailors apprentice by his father. His master was an old man named Elestus, with a scraggly greying beard and constantly furrowed brow. Shakelan learned how to sew and stitch and stood by as Elestus did most of the work, until the day Elestus was requested to help costume a local playhouse for their production of “The Fair Maid of Trest.” Entering the round theatre, something struck within Shakelan, an odd feeling of staring at the stage for the very first time and yet he felt at home. The bustle and characters of the theatre both on and off stage enchanted him to his very core. This was where he was meant to be.

He was tasked with being the personal costumer for the queen in the show and like never before he threw himself into his work, stitched and sewed glorious gold strings into her gowns. All the while she talked about growing up in theatre so by the time it was opening night she looked like a true queen and Shakelan has decided there was no other place to be, telling Elestus on opening night who scournfully told him that he will fail, there is no future in something as volatile as theatre.

Shakelan joined the company as a costumer and before long had his place on stage as well, where he became a fairly noted actor. No one told of his great performances but they all still laughed at his jokes, though he could never get them to cry like other actors he compared himself too. And though his ego grew and he would flaunt his place and status to steal the hearts of local girls there was always that desire to make people cry at his command. Not to make them sad but just to be able to have the control of the other actors in his troupe.

Eventually he decided that clearly it wasn’t his acting that was at fault, but the writing. So he set about writing a play that would surely make the world weep. The story called “The Tragedy of Corona” was about a king whose daughter and kingdom would be destroyed by the other members of his court, and Shakelan was certain with the amount of death and woe in the tale that no one would be able to laugh. He would chase every other emotion. And so, when the curtains closed on opening night and the audience made no sound at all. Shakelan was certain that he had shaken them into silence, proud at his accomplishment he strode onto the stage to take his bow as writer and lead man ready for the thunderous applause.

Instead of applause he heard the audience boo and geer, the shock and horror of losing those who once loved him shook Shakelan until he saw a tomato fly out from the audience towards his face. Shielding his head he prepared for the splat of the tomato. But it never came, lowering his arms Shakelan looked around and found himself staring at a new sky. Beneath this sky, Shakelan would find stories worth telling.