Looks can be deceptive and that is very much the case for Kazimir. Blunt, very often rude, the half-elji is frequently irritable and extremely quick to anger. This is made worse by the solitary existance he has grown accustomed to. Living in a far and frozen wasteland with only occasional travelers and his sheep to speak with, Kazimir is deeply awkward to the point of socially innept. Even when he has nothing but good intention and wishes, Kazimir appears insensitive and uninviting.

Forced to grow up quickly, he was branded an outcast as a very young child. Any naivety chipped away early, any openness forced down. Kazimir truely was a burden, a disgrace to his superstiscious tribe. The curse of magic blackened his soul, mixed within his blood; a foul thing which would harm anyone around him, spread like a disease. He was allowed to live but ostercised by even his own family.Forced out of sight, left to fend for himself with only the company and aid of another young boy who was marred with the same arcane curse.

Resentment faded. Kazimir accepted he was truely cursed, that something deep within him was wrong. It was him, his fault! Ignorant of all outside the little village's boarders (scant few traders allowed within, fewer travelers and none who practiced the arcane), the supersticion his people bore twisted tight about him and became a mantal he wouldn't release. It became truth.

Chased from his home, fleeing after the other boy he'd called friend cast Kazimir in the role of 'scheming murderer' in efforts to hide his own crimes, Kazimir held tight to his fear. Even after he began studying (magic) in earnest - delving deep into tomes he traded roadside merchants for - magic was still something wicked, something to be remorceful for practicing. The intolerance he brandished towards those who bore the same curse and felt no fear or shame was turning quickly to envy...whether he understood that or not.

Those few who found their way to Kazimir's northern encampment were ill-met. No unnecessary pleasantries or polite greetings. The man might wish for the company of others, but fear and superstition outweigh deep lonliness within him. And incredibly physical -- a touch lingering a bit too long on a strangers arm, inviting lean in so close that one can feel the other's heat -- that touch-starved desperation lead very often nowhere. Anything more that comes of his stilted encounters is pushed asid in favour of suspicion and doub,

Only recently has Kazimir warndered southward. In search of a man who he considers not only 'friend' but feels deeply protective of, he trekked roads he would never have otherwise gone down. He found his 'friend' and clings to him now. Kazmir keeps the man near as though the shroud of danger closing in might be push back the danger still lurking near.