Post by Alex on Feb 27, 2012 13:46:16 GMT -5
GENERAL
Full Name: Alex of Pearlmouth
Race: Human
Age: 37
Gender:Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Birthplace: Pearlmouth, a human port city in the south.
Residence: Has no permanent home except his family mansion back at Pearlmouth.
Affiliation: This man is a mercenary, traveler, assassin.. whatever his customers wish.
Occupation: Mercenary
Religion: Does not believe in the Gods.
COMBAT
Class: Warrior
Character Stats:
Strength: 1
Dexterity: 1
Willpower: 1
Magic: 0
Cunning: 3
Gear:
Light mail with a flexible leather padding under it.
CHARACTERISTICS
Appearance: Height: 1,84 cm / 6 ft 1 in
Body type: Alex has a balanced body. With his long feet and arms he has longer reach than most people. He isn't extremely agile or strong, these traits could rather be descripted as "balanced" for him.
Eyes: Alex's eyes are medium-sized and their most usual position is an ironic squint. Their color is light grey, and their deepness makes him look older than he really is.
Hair: Being a mercenary, Alex has no time to care for his hair nor does he usually even think about it; he simply lets his brown hair settle as it sees fit.
Face shape: His face doesn't have any remarkable deformities or other recognizable traits. His nose is long but rather small, almost touching his rough moustache. His moustache is connected to his slightly less ragged beard, which he usually shaves once he visits a major town.
Distinguishing marks: Ironical squint of eyes and his moustache.
Fashion Sense: He rarely bothers to care about fashion. He usually keeps a fine suit with him, stuffed safely in his backpack, although he rarely uses it. He tends to wear what the occasion requires. His most-used outfit is his chainmail under a grey, hooded cloak. He likes this outfit, because it tends to make an impression to people.
Personality: Alex's motto is "every man for himself". He focuses on his own survival, which is mixed with his strict sense of personal honour: he isn't the type of person who likes to betray others. Alex would betray people only if he believed it would be his only chance to live, but he wouldn't obviously tell that to anyone. Alex has always had this subtle need for attention, the need to impress people and get their attention. He never had any lack for attention or love, but he simply wanted more. Perhaps by simply growing up, or by his own thoughts, this need for attention diminished although it never fully stopped. He still loves to be praised, lifted above others in rank and power, but he has learned to treat his lowers kindly and justly. Although his personality is mixed, he is opportunistic. If he would have a chance to kill an enemy of his, he would do it without hesitation.
Alex is rather idealistic, being more the dreamer-type than straightforward, but it doesn't usually affect his job. He almost bursts of ideas, and he is eager to share them. Not being the most chatty sort, he likes to keep to himself and only talk to his closest friends if any are present. He feels like an outsider when interacting with new people, except if someone who knows him is present.
Alex has large political views on the whole continent, which he likes to summarize to three simple words: "they all stink." He hates how the small nobility use their people as serfs and reap all the gains, while the populace cannot rebel since they want to protect what little they have. He likes to discuss politics, however, since then he can at least express his emotions.
HISTORY
Alex, being the firstborn and only son, received a lot of attention since birth. Alex's family was one of the wealthier ones in Pearlmouth, but not wealthy enough to be nobility. As soon as Alex could realize it, he was the center of attention. Everyone liked him, and Alex could do nothing but smile and laugh, and almost seven years passed without anything to darken the golden ages of Alex.
But the golden ages didn't continue for a long time. As Alex grew in his superior position, others became to get jealous. It didn't help that Alex seemed to lust for more attention, although he already received the most attention in the whole town. The people spoke of the spoiled child, and wondered what he would turn into as an adult. Alex's parents heard of this, but they didn't tell Alex. Instead they let him live a few more years in the false feeling of happiness and safety. What harm would that possibly do?
Alex had always been fascinated of tales telling about heroic deeds, war and great battles. He liked to spend time with his father, who told him tales - some truth, some made up, but nevertheless they were great. Alex developed a growing sense of honour from listening to these stories, and they lit a fiery urge to see new lands far away from Barzun, to travel far away and to test his skills. Since he knew that his father was easy to persuade, he decided to ask immediately. Alex caught his father coming back from the market stalls, and he asked him straight away about all sorts of things: hunting, use of weapons, travelling. Avinar was, at first, shocked. He didn't want to help Alex to learn to kill, he said, but as Alex was persistent and relentless, Avinar finally complied. Money changed hands and Alex received a tutor, an old man called Oluf. He taught him the use of bow and sword, how to easily down a beast and how to move so quietly that even animals won't notice you. Alex was a quick learner, and after two years Oluf had teached Alex everything he knew. The two had became good friends, and Alex spent time with Oluf rather than anybody else.
But as Alex turned 18, he became to think of leaving to forge his own destiny. He knew enough to survive in the woods, but he still had to plan his journey. His father encouraged him, and even helped him to plan his journey. Avinar knew a lot about the lands northeast of Pearlmouth, since he had travelled there many times in the past. The two decided that Alex's destination will be Tyra, just to the east of Pearlmouth. Alex would travel through the woods and arrive in Tyra, restock, and continue to whatever direction he'd wish.
Avinar came to Alex on the parting day. He said he had something important to tell to him, and that it was urgent. But Alex doubted. He thought that his father wanted to cancel the journey on the last minute, and he feared that it would happen if he'd go and meet his father. But it could also be something really important, perhaps something vital for his journey. But when Alex thought of the second possibility, he was filled with selfishness and pride. He had to forge his own destiny, why would he need help anymore? Indeed, this would be his journey and his alone.
Alex departed safely, and Avinar heard of it. He was confused and angry for his son's betrayal, and he never forgot it, not until he died.
A STORY RELATED TO HISTORY OF THIS CHARACTER
Alex spent the next couple of years travelling between fiefs, exchanging news and gathering money by doing small jobs. He noticed that he liked the wildlife, he liked to be on the move and even more he liked the attention he received when acting a travelling ranger in taverns and pubs - everytime he entered a town, he was the centre of attention. He enjoyed it, but was ashamed if he stayed too long in a town. He made it his rule to only stay for one week maximum, and then he would depart for a new town.
It had been four years since Alex had left his hometown. He was now 22, and already skilled with the bow and sword. He was travelling along the riverbanks. Alex had hoped to reach Corus by the next day's evening by following the river. The forest around him wasn't dense, but it somewhat limited the sunlight - the ground was spotted by shadows of trees and leaves, and the wind was calm. It was quite wet down there, and as it was August the muddy ground was decorated with leaves of all sorts. Most of them were yellow and red, but some had still bits of green in them and some had already turned brown. As Alex stepped down beside the riverbank, ever going northwest, he was deep in thought. Like always as he travelled, he reserved this time to think through his personal problems and to plan ahead. Sometimes he turned away from these thoughts and thought of emotion, passion and the world as he understood it. Right now his thoughts weren't so complicated, though. He simply thought of what food might he order when he arrives at the local tavern. But then his thoughts were interrupted, as he thought he'd seen something from the left corner of his eye. He quickly turned around, eyeing the forest. He paused to listen to any unusual noises, and he heard it: slight rustle from behind the tree to the right. Certainly not a noise animals would make. He thought for a moment. "Should I unsheath my sword or demand him to come out?" but Alex didn't need to decide, as the noisemaker stepped out from behind the tree. It was the most odd-looking man Alex had ever seen. He wore a half-red half-yellow tunic, and the yellow side of the tunic was covered with red stripes and the red side of his tunic was covered with yellow stripes. His pants were of the same colour, and he didn't have a hat. His boots were made of soft leather, suited for traveling long distances. Alex had heard nothing for the whole way; he thought, "How did this man find me? Why didn't he attack earlier? Or did he just catch up with me?"
Again, Alex's thoughts were interrupted as the man spoke. His voice was calm, and it had no recognizable feelings except perhaps slight joy. Alex didn't really listen, though, as something had caught his attention. He had just noticed it, but the man had a long, curved dagger on his right hand. Where had that came from? Alex raised his gaze, and drew his sword from the scabbard which was hidden under his cloak. He cast down the cloak, and let the odd man notice he had was armed. Alex had a traveling suit made of hard leather under the cloak, hardly offering any protection, but it was light and flexible. The odd-looking man grinned, and after a slight pause he charged at Alex. The hard leather suit proved it's worth, as Alex dodged the first blow of the vicious dagger. The odd-looking man continued his fierce attacks, as Alex kept dodging them. Then, as the man was about to try a stab, Alex remembered one of Oluf's lessons about the use of buckler. He quickly leaned forwards and pushed his buckler forwards. It hit the dagger hard, and the odd-looking man lost his balance for a moment. Alex used these few seconds to strike his sword-arm, and he cut a deep wound into it. The odd-looking man groaned slightly, and grabbed the dagger with his left hand. He began his attacks once more, and as Alex tried the same trick again the man instead dodged the buckler and slashed Alex's left shoulder with the curved dagger. Alex had never experienced a cut before. He let out a cry of pain, but the feeling of pain evaded him quickly. It wasn't probably a deep wound, he thought, as he regained his balance just in time to dodge the next slash. But eventually after a couple more seconds into the fight, the odd-looking man seemed to become tired. His attacks became slower and less powerful, and now Alex began to push forwards towards the man, who now spent the last bits of his energy in trying to defend against Alex's attacks. And as the man tried to parry a blow, Alex lunged his buckler forwards, hitting the man's left hand hard. He jumped closer, lunging his sword forward towards his opponent's left hand. It clashed with his dagger, and now Alex hit the man's left arm hard with the side of his iron buckler. The odd-looking man dropped his sword, and was now without a weapon. Alex thrusted his sword towards the odd-looking man's groin, piercing it and killing him almost instantly. Only after he had done this Alex came to thought of the man's true motives. But the joy of victory bumped in his heart and head, and he was too happy to think about it right now. The rest of the journey went safely, and he arrived at Corus two days later.
BEHIND THE MASK
Player’s Pen Name: Alex of Pearlmouth
Contact: miguelk977@hotmail.com / miguelk977@yahoo.com
Roleplay Experience: I started with YATS (http://www.twcenter.net/forums/forumdisplay.php?f=513) But quit it after some while.
I then moved on to a Prophesy of Pendor RP, which I'm still a part of.
I'm also a part of the Unsung Heroes, and I'm a friend of Facemelter.
Language(s): My native language is finnish, but I'm quite excellent at english. I might occassionally have some grammar problems, but not usually.
How did you find us?: Facemelter
Roleplay Sample: Two samples eh? Here you go!
Gilrain awoke from his thoughts to a dripping sound around him. He opened his eyes, and in a flash he realized that he was covered by blood, sweat and rain. He felt like melting, but he forced himself to a sitting position, and began inspecting himself.
Gilrain had a bandage on his forehead, but there was no blood - good. As he stood up, he noticed that his legs carried his weight, and slowly the dizziness in his head began to fade away. He inspected the ground. It was wet and muddy around the small grassy area where he fell unconscious. His armour was still intact, it seems, and it shone in the rain. Then he remembered his sword. "It received quite a hit, I hope it is all fine..." Gilrain raised his sword-hand, which was still clutching the fine sword. The sword was perfect. There wasn't even a finest notch in the blade, and it shonevery brightly. Gilrain laughed. "Aurë Entuluva!", he shouted, and ran towards the battle, arriving just in time to see Elendil battle with the troll. But now the hordes of uruk-hai were between these two commanders.
Gilrain shouted again "Aurë Entuluva!", and raised the flag of the House of Fëanor. A few dozen elves flocked under his banner, and Gilrain sounded the beginning of the most daring charge seen during the battle. 50 elves crashed on the uruk-hai, releasing the most deadly combination of pure rage and skill-at-arms. Even when battle-crazed, the elves fought silently - but they were even more deadly. An elven two-handed swordsman cleaved his way through three of the uruk-hai, killing them with one sweep of his blade, and then a few of his comrades rushed in, killing even more of the uruks.
Gilrain crushed the helmet of his adversary with a quick bash of his shield, driving his sword deep in the uruk's stomach, felling it instantly. Another uruk tried to step forward to take his place, but Gilrain recklessly charged at the uruk, beheading it with a strong slash. Slowly the uruks regained their footing and began pushing Gilrain back with their shields. Then, suddenly, mad rage filled him. He shouted aloud, and he lunged himself forwards against the uruks. Slowly, he managed to push the three uruks away, finally killing one of them. Then two swordsmen rushed in, killing the two remaining uruks almost simultaneously. Following their leader's example, the other elves began to push forwards too, and again many uruks were slain on their spots. And then it was when Gilrain finally saw it. He saw the end of their formation. It wasn't far away, and the elves rejoiced, fighting even harder against their enemies. The uruks were pushed backwards, towards Elrohir and the horsemen...
Roleplay Sample:
By now Marcus had arrived at the main camp of the Legion, finding it in the process of a well-organized chaos. His men left on their business, some joining on the formation at the middle of the camp and some entering their tents. He left his horse at the stables amongst the other ironbreds, muttering something to it, and continued towards Lucius's tent. The heavy rain poured in, endlessly, and Marcus grimaced. "What is wrong with this storm... it's almost unnatural..", he thought, as he stepped through the rain. By now the rain was so bad that he couldn't see but for a few meters ahead. Suddenly he stopped, and looked around him. He saw nothing except the rain. He heard nothing except the rain. He felt the rain around him, like a tight rope tightening around his neck and mouth, suffocating him. Marcus fell on his knees, gazing around himself in panic. Suddenly he spots something from the corner of his eye. "Wait, what is that..", he thought, squinting his eyes while trying to see something ahead of him. He focused very hard, but found hard to maintain the concentration. He tried to calm himself, but the panic took over him again. Now he spotted the thing again, and either it was his imagination or it had just became a little bigger. He tried to focus again, using all the last bits of self-control he had left, and finally he saw it. It was only a shadow leaning on the heavy rain... in the shape of a tent. His heart began beating fast. Marcus stood up quicker than he ever believed he could, and spurred towards the shadow, breathing heavily and clutching his chest. The rain was so heavy...so thick...just like on that night when Marcus betrayed his commander, just as thick and just as heavy.. but the rain had started only after Marcus had spotted the Cultists. A nagging doubt grew in Marcus's head.. something in the back of his head.. but he couldn't remember what it was. But now he was too relieved, too happy to be inside again.
And after a time that felt like hours, Lucius entered the tent. He saw Marcus sitting in there, staring straight in his eyes. Lucius startled, and for a moment Marcus saw true fear in his eyes - something Marcus had never witnessed Lucius feel. "Does he fear me?", Marcus thought, smiling to himself. As quickly as he became startled, Lucius calmed and seemed just like his regular self. He gazed ridiculingly at Marcus, and asked with a voice that mirrored the same feeling: "I've never seen you waiting for me at my tent, Marcus. Is this a sign of respect, perhaps a growing friendship between us?" Lucius chuckled and sat down, raising his gaze from the floor to meet Marcus's eyes. Marcus answered the gaze, and spoke with a somewhat lazy, cold and calculative voice. "No, Lucius. It is not a sign of respect this time. Here's a war going on, and where were you? Not with me, that is for sure. And time is precious in war. From now on, I want you to stay with me AT ALL TIMES. No exceptions, Lucius."
Marcus tried to speak with a scolding tone, but he found it hard due to Lucius's ridiculously stupid gaze. Marcus let his eyes fall on the floor, thinking: "I were just about to have a heart attack out there, and there was nobody helping me. I need to keep him close to me, too." Marcus raised his gaze, sensing a change in the air. For a moment, Marcus could again see that fearful look in Lucius's eyes.. "like a wild animal looking for a route to escape", Marcus said to himself. Marcus anticipated that there was something Lucius was hiding from him. "I can only hope that it isn't anything bad.. I don't have time for stuff like this."
Marcus stood up and left the tent, followed my Lucius. The rain had weakened for a moment, and they moved towards the stables again. They saw a part of the legion standing in formation at the middle of the camp, despite the heavy rain. Marcus called out to them:"Centurions Cato and Darius, call the rest of the Legion! The whole army has to be ready at all times from now on!" [/color] As they both were about to mount on their horses, Lucius turned around on his horse with near unmatched skill, quickly followed by Marcus. Four riders with bows in their hands appeared through the rain curtains. They all looked very troubled, although in a controlled way. The tallest and fairest of them showed his armband to Marcus, who read his name, rank and order from it.[/i]"Sir Aldor I of Laria, sergeant of the Clarion Call. Thank gods, you are here. I am very happy that you are! Please, tell your news. They are surely at least informative, if nothing else." Marcus waited for the sergeant to speak..
Password: Gray Warden
