Post by lamar on Apr 12, 2012 21:27:11 GMT -5
(Image, if applicable)
GENERAL
Full Name: Lamar Valjean
Race: Human
Age: 46
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Birthplace: Orlais, Val Royeaux
Residence: Orlais, White Spire
Affiliation: Templar
Occupation: Knight - Commander
Religion: Andrastian
COMBAT
Class: Warrior
Character Stats:
Strength: 2
Dexterity: 0
Willpower: 1
Magic: 0
Cunning:3
Gear: A Templar Regalia, a polished hunting spear when he knows he'll encounter Abominations, or otherwise Vials of Lyrium alongside the
standard Templar Shield and Blade. The shield is nicked with scratches and a scrotch mark can be soon on one of it's sharp edges near the bottom.
CHARACTERISTICS
Appearance: Getting on in his years, Lamar is rugged man, with a scruffy brown beard, wood-colored pupils, and chocolate hair, most of him hidden underneath his armor.
His psyhique is good, however his body has substained injuries, that occassionally cripple him. He bears his armor proudly however in his new position.
Personality: : Firm yet gentle. Strict yet kind. His belief in Andraste and the Maker compels him forward and would forsake any man over them
but he approaches situations with logic and not cold disdain. He knows the plight of mages, and tried in an environment that fought against him to change
their circumstances. Yet nothing will stop him from doing his duty.
HISTORY
Lamar was a young Orlesian hunter, and to prove his worth eagerly sought to slay a Wyvern to impress his father's friends at a party once. It took him two days to finally track the bugger down with his hunting party, but he returned victorious. He was noticed there by the Divine, a specially invited guest. It was a great honor he remembered, and she even complimented his fighting skill.
Besides his silver tongue, javelin twirling and swordplay came naturally to him, as almost an extension of his body ever since he had first tried it. And to hear the Divine complimenting his skills made his pride swell. He had faced captured dragonlings that were somewhat docile, Ghasts in their little holes, and a single Hurlock, but no one truly important ever noticed him. Eventually circumstances out of his control, due to the blasted Orlesian Game, had his father slain at the hands of a Bard.
Yet after mourning passed, his thoughts only drifted to the compliment bestowed upon him by the Religious Leader of the Chantry. There Lamar chose to take up his blade in the name of the Templars, to fight the horrendous monsters that stood before them. He sought the challenge eagerly, and perhaps the attention of the Divine again. Yet time flowed.
Demons of Desire, Rage, Pride, Hunger, and Blood Mages had tried to slay him and his companions many time over years. Yet never once did he falter, and his experience only grew with his wisdom, leading his men with charisma when thrust into leadership, and taking orders to a cue. He bolsters his shield and took the full-on flame of Rage itself to save his fellow Templar. After some initial experiences his fear dwindled and even as demons tried to tempt his mind, he fought both physically and mentally to out maneuver them and kill. And never did his loyalty falter, even when introduced with Lyrium. For the thirty years after he joined and was affirmed, he drank, guzzled, and savored the blue ore like a drunkard, and relished it like no other.
Yet his eagerness mellowed with age. The condition of the Tower had became clear, and with all the fighting came more risk to the once peerless Templar. With his twilight years ahead of him, he sought to create peace within the Mages home to make it easier for the future generations.
Both sides were brought to him, and slowly he gained a handling of both sides. He often referred to the First Enchanter for their aid, and sought companionship within both groups and encouraged the idea of that they were guardians of mages, to keep them safe from a world that scorned them. Of course his ideal wasn't perfect, but if at least one Templar life was spared the horrors of an Abomination, then he could sleep easy.
Montsimmard was him home for the longest of times. But now he has been called forth to White Spire to assist in the upcoming fight in Andoral's Reach. His views are conflicted between the Divine and the Lord Seeker, and with his new cunning gained from age and experience, his loyalty may find itself at a crossroad, and the blue vials he consumes look less and less appealing, and more damning.
Yet for now he hoped to inspire his fellow Templars in the coming fight.
BEHIND THE MASK
BEHIND THE MASK
Player’s Pen Name: Angelus
Contact: PM
Roleplay Experience: 10
Language(s): English
How did you find us?: Goggle
Roleplay Sample:
Quote:
----
Before him stood the quivering masses of greenhorns and veterans. Very few however knew what it was like to hunt a mage and slay them, using their own phylactery. Fewer knew the power of the foes they fought, yet this could invoke valor much easier for their fear wasn't as nearly as great as those who could only imagine the numbers of said demons and abominations that awaited.
His stallion stopped at the top of the hillside, overlooking the tower an assortment of Mages had hidden themselves within. No doubt practicing blood magic and tarnishing the sacrifice of Andraste and Templars everywhere. His experience could tell from the vague scent of dead corpses, and almost like an iron taste in the air too.
The grip of his blade was grasped and slid from it's sheathe, to point toward the air. The clunks and clanks of armor cluttered for a moment reorganizing themselves to their leader's actions, before his booming voice spoke after a brief silence.
"You are new warriors inducted into our order. This will be one of the many trials that lie ahead of you in your knighthood. These abominations would burn, destroy, and murder all that you loved and hold dear. We templars have stood vigilant and secured the safety of Thedas for eons, and will continue on to a new millenium! We are the heroes of this land, and Andraste is our founder. From her blood we were born to fight those of Tevinter's descent, and to stop their evil at every cost! There are good mages in this world, ones who except the burden of their magic and know that sin tempts them. We safeguard those paragons of sacrifice. But these selfish heathens would ruin their work and name. We fight here not for ourselves but for our place by the Maker's side. If you raise your blade to the flesh of a demon and die, do not despair. For he will take your soul to his thigh and you shall walk with our lord! And there will be some who depart this day. But know this. We are brothers and we would die before we see our land handed over to maleficarum! So pray one last time to Andraste and make your peace. For we charge today into this Spire to do the holy work of the Chantry. May glory await you all, and the blood of demons flow today. Company, charge!"
His blade was flung toward in the night, toward the tower, as he led his men to ambush the renegade association of mages, children and all, to see them slain in their sleep.
Sometimes....he had regrets. But his side by the Maker was guaranteed. He knew this. And so was his fellow men, with each courageous move forever solidifying their station in the afterlife. This is what allowed him to sleep at night.
---
Password: (Read the rules to know it)
Purple Wardens. Just kidding! They're Grey!
