Post by wilddog on Oct 30, 2010 21:00:38 GMT -5
[shadow=black,left,500]“A person does not seek luck; luck seeks the person”[/shadow]
Name: Count Mongoth of Aroughs
Face claim: Wes Bentley
Age: 32
Race: Human
Occupation: Count of Aroughs
Allegiance: The Broddring Empire
Physical Description: Mongoth has a face that everybody immediately likes. He usually has a smile on his face. Not one of sheer bliss, but one that hides a secret behind. A knowing smile. Framing that smile is a beard of questionable length and color. As a count, a certain look and feel is always expected on men of his stature. Mongoth, does not have that. His brown eyes sparkle with joy.
His body is fit. Not well built, but fit. He has a small scar on his left arm, from a fight when a child. It frequently gives him pain and he is constantly rubbing it. He likes to be active, so some muscle is formed. But not alot, as an effect of his laziness. His skin is brown, tan, and without defects. He stands 5 foot ten.
His clothing is of the best cut possible. Made by a local tailor, they are usually greys and greens. Most of them last about a week of use, then are so ruined and ill used that he is constantly buying new ones. He wears gloves, partly to hide his scar and partly to hide playing cards. His boots are always muddy and worn, for they are the only article of clothing that survives. He often wears a had. Ridiculous in size, the wide rimmed hat is an imitation of what the local farmers have. Being in not shape or manner a warrior, Mongoth has no visible weapons on him. He does, however, have a walking cane that hides a blade of hard steel. He also is trained in the art of hand-to-hand combat.
Being a gambler, certain things are always found in his possession, dice, cards, coin, and pouch full of money. The dice are not loaded, but his sensitive touch can determine the dots. The cards have very small marks on them, telling Mongoth what they are. The coin is just normal. His puch of money is never from his own treasury, but winnings from previous games.
Personality:
Mongoth is extremely flirty, jumping from one thing to the next. He tracks with conversations for a while, but not for long. He is known for very short speeches where alot is said. More time for drinking. He is a exceptional drinker but still has a sharp mind. His thinking is typically off the wall, but it gets results. Often superstitious, when he remembers, many think his eccentric. Which isn't to far off.
Being a count, he is always worried about his subjects. He has a soft heart for those who are in trouble. Free with his money, Mongoth has created a city where nobles and commoners can eat together without causing too many difficulties. A fact he is very much proud of. He does get a little nervous when speaking to another official, though.
Being a gambler, he is often lucky. Whether it is by creating his own luck or sheer luck, people begin to suspect he is an elf. When things all hinge upon one little detail, fate twists its ugly head and changes things. When he tries to run from a battle, for example, a river might suddenly decided to overflow. Now, it is always possible that it was a trick by the enemy to corner the opposing army, but all things said and done, he later won the battle against the rebels. Mongoth is always suspecting that fate plays cruel tricks on him. But, it is all a little shaky.
[shadow=red,left,300]"Luck is tenacity of purpose.”[/shadow]
History:
What happens when a person destined for greatness lives a boring life? If a prophecy is made for a person, does it happen? Does a fortune teller tell the future, or creates it? If somebody is ordained to have glory and fortune, and he isn't, will fate push, maybe supernaturally, towards his destiny, or forget it? Can a person run from his future? The Count seems to answer these questions.
Mongoths life was ordained before he was born. His father, Count Faran, had a grudge against elves. Like most humans, he was disturbed by the war and had a huge hate for them. At the time survivors from the war wandered into his territory, Taking his army of volunteers, they outnumbered the elves six to one and the outcome was inevitable. The elves fell, and all were slaughtered, but one. An older lady, who was following the army, pled mercy. Proud and arrogant, Faran promised to give the lady freedom if she would give him something. The elf thought about it and reached into a bag. Pulling out odd objects, she began to tell Faran's fortune. Or rather, His not yet born son. "Great things this son of yours will do. His life will be worthy of many tales. Tales of fame and of honor and of vengeance. Luck will smile upon this man" Pausing, she looked closer. "Yes, this boy will have a great purpose" With her words ringing in his ears, Faran waited for something about himself. But that elf grew silent. Finally, the Count condemned the elf to death. With her dying breath, she told him his future. To have blunder after blunder, until his son was everything Faran wasn't. Dismissing this as an insult against him, he went home to his wife.
Enter Mongoth Faransson. The young boy came into this world with a distraught father. Faran did not want this boy, partly because of politics at that time, but also because of the foretelling. Regardless, Faran quickly grew to love this boy. Playful, smart, and funny, Mongoth was a baby everybody loved. Still, the fortune troubled Faran. If this son will be worthy of songs and tales, he needs training. So, at a young age, Mongoth was trained by the best in combat. Not with swords, but hand to hand. He was drilled in elvish, knew how to survive in the wilderness, knew how to plot and scheme, and other such stuff. But he never turned out to be hero stock. He skipped classes, joked around, and made a fool out of himself. Sadden, Faran gave up and focused his efforts on his dying image. Faran was the spitting image of a leader. Cruel, cold, and unforgiving. He led his city to glory, for a southern city. But, the people didn't like him. At as his name fell, fate stepped in. One day, while fishing, he fell in and drowned in the fast moving current. His son was given the office for the remainder of the year.
Count Mongoth was uncomfortable with his new role. He blundered from one misshape to another. After a year, most people would have gotten used to the job. Mongoth did, but he was something else then his father. He was highly unorthodox and simple, something that connected with the farmers, but not the nobles. He started giving grants to people, not because of social status, but for creative thinking. He began to grow in people's hearts. By the time a year came around, the people of Aroughs begged Mongoth to stay in office. Which he has for ten years now.
Fate still played a part in him. One day, while riding in the countryside, he stumbled upon a man taking a bath in the river. Recognizing him as a cattle rustler, he gathered a small army and hunted them down. If the man hadn't taken a bath (which Mongoth later learned was so ridiculously out of character for the man that is was unthinkable that he was doing so) they would have been gone. Fate has also given him a great deal of luck. Known as a gambler, on the battlefield and in life. Gambles in police work have given him the most success. So much, in fact, that in his spare time he is a detective, under a different name. Great things are often pushed onto him, and he solves them with his usual manner. Out of the box thinking.
Every so often, he feels the need to do more grander things. But, at least now, he has no idea why.
