Post by silk on Nov 25, 2010 1:36:08 GMT -5
Notes: I am brand new to this world, so the more critique the better. Thanks!
Faceclaim: Alexander Skarsgård
Lyrics: Enya
Name: Enion Tysanhir
Age: 190
Race: Elven
Occupation: Nobility, but he maintains his own fortune with smithcraft.
Allegiance: Du Weldenvarden, if this were DnD he'd be lawful neutral. Hehe
Physical Description:
Predatory and cat like, Enion doesn't so much as walk, as he stalks. Eveything the elf does, he does with an intensity that can make any feel one who happens to be pinned by his gaze feel decidedly bug like. Standing just over six feet, he is hardly impressive in stature for any species, but it is not his height an enemy should be worried about. The elf's speed and reach are well known among the other young males of Ellesmera and unless his opponent is his far superior in age, he rarely loses.
Thin as a whip cord, his frame is surprisingly thin for a man who spends most of his free time in the forge. But the years of hard labor have sculpted his body and instead of wearing him down, it has revealed the steel beneath, lending the man an austere and elegant grace. His skin is smooth, if pale and no noticeable scars can be found on his frame. He has seen his share of injuries in the forge, but a quick healing spell has reduced any scars from such work.
It is his eyes that are often noticed first and leave people thinking about him after he has left. They are a grey blue, which like everything else about the man is intense. One is far more likely to see cold calculation in these eyes than any sort of compassion and it is the foolish person that tries to find it in his gaze. Like his entire manner, his eyes are predatory and often he can simply be seen sitting, polishing one piece or armor or another and simply watching the people as they move past.
Although the armor he crafts is impressive in its art and use, he rarely wears any himself. Tending instead towards simple tunics, reinforced with magic to take the heat of the forge. His family never lacked for money, but Enion is an artist and a focused one at that, so his clothes reflect his need with his work. He owns plenty of finery but his rarely sees the light of day, instead staying far in a closet or two in his ancestral home.
Personality:
The first thing anyone notices about Enion is the confidence with which he approaches everything. He is a perfectionist in the truest sense of the word, if he can improve something he will and waiting on another is easily the fastest way to find his temper. Waiting on anything is something he distinctly dislikes. He has a very rare mind and can make complex computations with incredible ease and sees connections most would miss entirely. Thus if he can fix something or improve it, he will likely do so before asking permission. After all it is better to ask forgiveness.
He is almost teeming with energy, as if he is a magnet. When he stands, everyone looks, though they are not really sure why and when he runs, people follow. A natural leader, it takes only a few minutes with the driven man to see why he can produce the reactions he does. He is prone to lending suggestions for improvements on any level and does not always have the best sense of timing to do so. For if something can be improved, why wouldn’t anyone want help doing it? He has been known to step on toes if they come between him and his work. Although in social situations, he can be as adept as any.
With Enion, work and play are vastly different and while he can be driven by perfectionism in his work, when he is focusing on the social he can be remarkably deft. His brilliant mind lends itself to a witty and fast tongue and conversation with the man is always interesting. Enion’s passions vary with the day and the project, but if there is one thing he can be counted on for, it is that he will always have something to talk about, if it is focused on his work.
Like some elves tend to, Enion's eye is often turned inwards, focusing on his craft and tuning the world out. Even if he is still young by elven standards, the vast majority of his time is spent alone, working with the metal that he loves. And as such, he has a tendency to miss a decade or two. So even if his parents are neck deep in the intrigue that pumps the blood of Ellesmera, Enion is more often than not, clueless. Conversations with Enion are often as one sided ed as if speaking to a rock, especially if someone is bold enough to approach him in his forge. Though, if one can get him talking about his work, then the conversation can switch the other direction.
His Achilles heel has always been women. They baffle him, so for as much as he can manage, he avoids them. The list of his romantic entanglements could almost be considered in the negative for the only woman he has spent any real time with is his mother. As focused as he is, he has never even bothered with them and the idea of any sort of permanent attachment seems almost like a fantasy. And as such, he has long since dismissed it and does not bother with any thoughts of such.
His true feelings on personal matters are kept close to the chest, and like his loves, he only speaks about those with a certain few. Enion knows too well the power of knowing the weaknesses of people and how they can be exploited so, he keeps his close. He can have trouble truly opening up to a person and while he gets along well enough with most, he has few actual friends. So if one really wants to know where he stands on a matter, it will take some digging. There is the potential for greatness in the man, but if or when it will ever be tapped stands to the whims of fate.
History:
Some histories have a grand beginning, and yet for Enion, it was hardly more than a whisper in the history of the world. Both of his parents were greatly involved in the intrigue that surrounds and permeates the nobility of Du Weldenvarden and like most elves, he was their only child. They surrounded him with great hopes that fell around the child's ears like a wreath of pine needles. From the start however, Enion was not the outgoing diplomat and world shaker they had hoped for. He was withdrawn, and spent little time with the other children of Ellesmera. Preferring instead to spend long hours conversing with trees or tinkering with what small bits he could find.
As he grew it was apparent he was a very bright child, and his parents did their best to educate him in the normal fashion of nobility. In Ilirea he learned much; in intrigue, the arts, the use of magic, and everything else they could stuff into his young mind. But no matter how fast he caught onto his lessons, Enion never actually had the heart for such intrigues and he quickly grew listless. Despite their child not following their own path, his parents still regarded him as precious and strove to find another path for their son.
He was quickly apprenticed to one of Ilirea's best smiths in the hopes of finding something to bring the recalcitrant child out of his shell . Passion flared in his young heart and it was quickly apparent, that while he would never make the diplomat his parents wanted of him, he could become one of the many talented artists of Ellesmera. And this of course, brought the possibility of more connections, so his parents supported him with the firmest of resolve.
When the war came to Du Weldenvarden, there were many elves that found themselves in his armor and he took to the field himself, enlisting at the first word of humans daring to conquer their land. The few friends he had, or made during those harrowing days were lost in the fighting. And Enion began to see the ways of the world in a much darker hue. The atrocities he saw committed on both sides would leave a stain on his memories. And it was here his opinion of humanity firmed. Enion had seen little of the newest race in Alegaesia, but he could not forgive them for the losses his own race suffered. He soon rose to Captaincy of a squad and he can still name each one of the elves he lost under his command.
When news came that his own father had died on the front, something shifted within the young elf. Soon after the war ended and he returned to his parent's home in Ellesmera. Instead of being consumed by her husband's death, Enion's mother was spurred onwards by it and she grew so thick into politics that weeks would pass without seeing her son. And it was here that their paths diverged at last, being at home simply had too many memories, too many hurts. Enion made the decision to move on, he gathered up what tools he had from his craft and the few spare sets of armor that he had been loathe to part with.
When the fighting stopped he did not stay on with the remains of the army, instead he drifted back into his craft, repairing and rebuilding Ellesmera and the other cities in Du Weldenvarden that had been heavier hit. In the years since the war officially ended, he has spent much of his time traveling from one end of the elvish territory to the other. He kept his own role in the war to himself and for a time simply plied his craft, an itch he could not name pushing him ever onwards.
As he traveled, he had the opportunity to think. The war had been brutal to all involved and just as senseless, why it had occurred at all, Enion found it hard to fathom. It rather seemed to him that both sides had lost the whole of their wits. But he knew so little of humanity, aside from the seeming fact that they bred like rabbits and had some brilliance in creativity in their rapid lives. So he turned from his wandering throughout Du Weldenvarden to turn outwards, queries in the right ears led him to believe that Ceunon would be his first goal.
Roleplaying Sample:
The gentle touch of the first of the sun's rays penetrated through the foggy mists that twined around the great evergreen trees. For a moment the whole world seemed silent, Enion knew otherwise, his senses alerted him of a hare stirring near by and a flock of birds roosting high in the pine boughs. But for this one moment, the whole of the world seemed to be taking a breath. His mount shifted restlessly below him, pawing at the earth and sending the fog curling in eddies around his hooves. The elf laid one hand down silently on his mount's neck and the horse ceased his pawing, ears flicking back and forth, picking up on his rider's mood.
The elf was tall and feline like as many of his kind were known to be. He stared through the great trunks of the trees and out onto the plain beyond. His icy blue eyes were as sharp as any predators and only the slight wrinkling of the skin around his mouth gave any indication of any mood whatsoever. He looked like a human in his late twenties, save for the hardness in his eyes. He shifted almost with a movement that was almost unobservable and his mount began to walk forwards.
As they stepped out of the woods, the elf's back stiffened and he looked around, bringing his mount to a halt once more. The sun rose over the far mountain range and bathed the world in a golden glow and the elf took in a deep breath then dug his heels into his mount's side and the creature surged forward eagerly. This morning the world was new, there were many miles ahead of him, but for now he reveled in the strength and speed of the animal below him, the scent of the pine woods now fading behind him and the sun warming him from above like a benediction. Onwards to Ceunon, onwards to life.
Faceclaim: Alexander Skarsgård
Lyrics: Enya
May it be an evening star
Shines down upon you
May it be when darkness falls
Your heart will be true
You walk a lonely road
Oh! How far you are from home
Shines down upon you
May it be when darkness falls
Your heart will be true
You walk a lonely road
Oh! How far you are from home
Name: Enion Tysanhir
Age: 190
Race: Elven
Occupation: Nobility, but he maintains his own fortune with smithcraft.
Allegiance: Du Weldenvarden, if this were DnD he'd be lawful neutral. Hehe
Physical Description:
Predatory and cat like, Enion doesn't so much as walk, as he stalks. Eveything the elf does, he does with an intensity that can make any feel one who happens to be pinned by his gaze feel decidedly bug like. Standing just over six feet, he is hardly impressive in stature for any species, but it is not his height an enemy should be worried about. The elf's speed and reach are well known among the other young males of Ellesmera and unless his opponent is his far superior in age, he rarely loses.
Thin as a whip cord, his frame is surprisingly thin for a man who spends most of his free time in the forge. But the years of hard labor have sculpted his body and instead of wearing him down, it has revealed the steel beneath, lending the man an austere and elegant grace. His skin is smooth, if pale and no noticeable scars can be found on his frame. He has seen his share of injuries in the forge, but a quick healing spell has reduced any scars from such work.
It is his eyes that are often noticed first and leave people thinking about him after he has left. They are a grey blue, which like everything else about the man is intense. One is far more likely to see cold calculation in these eyes than any sort of compassion and it is the foolish person that tries to find it in his gaze. Like his entire manner, his eyes are predatory and often he can simply be seen sitting, polishing one piece or armor or another and simply watching the people as they move past.
Although the armor he crafts is impressive in its art and use, he rarely wears any himself. Tending instead towards simple tunics, reinforced with magic to take the heat of the forge. His family never lacked for money, but Enion is an artist and a focused one at that, so his clothes reflect his need with his work. He owns plenty of finery but his rarely sees the light of day, instead staying far in a closet or two in his ancestral home.
Mornie utúlië (darkness has come)
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie alantië (darkness has fallen)
A promise lives within you now
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie alantië (darkness has fallen)
A promise lives within you now
Personality:
The first thing anyone notices about Enion is the confidence with which he approaches everything. He is a perfectionist in the truest sense of the word, if he can improve something he will and waiting on another is easily the fastest way to find his temper. Waiting on anything is something he distinctly dislikes. He has a very rare mind and can make complex computations with incredible ease and sees connections most would miss entirely. Thus if he can fix something or improve it, he will likely do so before asking permission. After all it is better to ask forgiveness.
He is almost teeming with energy, as if he is a magnet. When he stands, everyone looks, though they are not really sure why and when he runs, people follow. A natural leader, it takes only a few minutes with the driven man to see why he can produce the reactions he does. He is prone to lending suggestions for improvements on any level and does not always have the best sense of timing to do so. For if something can be improved, why wouldn’t anyone want help doing it? He has been known to step on toes if they come between him and his work. Although in social situations, he can be as adept as any.
With Enion, work and play are vastly different and while he can be driven by perfectionism in his work, when he is focusing on the social he can be remarkably deft. His brilliant mind lends itself to a witty and fast tongue and conversation with the man is always interesting. Enion’s passions vary with the day and the project, but if there is one thing he can be counted on for, it is that he will always have something to talk about, if it is focused on his work.
Like some elves tend to, Enion's eye is often turned inwards, focusing on his craft and tuning the world out. Even if he is still young by elven standards, the vast majority of his time is spent alone, working with the metal that he loves. And as such, he has a tendency to miss a decade or two. So even if his parents are neck deep in the intrigue that pumps the blood of Ellesmera, Enion is more often than not, clueless. Conversations with Enion are often as one sided ed as if speaking to a rock, especially if someone is bold enough to approach him in his forge. Though, if one can get him talking about his work, then the conversation can switch the other direction.
His Achilles heel has always been women. They baffle him, so for as much as he can manage, he avoids them. The list of his romantic entanglements could almost be considered in the negative for the only woman he has spent any real time with is his mother. As focused as he is, he has never even bothered with them and the idea of any sort of permanent attachment seems almost like a fantasy. And as such, he has long since dismissed it and does not bother with any thoughts of such.
His true feelings on personal matters are kept close to the chest, and like his loves, he only speaks about those with a certain few. Enion knows too well the power of knowing the weaknesses of people and how they can be exploited so, he keeps his close. He can have trouble truly opening up to a person and while he gets along well enough with most, he has few actual friends. So if one really wants to know where he stands on a matter, it will take some digging. There is the potential for greatness in the man, but if or when it will ever be tapped stands to the whims of fate.
May it be the shadows call
Will fly away
May it be you journey on
To light the day
When the night is overcome
You may rise to find the sun
Will fly away
May it be you journey on
To light the day
When the night is overcome
You may rise to find the sun
History:
Some histories have a grand beginning, and yet for Enion, it was hardly more than a whisper in the history of the world. Both of his parents were greatly involved in the intrigue that surrounds and permeates the nobility of Du Weldenvarden and like most elves, he was their only child. They surrounded him with great hopes that fell around the child's ears like a wreath of pine needles. From the start however, Enion was not the outgoing diplomat and world shaker they had hoped for. He was withdrawn, and spent little time with the other children of Ellesmera. Preferring instead to spend long hours conversing with trees or tinkering with what small bits he could find.
As he grew it was apparent he was a very bright child, and his parents did their best to educate him in the normal fashion of nobility. In Ilirea he learned much; in intrigue, the arts, the use of magic, and everything else they could stuff into his young mind. But no matter how fast he caught onto his lessons, Enion never actually had the heart for such intrigues and he quickly grew listless. Despite their child not following their own path, his parents still regarded him as precious and strove to find another path for their son.
He was quickly apprenticed to one of Ilirea's best smiths in the hopes of finding something to bring the recalcitrant child out of his shell . Passion flared in his young heart and it was quickly apparent, that while he would never make the diplomat his parents wanted of him, he could become one of the many talented artists of Ellesmera. And this of course, brought the possibility of more connections, so his parents supported him with the firmest of resolve.
When the war came to Du Weldenvarden, there were many elves that found themselves in his armor and he took to the field himself, enlisting at the first word of humans daring to conquer their land. The few friends he had, or made during those harrowing days were lost in the fighting. And Enion began to see the ways of the world in a much darker hue. The atrocities he saw committed on both sides would leave a stain on his memories. And it was here his opinion of humanity firmed. Enion had seen little of the newest race in Alegaesia, but he could not forgive them for the losses his own race suffered. He soon rose to Captaincy of a squad and he can still name each one of the elves he lost under his command.
When news came that his own father had died on the front, something shifted within the young elf. Soon after the war ended and he returned to his parent's home in Ellesmera. Instead of being consumed by her husband's death, Enion's mother was spurred onwards by it and she grew so thick into politics that weeks would pass without seeing her son. And it was here that their paths diverged at last, being at home simply had too many memories, too many hurts. Enion made the decision to move on, he gathered up what tools he had from his craft and the few spare sets of armor that he had been loathe to part with.
When the fighting stopped he did not stay on with the remains of the army, instead he drifted back into his craft, repairing and rebuilding Ellesmera and the other cities in Du Weldenvarden that had been heavier hit. In the years since the war officially ended, he has spent much of his time traveling from one end of the elvish territory to the other. He kept his own role in the war to himself and for a time simply plied his craft, an itch he could not name pushing him ever onwards.
As he traveled, he had the opportunity to think. The war had been brutal to all involved and just as senseless, why it had occurred at all, Enion found it hard to fathom. It rather seemed to him that both sides had lost the whole of their wits. But he knew so little of humanity, aside from the seeming fact that they bred like rabbits and had some brilliance in creativity in their rapid lives. So he turned from his wandering throughout Du Weldenvarden to turn outwards, queries in the right ears led him to believe that Ceunon would be his first goal.
Mornie utúlië (darkness has come)
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie alantië (darkness has fallen)
A promise lives within you now
A promise lives within you now
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie alantië (darkness has fallen)
A promise lives within you now
A promise lives within you now
Roleplaying Sample:
The gentle touch of the first of the sun's rays penetrated through the foggy mists that twined around the great evergreen trees. For a moment the whole world seemed silent, Enion knew otherwise, his senses alerted him of a hare stirring near by and a flock of birds roosting high in the pine boughs. But for this one moment, the whole of the world seemed to be taking a breath. His mount shifted restlessly below him, pawing at the earth and sending the fog curling in eddies around his hooves. The elf laid one hand down silently on his mount's neck and the horse ceased his pawing, ears flicking back and forth, picking up on his rider's mood.
The elf was tall and feline like as many of his kind were known to be. He stared through the great trunks of the trees and out onto the plain beyond. His icy blue eyes were as sharp as any predators and only the slight wrinkling of the skin around his mouth gave any indication of any mood whatsoever. He looked like a human in his late twenties, save for the hardness in his eyes. He shifted almost with a movement that was almost unobservable and his mount began to walk forwards.
As they stepped out of the woods, the elf's back stiffened and he looked around, bringing his mount to a halt once more. The sun rose over the far mountain range and bathed the world in a golden glow and the elf took in a deep breath then dug his heels into his mount's side and the creature surged forward eagerly. This morning the world was new, there were many miles ahead of him, but for now he reveled in the strength and speed of the animal below him, the scent of the pine woods now fading behind him and the sun warming him from above like a benediction. Onwards to Ceunon, onwards to life.
