Post by Solus on Jun 13, 2013 11:46:20 GMT -5
Name:Solus (Birthname: Vaeros Haldthin)
Age: 170
Race: Elf
Allegiance: (Du Weldenvarden, Broddring, or the Riders) Neutral
Physical Description:
Slim of body, and average in height, around 6', with long arms and legs. Elegant and slender fingers, long and scarred, extend from his callused hands, which in turn cap his thin arms. His skin is dark, for an elf, light chestnut, formed from years in the unrelenting sun, from which he got his name. His eyes, in contrast to his dark skin, are light amber, angled slightly like all elves, and his mouth curves up naturally at the corners, making it seem as he is always smiling. From years spent in the wild, his canines have elongated slightly, making him seem more feral than anything else. His hair is short and black, combed back neatly, almost a juxtaposition against his rough travellers clothing. A stained linen tunic covers his torso, and woollen trousers cut off roughly at the knee cover his legs. His feet are bare all the time, and he often carries a leather pack on his back filled with essentials (dried meat, water skin) and a bow and a quiver of arrows. A staff is normally carried in his right hand, which he uses for defence and to kill, and a sharp hunting knife hangs next to his left hip in a leather sheath which he uses to skin any animal he kills. He moves elegantly, like an elf, with a slow ease that comes from near immortality, but has quick reflexes.
Personality:
The main feature of Solus' personality is his aggression. He has lived for so long on his own in the wild that anything has become a threat to him. The loss he experienced so early in life almost drove him to insanity, and although he is still sane now, he is still subject to the beast like instincts that drive him every single day. Because of this, he is quick to anger and is very violent in his outbursts, resulting in his now fugitive status. He is strong hearted, strong willed, and courageous. With people he remains indifferent. It has been so long since he has been amongst his own people, he is unsure as to what to expect, but as he has spent a lot of time around humans, he has deemed them to be inferior to himself, save for a few who have gained his respect. Although he has disdain for most intelligent life, he enjoys the solitude of nature. He has a liking towards all animals, and enjoys (most of all) the company of the werecats, no matter how infrequently he meets one. When he is in the company of werecats would you see Solus genuinely smile. Although he has a care for all animal life, he understands that he can't afford to live off of vegetables like the rest of his elven brethren.
Solus's mind is very much a web, like the minds of all elves, except there is hardly any music in the mind of Solus. On some levels there are vast landscapes, where Solus roams in his waking dreams, that he created from all his favourite places to roam around Alagaesia. And on others, there is just pain. However, years of solitude and reflection have moved that plane deep down into the heart of Solus' mind, so that it no longer hinders his thoughts, but he can draw strength from it should he need it. His use of magic is sparse, at best, simply because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself whilst amongst humans.
History:
Roleplaying Sample:
Mark froze. There was someone behind him. He quickly ran through all the people that would know who he was, and his eyes widened when he recognised the mildly familiar voice. It was her! Suddenly, a maelstrom of thoughts and feeling erupted in Mark's head: How long has she been there? How much did she hear? What do I do now? However, most prominent in his mind was a sense of comfort, something Mark wasn't expecting. It was almost like... he was settled? That, if anyone was going to find out and tread on the innermost part of his character, he would be most comfortable if it was her or Cae. But then, what if she laughed at him? If she saw what this piece was titled, she surely would. Without thinking twice he quickly grabbed the first page where, at the top, scrawled in his untidy handwriting, were the words 'For Molly' since Mark couldn't find a better title. He dropped it inbetween his legs until it settled on the foot pedals.
He paused, and took a deep breath. 'How can I react tae this?' He took a few seconds to consider his available options. 'Runnin' away isnae possible, an' neither is sittin' 'ere, waitin' for her tae leave... No, I've got tae confron' thes, whether I like et or not....' Slowly, he spun on the stool, eyes shut tight and jaw clenched, his face scrunched up like he was about to get hit. As soon as he thought he had spun 180 degrees, he slowly opened one eye, and then the other. Sat on the cold stone floor, a few feet away, was Molly. He hadn't seen her since he arrived at the Haven, but the face that looked up at him was burnt into his memory. Of all the girls he had seen around the Haven, shared a joke with, even winked at if he was in the mood, he had been looking for her. To catch a glimpse of her. He often wondered how he would start a conversation, now he had worked himself up to such an infatuation with her: all conversation starters he had in his mind seemed wrong, and being honest was completely out of the question. Hi, I don't know if you remember me, but i wrote a song about you and wondered if you wanted to hear it... Yep, she'd definitely think he was crazy...
She was looking up at him expectantly, but he sat in silence for a minute, carefully choosing his words. When he felt comfortable with what he was about to say, he shifted in his seat slightly and ran his fingers through his hair. Careful to avoid eye contact with the girl he had spent hours carefully composing the piece he had just played for, he began to speak. "Tah, it took a long time tae write, and I don' think I've really got et down jus' yet, bu' its a start..." He chuckled gently, beofre changing tack. "What are ye doin' up so late?" Even though he was now reconciled with her being witness to his talent, he wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it just yet. He looked up at Molly's face and studied it, now that he had stopped talking. As his eyes passed over her features, he noticed a couple of pale blotches, one on her cheek, and the other, paler one, over one of her eyes.
Without thinking, Mark almost leapt off the stool, his features set in an expression of concern, and landed next to Molly. "Who gave these tae ye?"he almost demanded.
Read more: x-menorigins.proboards.com/user/189/recent#ixzz2W7DxDfJF
Age: 170
Race: Elf
Allegiance: (Du Weldenvarden, Broddring, or the Riders) Neutral
Physical Description:
Slim of body, and average in height, around 6', with long arms and legs. Elegant and slender fingers, long and scarred, extend from his callused hands, which in turn cap his thin arms. His skin is dark, for an elf, light chestnut, formed from years in the unrelenting sun, from which he got his name. His eyes, in contrast to his dark skin, are light amber, angled slightly like all elves, and his mouth curves up naturally at the corners, making it seem as he is always smiling. From years spent in the wild, his canines have elongated slightly, making him seem more feral than anything else. His hair is short and black, combed back neatly, almost a juxtaposition against his rough travellers clothing. A stained linen tunic covers his torso, and woollen trousers cut off roughly at the knee cover his legs. His feet are bare all the time, and he often carries a leather pack on his back filled with essentials (dried meat, water skin) and a bow and a quiver of arrows. A staff is normally carried in his right hand, which he uses for defence and to kill, and a sharp hunting knife hangs next to his left hip in a leather sheath which he uses to skin any animal he kills. He moves elegantly, like an elf, with a slow ease that comes from near immortality, but has quick reflexes.
Personality:
The main feature of Solus' personality is his aggression. He has lived for so long on his own in the wild that anything has become a threat to him. The loss he experienced so early in life almost drove him to insanity, and although he is still sane now, he is still subject to the beast like instincts that drive him every single day. Because of this, he is quick to anger and is very violent in his outbursts, resulting in his now fugitive status. He is strong hearted, strong willed, and courageous. With people he remains indifferent. It has been so long since he has been amongst his own people, he is unsure as to what to expect, but as he has spent a lot of time around humans, he has deemed them to be inferior to himself, save for a few who have gained his respect. Although he has disdain for most intelligent life, he enjoys the solitude of nature. He has a liking towards all animals, and enjoys (most of all) the company of the werecats, no matter how infrequently he meets one. When he is in the company of werecats would you see Solus genuinely smile. Although he has a care for all animal life, he understands that he can't afford to live off of vegetables like the rest of his elven brethren.
Solus's mind is very much a web, like the minds of all elves, except there is hardly any music in the mind of Solus. On some levels there are vast landscapes, where Solus roams in his waking dreams, that he created from all his favourite places to roam around Alagaesia. And on others, there is just pain. However, years of solitude and reflection have moved that plane deep down into the heart of Solus' mind, so that it no longer hinders his thoughts, but he can draw strength from it should he need it. His use of magic is sparse, at best, simply because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself whilst amongst humans.
History:
Roleplaying Sample:
Mark froze. There was someone behind him. He quickly ran through all the people that would know who he was, and his eyes widened when he recognised the mildly familiar voice. It was her! Suddenly, a maelstrom of thoughts and feeling erupted in Mark's head: How long has she been there? How much did she hear? What do I do now? However, most prominent in his mind was a sense of comfort, something Mark wasn't expecting. It was almost like... he was settled? That, if anyone was going to find out and tread on the innermost part of his character, he would be most comfortable if it was her or Cae. But then, what if she laughed at him? If she saw what this piece was titled, she surely would. Without thinking twice he quickly grabbed the first page where, at the top, scrawled in his untidy handwriting, were the words 'For Molly' since Mark couldn't find a better title. He dropped it inbetween his legs until it settled on the foot pedals.
He paused, and took a deep breath. 'How can I react tae this?' He took a few seconds to consider his available options. 'Runnin' away isnae possible, an' neither is sittin' 'ere, waitin' for her tae leave... No, I've got tae confron' thes, whether I like et or not....' Slowly, he spun on the stool, eyes shut tight and jaw clenched, his face scrunched up like he was about to get hit. As soon as he thought he had spun 180 degrees, he slowly opened one eye, and then the other. Sat on the cold stone floor, a few feet away, was Molly. He hadn't seen her since he arrived at the Haven, but the face that looked up at him was burnt into his memory. Of all the girls he had seen around the Haven, shared a joke with, even winked at if he was in the mood, he had been looking for her. To catch a glimpse of her. He often wondered how he would start a conversation, now he had worked himself up to such an infatuation with her: all conversation starters he had in his mind seemed wrong, and being honest was completely out of the question. Hi, I don't know if you remember me, but i wrote a song about you and wondered if you wanted to hear it... Yep, she'd definitely think he was crazy...
She was looking up at him expectantly, but he sat in silence for a minute, carefully choosing his words. When he felt comfortable with what he was about to say, he shifted in his seat slightly and ran his fingers through his hair. Careful to avoid eye contact with the girl he had spent hours carefully composing the piece he had just played for, he began to speak. "Tah, it took a long time tae write, and I don' think I've really got et down jus' yet, bu' its a start..." He chuckled gently, beofre changing tack. "What are ye doin' up so late?" Even though he was now reconciled with her being witness to his talent, he wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it just yet. He looked up at Molly's face and studied it, now that he had stopped talking. As his eyes passed over her features, he noticed a couple of pale blotches, one on her cheek, and the other, paler one, over one of her eyes.
Without thinking, Mark almost leapt off the stool, his features set in an expression of concern, and landed next to Molly. "Who gave these tae ye?"he almost demanded.
Read more: x-menorigins.proboards.com/user/189/recent#ixzz2W7DxDfJF