Post by ~Ninthroe~ on Jul 6, 2013 17:46:51 GMT -5
Name: Lorren Mountainhammer
Age: 367 years
Race: Dwarf
Allegiance: Dwarven King
Physical Description: About 52" tall, Lorren stands out as different from the typical dwarves that humans and other races would stereotype the race as. For starters, Lorren doesn't have a beard. Though it is seen as traditional and a show of deserved respect to have one, there are some dwarves that say respect is earned in other ways. And as a strategical move, it also throws off some foes or strangers. Lorren isn't massive in build, as he is more of a nimble and strategical fighter than a brute.
His hair is a medium-length very dirty blond, and he is never seen without some form of grime as a show of the hard work he puts himself through on a daily basis. He is never seen without his light armor of hardened leather with steel plates on, or his sword and shield strapped to his back.
Personality: Lorren, as the gif (hopefully) states above, has a soft spot for those that stand out in a negative way towards his society. He chooses the lowest of the low to become his best, and in this way he differs from the meods his family would have done. He is quick to anger, a trait common to most if not all dwarves, but his anger is only sparked by key phrases. He is a logical thinker in battle and all situations, wanting to scrutinize the scenario instead of bull rush it.
He is a very prideful person, and not afraid to pull his sword and meet a particularly stubborn fool, but he'd rather make you look the fool by words rather than waste his time with the actions unless it's absolutely necessary. He is a brutal trainer for those under his command, but he requires his men to earn his respect in the same manner he earned his own. He will push them to their limits, and then a little farther to make them stronger.
History: Lorren's history was particularly painful to bear, and for this reason he refuses to share it, though it is a well-known story in the mountain's halls. He was the youngest of four sons to a prestigious dwarven general in their realm. But he was never given the attention the others, particularly the oldest, were given. He remained a quiet person, always watching and never speaking unless spoken to. And he retains that same demeanor to this day. He spent his time reading rather than training with weapons, and learning of potions. He was eager to learn magic, but that was an ambition he held closely. He shared it with no one, and no one cared.
But one fateful moment turned all his dreams to dust. His brothers, all in a mission into a cavern, died in a trap that brought the cavern down on them all. His father, enraged and in remorse over his sons, took it out on Lorren. He made Lorren take up fighting, and pushed him beyond what would even be named cruel in a way to even the most gruesome dwarves in an attempt to bring all three of his soms back through Lorren. He was humiliated publicly for messing up in the slightest, and beared the worst of it from his father, though the others in training joined in on the fun when they could. But this all turned into a motivation for him, and he hardened his spirit against the abuse and grew stronger for it. He rose slowly in the ranks despite the attempts to demoralize him, and after a century and a half became a General for the Dwarven King, but only twenty years after his father died, cursing Lorren's name on his deathbed. He swore an oath that he would become the General his father was, but not the dwarf that he was. And now he actively is pursuing to mske an expedition into the outside world, and forge ties with other races.
Roleplay sample: (taken from a greek mythology site)
Andrew came dressed in his normal attire, which consisted of jeans and and a slightly tight T-shirt so that his own clothing never got in his way in combat, which would be starting soon enough he hoped against other demigods and not just fighting these dummies. He was never one for a physical education class, but it was mandatory here for students of all ages with rare exceptions so he decided he would at least try to have fun with it.
He made his way to the weapons barrels. He had not had a specific weapon of choice. In the regular classes, studying the variety of weapons was always one of his favorites, and he simply didn't know where to start. He liked the bow a lot, but he was no son of Apollo and those that were his children seemed to have God-given talent with it, which was probably the case here. He also liked the spear, the weapon that his mother Athena was seen most often with in the pictures painted by the original Greeks. But he was never one to hold it for too long.
He reached in the barrel and pulled out a sword. He was left-handed though, and had to keep searching through the barrel until he found one of the three left-handed swords crafted. He sighed with mild annoyance. Being one of the older students at Omega Academy, maybe he could talk to someone about getting a little more organization. Or he could just do it himself. That's what he has always done anyway.
He walked over to a makeshift rack and pulled off of it the one thing he was more comfortable with than anything else on the whole Island: the shield. Well, next to his strategy books that is. He twirled it in his hand, testing the weight and curve of it. Just right, the one thing he could find no complaints about even if he tried. He was probably going to take this one back to his dorm tonight and decorate it, to make it a true weapon of Athena's. so far none of his half-siblings had made any motion to truly represent who they are, and if the rumors are true and competition was going to get started soon he needed to be a little bit more open than he already was about his heritage, not that there was a single person on the island who didn't know by now..
Andrew was always open about life at the Academy. He was one of the first to welcome any new students and show them around the basics and then lead them to their respectful family. A lot of the younger kids of Athena looked up to him for that, and for being able to stand up to anyone who wanted to throw their weight around campus. He trained so hard just so that he would be able to school some of those kids himself if they were too hot-headed to take a hint and leave someone alone. He despised bullies.
He turned to the closest training dummy with as fast as he could and thrust his sword out , his shield tucked in close. He just knicked the arm, which was the general area that he was aiming for. Straightening up and nodding to himself with satisfaction, he looked around. It was break time in the late morning, so not too many kids were there. But there were a few talking amongst themselves across the Arena. Sometimes despite all of the social activity he threw himself into, he still felt like a loner. But that was fine by him. He's always been that way.
He crouched back into his phalanx formation, practicing the movement itself as he advanced on an imaginary target, lunging when needed and finally turning to cut the edge of his shield across a dummy's wooden shield and crack it. Using his shield as an actual weapon was a tactic that Spartans used often and was arguably their most effective weapon, but not too many of the others paid attention in that class or read as avidly as he did, so he was the only one that he knew of that implemented that strategy. Which was great. One more trick ip his sleeve an enemy would never see coming. But one question stayed in his mind: when and what would they ever actually attack?
Meh, he thought. The training was probably just to have a theme for physical education besides using the same thing they did on Mondays, which was sort of like what one would see on a tv show about military boot camp. They may not have to fight at all. But rumors had it that some of the gods were getting restless with themselves.. Not that they were too open about it at the moment. Rumors were rumors, but they were always based on a tiny grain of truth..
He sighed loudly to expel these thoughts. He was here to train, not to try and be philosophical about the affairs and workings of the Academy. He forced his attention back to the dummies and stood there a moment before deciding it was time to go back to the bow. He would never be a full-fledged archer, but it was wise to be familiar with it should he ever be assigned a ranged duty. He tossed his sword into the barrel and set his shield down across the rack of bows, picking out a longbow and four arrows. He set the four arrows down in front of him, tips in the dirt at a fifteen-yard marker from a row of targets.
He pulled his first arrow out and drew back, holding the correct form as good as he could muster before exhaling forcibly, releasing the arrow and watching it glide across the air and just barely catch the outer edge of the target. He grunted to himself in dissatisfaction. One day, he would get good or at least decent with the blasted bow. Maybe he could ask a child of Hephaestus for a specialized bow. He had enough credits to turn in for a favor.
He liked the system of credits that the Academy used as a kind of currency, seeing that these other kids came all over the world their national currency could hardly do any good here. He obtained his own revenue of credits from the money sent in by his parents for 'college' that were converted, which would be plenty enough but he liked to work for his own things, so he always used that stash on his card to help the poorer kids out and using the credits he earned by working as a mentor for pretty much all subjects available here for his own personal luxuries, like a special mechanical shield he had been working on a design for that he would kill to actually get.
He came back to the set of weapons and such to get what he had stupidly forgotten, lost in his own thoughts: protection. Even though he really wasn't in need of them as he wasn't facing any real enemies, it was always good to get comfortabke with the equipment, so that when he actually did need them he would feel at ease and not like he was just carrying clunky obstacles. He strapped on the leather chestplate and vambraces for archery, not bothering with the helmet. He hardly wore one. Which would be his secret sign of cockiness. He wanted people to see who he was when his moment finally came to shine in battle. He laughed to himself. He was deciding to sound like a child of Ares.
Andrew looked around again, which was beginning to become a random habit. It was getting towards the beginning of lunch, so maybe he would see someone he recognized or a new face soon enough, or at least he hoped. More likely rhan not it was the other way around. Not everyone liked to skip lunch as he did more often than he should to get in that extra two hours of training. He picked up his second arrow and notched it against the bowstring. Today felt like it was going to be a hard day.
