Post by Samira on Jan 21, 2010 23:43:32 GMT -5
Name: Merak.
Age: 17.
Gender: Male.
Race/Species: BlackElf.
Guild: DarkRowan.
Status: apprentice warmonger - sword.
Kin: Father - Barachel - sword. (Mother deceased).
Appearance: Tall, like all Elves, Merak already has broad shoulders and a solidly muscled body. He has not yet reached his full height; long hands and feet suggest that he will continue to grow still. His form is lithe and graceful, like all of his kindred, and his skin is smooth and pale, like ivory or carved bone. His hair is black, streaked here and there with cromson, and he wears it long, in small plaits and dredlocks, ornamented with carved fragments of bone. His eyebrows cut straight black slashes across a smooth forehead and beneath them his slightly slanted eyes are dark - very dark; but if you look closely, you can see that their true colour is blue, which testifies to the tiny drop of human blood in his veins: most likely some woman, toyed with as a cat baits a mouse, before Merak's BlackElf ancestor killed her. The pupils of Merak's eyes glow scarlet, and they do glow - burning, almost, like tiny embers set in the dark orbs. His nose is straight and slim except for the slightest of faults, the place where he once broke it. His high, sharp cheekbones give his still quite youthful face a sort of gaunt, hungry look which is only increased by the unnatural red shine of his dark eyes. His lips are thin, but not pale, and are usually curved into either a contemptuous sneer or a sardonic, rather sadistic half-smile. A strongly-defined jawline gives him a determined look and somehow accents his arrogant mien. He is attractive, in a cruel, mocking sort of way; rather magnetic sometimes.
Belongings: The young BlackElf carries his sword with him always and also likes to have several daggers and knives of various lengths concealed about his person. Like most intelligent folk in the dangerous world of Shard, he keeps a small supply of healing herbs with him in case of emergency. He likes to wear black leggings and a belt of woven black leather with carved-bone and silver ornaments hanging off it; but he wears no shirt or tunic, preferring to run bare-chested. He also runs bare-footed, unless in battle, when he wears the appropriate steel-protected boots. He has a silver arm-band on his upper left arm, carved with curious archaic runes that few could recognize or decipher.
Personality: Cynical, cruel, arrogant, sarcastic - Merak is the embodiment of all of these things. But he is also insecure, lonely, and hurt. Deep anger fills him, mingles with his pride, spills out of his eyes and words. Merak desperately craves approbation, respect, and attention. He always wants to be recognized as the best and will kill - literally, of course - to be there. Fortunately, this is considered a strength in DarkRowan Guild and is encouraged; otherwise somebody would probably lhave gotten fed up and murdered him by now. He is very vengeful and enjoys plotting and carrying out cruel, often gory revenge schemes against those unlucky enough to anger, hurt, or irritate him. He is not, to be precise, really bloodthirsty. He simply enjoys inflicting pain and watching his victims eyes as they see who is hurting them. He loves to have someone see him, just as they die - loves the look in their eyes as their last thought is the realization that it was he who killed them. His feelings toward his father are quite complicated. He hates him passionately, but also desperately desires his approval and recognition. This often causes his actions, words, and feelings to all be rather at odds with each other.
History: Merak's mother was perhaps the only person he has ever truly loved; raised by a cruel father and destined from birth to follow his footsteps as a sword for the guild, his intentions have always been to be the best warmonger DarkRowan Guild has ever seen and to live up to his father's legacy. His hatred for his father may have its roots in Barachel's ruthlessness and harshness in Merak's very young childhood; it was solidified by that cruelty being directed at his mother, and firmly cemented into place on the day he watched his father methodically, sadistically, murder the only woman - the only person, really - who had ever loved Merak. From that day onward he set his entire soul to the task of becoming the best, and, one day, avenging himself on his father for the cruel killing he saw as a young boy.
Other: ...eh, not much.
Age: 17.
Gender: Male.
Race/Species: BlackElf.
Guild: DarkRowan.
Status: apprentice warmonger - sword.
Kin: Father - Barachel - sword. (Mother deceased).
Appearance: Tall, like all Elves, Merak already has broad shoulders and a solidly muscled body. He has not yet reached his full height; long hands and feet suggest that he will continue to grow still. His form is lithe and graceful, like all of his kindred, and his skin is smooth and pale, like ivory or carved bone. His hair is black, streaked here and there with cromson, and he wears it long, in small plaits and dredlocks, ornamented with carved fragments of bone. His eyebrows cut straight black slashes across a smooth forehead and beneath them his slightly slanted eyes are dark - very dark; but if you look closely, you can see that their true colour is blue, which testifies to the tiny drop of human blood in his veins: most likely some woman, toyed with as a cat baits a mouse, before Merak's BlackElf ancestor killed her. The pupils of Merak's eyes glow scarlet, and they do glow - burning, almost, like tiny embers set in the dark orbs. His nose is straight and slim except for the slightest of faults, the place where he once broke it. His high, sharp cheekbones give his still quite youthful face a sort of gaunt, hungry look which is only increased by the unnatural red shine of his dark eyes. His lips are thin, but not pale, and are usually curved into either a contemptuous sneer or a sardonic, rather sadistic half-smile. A strongly-defined jawline gives him a determined look and somehow accents his arrogant mien. He is attractive, in a cruel, mocking sort of way; rather magnetic sometimes.
Belongings: The young BlackElf carries his sword with him always and also likes to have several daggers and knives of various lengths concealed about his person. Like most intelligent folk in the dangerous world of Shard, he keeps a small supply of healing herbs with him in case of emergency. He likes to wear black leggings and a belt of woven black leather with carved-bone and silver ornaments hanging off it; but he wears no shirt or tunic, preferring to run bare-chested. He also runs bare-footed, unless in battle, when he wears the appropriate steel-protected boots. He has a silver arm-band on his upper left arm, carved with curious archaic runes that few could recognize or decipher.
Personality: Cynical, cruel, arrogant, sarcastic - Merak is the embodiment of all of these things. But he is also insecure, lonely, and hurt. Deep anger fills him, mingles with his pride, spills out of his eyes and words. Merak desperately craves approbation, respect, and attention. He always wants to be recognized as the best and will kill - literally, of course - to be there. Fortunately, this is considered a strength in DarkRowan Guild and is encouraged; otherwise somebody would probably lhave gotten fed up and murdered him by now. He is very vengeful and enjoys plotting and carrying out cruel, often gory revenge schemes against those unlucky enough to anger, hurt, or irritate him. He is not, to be precise, really bloodthirsty. He simply enjoys inflicting pain and watching his victims eyes as they see who is hurting them. He loves to have someone see him, just as they die - loves the look in their eyes as their last thought is the realization that it was he who killed them. His feelings toward his father are quite complicated. He hates him passionately, but also desperately desires his approval and recognition. This often causes his actions, words, and feelings to all be rather at odds with each other.
History: Merak's mother was perhaps the only person he has ever truly loved; raised by a cruel father and destined from birth to follow his footsteps as a sword for the guild, his intentions have always been to be the best warmonger DarkRowan Guild has ever seen and to live up to his father's legacy. His hatred for his father may have its roots in Barachel's ruthlessness and harshness in Merak's very young childhood; it was solidified by that cruelty being directed at his mother, and firmly cemented into place on the day he watched his father methodically, sadistically, murder the only woman - the only person, really - who had ever loved Merak. From that day onward he set his entire soul to the task of becoming the best, and, one day, avenging himself on his father for the cruel killing he saw as a young boy.
Other: ...eh, not much.
