Almárean Daeronsson

[Almárean]

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name: almárean [all-marian] daeronsson [daren's son]
age: eighteen years
race: human

appearance:

hair: short brown-black
eyes: light blue
height: five foot four
build: small but strong
scars & old injuries: broke his left arm as a child and it didn't set straight; from a farming accident he has a large scar across the right side of his ribs but it doesn't affect his movements

personality:

o. peace-loving
x. kind-hearted
o. hard-working
x. intelligent
o. cowardly, but determined to overcome it
x. empathetic
o. stubborn
x. determined
o. shy around women
x. deathly afraid of cats & insects
o. loves to drink, but hates to be drunk

history:

Almárean was born the seventh and youngest son of Ilmara and Daeron of Belatona. Nothing about his life is very outstanding, except for the fact that his mother taught all of her children to read, write and speak the ancient language fluently, as she was a Spellweaver in her youth. Always a faithful son, Almárean worked the land with his brothers until their fields were destroyed in the Battle of the Burning Plains. Retreating Empire soldiers, feeling shamed by their loss, set fire to every homestead they happened upon; this included Almárean's home. Swearing revenge on the Empire, he swore to himself that he wouldn't let Galbatorix live-on as King. His brothers thought he was crazy, so he pretended that he would stay on the homestead and help them rebuild. In reality, he was gradually stashing away supplies to run-away and join with the Varden. Weeks before his eighteenth birthday Almárean left home on his family's plow horse with nothing but a small sack of food, a skin of water, a hunting bow and a sharpened dagger. Now, having arrived at the Varden's encampment, he's joined-up as a novice swordsman.

roleplaying example:

this post is from a site called The Path To Take, which is a wild horse roleplay. if anyone here doesn't understand the descriptive language used, it's either because you don't know anything about horses or because equine roleplayers barely speak normal english when they type. i promise, my human roleplaying is much easier to understand! xD

The sun burned high in the sky; rays baked the terrain in preparing for summer, the hottest season of them all. Many gathered here in these months; to pray, tend the graves, and, for at-least one, to escape the heat. Salt-water stream dragging its way listlessly through the caverns in an almost sloth-like manner, eating away slowly at the banks. This tiny river had actually formed these caves over the thousands of years long-past. Over those countless years, massive amounts of sedimentary soil had been deposited here by the once-raging river that was now nothing more than a salty stream. The soil was what really made this place so important; it was a burial ground, and the only one in Zyos.

Atop the unmarked grave of a beautiful grey mare, the petite flicka lay. Every bone in her tiny bodice could be seen beneath her stunningly coloured pelt, pushing out against her thin skin. It had been days since she had last eaten; since she'd arrived here from worlds beyond. Over the past hours, her breath had been slowing, and she found herself getting weaker & weaker; no amount of healing could keep starvation at bay. Her side rose quickly, in a short gasping breath, a desperate attempt at life. She was running on nothing, and her life wouldn't last much longer at this rate, even as a Camoraan.

The soil on which she lay did not give up any plants; the salted river which flowed through these caves seemed to have deposited too much of the ocean's bountiful salts here to give life to the lands. What type of plant would want to grow in such an abysmal place, she couldn't even imagine; there was barely any light here, and the air stank of rotten flesh & salty tears. But, though it was infertile, the soil on which she lay was actually surprisingly comfortable; the ground turned & clear of pebbles & insects. The flies were much to busy feeding on the half-rotten flesh left exposed in many of the uncovered graves nearby, stripping the meat from each bone.

Sunken ice-blue optics rolling 'bout in their sockets to observe the cavern around herself, tiny painted ess took in every minuscule detail. The ankle-deep muck surrounding the graves showed many hoof-prints; mostly from full-growns, but also from young ones, such as herself. Four of them, maybe? She wondered what their lives must be like; parents to protect them, elders to teach them, adolescents to antagonise. It was the perfect life, but it wasn't hers. Oh, how she wished that one of those such frequent visitors would come here, and either assist her, or put her out of her misery. Her thoughts ceased for a moment as yet another mighty gasping breath was taken; attempts to raise and lower her sides becoming ever more difficult to accomplish. But at-least she was still breathing.

And then the flies took a liking to her. Apparently, they had grown weary of eating nothing but dead meat, and were now craving something a bit more fresh. They swarmed to her, tiny feet grabbing at her fur, and burrowing their tiny mouths into her skin. But, as quickly as they bit, she healed. Her optics and nostrils seemed to be especially popular, for a massive number of them migrated here when they finally came to the conclusion that continually biting at her flesh wasn't going to earn them an easy meal. They walk upon her ice-hued orbs, and all she could do was slowly close her eyes in an attempt to ignore them. Giving a light snort, for it was all she could really muster, she took another gasp; but this one was weaker than the others. She was alone, and fading fast.

how did you find us? google

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[Angmor]

Accepted! Welcome to the site, Almarean!