Post by Jerrick on Mar 28, 2009 13:05:55 GMT -5
Your Character
Name:Jerrick Kayne
Gender:Male
Age:20
Species: Human
Appearance:Jerrick is slightly tall for a human, standing at 6’2’’. He has long, boyish blonde hair, despite his age. He has bright green eyes and dark skin, earned from many years of hard work in the outdoors. His body is lean from all the work he did as a fisherman and his sword training since joining the Varden.
Jerrick’s entire body is relatively unscarred. He does, however, have one obvious scar on his right forearm where he was cut fighting an Urgal. He very nearly lost the arm, and only kept it because a traveling magician healed him.
Personality: Jerrick is very fun loving and always willing to share a smile or a laugh with just about anyone. While, he won’t always go as far as to prank many people, his close friends have experienced first hand his attempts at innocent pranks.
Even though he is normally very lighthearted, he knows when a serious attitude is needed. He has deadly precision with his one-handed swords and an average skill with a bow and arrow. During a battle or an engagement, Jerrick is a no-nonsense type of person. He gets completely into a battle, and is hard to pull out of the bloodthirsty mindset.
While, he isn’t the most brilliant strategist of all time, by a long shot, Jerrick is an excellent foot soldier, one that nearly any commander would love to have serving under him.
History: Jerrick Kayne was born into a large family in a small fishing village near Teirm. He had three older brothers, two older sisters, two younger sisters, and one younger brother. His father was a renowned fisherman in the area, and his mother stayed at home to take care of the children. She was always a very kind woman, and would do anything for her children and husband.
His father was a man hardened by many years at sea, but was kind enough in his own way. They were never rich, but the large family never went hungry or without a meal.
Jerrick's life had always been relatively uneventful, but when he was 13 years old, his two older brothers were injured in a fishing accident he had to help with the family business. He became strong while working on his fathers boat for almost 3 years, until the two of them were fully healed. When they came back to work, Jerrick's father asked him to begin working for him full time.
Jerrick declined, telling his father that he wanted to travel to the Varden. He had heared a lot of rumors about them from travellers coming through Teirm and felt as if his rightful place was at the opposing side of Galbatorix. His father didn't exactly see things the same way. He told him not to go and to stay on and fish. Jerrick wasn't satisfied with that, so, after arguing with his father and brothers, left Teirm.
He caught on with a group of ex-soldiers in an inn close to the Hadarac desert. They were kind enough to loan him a horse until he could afford his own, and let him travel with them to the Varden. During the many month trip across the desert, they taught him basic fighting skills and found that he was a natural with a sword. They even had a fairly powerful magician in the group, who offered to teach Jerrick magic for self-defence purposes.
He caught on to that fairly quickly, but progressed only to the level of being able to lift small objects using magic. He hopes to become more proficient in the field, eventually.
After months of hard travel, the group finally reached the Varden in Farthen Dur. They were all welcomed with open arms, and Jerrick seemed to have found his new home. He has currently been with the Rebel group for nearly 3 years now, and is one of the most skilled swordsmen of his age.
After being around Eragon and Saphira for so long, he has still never spoken to either of them. He looks up to the pair, though, and wants nothing more than to be counted among them as Rider and Dragon.
Role Playing Example:
This sample is from a Star Wars RP:
The young Jedi felt very out of place in such a beautiful venue as the Theed Royal Palace. The grand spires and massive ceilings were enough to intimidate anyone who wasn't accustomed to being around them. The Palace was a far cry from the Jedi Temple on Ossus, where Callan was raised and the Redoubt on Shedu Maad, where the Jedi currently used as a fortress of solitude.
Naboo itself was an absolutely gorgeous planet. Callan remembered it well from his previous mission of aiding the Gungans and the Naboo with some diplomatic issues. As far as Callan knew, he was still an honorary Gungan warrior, since he bested their most powerful warrior in their Battle Circle. Hopefully, he wouldn't run into any of them that had lost money in the bets that had gone on...
Returning his thoughts to the present situation, Callan continued trying to find the gardens of the Palace. The man from Callan's file-his father- was waiting for him there. Or, that's where he was supposed to be. One of the Royal Aides had seen the man heading in that direction and given Callan directions.
It was very unusual for a Jedi, but Callan wanted desperately to meet this 'Wes Loran.' A year or so ago, Callan would have been the typical Jedi, wanting nothing to do with his family until he had been Knighted. Since his first Master, Gavin Tarre, had died, Callan had become more and more curious about his family. Gavin had been as close as Callan had ever known as a father and Master Norghar was filling that hole as well as he could. There was no substitution for the real thing, however.
As Callan rounded a corner, he a large opening in the wall that obviously led into the gardens. He'd made it. Before stepping out into the open, Callan checked himself over to make sure that he was presentable. He wore the black boots that he normally wore, along with cloth pants, colored a deep, midnight black. His undershirt was a dark, navy blue, and his tabard a shade of blue, just barely lighter. His light brown hair was laid down as best as Callan could manage, but it wasn't perfect. The Padawan's eyes finally settled on the silver handle of his lightsaber that was attached to his hip. He had considered leaving it with his formal robes, but wanted it with him...just in case something happened.
The Onderonian...no, not completely Onderonian...partly Corellian, as well, according to Master Marin, moved into the gardens. Takin short strides, allowing the soft grass to flow past his feet and ankles, Callan explored, looking for his father. The exotic flowers and beautiful streams calmed the Padawan, seemingly making his current position a little bit easier. Hopefully it did the same for Wes Loran. Master Marin had mentioned that, after having the news of his son sprung on him, Wes still didn't know what to think of young Lash.
As Callan nearned a small pond, complete with extraordinary waterfall, he noticed a wooden bench with a man's head extending over the top. An obviously military jacket was slung over the headrest, leading Callan to believe that he was staring at his father-Wes Loran- a "Bigshot in the Alliance" as Master Marin had described him.
The Padawan suddenly found himself unable to speak. He was unsure if it was due to nerves or fear, but he had to master the emotion, or risk seeming foolish to his father. He took a deep breath, and spread his legs to shoulder width. Callan clasped his hands behind the small of his back and stood as straight as he could, while still looking natural. When he spoke, he sounded much more confident than he felt.
"Excuse me...Sir?"
Name:Jerrick Kayne
Gender:Male
Age:20
Species: Human
Appearance:Jerrick is slightly tall for a human, standing at 6’2’’. He has long, boyish blonde hair, despite his age. He has bright green eyes and dark skin, earned from many years of hard work in the outdoors. His body is lean from all the work he did as a fisherman and his sword training since joining the Varden.
Jerrick’s entire body is relatively unscarred. He does, however, have one obvious scar on his right forearm where he was cut fighting an Urgal. He very nearly lost the arm, and only kept it because a traveling magician healed him.
Personality: Jerrick is very fun loving and always willing to share a smile or a laugh with just about anyone. While, he won’t always go as far as to prank many people, his close friends have experienced first hand his attempts at innocent pranks.
Even though he is normally very lighthearted, he knows when a serious attitude is needed. He has deadly precision with his one-handed swords and an average skill with a bow and arrow. During a battle or an engagement, Jerrick is a no-nonsense type of person. He gets completely into a battle, and is hard to pull out of the bloodthirsty mindset.
While, he isn’t the most brilliant strategist of all time, by a long shot, Jerrick is an excellent foot soldier, one that nearly any commander would love to have serving under him.
History: Jerrick Kayne was born into a large family in a small fishing village near Teirm. He had three older brothers, two older sisters, two younger sisters, and one younger brother. His father was a renowned fisherman in the area, and his mother stayed at home to take care of the children. She was always a very kind woman, and would do anything for her children and husband.
His father was a man hardened by many years at sea, but was kind enough in his own way. They were never rich, but the large family never went hungry or without a meal.
Jerrick's life had always been relatively uneventful, but when he was 13 years old, his two older brothers were injured in a fishing accident he had to help with the family business. He became strong while working on his fathers boat for almost 3 years, until the two of them were fully healed. When they came back to work, Jerrick's father asked him to begin working for him full time.
Jerrick declined, telling his father that he wanted to travel to the Varden. He had heared a lot of rumors about them from travellers coming through Teirm and felt as if his rightful place was at the opposing side of Galbatorix. His father didn't exactly see things the same way. He told him not to go and to stay on and fish. Jerrick wasn't satisfied with that, so, after arguing with his father and brothers, left Teirm.
He caught on with a group of ex-soldiers in an inn close to the Hadarac desert. They were kind enough to loan him a horse until he could afford his own, and let him travel with them to the Varden. During the many month trip across the desert, they taught him basic fighting skills and found that he was a natural with a sword. They even had a fairly powerful magician in the group, who offered to teach Jerrick magic for self-defence purposes.
He caught on to that fairly quickly, but progressed only to the level of being able to lift small objects using magic. He hopes to become more proficient in the field, eventually.
After months of hard travel, the group finally reached the Varden in Farthen Dur. They were all welcomed with open arms, and Jerrick seemed to have found his new home. He has currently been with the Rebel group for nearly 3 years now, and is one of the most skilled swordsmen of his age.
After being around Eragon and Saphira for so long, he has still never spoken to either of them. He looks up to the pair, though, and wants nothing more than to be counted among them as Rider and Dragon.
Role Playing Example:
This sample is from a Star Wars RP:
The young Jedi felt very out of place in such a beautiful venue as the Theed Royal Palace. The grand spires and massive ceilings were enough to intimidate anyone who wasn't accustomed to being around them. The Palace was a far cry from the Jedi Temple on Ossus, where Callan was raised and the Redoubt on Shedu Maad, where the Jedi currently used as a fortress of solitude.
Naboo itself was an absolutely gorgeous planet. Callan remembered it well from his previous mission of aiding the Gungans and the Naboo with some diplomatic issues. As far as Callan knew, he was still an honorary Gungan warrior, since he bested their most powerful warrior in their Battle Circle. Hopefully, he wouldn't run into any of them that had lost money in the bets that had gone on...
Returning his thoughts to the present situation, Callan continued trying to find the gardens of the Palace. The man from Callan's file-his father- was waiting for him there. Or, that's where he was supposed to be. One of the Royal Aides had seen the man heading in that direction and given Callan directions.
It was very unusual for a Jedi, but Callan wanted desperately to meet this 'Wes Loran.' A year or so ago, Callan would have been the typical Jedi, wanting nothing to do with his family until he had been Knighted. Since his first Master, Gavin Tarre, had died, Callan had become more and more curious about his family. Gavin had been as close as Callan had ever known as a father and Master Norghar was filling that hole as well as he could. There was no substitution for the real thing, however.
As Callan rounded a corner, he a large opening in the wall that obviously led into the gardens. He'd made it. Before stepping out into the open, Callan checked himself over to make sure that he was presentable. He wore the black boots that he normally wore, along with cloth pants, colored a deep, midnight black. His undershirt was a dark, navy blue, and his tabard a shade of blue, just barely lighter. His light brown hair was laid down as best as Callan could manage, but it wasn't perfect. The Padawan's eyes finally settled on the silver handle of his lightsaber that was attached to his hip. He had considered leaving it with his formal robes, but wanted it with him...just in case something happened.
The Onderonian...no, not completely Onderonian...partly Corellian, as well, according to Master Marin, moved into the gardens. Takin short strides, allowing the soft grass to flow past his feet and ankles, Callan explored, looking for his father. The exotic flowers and beautiful streams calmed the Padawan, seemingly making his current position a little bit easier. Hopefully it did the same for Wes Loran. Master Marin had mentioned that, after having the news of his son sprung on him, Wes still didn't know what to think of young Lash.
As Callan nearned a small pond, complete with extraordinary waterfall, he noticed a wooden bench with a man's head extending over the top. An obviously military jacket was slung over the headrest, leading Callan to believe that he was staring at his father-Wes Loran- a "Bigshot in the Alliance" as Master Marin had described him.
The Padawan suddenly found himself unable to speak. He was unsure if it was due to nerves or fear, but he had to master the emotion, or risk seeming foolish to his father. He took a deep breath, and spread his legs to shoulder width. Callan clasped his hands behind the small of his back and stood as straight as he could, while still looking natural. When he spoke, he sounded much more confident than he felt.
"Excuse me...Sir?"
