Post by Wild Dog on Aug 17, 2010 15:43:54 GMT -5
Name: Many of my employers called me Nighthawk. Others simply by The Hawk. My real name, though, is Araris.
Age: 25
Race: Human
Appearance: People once remarked that I was tall for my age. Other kids always looked up to me. Now, they believe me blessed with a very ordinary height, so not to bump my head of the rafters. My hair is black as coal, except for a thin streak of white hair that is discolored. My parents, when they were alive, had no idea how this happened. My face isn't worth a second look, which is useful in many situations. At times, I can be invisible to the eye, when they skip over me. Average nose, eye color, and mouth can not be described as interesting. As for my rest of my body, one word can sum it up, uninspiring. My arms are toughened from a childhood spent in the blacksmith. Some would call me muscular, but don’t consider me a strong man. My legs are fit for running, which is useful in a tight spot.
I don’t have a particular attachment to what clothes I wear. Anything that fits and does not attract attention is good enough for me. Even though I have worked with swords all my life, I prefer the spear over any other weapon. There lies my greatest advantage over common soldiers, who are trained to fight enemies with swords, but have no training against any other weapon. I've spent long years training in combat. Currently, I am out of work, but have worked for a number of years as a mercenary, assassin, and guard. With me and my spear, I have face numerous foes and survived with minor injuries. Aside from my spear. However, I can neither boast nor downplay my skill, I just get the job done.
Now that I have joined the dark brotherhood, usually wear white robes, with red and black. Becasue of my profession, I needed more weapons, the spear was fine and all, but it atractes attention. I store it in a bag, cut into three parts. If I know I am going to need it, I will pull it out. I have a blade tucked up both sleeves. With a press of a button, I can extend the blade out. Nothing pretty, but it works. I am also well versed in throwing knives.
Even though I am a assassin now, I still long to be free. Now, Brand has offered to make me a pirate, I don;t know who I will follow.
Personality: Even though I live in the Empire, I have no love the the people. Most of them hate the Empire but don't have the guts to openly declare it. The others love the Empire and will do any thing to gain power. Of the Varden, I am sympathetic of their efforts. However, they run and hide when they should stand and fight. Of the elves, I know little about them. Even though they are rumored to be on the Vardens side, there is so little evidence supporting that I can not say for sure which side they are on. Of the dwarfs, I believe they are a myth. Of the dragon riders, I hold them in contempt. they are the whole reason that the land is in this mess. Of other magical creatures, I don't know. They may exist, but I do not quarrel with them. O, to have an enemy of flesh and blood.
Even though I am biased in my mind, nothing will stand in my way of getting a job done. If the Empire pays enough money, I will knock down the gate of Hell for them. there lies my passion, not in gold or the thrill of killing, but in glory. If I were to knock down the gates of Hell, what a story that would make. People will sing my name for generations to come. However, I must draw some lines. I am not a mass-murder. Thievery is the one thing I cannot stand.
Right now, I have done enough offenses against the varden I am wanted there. Only for the public though. I still do work there.
Now, Altair and Brand both offered me jobs, but which one will i take. No idea
History: My life began when my parents ended. As far back as I can remember, they were always missing. They died when I was very young. Every since then, I was brought up by a blacksmith living in Teirm. When I was twelve years old, the blacksmith took made me his apprentice. for eight years I worked under him, toiling away while he drank himself to death. I had no regret slitting his throat while he slept. However, there was one thing that old geezer did to me that I thank him for. He taught me how to use a spear. Since then, I have become addicted to the weapon. I train every day.
Since the old blacksmith's death, I took over the shop. Unfortunately, the townsfolk connected me to the crime and had me run out. Every since, I have drifted in and out of towns, seeking work. Usually, people hire me to kill another. No sweat, that is a job I can do. Once, I was hired to kill a top ranking official, whose name I didn't even know. Now, I am out of work.
Role Playing example:
He sat down to his dinner, ignoring everything around him. It has been days since he had last eaten. Five days on the road took its toil of Araris. His coat was worn and soaking wet form the afternoon rain. bits of plant floated down out of his hair as he shook it to clear his mind. His boots were coated with a thin layer of mud, picked up on the way to the inn. His eyes conveyed a heaviness, like he was ready to collapse at any second. His spear, carelessly leaned against the table, was the only thing in his possession that was clean, for he spent long hours sharpening and cleaning his weapon. The spear drew some odd looks, for its oddness in shape and rich ornaments contrasted greatly with the man that held it.
The room was smokey and was general empty, except for the bartender and a maid. as it was not yet dinner time, this was to be expected. However, the man never relaxed. Too long had he been trailed. Sooner or later some hothead would challenge him to a duel. Youth with too much money and too little sense try to kill him to show off to his friends. Ah, too be young again. All ended with one result and Araris walked away unscathed.
After eating his meal, Araris walked to his room. Four doors down, Araris turned and entered. To his right was a four poster bed, ready to be used. To his left a writing desk and wash bin. the entire room looked clean, except for a pair of muddy foot prints leading into the closet. Araris tightened his grip on his spear. "I am not alone," he thought. suddenly, dashing out of the closet came a man. He was medium height, sandy hair, and was carrying a long sword. Without thinking, Araris spun around, knocking the weapon out of the assassins hand with the but of the spear and ran him through. Outrage turned to shock on the man face and he fell, dead. After examining the body, he discovered that the man worked for his ex-employer. The hit man must have been after him because his boss wanted him dead. "If that was the case," Araris thought, "then I need to leave now." Grimly, Araris turned and walked the door.
"I am not staying here," he told the innkeeper and proceed to pay for his dinner. After leaving the inn, Araris once turned to the road. The next town, hopefully, he could find a warm bed and a job.
Angmor and friend suggested this to me
Age: 25
Race: Human
Appearance: People once remarked that I was tall for my age. Other kids always looked up to me. Now, they believe me blessed with a very ordinary height, so not to bump my head of the rafters. My hair is black as coal, except for a thin streak of white hair that is discolored. My parents, when they were alive, had no idea how this happened. My face isn't worth a second look, which is useful in many situations. At times, I can be invisible to the eye, when they skip over me. Average nose, eye color, and mouth can not be described as interesting. As for my rest of my body, one word can sum it up, uninspiring. My arms are toughened from a childhood spent in the blacksmith. Some would call me muscular, but don’t consider me a strong man. My legs are fit for running, which is useful in a tight spot.
I don’t have a particular attachment to what clothes I wear. Anything that fits and does not attract attention is good enough for me. Even though I have worked with swords all my life, I prefer the spear over any other weapon. There lies my greatest advantage over common soldiers, who are trained to fight enemies with swords, but have no training against any other weapon. I've spent long years training in combat. Currently, I am out of work, but have worked for a number of years as a mercenary, assassin, and guard. With me and my spear, I have face numerous foes and survived with minor injuries. Aside from my spear. However, I can neither boast nor downplay my skill, I just get the job done.
Now that I have joined the dark brotherhood, usually wear white robes, with red and black. Becasue of my profession, I needed more weapons, the spear was fine and all, but it atractes attention. I store it in a bag, cut into three parts. If I know I am going to need it, I will pull it out. I have a blade tucked up both sleeves. With a press of a button, I can extend the blade out. Nothing pretty, but it works. I am also well versed in throwing knives.
Even though I am a assassin now, I still long to be free. Now, Brand has offered to make me a pirate, I don;t know who I will follow.
Personality: Even though I live in the Empire, I have no love the the people. Most of them hate the Empire but don't have the guts to openly declare it. The others love the Empire and will do any thing to gain power. Of the Varden, I am sympathetic of their efforts. However, they run and hide when they should stand and fight. Of the elves, I know little about them. Even though they are rumored to be on the Vardens side, there is so little evidence supporting that I can not say for sure which side they are on. Of the dwarfs, I believe they are a myth. Of the dragon riders, I hold them in contempt. they are the whole reason that the land is in this mess. Of other magical creatures, I don't know. They may exist, but I do not quarrel with them. O, to have an enemy of flesh and blood.
Even though I am biased in my mind, nothing will stand in my way of getting a job done. If the Empire pays enough money, I will knock down the gate of Hell for them. there lies my passion, not in gold or the thrill of killing, but in glory. If I were to knock down the gates of Hell, what a story that would make. People will sing my name for generations to come. However, I must draw some lines. I am not a mass-murder. Thievery is the one thing I cannot stand.
Right now, I have done enough offenses against the varden I am wanted there. Only for the public though. I still do work there.
Now, Altair and Brand both offered me jobs, but which one will i take. No idea
History: My life began when my parents ended. As far back as I can remember, they were always missing. They died when I was very young. Every since then, I was brought up by a blacksmith living in Teirm. When I was twelve years old, the blacksmith took made me his apprentice. for eight years I worked under him, toiling away while he drank himself to death. I had no regret slitting his throat while he slept. However, there was one thing that old geezer did to me that I thank him for. He taught me how to use a spear. Since then, I have become addicted to the weapon. I train every day.
Since the old blacksmith's death, I took over the shop. Unfortunately, the townsfolk connected me to the crime and had me run out. Every since, I have drifted in and out of towns, seeking work. Usually, people hire me to kill another. No sweat, that is a job I can do. Once, I was hired to kill a top ranking official, whose name I didn't even know. Now, I am out of work.
Role Playing example:
He sat down to his dinner, ignoring everything around him. It has been days since he had last eaten. Five days on the road took its toil of Araris. His coat was worn and soaking wet form the afternoon rain. bits of plant floated down out of his hair as he shook it to clear his mind. His boots were coated with a thin layer of mud, picked up on the way to the inn. His eyes conveyed a heaviness, like he was ready to collapse at any second. His spear, carelessly leaned against the table, was the only thing in his possession that was clean, for he spent long hours sharpening and cleaning his weapon. The spear drew some odd looks, for its oddness in shape and rich ornaments contrasted greatly with the man that held it.
The room was smokey and was general empty, except for the bartender and a maid. as it was not yet dinner time, this was to be expected. However, the man never relaxed. Too long had he been trailed. Sooner or later some hothead would challenge him to a duel. Youth with too much money and too little sense try to kill him to show off to his friends. Ah, too be young again. All ended with one result and Araris walked away unscathed.
After eating his meal, Araris walked to his room. Four doors down, Araris turned and entered. To his right was a four poster bed, ready to be used. To his left a writing desk and wash bin. the entire room looked clean, except for a pair of muddy foot prints leading into the closet. Araris tightened his grip on his spear. "I am not alone," he thought. suddenly, dashing out of the closet came a man. He was medium height, sandy hair, and was carrying a long sword. Without thinking, Araris spun around, knocking the weapon out of the assassins hand with the but of the spear and ran him through. Outrage turned to shock on the man face and he fell, dead. After examining the body, he discovered that the man worked for his ex-employer. The hit man must have been after him because his boss wanted him dead. "If that was the case," Araris thought, "then I need to leave now." Grimly, Araris turned and walked the door.
"I am not staying here," he told the innkeeper and proceed to pay for his dinner. After leaving the inn, Araris once turned to the road. The next town, hopefully, he could find a warm bed and a job.
Angmor and friend suggested this to me
