Post by TC on Jan 10, 2007 15:02:33 GMT
ABOUT YOU
[/b][/center]Your Name/Alias: --- T.C.
Age: --- 20
Time Zone: --- -5 Eastern
How much your online: --- Many hours each day
Contact: --- AIM: XxTopXCatXx
How long have you been roleplaying? --- Six years
Your Character
GENERAL
Name: --- Kurron Olhem
Age: --- 27
Race: --- Barbarian Human
Duties: --- N/Q
Class: --- Warrior
LOOKS
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[/img][/center]Eyes Colour: --- Greenish-blue
Hair Colour: --- Dirty Blond
Skin Tone: --- White, nicely tanned
Height/Weight: --- 5'11"/172 pounds
Overall: ---
His muscular body is dotted with scars from past battles. The most noticeable of these runs from his forehead and down through his left eye, which is glazed over and can no longer see. Upon his right arm he bears a tattoo of a full moon with the silhouette of a howling wolf within it (the symbol of his Tribe). A second tattoo can be found on the left side of his chest, in the forgotten language of his ancestors it reads 'Det Entre av Volheimd Avvente Meg', when translated it means 'The Halls of Volheimd Await Me' (Volheimd is where brave warriors ascend to after death).
Usually seem wearing a tan wolf skin tunic with the sleeves cut off, dark brown wolf skin pants and brown leather boots. All his cloths are noticeable worn and have holes in the material. When preparing for battle he dons a different outfit. A grey tunic under a brown leather chest plate with his Tribes symbol painted upon it (neither have sleeves), black leather pants, brown leather boots and leather straps form an 'X' across his chest while a holster for his axe is on his back.
PERSONALITY
[/b][/center]Likes:
- Fighting
- Drinking
- Wolves
Dislikes:
- Cowardice
- Theives
- Dishonest people
Hobbies:
- The study of his ancestors
- Staring at the night sky
Fears: --- To return home to find his Tribe destroyed. The anger of the Gods.
Overall Personality ---
Not a very socialable guy, it is hard to get close to him. Tends to be serious most of the time and has a wicked temper. Although he loves to fight he is not normally a violent person. He is at his calmest on clear nights as he could spend hours staring up at the stars.
HISTORY
[/u][/center]Birthplace: --- The Mongeul Plains within the Ulv Emballere Tribe
Birth Time: --- Dusk, exact time unknown
Parents: --- Enoc and Aristelle Olhem
Siblings: --- None
Overall History: ---
Kurron was an only child growing up in a small tribal villige. In his early childhood he was very curious, often wondering off to explore something new and exciting. Sometimes he would return home with any number of cuts and scrapes which always resulted in his mother fussing over him then scolding him. It was rare for him to play with other children of the tribe because he found them boring and wanted to explore.
As is the custom of his people, on his twelve birthday his childhood had ended as his father started training him to become a warrior of the tribe. Kurron did not enjoy it back then, now he appreciates those times spent with his father. His disinterest in it at the time made him a slow learner but began to develop a talent for fighting by his seventeenth birthday.
In the Mongul Plains there was always a war or two between the dozens of tribes and Kurron saw his first one while only sixteen years old. That first day would forever haunt his dreams. In the heat of battle the young warrior was separated from his father and met with an enemy warrior's dagger. The blade had cut into the flesh of his forehead and proceded down through the boy's left eye. As he clutched his eye with both hands his father had appeared to save him.
The battle won, the warriors returned to their homes. The silence of the return journey would be the last peaceful moments he would know for several weeks. As his mother saw the bloody cut on her son she panicked. Making him sit sit as she tried every treatment she could think of, but in spite of it all Kurron had lost sight in his left eye and its color had faded and glazed over.
Twenty years of his life now behind him, Kurron had become one of the best warriors in all the surrounding tribes. Not even two years later he was brought before the Chief and given the honor of commanding the tribal warriors, the youngest in Barbarian history. Since then he has led his tribe to countless victories throughout the plains.
As more years passed and he was then twenty-six, a strange presence presented itself to him. Confused at what it was he spent several nights on trying to find out. The answer always seemed to slip from his grasp, this presence didn't appear to be much more than a feeling so he ignored it for the time being.
Nearly a month later and the presence is stronger than ever and even stranger, yet good, things began happening to him. One evening while hunting he noticed a small rabbit one hundred and fifty feet away, it wasn't until the creature was caught that Kurron realized how far the rabbit was and how clearly he could see it. Somehow he had acquired much keener sight in his good eye. Next his strength had begun to increase. Before long the amazed Kurron was stronger then any other Barbarian warrior. Finally the axe he carried to battle suddenly began producing powerful electrical currents in the blade and sent those currents into the enemy upon contact. After being stolen a few times it was determined that the axe was powerless unless in Kurron's possession and it would always find its way back to its rightful owner when taken.
Now twenty-seven, Kurron had grown restless in the past years. Approaching the Chief he gives up command of the warriors. Then gathering his possessions, he bid farewell to his father and mother. He set out to see the world and perhaps even create a name for himself along the way.
EXTRA
[/b][/center]Extra: --- His weapon of choice is a large, double-sided battle axe, also carries a long hunting knife. Though it is unknown why, in more recent years he had acquired unnatural streangth, his good eye is like a hawks and also his battle axe can produce powerful electrical currents in the blades. The latter of which can only be used when in his possession.
Roleplay Sample: ---
How long have I been in this wretched place? He thought to himself. It seemed like days since he had last seen a patch of green grass to lie upon, but he knew it had actually been just over an hour. As smells of those who passed away reached his nostrils, Darthen would feel a shiver go down his spine. Thanks to his Elvin heritage, he was able to make his way over the bone covered ground more quietly than most. Each step was far from quiet as the crunches reached slightly pointed ears, protruding from blonde hair that went to his shoulders and hung over his eyes, that would twitch whenever some strange animal or beast would make itself known.
The tail end of his black cloak would occasionally get caught upon a sharp rock or bone. During these occurrences, his crystal blue eyes would flash a reddish-yellow in anger. The green tunic and brown pants he wore beneath the cloak were already caked with mud and his own blood received from sharp branches or bushes. The charred wooden staff in his right hand made the most noise as it would break through the skulls and bones. As he stepped over a fallen tree Dar knew he was close. Close to what though? Being drawn to this disgusting place was to strong an urge for him to ignore.
Finally the fires came within site. Quickening his pace, Dar notices the stranger in the light cast by the flames. Tired of wandering around, he marches straight into the fire lit area, the grip on his staff tightening.[/size]
