Doran Cooney

Idalos' Only Almost NPC

0th of Cylus 0

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Doran Cooney
Approved Character
Posts: 461
Joined: Wed Oct 26, 2016 8:10 am
Race: Human
Profession: Performer
Renown: 40
Character Sheet
Plot Notes
Wealth Tier: Tier 1

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Miscellaneous

Doran Cooney

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Deceased: 45th Ymiden, 718

Age: 24

Race: Human

Date of Birth: 15th of Cylus, 694

Marks: None

Factions Joined: None

Language: Common (F)

Partners: Alistair Venora
Standing at five feet and eleven inches and weighing in at one hundred seventy-three pounds of lean muscle, Doran strikes a figure that is unassuming in size and stature in passing glance. His face bears the brunt of most scrutiny: full lips along a wide-set mouth; high cheekbones over a square jaw; thick brows over wide, almond shaped eyes colored a pale, dusty green; and large, beak-like nose tilted just off-center. Whether considered comely or repellent, interest in his features is usually garnered by a perpetual expression that seems as though it is lost somewhere among sorrow, bliss, and contemplation. He carries himself as if he were a smaller, softer seeming man. His footsteps are light but cautious; his words gentle but almost apologetic. There is the air of a daydream about him, the way the sun catches at the honeyed highlights and chestnut waves of his hair, the manner in which his tender touch seems more a placid whisper, the quiet glitter of interest shimmering like a ripple in a mellow sea.

His physical body is often overlooked beneath his simple, un-dyed garments of linen and leather. When it is warm, Doran often forgoes his boots in favor of the cool kiss of the earth against the soles of his feet, though he tends to keep shirt and pant on his body for all times that are not set aside for privacy. He often smells of a mix of dust, basil, and always some lingering floral scent, sometimes sweet, sometimes a more biting spice of something poisonous. His skin is often in a state of transition - where his arms and feet are exposed to the sunslight, he darkens several shades; where light cannot permeate, he remains a pearly pale - though small scars litter what would otherwise be the smooth hills and valleys of his muscled figure on his arms and chest and back. Distant, sporadic speckles of a darker tone help to moderate the otherwise monochromatic marble of his skin.
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There is something very gentle about Doran, and it is the foundation from which the rest of his psyche is built upon. He is slow to speak when there is nothing to speak of, but his curious nature and wonder at life often paint him a gregarious young man, asking questions and permissions when he is met with something new, or strange, or fantastic. Doran is earnest in his lines of questions, having never had much of a need for sarcasm, and he is easily confused by satire and the like. Still, he takes nothing personally, whether it be an insult or a jest, for he prefers not waste time on petty grievances. To Doran, all things are intriguing in their own way, and with so many things in the world, he chooses to spend his time enjoying them rather than pushing them away as so many often do.

His voice is light and airy, and it is not uncommon for him to talk to flowers as if they were dear friends of his. Very little bothers him, and in turn, he has no qualms with doing whatever he wants whenever he has a mind to. Unless a law directly forbids something he desperately desires to do, Doran has little need to disobey them. He is by no means a troublemaker by intention, but his antics and forays often land him in precarious situations. When faced with danger, Doran is more likely to head directly for it to find out just how dangerous it is. Still, he is not without common sense, and should the need arise for him to defend himself - or even flee -, he has no pride to keep him from either choice.

Held to his sister's dying wish, Doran lives life as if each day is the last. He makes no moves to end his life any sooner, but there is a fearlessness in him that, should his time come, he is more than ready for it. Often, he becomes lost in thought, drifting through streets and forests alike, either in memory or clairvoyance or both. He moves with a delayed purpose, often seeming to realize where he is long after he has arrived, but perfectly happy to continue along without missing a beat.

Though friendly, Doran can often come across as invasive with his questioning. He tends to state things as they are and how he sees them rather than to soften his words with half-truths; though his speech is often well-formed and managed, a testament to his uncle's teachings. He has no patience for stagnation, and should some one or thing prove boring, Doran moves on as easily as a breeze. There is a sadness about him, one that tends to surface when he is alone or believes to be. There is a heavy burden upon him, imposed by the arcs of his childhood, and try as he might to remain cheerful and whimsical, it weighs him down from time to time, always a steady reminder of his past.
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There was very little love involved in Doran's birth. His mother, a beautiful young woman then, took pleasure in teasing the husbands of her friends. Her lighthearted play, such fun for her and her friends, did not sit quite so well with a passionate young man whose wife had long since lost interest in him in favor of younger, more vivacious men. He took the joke to far, and Doran's mother retreated to her family's home in Venora, nursing wounds and, in time, her son.

He was not unwelcome in the family, but neither was he coveted as a young thing might be wont to be. There was a shame abut him, one that his mother could not help but remember each time she looked into the child's all too familiar, dark shimmering eyes. They looked very little alike: Doran fair and delicate like a flower, his mother wild and ravishing like a wolf. He reminded her of the man who had done her wrong, and while she tried to overlook it, to raise him as the child she wished to love, it was a difficult task and one that often found her blinking in surprise after the solid smack of her knuckles against his jaw brought her out of hysteric rage over minor misbehavior.

The rest of the family offered little advice in the way of parentage. As far as they were concerned, Doran was a bastard who was lucky enough to have a home, let alone a mother who, in spite of her shortcomings, cared so deeply for him. Doran did not disagree, not once he was able to talk and form his own ideas and understandings about the world around him. From a young age, he was constantly reminded of his luck to be part of a family, to have been raised as one of their one. He gladly endured his mother's temper and patiently accepted each and every sobbing apology. It was a pattern, one he grew accustomed to, and in time the blows inflicted upon him dulled his senses, his mind detaching itself from the pain.

It was around the fifth arc of his life that his mother married a man who had little knowledge of who Doran was or what his mother had done arcs prior. She told him he was to play the part of her nephew, a boy left alone in the world after sickness had taken her sister (a tale true enough in basic fact, as the woman had indeed passed not but an arc before). Doran had no argument, and so he became his mother's nephew, finding his newly wed uncle to be a man of much the same temperament and restraint as his mother. He became a scapegoat for any form of misery or misfortune, and when they did finally have a child, he was held responsible for her actions as well.

Lily, whatever part she played in Doran's scars, was held in Doran's highest regards. He had never seen something so perfect, staring up from her cradle with her emerald eyes and olive skin. When she cried, he was the first to tend to her, whether it be to ferry her to her mother or gather up her fallen toys. He doted on her, and in return, she listened to him like no other ever had. She gurgled at his stories, chuckled at his jokes, and cooed quiet, meaningless messages to him. She provided him the attention he had always craved but had never known to search for, and as she grew, so too did his love for her.

As his uncle was a learned man who had come to Venora to put into practice the theories he had expounded upon during his time in the capitol's university, both Doran and Lily were educated at home. His uncle taught them to read and write, to think critically, to memorize and recite, and while he was quick to act upon his anger when he and his nephew were alone, Doran's uncle was pleasantly surprised not only by Doran's aptitude for learning but his desire as well. Lily was as bright as she was beautiful, and even six arcs behind, she had little trouble keeping up, much to her father's joy.

Her success in the role of student aside, Lily was infatuated with the beauty of nature. For breaks, she and Doran would wander through their neighbor's gardens, laughing and singing as children often did. There was no place the two felt more at peace than a grove several bits from their home. A large tree housed a family of squirrels in its branches and a brusque badger in its roots. A rash of ivy clung to its trunk, and the ground was always littered with an array of wildflowers and berry bushes. It was, as they dubbed it, a sanctuary, and as they grew older, it became more and more important to them.

As time passed, Doran's uncle and his mother became more easily aggravated by the other. They fought over everything: Lily's shoes, Doran's latest bruise, the proper seeds to buy, where to plant the flowers. Lily and Doran ignored them, escaping whenever they could to explore further and further into the depths of the forest, delighting in the little secrets that nature shared with them. It was during one such outing that they happened across a grand oak, its branches beckoning in the hazy warmth of midday. They climbed it, as they were wont to do, calling to each other, playfully casting down handfuls of leaves to impede the other in their race to the top.

When the branch snapped beneath Lily's feet, Doran felt the splintering sensation in his own bones. He watched as she fell, graceful as a petal, to land with a sickening crash of bone and skin against cool, smooth stone and earth. She still drew breath as he rushed down through the branches, the once friendly twigs and bark now angrily tearing at his skin, hindering his descent, wasting precious trills. He arrived in a mess of twigs and blood, his hands gently brushing back her matted hair, wiping the blood from her perfect face. She did not appear afraid, though her body shook from the effort it took to breath in rasping gasps. Her eyes looked skyward, taking in the world she loved so dearly and settling on the only thing that mattered to her more, she whispered, "But weren't we marvelous?"

The journey home with her upon his back was arduous to say the least. In their time together, Doran had grown into a strapping young man, but his strength resided in his lithe dexterity, not the steady endurance needed to ferry a body a distance so far. The thought never crossed his mind to leave her there, as she lay, a fallen flower in a bed of crimson. When he did arrive, it was long since dark. Her body had begun to grow cold, and when his mother and uncle stepped out of the door ready to deliver punishment to the foolish children who had stayed so late past the time they should return, they instead fell to their knees, tears streaming down their faces and words lost.

Lily died that day, but her body did not let her leave in peace. The fall had injured her spine in such a way that she was little more than a head upon a corpse. Doran was blamed for her fall, and he bore the blows and guilt alike in silence. He stayed by Lily's side always, dedicating his life to hers, cursing the fate that had been dealt his precious cousin and not his own wretched self. Lily did not see it in the same light. She still laughed, though when she believed Doran was not looking tears would escape, whispering at the misery her life had become.

She assured him, day and night, that it was not his fault. She had long since given up on convincing her parents otherwise, but they allowed Doran to remain to play the role of caretaker, too heartbreaking it was for them to care for her themselves. When she was well enough, Doran would help her into a chair situated near the front of their home, his hands upon her shoulders and her head resting against his chest as he would kneel behind her, whispering to her stories they had woven as children. She loved him still and he her, but she was not happy and could not be. She tried, and he tried, but in the end, one evening while their parents slept and they stared into the quiet coals of the fire, asked what both had been thinking for far too long.

It was simple. The physician had warned that too strong a drought from the little bottle he had left them would surly send anyone into a sleep that would never break. They spoke quietly into the night, and for the first time since she had fall from that tree so many arcs ago, Lily was truly happy. When she was gone, Doran stayed behind until the morning light when his mother and uncle joined him, their tears, for once, mingling with his own. No one knew what he had done. There were condolences and grievers, his mother and uncle decided to move back to the capitol; they even invited him, Lily's death leaving a void in their hearts that they thought to replace with the son they had never truly wanted. Instead, he remained, unable to leave Lily alone in the earth without someone to watch over her.

He was tethered to her grave, but not by grief or remorse. In their breaks together, Lily had given him a task, a mission, for the rest of his life to carry out in her name and memory. She had commanded him to live, to love, to revel in the beauty of nature, and to never stop dreaming, for that was where she existed, in dreams, and should he stop, she would cease. He swore to her he would carry out her request until the end of trials, and free of the tethers of his mother and uncle, he began to explore life on his own for the first time, though never was he or would he be truly alone again.
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Currently, Doran resides in his cousin's vacated home. It is a four hundred square foot building with "one bed, two chairs, one table, two knives, a set of six plates, one chest, and a fireplace" (as stated here). The building is partitioned into two rooms: a bedroom and a room for everything else. His bed is situated directly in the middle of the bedroom and, aside from a chamber pot, there is nothing decorating the walls or floors in any way. The second room is much the same as the bedroom: the table rests in the middle of the room, both chairs on either side, perpendicular to the fireplace's face. His chest sits directly opposite the fireplace, though there is little in it save his boots when he leaves them at home. Nothing adorns the walls within his house nor does he keep any sort of decoration upon the table or floor. The home is built in true Venoran fashion; however, and vines creep along limestone walls, their tendrils digging into the rare crack here and there. There is a small garden of carefully maintained flowers in plots on either side of a heavy wooden door, human care apparent in their arrangements and variety, and a fruit tree hangs lazily over the cottage's roof on the house's eastern side.
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SkillAcquiredSpent KnowledgeProficiency
Acrobatics80 /100 (80/100) 33/ 60 Master
Endurance51 /100(80/251) 33/33 Expert
Strength51 /100(80/251) 25/33 Expert
Unarmed Combat51 /100 (80/251) 23/22 Expert
Detection 51/100 (80/251) 28/22 Expert
Stealth27/100(30/251) 14/22 Competent
Running25/100(25/251) 10/22 Novice
Climbing25 /100(25/251) 2/11 Novice
Swimming 5 /100(5 /251) 0/0 Novice
Medicine3 /100(3 /251) 2/0 Novice
Acrobatics (25) and Climbing (25) - starting package
Unarmed Combat (25) - racial bonus
Acrobatics - fast track
[anchor=marks][/anchor]

Knowledge

Primary

Acrobatics: Handstand
Acrobatics: The Importance of Stretching
Acrobatics: Increasing Flexibility Through Repetition
Acrobatics: Cartwheel
Acrobatics: Somersault

Acrobatics: Maintaining a Position
Acrobatics: Shifting Weight to Ease Strain
Acrobatics: Shuffling in a Squat
Acrobatics: Using Stretches to Soothe Stiffness

Acrobatics: Avoiding Collisions on the Street
Acrobatics: Using Momentum to Soften Blows

Acrobatics: Keeping Balance on Slick Surfaces
Acrobatics: Back Arch

Acrobatics: Scaling a Fence
Acrobatics: Bending Knees to Absorb Impact

Acrobatics: Front-handspring
Acrobatics: Back-handspring
Acrobatics: Traveling Handstand
Acrobatics: Dive Roll

Acrobatics: Roundoff
Acrobatics: Front-tuck Flip
Acrobatics: Back-tuck Flip
Acrobatics: Front-layout Flip
Acrobatics: Back-layout Flip

Acrobatics: Wrapping One’s Legs Around a Body to Keep from Falling
Acrobatics: Turning to Squeeze Through a Small Space
Acrobatics: Stretching One's Neck to Remove Kinks
Acrobatics: Adjusting Your Posture to Sleep in a Small Space

Acrobatics: Front Walkover
Acrobatics: Back Walkover
Acrobatics: Flipping Over a Small Child
Acrobatics: Running On Your Hands
Acrobatics: Back Whip Layout


Endurance: Dealing with physical blows
Endurance: Caring for another is physically exhausting
Endurance: Bracing Against the Cold
Endurance: Conserving Body Heat
Endurance: Distracting the Mind from Discomfort

Endurance: Generate Heat In Cold Conditions
Endurance: Taking a Punch to the Face

Endurance: Walking Long Distances
Endurance: Adjusting to the Heat

Endurance: Knowing the Difference Between Fatigue and Pain
Endurance: Pushing One's Limits by Ignoring Light Fatigue
Endurance: Holding One’s Ground Against Advances
Endurance: Taking Breaks to Keep Going
Endurance: Withstanding a Slap to the Back

Endurance: Invigorating Yourself With a Bath
Endurance: Good Company Can Help with General Weariness
Endurance: Pushing Past Fear to Accomplish a Task
Endurance: Sitting Down to Deal with Dizziness

Endurance: Combating Fatigue With Excitement
Endurance: Using Numbness to Push Through Fatigue
Endurance: Switching Between Different Muscles to Slow Fatigue
Endurance: Letting the Weight of an Axe Carry It to Conserve Energy

Endurance: Taking Time To Calm Down After Dashing
Endurance: Dealing With Oversized Clothes

Endurance: Focusing Thoughts Inward to Avoid Thinking About the Heat
Endurance: Finding Relief From Pain in Different Pain
Endurance: Taking an Arrow Through the Thigh
Endurance: Taking an Arrow Across the Back
Endurance: Riding a Horse While Dealing With a Wounded Leg

Endurance: Keeping One's Self from Flailing When in Pain
Endurance: Carrying Heavy Things in Sweltering Heat
Endurance: Breaking Up a Difficult Job with Breaks
Endurance: Lifting Heavy Objects With a Recovering Leg
Endurance: Carrying Heavy Things Through a Crowd Without Dropping Them


Strength: Panic boosts strength
Strength: Emotion impacts strength
Strength: Maintaining a Gentle Touch
Strength: Pull Up
Strength: Cutting Vegetables
Strength: Lift with Your Legs
Strength: Weighted Squat
Strength: Walking With a Heavy Object Held in Front
Strength: Lift With a Straight Back

Strength: Supporting Your Weight by Wrapping Your Legs Around When Being Carried
Strength: Walking Over Unsure Terrain
Strength: Moving Someone’s Head Away With Your Palm
Strength: Pushing a Heavier Man to Try to Knock Him Off Balance
Strength: Supporting One’s Weight With a Propped Arm

Strength: Swinging an Axe
Strength: Alternating Carrying Methods to Work Different Muscles
Strength: Widening Your Stance to Increase Power of a Swing

Strength: Using Your Strength to Increase the Force of Punches
Strength: Holding a Bridge With Only Three Limbs
Strength: Using Your Leg Muscles to Add Speed to Your Sprint
Strength: Keeping Your Arms Up Even Under Pressure
Strength: Holding You Hand Out for a Prolonged Period of Time

Strength: Supporting the Weight of Another Person With One’s Full Body
Strength: Helping Another Person Carry Something Too Heavy for One
Strength: Gaining Speed While Carrying Something Heavy With the End in Sight

Secondary

Climbing: Scaling a tree
Climbing: Finding handholds

Detection: Using limited lighting to find your way at night
Detection: Noticing a Door Is Unlocked
Detection: Discerning the Differences Between Regional Seasonal Heat
Detection: Searching for Familiar Landmarks
Detection: Recognizing Unfamiliar Voices

Detection: Noting Familiar Scents in the Air
Detection: Spotting Reflections in the Surface of the Water
Detection: Picking Up on Suggested Cues By One's Absence
Detection: Taking Note of One's Scars
Detection: Listening to Muffled Voices Through a Door Without Pressing Your Ear to It
Detection: Estimating Someone's Age by Their Appearance
Detection: Spotting Regional Differences Between Similar Plantlife
Detection: Picking Out Important Information from Casual Explanations

Detection: Picking out Tone Through Listening to Only Voices
Detection: Pairing Tone with Familiar Gestures Even When Unable to See the Speaker
Detection: Determining When a Conversation Seems to Be Going Nowhere
Detection: Taking Note of Small, Visual Details in the Environment

Detection: Searching for Familiar Facial Features
Detection: Feeling for the Vibe of a Room
Detection: Gauging Differences in Height
Detection: Discerning Different Emotions in Someone Else’s Eyes
Detection: Noticing the Difference Between a Dangerous Person and Hostile Intent

Detection: Gauging the Relative Strength of an Opponent
Detection: Seeing the Difference Between Devotion and Zealotry in Someone’s Eyes
Detection: Noticing When Someone Is Going to Reply
Detection: Spotting Physical Similarities Between Siblings

Detection: Reading Signs in the Rain
Detection: Realising When Someone Is Overly Weary


Running: Dashing In Only a Small Towel
Running: Short Indoor Sprint
Running: Adjusting Speed to Stop Quickly
Running: Sharp Indoor Veer

Running: Light Jog
Running: Increasing Pace to Catch Up to Someone
Running: Keeping One's Weight Over One's Toes
Running: Steady Breaths
Running: Warm-up With a Jog
Running: Tie Your Shoes


Stealth: Subtle Hand Movements
Stealth: Stepping Quietly With Bare Feet Indoors
Stealth: Sprinting Quietly Indoors
Stealth: Opening a Door Quietly

Stealth: Entering a Home Without Making Unnecessary Noise
Stealth: Attack from Behind
Stealth: Stepping Carefully When Walking Over Wooden Boards
Stealth: Holding One’s Breath to Remain Undetected in Silence

Stealth: Tensing One's Muscles to Keep From Shifting Around
Stealth: Ignoring the Sound of One's Own Heartbeat
Stealth: Moving in Time With Another's Footsteps
Stealth: Strike First
Stealth: Waking Another by Holding a Hand Over the Other's Mouth

Stealth: Forcing Yourself to Be Quiet by Blocking Your Own Airways

Unarmed Combat: Reading Hostility in Posture
Unarmed Combat: Creating Distance with Assailants
Unarmed Combat: Anticipating Attacks - Lunges
Unarmed Combat: Escaping a Chokehold - Knee to the Groin
Unarmed Combat: Keep Your Eye on Your Opponent
Unarmed Combat: Controlling an Opponent Via Hair

Unarmed Combat: Open Handed Slap
Unarmed Combat: Ducking Out of a Headlock of the Legs
Unarmed Combat: Blocking a Roundhouse to the Face With Both Forearms
Unarmed Combat: Headbutting in Close Proximity
Unarmed Combat: Roundhouse Kick to the Torso
Unarmed Combat: Short Jab
Unarmed Combat: Follow-up Jab

Unarmed Combat: Anticipating Attacks - Tackles
Unarmed Combat: Sidestep
Unarmed Combat: Roundhouse Knee
Unarmed Combat: Use the Environment to You Advantage
Unarmed Combat: Rear Tackle
Unarmed Combat: Two Handed Hammer Strike
Unarmed Combat: Use the Opponent’s Momentum Against Them

Unarmed Combat: Trying to Stop a Dagger by Pulling on One’s Arm
Unarmed Combat: Blades Are at an Advantage

Unarmed Combat: Pressing into the Ground to Become a Smaller Target

Misc Knowledge

The Basic History of Rynmere
Lily: Last Words
Sinnammyn: Tunäwä
Sinnammyn: Not Irascible, Just Blunt
Sinnammyn: A Freed Slave as of Ymiden 715
Sinnammyn: Born in Ashan 706
Sinnammyn: Seeking to End Tunäwän Slavery
Tunäwä: Don't Like Being Picked Up
Tunäwä: Slaves in Rynmere
Tunäwä: Appearances Change with the Cycles
Tunäwä: Don't Typically Shake Hands

"Kieran": Hails From Ne'Haer
"Kieran": Landowner of Cappola
"Kieran": Ex-Doctor
Personal: Smitten with "Kieran"
Alistair Venora: “Kieran”
Emerson Sands: The Empress
Alistair: Once-member of the Coven
Alistair: Proud to Be a Mage
The Coven: A Real Organization

Spirits: Fact, Not Fiction
Spirits: Naturally Wield Magic
Reyard Seymour: Biqaj
Reyard Seymour: The First Rupturer
Alistair: Duty Is Closely Linked to Morality
Alistair: Magic Is a Tool
Alistair: Doesn’t Need to Eat Often

Alistair: A Doctor of Na’Haer
Alistair: A Public Figure in Na’Haer
Alistair: Back Tattoo
Alistair: Necromancer
Jonathan: Transmuter
Jonathan: Threat - "If you ever call [Alistair] an abomination again, I'll make you regret the day you set foot here."
Damien: Lich
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Thread or Skill NamePoints AwardedPoints SpentRunning Total
Unarmed Combat 25 [RB] 25 00
Starting Package 50--50
Acrobatics --2525
Climbing --2500
Strength 5 [PG] 500
Endurance 5 [PG] 500
Medicine 3 [PG] 300
Upside Down 10 --10
And How Does One Dream? 10 -- 20
Might It Simply Be Found 10 -- 30
Swimming -- 5 25
Or Must It Be Drawn Forth? 10 -- 35
Strength -- 15 20
Endurance -- 20 --
Pretty Petioles 15 -- 15
Fragile Fronds 15 -- 30
The Frontier 15 -- 45
Cappola Is a Made Up Word 15 -- 60
Acrobatics -- 25 35
A Toast to the Departed 10 -- 45
Tell Me More 15 -- 60
Stories from Outer Space 15 -- 75
Steady Steady 10 -- 85
Around Around 10 -- 95
Acrobatics -- 25 70
Endurance -- 5 65
Strength -- 5 60
To Be Alone With You 15 -- 75
Back and Forth 10 -- 85
Such Portal, Much Wow 15 -- 100
Campfires and Other Things That Burn 15 -- 115
Strength -- 5 110
Debtor's Dilemma 10 -- 120
Unarmed Combat -- 5 115
Chop Chop 10 -- 125
Endurance -- 50 75
Our Father, Who Died Long Ago 15 -- 90
Handy Standy 10 -- 100
Acrobatics -- 5 95
Are Those Crystals, Or Are You Just Happy to See Me? 15 -- 110
Detection -- 25 85
Stealth -- 25 60
A Birthday Surprise! 10 -- 70
Bruised Blossoms 15 -- 85
Strength -- 50 35
This Is a Dream 10 -- 45
This Is Also a Dream 10 -- 55
This Too Is a Dream 10 -- 65
This Is Another a Dream 10 -- 75
This Isn't a Dream (But It Is) 10 -- 85
Detection -- 5 80
Running -- 25 55
Sister Wives... Or Brother Husbands? 15 -- 70
Where Is Your Birthday Spirit? 10 -- 80
Birthday Girls and Bad Boys 10 -- 90
Detection -- 50 40
Birthday Buddies 10 -- 50
Unarmed Combat -- 50 0
Rest for the Wary 15 -- 15
Happy Birthday, Dear Mother 10 -- 25
Ain't No Party Like This Birthday Party 10 -- 35
The Three of Us 15 -- 50
Returning Home 10 -- 60
Here or Na'there? 10 -- 70
To Animate Life 15 -- 85
Hidi Seek 10 -- 95
A Promise to End All Promises 10 -- 105
Who Are You? 10 -- 115
What Do You Do? 10 -- 125
Where Did You Come From? 10 -- 135
Stealth -- 5 130
Where Did You Go? 10 -- 140
I Can't Feel My Leg 10 -- 150
Every Time We Touch I Get This Feeling 10 -- 160
Stop! In the Name of Love! 10 -- 170
Think It Oh Over 10 -- 180
Don't You Feel My Heart Beat Fast 10 -- 190
Don't Worry About a Thing 10 -- 200
Bloodbored 0.2 Final Mix 15 -- 215
10 -- 225
It's Just a Hand in the Bush 10 -- 235
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Name: Ziemowit "Ziemko" Wrona
PENDING PSF
Age: 24

Race: Human

Date of Birth: The 20th trial of Cylus in the arc 694.

Marks: None

Factions Joined: None

Language: Common (F)

At a glance: 6' 4"; athletic build; tawny, side-cropped hair; pale green and brown eyes; commanding presence; low baritone; careful enunciation; clipped sentences; cold gaze

SkillAcquiredProficiency SkillAcquiredProficiency
Acrobatics51/100Expert Detection51/100 Expert
Endurance51/100Expert Blades (Daggers)51/100Expert
Strength51/100Expert Thrown (Daggers)51/100Expert
Stealth25/100Competent Running25/100Competent
Appearance: Everything about Ziemko's features seem carved from stone, solid and precise, save for his ears which stick out from the sides of his head, a mistake sculptors would never make for fear of them breaking off beneath the weight of the weather's whims. The rest of his face, from his sharp, arced brows to his sheer, high cheekbone, precise angles of his jaw, and flat chin are usually as unmoving as the statues he is so often compared to. His lips, while full, adorn a narrow mouth, set neatly beneath his small, slightly down turned nose that sits just south of the center of his face. His eyes, though faded green, are often shadowed by his prominent brow, giving him a near constant brooding countenance. His hair is kept short on the sides, though it grows longer on the top, and is typically well maintained: combed and oiled.

Much like his face, his body is carefully constructed. While his muscles are well formed and proportional from his shoulders down to the firm curve of his calves, Ziemko tends to dress conservatively, appearing smaller than he truly is: high collared, long sleeved shirts; trousers and breeches that fit more to the curve of general shape of his body, not each rise and dip of his thighs and buttocks; knee-high leather boots; and almost always a pair of gloves. He presents as a very neat, almost immaculate individual, and while he is not unable to handle dirt and grime on his person, he is usually quick to remove it if possible.

His forearms and have several thin scars, scattered but clearly the result of his time spent with his daggers. Around his wrists and ankles, there is clear, ugly scarring, much like what one would expect of a slave. From the top of the outermost end of his left collar bone in a rough diagonal to the top of his hip on the opposite side, his skin is scarred - though this, unlike his wrists, has healed well and is mostly a lighter discoloration.

Most noticeable - and simultaneously unnoticeable -, there is a confusing presence about him; naturally, he blends in. Perhaps due to his reticent nature, it's easy to forget he's there in spite of his height. Rarely is he ever in one's way and often not even in one's line of sight. Yet, should his gaze ever meet another's eyes, it's as if the world shifts for a moment and reveals an intense, dangerous, and cold aura that requires no attunement nor particular preceptive skill to discern. Upon breaking his gaze, he quickly fades, though often the memory of what has been seen will linger.

Personality: Distant and reserved, Ziemko rarely smiles and almost never laughs. While his gaze is exceptionally piercing, belying something deep and dark held just below the still surface of his soul's waters, very little else suggests that he is anything other than a handsome, though stoic, young man of wealth and education. When he speaks, he keeps his sentences short, almost as if he has only so many words to his name and doesn't wish to spend them if possible. His voice is rich and strong, though it registers as either a low baritone or clearer, higher bass; there is something powerful in his tone, even when subservient, betraying both his strength of will and body in one. Most of all, his eyes regularly stare; the intensity of his gaze has been called both unnerving and aggressive, but it is something he has found himself unable to well control - even when asked to address such things directly, the best he can do is to avert his gaze.

The bonds of blood and soul are the single most important thing to him. All actions taken and motives pursued can be traced back to his dedication to his family, bordering on the point of near obsession; it is a compulsion, instilled in him since he was young, and has bloomed into the overwhelming need to protect those who share his blood, no matter the circumstances. Beyond this, he believes himself to possesses very little else in terms of who he is as an individual. Anyone outside of his family is little better than an animal: potentially dangerous but nothing more. Though most of his time is spent in careful observation of those around him, meticulously running scenario after scenario of potential danger over in his mind, he has a handful of things he will partake of when he has time to himself.

Firstly, he is extremely predisposed towards poetry. Though he possesses not a single artistic bone in his body, he thoroughly enjoys the spoken words of poets and bards and, each night before turns in, he reads one or two passages from a worn, leather-bound book of poems he's collected throughout the arcs of his travels upon his families merchant ships. Many of them are memorized, and he sometimes will quote specific lines by rote rather than using his own words in the rare conversations he holds.

Secondly, he is fascinated with sex. Not in an erotic or romantic sense, but the actual physical act of it. While he has had a handful of encounters of his own, he much prefers to quietly watch and observe, similar to a well mannered student in a classroom. He's been known to visit brothels when required to take time for himself, during which he will rarely ever engage, instead choosing to sit and pensively observe those he hires, his thoughts hidden beneath the fierce blaze of his gaze.

Thirdly, he loathes slovenliness. While more a personal standard than one extended towards the vast majority of the rest of the world, for him and those he considers his family, he cannot stand to see dirt or grime besmirch their clothes or persons. Though he is not necessarily unreasonable, allowing mud upon boots during deluges or blood stained across armors and blades during battle, when there is no reason for it, it must be cleaned. He has a very meticulous bathing routine, and hygiene is one of the few subjects he will actively engage in, though he tends to be especially blunt when speaking of such things.

Finally, he is absolutely terrified of being restrained - to some extent, this applies to small spaces as well, though his panic is far less extreme. Be they simple bonds of ropes or heavy iron shackles and chains, any restriction of his movement instills within him a blind, near hysteria. He loses any and all composure, and will employ anything from tearful begging to frantic screaming to despondency in an attempt to free himself; though there is little thought to his reactionary tactics. Due to this overwhelming fear, he is not fond of physical contact of any kind, though he makes allowances from time to time where appropriate, such as handshakes or brushing past someone on the street.

There is something clearly missing in his soul. While not something so drastic as the involvement of an Immortal's meddling, it can be seen in the way he conducts himself, the quiet but icily fervent nature of his stare, the half apologetic, half dangerous lilt to his words. He is a weapon, one finely tuned, with humanity seemingly well in check - yet, still human, still seeking what all humans seek. While he is reliable in both personality and routine, there is always something just a little bit off about him; the vaguest hint of instability lingering on the edge of his shadow.

History: Emil Wrona, a trader based within the city of Andaris, wealthy merchant, and a well known womanizer, fathered two children outside of his marriages, one was whisked away into the rolling fields of Venora, the other was offered up to him, the mother hoping to ensnare Emil with the mewling babe. To her misfortune, the child was taken and she was silenced, while the other was allowed her escape - unworried that she would behave in so "crass" a fashion, as Emil had called it. Every moment of the young Ziemowit's life, he was reminded that he was a bastard, that it was only by the grace and magnanimity of his father that he was given food, shelter, clothing, even attention at all. His dependence on his father, his desire to please him and prove his place within the family, and his lack of compassion for anyone else made him a perfect candidate for the family's personal shadow. Trained to wield blades both near and far from a tender age, he was raised primarily though punishment and fear of the consequences of actions lacking perfection. Many trials he spent locked away in the dark of the family's cellar, screaming himself hoarse until sleep would finally overtake him. So passed the formative years of his childhood, and his dependence on his father, who was the most consistent with his well timed, duplicitously kind words and tender moments shared, became an obsession, one that his father made certain extended to all those who shared his blood.

During his adolescence, he grew much stronger, taller, more dangerous. Well conditioned to never raise a finger against his family, he was still easily restrained, though his stints locked away had become rare - he was smart enough not to repeat any behavior that would end up with him chained, naked and terrified, to the darkness. His skill with his blades passed through the fumbling stages, leaving behind the scars of his efforts but also presenting the promise of his capabilities. During his fifteenth arc, Ziemko killed his first man.

Finally assigned to his father's side, he proved his worth by unflinchingly shielding his father from a man's sword after a deal gone south, and cutting the assailant's throat in turn. His loyalty definitively proved in the only way one disregarding one's own life might display, after he recovered from his wonds, his training began once more, though this time it was more than simple combat. Subterfuge, sneaking and slithering through the shadows, learning to make himself smaller and unassuming, a phantom in a room until he was called upon to play the role of vengeful wraith... he excelled at such things, pleased to serve his father and his family in any way possible.

While his brothers cared little for him specifically, they enjoyed his protection and the feelings of safety and comfort that came with knowing that, no matter what trouble they stumbled into, Ziemko would be there to clean things up, often quite literally. The eldest of the trio, Leopold - Emil's favored by far-, had begun to deal with less than pristine suppliers and far more questionable distributors. During Ashan of 718, Leopold bit off more than he was able to chew. He'd arranged a deal with a group of smugglers who dealt in drugs, slaves, and, supposedly, magical items. While he'd promised to find suppliers for their goods, it turned out the bounty of turning them in was far more lucrative. Having conducted his business on the side, away from his father's eyes, Leopold directed the Knights to the smuggler's locations. They were arrested and, subsequently, executed for a far larger number of crimes than had been listed or expected.

Shortly after, the family received an unmarked letter. There was only a single sentence written upon it: "Family for family, blood for blood."

At first, there was little concern over the threat. After all, they were a wealthy family, and it wasn't the first time they'd received menacing notes in the post. Things changed after the first murder. Emil's third wife, Rochelle, was found hanging from the manor's chandelier. There had been no signs of break-in, and though they hired more security, more eyes and ears and swords and spears, the second death came nonetheless. Ziemko and the others who had been tasked with protecting the family worked tirelessly, day and night, but, after they managed to remove a poisonous gas that had been deposited in the second wife's bedroom, the guards themselves began to disappear - turning up throughout the manner, the city, the surrounding areas, all corpses and all carrying the same, unmarked note: "This did not concern you."

It didn't take long for the hired help, both servants and mercenaries, to abandon the Wronas to their fate. Whomever the smugglers had been a part of, they were powerful and angry, and it seemed there was no respite for the dwindling numbers of the merchant family. The Knights were too busy with the general populace to be bothered with so particular a series of murders. One by one, they fell, until only Leopold, Emil, and Ziemko remained. In his cowardice, Leopold had kept the reasons for such brutality hidden from his father - but with his life next in line, he finally revealed what it was he had done. Emil cursed him, but it changed nothing. The next trial, his last heir was dead - his head found drifting, eyes blank, in crimson filled tub.

Before they had been deserted by any who might aid them, Emil had taken steps to find the mother of his second bastard. With only Ziemko left to him, Emil passed on his family name to his last remaining child, having denied him such for so long. It was an empty gesture, their gold long since spent, house in disrepair, and legacy in tatters; still, it was everything Ziemko had ever wanted - before his family was stolen from him. Thus, he received the name with a bittersweet bile in his throat, finally a true Wrona after all the others had been slain. Emil didn't stop with the name alone. He gave Ziemko both the locket that held a woman's face and the location of her home, forcing Ziemko to swear to him that he would find the other bastard and protect him - just as he had sworn to do with the others.

Though he refused at first, Emil had one last secret to impart. He was ill, dying, even, and he would be damned before he let the last of his bloodline be swept away by the foul waters of idiocy. Though he held no special love for Ziemko, and certainly none for the unnamed baster, Emil - like all fathers - did not want his name to end with him. His father, stern as ever, refused to let him see him die. There was nothing to be gained from it, he'd said, and if Ziemko refused to leave, he swore he'd kill him himself. So, reluctantly, Ziemko set out to the woman who had borne his brother - the man who would soon be the last of his family.
Image
City Dweller Starting Package
  • Standard Cloak
  • Standard Shirt (Linen)
  • Standard Pants (Linen)
  • Standard Undergarments
  • Standard Pair of Boots (Leather)
  • One Set of Toiletries: Soap, A comb or brush, razor, toothbrush, toothpaste,
  • One waterskin
  • Two sets of eating utensils
  • Tinderbox
Woolen Cloak with Fastener
Leather Gloves
Woolen Tunic
Leather Breeches
Weather Proof Rucksack (Med)
Leather Boots
Large Towel (2)
Leather Sandals

Ziemko:
Two Person Tent
Bedroll x 2
Dagger x 8
Hatchet (small)
Total Currency: 0 ON, 1358 GN, 9 SN, 14 CN
ItemDebitCredit
Starting Package ... 100 GN
Woolen Cloak with Fastener 10GN 9SN 8 CN ...
Leather Gloves 8 GM ...
Leather Breeches 4 GM ...
Woolen Tunic 8 GM 6 CM ...
Weather Proof Rucksack (Med) 9 SN ...
Vahlar 716 Wages (5% tax/expense) ... 467 GN 4 SN
Large Towels (2) 3 SN ...
Cylus 718 (inactive) ... ...
Ashan 718 (14% tax) ... 1163 GN 5 SN 8C CN
Silver Opal ring 32 GN ...
Leather Boots 4 GN ...
Two Person Tent 30 GN ...
Bedroll x 2 10 GN ...
Dagger x 8 24 GN ...
Hatchet (small) 5 SN ...
Travel to Venora from Andaris by Rented Horse 48 GN ...
Na'haer Rent 190 GN ...
Leather Sandals 1 GN 2 SN ...
ItemCredit
Human 10
Human in Rynmere 10
Positive Performance 5
Assisting the Elderly 5
Kindness to the Elderly 5
Alley Fight 5
Total Fame: 40
Threads
DateThread NameStatus
Ymiden 712
53 Ymiden 712 And How Does One Dream? Reviewed
53 Ymiden 712 Might It Be Simply Found Reviewed
53 Ymiden 712 Or Must It Be Drawn Forth? Reviewed
Ymiden 713
33 Ymiden 713 Debtor's Dilemma Reviewed
Vhalar 713
21 Vhalar 713 Turning TricksOngoing
Ashan 715
67 Ashan 715 Steady Steady Reviewed
87 Ashan 715 Around Around Reviewed
Vhalar 715
12 Vhalar 715 Back and Forth Reviewed
Vhalar 716
72 Vhalar 716 Upside Down Reviewed
Ashan 718
3 Ashan 718 Arrival in Venora Ongoing
6 Ashan 718 Pretty Petioles Reviewed
6 Ashan 718 Fragile Fronds Reviewed
6 Ashan 718 Bruised Blossoms Reviewed
13 Ashan 718 Handy Standy Reviewed
17 Ashan 718 Arrival Ongoing
27 Ashan 718 But What Is a Name? Ongoing
30 Ashan 718 Handy Standy Reviewed
49 Ashan 718 I Didn't Hear You the First Time Ongoing
53 Ashan 718 The Meat of the Problem Reviewed
53 Ashan 718 Rest for the Wary Reviewed
78 Ashan 718 The Frontier Reviewed
78 Ashan 718 Cappola Is a Made Up Word Reviewed
78 Ashan 718 Our Choices Completed
78 Ashan 718 A Toast to the Departed Reviewed
80 Ashan 718 Tell Me More Reviewed
80 Ashan 718 Stories From Outer Space Reviewed
80 Ashan 718 To Be Alone With You Reviewed
81 Ashan 718 Such Portal, Much Wow Reviewed
89 Ashan 718 Campfires and Other Things That Burn Reviewed
90 Ashan 718 Our Father, Who Died Long Ago Reviewed
90 Ashan 718 Are Those Crystals Or Are You Just Happy To See Me? Reviewed
90 Ashan 718 The Three of Us Reviewed
91 Ashan 718 Sister Wives... or Brother Husbands? Reviewed
91 Ashan 718 To Animate Life Reviewed
92 Ashan 718 Returning Home Reviewed
92 Ashan 718 Here Or Na'there? Reviewed
92 Ashan 718 Hidi Seek Reviewed
92 Ashan 718 A Promise to End All Promises Reviewed
Ymiden 718
1 Ymiden 718 A Birthday Surprise! Reviewed
1 Ymiden 718 Where Is Your Birthday Spirit? Reviewed
1 Ymiden 718 Birthday Girls and Bad Boys Reviewed
1 Ymiden 718 Birthday Buddies Reviewed
1 Ymiden 718 Happy Birthday, Dear Mother Reviewed
1 Ymiden 718 Ain't No Party Like This Birthday Party Reviewed
1 Ymiden 718 Who Are You? Reviewed
1 Ymiden 718 What Do You Do? Reviewed
1 Ymiden 718 Where Did You Come From? Reviewed
1 Ymiden 718 Where Did You Go? Reviewed
8 Ymiden 718 I Can't Feel My Leg Reviewed
8 Ymiden 718 Everytime We Touch I Get This Feeling Reviewed
11 Ymiden 718 Stop! In the Name of Love! Reviewed
11 Ymiden 718 Think It Oh Over Reviewed
15 Ymiden 718 Can't You Feel My Heart Beat Fast Reviewed
15 Ymiden 718 From Rose to Risen Ongoing
15 Ymiden 718 Don't Worry About a Thing Reviewed
16 Ymiden 718 Cause Every Little Thing Is Gonna Be Alright Reviewed
30 Ymiden 718 Everbody Was Kung Fu Fighting Completed
30 Ymiden 718 Their Kicks Were Fast As Lightning Completed
35 Ymiden 718 The State of Things Ongoing
37 Ymiden 718 In Fact It Was a Little Bit Frightening Completed
45 Ymiden 718 But Weren't We Marvelous? Completed
Emea
15 Ymiden 718 This Is a Dream Reviewed
15 Ymiden 718 This Is Also a Dream Reviewed
15 Ymiden 718 This Too Is a Dream Reviewed
15 Ymiden 718 This Is Another Dream Reviewed
15 Ymiden 718 This Isn't a Dream (But It Is) Reviewed
15 Ymiden 718 Bloodbored 0.2 Final Mix Reviewed
Placeholders
Ashan 718 JonathanDoranNahaer Unwritten
Ashan 718 AlistairDoranNahaer Unwritten
Last edited by Doran Cooney on Fri Oct 28, 2016 3:56 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 8510

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