Post by graverobber on Dec 28, 2011 19:43:03 GMT -8
Give Me The Simple!
ISKALOR
'Despite the lies that you're making
Your love is mine for the taking
My love is just waiting
To turn your tears to roses'
Your love is mine for the taking
My love is just waiting
To turn your tears to roses'
Give Me The Difficult!
NAME| Iskalor -- Is'or or I'lor if Impress
BIRTHDAY| November
HOWOLDAREYOU| 18
GENDER| Male
SEXUALORIENTATION| Bisexual -- But leans VERY heavily toward females
RANK| Candidate
Is That Really It?!?
HAIRCOLOR| Brown
EYECOLOR| Brown
BUILD| Iskalor is built toned and slim. He's solid and well muscular overall.
HEIGHT| 5'9"
PIERCINGS| --
EXTRAS| He wears this bracelet everyday, on his right wrist.
FACE CLAIM| Mark Wahlberg
SUMITUP| Iskalor is a rather striking young lad, though he would never really think that he is very much to look at. He's muscular and toned from Turns of working alongside Jocba in the Crafthall and around the house with Olivia. He has very simple taste in clothing, but he can always be seen with a simple black leather wrist bracelet on his right wrist, a gift from Jocba.
Give Me A Little More!
LIKES| -- Relaxing under a cool breeze
-- Tending to the animals of the Weyr
-- Listening to anyone who comes to him with a problem
-- Sitting in a field and watching the sky
-- Feeding flits and such
DISLIKES| -- People that trample over the weak
-- Those who rule without knowing how too
-- Criminals that go unpunished
-- Anyone who looks down upon slaves or the poor
-- A man who raises his hand to a woman
STRENGTHS| -- Loyal
-- A good listener
-- Friend for life
WEAKNESSES| -- Vengeful
-- Aggressive
-- Uncaring at times
THEODDBITS| -- He has a bad habit of thinking of the past. It can distract him from everyday things; and the best way to tell that he is recalling the past is to watch his lips. If he stats biting at his lips, then he's thinking of the past and that can normally end up bad.
PUTITALLTOGETHER| Iskalor is kind of an average guy on the surface, but once you start to get to know him better, you find out a lot of things. One such thing; Iskalor never forgets a face, both a blessing and a curse. His memory is excellent, which means he remembers the faces of his mother and father as they handed him off to his Master and he remembers the look on his Mistress' face as his world went black when they were murdered. Besides being able to recall faces, he is sharp as a whip when it comes to reacting, but again, it is something that he learned from being a slave. He learned early on that in order to survive, he would have to defend himself, no one else would. As a result, he learned to fight young and protect the weak. As a result, he tends to slouch as he walks and keeps his head down, but that could also come from being told as a child that his head could not be taller than his Master or Mistress . . . and his Mistress was a short lady.
And Who's In Your Life?!?
PARENTS| They sold him for a meal and thus are dead to him
SIBLINGS| He doesn't know if he has any
COMPANION| N/A
PETS|
NAME| Repeat Name-Personality as needed
DESCRIPTION| Color codes, and everything else
PERSONALITY| A paragraph or so.
SIGNIFICANTOTHERS| Jocba - Tanner - Master that bought him -- deceased; Olivia - Jocba's wife -- deceased; Jociva - Jocba's and Olivia's blooddaughter - Iskalor's friend and Mistress -- deceased
THEPAST| Iskalor was born at a small Hold that still practiced slavery. His parents, though he didn't know them for very long, did do the best that they could to give him a good life. His father made sure that he was being sold to a good man and woman, but that was as far as either one of them could do. As it was, Iskalor was raised mostly by Jocba and his wife Olivia. He was five when the young Tanner bought him, not so much for a slave, but as a playmate for his two Turn old daughter, Jociva. Jocba was good to Iskalor, giving him a limited education, and teaching him a bit of his Craft, even giving him items that Iskalor treasured for life.
For the first couple of Turns, Iskalor actually tried to run away from Jocba and Olivia, but it wasn't until he was nine and Jociva seven that he finally stopped trying to run away. It wasn't anything special that caused him to stop running away, mostly just that he started to see his Master and Mistress in a new light. No matter how many times he had run away, they would always go out looking for him and be happy to have him back. He was actually being treated like a son rather than a slave, though he didn't have everything that Jociva had, he saw others that had it worse.
On night, when Iskalor was sixteen, Jocba had informed him that he would be late, that he was creating a present for Olivia. By the time night fell, Iskalor stood by the doorway, waiting for Jocba to come home, but the Master never did. When Olivia called him back into the home, someone came up behind him and hit him on the back of the head. The last thing he heard and saw was Olivia screaming and Jociva trying to run away from the home as men stepped over his body. His Mistress and her daughter was killed. By the time his Master and he stood before the Hold Lord, it seemed that the men that beat and murdered Jociva and Olivia walked away clean and clear. It wasn't long after that that Jocba went to Iskalor and released him from his slavery. Before Iskalor could really figure out what was happening, Jocba was standing before the Hold Lord once more and he was being sentenced to the stake for taking matters into his own hands. In just a few days, Iskalor lost all the people he considered his family.
A fortnight later found him staying with a fishing family and their two sons; Michah and Michjan. Michah had happened upon Iskalor roaming the streets and brought him home to rest after speaking with him for a sevenday. He didn't stay with them for long, in fact, he wasn't with them for more than a couple of days, due to a Rider and dragon that happened to pass through the small Hold. He was Searched at sixteen and taken to Darkened Weyr, where he has been for the past two Turns.
Who Are Your Companions?!?
NAME| Dragon/Wher Name (Dragon: th, Wher: sk)
AGE| Years only
PARENTS| Who are the parents of companion
COLOR| [*color=]Hex code #####[/color*] (If candidate, you put your preferred colors here)
PERSONALITY| A paragraph or more
DESCRIPTION| What does your dragon/wher look like?
RIDERRANK| What rank is the dragons rider?
Who's Behind That Mask?!?
YOURNAME| Grave
YOURAGE| 23
RPEXPIERENCE| 10 years
WHYAREYOUHERE| Your ad on my site -- Kras Weyr
RPEXAMPLE|
It was dark, the night air closing in from every angle. Iskalor could see the fires from the Crafthall were still going, which could only mean that his Master was still working. On what, he didn't know, but he figured it was another present for his Mistress. As if by memory alone, Iskalor reached down to the black leather wrist gauntlet that his Master had made for him . . . claiming him as a slave.
"Iskalor . . . Come inside . . . Your Master won't be coming home tonight," he heard, causing him to turn to see his Mistress and her daughter sitting at the table within their small hut within the Hold. He hadn't been born to a slave's life, but it seemed that hard times had befallen his bloodmother and father and here he stood, a slave for nearly all of his sixteen Turns.
As he turned to look at his Mistress, he felt a wind at his back. Before he had a chance to turn, he felt something hit him in the back of the neck and he fell forward, but not before he saw the horrified faces of his Mistress and her daughter. He crumpled to the ground, kicked in the ribs, and rolled onto his back. Above him, stood a disgusting male, his face disfigured, a patch over his eye and several teeth missing. Even as the edges of his world went black, Iskalor tried to get up, tried to move his feet, his hands, his head. ANYTHING! Anything had to move, but nothing did. He could hear his Mistress screaming, telling her daughter to run, telling her to get help. She was even screaming his name. They weren't a bad family, in fact, he could have ended up a lot worse, but he had been lucky in the sense his Master had been kind. . . . But when it mattered most, . . . Iskalor . . . couldn't . . . move.
"Wake up, man! You're trying to beat the crap out of Michah!" Iskalor heard, feeling hands on him and waking without thinking. His fists were raised, feet poised to kick whoever was on top of him off, but all he found was the frightened face of a slightly younger male. It was Michjan, a son of a fisherman and brother to a fiend of his, Michah. Michah lay curled up at the head of the cot, blood running from a split lip. "Michah," Iskalor whispered, eyes wide, mind still racing with the mental images of his past Mistress' dead eyes when he woke and found both ladies had been taken advantage of and beaten to death. The men that had done the horrible crime were found, but they walked due to the corrupt Hold Lord. His Master was so distraught that he tried to punish the men himself, but the Hold Lord had him put to the stake instead of the criminals.
Michah didn't turn from him, neither did Michjan. Instead, both young men moved closer and placed kind hands on Iskalor's hard shoulders. They were friends, closet people he had to family, and they wouldn't abandon him. The thought brought tears to his eyes, but he pushed the feelings away, far far away. He couldn't afford it, he couldn't forget. He wouldn't. He had to better himself, for his past Master and his Mistress. They deserved justice, and Iskalor would give it to him.
"Iskalor . . . Come inside . . . Your Master won't be coming home tonight," he heard, causing him to turn to see his Mistress and her daughter sitting at the table within their small hut within the Hold. He hadn't been born to a slave's life, but it seemed that hard times had befallen his bloodmother and father and here he stood, a slave for nearly all of his sixteen Turns.
As he turned to look at his Mistress, he felt a wind at his back. Before he had a chance to turn, he felt something hit him in the back of the neck and he fell forward, but not before he saw the horrified faces of his Mistress and her daughter. He crumpled to the ground, kicked in the ribs, and rolled onto his back. Above him, stood a disgusting male, his face disfigured, a patch over his eye and several teeth missing. Even as the edges of his world went black, Iskalor tried to get up, tried to move his feet, his hands, his head. ANYTHING! Anything had to move, but nothing did. He could hear his Mistress screaming, telling her daughter to run, telling her to get help. She was even screaming his name. They weren't a bad family, in fact, he could have ended up a lot worse, but he had been lucky in the sense his Master had been kind. . . . But when it mattered most, . . . Iskalor . . . couldn't . . . move.
"Wake up, man! You're trying to beat the crap out of Michah!" Iskalor heard, feeling hands on him and waking without thinking. His fists were raised, feet poised to kick whoever was on top of him off, but all he found was the frightened face of a slightly younger male. It was Michjan, a son of a fisherman and brother to a fiend of his, Michah. Michah lay curled up at the head of the cot, blood running from a split lip. "Michah," Iskalor whispered, eyes wide, mind still racing with the mental images of his past Mistress' dead eyes when he woke and found both ladies had been taken advantage of and beaten to death. The men that had done the horrible crime were found, but they walked due to the corrupt Hold Lord. His Master was so distraught that he tried to punish the men himself, but the Hold Lord had him put to the stake instead of the criminals.
Michah didn't turn from him, neither did Michjan. Instead, both young men moved closer and placed kind hands on Iskalor's hard shoulders. They were friends, closet people he had to family, and they wouldn't abandon him. The thought brought tears to his eyes, but he pushed the feelings away, far far away. He couldn't afford it, he couldn't forget. He wouldn't. He had to better himself, for his past Master and his Mistress. They deserved justice, and Iskalor would give it to him.
Made by Flame of RPG-Directory
