Post by Jared Tempest on Dec 26, 2009 13:27:10 GMT
Name: Jared Tempest
Age: 17
Sex: Male
Class: Citizen
Appearance:
Standing at six feet in height, with a toned and athletic body conditioned by a life of labour and free-running, Jared bears the piercing cerulean eyes of his mother and unruly brown hair of his father. His skin, naturally a relatively pale white, has taken on a light tan shade from the time he spends outdoors.
The majority of his wardrobe consists of muted shades of black and brown, the former being his favourite colour because it seems to go well with any other. His usual attire consists of a black shirt and pants, a wide brown leather belt, a brown hooded mantle and a pair of rugged brown leather boots. His belt is adorned with an intricate metal buckle that used to belong to his father, and also bears a scabbard for his knife and a number of small pouches for money and the like.
Character:
A chivalrous and agreeable person, Jared cares little for the opinions of people whose lives do not influence his own. He is remarkably open-minded, without much regard for society’s norms or conventions, and is as likely to make conversation with the wenches and thieves in Camelot’s slums as with Albion’s nobility. To him, rank and social status are of no concern; all that matters when forming an opinion of someone is what they’re like as a person. Few people - if any - share this open way of thinking, and therefore do not understand him; but then again, he couldn’t care less what those people think of him.
However, this ease of character hides a number of insecurities. Polite as he is, Jared suffers from a general lack of social skills and is actually rather shy. He becomes withdrawn around new people - especially girls - sometimes to the point where he struggles to hold a conversation. Nonetheless, if one was to gain his trust one would find a very close friend in Jared.
Strengths and Weaknesses:
+ Open-minded and intelligent
+ Able to read and write
+ Great level of physical fitness for his age
+ Growing proficiency with his knife
+ Strong sense of justice and chivalry
- No magical capability
- Quick to anger
- Often gets into trouble because of that anger
- Lacking in social skills
- Shy around new people
Magic: N/A
Weaponry Skills:
* Pragmatic; he’s what one would call a dirty fighter
* Good hand-to-hand combatant
* Little prowess with his knife, but he’s learning quickly
* An arsenal of dirty tricks reinforces his fighting skills
Character History:
Born in a wealthy port town, the only child of a trader, Isaac, and his wife, Emilia, Jared Tempest was brought up with the expectation that he would follow in his father’s footsteps; firstly by joining the crew of his ship, the Tempest Runner. Isaac’s line of work was quite lucrative, for he dealt in the finest of foreign spices and materials. His crew were loyal and experienced, and his ship was fast and beautiful. The financial stability offered by these circumstances helped Jared’s parents provide for him, primarily with a good education; nothing prestigious, but he developed a high degree of capability at reading and writing.
Still, however willingly he accepted the necessity for a decent education if he was to become a trader of his father’s calibre, his thoughts were almost always upon a pastime that was truly unique to him; free-running. Most of Jared’s free time would be spent in the woods, climbing trees and challenging himself to move from one to another without touching the ground. The forests near his home were a good place to practice, for the shapes of the trees created a number of free-running sequences of varying difficulty. Jared would test himself by keeping track of the time he took to complete each sequence, then practicing until he was able to beat that time. Over the years he discovered and mastered countless sequences across the forest, some of which took him close to the top of the canopy. Even the occasional fall - and accompanying injury, from simple bruises to a broken arm - did not deter him from a hobby for which he had a great deal of passion.
Tragically, come the boy’s sixteenth birthday, a few months before he was due for his first voyage as part of Isaac’s crew, the hopes that he’d follow in his father’s footsteps were dashed. Another trading vessel, the captain of which was a close friend of the Tempest family, arrived in port after an almost disastrous voyage. The ship had been sailing with Isaac’s, since they shared the same destination, when a vicious storm roared into being. The Tempest Runner had been swamped by the waves, and unable to get out of the storm, she was eventually sunk by nature’s rage when she started taking on huge amounts of bilge from a large hull breach. The second ship, its captain making the good call of changing course to move with the wind, had barely escaped the same fate; convinced that none of the Tempest Runner’s crew had survived, and not daring to go back and find out lest his ship be destroyed as well, the captain had no choice but to make the heart-rending decision to keep going.
Jared and Emilia were heartbroken; neither had anticipated that something like this would happen - or at least, hadn’t wanted to. With the family’s bread-winner dead, the two realised they would have to go somewhere else and find ways of supporting themselves. Emilia suggested Camelot; seeing no comparable alternative, and realising that he may yet find a career in the form of the Royal Army, Jared agreed. The captain, a dear friend, helped them pack their belongings and travel to the great city of Camelot. Once they’d settled down, Emilia secured a job in a local bakery, her bright demeanour and cooking prowess landing her the post with relative ease. Jared, with his mother’s blessing, bought a well-crafted knife from a nearby blacksmith, his eyes and heart set now upon the Army.
Additional Information:
Shirt
Pants
Mantle
Belt
Boots
Knife
Sample Roleplay: [ Taken from a thread at this site ]
OOC Section
Name: Ross
Location: United Kingdom
How long have you been RPing for: 4+ years; I lost track ages ago
Any other characters on the site?: None
Age: 17
Sex: Male
Class: Citizen
Appearance:
Standing at six feet in height, with a toned and athletic body conditioned by a life of labour and free-running, Jared bears the piercing cerulean eyes of his mother and unruly brown hair of his father. His skin, naturally a relatively pale white, has taken on a light tan shade from the time he spends outdoors.
The majority of his wardrobe consists of muted shades of black and brown, the former being his favourite colour because it seems to go well with any other. His usual attire consists of a black shirt and pants, a wide brown leather belt, a brown hooded mantle and a pair of rugged brown leather boots. His belt is adorned with an intricate metal buckle that used to belong to his father, and also bears a scabbard for his knife and a number of small pouches for money and the like.
Character:
A chivalrous and agreeable person, Jared cares little for the opinions of people whose lives do not influence his own. He is remarkably open-minded, without much regard for society’s norms or conventions, and is as likely to make conversation with the wenches and thieves in Camelot’s slums as with Albion’s nobility. To him, rank and social status are of no concern; all that matters when forming an opinion of someone is what they’re like as a person. Few people - if any - share this open way of thinking, and therefore do not understand him; but then again, he couldn’t care less what those people think of him.
However, this ease of character hides a number of insecurities. Polite as he is, Jared suffers from a general lack of social skills and is actually rather shy. He becomes withdrawn around new people - especially girls - sometimes to the point where he struggles to hold a conversation. Nonetheless, if one was to gain his trust one would find a very close friend in Jared.
Strengths and Weaknesses:
+ Open-minded and intelligent
+ Able to read and write
+ Great level of physical fitness for his age
+ Growing proficiency with his knife
+ Strong sense of justice and chivalry
- No magical capability
- Quick to anger
- Often gets into trouble because of that anger
- Lacking in social skills
- Shy around new people
Magic: N/A
Weaponry Skills:
* Pragmatic; he’s what one would call a dirty fighter
* Good hand-to-hand combatant
* Little prowess with his knife, but he’s learning quickly
* An arsenal of dirty tricks reinforces his fighting skills
Character History:
Born in a wealthy port town, the only child of a trader, Isaac, and his wife, Emilia, Jared Tempest was brought up with the expectation that he would follow in his father’s footsteps; firstly by joining the crew of his ship, the Tempest Runner. Isaac’s line of work was quite lucrative, for he dealt in the finest of foreign spices and materials. His crew were loyal and experienced, and his ship was fast and beautiful. The financial stability offered by these circumstances helped Jared’s parents provide for him, primarily with a good education; nothing prestigious, but he developed a high degree of capability at reading and writing.
Still, however willingly he accepted the necessity for a decent education if he was to become a trader of his father’s calibre, his thoughts were almost always upon a pastime that was truly unique to him; free-running. Most of Jared’s free time would be spent in the woods, climbing trees and challenging himself to move from one to another without touching the ground. The forests near his home were a good place to practice, for the shapes of the trees created a number of free-running sequences of varying difficulty. Jared would test himself by keeping track of the time he took to complete each sequence, then practicing until he was able to beat that time. Over the years he discovered and mastered countless sequences across the forest, some of which took him close to the top of the canopy. Even the occasional fall - and accompanying injury, from simple bruises to a broken arm - did not deter him from a hobby for which he had a great deal of passion.
Tragically, come the boy’s sixteenth birthday, a few months before he was due for his first voyage as part of Isaac’s crew, the hopes that he’d follow in his father’s footsteps were dashed. Another trading vessel, the captain of which was a close friend of the Tempest family, arrived in port after an almost disastrous voyage. The ship had been sailing with Isaac’s, since they shared the same destination, when a vicious storm roared into being. The Tempest Runner had been swamped by the waves, and unable to get out of the storm, she was eventually sunk by nature’s rage when she started taking on huge amounts of bilge from a large hull breach. The second ship, its captain making the good call of changing course to move with the wind, had barely escaped the same fate; convinced that none of the Tempest Runner’s crew had survived, and not daring to go back and find out lest his ship be destroyed as well, the captain had no choice but to make the heart-rending decision to keep going.
Jared and Emilia were heartbroken; neither had anticipated that something like this would happen - or at least, hadn’t wanted to. With the family’s bread-winner dead, the two realised they would have to go somewhere else and find ways of supporting themselves. Emilia suggested Camelot; seeing no comparable alternative, and realising that he may yet find a career in the form of the Royal Army, Jared agreed. The captain, a dear friend, helped them pack their belongings and travel to the great city of Camelot. Once they’d settled down, Emilia secured a job in a local bakery, her bright demeanour and cooking prowess landing her the post with relative ease. Jared, with his mother’s blessing, bought a well-crafted knife from a nearby blacksmith, his eyes and heart set now upon the Army.
Additional Information:
Shirt
Pants
Mantle
Belt
Boots
Knife
Sample Roleplay: [ Taken from a thread at this site ]
Sparda needed only shift his weight onto one foot and lean to the side to evade the great wave of energy that thundered across what was left of Devil May Cry. Instead of going on the offensive once more, he took a moment to assess his opponent. The attacks of his allies were rather ineffectual, such was the quality of that armour; bar the earlier downward swing of Arix that had hacked off the demon's arm. But behind the armour, as if that wasn't a sufficiently comprehensive defence on its own, was a remarkably fast regeneration.
Long story short, this armoured general would be more trouble to kill than he was probably worth.
Yet his attacks, too, were as useless as those that assailed him. The wave of hellfire that roared from the great zanbato in his grasp was stopped dead by Sparda's demonic energies; a swirling cloud of violet and black smoke materialised across the room, smothering and extinguishing the flames before converging on the armour-clad demon. The mass of smoke seemed to seep into his armour, the otherworldly power of the Dark Knight attacking from within to compromise the suit's structure. If this worked, it should weaken considerably - perhaps enough to be broken.
But that task would fall to the others; this demon had allies outside, and they were wreaking all kinds of havoc on Sparda's hordes. He'd need to deal with them himself.
"I trust you three can deal with this irritation," he spoke suddenly. "I have an army and its leaders to demolish." With that, he reached into his coat with his off hand, drawing Ombra, and took aim at the armoured bug to give him a parting gift. He squeezed the trigger and was gone; vanishing completely and leaving nothing behind but an ear-splitting sonic boom and a charged demonic bullet with the force of a volley of naval shells screaming across the room towards the demon. If it didn't pierce his armour, its sheer kinetic force would at least put him through a few walls.
His next appearance would be outside, massacring the demonic soldiers that had accompanied his previous opponent. The grunts and officers saw him as little more than another demon to kill; they'd pay for that mistake with their lives as the Dark Knight danced among their ranks, swinging the great curved sword in his grasp with deadly grace and cutting down every soldier to cross his path. The death toll at his hands quickly reached the dozens as the legend slaughtered these simple cannon fodder.
All the while he exerted a little more of his demonic energies to further empower his demons; now with even greater strength, they kept fighting. The Death Scythes, in particular, were slaughtering the Abyss soldiers with ease; airborne and almost untouchable, they rampaged across the front lines, cleaving through scores of grunts and officers with their wicked scythes.
Within minutes his kill count had passed the two hundred mark, and Sparda hadn't even begun to get serious. But perhaps now he'd at least have a challenge; about twenty metres down the street stood a pair of armour-clad warriors, wielding swords and emanating powerful - wait, holy auras?! Could it be... Could there be fallen Angels among these ranks?
He shrugged off this question - they were enemies of Devil May Cry, and that was the only excuse he needed. Problem now was there were a good hundred grunts standing between the Dark Knight and these two generals. A quick Driver; a fleeting moment charging the phantom Sparda before unleashing a wave of purple demonic energy that tore through the grunts and cleared him a path; and that problem was solved.
The Dark Knight held his ground for now, the gap he'd made remaining empty as if the grunts knew his intentions. He was silent, for there was no need for words; he simply stared down the road towards these two armour-clad angels...
...And he smiled.
Long story short, this armoured general would be more trouble to kill than he was probably worth.
Yet his attacks, too, were as useless as those that assailed him. The wave of hellfire that roared from the great zanbato in his grasp was stopped dead by Sparda's demonic energies; a swirling cloud of violet and black smoke materialised across the room, smothering and extinguishing the flames before converging on the armour-clad demon. The mass of smoke seemed to seep into his armour, the otherworldly power of the Dark Knight attacking from within to compromise the suit's structure. If this worked, it should weaken considerably - perhaps enough to be broken.
But that task would fall to the others; this demon had allies outside, and they were wreaking all kinds of havoc on Sparda's hordes. He'd need to deal with them himself.
"I trust you three can deal with this irritation," he spoke suddenly. "I have an army and its leaders to demolish." With that, he reached into his coat with his off hand, drawing Ombra, and took aim at the armoured bug to give him a parting gift. He squeezed the trigger and was gone; vanishing completely and leaving nothing behind but an ear-splitting sonic boom and a charged demonic bullet with the force of a volley of naval shells screaming across the room towards the demon. If it didn't pierce his armour, its sheer kinetic force would at least put him through a few walls.
His next appearance would be outside, massacring the demonic soldiers that had accompanied his previous opponent. The grunts and officers saw him as little more than another demon to kill; they'd pay for that mistake with their lives as the Dark Knight danced among their ranks, swinging the great curved sword in his grasp with deadly grace and cutting down every soldier to cross his path. The death toll at his hands quickly reached the dozens as the legend slaughtered these simple cannon fodder.
All the while he exerted a little more of his demonic energies to further empower his demons; now with even greater strength, they kept fighting. The Death Scythes, in particular, were slaughtering the Abyss soldiers with ease; airborne and almost untouchable, they rampaged across the front lines, cleaving through scores of grunts and officers with their wicked scythes.
Within minutes his kill count had passed the two hundred mark, and Sparda hadn't even begun to get serious. But perhaps now he'd at least have a challenge; about twenty metres down the street stood a pair of armour-clad warriors, wielding swords and emanating powerful - wait, holy auras?! Could it be... Could there be fallen Angels among these ranks?
He shrugged off this question - they were enemies of Devil May Cry, and that was the only excuse he needed. Problem now was there were a good hundred grunts standing between the Dark Knight and these two generals. A quick Driver; a fleeting moment charging the phantom Sparda before unleashing a wave of purple demonic energy that tore through the grunts and cleared him a path; and that problem was solved.
The Dark Knight held his ground for now, the gap he'd made remaining empty as if the grunts knew his intentions. He was silent, for there was no need for words; he simply stared down the road towards these two armour-clad angels...
...And he smiled.
OOC Section
Name: Ross
Location: United Kingdom
How long have you been RPing for: 4+ years; I lost track ages ago
Any other characters on the site?: None
