Post by Balian of Tiberium on Jul 22, 2010 4:52:05 GMT
Name: Balian of Tiberium; Champion of Aurelius; Balian Aurelius
Age: Thirty-Three
Sex: Male
Class: Low - Slave
Appearance: |MUSE - Russell Crowe|
Balian stands at a height of five-foot-and-eleven-inches, and weighs an even two-hundred pounds of pure muscle, and honed flesh earned by way of rigorous training. His age, and the test of time that has weathered him, has left the mark of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Despite that, Balian has eyes that belie his true age and makes him look somewhat younger of a dark, deep blue. Balian's hair, though, is darker by contrast of an ebony shade. Balian's utterly austere, though, and riddled with scars from his legs to his hands, arms and form as a whole.
Character: Steadfast.
It's the word that comes to mind when one thinks of Balian. He's a steadfast beast of a man that has a heart that knows no bounds. There's no question to whom his loyalty lays with, and truth be told, Balian would never, ever, be tempted for anything more; after all, why bite the hand that feeds him? Yet, that was the youth, and now Balian's a true man that's seasoned by time, and has sampled enough to know that there's more beyond the constraints that Augustus has laid upon him.
Like any man, Balian dreams of a better tomorrow. The venture to Camelot was a promise of a new future, or so Augustus had told him. Yet, things were not as they seemed the moment they had arrived within Augustus' holdings within the capital. In fact, Balian had been disappointed for seemingly the first time within his life. Nonetheless, Balian continues to dream and hope for a better tomorrow where he could roam as he pleases.
Despite Balian's dreams, though, and his steadfast loyalty, Balian's a man that could be rather overprotective. Despite the fact that Augustus has failed to keep a number of promises, the man had fed and clothed him, and assured a warm bed for him to sleep in. Anyone wishing to deal Augustus harm would be met by Balian's volatile nature and dealt with by way of a quick fashion.
Despite Balian's rough ways, there's much more to him than what meets the eye. In fact, Balian's an intelligent man and one that could seemingly learn anything given the time. Although Augustus Aurelius may not have invested in Balian learning to read and write, there's no doubt that the man could learn given a proper tutor. Nonetheless, anything of the physical sort, Balian shines to quite well enough and excels at. That, and works proper under hard labor without complaint or a hitch.
Strengths and Weaknesses:
STRENGTHS
WEAKNESSES
Magic: None
Weaponry Skills:
{*Shield could be used offensively by Balian}
Character History: Tiberium, an ancient and crumbling city weathered by the wind from the nearby sea, has withstood the weight of violence and the clash of cultures throughout the centuries. It has stood as a testament to time and stubborn tradition, and still lingers ruled by the iron grip of a pure line of royalty. That, and defended by Tiberium's renown war machine. Nonetheless, this tale's not about Tiberium, but about the unwanted git of a slave born within the slave market of Tiberium itself.
Born of the unwanted congress between a slave woman and guard, Balian was brought into the world on a day like any other. It smelled rank of piss, sweat and blood, and of sizzling flesh from the branding station nearby. His cries were drowned out by that of the groaning and whimpering of slaves; many of different stock and ethnicity.
It was here where Balian was found by one Augustus Aurelius; a man known for grooming men toward the art of battle. Yet, never had he entertained the thought of fetching one so...young! The moment he had seen the boy, Augustus' mind had gone wild with the notion of raising the child to be an apt pupil of the art of battle from youth; to treat the boy as one would a valuable racehorse.
So, Augustus had the child torn from the mother's arms against her protests, and took the boy to his domus to be tended properly and raised as a proper boy should. It was by his tenth summer when the boy had begun to undergo the rigorous training that all of Augustus' pitfighters did.
It would be all Balian would know.
Looked upon fondly by the more seasoned men, Balian was tolerated and taught with patience until he had begun to grasp the art and finesse of battle. It came quickly to Balian, and soon enough, there was no doubt that he was a prodigy when it came to fighting. Nonetheless, Balian was treated well and wanted for nothing beyond food, clothing and a warm bed. At least not until the moment he had first set foot upon the sands of the arena where he shed blood for coin and honor.
Yet, one could make enemies easily within Tiberium, and Augustus knew that. Despite clinging to Balian's string of consecutive wins, Augustus knew when to quit while he was ahead, and sought a breath of fresh air, and a new venue, even. It's what brought Augustus to Camelot with only the cream of his crop; three able bodied men, and one being Balian.
It's within Camelot that Augustus Aurelius seeks to make his coin and living, and within the slums, at that. With the guise of an aristocratic and eccentric trader, Augustus hides the art he had perfected within Tiberium amidst the hustle and bustle of the Camelot's day to day life. As for Balian himself...well, anything may happen.
Freedom is only a step away.
Additional Information: Due to having no relations with his biological mother or father, Balian has no knowledge of his surname or lineage. Instead, Balian's dubbed his master's champion and will go under his master's surname if one's needed, or named after the city in which he was born -- Balian Aurelius, or Balian of Tiberium from which he hails from.
Also, I wasn't certain how slaves would be taken in the realm, but I hope I could use Balian here. If not, I'll certainly make a new character and wouldn't mind whatsoever. Or maybe even meld him toward being a solder in the military instead of a slave.
Sample Roleplay:
"Every man has a price, Joscelin; from coin to that of blood. There are things men will do to one another that's sobering to the soul. There will always be a way to persuade another to what you wish for. You must learn when to use your tools of the mind. Then when all else fails exhaust that of the physical. Sometimes, Joscelin, you must do things that you would otherwise not wish to. It's for the better of the world as a whole. I trust you will be discreet in your dealings. I trust that you will not muss up what you must do when you hear the clarion call of duty."
The words echo through eternity and settle deep within the depths of his mind. It's a memory that continues to haunt him even to this day. Regret. It's the word that comes to mind but refuses to flit from the swell of his tongue feeling like leather. That first kill had been the catalyst of all that happened thereafter. It had been what solidified him as the spy and diplomatic assassin he had become; the shade of Trevalion.
With honed wit and knowledge; charm and clever tongue, even. Joscelin had cut a swath within court as able diplomat between nations and a lover of foreign female nobility. He had become somewhat of what the bards sing of and write of. He had become what most men wanted to be. He had become a man who could saunter the halls of foreign palaces and bed the gossamer haired beauties that commanded poems. He stood beside royalty as overseer and fought beside barbarians; bartered with them, even.
He knew foreign tongues and variations of pidgin; the trader's common tongue. He knew songs belonging to other nations and history beyond one's imagining. He had spoken with the oldest known civilizations and had studied under the most devout of scholars. He had, had, had...
Now he's here within Camelot's keep; hands clasped before his mouth and fingers laced. His thumbs brush against the purse of his mouth as brows knit. His hands shift and fingers work the weariness from his eyes. How long had he been up? Far too long. The missives garnered from his web of intrigue had already been burned within the hearth. All the while the flames clamber for fuel and alight the walls of the library with a sobering dance of life and destruction.
How much longer could he live this life? He's unsure, truly. Yet, he never had a reason to stop. He never met a person who had given him much reason to settle. He couldn't. He had an appetite for the finer things; for gala events and wine, and even women. He had an appetite for all sorts of knowledge, too. Now, though...It may be the first time he had been sent to another nation to assure the livelihood of a budding country coming to the forefront of power.
He comes to his feet from the table set across from the hearth. With that he leaves the library without a hitch and allows the door to shut behind him. He wore little beyond his leathers then; trousers, high boots and a silk shirt undone at the collar to bare his chest and sleeves curled to his elbows. He wanders the halls then; seeking a semblance of solace as his mind works.
What could a lordling do at such a time?
Oh, blessed night...
[Optional] OOC Section:
Name: Andre
Location: EST Time Zone; United States, New York.
How long have you been RPing for: Several Years
Any other characters on the site?:Joscelin William Trevalion
Age: Thirty-Three
Sex: Male
Class: Low - Slave
Appearance: |MUSE - Russell Crowe|
Balian stands at a height of five-foot-and-eleven-inches, and weighs an even two-hundred pounds of pure muscle, and honed flesh earned by way of rigorous training. His age, and the test of time that has weathered him, has left the mark of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Despite that, Balian has eyes that belie his true age and makes him look somewhat younger of a dark, deep blue. Balian's hair, though, is darker by contrast of an ebony shade. Balian's utterly austere, though, and riddled with scars from his legs to his hands, arms and form as a whole.
Character: Steadfast.
It's the word that comes to mind when one thinks of Balian. He's a steadfast beast of a man that has a heart that knows no bounds. There's no question to whom his loyalty lays with, and truth be told, Balian would never, ever, be tempted for anything more; after all, why bite the hand that feeds him? Yet, that was the youth, and now Balian's a true man that's seasoned by time, and has sampled enough to know that there's more beyond the constraints that Augustus has laid upon him.
Like any man, Balian dreams of a better tomorrow. The venture to Camelot was a promise of a new future, or so Augustus had told him. Yet, things were not as they seemed the moment they had arrived within Augustus' holdings within the capital. In fact, Balian had been disappointed for seemingly the first time within his life. Nonetheless, Balian continues to dream and hope for a better tomorrow where he could roam as he pleases.
Despite Balian's dreams, though, and his steadfast loyalty, Balian's a man that could be rather overprotective. Despite the fact that Augustus has failed to keep a number of promises, the man had fed and clothed him, and assured a warm bed for him to sleep in. Anyone wishing to deal Augustus harm would be met by Balian's volatile nature and dealt with by way of a quick fashion.
Despite Balian's rough ways, there's much more to him than what meets the eye. In fact, Balian's an intelligent man and one that could seemingly learn anything given the time. Although Augustus Aurelius may not have invested in Balian learning to read and write, there's no doubt that the man could learn given a proper tutor. Nonetheless, anything of the physical sort, Balian shines to quite well enough and excels at. That, and works proper under hard labor without complaint or a hitch.
Strengths and Weaknesses:
STRENGTHS
- Loyal
- Physically Strong
- Seasoned Fighter
- Intelligent
- Steadfast
WEAKNESSES
- Unable to Read
- Unable to Write
- Over Protective
- Volatile
- Hungers for More
Magic: None
Weaponry Skills:
- Masterful Grappling Ability
- Fisticuffs
- Swordsmanship
- Shield*
{*Shield could be used offensively by Balian}
Character History: Tiberium, an ancient and crumbling city weathered by the wind from the nearby sea, has withstood the weight of violence and the clash of cultures throughout the centuries. It has stood as a testament to time and stubborn tradition, and still lingers ruled by the iron grip of a pure line of royalty. That, and defended by Tiberium's renown war machine. Nonetheless, this tale's not about Tiberium, but about the unwanted git of a slave born within the slave market of Tiberium itself.
Born of the unwanted congress between a slave woman and guard, Balian was brought into the world on a day like any other. It smelled rank of piss, sweat and blood, and of sizzling flesh from the branding station nearby. His cries were drowned out by that of the groaning and whimpering of slaves; many of different stock and ethnicity.
It was here where Balian was found by one Augustus Aurelius; a man known for grooming men toward the art of battle. Yet, never had he entertained the thought of fetching one so...young! The moment he had seen the boy, Augustus' mind had gone wild with the notion of raising the child to be an apt pupil of the art of battle from youth; to treat the boy as one would a valuable racehorse.
So, Augustus had the child torn from the mother's arms against her protests, and took the boy to his domus to be tended properly and raised as a proper boy should. It was by his tenth summer when the boy had begun to undergo the rigorous training that all of Augustus' pitfighters did.
It would be all Balian would know.
Looked upon fondly by the more seasoned men, Balian was tolerated and taught with patience until he had begun to grasp the art and finesse of battle. It came quickly to Balian, and soon enough, there was no doubt that he was a prodigy when it came to fighting. Nonetheless, Balian was treated well and wanted for nothing beyond food, clothing and a warm bed. At least not until the moment he had first set foot upon the sands of the arena where he shed blood for coin and honor.
Yet, one could make enemies easily within Tiberium, and Augustus knew that. Despite clinging to Balian's string of consecutive wins, Augustus knew when to quit while he was ahead, and sought a breath of fresh air, and a new venue, even. It's what brought Augustus to Camelot with only the cream of his crop; three able bodied men, and one being Balian.
It's within Camelot that Augustus Aurelius seeks to make his coin and living, and within the slums, at that. With the guise of an aristocratic and eccentric trader, Augustus hides the art he had perfected within Tiberium amidst the hustle and bustle of the Camelot's day to day life. As for Balian himself...well, anything may happen.
Freedom is only a step away.
Additional Information: Due to having no relations with his biological mother or father, Balian has no knowledge of his surname or lineage. Instead, Balian's dubbed his master's champion and will go under his master's surname if one's needed, or named after the city in which he was born -- Balian Aurelius, or Balian of Tiberium from which he hails from.
Also, I wasn't certain how slaves would be taken in the realm, but I hope I could use Balian here. If not, I'll certainly make a new character and wouldn't mind whatsoever. Or maybe even meld him toward being a solder in the military instead of a slave.
Sample Roleplay:
"Every man has a price, Joscelin; from coin to that of blood. There are things men will do to one another that's sobering to the soul. There will always be a way to persuade another to what you wish for. You must learn when to use your tools of the mind. Then when all else fails exhaust that of the physical. Sometimes, Joscelin, you must do things that you would otherwise not wish to. It's for the better of the world as a whole. I trust you will be discreet in your dealings. I trust that you will not muss up what you must do when you hear the clarion call of duty."
The words echo through eternity and settle deep within the depths of his mind. It's a memory that continues to haunt him even to this day. Regret. It's the word that comes to mind but refuses to flit from the swell of his tongue feeling like leather. That first kill had been the catalyst of all that happened thereafter. It had been what solidified him as the spy and diplomatic assassin he had become; the shade of Trevalion.
With honed wit and knowledge; charm and clever tongue, even. Joscelin had cut a swath within court as able diplomat between nations and a lover of foreign female nobility. He had become somewhat of what the bards sing of and write of. He had become what most men wanted to be. He had become a man who could saunter the halls of foreign palaces and bed the gossamer haired beauties that commanded poems. He stood beside royalty as overseer and fought beside barbarians; bartered with them, even.
He knew foreign tongues and variations of pidgin; the trader's common tongue. He knew songs belonging to other nations and history beyond one's imagining. He had spoken with the oldest known civilizations and had studied under the most devout of scholars. He had, had, had...
Now he's here within Camelot's keep; hands clasped before his mouth and fingers laced. His thumbs brush against the purse of his mouth as brows knit. His hands shift and fingers work the weariness from his eyes. How long had he been up? Far too long. The missives garnered from his web of intrigue had already been burned within the hearth. All the while the flames clamber for fuel and alight the walls of the library with a sobering dance of life and destruction.
How much longer could he live this life? He's unsure, truly. Yet, he never had a reason to stop. He never met a person who had given him much reason to settle. He couldn't. He had an appetite for the finer things; for gala events and wine, and even women. He had an appetite for all sorts of knowledge, too. Now, though...It may be the first time he had been sent to another nation to assure the livelihood of a budding country coming to the forefront of power.
He comes to his feet from the table set across from the hearth. With that he leaves the library without a hitch and allows the door to shut behind him. He wore little beyond his leathers then; trousers, high boots and a silk shirt undone at the collar to bare his chest and sleeves curled to his elbows. He wanders the halls then; seeking a semblance of solace as his mind works.
What could a lordling do at such a time?
Oh, blessed night...
[Optional] OOC Section:
Name: Andre
Location: EST Time Zone; United States, New York.
How long have you been RPing for: Several Years
Any other characters on the site?:Joscelin William Trevalion
