Post by Archer Cadby on Mar 3, 2011 5:43:25 GMT
Name: Archer Cadby
Age: 21
Sex: Male
Class: Servant (stable hand)
Appearance: Shaggy, wavy brown hair reaches down to just barely cover a large, prominent set of ears. If Archer's hair is cut too short, those ears stick out like an elephant's. A mole occupies his left jaw, a trait that embarrasses him on occasion. With a crooked nose and dimpled chin, he isn't a sight that would woo the ladies. They would simply say he was 'cute', and probably only because they wanted to be polite. His mouth is almost constantly twitched upward into a smile, and his eyes have never lost their childish twinkle. Archer is slim but broad-shouldered, and also on the shorter side. Very much so. He stands at 5'5", but he is surprisingly strong, something most people would overlook. Some would say he isn't cut out to tend to a horse bigger than a cart pony, but he can handle a battle horse almost as easily.
Face Claim - Jamie Bell
Character: Archer is a busy bee, always doing something. He is energetic and hyperactive, and often has trouble focusing on a task. Sometimes one will hear a typical 'Ooh, shiny thing,' escape his lips before he dashes off after something. He often plucks his shirt hem into a thread-bare state, and fidgets if he is required to be still. He is easily amused, and often bursts into laughter at something he thought of that happened weeks before.
He is a natural with animals, though mostly farm animals, and can calm a panicked horse with just a few words and a gentle hand. They seem to understand him and accept him, better than any human could. If he has troubles, he'll often simply sit with a dog, tell it what is on his mind, then find the solution. His smooth talent does not work with humans (especially women), and he can be easily described as the awkward lad who stays away and stays quiet. He does not know how to interact with others, and so prefers to not even try. If someone gave him a chance and was willing to over-look his random blurts, he would prove to be a great and humorous friend, and unerringly loyal.
Archer has a bit of a temper with two things - people making fun of his height, and people abusing animals. Having Archer angry at you is not a good thing. He may be small, but the force from that muscle behind a fist headed for some jerk's face would be enough to shut anyone up. Or should, in any case. He isn't great at fighting, and often, his temper only makes him seem like a fool. It is rare that he holds grudges.
A strange trait for Archer - he is very good at playing a lute, and often makes spare coin from sitting on street corners and playing.
Strengths and Weaknesses:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Magic: None
Weaponry Skills: He wouldn't know how to wield a broom, much less something sharp, and would more than likely end up stabbing himself with the broom... instead of the sharp sword.
Character History: Archer was an orphan on the streets of various towns for as long as he could remember. No one knew who his parents were, and it was simply assumed that he was just another mistake, another child that a perhaps young mother could not afford to keep. Using the pity of a few kind-hearted merchants, he traveled across the country and back several times in his young life. It was obvious from the start that he had a natural gift with animals, and so the merchants often requested for him to stay a time if they were traveling through bad lands. Archer learned many languages as his travels expanded, out to Gore, Mercia, and beyond.
He wasn't even supposed to be in the area when he first picked up a lute. He was 13, young and stupid, but after strumming a few strings, he forgot that he didn't belong anywhere near the merchant's wagon. When the merchant heard the soft strumming, he came over and looked down at Archer with one eyebrow raised. Instead of scolding the boy, he sat down on the ground with him and began to teach him. Archer was no where near a natural, but he wanted to learn because he enjoyed it. Wasn't that a good enough reason? It also gave him another source of income, a small one at the time, but it rapidly grew as his skills expanded.
It took a long time for him to realize that no, he didn't want to be a wandering bard/horse whisperer. He didn't want to meet people, befriend them for a week then leave them, never to be seen nor heard from again. He wanted to settle down, wanted a job he liked with a decent income and just to have a little fun. No family required. Friends optional. And so he returned to his home country, though not to his hometown. He went to Camelot, with hardly a penny to his name, with only an old bay gelding and a thrice-time second-hand lute.
Additional Information:
Sample Roleplay: This is a post from my site Ever Changing Spirits. Most of my posts are 400-700 words.
[Optional] OOC Section:
Name: Sammi
Location: USA
How long have you been RPing for: My, my, has to be three years now. Simply has to be.
Any other characters on the site?: Nope.
Age: 21
Sex: Male
Class: Servant (stable hand)
Appearance: Shaggy, wavy brown hair reaches down to just barely cover a large, prominent set of ears. If Archer's hair is cut too short, those ears stick out like an elephant's. A mole occupies his left jaw, a trait that embarrasses him on occasion. With a crooked nose and dimpled chin, he isn't a sight that would woo the ladies. They would simply say he was 'cute', and probably only because they wanted to be polite. His mouth is almost constantly twitched upward into a smile, and his eyes have never lost their childish twinkle. Archer is slim but broad-shouldered, and also on the shorter side. Very much so. He stands at 5'5", but he is surprisingly strong, something most people would overlook. Some would say he isn't cut out to tend to a horse bigger than a cart pony, but he can handle a battle horse almost as easily.
Face Claim - Jamie Bell
Character: Archer is a busy bee, always doing something. He is energetic and hyperactive, and often has trouble focusing on a task. Sometimes one will hear a typical 'Ooh, shiny thing,' escape his lips before he dashes off after something. He often plucks his shirt hem into a thread-bare state, and fidgets if he is required to be still. He is easily amused, and often bursts into laughter at something he thought of that happened weeks before.
He is a natural with animals, though mostly farm animals, and can calm a panicked horse with just a few words and a gentle hand. They seem to understand him and accept him, better than any human could. If he has troubles, he'll often simply sit with a dog, tell it what is on his mind, then find the solution. His smooth talent does not work with humans (especially women), and he can be easily described as the awkward lad who stays away and stays quiet. He does not know how to interact with others, and so prefers to not even try. If someone gave him a chance and was willing to over-look his random blurts, he would prove to be a great and humorous friend, and unerringly loyal.
Archer has a bit of a temper with two things - people making fun of his height, and people abusing animals. Having Archer angry at you is not a good thing. He may be small, but the force from that muscle behind a fist headed for some jerk's face would be enough to shut anyone up. Or should, in any case. He isn't great at fighting, and often, his temper only makes him seem like a fool. It is rare that he holds grudges.
A strange trait for Archer - he is very good at playing a lute, and often makes spare coin from sitting on street corners and playing.
Strengths and Weaknesses:
Strengths:
- Good with animals
- Talented musician and singer
- Physically strong
- Loyal
- Forgiving
Weaknesses:
- Easily distracted
- Forgetful
- Socially awkward
- Clumsy
- Trusts too easily
- Temperamental
Magic: None
Weaponry Skills: He wouldn't know how to wield a broom, much less something sharp, and would more than likely end up stabbing himself with the broom... instead of the sharp sword.
Character History: Archer was an orphan on the streets of various towns for as long as he could remember. No one knew who his parents were, and it was simply assumed that he was just another mistake, another child that a perhaps young mother could not afford to keep. Using the pity of a few kind-hearted merchants, he traveled across the country and back several times in his young life. It was obvious from the start that he had a natural gift with animals, and so the merchants often requested for him to stay a time if they were traveling through bad lands. Archer learned many languages as his travels expanded, out to Gore, Mercia, and beyond.
He wasn't even supposed to be in the area when he first picked up a lute. He was 13, young and stupid, but after strumming a few strings, he forgot that he didn't belong anywhere near the merchant's wagon. When the merchant heard the soft strumming, he came over and looked down at Archer with one eyebrow raised. Instead of scolding the boy, he sat down on the ground with him and began to teach him. Archer was no where near a natural, but he wanted to learn because he enjoyed it. Wasn't that a good enough reason? It also gave him another source of income, a small one at the time, but it rapidly grew as his skills expanded.
It took a long time for him to realize that no, he didn't want to be a wandering bard/horse whisperer. He didn't want to meet people, befriend them for a week then leave them, never to be seen nor heard from again. He wanted to settle down, wanted a job he liked with a decent income and just to have a little fun. No family required. Friends optional. And so he returned to his home country, though not to his hometown. He went to Camelot, with hardly a penny to his name, with only an old bay gelding and a thrice-time second-hand lute.
Additional Information:
Sample Roleplay: This is a post from my site Ever Changing Spirits. Most of my posts are 400-700 words.
Things were looking well. The ruins were beautiful, the sunlight superb. As for wind, there was none. No one else was in sight as Vaughn approached the ruins. Under one arm was a square case, a larger but thinner version of a briefcase, on his back was a backpack, and under the other arm was a folded-up wooden stand. It was easy to walk there, but not so easy to climb over tumbles of rock to get to what he wanted to paint - the sun peeking over the main part of the ruins. Vaughn ended up skinning his knees and dropping the stand three times before he got there. He didn't mind the sting of the gravel in his skin; he brushed it off and left what he couldn't get at that moment. When he got something in his mind, he never left it alone.
With a soundless sigh and a glance around, he set his things on the ground, set up the stand, and unclipped the case. Pulling out a wooden frame with canvas stretched across it, he placed it carefully on the frame and glanced at what he was about to take from real life and put onto the canvas. Opening the backpack, he pulled out a pastel and several brushes. After fixing up the pastel to where it had the colors he would need on it, he took a few long, experimental strokes on the canvas, more to loosen up his fingers and wrist than anything. He was smiling when he started painting for real, glancing only occasionally at what he was actually painting. His photographic memory was more reliable than what he could see with his eyes. The sun was rising rapidly; it was early morning, six-thirty according to his estimates. He'd left his apartment at six. The sun rose quickly, no matter what time of year it was, but it rose earlier in the summer than in the winter. It was already higher than it had been when he'd started out, even though he'd been painting for...
The time had gotten away from him. He'd been standing there for a good two hours, and most of the picture was finished. He wasn't going to get distracted, but it was hard once he realized that blood was seeping down his leg into his sock from where he'd skinned his knees. I knew I should have worn some jeans instead of these shorts. His brow drew down as he examined the wounds. It was hardly anything, and yet the blood didn't want to clot. His head cocked sideways with curiosity. Sitting down there, he put the pastel and brush he was holding to the side and poked curiously at the wounds. It was nothing, really. They just wouldn't clot. He shrugged it off and stood back up, taking his brush and pastel in hand and continuing the almost-finished painting.
With a soundless sigh and a glance around, he set his things on the ground, set up the stand, and unclipped the case. Pulling out a wooden frame with canvas stretched across it, he placed it carefully on the frame and glanced at what he was about to take from real life and put onto the canvas. Opening the backpack, he pulled out a pastel and several brushes. After fixing up the pastel to where it had the colors he would need on it, he took a few long, experimental strokes on the canvas, more to loosen up his fingers and wrist than anything. He was smiling when he started painting for real, glancing only occasionally at what he was actually painting. His photographic memory was more reliable than what he could see with his eyes. The sun was rising rapidly; it was early morning, six-thirty according to his estimates. He'd left his apartment at six. The sun rose quickly, no matter what time of year it was, but it rose earlier in the summer than in the winter. It was already higher than it had been when he'd started out, even though he'd been painting for...
The time had gotten away from him. He'd been standing there for a good two hours, and most of the picture was finished. He wasn't going to get distracted, but it was hard once he realized that blood was seeping down his leg into his sock from where he'd skinned his knees. I knew I should have worn some jeans instead of these shorts. His brow drew down as he examined the wounds. It was hardly anything, and yet the blood didn't want to clot. His head cocked sideways with curiosity. Sitting down there, he put the pastel and brush he was holding to the side and poked curiously at the wounds. It was nothing, really. They just wouldn't clot. He shrugged it off and stood back up, taking his brush and pastel in hand and continuing the almost-finished painting.
[Optional] OOC Section:
Name: Sammi
Location: USA
How long have you been RPing for: My, my, has to be three years now. Simply has to be.
Any other characters on the site?: Nope.
