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Morkai is a gaunt, yet striking figure. His pale skin a stark contrast to his meticulously groomed hair and beard the colour of black onyx; both things that serve to hide away the manifold Arcane tattoos that would otherwise mar his skin. His aristocratic, handsome features are made unnerving by his completely black eyes which seem to drink in all light that touches them and hint at his connection to dark magic.
Usually clad in flowing robes the colour of onyx, adorned with faintly glowing runes, he carries himself with a quiet menace. Despite his near-skeletal build, there is a magnetic quality to him. A presence akin to the feel of someone constantly lingering over your shoulder, whispering deep dark secrets in your ear.
Uther stands as a paragon of noble bearing, his towering form clad in gleaming plate and mail that catches the light like a beacon in the dark. His once-pale complexion - a result of his Northern heritage - has been burnished by the sun and wind of the south. It is complemented by the disciplined precision of his aristocratic grooming that serves to highlight the relentless tide of will apparent in his ocean-blue eyes. The light in them though unyielding as the jagged cliffs of his homeland are tempered by duty and shadowed by secrets he dares not speak aloud.
Though guarded in vestments of the Faith and commanding a presence that inspires trust and hope in equal measure, Uther's heart is not untouched by darkness. Beneath his attempts at a stoic demeanour lies a weight that gnaws at his very core. A silent fear that serves to both embolden as well as terrify him. On the one hand his radiance is apparent to all that see him, but perhaps t'is like they always say:
The Night is darkest before Dawn.
Ollonius though all fire and gold is more humane than most humans. Filled with a wisdom and kindness beyond his ken the Favoured Soul of Lathander stands head and shoulders above most men and is able to carry himself to and fro upon wings made of divine flame. Usually clad in robes of matching fervour he rarely has time to rest, for where wickedness awaits the Light of Salvation must also Shine.
Uriel Malachon looms an imposing, statuesque figure whose very presence demands reverence and dread in equal measure. His alabaster skin has been untouched by time contrasts sharply with the glimmering black steel of his armour; with that armour having been etched with ancient symbols describing his eternal reign. His piercing red eyes burn with the hunger of a natural born predator, their malevolent glow a constant reminder of his vampiric nature.
His long, bone-white mane cascades past his shoulders, framing sharp, regal features that speak of a nobility long lost to the dark. Every movement he makes is a deliberate, predatory showing of his might; with his touch especially being akin to being frostbitten. Uriel's presence is not just physical. It is a suffocating aura of pure, raw domination. Clad in in air of imperious command he offers no pity to the weak, for he considers himself the apex of creation. He was born to role - both men and realms- with a singular, unrelenting thirst driving him to the one thing he truly desires:
Blood.
First impressions are everything and Razz certainly knows how to give them. Though born a Drow of Menzoberranzan, his Lowborn status saw him be wielded as, but fodder by the Great Houses ruling said City. Though no moral man, Razz - a creature of greed, ambition and betrayal, could not stand to be controlled by another so he fled first into the Underdark and eventually to the surface. Excelling in manipulating others and being the exact person they expect - and wish- for him to be, he has made a career out of making friends and betraying them. Throughout it all no one has ever managed to peek behind the curtain at the man and see who or what he might become with someone that he can truly believe in.
Least of all him.
Balemon strikes a grim figure on first approach. Looming head and shoulders taller than most men, his steely grey eyes reveal a will forged in iron. That will when combined with his imposing physique has led him to great heights and many conquests. Though no longer quite so young as he once was, he refuses to acknowledge that he may be ageing; with his first action upon discovering that his previously lustrous obsidian black hair was thinning being to cut it all off. A sign for all things that get in his way.
Though appearing little more than just another Orc, a bigger meaner Orc, perhaps, but an Orc nonetheless, few have met Grom's unexpectedly intelligent blue gaze and lived. Born to be a Chieftain he was betrayed by his cousin who, wielding poisons and misdirection, seized the right of inheritance from him he now wanders up and down the length of the Sword Coast in search of prey, loot and allies - whichever he may find. Far from the most noblest of creatures he has no issue with rapine and pillage if it'll, but give him what he wants or needs at the moment, he still holds a measure of charisma and vision that if properly utilised or sparked may lead him to greater things entirely.
Agostino Aberto Maria Cianciana "The Don" Growing up in the poorer regions of Sicily Agostino learned early on that in life you're either the one getting fucked, or then the one doing the fucking. Coming from a famiglia that still held the omerta to be sacred he learned the tricks of the trade from his father and in time rose through the ranks of the local mob to become its don. All his life he did things the 'proper' way, marrying a woman from the life, greasing the right palms and never leaving any witnesses, but what happens when a lifetime of pent up frustration, changing circumstances and just plain old chance throws a wrench in his life and he's forced to take a second look at who and what he's become? | Santo Barilla |
Dale 'Mack' Curtis "The ex-Biker" Appearing the quintessential thug, Dale is indeed one of those few... or not so few that can claim the following titles: Thug, Biker, Bank Robber, Arsonist and... Nurse? A confusing personality indeed, to fully understand Dale or "Mack" as he was known in his past life we have to go back nearly a decade and a half to a dank apartment in the Bronx. Some heroes are forged by fire and cooled in frosty water or oil. If that wisdom holds true, Dale was forged by beatings and cooled with lukewarm beer which led him down a darker path consisting of crime, arson and after a stint in prison a path to redemption as an EMT Nurse. Now he's always the first in and out of the fire and seems to almost have a death wish. | Tom Hardy |
Henry Cavers "The Family Man" A long-suffering middle-manager originally from Coalwood , West Virginia. A former Jock that managed to get to a good university thanks to his athletic prowess, but ruined that in a drunk driving accident where he busted his leg. Got his girlfriend pregnant around the same time and when his daughter Kate was born he decided to try and be better. His girlfriend turned first wife wasn't into that and cheated on him before running off. Mostly well-educated with a penchant for wanting to improve himself and learn. | Joel Kinnaman |
Dr. Kane Raynor "The Shrink" Known for his unorthodox approach to medicine and near legendary ability to connect with his patients, Dr. Kane Raynor is an upscale shrink that alternates between running his own private practice and consulting for various hospitals around New York. At first glance Raynor appears far too laid back and spontaneous to have reached the vaunted heights he has in the medical field. He is seemingly open, friendly and casual to such an extent that many of his patients have at times begun considering him a lifelong friend rather than their therapist. Whilst he'd not object to such a thing, there is a more calculated mind behind such acts than might initially appear. A true professional he always has his eye on the ball and picks up social cues from his hopefully more at ease patients as they open up to him. | Keanu Reeves |
James Rourke "The Rake" Originally from Seattle, Washington James's life reads more like a Johnny Cash song than anything else. He really has been seemingly everywhere and anywhere and in addition to what seems like a major alcohol and smokes problem he also seems to also owe everyone and everything something; be it money, a favour of just plain 'I'm sorry I fucked you, robbed you blind and skedaddled into the night.' Outwardly James is a grinning egomaniac with few, if any qualms about making use of people for his own ends, but he will tend to do the right thing... after having exhausted every other option; though he does have a soft spot for those that have been charged wrongly or out and alone in the big mean world. | Jeffrey D. Morgan |
Tybolt Lannister "The Heir to Casterly Rock" Born on the 350th year after Aegon's Landing, Damon is the eldest son and heir of Ryon Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. A hefty position to be sure, which resulted in the great expectations that would come to surround the eldest son. From an early age Damon seemed a blessed child, fair and healthy, he never truly felt he had his fathers favour as he traversed up and down the Goldroad and further. Even those brief tenures when Damon caught a glimpse of his father seemed all too fleeting and the man seemed gone as soon as he'd arrived. Damon remembers very little of his father from those early formative years, having had a closer watch upon his grandfather as age finally caught up with the venerable Grey Lion. It came as little surprise even to the young lordling when his mother birthed the twins Lanna and Lyla that grandfather asked for his father to assist him in management of the Westerlands; and somewhat to Damon's apprehension, his father accepted. The following months seemed awkward, at least to Damon as he slowly got used to the new reality of not only having two new siblings, but the increased presence of his father at the Rock, but as the winter came and went the two had settled into somewhat more close relationship and Damon was oft his fathers shadow; both at the road and in council meetings, learning the various duties of a lord. Damon has only recently celebrated his 20th birthday, and is well aware of what is to be expected of him in the near future... but that does not mean that he does not yet have some time for youthful follies and foibles! | Jensen Ackles |
Royce Snow "Bastard Regent of Dreadfort" THE story of Royce's birth is hardly a glorious one, and truth be told he is not very likely to speak of it even when asked, but his life began as a squealing babe held close to the breast of his mother Maris, a tavern maid from one of the villages that dot the Weeping Water, paying homage to the Dreadfort for protection. Royce was no ordinary boy however, having been sired by Lord Domeric Bolton; a powerful lord whom in spite of numerous attempts at three wives had failed to sire a son and heir for his house. Having finally taken a smallfolk to his bed, he was elated at the news of a son to prove the earlier⦠misconceptions were not to be lain at his door. Ordering the boy brought to the Dreadfort for a proper upbringing in case he would father no other son, he set about moulding the boy to remember his place, but be ready to elevate himself when called upon. This strange combination of inside and outside the house would be a sore point for Royce the rest of his life. His father showed him no kindness or affection and would often beat the boy when his rage was upon him, but also ensured that he was educated by the Maester and courtiers alike in how a noble should act⦠even though he was reminded at each opportunity that he was not, and never would be such. He was a guest⦠a back up plan for a back up plan in his fathers keep. He was an unwanted guest at his fathers keep, soon learning that whilst silence meant he would not be punished, it also meant not being noticed. In fact when he did not act up and actively seek out trouble he often ran the risk of being completely forgotten⦠of being a ghost that no one would try to find. In these quiet times he would actually visit his mother along the Weeping Water, but found her to be a dull thing of no intellect, but great kindness⦠a kindness he attempted to reciprocate by bringing her food and drink from the kitchens. When he turned thirteen Royce was put to squire under one of Lord Domeric's household knights, a lowborn hedge knight known as Rorke. Rorke was a rough character, preferring his cheap mug of ale and even cheaper women to training some lords bastard, but surprising no one more than himself, Royce proved to be an excellent equestrian and jouster both. Seeing in the Andal way of fighting a chance to actually elevate himself to the Nobility he'd been so long denied, he trained day and night with the sword, shield and lance alike, often riding through the Bolton lands to surmount some new challenge or obstacle. All of his training would eventually pay off when Lord Manderly held a tourney in 349 AC. By then Royce was a man grown, having seen twenty namedays and the title of mere squire itched so he signed up and in a surprising moment even his father and his new Lady-wife traveled with him to White Harbour for the tourney. It was one of the grander events the North had seen in a long time, and knights from as far as the Trident and Vale both ventured to it, drawn by the offer of Lord Manderly's daughter and a great victors purse to boot. | Benedict Cumberbatch |
Mandon Manwoody "The Quiet Knight" At first glance to many, Mandon appears little more than a set of armour going about its duty. Silent almost to a fault, unless he is directly addressed he rarely voices his own thoughts, preferring the silence to hollow words.. He is not a mute however, and was once known for wagging his tongue in boisterous praise and subtle japes so when addressed he is able to speak⦠if not in a pleasant manner. He tends to take a caustic, cynical view of the world and has little use for people speaking for its own sake. His years abroad as a slave taught him to trust in a person's deeds rather than what he may say. A strong believer in doing⦠and showing what he means rather than elaborating on his reasoning, he can come off as cold and uncaring, but underneath the layers of personal protection he has a caring and loyal heart and would die for those he calls his own. | Liam Macintyre |
Orys Baratheon "The Young Stag" IT is oft stated that the Gods make mockery of all men - no matter how great, but in the case of the birth of the man who would become Prince Orys Baratheon of the Iron Throne, it was not a man who was made a fool, but instead a woman. The by now much embittered Queen oft recalls with her brother-lover how it was, but the lessening of one mug of wine that allowed King Robert to enter her bedchamber and have his way with her without uttering the name of his dead love; the Lady Lyanna. That decision to eschew, but one more cup would prove to have consequences of the natural kind and in nine Moons time a screaming whelp black of hair and blue of eye sprung forth from the already vicious Queen Cersei. The lad was clearly a Baratheon born and bred, and even with all the hatred the Queen already felt - and would feel - towards her husband, she found herself loving him with the same desperate, undying love that a mother would any of her children. She wasn't the only one that found herself swept up in her child's strength however, and as the years came and went the babe turned into a lad and then a young man - virile and strong as his own father had been when his age. He sparred with the Knights of the Kingsguard; and whilst he never did manage to best those white cloaked men, their lessons prepared him for a Knighthood spent under the mentorship of Barristan the Bold. In addition to the Bold Knight of House Selmy the Prince was also tutored by many men, but none quite so important as Lord Tywin Lannister - his grandfather. That tutelage came to be when Robert - deep in his cups - once again proposed to send his son for fosterage in Winterfell, Dragonstone or some other place where he might 'become a man', only for the boys mother to lash out at him with such venom that the boy found himself on the first caravan to Lannisport the following morning. Said tutelage was not to last more than a single Summers time, but during those long Moons Orys was taught that which Tywin valued: the usage and understanding of power. It would however be remiss to state that the Prince ever had any real fondness for scholarly pursuits however, and whilst he's ever enjoyed martial contests and courtly pursuits alike, it is rare to find him with tome or quill in hand. By the time Prince Orys returned to the Capital much had changed in it. The wound etched deep into his parents marriage had grown ever sorer and more venomous, with, but the promised journey to the North now giving his father any joy. The Death of Jon Arryn may have been a tragedy for most - if not all - involved, but it has once again given him chance to meet his dear old friend Ned⦠as well as a chance to make the Houses of Baratheon Stark via a match of his eldest son with his oldest friends daughter Sansa... | Henry Cavill |
Jonos Darry "The Black Plowman" Born in 12th day of the 11th Moon to Lord Waymar Darry and Lady Bethany Bracken, Jonos was the second son of the union, with his elder Merrett having seen several namedays before then. Not only had Jonos been born second in order, but would struggle for the next decade and a half with his better looking, more charismatic brother to escape his shadow. The struggle was not an easy one as the only place where Jonos appeared to match his brothers talents was in the training yard, and his resentful aggression and hot-temper got him in more than a bit of hot-water when in a particularly nasty incident he finally got the upper-hand on his older brother and pummeled his face with the training sword till he was bloodied and beaten, and Jonos dragged off him by the Master at Arms. Not only were Jonos's parents furious, but by bloodying him so publicly he earned Merett's undying enmity, and the much cleverer and older teen did his best to make Jonos's life a living hell. The tragic youth of Jonos culminated on his 14th nameday. For many moons he'd been smitten by the daughter of a Household Knight, and she, at the behest of his brother urged him on with flirtatious behaviour. This all culminated on his 14th nameday when she dragged him into his chambers, urging him to undress. Unsure of himself, but feeling he was in love, Jonos moved to consummate his love, only for his brother and cohorts to burst through the door to laugh and mock at him. So humiliated, he in a fit of rage struck both his brother and the girl that had so tormented him. His brother laughed it off, having readied for it, but the flirtatious knights daughter was not so ready and struck her head on the stone floor, breaking it and dying on the spot. Lord Waymar was horrified by the bloodied face of his second son, and in a fit of rage banished him from the Darry lands, never to set foot there against with only token arms and armour and a horse for him to make his living on, Jonos was forced to leave the only home he'd known for fourteen years on his nameday. The following days would prove no kinder. The youth would likely have died out in the wilds of Westeros by his lonesome had he not come across some bandits led by a Hedge Knight calling himself the Knight of Pussywillows, whom took pity on the young lad, taking the highborn brat as his squire to travel across Westeros in many less than lawful enterprises. In the year 357 Jonos was present at White Harbour for the A Grand Tournament to commemorate the victory in the War for the Dawn. At the age of two and twenty he fought in the melee and distinguished himself sufficiently to be knighted in the aftermath. Fates again proved themselves cruel however, as in the aftermath of the tourney The Knight of Pussywillows and his merry band were set upon by the various lords with grievances against them, with to his knowledge only Jonos managing to make his escape to a ship bound for Bravos. The following years saw Jonos grow ever more dangerous and ambitious as he joined the Company of the Cat, and quickly rose through the ranks of the officers, making a name for himself as a brutal, but skilled leader of men with the moniker "Black Plowman" gaining more than a little infamy in the disputed lands and Free cities. His life changed yet again only scant moons ago when the news of his brother Merrett's passing reached him via courier sent by the Castellan of Darry. The letter was brief and to the point, only confirming that his brother had died without a living heir to his blood, and as the second son of Darry blood Jonos was next in line, should he be alive, but if he were not the cousins of the main Darry line descended from House Frey would gladly take over the mantle should he not appear at his earliest convenience. Unwilling to see himself lose his inheritance and home for a second time, Jonos book the fastest ship to Westeros, and now stands on the precipice of arriving in Maidenpool to claim his birthright. | James Frain |
Daemon Blackfyre "The Black Dragon" Unlike his sister Lidica, Daemon though bearing the name of their forebears was not born to rule. He came to this world screaming and demanding for attention he was never going to receive. As the youngest child of Daemon IV, Daemon was never at a risk of becoming King of the Narrow Sea. His father was yet hale and hearty throughout much of his youth, and Daemon's older brother Vildred appeared the obvious successor. Even though House Targaryen had long since abolished the right of women to inherit, the Blackfyre's long exile had changed that as well, meaning that Lidica was another contender for the throne. Growing up Daemon spent his early years both shadowing and being overshadowed by his wilder sister. When she was given over to the Captains to become a part of the Fleet, Daemon wept bitter tears and sulked for many nights till he too was sent to be tutored on Driftmark by House Velaryon. Though he was too young to truly have a grasp on what 'culture' he was supposed to hail from, living on Driftmark under the protection of the Velaryons his personal image solidified to that of a 'Westerosi Valyrian', and he moulded himself in much the same vein as all the Kings that traced their lineage to Aegon the Dragon. Whilst he remained proud of his Valyrian blood and stories of Dragons remained his favourite, he took to worshipping the Seven, as well as squiring for a Knight so that upon his nineteenth nameday he was anointed a Knight in the light of the Seven. Though his mentors had taught him honour, courage and valour as befit a man that made his offerings on the Warriors altar, Daemon did not grow entirely into the mould so set for him. In the wee hours of the night he'd oft find himself in the library of Driftmark and would study texts, both mundane and esoteric for knowledge of the world and his heritage. He read of Aegon and His Dragons, and of the Wars that his namesake Daemon the Rogue Prince had once fought to claim the Stepstones. The lessons learned from these tomes tended to guide him away from matters military to preferring the avenues of diplomacy. Upon being Knighted in the Septry of High Tide Daemon returned to Dragonstone. He heard of his fathers and brothers deaths too late, and though his love and loyalty for his sister remain true, it remains to be seen if that love nurtured through long distances and time can remain true when confronted by the reality of who the sister he has idealised in his mind has become. Already men of influence and once loyal to his elder brother have begun to ply his ear with notions of his own ascendence, and though he has swept aside such notions things in the Seven Kingdoms are ever in motion and it remains to be seen if his love and loyalty remain true... | Unknown |
Once the Prince of a the twin-sunned Red Wastes bordering Stygia and the Black Kingdoms, Kharek slew his father, warchief of his tribe and carved a new path westward - seeking the crown of an ancient ruined city. Despite his upbringing he is no brute, however, using other people assuming that just because he is a mountain of a man with sun-burnished obsidian for skin he must also be a simpleton. That each ritual scar carved into his chest, back and shoulders must've meant a lesson not-learned by him.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Just because Kharek finds more joy in wielding a bronze khopesh and carving his enemies root from stem does not make him a fool. It simply places him ahead of the curve, for barbarism is the natural state of mankind, and Kharek... dread-locked hair tied with bones and golden bands, donning a desert warriors grab of half-armour and crocodile hide knows that best of all.
Sathir of Zamora was once the tip-of-the-spear of a now forgotten god of flame and famine. He razed cities in His name and drank the blood of Kings. But when the God turned on his followers, casting a curse of famine upon them, Sathir too turned on him, eventually feasting upon his very marrow. He now walks the world with His bones in his bag, His voice still sometimes screaming inside his head. He wields fragments of His divinity... a fire that burns too clean, memories and disease that cut too deepāand religious fervour that is prone to madness in the heat of battle.
He now seeks a new godāor goddessābe it to serve... or feast upon their flesh, he knows not.
Either way... someone will bleed with every step of his bare feet and serve as the ash that yet colours his skin.