Post by sweetwilliam on Nov 4, 2009 7:16:40 GMT -6
Name: Axell "Whittaker" Reynaldus
Age: 43
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Hails From: Cascentra
Occupation: Anything apothecary (herbalist, medicine maker), limited healer; Assists in military training and other inner workings within society
Weapons: A curved blade like that of a katana, but longer and heavier in mass. Or a two-handed longsword of unknown material. Both can be carried on his back.
Abilities:
Melee specialist - has an all around knowledge of direct combat and he is very versatile with what his surroundings must offer. In spite of this expertise, he does not fully take advantage of it. He prefers long blades and/or hand-to-hand, rarely taking on anything else in his liking.
White magic - Though his skills in magic may prove impressive for a human, his maximum ability is only to that of an intermediate’s level on certain conditions.
Appearance:
Seemingly built of small stature underneath the usual unpretentious robes, Whittaker would likely capture nothing of interest to one’s eye as his height also comes short to satisfy what is considered average. The face, a plain visage of simple bearing, yet under further consideration does it appear unappealing for the eyes cast down the judgment of a vulturine stare. The eyes assume the hue of listless brown in which raw umber can compare, ireful eyebrows are nestled above, the mouth, pinched with thin lips, few but deep wrinkles carefully set about and a complexion of a brutish tan by the whipping of the sun‘s rays veils him. With thick dark hair, its shade like that of brown soot, it curtains his imposing forehead and then continues to meet into a ponytail humbled by a meek, black ribbon of silk. His expressions are chiseled in such dull procession that one would feel he is perpetually encumbered by a sort of surly sovereignty weighing in his mind. Thus, not only is the face blatant but gruff.
Though he seems to restrict anything of significance, this is contradicted by what lies beneath the guise of gray garbs. A toned structure and heavy frame are deceived by the robes and possibly any scars that continue to heal since the day they first shed ruby running on his skin. His hands, usually tucked away by sleeves or gauntlets, are small; but they are calloused for they have hunted, they have fought, they have felt blood and bones, they have destroyed -- a beast’s claws. Yet, even when the robes are set he does not appear truly vulnerable. Perhaps they offer a very subtle warning of this man’s capabilities even though he is of human race. But then again, robes are not the only clothes present in his attire. Fitted suits of armor, chain mail, doublets, and a greater line of sophisticated hints at the complexity behind the man.
Personality:
He is a brute. An unfriendly man with a rigid temperament, he is certainly not the typical elder healer: sagacious and gentle, kind and patient, willing to share wisdom and advice. Whittaker is aloof and bitingly sardonic, the inner mechanisms thrive on an aggressive instinct inclined for battle and his “slow preparation and swift execution.” For what can be considered as an old man, he is furiously vivacious and disgustingly crude. His subtle or emotional exploding outbursts has been noted, as well as his unwavering, or rather, stubborn nature. But as one draws away from the side that reflects the beast, Whittaker is, generally, solemn to the point of dullness. He lacks a sense of humor or alarm. In most aspects, he has little consideration of social restraint and comes across as blunt and insensitive.
Whittaker’s character is nothing so deceiving. Without a set of his own storybook values or codes or creeds, he is true to himself and will know what he must commit himself to without hesitation. His faithfulness and loyalty are unmatched. An extraordinary will, what appears to be courage and bravery fuels the need to resolve any dire situation. His brute strength and instinct alone would not reassure his survival if his will were to break. And his willpower is the most formidable opponent he has to offer. But one must be able to identify and separate Whittaker the crusader, the healer, and person; and then, one must intertwine them again to see them as one. Such complexities, Whittaker would rather be left to himself and in retort, this would be agreed. However, as if it were a curse, society does not leave him alone.
History:
Whittaker derived from very humble settings. A small plot of land rested outside the main cities of Cascentra which is where he would spend his childhood. The land would develop into a self-sufficient farm, but would still need to rely on what the nearby village or the cities few miles away could offer. Because this small land appeared so vulnerable, other races, beings or bandits would threaten to make its inhabitants slaves. To protect what he had, Whittaker had no choice but fend what he could off. The sword becomes a method, self-taught. Work and labor, a way of life. Rather then lick the several wounds he received, white magic and apothecary are taken under consideration and self study. While growing up, he attempted to receive a more formal education and maybe even a stronger foothold, and thus took to the cities. But as the fear of war began to arise and the state of mind of the people had grown atremble, Whittaker’s expertise of combat would be taken and used elsewhere, and at the same time earn him great recognition as a warrior.
During this period do the facts become blurred and lashed behind ink. Whittaker would rather bury the frayed threads and memories to let it sink further into the dirt. It is known that, in addition to traveling through the various lands of Yviex and encountering several beings, he married amidst these years and produced one child, a daughter. However, it is unfortunate that he should become a widower, the cause hidden away. Through all the years, Whittaker still proves his faith to his beloved deceased. Remarriage does not dare to even entertain itself; more so, the widow refuses its hospitality. Currently, he lives off well on the fortune he has accumulated, but purposely occupies himself (rather excessively) behind work and papers. Still, whatever occurred during this obscure period of Whittaker’s life it has resulted to something hazardous. Many are out there who hold a grudge against him; some have even tried their luck. He is loved, envied, and hated by many simultaneously. His simple duties as a trustworthy human healer in the city (and still studying this field, too), and his daughter, recently married, who still resides here, are threatened. Whittaker heeds the warning, yet simply leaves it as a tag in the back of his mind.
Age: 43
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Hails From: Cascentra
Occupation: Anything apothecary (herbalist, medicine maker), limited healer; Assists in military training and other inner workings within society
Weapons: A curved blade like that of a katana, but longer and heavier in mass. Or a two-handed longsword of unknown material. Both can be carried on his back.
Abilities:
Melee specialist - has an all around knowledge of direct combat and he is very versatile with what his surroundings must offer. In spite of this expertise, he does not fully take advantage of it. He prefers long blades and/or hand-to-hand, rarely taking on anything else in his liking.
White magic - Though his skills in magic may prove impressive for a human, his maximum ability is only to that of an intermediate’s level on certain conditions.
Appearance:
Seemingly built of small stature underneath the usual unpretentious robes, Whittaker would likely capture nothing of interest to one’s eye as his height also comes short to satisfy what is considered average. The face, a plain visage of simple bearing, yet under further consideration does it appear unappealing for the eyes cast down the judgment of a vulturine stare. The eyes assume the hue of listless brown in which raw umber can compare, ireful eyebrows are nestled above, the mouth, pinched with thin lips, few but deep wrinkles carefully set about and a complexion of a brutish tan by the whipping of the sun‘s rays veils him. With thick dark hair, its shade like that of brown soot, it curtains his imposing forehead and then continues to meet into a ponytail humbled by a meek, black ribbon of silk. His expressions are chiseled in such dull procession that one would feel he is perpetually encumbered by a sort of surly sovereignty weighing in his mind. Thus, not only is the face blatant but gruff.
Though he seems to restrict anything of significance, this is contradicted by what lies beneath the guise of gray garbs. A toned structure and heavy frame are deceived by the robes and possibly any scars that continue to heal since the day they first shed ruby running on his skin. His hands, usually tucked away by sleeves or gauntlets, are small; but they are calloused for they have hunted, they have fought, they have felt blood and bones, they have destroyed -- a beast’s claws. Yet, even when the robes are set he does not appear truly vulnerable. Perhaps they offer a very subtle warning of this man’s capabilities even though he is of human race. But then again, robes are not the only clothes present in his attire. Fitted suits of armor, chain mail, doublets, and a greater line of sophisticated hints at the complexity behind the man.
Personality:
He is a brute. An unfriendly man with a rigid temperament, he is certainly not the typical elder healer: sagacious and gentle, kind and patient, willing to share wisdom and advice. Whittaker is aloof and bitingly sardonic, the inner mechanisms thrive on an aggressive instinct inclined for battle and his “slow preparation and swift execution.” For what can be considered as an old man, he is furiously vivacious and disgustingly crude. His subtle or emotional exploding outbursts has been noted, as well as his unwavering, or rather, stubborn nature. But as one draws away from the side that reflects the beast, Whittaker is, generally, solemn to the point of dullness. He lacks a sense of humor or alarm. In most aspects, he has little consideration of social restraint and comes across as blunt and insensitive.
Whittaker’s character is nothing so deceiving. Without a set of his own storybook values or codes or creeds, he is true to himself and will know what he must commit himself to without hesitation. His faithfulness and loyalty are unmatched. An extraordinary will, what appears to be courage and bravery fuels the need to resolve any dire situation. His brute strength and instinct alone would not reassure his survival if his will were to break. And his willpower is the most formidable opponent he has to offer. But one must be able to identify and separate Whittaker the crusader, the healer, and person; and then, one must intertwine them again to see them as one. Such complexities, Whittaker would rather be left to himself and in retort, this would be agreed. However, as if it were a curse, society does not leave him alone.
History:
Whittaker derived from very humble settings. A small plot of land rested outside the main cities of Cascentra which is where he would spend his childhood. The land would develop into a self-sufficient farm, but would still need to rely on what the nearby village or the cities few miles away could offer. Because this small land appeared so vulnerable, other races, beings or bandits would threaten to make its inhabitants slaves. To protect what he had, Whittaker had no choice but fend what he could off. The sword becomes a method, self-taught. Work and labor, a way of life. Rather then lick the several wounds he received, white magic and apothecary are taken under consideration and self study. While growing up, he attempted to receive a more formal education and maybe even a stronger foothold, and thus took to the cities. But as the fear of war began to arise and the state of mind of the people had grown atremble, Whittaker’s expertise of combat would be taken and used elsewhere, and at the same time earn him great recognition as a warrior.
During this period do the facts become blurred and lashed behind ink. Whittaker would rather bury the frayed threads and memories to let it sink further into the dirt. It is known that, in addition to traveling through the various lands of Yviex and encountering several beings, he married amidst these years and produced one child, a daughter. However, it is unfortunate that he should become a widower, the cause hidden away. Through all the years, Whittaker still proves his faith to his beloved deceased. Remarriage does not dare to even entertain itself; more so, the widow refuses its hospitality. Currently, he lives off well on the fortune he has accumulated, but purposely occupies himself (rather excessively) behind work and papers. Still, whatever occurred during this obscure period of Whittaker’s life it has resulted to something hazardous. Many are out there who hold a grudge against him; some have even tried their luck. He is loved, envied, and hated by many simultaneously. His simple duties as a trustworthy human healer in the city (and still studying this field, too), and his daughter, recently married, who still resides here, are threatened. Whittaker heeds the warning, yet simply leaves it as a tag in the back of his mind.