- Pronouns
- He/Him
Rosary_Omen
Legend
Full Titles:
Nickname/Alias: Axael (this is the only name he gives)
KEY INFORMATION:
Age: 43
Gender: Male
Race: Silver Elf
Sexuality: He's currently unsure
Height: 6ft (and a smidge)
Weight: Around 160lbs
Homeland: (I'll decide this at some point XD)
Current Home: Nowhere
PHYSIOLOGY:
Build: Wiry
Hair: White, shoulder length
Eyes: Green
Skin: Tanned/sun-kissed
Identifying Marks: None
Appearance:
In game appearance: (It'll do till I can get something better)
Clothing: Nothing special at the moment, plain dark pants, rich purple shirt and a black hooded cape.
Prized Possessions: None, he left all that behind
Hygiene: As clean as he can be while wandering
Voice: Soft-spoken, can get loud when angry. Dulcet tones.
QUALITIES AND FLAWS:
Strengths: Good with animals, not a bad archer (he's learning), resourceful. Lots of reading in the past means lots of random knowledge, which comes in handy sometimes.
Fears: Being dragged home, dying, strangers
Weaknesses: Social Situations
Languages: Common, Elvish
Profession: Undecided
ETHICS AND MOTIVATIONS:
Personality: Quiet, softly spoken, socially awkward, he misses social cues/sarcasm/jokes often. Prefers his own, or very little company. (although he will wallflower around crowds for a bit.) Animals > people.
Religion or Cults: He claims Shalherana if asked, he never was huge on religion.
Alignment: Neutral good, for now maybe.
Short Term Goals: Find a storefront to rent and start a business.
Long Term Goals: Make friends, run his business.
TRIVIA:
Favourite...
Place: To be decided
Pastime: Exploring, currently. Even if this whole... plague business has made it terribly stressful, dangerous and not as fun as he originally hoped.
Food: He likes a lot of different foods
Drink: Juice, fruit juice in any forms
Colour: Purple
Animal: If he really, really has to choose one? Dogs.
Least Favourite...
Place: Back home
Pastime: (TBD)
Food: Lettuce
Drink: Strong alcohols
Colour: Orange
Animal: Snakes, they just creep him out
RELATIONS:
Loved:
Trusted:
Befriended:
Liked:
Neutral:
Unsure of: Everyone at first.
Wary of: His parents. Despite what happened, he's worried they'll come and try to take him home.
Afraid of:
Disliked:
Hated:
BACKSTORY:
For all of his attempts to enjoy the life his parents had decided for him, a life of study and monotony, he couldn’t. Year after year had seemed to pass slower and all he wanted to do was his own thing. Explore, make mistakes, have some excitement in his life for once. Every single time the subject was bought up, any attempts to plead or bargain his way out of this stifling life that was metaphorically sucking the life out of him, he was shut down. “Your life here is more important than you think.” Were words he heard often and after the third time, was beyond tired of hearing. Yes, he loved his parents and he had a safe life where he was cared for and had a guaranteed future… but that just wasn’t enough. Reading stories of the rest of the world, of Heroes and Gods, suffering and triumph; it filled him with a sense of wonder from a young age and that sense hadn’t faded over the years. Scarcely an adult now, he was still sheltered. Overprotected, one might say.
Boredom started to make his everyday chores even more of a burden as every month passed and his spare time was spent reading and quietly planning on a way out of this life. He didn’t want to hurt his parents, they’d been nothing but loving, but if he stayed here much longer he’d surely lose his mind. If not fall into complete apathy and no one wanted that. Not when there was always a way around a problem. Even if it meant hurting the ones he loved, but their emotional pain would pass. He’d leave them a letter of course, detailing why he’d fled in the cover of night and reminding them that while he did still love them very much, he did not love this life they made for him. That it was time for their only son to find his own path in life. He knew it meant he’d have no family, he had somewhere in the world (if she still lived) an aunt who had that same Wanderlust, who was formally disowned from the family as soon as it was discovered she had left.
So be it. Perhaps in a few years, once their disappointment and anger had subsided, he could go home and visit. For now, though, he’d take on a new name as he ventured forth with the few items he could carry (and the mediocre amount of money he had) into this world.
Nickname/Alias: Axael (this is the only name he gives)
KEY INFORMATION:
Age: 43
Gender: Male
Race: Silver Elf
Sexuality: He's currently unsure
Height: 6ft (and a smidge)
Weight: Around 160lbs
Homeland: (I'll decide this at some point XD)
Current Home: Nowhere
PHYSIOLOGY:
Build: Wiry
Hair: White, shoulder length
Eyes: Green
Skin: Tanned/sun-kissed
Identifying Marks: None
Appearance:
In game appearance: (It'll do till I can get something better)
Clothing: Nothing special at the moment, plain dark pants, rich purple shirt and a black hooded cape.
Prized Possessions: None, he left all that behind
Hygiene: As clean as he can be while wandering
Voice: Soft-spoken, can get loud when angry. Dulcet tones.
QUALITIES AND FLAWS:
Strengths: Good with animals, not a bad archer (he's learning), resourceful. Lots of reading in the past means lots of random knowledge, which comes in handy sometimes.
Fears: Being dragged home, dying, strangers
Weaknesses: Social Situations
Languages: Common, Elvish
Profession: Undecided
ETHICS AND MOTIVATIONS:
Personality: Quiet, softly spoken, socially awkward, he misses social cues/sarcasm/jokes often. Prefers his own, or very little company. (although he will wallflower around crowds for a bit.) Animals > people.
Religion or Cults: He claims Shalherana if asked, he never was huge on religion.
Alignment: Neutral good, for now maybe.
Short Term Goals: Find a storefront to rent and start a business.
Long Term Goals: Make friends, run his business.
TRIVIA:
Favourite...
Place: To be decided
Pastime: Exploring, currently. Even if this whole... plague business has made it terribly stressful, dangerous and not as fun as he originally hoped.
Food: He likes a lot of different foods
Drink: Juice, fruit juice in any forms
Colour: Purple
Animal: If he really, really has to choose one? Dogs.
Least Favourite...
Place: Back home
Pastime: (TBD)
Food: Lettuce
Drink: Strong alcohols
Colour: Orange
Animal: Snakes, they just creep him out
RELATIONS:
Loved:
Trusted:
Befriended:
Liked:
Neutral:
Unsure of: Everyone at first.
Wary of: His parents. Despite what happened, he's worried they'll come and try to take him home.
Afraid of:
Disliked:
Hated:
BACKSTORY:
For all of his attempts to enjoy the life his parents had decided for him, a life of study and monotony, he couldn’t. Year after year had seemed to pass slower and all he wanted to do was his own thing. Explore, make mistakes, have some excitement in his life for once. Every single time the subject was bought up, any attempts to plead or bargain his way out of this stifling life that was metaphorically sucking the life out of him, he was shut down. “Your life here is more important than you think.” Were words he heard often and after the third time, was beyond tired of hearing. Yes, he loved his parents and he had a safe life where he was cared for and had a guaranteed future… but that just wasn’t enough. Reading stories of the rest of the world, of Heroes and Gods, suffering and triumph; it filled him with a sense of wonder from a young age and that sense hadn’t faded over the years. Scarcely an adult now, he was still sheltered. Overprotected, one might say.
Boredom started to make his everyday chores even more of a burden as every month passed and his spare time was spent reading and quietly planning on a way out of this life. He didn’t want to hurt his parents, they’d been nothing but loving, but if he stayed here much longer he’d surely lose his mind. If not fall into complete apathy and no one wanted that. Not when there was always a way around a problem. Even if it meant hurting the ones he loved, but their emotional pain would pass. He’d leave them a letter of course, detailing why he’d fled in the cover of night and reminding them that while he did still love them very much, he did not love this life they made for him. That it was time for their only son to find his own path in life. He knew it meant he’d have no family, he had somewhere in the world (if she still lived) an aunt who had that same Wanderlust, who was formally disowned from the family as soon as it was discovered she had left.
So be it. Perhaps in a few years, once their disappointment and anger had subsided, he could go home and visit. For now, though, he’d take on a new name as he ventured forth with the few items he could carry (and the mediocre amount of money he had) into this world.
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