Post by Dartanian on Jan 20, 2014 0:56:47 GMT 8
Name:
Dartanian BeBastille
Gender:
Male
Orientation:
Bisexual
Height:
6'1
Age:
??
Job:
Ex-con/Warden/Musketeer
Skills:
Expert Fencer
Expert Marksman
Well versed in unorthodox combat
Master Lock picker
Master Thief
Origin:
Lenaria
Race:
Human
Background:
Not much is known about Dartanian DeBastille or even if that is his real name. All that is know is that he was once a South Nirvanian prisoner.
The story of his prison years were that of the stuff of legends. A man was lead into the prison his head incased in an iron skull, wether it was for the protection of himself or that of those around him. no one knew for sure; incarcerated in the very bowels of the prison the darkness gave him solitude. A solitude which he had long forgotten, with no one to talk to but his own demons. One day the screaming inside his head began to intensify, voices he never heard started to fill his head; "THERE HERE!" the voice was young the man thought to himself, "ALL CLEAR!" the same voice yelled after a few minutes of clashing steel and muffled yells. "Siiiir! you have to see this!" A man in lavish armor follows the young man's voice. As he enters the chamber before him is a man with an iron mask chained to the wall. "What is your name?" the man in lavish armor asked. "I do not know." The masked man replied. "Do you know where you are?". "I do not know." The masked man replied again. "Do you know what this place is?". "I do not know.". "Do you know what they have done to you?". "I do not know.". "Can you escape on your own?". "Yes." The masked man looks at the man in the lavish armor dead in the eyes and with a grunt he yanks the chains off the wall. The man in the lavish armor places his hand on the masked man's shoulder. "Come with me, son."
Personality:
Dartanian is a very respectful and disciplined person but is very blunt in the way he talks.
Likes:
Fencing
Hunting
Guns
Swords
Nature
Dislikes:
Being alone
Enclosed spaces
Dark places
Habits:
Trains when ever he can
Likes to admire nature
"his flesh has grown polyps beneath the rivets
the castellated plates
have cast a ridgework onto his face
the eyeslits and his eye sockets
have aged as one
tarnished together
the clasps behind the mask
have allowed the escape
of clumps of his hair
that once was black
and is now faded to grey
and when you take a cold chisel
and kneel on his icy back
when you crack apart the sweat-etched, steel carapace
how can you be surprised to see
that his skin has turned grey
and his skull
has become the mask."
Dartanian BeBastille
Gender:
Male
Orientation:
Bisexual
Height:
6'1
Age:
??
Job:
Ex-con/Warden/Musketeer
Skills:
Expert Fencer
Expert Marksman
Well versed in unorthodox combat
Master Lock picker
Master Thief
Origin:
Lenaria
Race:
Human
Background:
Not much is known about Dartanian DeBastille or even if that is his real name. All that is know is that he was once a South Nirvanian prisoner.
The story of his prison years were that of the stuff of legends. A man was lead into the prison his head incased in an iron skull, wether it was for the protection of himself or that of those around him. no one knew for sure; incarcerated in the very bowels of the prison the darkness gave him solitude. A solitude which he had long forgotten, with no one to talk to but his own demons. One day the screaming inside his head began to intensify, voices he never heard started to fill his head; "THERE HERE!" the voice was young the man thought to himself, "ALL CLEAR!" the same voice yelled after a few minutes of clashing steel and muffled yells. "Siiiir! you have to see this!" A man in lavish armor follows the young man's voice. As he enters the chamber before him is a man with an iron mask chained to the wall. "What is your name?" the man in lavish armor asked. "I do not know." The masked man replied. "Do you know where you are?". "I do not know." The masked man replied again. "Do you know what this place is?". "I do not know.". "Do you know what they have done to you?". "I do not know.". "Can you escape on your own?". "Yes." The masked man looks at the man in the lavish armor dead in the eyes and with a grunt he yanks the chains off the wall. The man in the lavish armor places his hand on the masked man's shoulder. "Come with me, son."
Personality:
Dartanian is a very respectful and disciplined person but is very blunt in the way he talks.
Likes:
Fencing
Hunting
Guns
Swords
Nature
Dislikes:
Being alone
Enclosed spaces
Dark places
Habits:
Trains when ever he can
Likes to admire nature
"his flesh has grown polyps beneath the rivets
the castellated plates
have cast a ridgework onto his face
the eyeslits and his eye sockets
have aged as one
tarnished together
the clasps behind the mask
have allowed the escape
of clumps of his hair
that once was black
and is now faded to grey
and when you take a cold chisel
and kneel on his icy back
when you crack apart the sweat-etched, steel carapace
how can you be surprised to see
that his skin has turned grey
and his skull
has become the mask."
