Post by danaphantom on Nov 18, 2011 18:43:23 GMT -5
Username: Dana Phantom
Character Number: 5 (100 posts)
Name: Arodolf
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Rank: Candidate
Wing: Ground Crew
Status: Fighting Fit
Appearance:
There is an aura about this man that leaves many wondering just quite what his story is. Sure, there are faint traces that can be gleaned - an air of nobility, a dominance often found in the children children of some of the more uppity Lord Holders. Yet this is mostly squashed under a strict front of steely indifference. Perhaps this man simply has je ne sais quoi because of the fact that he lets nothing through.
Arodolf certainly sparks curiosity simply because his features edge away from the Pernese norm. Topically, one of the first things one notices would be the man's golden blond hair. It hangs loosely in a casual style around his head, brushing his eyebrows and the base of his neck. Another feature very readily noticed are his striking dark blue eyes, gently shaped yet hardened. Flat, narrow eyebrows rest above them, with high cheekbones below. A straight, slightly pointed nose hovers over thin lips. Overall, his features have a "classic" feel to them, more often seen in young men of the early Twentieth Century Terra than third-millenia Pern.
Standing at six foot two, Arodolf is clearly above average in height, yet doesn't touch upon the measurements that start to get inhuman. His build is fit but by no means buff; any toning this man has is simply from his lack of excess pounds rather than intentional muscle building. He's not quite broad-chested, but by no means boyish, and settles into a happy medium between the two. Arodolf's clothing taste is refined, but lacks the same elegance that a Lord Holder might boast. Solid colors are the most common, with patterns appearing on only the rarest occasions. For the most part, he chooses plain or very lightly accented tunics, a pair of breeches, and some boots for his daily wear.
Personality:
More closely likened to cold, unbending steel than warm, solid rock, there is a strength to Arodolf, but he is far from the protectorate. Indeed, he seems to ward off other people more than he draws them in. Those that do approach him find a wall there, an invisible barrier separating himself from the world. Despite this, much can be gleaned from this man - he is far from a minstrel, and his efforts to cover up his secrets and emotions are not always successful. Still, simply not speaking has quite a benefit. Whatever lies beneath the facade, whatever secrets Arodolf has are not going to be voiced any time soon.
In private, however, he's vastly different from the guise he puts on when out. One of the first things one would notice if they could venture in on him while he was distracted is the fact that Arodolf is highly studious. When he can, he consumes books like they're going out of style, researching all schools and theories with no bias towards a particular subject. Furthermore, he was taught swordplay and other martial arts starting at a young age, and does enjoy a good spar, even if he tries to mask it outwardly. His curiosity rarely extends towards other people, if just because getting close to a person would require him to reciprocate, which he is completely unwilling to do.
To assume his public and private selves are mutually exclusive would be erroneous, as certain parts of his personality do work in both worlds. There is a certain arrogance around Arodolf, with the knowledge that he does, indeed, know more than you. He may not be a master, but with the sheer bredth of his skills, there is something e can win with. Furthermore, as a child of noble blood, he was raised with the intention to be better than everyone else. Simply being told that one is above the rabble is enough to instill that feeling rather permanently into a person. To add onto this, he holds himself with a certain grace, showing even further that he is, indeed, better.
While one might expect a certain hostility from Arodolf, they find that this is quite far from the truth. While he does get annoyed very easily, he also sees anger as beneath him. If challenged, he will defend himself and his honor, but there is little aggression. Fighting is just as methodic as any other subject in his life.
History:
Very little is known about Arodolf's history, and he likes it that way. It is something he would like to keep behind him, so it is never brought up in general conversation.
In all reality, Arodolf's history starts many turns before he was born. His grandfather, a guardsman, managed to take a small Hold for himself in a military coup. It wasn't even large enough for Solace to even take notice of the change of leadership or even the fact that they had stopped tithing. He had a dream, just as radical as the founders of Solace and several levels more insane. It was nearing the end of the Interval, and as such, there were a fair share of Holders that did not believe Thread was coming back. Haetar was one of them, and he was determined to throw the shackles of the Dragonriders off of them... by creating a superior race of humans.
Brash words were enough to sway the backwater holders into following Haetar, the ignorant masses happy to fall in line behind a bold speaker. He may have been insane, but Haetar was no fool. He knew that overthrowing the dragons would be difficult, a dream for his children and grandchildren. At least, as long as they had blond hair and blue eyes.
Arodolf was born many years later to Haetar's favored son, Ayreean, a perfect example of the aging Lord Holder's dream. Ar had a few older siblings, but they had been set aside. They had their place of comfort in Haetar's 'perfect' society, but Arodolf was decidedly set on a pedestal, polished into the heir apparent of the slowly crumbling kingdom. Haetar kept his family lavishly taken care of, but it came at a price to his 'subjects.' Fields were worked until they became infertile. Beasts were worked to the bone, and when they dropped from exhaustion, the rabble got to scrape up what was left and subsist on that.
Still, Arodolf found his young years wanting for nothing. He was spoiled and coddled, taught that he was better than others, given manners and the proper poise for a Lord Holder. In proper Lordly fashion, as his grandfather would put it, he took everything in stride, and never became too arrogant about his position. Having an older brother to intimidate him into submission helped, though the sheer fact that the whole situation was not Ar's cup of tea was also a determining factor. As he grew, so, too, did his curiosity. All attempts to find out about the world outside his closed-in Hold were squashed, planting the first seeds of rebellion in his mind.
As the turns of puberty began to set in, Arodolf began to see the truth behind his grandfather's gilt lies. Supplementing this, the holders were boiling with unrest, discontent with the poor treatment that they had endured for two decades. There were the few that noticed foreboding signs - the rise of the Red Star, dark ash drifting from the sky - signs that signified that, perhaps, Haetar had been wrong all along. Stifled, both Arodolf and the beholden of Jyrnan started to make their plans.
It was sheer, dumb luck that Arodolf managed to strike first.
Under the guise of going on a hunt, Arodolf bribed a guard to lie to his parents for him, citing his brother's blundering as to why he wanted to venture out into the wilds alone. Taking a runner and stealing away into the predawn morning, the boy never looked back, even if he had no idea what was in front of him. He had no intention to return to the shadows he had left, the secrets he was not supposed to know.
It was a cruel irony that he would learn, a few days later, that the farmers had rebelled and took their hold back. He had not intended to spark up any conversation about his home, despite the doubts that had begun to linger in the back of his mind. As a boy of fifteen, he was not cut out, not ready to live on his own yet. He had found the freedom he had craved, but the price was beginning to feel steep. Returning was no longer an option, as his grandfather had been assassinated, the rest of his family turned out into the wilds. At least if he managed to stay unknown, he could pass through unnoticed.
Thread would fall a day later, destroying what little credit his grandfather still held.
Arodolf began living as a migrant, travelling from hold to hold, trading what he could find and the few baubles he could spare for shelter, food, and information. He found a Master Harper that was intrigued by his insatiable appetite for facts, which started a very brief stint as an Apprentice. Arodolf had no deep interest in the craft, but it provided protection and the facts he buried himself in to hide away from the cold truth. A journey to a more sizable hold would turn his luck around. A search party arrived, and, in one last kick to the deceased Haetar's legacy, Ar was chosen to be one of the very people his grandfather had decided to fight against. Dragonriding had barely made it to the professions he had thought upon, but going to the Weyr would be a decisive strike, severing what few ties he had to his home.
Solace was a refuge. It was a future.
Hatchings have come and gone, but Arodolf has payed little mind to them. If his destiny did not come with a dragon, so be it. Here he could be himself, be independent, another face in the crowd and surrounded by whatever he chose to keep. The records were his haven, the anonymity was his savior.
And Jyrnan faded from memory.
Family:
Grandfather: Haetar, ex-Lord of Jyrnan Hold, deceased
Father: Ayreean, Holdless
Mother: Dolfina, Holdless
Siblings: Several, status unknowna
Character Number: 5 (100 posts)
Name: Arodolf
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Rank: Candidate
Wing: Ground Crew
Status: Fighting Fit
Appearance:
There is an aura about this man that leaves many wondering just quite what his story is. Sure, there are faint traces that can be gleaned - an air of nobility, a dominance often found in the children children of some of the more uppity Lord Holders. Yet this is mostly squashed under a strict front of steely indifference. Perhaps this man simply has je ne sais quoi because of the fact that he lets nothing through.
Arodolf certainly sparks curiosity simply because his features edge away from the Pernese norm. Topically, one of the first things one notices would be the man's golden blond hair. It hangs loosely in a casual style around his head, brushing his eyebrows and the base of his neck. Another feature very readily noticed are his striking dark blue eyes, gently shaped yet hardened. Flat, narrow eyebrows rest above them, with high cheekbones below. A straight, slightly pointed nose hovers over thin lips. Overall, his features have a "classic" feel to them, more often seen in young men of the early Twentieth Century Terra than third-millenia Pern.
Standing at six foot two, Arodolf is clearly above average in height, yet doesn't touch upon the measurements that start to get inhuman. His build is fit but by no means buff; any toning this man has is simply from his lack of excess pounds rather than intentional muscle building. He's not quite broad-chested, but by no means boyish, and settles into a happy medium between the two. Arodolf's clothing taste is refined, but lacks the same elegance that a Lord Holder might boast. Solid colors are the most common, with patterns appearing on only the rarest occasions. For the most part, he chooses plain or very lightly accented tunics, a pair of breeches, and some boots for his daily wear.
Personality:
More closely likened to cold, unbending steel than warm, solid rock, there is a strength to Arodolf, but he is far from the protectorate. Indeed, he seems to ward off other people more than he draws them in. Those that do approach him find a wall there, an invisible barrier separating himself from the world. Despite this, much can be gleaned from this man - he is far from a minstrel, and his efforts to cover up his secrets and emotions are not always successful. Still, simply not speaking has quite a benefit. Whatever lies beneath the facade, whatever secrets Arodolf has are not going to be voiced any time soon.
In private, however, he's vastly different from the guise he puts on when out. One of the first things one would notice if they could venture in on him while he was distracted is the fact that Arodolf is highly studious. When he can, he consumes books like they're going out of style, researching all schools and theories with no bias towards a particular subject. Furthermore, he was taught swordplay and other martial arts starting at a young age, and does enjoy a good spar, even if he tries to mask it outwardly. His curiosity rarely extends towards other people, if just because getting close to a person would require him to reciprocate, which he is completely unwilling to do.
To assume his public and private selves are mutually exclusive would be erroneous, as certain parts of his personality do work in both worlds. There is a certain arrogance around Arodolf, with the knowledge that he does, indeed, know more than you. He may not be a master, but with the sheer bredth of his skills, there is something e can win with. Furthermore, as a child of noble blood, he was raised with the intention to be better than everyone else. Simply being told that one is above the rabble is enough to instill that feeling rather permanently into a person. To add onto this, he holds himself with a certain grace, showing even further that he is, indeed, better.
While one might expect a certain hostility from Arodolf, they find that this is quite far from the truth. While he does get annoyed very easily, he also sees anger as beneath him. If challenged, he will defend himself and his honor, but there is little aggression. Fighting is just as methodic as any other subject in his life.
History:
Very little is known about Arodolf's history, and he likes it that way. It is something he would like to keep behind him, so it is never brought up in general conversation.
In all reality, Arodolf's history starts many turns before he was born. His grandfather, a guardsman, managed to take a small Hold for himself in a military coup. It wasn't even large enough for Solace to even take notice of the change of leadership or even the fact that they had stopped tithing. He had a dream, just as radical as the founders of Solace and several levels more insane. It was nearing the end of the Interval, and as such, there were a fair share of Holders that did not believe Thread was coming back. Haetar was one of them, and he was determined to throw the shackles of the Dragonriders off of them... by creating a superior race of humans.
Brash words were enough to sway the backwater holders into following Haetar, the ignorant masses happy to fall in line behind a bold speaker. He may have been insane, but Haetar was no fool. He knew that overthrowing the dragons would be difficult, a dream for his children and grandchildren. At least, as long as they had blond hair and blue eyes.
Arodolf was born many years later to Haetar's favored son, Ayreean, a perfect example of the aging Lord Holder's dream. Ar had a few older siblings, but they had been set aside. They had their place of comfort in Haetar's 'perfect' society, but Arodolf was decidedly set on a pedestal, polished into the heir apparent of the slowly crumbling kingdom. Haetar kept his family lavishly taken care of, but it came at a price to his 'subjects.' Fields were worked until they became infertile. Beasts were worked to the bone, and when they dropped from exhaustion, the rabble got to scrape up what was left and subsist on that.
Still, Arodolf found his young years wanting for nothing. He was spoiled and coddled, taught that he was better than others, given manners and the proper poise for a Lord Holder. In proper Lordly fashion, as his grandfather would put it, he took everything in stride, and never became too arrogant about his position. Having an older brother to intimidate him into submission helped, though the sheer fact that the whole situation was not Ar's cup of tea was also a determining factor. As he grew, so, too, did his curiosity. All attempts to find out about the world outside his closed-in Hold were squashed, planting the first seeds of rebellion in his mind.
As the turns of puberty began to set in, Arodolf began to see the truth behind his grandfather's gilt lies. Supplementing this, the holders were boiling with unrest, discontent with the poor treatment that they had endured for two decades. There were the few that noticed foreboding signs - the rise of the Red Star, dark ash drifting from the sky - signs that signified that, perhaps, Haetar had been wrong all along. Stifled, both Arodolf and the beholden of Jyrnan started to make their plans.
It was sheer, dumb luck that Arodolf managed to strike first.
Under the guise of going on a hunt, Arodolf bribed a guard to lie to his parents for him, citing his brother's blundering as to why he wanted to venture out into the wilds alone. Taking a runner and stealing away into the predawn morning, the boy never looked back, even if he had no idea what was in front of him. He had no intention to return to the shadows he had left, the secrets he was not supposed to know.
It was a cruel irony that he would learn, a few days later, that the farmers had rebelled and took their hold back. He had not intended to spark up any conversation about his home, despite the doubts that had begun to linger in the back of his mind. As a boy of fifteen, he was not cut out, not ready to live on his own yet. He had found the freedom he had craved, but the price was beginning to feel steep. Returning was no longer an option, as his grandfather had been assassinated, the rest of his family turned out into the wilds. At least if he managed to stay unknown, he could pass through unnoticed.
Thread would fall a day later, destroying what little credit his grandfather still held.
Arodolf began living as a migrant, travelling from hold to hold, trading what he could find and the few baubles he could spare for shelter, food, and information. He found a Master Harper that was intrigued by his insatiable appetite for facts, which started a very brief stint as an Apprentice. Arodolf had no deep interest in the craft, but it provided protection and the facts he buried himself in to hide away from the cold truth. A journey to a more sizable hold would turn his luck around. A search party arrived, and, in one last kick to the deceased Haetar's legacy, Ar was chosen to be one of the very people his grandfather had decided to fight against. Dragonriding had barely made it to the professions he had thought upon, but going to the Weyr would be a decisive strike, severing what few ties he had to his home.
Solace was a refuge. It was a future.
Hatchings have come and gone, but Arodolf has payed little mind to them. If his destiny did not come with a dragon, so be it. Here he could be himself, be independent, another face in the crowd and surrounded by whatever he chose to keep. The records were his haven, the anonymity was his savior.
And Jyrnan faded from memory.
Family:
Grandfather: Haetar, ex-Lord of Jyrnan Hold, deceased
Father: Ayreean, Holdless
Mother: Dolfina, Holdless
Siblings: Several, status unknowna