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| Panahasi Joberie - male- Tainted candidate | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 25 2013, 07:57 AM (452 Views) | |
| Chirpadee | Jan 25 2013, 07:57 AM Post #1 |
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behold her lovely plumage
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Character Number- Name- Panahasi Joberie Age- 21 Gender- Male Sexuality- Afraid of physical contact, so it is hard to tell. Pansexual if there must be an answer. Appearance- The boy is pale as the moon. His skin is so white it is near translucent and in many places you can trace the blue of his veins. His form is fit and healthy, despite the slight scrawniness of living in tainted lands. Not a single freckle mars his skin making him look somewhat ethereal and strange. He is somewhat effeminate with smooth features and a ‘pretty’ face. His bone structure is subtle leaving him looking somewhere between a child and a man, not yet fully come into his body. Yet there is a haunting beauty about him, the kind that would leave women soul sick if not for that dark gleam in his eyes. His face seems to be his finest feature. His eyes are dark, so dark they seem like a moonless sky, deep blue or perhaps violet lingers in their depths, only able to be seen under direct light. It is a strange shadow against his pale skin and even paler hair. His locks are long, and always kept braided behind his head. They are platinum blonde, so much so they nearly seem white. However his angelic features once progressed beyond his face, but no longer. Beneath his simple clothes lay a world of scars. His front and back are covered in thin lines; his arms are smattered with burns from something indefinable, though clearly they were intentional from their frequency. These burns run right up his shoulders and a single one mars the right side of his neck. The most disturbing of these markings is a very clear brand on his left hip. The marking appears to be a rose with the letters RF, the initials of the woman who owned him when he was captive. However the letters have been obscured somewhat by deep scars where the boy has tried to rid himself of her name. He wears long sleeves to cover the damage and gets very uncomfortable when left exposed around other people. He is best with improvised weapons though he always keeps a particularly sharp dagger on him. It is tucked away and out of sight, but do not expect to catch him without it. You never know when you need a good sharp knife after all. He uses it for everything and when he is thinking he often strokes the hilt. Personality- Careful Panahasi. He is cautious in his every gesture. Every word and movement seems planned out and thought through before it happens. He seems permanently settled on the outside, ever quiet and calm. Years of training allow him to put on a mask no matter his inner turmoil and face whatever he sees with such a sense of serene grace it is disturbing. It as if someone filled a doll with a soul and masked it with a beautiful face. The world might crumble around him and he would remain the same, placid expression leaving a void where life should be. Internally is another matter. The man is a hotbed of emotion. His moods swing so quickly it is hard to keep up. His mind never seems made on an issue until he is tackling it. He is hasty when he decides upon something, acting rashly under the guise of well crafted thought. Whenever he makes a move it is usually unplanned. It is a testament to his resourcefulness and the madness that settled around him like a cloak. His eyes are perhaps the only thing that gives his inner darkness away, the willingness to kill that lingers there unspoken, but ever present. There lingers the glint of a man who has watched another human as they perish by his own hands. The boy is not afraid of violence and his willingness is nearly frightening. He spent his young life confined and now, with the taste of freedom on his lips, he fights tooth and claw. A fact that is unsettled given the calm exterior demeanor. Yet he does understand patience. He waited years for his first kill and he was not afraid to repeat the gesture. Patience is the harbor his churning sea of hate beats against. Yet when he has an advantage he strikes, without hesitation. When he needs something he is liable to play polite and then stab someone in the back a moment later. That is not to say the boy does not fear. On the contrary he fears many things, almost to a fault. He fears confinement, death, pain, and the powerful monsters that roam the land he has claimed as his home. This fear is what he thinks makes him alive. This fear drives him to keep fighting and to kill when he has to. He knows by bonding to a dragon he can extend his life and protect his person. He could shed his fear of mortality like a second skin and find safety he might otherwise be denied. In this he could keep his other fears closer at hand, a tool to make him struggle harder to survive. Pan, being brought up in a life of slavery, is very good at being unobtrusive. He is quiet in gesture and has been trained to be invisible in a room full of people; he can stand silently holding heavy objects for long periods of time, despite his rather narrow build. There is more muscle in him then it looks. His grace is in word and action and he uses this skill to a definite advantage. He is humble when he sees someone superior, and cautious when others seem to bare the same skills as himself. However if his target turns their back long enough, he will rob them blind and perhaps leave them dead. The dragons he reveres, he knows in them he will find what he is looking for. There is no fighting with a dragon when you are just one lad after all. He has a massive fear of being undressed in front of strangers. His body is riddled with scars from the angry lash of his previous master. Burns line his arms and a brand even marks his left hip, as if he were cattle. He does not show this to anyone, and if it is seen he gets defensive. His past life is just that, after all, a past life. Now his only goal is to bond to a dragon so he might know safety. He knew himself unsuited for the sekkians, he was too willing to kill, and too unwilling to meld into their rules. So he went to the taint, they need not steal the boy, he came as quiet as a lamb. Truthfully he is a wolf dressed in the skin of such a creature, waiting for the adequate time to strike. Rank- Tainted Candidate History- To say Panahasi lived a good life is a falsehood too large to speak. His mother did not want him. She was unwed and poor when she gave birth. She had been pretty but ill used by men. Pan had been something she never wanted. Yet in that unwanted babe was beauty not unlike her own. She raised him until he was five, getting him to an age where he could speak and understand orders. The cost of filling a second mouth was too high and her income was too low. She hated him, the mere sight of the beautiful child twisted her gut. So she traveled with him into the desert. Pan was a quiet child, he knew his mother did not care for him as most mothers cared for their own, but he loved her all the same. It was when they ventured deep into the swirling sands he began to realize something was wrong. For days they traveled, right to the heart of an oasis where a town had formed. They stopped in the market and Panahasi stared in awe at the camels while his mother talked with a strange man. A child does not bother with such things. Then the man approached. He pawed over Pan like he was a piece of meat. He checked his teeth, his skin, and his eyes. Then he named a price. Uncertain Panahasi turned to his mother. She did not even bother to haggle. She took the coin and spun to go. Pan turned to follow but was stopped. He panicked and began to scream, but she never looked back. That was the last time he saw her, a retreating back getting rid of her unwanted get. The next eleven years became a blur. He was trained to be a slave, his life was descent. When he was well behaved he got to sleep indoors, and when he was bad he was left in cages with the rest of the rabble. After all he was pretty and there was large money in a beautiful slave. He was raised to be the perfect accessory, nothing more than a pretty toy for some rich fool who could afford such a luxury. He thought little of his mother once he understood what she had done. He did not blame her, she did what she had to survive and she had never wanted him anyways. He carried out his trained duties with the ease of years of practice and by the age of fifteen he was deemed ready to sell. His auction was a private event, one that had been announced to a choice clientele long before the actual date. The room held only ten people at most and most seemed uninterested in affairs until he was brought out. They had scrubbed him hard the night before, removing all signs of dirt. He had allowed it and suffered little from it. Tonight he would go to a new life, something away from the heavy hand of the slave traders. He was dolled up in fine clothes, made to look stately, and then he was carted out to his awaiting audience. They ooed and awed at the rare specimen, raised for their every need. He was a pale jewel in the desert, something that could be flaunted above their peers. He was a beautiful painting that would serve you. The bidding war began. When the clamor died down a couple stepped forward to claim their prize. The lord Fulmant was a plump man with a great mustache and his beautiful wife, the lady Rosaline. He was clearly rich, but it was not the man who had placed the bids. As it turned out Panahasi was to be the lady’s birthday gift. The next three years were mostly uneventful. He listened carefully, always learning about the gossip that spread through the realm. He was unobtrusive as a shadow and filled their every want. He was only punished when he had done something foolish like stain something or broke anything. It was about as good a life as he could expect. He was granted a small room to himself with a stiff cot and harsh sheets, but it was his. The lord was a skilled merchant and away often, and when he was Pan was the lady Rosaline Fulmant’s full time companion. He carried her parasol or packages when she went out, he served her lunch. He found the longer he was with her the more she wanted him around. As he reached his eighteenth birthday her eyes began to linger on him more and more. Each day he grew more and more handsome. His dark eyes held a mystery she just couldn’t breach. He was the forbidden fruit and she was eve. When he reached his maturity her hands began to wander while her husband was away. Pan hated her for it. He had been content to serve, but his body had been his own. Day by day it became worse. She would demand things of him, whispered dirty things in his ear that turned his stomach. she faded in her beauty while he blossomed. Oft times his body betrayed his true wants and being property he did not have a say. In time her husband began to take notice of his wife’s affection and became jealous. The man became bitter, and being rich he was able to make the boy’s life miserable. At first it was small things, he would buy particularly heavy things and force Pan to carry them. This he could abide. He preferred this to the touches of his mistress. The woman was not a kind lover to an unwilling slave. This mild hate turned to loathing when Rosaline stopped caring if her husband knew. She flaunted Pan before the lord as a matador waves a flag before a bull. Soon enough Lord Fulmant became so enraged that he beat the boy for more and more trivial things. Panahasi was well trained though; he took each beating with a grain of salt. He hated them then. With the husband’s cruel punishments and the wife’s demand for satisfaction that Pan did not share. He was trapped in a situation that was spiraling out of control. The more Rosaline abused his body sexually, the more her husband beat him. It began to escalate, slowly at first, but soon enough Lord Fulmant was using Panahasi as his ashtray for fine cigars, putting them out on his arms and shoulders. Panahasi was beginning to look less attractive. The beatings became so severe that he would be forced to take days of rest. Despite the pain these were the days he most hoped for. Rosaline would be forced to leave him in peace and her husband had nothing to hate him for. Finally he could stand the treatment no longer. After a particularly bad session with Fulmont the boy went to fetch dinner and simply disappeared through the back of the kitchens. He told the staff he was drawing water from the well and fled. He knew some districts of the city and he spirited through them. It was not nightfall before an armed contingent of guards found him huddled in the hovels near the edge of town. He was carted back to the house and beaten severely. Lord Fulmont saw this as an opportunity. He tried to convince his wife to sell the boy, but she would have none of it. She loved her quiet little play toy. The rage boiled within Pan and again he fled. The second time they beat him so severely he took ill and had to be mended by a doctor. It was his third escape attempt when Lord Fulmont became so enrage he grabbed the brand for his animal stock and warped Pan’s skin forever. It was a sickly thing with the smell of flesh and hair burning filling the room. He remembered screaming, or perhaps it was the lady of the house who was forced to watch. Pan did not bother running again. He was too tired of the pain. He feared that brand which haunted his dreams like some living monster. Yet he did not give up. In fact the fear it instilled in his heart drove him to madness. He needed to escape them, the woman who so wanted his body and forced herself upon him, forced him to perform depraved acts he wanted none of. He was sick of the lord who abused him for unwontedly holding the lady’s interest. So he began to plot. The next few weeks passed slowly. The household settled into a routine once more once Pan stopped running. Cautiously he stole a dagger from the nightstand of his lord while the man slept. He was too fearful to attack right away and such a trifle was not missed in a large estate like this one. He hid the glinting thing beneath his mattress and laid awake into the long hours of the night wondering if he could do it. The next day Lord Fulmont used his neck to snub out a particularly hot cigar and the boy decided. A hardness settled into his eyes as Lady Rosaline stole into his chambers that night and muttered about her husband being a fool. No, Panahasi thought, it is you who are the fool. As she stripped away his clothes Pan watched as if beyond anything she might do. When she lay on the bed, naked as a babe, he slid over her and pulled the knife free. It was so easy. It hardly took any force. As she reached for him he slid the blade of the dagger across her throat in one quick action and the blood silenced her. She gargled and stared up at the boy she had thought her content lover for so long. He stared back without a hint of pity, “You should have stopped him.” Was all he said to her as she left this world. As always he stood impassive and watched her with eyes like the darkest night. When she stopped twitching he cleaned the dagger on her dress and pulled his own clothing back on. He slunk through the dark house like a shade and fell upon the master’s bedchamber. He cut lord Fulmont’s throat while he slept, the man deserved no better. Realizing he had not planned an escape he stole some of food from the kitchens while the staff slept and a horse from the stables. His flight was long, and they followed. Every time he stopped guards were on his heels. Every time he rested they grew closer. His paranoia grew daily as he hid from enemies who haunted his every step. A slave simply did not kill his wealthy masters and walk away. Fearful for his life, and knowing no right minded sekkain would have him he killed a poor man and stole his home, somewhere deep in the woods along the far edge of the world. He cast his lot in with the taint, seeing the only route to safety from persecution was a dragon which would protect him. To hell if it was violent. He could handle violence, he had for years under his jealous master and his whore of a wife. He was not going to die like some twisted child in the cold. He was stronger than that and he was going to make those people pay for what they had done to him. If he could meet his mother he would kill her too for putting him there, in a place where he had been so warped by their training, by their horrible gluttonous personalities that he himself had rotted on the inside. No the tainted army was all that was left for him. Pet(s)- none The Dragon Name- Glaive Age- 3 years Gender- Male Element- Metal -Iron Appearance- Glaive looks every bit the monster he is. He is covered from nose tip to tail in thick iron plating. Not an inch of him is unprotected. His head is angular and his body far bulkier then most of his metal counterparts. He is titanic for his breed, topping the very largest end of the scale. If his armor isn’t enough to put off would be attackers perhaps the fact he seems to be just coated in bladed weapons will. His head is the most noticeable, a massive, razor sharp blade soars upwards and gives him a Mohawk of metal. It stops at the base of his neck only to have the defense picked up by twin rows of twisting, jutting metal. This metal holds all the appearance of razor wire, as if he were an old tree and his plating simply grew over the wire leaving only barbs exposed. His tail is capped in a blade that would make the most hardened of warriors jealous. The bottom is a smooth consistent blade but the top is jagged so depending on the direction he swings it will determine the cleanness of the blow. If that weren’t enough all four legs had upwards pointing short sharp blades to snag into the flesh of his victims and keep them from escaping. Under those gruesome prey holds were raking claws as sharp as any weapon just waiting to rip a throat. The final blade is perhaps the most unnerving of all. A long, wide blade attatches to the thumb joint of his wing and extends far past where a claw might end. Independent of the wing he does not need to change his flight to change the angle of the blade. His head is crowed by massive iron horns that loop back then arch forward around his face framing his cold iron visage. However compared to the rest of his arsenal they merely add to his threatening display. The right side of his face is marred by a jagged scar that cuts through his top lip and splits it clean. The mark reaches upwards to the gum line exposing a line of pink flesh. In the gap two of his pointed teeth are missing, a gift from his rider from their first lesson. However where many dragons might look funny with such a gap, he looks even more deadly and intimating. Rust meanders over his scales here and there, despite how young he is. It gives the male a hardened appearance and the appearance of age even where he lacks it. The whole package is topped with a set of eyes that blaze like a forge. Their true color is a bright, burnt orange. However in the light they appear flame bright and flair gold from the pupil. The exterior darkens to near red giving his gaze a powerful quality in his dark set face. With a glower and a near constant sneer the dragon is anything but friendly looking. Personality- Glaive has a personality to mirror his appearance. He is cold and cruel as the iron he is cast from. Loyalty and alliances only last as long as they are useful to him. Getting close or attempting to be chummy is about as advisable as making friends with a crocodile. He is a war machine and knows he can handle whatever the world throws at him. He is militant to a fault, treating his rider and any he believes below him—which is everyone—as lesser beings not worthy of his attention. This is probably better for these dragons and humans; if he did interact with them the likelihood is he would be trying to eat them. He sees emotions as for the weak and has no place for them. He is frustrated with his rider because while the boy started out avoiding contact he has begun to reach out. Glaive is willing to tolerate this only so long as the actions of Pan are helpful to him. As soon as he decides the friendship gets him nothing he will whisk the boy back to solidarity. He does have interest in his rider. However it is not compassion as most dragons experience it, even most tainted beasts have more consideration then he. He sees Panahasi as his brother in arms, destined to rise to greatness with the help of his Glaive. Yet the boy often falls short of his lofty expectations and this frustrates him to the point of near eruption. After all he is supposed to be in control of the partnership and any time the human seizes it he becomes enraged. So far pan has been too useful to kill, but that may change in the future.
User Information Username- Chirpadee Contact- PM and stuff I guess Yourself- ALL THE DRAGONS ARE BELONG TO ME *bellows*. How did you find Sekkai? Arts by the Kai before she vanished because of a busy. |
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| SemperMemor | Jan 25 2013, 03:30 PM Post #2 |
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Majestic Space Duck
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[align=center]Accepted![/align] |
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| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
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