Noel
Nov 14, 2009 8:57:51 GMT -6
Post by Noel on Nov 14, 2009 8:57:51 GMT -6
Name:Noel
Class:Thief-Assassin
Hair Color: White
Eye Color: Silver
Age: 14
Appearance:
Short, white, ragged, and spiky hair; Noel is a boy of little etiquette. His frame is small and with no excess body fat. His muscles are just beginning to develop and weighing 140lb at 5'6 he provides little scare to those he faces. His skin is a dark even tan and his face is clean of any facial hair, in fact, the majority of his body is despite him never shaving.
Clothes:
Noel sports a sleeves black-t with a matching pair of wrinkled sweatpants, just fitted enough to avoid impaired movement. He has a same hued hood that he carries around in his small leather bag held to his back by two straps looping under his arms. His blade, if you could call it that, hoist itself horizontally at Noel's lower back. It his held in place, by two loops where a belt should be and hidden in a snow white sheath embellished with golden diamonds split vertically across the center. The weapon itself, is a depressing slim gray, extending for a meager two feet.
Born in: Sacae Plains
Story:
Born in the great plains of Sacae, Noel spent the majority of his life moving from place to place with his humbled mother and father. Back then, it was campfires and stories of wonder. This explication of a bigger world perhaps, is what made Noel so eager to leave the simple life of a nomad and explore. As a young boy of four, Noel was a quick learner and somewhat of a trouble maker. Never did anything bad, just came back a little too late for the worried heart of his mother. He was punished, and he'd apologize, say he'd never do it again, but when night fell this white haired child forgot everything and ran. Traversed the earth under the heavens in search of a place where his dreams and reality met.
Toward the later part of Noel's life, the young boy became interested in the sword. The blade was not a common practice in his family, but after hearing so many stories of heroes and legends, the boy couldn't help but wonder if he could become one of them. One of the few who lived on in the hearts and memories of those they inspired and mystified. One of the few who lived on an edge of life so sharp that a shifting step could mean the difference between life and death. He yearned to live and not as a quiet commoner or a proud noble, but rather as a king among warriors and what other way was a warrior to gain power than to hone his skill and seek battle. So beneath heaven's floral crown, he trained. Push-ups, crunches, and makeshift sword strokes that he didn't even know would work.
And after every tiring night, he dragged himself home, crawled into his tent, and slept a dream that only the dedicated could wish. Years passed and his father recognized his night ventures and one morning after just returning from a training session, Noel's father spoke to him. They talked for what seemed an eternity, of a future, of the past, and of the now. Noel's father could see his child's love for adventure and with a mournful goodbye sent him on his way. That night the three loved each other in a place where time failed to exist and with one last kiss, Noel left. He knew he'd return. He knew they'd meet again.
Where? How? When?
Hell, he didn't know. He barely knew himself. Didn't know where he was going. He just walked and never looked back. Somewhere in his valiant spirit, he yearned for their affection, but somewhere in this world, there was a place for people like him. He desired to find it, and one day in some place distant, however, tenderly close, he'd meet the two who'd raised him so well.
Class:Thief-Assassin
Hair Color: White
Eye Color: Silver
Age: 14
Appearance:
Short, white, ragged, and spiky hair; Noel is a boy of little etiquette. His frame is small and with no excess body fat. His muscles are just beginning to develop and weighing 140lb at 5'6 he provides little scare to those he faces. His skin is a dark even tan and his face is clean of any facial hair, in fact, the majority of his body is despite him never shaving.
Clothes:
Noel sports a sleeves black-t with a matching pair of wrinkled sweatpants, just fitted enough to avoid impaired movement. He has a same hued hood that he carries around in his small leather bag held to his back by two straps looping under his arms. His blade, if you could call it that, hoist itself horizontally at Noel's lower back. It his held in place, by two loops where a belt should be and hidden in a snow white sheath embellished with golden diamonds split vertically across the center. The weapon itself, is a depressing slim gray, extending for a meager two feet.
Born in: Sacae Plains
Story:
Born in the great plains of Sacae, Noel spent the majority of his life moving from place to place with his humbled mother and father. Back then, it was campfires and stories of wonder. This explication of a bigger world perhaps, is what made Noel so eager to leave the simple life of a nomad and explore. As a young boy of four, Noel was a quick learner and somewhat of a trouble maker. Never did anything bad, just came back a little too late for the worried heart of his mother. He was punished, and he'd apologize, say he'd never do it again, but when night fell this white haired child forgot everything and ran. Traversed the earth under the heavens in search of a place where his dreams and reality met.
Toward the later part of Noel's life, the young boy became interested in the sword. The blade was not a common practice in his family, but after hearing so many stories of heroes and legends, the boy couldn't help but wonder if he could become one of them. One of the few who lived on in the hearts and memories of those they inspired and mystified. One of the few who lived on an edge of life so sharp that a shifting step could mean the difference between life and death. He yearned to live and not as a quiet commoner or a proud noble, but rather as a king among warriors and what other way was a warrior to gain power than to hone his skill and seek battle. So beneath heaven's floral crown, he trained. Push-ups, crunches, and makeshift sword strokes that he didn't even know would work.
And after every tiring night, he dragged himself home, crawled into his tent, and slept a dream that only the dedicated could wish. Years passed and his father recognized his night ventures and one morning after just returning from a training session, Noel's father spoke to him. They talked for what seemed an eternity, of a future, of the past, and of the now. Noel's father could see his child's love for adventure and with a mournful goodbye sent him on his way. That night the three loved each other in a place where time failed to exist and with one last kiss, Noel left. He knew he'd return. He knew they'd meet again.
Where? How? When?
Hell, he didn't know. He barely knew himself. Didn't know where he was going. He just walked and never looked back. Somewhere in his valiant spirit, he yearned for their affection, but somewhere in this world, there was a place for people like him. He desired to find it, and one day in some place distant, however, tenderly close, he'd meet the two who'd raised him so well.