Post by Cronos on Feb 12, 2008 21:58:48 GMT -5
FundamentalsViggo Mortenson
Full name: Leonado Evan Stone
Nickname:Leo
Birthday: June 25th
Age: 23
Gender Male
AppearanceGeneral: He is a rather dashing man for his age, the ladies are all most favoritably attracted to him (the adult ladies, that is). He wears his dark brown hair to his shoulders. His eyes are a bright, piercing green and however his teeth are not white, they are sort of a cream color and he would be that much more handsome if they were bright white. He is a rather tall man, standing at 6'2" and weighing in at 160 pounds. He is physically fit and likes exercise of most kinds.
Favorite:(there was some confusion about this and the one below it. This should be their favourite aspect of their appearance.) His height and slight but strong build.
Hate: (This should be their least favourite.) His off-white colored teeth.
Heritage: British
Ethnicity: White
Personality
Quiet
Reserved
Watchful,
Smart-clever-intelligent
Smug
Quick-witted
Rash
Reckless
Fearless
Arrogant
Heedless
"big brother"
protective
Ethical: Moral
Loyal
FunnyGeneral:
Hobbies:
Riding, magic, running, training horses, teaching, hanging out with friends.
Dislikes:
Sheep, bussel sprouts, making a fool of himself, The Beach Boys, the thought of getting older, the hot sun, helmets, safety vests, medical arm bands.
Likes:
Origins/HistoryGeneral:
Parents: Addam and Holly Stone
Siblings: Constance Stone (sister) (18)
Other:
RoleplayingSample:
Cling! Clang! The sounds of metal swords made of spring steel echoed throughout the cove and the beach. Cling Cling Clang. They rang out again. Then there was the awful sound of one blade scraping down another. To any listener’s ear, it would sound as if two noble fencers were battling against each other in a fair fight, but sight would turn audio into a lying knave, as one’s eyes would reveal the truth.
Pirate boots dung into the sand, covered with barnacles and other remnants of the sea, the sand which it dung into flew over the tops of the suede brown leather, worn from use. Many of these boots slide about in the sand, accompanying each other in their deadly ballet. Two boots of smooth, polished black leather sought for support in the sand, but they were seeking alliance with an undecided and unloyal allay. Two silver spurs glinted in the sunlight; they were attached to the backs of the smooth black leather boots, which whirled around lightly on the sand, despite the material being extremely incorporative with the boots.
As the observer’s gaze was to move up the fast-moving boots, they would behold five men, four of them wearing the brown suede boots, and one lone youth sporting the horseman’s attire and wielding a spring steel Gaelic Claymore, his blade slicing through the air so fast it was only visible to the naked eye in the form of a silver blur.
The youth who wielded it was clad simply in sable and scarlet, ebony breeches were under his tall black boots with the spurs and a white shirt with long sleeves was on his chest. There was scant embroidery on the cuffs, as the minor detail, but a minor detail of one of royal blood. Over his white shirt he wore a dark brown leather vest, which had a tickle of blood spilling down the front, staining the color to a dark, depressing maroon. Around his vest, he wore a slender black leather belt, worn and well used. His white shirt was collared and the stiff lapels had been dampened and made limp by his sweat and blood.
His face was handsome and finely-chiseled by its sculptor. Nothing marred it except a small white scare above his eyebrow which was barely visible. Streaks of dirt, sweat, and blood ran down it, giving its skin a dark, filthy look. His teeth were not bright white, but of a cream hue, a fault to his fine appearance, but they were barred in anger, as a tiger’s would be barred, just as if the tiger was about to tear his prey to bits. He was a slender youth, no taller then five feet and six inches, and he looked to weight in the neighborhood of about one hundred and twenty pounds. His name was Peregrine Alexander, King of Numell and prince of Scotland.
The four pirates all had their blades drawn against the young king, three against one. Yet luckily for Peregrine, it was a fair match. Fighting back valiantly, he was able to keep all three pirates at bay. One was dressed in yellow and black and had a long messy beard and hair of the color of mustard; he had the appearance of a hornet. His eyes were large and luminous, but his nose was small and shriveled and his chest and legs were enormous in size in comparison to his skinny, pinched waist.
The second pirate was large man who was beardless but huge in size. Huge hands wielded a cutlass larger then any broadsword. His face could be likened to that of a giant. The features so large they looked blurry and distorted. And his feet seemed to cause miniscule earthquakes on the ground. He seemed to be standing at eight feet tall, perhaps he weighed three hundred pounds. However big he was, he looked as if he was a formidable enemy.
The third man was smaller then the rest, almost Peregrine’s size. He had a small black mustache and beard, trimmed with the care of an Englishman. His eyes were dark and beady, and his features sharply carved, his expressions harsh. His body was small, light and fast, and his cutlass was a sharp as a razor straight from the wet stone. These three were all converged on Peregrine.
There was a clatter as the cutlass of the wasp pirate flew from his hand as Peregrine’s sword, Revenger, emerged victorious from the scene. Instantly, the giant swung a blow at him, which Peregrine avoided, swinging out of the way like some nimble monkey or sprightly pixie, but it was right into the welcoming blade of small man, which cut him along his cheek. For a moment the injured area merely became red, but then blood seeped from the wound. In a rage, Peregrine engaged Revenger with the blade of the pirate, who, with a grin, exerted pressure on his own sword, more then happy to engage in this duel of death. The next thing Peregrine heard was the whistle of metal coming through the air and he jumped out of the way just in time as giant pirate’s sword swung at him again. He turned back to the small pirate and gave him three hard, strong blows, driving him back. He repeated his actions, enjoying his superior skill until the man was backed up against a pine tree nearly defenseless. He was barely able to move his sword, and the whites of his eyes were showing in fear. Peregrine had raised the pommel of his sword in order to knock the man unconscious when he felt another body slam into him. The breathe was knocked from his body as the wasp pirate knocked him to the ground.
Peregrine scrambled to the best angle he could, before he was forced to raise his weapon and defend himself. Whack! Clang! Clang! The echoing sound of metal being slammed upon metal rang out again. Peregrine’s muscles ached, and his opponent was at a better angle to kill him then he was to kill the pirate. Besides, giant pirate and small pirate both were raising their swords to kill him. He knew pirates followed no chivalrous code. The words “play fair” weren’t even in a pirate’s vocabulary. Cheating was not even allowed, it was expected and encouraged.
In a desperate gamble, Peregrine jammed his blade under his body and rolled over, knowing that at any second he could feel the cold metal piercing through his flesh. He would have shuddered at that thought, but he did not, he couldn’t even spare the time. But at the end of his swift roll over, he emerged unscathed, raising Revenger again to duel with the pirates. He stuck blows and parried a few blows with each of them. Then, all of a sudden, one gave a yell and ran from the spot, the others following him, sprinting away.
“FILTHY COWARDS!!” Peregrine roared. Raising Revenger high above his dark-haired head, he persuaded them across the sandy beach and through the tropical garden they led him through, knocking over baskets, bowls, and trampling plants as they went, with Peregrine in their wake, being just as careless.
There was silence. Not letting down his guard or his weapon, Peregrine surveyed his surrounding suspiciously. He had no inkling to where they could be as they had seemingly vanished into thin air. Then a rough curse gave them away. All three outlaws were standing upon a rooftop.
“COWARDS!” Peregrine yelled again. And without wasting another moment, he shot up the ladder leading to the rooftop and smiled, looking at them, his sword at the ready. The small pirate smiled back evilly, before dropping a lighted match on the thatched roof. Immediately the straw went up in flames just as the smile was wiped off Peregrine’s face. The pirates climbed down a ladder on the opposite side of the hut, knocking it down before Peregrine had a chance to follow them, and now he was trapped. One ladder the pirates had knocked down and the other was separated from him by the fast-advancing flames which too high to jump.
Bereft of all other options, Peregrine put his two front fingers into his mouth and blew as a high piercing sound was emitted. Moments later, the sound of galloping hooves was heard. Mighty, powerful hooves and aloud, challenging nigh, the battle cry of a war horse. Vollo had arrived.
Peregrine jumped as Vollo ran under the burning structure. And Vollo galloped back across the garden and beach, after the retreating pirates once more, with Peregrine astride him. Horse and rider made a mighty team, one which was not easily beaten.
Stopping of the sand, Vollo slid and then reared up, pawing the air and whinnying in challenge while Peregrine yelled and waved his sword around as the pirates stopped to look at them in renewed terror to see their enemy mounted upon a powerful steed. Suddenly, Peregrine felt a sharp pain in his shoulder and turned to see an arrow sticking from his shoulder. At once he felt drugged and sluggish, as if an intoxicating scent was being forced up his nose. Then he swayed in the saddle and fell, everything went black before he hit the ground.
Instantly, the pirates rushed forward upon seeing the fall of their enemy, but they had not taken an important detail into account. Vollo. When Peregrine had fallen, Vollo began to come back to earth, but before his front hooves had touched the ground, the wasp pirate ran under the belly of the great horse, and as he passed under Vollo’s hooves, one of them struck the pirate in the head. The wasp man fell dead to the ground, struck in the head by Vollo’s silver-shod hoof. The other two men froze in their paths leading toward Peregrine. Then he scampered over to their fallen comrade, lifted him between them, and literarily ran to the sea, bearing him with them.
There was silence as the youth lay upon the ground, wounded in the shoulder. His steed turned to him and sniffed his body, confused and bewildered to why his master had not leapt to his feet and commenced with waving his sword around by now. Then suddenly lightning split the sky and thunder rolled in the heavens. Rain poured down in torrents and something great in the sea rose up. It was a monster, with a long neck and a fish-like body. But its eyes were kind, a deep calming blue in comparison to its sharp rows of teeth. Down a little ways, the body was large and well developed, four marine fins propelling it along. The storm continued to unleash its fury upon the inhabitants before it as the monster bent its head under its nose touched Peregrine’s chest.
Vollo, though he had been unusually brave for any horse up to this point, couldn’t take it any more. The monster terrified him. He left out a horse’s terrified scream and bolted across the other side of the island, leaving his master alone with the monster.
Then the monster opened its jaws wide and put the human between them, not to eat, but gently, as if it was a lioness transporting her cubs. Then she raised her head and swam out to sea, bearing the injured human with her….
* * *
Peregrine felt water sloshing against his skin, vaguely his clothes were swirling around him and he was lying on something soft and flexible. He didn’t feel like moving from his comfortable position though, he would rather just lie asleep. There, wherever he was.
He was lying on the shore of a beach, the arrow still sticking out from his shoulder and the blood still all over his face. And still Vollo was nowhere to be seen. Before he lay the desolate ruins of what had once been a great city, but it was now ransacked and plundered by pirates, its former beauty in tatters…
Pirate boots dung into the sand, covered with barnacles and other remnants of the sea, the sand which it dung into flew over the tops of the suede brown leather, worn from use. Many of these boots slide about in the sand, accompanying each other in their deadly ballet. Two boots of smooth, polished black leather sought for support in the sand, but they were seeking alliance with an undecided and unloyal allay. Two silver spurs glinted in the sunlight; they were attached to the backs of the smooth black leather boots, which whirled around lightly on the sand, despite the material being extremely incorporative with the boots.
As the observer’s gaze was to move up the fast-moving boots, they would behold five men, four of them wearing the brown suede boots, and one lone youth sporting the horseman’s attire and wielding a spring steel Gaelic Claymore, his blade slicing through the air so fast it was only visible to the naked eye in the form of a silver blur.
The youth who wielded it was clad simply in sable and scarlet, ebony breeches were under his tall black boots with the spurs and a white shirt with long sleeves was on his chest. There was scant embroidery on the cuffs, as the minor detail, but a minor detail of one of royal blood. Over his white shirt he wore a dark brown leather vest, which had a tickle of blood spilling down the front, staining the color to a dark, depressing maroon. Around his vest, he wore a slender black leather belt, worn and well used. His white shirt was collared and the stiff lapels had been dampened and made limp by his sweat and blood.
His face was handsome and finely-chiseled by its sculptor. Nothing marred it except a small white scare above his eyebrow which was barely visible. Streaks of dirt, sweat, and blood ran down it, giving its skin a dark, filthy look. His teeth were not bright white, but of a cream hue, a fault to his fine appearance, but they were barred in anger, as a tiger’s would be barred, just as if the tiger was about to tear his prey to bits. He was a slender youth, no taller then five feet and six inches, and he looked to weight in the neighborhood of about one hundred and twenty pounds. His name was Peregrine Alexander, King of Numell and prince of Scotland.
The four pirates all had their blades drawn against the young king, three against one. Yet luckily for Peregrine, it was a fair match. Fighting back valiantly, he was able to keep all three pirates at bay. One was dressed in yellow and black and had a long messy beard and hair of the color of mustard; he had the appearance of a hornet. His eyes were large and luminous, but his nose was small and shriveled and his chest and legs were enormous in size in comparison to his skinny, pinched waist.
The second pirate was large man who was beardless but huge in size. Huge hands wielded a cutlass larger then any broadsword. His face could be likened to that of a giant. The features so large they looked blurry and distorted. And his feet seemed to cause miniscule earthquakes on the ground. He seemed to be standing at eight feet tall, perhaps he weighed three hundred pounds. However big he was, he looked as if he was a formidable enemy.
The third man was smaller then the rest, almost Peregrine’s size. He had a small black mustache and beard, trimmed with the care of an Englishman. His eyes were dark and beady, and his features sharply carved, his expressions harsh. His body was small, light and fast, and his cutlass was a sharp as a razor straight from the wet stone. These three were all converged on Peregrine.
There was a clatter as the cutlass of the wasp pirate flew from his hand as Peregrine’s sword, Revenger, emerged victorious from the scene. Instantly, the giant swung a blow at him, which Peregrine avoided, swinging out of the way like some nimble monkey or sprightly pixie, but it was right into the welcoming blade of small man, which cut him along his cheek. For a moment the injured area merely became red, but then blood seeped from the wound. In a rage, Peregrine engaged Revenger with the blade of the pirate, who, with a grin, exerted pressure on his own sword, more then happy to engage in this duel of death. The next thing Peregrine heard was the whistle of metal coming through the air and he jumped out of the way just in time as giant pirate’s sword swung at him again. He turned back to the small pirate and gave him three hard, strong blows, driving him back. He repeated his actions, enjoying his superior skill until the man was backed up against a pine tree nearly defenseless. He was barely able to move his sword, and the whites of his eyes were showing in fear. Peregrine had raised the pommel of his sword in order to knock the man unconscious when he felt another body slam into him. The breathe was knocked from his body as the wasp pirate knocked him to the ground.
Peregrine scrambled to the best angle he could, before he was forced to raise his weapon and defend himself. Whack! Clang! Clang! The echoing sound of metal being slammed upon metal rang out again. Peregrine’s muscles ached, and his opponent was at a better angle to kill him then he was to kill the pirate. Besides, giant pirate and small pirate both were raising their swords to kill him. He knew pirates followed no chivalrous code. The words “play fair” weren’t even in a pirate’s vocabulary. Cheating was not even allowed, it was expected and encouraged.
In a desperate gamble, Peregrine jammed his blade under his body and rolled over, knowing that at any second he could feel the cold metal piercing through his flesh. He would have shuddered at that thought, but he did not, he couldn’t even spare the time. But at the end of his swift roll over, he emerged unscathed, raising Revenger again to duel with the pirates. He stuck blows and parried a few blows with each of them. Then, all of a sudden, one gave a yell and ran from the spot, the others following him, sprinting away.
“FILTHY COWARDS!!” Peregrine roared. Raising Revenger high above his dark-haired head, he persuaded them across the sandy beach and through the tropical garden they led him through, knocking over baskets, bowls, and trampling plants as they went, with Peregrine in their wake, being just as careless.
There was silence. Not letting down his guard or his weapon, Peregrine surveyed his surrounding suspiciously. He had no inkling to where they could be as they had seemingly vanished into thin air. Then a rough curse gave them away. All three outlaws were standing upon a rooftop.
“COWARDS!” Peregrine yelled again. And without wasting another moment, he shot up the ladder leading to the rooftop and smiled, looking at them, his sword at the ready. The small pirate smiled back evilly, before dropping a lighted match on the thatched roof. Immediately the straw went up in flames just as the smile was wiped off Peregrine’s face. The pirates climbed down a ladder on the opposite side of the hut, knocking it down before Peregrine had a chance to follow them, and now he was trapped. One ladder the pirates had knocked down and the other was separated from him by the fast-advancing flames which too high to jump.
Bereft of all other options, Peregrine put his two front fingers into his mouth and blew as a high piercing sound was emitted. Moments later, the sound of galloping hooves was heard. Mighty, powerful hooves and aloud, challenging nigh, the battle cry of a war horse. Vollo had arrived.
Peregrine jumped as Vollo ran under the burning structure. And Vollo galloped back across the garden and beach, after the retreating pirates once more, with Peregrine astride him. Horse and rider made a mighty team, one which was not easily beaten.
Stopping of the sand, Vollo slid and then reared up, pawing the air and whinnying in challenge while Peregrine yelled and waved his sword around as the pirates stopped to look at them in renewed terror to see their enemy mounted upon a powerful steed. Suddenly, Peregrine felt a sharp pain in his shoulder and turned to see an arrow sticking from his shoulder. At once he felt drugged and sluggish, as if an intoxicating scent was being forced up his nose. Then he swayed in the saddle and fell, everything went black before he hit the ground.
Instantly, the pirates rushed forward upon seeing the fall of their enemy, but they had not taken an important detail into account. Vollo. When Peregrine had fallen, Vollo began to come back to earth, but before his front hooves had touched the ground, the wasp pirate ran under the belly of the great horse, and as he passed under Vollo’s hooves, one of them struck the pirate in the head. The wasp man fell dead to the ground, struck in the head by Vollo’s silver-shod hoof. The other two men froze in their paths leading toward Peregrine. Then he scampered over to their fallen comrade, lifted him between them, and literarily ran to the sea, bearing him with them.
There was silence as the youth lay upon the ground, wounded in the shoulder. His steed turned to him and sniffed his body, confused and bewildered to why his master had not leapt to his feet and commenced with waving his sword around by now. Then suddenly lightning split the sky and thunder rolled in the heavens. Rain poured down in torrents and something great in the sea rose up. It was a monster, with a long neck and a fish-like body. But its eyes were kind, a deep calming blue in comparison to its sharp rows of teeth. Down a little ways, the body was large and well developed, four marine fins propelling it along. The storm continued to unleash its fury upon the inhabitants before it as the monster bent its head under its nose touched Peregrine’s chest.
Vollo, though he had been unusually brave for any horse up to this point, couldn’t take it any more. The monster terrified him. He left out a horse’s terrified scream and bolted across the other side of the island, leaving his master alone with the monster.
Then the monster opened its jaws wide and put the human between them, not to eat, but gently, as if it was a lioness transporting her cubs. Then she raised her head and swam out to sea, bearing the injured human with her….
* * *
Peregrine felt water sloshing against his skin, vaguely his clothes were swirling around him and he was lying on something soft and flexible. He didn’t feel like moving from his comfortable position though, he would rather just lie asleep. There, wherever he was.
He was lying on the shore of a beach, the arrow still sticking out from his shoulder and the blood still all over his face. And still Vollo was nowhere to be seen. Before he lay the desolate ruins of what had once been a great city, but it was now ransacked and plundered by pirates, its former beauty in tatters…
