Post by Wolfe on Oct 2, 2017 18:04:20 GMT
Desmond Wolfe
Age: 29
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 234lbs
Hair Colour: Raven Black
Eye Colour: Emerald
Detailed Description
A weathered young man stood before you, defiant and strong against whatever his current opposer would be. The more you watched this survivor, the more you gained the impression he was false of heart, a man with a mask. Wolfe had emerald eyes that were lightning in colour and movement; this caused an uncertainty of whether or not it was paranoia or alertness that he wore; regardless he seemed to be a closed book to those who would delve in to his past.
Usually wearing a bitter, reserved expression upon his rigid chin, Wolfe would have been seen as a very handsome man, his youthful skin holding few scars and no blemishes. His composure seemed second to none, disciplined and concentrated. He was often seen either alone, seemingly deep in thought, or some type of consideration; but that wasn't to say that he wasn't one for chatting. Despite his hardy exterior, he seemed the sociable type.
His garb was often well tied together, usually mixing blacks with browns. The clothing was always in fair condition, meticulously clean and promptly repaired. With a scrappy hood that hung low over his features, casting a shadow over his chiseled face, Wolfe's raven hair was always effortlessly styled into a fashionable mix of bed-head and short, wavy lengths that stuck in place with the help of what one would assume to be beeswax.
It was no doubt this man was a warrior, scar tissue dotted his sculpted body and told story upon story of bloodlust and pain. His body was trained, a picturesque image of the human male. Strong, agile, and hearty, this man seemed more than a handful. Upon the outside of his right bicep is a bold, scarred circle of wrinkled, discoloured flesh. Black like charcoal, it's a simple large circle that seemed to have been branded to his arm.
The Father of Swords: The gargantuan piece of art, more a cleaver than any sword would claim, The Father of Swords was a blade of legendary proportions with a honed edge that proved more sculpted than ground down; convex by nature but marred by the constant clashing of opposing weapons. The titan sized blade seemed designed to rend its victim, tearing deep before the sheer weight would carry the blade deeper; more often straight through creatures and items of lesser stature. If it was not for the mortifyingly keen, serrated edge, one would have taken it for a weapon of bludgeoning intent.
Brief Backstory
Born from the corpse of his lynched mother underneath a hanging tree, where he is left to die alone in a mire of blood and afterbirth.
A mercenary group lead by a man named Viktor eventually happens upon the grisly site, presuming the infant to be dead. When the baby wails, however, to the surprise of the mercenaries, an acquaintance of Viktor's immediately takes to the child and comes to his aid. Viktor would allow the woman to keep the infant boy for her own personal consolation, despite the circumstances of his birth being considered ominous by his men. Four years later, the woman would contract the plague, dying as he looked on as a young boy.
With the loss of his surrogate mother, Viktor, wanting nothing to do with the young boy, decided to put him to work.
As a mercenary, the boy was useless unless he could fight, so Viktor taught him to fight at the age of three. Having no swords smaller than himself he was forced to use a sword much larger than he was. Under Viktor's tutelage, the young boy who had been given the name Desmond, began honing his swordsmanship at six years of age, and would join the mercenary's band three years later, looking up to his leader as a father figure of sorts. On the night following his first skirmish, a mercenary named Duncan ambushes and rapes Desmond in his tent, revealing he bought the boy for a night from Viktor, the leader of the mercenaries. In a following skirmish, Desmond isolates Duncan and eliminates him, refusing to believe he man's claim from the previous night.
A few years go by, and Desmond has taken up leadership as Commander over one of the units within the band of mercenaries. Viktor, having lost his leg in one of the battles over the years, began to neglect Desmond and their relationship immediately deteriorated. From verbal to physical abuse, Desmond was subjected to various forms of degradation before Viktor eventually made an attempt on his life. Possessed of the notion he is the reason for his misfortune, Viktor reveals he did indeed sell Desmond out to Duncan, voicing his disgust for the boy's existence. Heavily disheartended by this revelation, Desmond retaliates and kills his assailant - the closest thing to a father he had ever known.
Consequently attacked by Viktors men and branded a father killer, he flees the encampment with aggressors on his tail, eventually running into a dead end and being pushed off a cliff side. From his high fall and a bout with a pack of wolves below, he falls unconscious, eventually being discovered by and enlisted as a child soldier in another mercenary band that happens upon him, branding him in the process and giving him the name 'Wolfe'. By the time he was a full grown adult, he was swinging a six feet long, one and a half inch sword that was not even sharp. He then went on from battlefield to battlefield as a hired mercenary for a few years before drifting away seeking more for himself and his weapon, the Father of Swords. Wolfe only trusted in that of his broadsword as through all he had been through growing up, the sword had never betrayed him and was always there to protect him.
The New Wolfe
Known for his air of austerity, Wolfe is a gruff, cynical man holding an overall bleak outlook on life. This is a consequence of having endured waves of suffering and numerous betrayals since his youth, with nearly all highlights of his life having, in time, become lows. In spite of his guarded, brooding exterior, he has always been soft-hearted and, ultimately, a kind and caring individual, being no stranger to his share of witty remarks and sarcasm. Even as his inner darkness festers deep within him and its temptation becomes increasingly harder to resist, he retains his empathy and compassion, refusing to completely discard his humanity. In his formative years, Wolfe was devoid of true purpose in life, killing as a child mercenary merely as a means to survive. As a blank slate, he often found himself seeking validation from those he respected most, content so long as one person had looked his way. The swordsman then embarks on a journey of self-discovery, in which he comes to acknowledge his lifelong bond with and passion for the sword. Upon realizing this, he begins devoting himself to honing his craft and fighting ever stronger adversaries – having found his newfound purpose in life.
Age: 29
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 234lbs
Hair Colour: Raven Black
Eye Colour: Emerald
Detailed Description
A weathered young man stood before you, defiant and strong against whatever his current opposer would be. The more you watched this survivor, the more you gained the impression he was false of heart, a man with a mask. Wolfe had emerald eyes that were lightning in colour and movement; this caused an uncertainty of whether or not it was paranoia or alertness that he wore; regardless he seemed to be a closed book to those who would delve in to his past.
Usually wearing a bitter, reserved expression upon his rigid chin, Wolfe would have been seen as a very handsome man, his youthful skin holding few scars and no blemishes. His composure seemed second to none, disciplined and concentrated. He was often seen either alone, seemingly deep in thought, or some type of consideration; but that wasn't to say that he wasn't one for chatting. Despite his hardy exterior, he seemed the sociable type.
His garb was often well tied together, usually mixing blacks with browns. The clothing was always in fair condition, meticulously clean and promptly repaired. With a scrappy hood that hung low over his features, casting a shadow over his chiseled face, Wolfe's raven hair was always effortlessly styled into a fashionable mix of bed-head and short, wavy lengths that stuck in place with the help of what one would assume to be beeswax.
It was no doubt this man was a warrior, scar tissue dotted his sculpted body and told story upon story of bloodlust and pain. His body was trained, a picturesque image of the human male. Strong, agile, and hearty, this man seemed more than a handful. Upon the outside of his right bicep is a bold, scarred circle of wrinkled, discoloured flesh. Black like charcoal, it's a simple large circle that seemed to have been branded to his arm.
The Father of Swords: The gargantuan piece of art, more a cleaver than any sword would claim, The Father of Swords was a blade of legendary proportions with a honed edge that proved more sculpted than ground down; convex by nature but marred by the constant clashing of opposing weapons. The titan sized blade seemed designed to rend its victim, tearing deep before the sheer weight would carry the blade deeper; more often straight through creatures and items of lesser stature. If it was not for the mortifyingly keen, serrated edge, one would have taken it for a weapon of bludgeoning intent.
Brief Backstory
Born from the corpse of his lynched mother underneath a hanging tree, where he is left to die alone in a mire of blood and afterbirth.
A mercenary group lead by a man named Viktor eventually happens upon the grisly site, presuming the infant to be dead. When the baby wails, however, to the surprise of the mercenaries, an acquaintance of Viktor's immediately takes to the child and comes to his aid. Viktor would allow the woman to keep the infant boy for her own personal consolation, despite the circumstances of his birth being considered ominous by his men. Four years later, the woman would contract the plague, dying as he looked on as a young boy.
With the loss of his surrogate mother, Viktor, wanting nothing to do with the young boy, decided to put him to work.
As a mercenary, the boy was useless unless he could fight, so Viktor taught him to fight at the age of three. Having no swords smaller than himself he was forced to use a sword much larger than he was. Under Viktor's tutelage, the young boy who had been given the name Desmond, began honing his swordsmanship at six years of age, and would join the mercenary's band three years later, looking up to his leader as a father figure of sorts. On the night following his first skirmish, a mercenary named Duncan ambushes and rapes Desmond in his tent, revealing he bought the boy for a night from Viktor, the leader of the mercenaries. In a following skirmish, Desmond isolates Duncan and eliminates him, refusing to believe he man's claim from the previous night.
A few years go by, and Desmond has taken up leadership as Commander over one of the units within the band of mercenaries. Viktor, having lost his leg in one of the battles over the years, began to neglect Desmond and their relationship immediately deteriorated. From verbal to physical abuse, Desmond was subjected to various forms of degradation before Viktor eventually made an attempt on his life. Possessed of the notion he is the reason for his misfortune, Viktor reveals he did indeed sell Desmond out to Duncan, voicing his disgust for the boy's existence. Heavily disheartended by this revelation, Desmond retaliates and kills his assailant - the closest thing to a father he had ever known.
Consequently attacked by Viktors men and branded a father killer, he flees the encampment with aggressors on his tail, eventually running into a dead end and being pushed off a cliff side. From his high fall and a bout with a pack of wolves below, he falls unconscious, eventually being discovered by and enlisted as a child soldier in another mercenary band that happens upon him, branding him in the process and giving him the name 'Wolfe'. By the time he was a full grown adult, he was swinging a six feet long, one and a half inch sword that was not even sharp. He then went on from battlefield to battlefield as a hired mercenary for a few years before drifting away seeking more for himself and his weapon, the Father of Swords. Wolfe only trusted in that of his broadsword as through all he had been through growing up, the sword had never betrayed him and was always there to protect him.
The New Wolfe
Known for his air of austerity, Wolfe is a gruff, cynical man holding an overall bleak outlook on life. This is a consequence of having endured waves of suffering and numerous betrayals since his youth, with nearly all highlights of his life having, in time, become lows. In spite of his guarded, brooding exterior, he has always been soft-hearted and, ultimately, a kind and caring individual, being no stranger to his share of witty remarks and sarcasm. Even as his inner darkness festers deep within him and its temptation becomes increasingly harder to resist, he retains his empathy and compassion, refusing to completely discard his humanity. In his formative years, Wolfe was devoid of true purpose in life, killing as a child mercenary merely as a means to survive. As a blank slate, he often found himself seeking validation from those he respected most, content so long as one person had looked his way. The swordsman then embarks on a journey of self-discovery, in which he comes to acknowledge his lifelong bond with and passion for the sword. Upon realizing this, he begins devoting himself to honing his craft and fighting ever stronger adversaries – having found his newfound purpose in life.
(Do be gentle, as i've not had to type up anything like this for a very long time. Improvisation was key to success here)