Post by Alexander on Mar 5, 2015 6:46:54 GMT
Alexander Havenheart
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“The road and the tale have both been long, would you not say so? The trip has been long and the cost has been high... but no great thing was ever attained easily. A long tale, like a tall Tower, must be built a stone at a time.”
the basics,
»»character full name: Alexander Havenheart
»»age: 25
»»gender: Male
»»sexual orientation: heterosexual
»»faction: Civilian
»»race: Human
»»powers: N/A
the appearance,
»»eyes: Deep pale blue
»»markings: A number of scar's from old bullet wounds, and a set of claw marks across his chest that have healed
but refuse to fade.
»»height: Six foot three
»»weight: Two hundred and fifteen pounds
»»general appearance: A tall young man with serious eyes. Alexander has wavy hair, a which is a soft black color, often messy and unkempt. With a solid build he stands over most=people, with a face that often looks stern, or disapproving, he rarely smiles. When Alexander smiles it's usually forced. The rare time that Alexander brings out a real smile, his face turns into a very different person features soften and his eyes twinkle with sincerity that is long thought dead.
When it comes to attire, Alexander prefers more practical travel worn clothes. Two belts criss cross around his waist lined with shiny shells for the heavy revolver with a sandal wood grip, almost all of the shells are made of different academical metals to help him stand against all of the different races. The other hip is adorned with a more automatic weapon, a small sleek handgun strapped to his side. An old battered chain of gold is the only jewelry he wears. When it comes to clothing, Alexander is very unimaginative and typically wears mostly the same few things over and over, only to replace them with similar when they wear out.
the personality,
»»likes:
Winter, reading, writing, the water, peace and quiet, romance novels, music, classical and metal would be his favorites.
»»dislikes: heights, awkward moments, socializing with large numbers of people, confined spaces
»»general personality: : Initially Alexander will come off as a jaded, cynical, asshole in most cases. Quick to fight, though not foolish in his doing so, the man picks his battles. Without a great deal of social skills, often his answers can be short and blunt, honest in a direct way. People will see him as cold and calculating, there can be no hesitating to kill someone whom would mean to do him, the lust for battle just doesn't live within the blood that courses through the man's veins, however when it comes down to it he won't hesitate to draw and shoot before you can blink an eye.
The nature he was born with still lives somewhere deep within the core, tenacious enough to survive all that life has thrown at him. It still exists, in rare moments, mostly in solitude when no one is around Alexander shows a gentle side. It can come at the strangest of times, prompted suddenly in the form of a kind gesture, only to snap shut once more. Although it has endured, the soft side of him is fragile, it could be snuffed out like a candle in the night... or with the right prompting maybe the dying ember could rekindle to cast it's light on his heart once more.
To sum up the conflicting natures inside of him. First the one that Alexander was born with, the one, it's the part of him that believed in romance, that people could be good, the part of him that loves stories new and old. A gentle kind heart that would stand up for someone whom is in trouble without any hesitation. The other, forged by the world he lives in and tempered by the old gunslinger, is a killer a fighter and a survivor. Seeing people as nothing but a danger to himself and others in his mind there are no sides in this conflict worth trusting and he especially wary of these so called angels.
the history,
»»mother: Dead
»»father: Dead
»»siblings: Nope
»»others: Roland Deschain Age 78 current status, unknown
»»background: Born in a city that is no more, nothing but a memory the boy known as Alexander was a happy child, loving books and the stories within them from the moment his brain could grasp the concepts behind stories. He loved to laugh and have fun, always with a smile he was the pride of the two who the boy knew as mom and dad. A bright future was laid out before him, knowing how to read by the age of four it was clear that the child was headed for scholarly pursuits when he was grown. However the world we live in is cruel and merciless, uncaring in its destruction for death is nothing if not equal to all those whom are embraced by it.
The city had been fortified, its strength was formidable to all whom would challenge it, standing tall and independent of the world, a hub for races to come together and set aside their differences. However there were those whom would see the city torn asunder for their own reasons, and though the city stood tall and strong it was still alone, for in its unity of the supernatural and acceptance of all, it was this fact that would deter the other factions from coming to its aid when war knocked on its door. He couldn't have been older than six when the siege began, lasting almost 8 months, the boy honestly remembers little, especially towards the end when destruction rained down and blood ran red in the streets. Burning away all he knew in the fires of carnage and senseless destruction, he was one of maybe a dozen survivors in the entire city of almost half a million. Who would do such a thing? the boy never found out, or maybe he just never asked.
Taken in by his aunt and uncle, a kindly pair whom traveled from town to town making a living, trying to instill the fact that there was still good in the world. Unfortunately as the kid grew all his eyes were to behold would be violence people fighting against one another, mistrust and the races pitting themselves against one another for reasons that a child's mind just cannot comprehend. This would etch it's self in his mind, slowly filling him with the same mistrust and hate that permeated the world. At the age of ten his aunt would be attacked and killed by Werewolf in the midst of a night like any other. The growing boy's uncle was devastated but he never stopped believing in the good of people, and always tried to make to make the world a better place. However his life as well would be stolen from him, found murdered one night, robbed of the few possessions he had, no one knew whom did the deed and it was never found. Alexander was fifteen at the time.
There was only one man after Alexander's uncle that had any real impact on the teenagers life, an old soldier, once a legend in battle but now a faded old man known as Roland Deschain. They met on fortunes whim, there was nothing special about it, they simply crossed paths, one made a comment to the other and Alexander found himself on his back before he could throw a punch. Roland saw something in Alexander's eyes he approved of. Giving the youth weapons to defend himself and teaching him the art of battle, they parted ways in silent understanding after a year together. The old man perhaps the only living person to have Alexander's respect.
The next nine years passed by in a blur, battles became the normal and to the surprise of many, he was good at it. A steady, quick shooting hand, level headed and calculating. Killing became...easy for him, so quickly in a world filled with such strife that there was never any second guessing. Learning how to protect your self against the other races, as well as from your own was essential. Roaming from place to place, never staying put for long Alexander made no friends, nor enemies really, he simply came and went, fighting to survive bearing and leaving no il will. In a life such as his, anyone's heart would grow cold and solid. Not hating the different races for what they were but instead mistrusting everyone as an individual, etching within his heart and mind that everyone was self serving, for that is exactly what he saw in the travels that his feet took.Fighting in gangs, alone, and even a brief stint in the army before slipping away again, ten years flew by quickly. Rumors and stories would be the only thing left in his wake, tales of a gunslinger followed the man where he went.
What was the point of all of this roaming? To ask him that is to receive nothing more than a shrug in response. If he searches for something, then he knows not what it is. Longing permeates every fiber of the wanderer's being, but it refuses to reveal it's nature. Those whom have met him tell varying stories, some of great brutality and tyranny on the battle field, and others of sudden acts of kindness. To an outsider it would appear that he walks a fine line of morality and could fall either way.
Now the path has taken him to the city of Hellis, what awaits this man, only time can tell in truth. Perhaps at last the longing will reveal it's self, in the form of love? or battle? maybe something more, he knows not, maybe this is just another stop on a journey with no end. Time, truly, is the only one who can reveal these things. Does he seek the unseekable?A new page is being written in this man's history, could he be a hero or a villain? or maybe just another traveler in the pages of history...let us find out.
the player,
»»alias: Saucy Jack
»»age: 24
»»contact:
How did you find us?: Zappdos Zulu you posted an add there.
“The road and the tale have both been long, would you not say so? The trip has been long and the cost has been high... but no great thing was ever attained easily. A long tale, like a tall Tower, must be built a stone at a time.”
the basics,
»»character full name: Alexander Havenheart
»»age: 25
»»gender: Male
»»sexual orientation: heterosexual
»»faction: Civilian
»»race: Human
»»powers: N/A
the appearance,
»»eyes: Deep pale blue
»»markings: A number of scar's from old bullet wounds, and a set of claw marks across his chest that have healed
but refuse to fade.
»»height: Six foot three
»»weight: Two hundred and fifteen pounds
»»general appearance: A tall young man with serious eyes. Alexander has wavy hair, a which is a soft black color, often messy and unkempt. With a solid build he stands over most=people, with a face that often looks stern, or disapproving, he rarely smiles. When Alexander smiles it's usually forced. The rare time that Alexander brings out a real smile, his face turns into a very different person features soften and his eyes twinkle with sincerity that is long thought dead.
When it comes to attire, Alexander prefers more practical travel worn clothes. Two belts criss cross around his waist lined with shiny shells for the heavy revolver with a sandal wood grip, almost all of the shells are made of different academical metals to help him stand against all of the different races. The other hip is adorned with a more automatic weapon, a small sleek handgun strapped to his side. An old battered chain of gold is the only jewelry he wears. When it comes to clothing, Alexander is very unimaginative and typically wears mostly the same few things over and over, only to replace them with similar when they wear out.
the personality,
»»likes:
Winter, reading, writing, the water, peace and quiet, romance novels, music, classical and metal would be his favorites.
»»dislikes: heights, awkward moments, socializing with large numbers of people, confined spaces
»»general personality: : Initially Alexander will come off as a jaded, cynical, asshole in most cases. Quick to fight, though not foolish in his doing so, the man picks his battles. Without a great deal of social skills, often his answers can be short and blunt, honest in a direct way. People will see him as cold and calculating, there can be no hesitating to kill someone whom would mean to do him, the lust for battle just doesn't live within the blood that courses through the man's veins, however when it comes down to it he won't hesitate to draw and shoot before you can blink an eye.
The nature he was born with still lives somewhere deep within the core, tenacious enough to survive all that life has thrown at him. It still exists, in rare moments, mostly in solitude when no one is around Alexander shows a gentle side. It can come at the strangest of times, prompted suddenly in the form of a kind gesture, only to snap shut once more. Although it has endured, the soft side of him is fragile, it could be snuffed out like a candle in the night... or with the right prompting maybe the dying ember could rekindle to cast it's light on his heart once more.
To sum up the conflicting natures inside of him. First the one that Alexander was born with, the one, it's the part of him that believed in romance, that people could be good, the part of him that loves stories new and old. A gentle kind heart that would stand up for someone whom is in trouble without any hesitation. The other, forged by the world he lives in and tempered by the old gunslinger, is a killer a fighter and a survivor. Seeing people as nothing but a danger to himself and others in his mind there are no sides in this conflict worth trusting and he especially wary of these so called angels.
the history,
»»mother: Dead
»»father: Dead
»»siblings: Nope
»»others: Roland Deschain Age 78 current status, unknown
»»background: Born in a city that is no more, nothing but a memory the boy known as Alexander was a happy child, loving books and the stories within them from the moment his brain could grasp the concepts behind stories. He loved to laugh and have fun, always with a smile he was the pride of the two who the boy knew as mom and dad. A bright future was laid out before him, knowing how to read by the age of four it was clear that the child was headed for scholarly pursuits when he was grown. However the world we live in is cruel and merciless, uncaring in its destruction for death is nothing if not equal to all those whom are embraced by it.
The city had been fortified, its strength was formidable to all whom would challenge it, standing tall and independent of the world, a hub for races to come together and set aside their differences. However there were those whom would see the city torn asunder for their own reasons, and though the city stood tall and strong it was still alone, for in its unity of the supernatural and acceptance of all, it was this fact that would deter the other factions from coming to its aid when war knocked on its door. He couldn't have been older than six when the siege began, lasting almost 8 months, the boy honestly remembers little, especially towards the end when destruction rained down and blood ran red in the streets. Burning away all he knew in the fires of carnage and senseless destruction, he was one of maybe a dozen survivors in the entire city of almost half a million. Who would do such a thing? the boy never found out, or maybe he just never asked.
Taken in by his aunt and uncle, a kindly pair whom traveled from town to town making a living, trying to instill the fact that there was still good in the world. Unfortunately as the kid grew all his eyes were to behold would be violence people fighting against one another, mistrust and the races pitting themselves against one another for reasons that a child's mind just cannot comprehend. This would etch it's self in his mind, slowly filling him with the same mistrust and hate that permeated the world. At the age of ten his aunt would be attacked and killed by Werewolf in the midst of a night like any other. The growing boy's uncle was devastated but he never stopped believing in the good of people, and always tried to make to make the world a better place. However his life as well would be stolen from him, found murdered one night, robbed of the few possessions he had, no one knew whom did the deed and it was never found. Alexander was fifteen at the time.
There was only one man after Alexander's uncle that had any real impact on the teenagers life, an old soldier, once a legend in battle but now a faded old man known as Roland Deschain. They met on fortunes whim, there was nothing special about it, they simply crossed paths, one made a comment to the other and Alexander found himself on his back before he could throw a punch. Roland saw something in Alexander's eyes he approved of. Giving the youth weapons to defend himself and teaching him the art of battle, they parted ways in silent understanding after a year together. The old man perhaps the only living person to have Alexander's respect.
The next nine years passed by in a blur, battles became the normal and to the surprise of many, he was good at it. A steady, quick shooting hand, level headed and calculating. Killing became...easy for him, so quickly in a world filled with such strife that there was never any second guessing. Learning how to protect your self against the other races, as well as from your own was essential. Roaming from place to place, never staying put for long Alexander made no friends, nor enemies really, he simply came and went, fighting to survive bearing and leaving no il will. In a life such as his, anyone's heart would grow cold and solid. Not hating the different races for what they were but instead mistrusting everyone as an individual, etching within his heart and mind that everyone was self serving, for that is exactly what he saw in the travels that his feet took.Fighting in gangs, alone, and even a brief stint in the army before slipping away again, ten years flew by quickly. Rumors and stories would be the only thing left in his wake, tales of a gunslinger followed the man where he went.
What was the point of all of this roaming? To ask him that is to receive nothing more than a shrug in response. If he searches for something, then he knows not what it is. Longing permeates every fiber of the wanderer's being, but it refuses to reveal it's nature. Those whom have met him tell varying stories, some of great brutality and tyranny on the battle field, and others of sudden acts of kindness. To an outsider it would appear that he walks a fine line of morality and could fall either way.
Now the path has taken him to the city of Hellis, what awaits this man, only time can tell in truth. Perhaps at last the longing will reveal it's self, in the form of love? or battle? maybe something more, he knows not, maybe this is just another stop on a journey with no end. Time, truly, is the only one who can reveal these things. Does he seek the unseekable?A new page is being written in this man's history, could he be a hero or a villain? or maybe just another traveler in the pages of history...let us find out.
the player,
»»alias: Saucy Jack
»»age: 24
»»contact:
How did you find us?: Zappdos Zulu you posted an add there.