Aryn Lobreen Renayr Olyrion
Apr 18, 2014 14:36:57 GMT -6 Word Count:
Post by Deleted on Apr 18, 2014 14:36:57 GMT -6
ARYN LOBREEN RENAYR OLYRION
LIKE A FAIRYTALE FROM HELL
- Name:Aryn Lobreen Renayr Olyrion
- Pronunciation:aa - rOHn low - brEEn ray - nAIR oh - LEE - REE - ohn
- Meaning:none really, Aryn is derived Aaron which means mountain of strength
- Nickname(s):Aryn, The Woodsman
- Age:27 years
- Preset:The Defier
what masks that sultry smile?
- Skin:Aryn’s skin is dark and tanned heavily from the sun. He has wrinkles around his eyes from squinting in the sun.
- Hair:His hair is shaved now, just growing back from having a completely shaved head. It’s black in coloring. He also has stubble on his chin and cheeks that is the same color.
- Eyes:He has almond shaped eyes that fall back into his face. His sclera is black as the night sky without the brightness of the moon. Irises are a bright orange that seem to reflect in the night. He doesn’t have much of a pupil to speak of, they’re barely a shade darker than his irises.
- Build:From lifting heavy loads and working long hours since he was a young boy, Aryn is built like an ox. He’s very muscular and rather intimidating looking.
- Marks:He is covered in scars from whips and blades, including scars around his wrists, ankles, and neck from shackles. His entire torso and arms are covered in celtic knotwork. There is a celtic tree of life tattooed in the center of his chest that is the origin point for the rest of his tattoos. His right hand has tattoos while his left does not. The back of it has a triquetra circle and knotwork. These tattoos do not raise up his neck of past his collar bones.
- Items:He doesn’t have much in the way of possessions. He has some cheap, thin clothing, but he keeps it neat and mended. His boots are made of leather and are worn from travel. He has a small pack to carry his few possessions and food. Aryn has an old battle axe that is his only means for defense.
what lurks within those eyes?
- Key Traits:
- Honest:One thing his mother always told him was that no one could take away the power of his word other then himself. Aryn took that to heart and has never told a lie. When he says he’s going to do something, he will do it. You can always trust what he says to be true.
- Strong willed:If he sets his mind to it, good luck changing this young mans mind! When he decides to do something, he will do it, no matter what anyone says. It could be the stupidest idea in the world, that won’t stop Aryn.
- Emotionally stunted:Aryn isn’t really the emotional type. He’s rather stoic most of the time. He has a hard time showing any emotion. He’s never laughed or cried, not since he was a young child at least.
- Quiet:This young man won’t say something that doesn’t need to be said. As a slave, they weren’t allowed to talk, and as such he learned that words were precious and should only be risked when necessary. Even though he is no longer bound to the quarry, he still doesn’t talk much.
- Moral:Aryn’s moral compass points directly north. If you’ve broken the law, you’ve broken the law and you’re in the wrong. He’s not interested in your sob story, he will drag you in kicking and screaming.
- Depressed:Ever since his mother died, Aryn has battled depression. Due to his inability to process emotion, he hasn’t mourned for her properly. He still carries the regret of not being able to save her.
- Vegetables:If it’s green and fresh, it’s his favorite thing. Most of the food he got as a slave was grainy slop not fit for the cattle, as such he has fallen in love with the fresh crisp taste of vegetables.
- Swimming:A stark difference to the heat and sweat he’s accustomed to, swimming is one of Aryn’s favorite past times. It makes him feel clean and fresh, like after every swim he is reborn.
- Working hard:Even though he has spent his whole life working hard, Aryn really enjoys a hard days work and reaping the benefits. Working up a sweat and making something good are a kind of therapy for him.
- Heat:Though he can handle it, Aryn hates the heat. It reminds him of everything he’s trying to leave behind. He doesn’t mind getting over heated from activity so much as the sun bearing down on him.
- Oppression:Whenever someone is controlling anothers lives, Aryn hates them. They’re scum and deserve to rot in the Bastille forever.
- Courageous:Aryn is incredibly courageous. He’ll dive headlong into a lions den if it means saving the life of another. He doesn’t fear the world around him and doesn’t let it get to him.
- Resolute:You will never find a more determined man. He doesn’t give up on anything and will die before budging an inch.
- Apathetic:No emotions are shown through his orange eyes. Aryn doesn’t display emotion, but he doesn’t understand it either. If others are crying or excessively happy, he doesn’t understand it and become very uncomfortable.
- Stubborn:While being determined can be a good thing, it can also have consequences. If a plan goes south or his companions leave him all on his own, he won’t back down, even if it means his death.
- The Past:Aryn is terrified that the drivers that haunt his nightmares will come back for him. It seemed all to easy for him to get out of there. They wouldn’t give up their prized breaker that easily would they?
- The Battle:What if others found out about his past? About where he got the blade scars across his body. Would he be seen differently? Would he be shunned?
- The Greasy Spoon:Aryn hopes one day to earn enough coins to open a small inn and never have to use his strength to earn a living again.
what winds beneath your feet?
- Father:Aronyn Jebern Kronoa Olyrion
- Mother:Layna Aberdeen Natira Olyrion
- Sibling(s):None that lived long enough to be named
It was one of the hottest days of the year in the harsh wastelands of Aridon when a screaming child came into the world. This was the first child Layna had ever birthed that roared with a fervor for life. She was ecstatic. She’d carried many children before, but none had lived through the torture her body had been in during her pregnancies. The child was quickly brought to his father who swelled in pride at the sight of his son. But with his pride also came fear. What life would his son have? That night, his father and many other men were killed in a failed attempt to uprise against their ruthless drivers.
Aryn’s childhood was hard. Working alongside his mother sorting rocks in the quarries. His little hands would be blistered and bloody by the end of the day. His orange eyes would always be filled with huge tears and his mother would sing softly to him, gently washing the dirt and blood from his hands and face. Layna always knew how to comfort him. Most of his young childhood was spent being rocked to sleep, the soft flickering light of the fire and his mothers soft voice coaxing him into sleep.
When he was old enough, he joined the other men, hauling the rock down the treacherous cliffs. Carrying the baskets full of rocks was incredibly hard work. He watched many boys his age fall down the narrow path, being crushed under the weight of the loads they carried. The easiest and safest work for the men, not exactly easy or safe by normal standards, was breaking the rocks of the cliff face for the haulers to take down. His father had be a breaker, Aryn had his build and he heard the drivers talk about how he would one day be a breaker himself. Aryn knew that that would put his mother at ease and he worked hard to become strong enough to break the rock. There was no playing, no laughter in his childhood. The only happiness he got was from his mother who began to grow weaker as the years passed.
When Aryn was only 20 years old, his mother became devastatingly ill. He knew that the ill slaves were taken away and never seen again. He was determined not to let that happen to her. Aryn hid her, always avoiding their drivers finding her during their inspections of the huts by moving her into a small cellar they had dug out that they didn’t know about. It was hard, especially as she was deteriorating since she had to climb a ladder down to the cellar. Soon enough her legs gave out and he couldn’t help her, without the ability to climb down that ladder, there was no hiding her. The drivers found her. He fought with all the strength he had gained on the mountain, but with all his strength, he couldn’t go against their numbers. There was nothing he could do. Aryn watched through swollen eyes as his mother was carried away.
Seven years passed and Aryn became accomplished breaker. His mother being taken from him had finally broken the spirit that had held out for all those years, and he had mourned for so long. Even though, he was still strong and the drivers liked him and appreciated his strength and ability to work for hours. One day, an incredibly hot day when the water ran dry, he had a vision. Others called it a hallucination, but he couldn’t help it. He saw his mother, with a man he had never known, smiling. They said they loved him and that they wanted more for him. Aryn woke up in his hut and was told that the heat, which had caused many to fall earlier in the morning, had nearly claimed him as well. That was when he knew, he had to get out.. This was no life for any man to lead.
Every year there was a tournament. A fight to the death and the last man standing earned his freedom. They were provided what ever weapons they could possibly desire and were placed into cages for three days before the battle. They weren’t given any food and little water in the hopes that they would be all the more desperate and fight more ferociously. It was a horrible practice that Aryn hated, but he had to get out. While Aryn didn’t want to harm his fellow slaves, he just couldn’t take it any more.
It was hard battle, being starved and parched for water, but his endurance far outweighed the other slaves. While Aryn wasn’t a skilled fighter, his strength and stamina gave him power to withstand the brutal attacks of desperate men. Suddenly, there came a time he couldn’t just ward them off anymore, he would have to strike. The dust was thick and his head was spinning. When the dust settled, and he looked around, Aryn was filled with grief. The blood on his hands was the blood of his brethren, their bodies strewn around him. He didn’t even know which ones he had killed and which ones had fallen at the hands of others. He felt ashamed and knew that his parents would be looking down on him from where ever they were disgraced.
Aryn was released and he has been travelling ever since, picking up odd jobs helping people with heavy labor intensive work. He hopes to become a mercenary and bring justice, but he’s not sure he will be able to ever kill again.
what hands ignite your fires?
- OOC Display Name:Mosiebear
- Real Name:I’d rather not say if that’s alright.
- Experience:I’ve been RPing for…. 8 years maybe? I dunno. A long time. XD
- Tamed Horse(s):None
- Untamed Horse(s):None
- Notes:Bacon pancakes.