Application for Seril Kanesson
Sept 3, 2013 15:07:09 GMT -5
Post by serilkane on Sept 3, 2013 15:07:09 GMT -5
Full Name:Seril Kanesson
Other name: Seril, preferably.
Race: Human
Side: The Varden, though somewhat neutral.
Birthplace: Farthen Dur
Age: Seventeen, at the time of his dragon's hatching.
Gender: Male
Birthday: 4th of September
Eyes: Mottled grey, blue. Depending on the lighting, truly. Though he usually avoids eye contact.
Hair: Messy and brown. Seril rarely takes care of his hair, truth be told.
Weight: Roughly 195 lbs.
Height: Nearing six and a half feet.
Magic User:Yes.
Preferred Weapon(s): A flamberge, an undulating blade found on both long blades and rapiers. When parrying with such a sword, unpleasant vibrations may be transmitted into the attacker's blade. These vibrations caused the blades to slow contact with each other, as additional friction was encountered with each wave. The unusual cross section of the blade also would inflict wider wounds with a thrust, while still keeping the blade light. A quarterstaff, and very, very rarely a longbow.
Appearance: Standing at nearly six and a half feet, Seril has always been rather tall. Considerably moreso because of the company he finds himself in. Having been but a born in the Varden's sectors of Farthen Dur, Seril was friends with a number of Dwarven children. The two races may appear quite similar in their youth, but around the age of ten Seril shot upwards at an astounding rate, finally topping off at a height that restricted him from most Dwarven chambers. Kind, yet somewhat reserved, grey eyes sit beneath a pair of thick, dark brows. Rings encircle his eyes, a clear sign of many, many late nights of restlessness. Light muscles sprout up on his legs and arms, though nowhere near that of a soldier or worker. Most days, Seril attires himself in a simple tunic and padded leggings, usually in a dark brown or mustard. It's unlike him to garb himself in finger clothing, even if he could afford it. Seril, for all intents and purposes, appears as a scholar.
Personality: A brilliant mind sits quietly in Seril's skull, often ticking away at some menial puzzle. And although he isn't necessarily the most charismatic or particularly brave, he displays a level of loyalty found only in the fiercest of beings. The lengths he would go to for someone he trusts, which are few and far between, are nearly unfathomable.
He spends many sleepless nights researching one project or another, well into the night. It is both a boon and a curse, truth be told. While the researching provides Seril with various knowledges of the many races in the land, it also leads to a restless sleep. More often than not, Seril finds himself exhausted from a lack of sleep.
When confronted with the task of speaking to those unfamiliar to Seril, or those above his station in life, he finds himself using as few words as possible. It isn't necessarily that he's shy, though that plays a large part in his life. It's simply that Seril prefers to avoid drawing much attention to himself. The background is a better place for the young man. It allows him time to absorb information and formulate theories based on those observations.
--->Likes: Research and books, music, quietness, and solitude.
--->Dislikes: Loud noises, heights, extreme heat, and deep water.
--->Strengths: Mental strength, vast knowledge base, history, running, and stealth.
--->Weakness: Fighting and swordsmanship, lack of people skills, and exhaustion brought on by lack of sleep.
Family:
Seril Kane was born to a family of merchants. His father, Kane Eliasson, defied his father's upbringing as a soldier in the Imperial Army in order to devote himself completely to mercantilism and start his own fortunes. Thus, by avoiding conscription into the army, Kane was marked a traitor of the state and sentenced to death. Obviously wishing to avoid such a fate, Kane sought refuge with the Varden, some time ago. It was there that he met the woman he was to marry. A young, rich girl by the name of Marta Daliasdaughter. Shortly after their grandeur wedding, Marta announced she was pregnant with their first ,and unfortunately only, son Seril. During Seril's birth, which was a rather complicated one due to a number of health conditions, Marta passed into the void.
History: Deep in the heart of, well, nowhere, after the bright disk in the sky had set over the mountains and nearly everyone should've been asleep, a fire spluttered into life. Seril Kanesson had been attempting to sleep, though his mind wouldn't allow such a relief. And so, begrudgingly, the young man had sat up and busied himself by making a fire in the small alcove he called home. It was a subject he'd read once or twice in a series of books back in Farthen Dur. How hard could it be, really? And though he was confident in his knowledge, reading about making a fire and actually accomplishing the fact are two completely separate things. To his amazement, three hours later, Seril sat back and gripped his knees tightly. Casting a glance back at his only companion, a small infant dragon that had hatched only a few days prior. Sighing softly, the young man rubbed his right palm gingerly, fingers kneading the silvery mark.
He was in his second year of manhood and life was rather pleasant, all things considering. Only just a year ago the whole of Alagaesia had been changed, and for the better he personally believed. A young man, about his own age, named Eragon had appeared from almost literally nowhere. He was the first free Rider outside of the dread king Galbatorix's control. And just like that his whole world had been turned upside down. Somewhere deep down Seril had always known that the Varden couldn't sustain themselves forever in the mountains of Farthen Dur, despite its various comforts. And so with the arrival of Eragon, the sleepy entity that was the Varden arose. Which really put a thorn in Seril's side.
Seril was a scholar. Well, a scholar in training, really. No one had the comfort of truly scholarly pursuits. No one could lounge away the days in the pursuit of knowledge for knowledge's sake. That would be far too simple. And yet, when the Varden stirred from it's prolonged hibernation, Seril's world was turned upside down. It wasn't the politics of the situation that bothered, Seril. It wasn't even the war itself, though that did weigh heavily on his conscience. Oh, no. It was the constant moving, especially through the mountains. With the sudden move, Seril was forced to sell off or simply throw away countless tomes of knowledge, something he wasn't keen on doing. But it was necessary. And so, packing only those books he deemed too valuable to leave, Seril and his father packed up the small belongings they had in a merchant's caravan and said goodbye to the mountain stronghold they had called home for two generations.
Skipping ahead some time; during one of the various skirmishes with the soldiers Galbatorix had been sending to the Varden in order to thwart them, Seril found himself a prisoner. Not to any one person or thing, oh no. That would be a lot easier to handle. But to nature itself. See, Seril wasn't one to go into battle quickly. He wasn't a soldier and he knew that. His skills were better put to use in the background, studying ways to help various militant commanders, not swinging swords at other men. And so as the fighting became more and more grueling, Seril ran. He wasn't proud of it and it went completely against his character, truth be told. But he did and there wasn't anything he could do to take back the fact that he was a deserter.
Blindly walking in the opposite direction, it took Seril about a week before he found civilization. A quaint little village by the name of Petrovya. He had read about the place and its history many times in his studies, but as he soon realized, reading about something was vastly different than actually experience. Of course, due to the inclement political situation, Seril was turned away after being able to barter a few books for food and water. It was then that he continued on towards a small forest on the eastern banks of lake Tudosten, where he found the one thing that would change his destiny forever. A dragon egg.
Seril hadn't known it was an egg at first, honestly. He thought it must've been a precious stone left by a Dwarf cartel. It's coloring wasn't that of any dragon he knew of, those being both Saphira and Thorn. They were bright, brilliant colors. Ocean blue and fiery red. Yet this egg was a shimmery pewter color. Dark grey, teetering mottled with veins of a lighter, almost white, grey. There was no way that a dragon egg could've existed outside of the Empire's control. Unfathomable. And yet, the unfathomable occurred during his third night in the forest. With a screech, almost like metal on metal, a hairline crack spread out over the stone, now deemed egg. Another few minutes passed before a young, pewter colored-dragon tumbled from the remains of the shell and hiccuped twice. And that brings us to the present.
Anything extra:
Dragon Creation Form
Dragon Bio
Name: Ophelia, unless someone wishes to play Seril's dragon. And then they're more than welcome to use a better suited name.
Side: Neutral, with Varden sympathies.
Birthplace: The forest on the eastern bank of Lake Tudosten
If Dragon Rider, how did the rider find the egg?: In the wild.
Age: Infantile
Gender: Female
Eyes: A very light shade of grey, almost steely.
Scale Color: A much darker shade of grey. More like the lead of a pencil or iron.
Appearance: Ophelia is, as of now, a very young dragon. She is bulkier for her age, appearing more built like a battering ram than anything that could fly particularly well. Her scales shimmer in the light, but in pitch dark it's unlikely that she could be seen, her diminutive size and age help in this area. The muscles of her legs appear strong and well-built while her wings are shorter than most young dragons. All in all she looks very compact.
Personality: (Again, if someone wants to roleplay as Seril's dragon, feel free to change this according to your roleplay style.)
Ophelia is considerably more aggressive than Seril is. She forces him into action more often than not, especially when he would rather curl up with a few scrolls and let others change the fate of the world. She doesn't take her lessons, should they receive any, as seriously as Seril does, which usually results in the two bickering. Her affection for Seril, however, is clear. And it is because of this affection that they feel comfortable enough to point out one another's flaws. "To better one another."
--->Likes: Eating, playing, hunting, and annoying Seril into action.
--->Dislikes: Flying for prolonged periods of time, having to take orders from people, and spirits.
--->Strengths: Her physical strength, quick wit, and sharp eyes.
--->Weakness: Flying, maneuverability, breathing fire, vanity, and aggression.
Password: Nuanen Brisingr
Ooc: Alright. I don't think I left anything out, but please feel free to message me if something doesn't seem right.
