Post by Viann Brokenfang on Mar 25, 2006 14:02:32 GMT -5
Name: Viann Brokenfang (V-aye-ann)
Age: Twenty Seven
Race: Msynian Felines
Class: Rubnianak
Alignment: Chaotic Evil (They're always the most fun..)
Personality: A bit rash at times, Viann tends to hide at the back, his dark eyes always watching, always waiting for that one moment to destroy the opposing side. His temper is hardly ever in check, though it doesn't bleed through like some Feline's might. It stays hidden, bottled up inside of him, tearing him apart from the inside out. His reigning emotion usually is anger, but it portreys to the world as calm and ready to wait for anything. It is only when no one is looking, however, that he lets it out to vent his anger like a dormant volcano blowing it's top when they least expect it.
When found with friends or family, Viann is usually found with a happy smile on his face. He enjoys playing with the village children, and aiding the sick and old. He is all around a well-rounded feline, enjoying life to it's maximum. Sure, it may be steaming hot in the desert, but who ever enjoyed life while being trapped inside on a rainy day?!
He honestly prefers living in the desert, as billowing cloaks and stuffy libraries aren't really his style. His village is usually found running around without any clothes at all, due to the immense heat, and no one really cares anyways. It's just better that way.
Appearanace:
Height: A good heighth, Viann stands around seven foot six inches, not reaching the height he should be, as Rubnian, but he's getting there.
Weight: Slim, yes, he still weighs around 200 pounds, due to his muscle and heighth. His waist is slender, with thin hips and a muscled chest, but his heighth puts on the extra weight to boost him up into the 190-200 range.
Eyes: A dull green, Viann's eyes are usually stone cold, never letting any emotion past the pupils. It is like a screen that stops him from living, his eyes. Though a smile may show on his face, his eyes show anger and disappointment in all that he sees. But that's just his eyes. Only the heart matters.
Hair: A dull reddish yellow, Viann's fur is more like a golden orange than anything. His paws are stained a blood-red, his tail a alabaster white, as well as his ears. He is all around a mixtue of colours, but that doesn't stop him from loving life.
Clothing: Usually running around without any clothes at all is the normal thing in the village, but if it is cold, or he must go somewhere important, Viann can usually be found in a dull black shirt with ripped sleeves, his village crest on the back. Brown pants will hang from his slender hips, held up by a black belt, gold ingavements reading long ago prophecies in the ancient language, known only to the Msynians. Black boots could cover his paws, but he despises the human invention so much he usually goes bare-pawed.
Weapon/Magic Skills: With no Extraordinary magical skills, Viann must turn to a hand-to-hand combat weapon. Not a favourite of daggers and poision, Viann prefers a long haliberd, feathers and tassesl falling from the lengthy handel to flip around the black base, their golden fringes mixing with the spiritual designs etches with precision onto the wood of his halibred.
The blade is curved, with a sharpened tip, the wood carved and the metal created by his grandfather years ago when the Msynian Feline was just a kit. It was put away until he came of age, when he took it forth and taught himself the skills needed to rule his village after his father passed on.
Biography/History:Twenty-seven years ago, Viann was born into the family of the "nobility" of the Msynians. His grandfather was the leader, usually away on matters only he knew of. The Msynian Feline grew up playing and fighting in the sands with the other children, and the village grew.
His grandfather was killed, and his father took over the job. Viann missed the man sorely, but made up for it by working hard and improoving his human speach. He could, indeed, speak the language much better than the other children, but sometimes forgot himself and let old habits sink back into his speach when he played and wrestled and swam in the pools of water they had.
At fifteen, Viann had a good life, and had fallen into a regular routine. Wake up, study, eat, study, play with friends, eat, sleep. It was a simple life, indeed, but he enjoyed it that way, with so little to worry about.
That love of things non-complicated stayed with him when he took over as the leader of the Msynians, and he hardly ever went away on buisness, prefering to stay around and help out with things at home.
Viann hated getting into matters that weren't his.
That's Viann