Jack Rokveer
"If you wish to be truly fearless of death; be mindful of those you leave behind in death."
Class: Paladin
Race: Aasimar
Age: 50
Height: 6ft 2
Weight: 230lbs (99.8kg)
Eyes: A diamond-hard blue
Hair: White, silver; evidently taken care of
Facial Hair: Moustache and classy soul-patch
Handedness: Right
Posture: He walks with a confident albeit stiff-and-stern gait, and his mannerisms are non-gesturing (though he rests a hand on someone's shoulder when articulating something he feels needs to be stressed) yet inviting and transparent.
Hygiene: He is ostensibly clean, hardly ever does one see his face streaked with black soot even in the heart of battle or an activity demanding physical exertion.
Scent: Some sort of ointment he uses has the same effect as the modernity of cologne; vanilla and hazel nut odor.
White full plate armor (he was wearing black for a few years after his brother died) he earned by beheading a dark rider of the Zhentarim as instruced by the Hluthvar temple. He ended up returning the 100 gold doled out to him at the end of each month to the temple, who agreed to bathe and feed him, and the priests (who served as more of shouting war-captains throughout the town) gratefully accepted all of it back (in spite of the head priest advising him to take at least 50 of it for himself).
Items of Interest in plain sight:
♦ A billowing spectral-white cloak with nothing eye-catching in particular on it.
♦ Within his sword-belt is tucked away a powerful greatsword, which he simply calls Bane's Fear. The blade has fire-warded properties one could only eyeball as epic. The pommel is ornately-carved, the hilt wrapped in gold leather, and the quilion (or crossguard) is narrow, silver, and tapered toward the outer ends.
♦ His belt is strangely enough in appearance remniscent of an electrified fence (in tribute to the well-fortified Temple of Helm in Hulthvar, which was called: "The wall in the darkness") and it is wrought of ruby and emerald (this was in fact his brother's belt, which was returned to him shortly after his brother died in a routine patrolling around the town/fortress of ).
♦ A ring is worn on the right hand of an unblnking pulsing eye (Though Helm is not his patron deity, he is very much supportive of Him)
♦ Set up around his neck is a gold holy symbol of Torm
Physical Description: He often exhibits patience in his eyes and a warm smile readily available on his lips. The intensity of his idealistic gaze promotes a sense of protection and also of one wanting to know more... there is no perpetual melancholy gleam within them, however, there is still the sense this aasimar has had trying experiences and put through the ringer. He is tall and his musculature is lean suggesting he does not eat many greasy or sugary foods or foods empty in nutrients.
Personality Profile: His voice is very technical and rigid (to be more precise a splash of geeky intellect and caucasian-sounding). Even when angered, there is strangely enough not much emotion embodied within his screams. His anger is usually more expressive facially.
General Health: He is in impeccable health and remains healthy out of duty, and the vanities of preening himself before the mirror do not take up an ounce of his time. He is scarless to this very day.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Deity/Beliefs: Torm, The True, The Loyal Fury
Philosophy: Redemptive values over beheading and dominating Evil via the sword; though he knows he will receive less traction this route and it will be purely an act of moderation being non-submissive on malicious-types and forgiving.
Profession: Paladin of Torm; trying to help out through as many community outreach programs and charities and generally good projects as possible.
Base Class & Proposed Development: Paladin (26) Divine Champion (4)
Habits:He gears toward speaking very quietly when overly stressed. He adopts an uprolling of his lips when he hears something troubling or something he doesn't approve of (his sort of way of smirking chilvarously, I suppose). He doesn't always drink... but when he does it's either pale ales or the insatiably delicious (and gnomishly-brewed) Gorgondy ale, usually just two or three glasses suffice for him.
Jack did not have much time to develop recreational hobbies since the town he grew up in... Hluthvar was composed of grim folk always on edge and thinking up new ways to deal justice to the forces of Darkhold. He loves mining and oddly finds it therapeutic, and has for the most part filled his life with the thankless, toil of duty, catching inspiration from the many metal-clad, Zhentarim-opposing soldiers who improved themselves with sword and crossbows every day under the watchful eyes of priests.
Languages: Common, Elven, Celestial
Weapon of Choice: Greatsword (wielded one-handed or two) - Bane's Fear
Jack has a slightly musical voice, though this doesn't come off very often, and it's usually just hymns he and a few buddies sang while in the sloshing trenches, taking heavy fire from Zhentarim artiliery. He tries his hardest to show one image of himself, so as to not portray himself as deceptive or arrogant. He once saw one of his fellow soldiers, Dwight, gorging on way too many drinks at the Watchful Eye Inn, he took him off to the side and counselled him in a manner that was brutally blunt. His exact words were, "You pretend to be holy around the priests, and the authority figures at the temple just to come here and be something you are not?"Dwight never drank at the Watchful Eye Inn, again, and it went back to being a eerily quiet bar.
Jack is respectful toward everyone he meets, finding it rude to not introduce himself when a new figure arrives. He is not big on saying, oh, paladins are the greatest way you can serve The Triad, or being a favored or priest is... merely espousing everyone use the strengths and talents they were endowed with. He will subtly use his gaze to intimidate information out of someone (long as it doesn't contradict the vows he took).
