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Unread post by RedLancer » Fri Oct 06, 2017 5:24 pm

vName: Destin Owlspur
vOrigin: Suzail, Cormyr (Year of the Striking Hawk)
vLanguages: Common, Chondathan, Elven, Celestial
vAge: Mid-to-late twenties
vRace: Human Male
vClass: Paladin
vDeity: Hoar

vAffiliation: Hunters of Vengeance

vHeight: 6'2"
vWeight: 195 lbs.
vHair: Blond
vEyes: Blue, flecked with gold

Appearance and Affects
A man of relaxed bearing stands six feet, two inches in height. Carelessly tousled blond hair crowns a noble brow, the setting for two patient eyes colored blue, their hue variant with the temperament of the sky. A broken golden halo scatters from either pupil, a sunburst behind an eclipse. His nose is straight save for the slightest bump where its cartilage begins, and it is centered between two high cheekbones that slope into an angular jaw and a proud chin. He smiles often, the shape pliant. He is fit, no waste clung to his figure, and the body beneath armor or clothes is sculpted in exceptional form and symmetry.

His armor is dour in color, black and steel spaced for mild contrast, but it is embellished exquisitely, notes of rose and gold subtly coloring floral sentiment and celestial symbology deliberately set on the case. The round shield oft slung to his back similarly blooms, but his arms are more severe in cast: he bears a spear, its handle wrapped in red dragonskin with a spade that coils flame; the stout stave of a powerful longbow; and a stern, straight sword, which hangs at his left hip. Far more precious, a thick, black tome, well bound, is tethered by a flinty chain at his right hip.

Away from warrior's effects, the man has a Sunite's sensibilities, favoring clothing crafted to embellish or display his beauty, though blacks and whites and a mark of red are ever dominant. Jewelry, too, as he fears not bracelet or bangle to draw the eye. Always, the black book is his silent companion, and a red ribbon, too, encircling his left wrist. Finally, most favored, a golden brooch of inimitable design, ordered by heavenly sentiment and the wild, a cradle for quartz cast as moonstone. Eyes keen upon see light in its depths: dreamy, constellatory illumination. No matter his garb, the brooch always attends, highest held of any adornment.

The son of a diminished noble house, Destin was tutored in matters of music, dance, language, and academics: those things a noble ought know well even if the family barely clings to the lowest of prestigious rungs. He is versed in a variety of disciplines, speaks four languages, plays multiple musical instruments, and dances well, all a result of paid tutelage.

A two-year contract in the Cormyrian Purple Dragons made him martially proficient, though he never distinguished himself, in part due to not manifesting the powerful strength of arm or predatory agility expected of a man of war. Initially driven toward knighthood, he abandoned the pursuit and chose not to renew his contract when the end of a relationship induced in him a bout of apathy. Events came to Three Thunders calling for his service as a paladin, and because of his martial training and finer education, he was well able to answer.

To persuade himself to stay his path, he denounced his role as heir to his family's comfort and names himself only Destin, though he does not shrink from his surname and offers it when asked.

Personality, Habits, and Behavior
He feels emotions keenly. Love and happiness are vibrant and enduring, and despair and loneliness are oppressive and consuming. He is prone to speaking in prose when inspired or when his interest is piqued, and he particularly enjoys the use of language and how additional meaning can be woven into carefully chosen words. He is always completely honest, and he's particularly fond of people who comprehend his peculiar way of speaking and who can similarly leave unspoken answers in their own speech. Mostly, he wants to understand and to be understood.

Quiet and sincere conversation is very much his greatest amusement, and he delights in asking small and simple things and perceiving modes of thought from the answers given. He avoids large gatherings, both uncomfortable with the clamor they bring and immediately bored of the "small talk" they often stoke. He favors water, whether fountains or falls, oceans or ponds.

Despite his love for companionship, he is fiercely independent, unwilling to join any band or cause he can't be certain would perfectly represent his own ideals.
Last edited by RedLancer on Mon Apr 01, 2019 2:05 pm, edited 9 times in total.

Posts: 162
Joined: Mon Mar 28, 2016 4:58 pm

Re: Destin

Unread post by RedLancer » Wed Nov 14, 2018 1:58 pm

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Voracious conflagration nested deep beneath the heart, ravenous sorrow, empowering, devouring, crying out for the lash and daring it again. Suspend, see this part; such a fire shall not be drowned. Seize, cease. Now breathe.
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Hunter ere, Hunter after, where lies laughter among the solemn? Dwindled, enkindled for beauty gone to death, and promise ever after to be bright. There are stars in the night, light enough. Eyes ahead; it's dark behind.
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A man did not understand the use of a box for a precious thing. A box conceals. A box wards away sight and sound and touch. It must be opened, whatever that takes. Spake, he, of knowing, and he knew not, knew naught, and pridefully he fell upon a spear and broke his precious, black heart. Suffer not the suffering of the wronged. There is a stone to cast to one side or the other, where it leans on the scale. I understood, and I do. The light is blinding.
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The highest tower sways in the wind, by sin ascendant, transcendent of equity. Flange twained, spirit stained by balance overdue. Say a thing true; it must occur to you ere you can do aught. Naught's in the fire; you already burn. Page to turn, wise to learn that on ground unsteady, what's wanted is the breeze; flame must breathe, else it's snuffed. Slough steel, then reveal.
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Nimbus, limbus made in gray, ever-bearing rain and herald of tempest, summons sudden squall, call to be breathless, comes through, centers peace. Named in two parts, resplendent shine, encircles, envelops, reliefs divine. Never cease.

Grateful hand, grateful heart, part gladly gave over, strides adventurous, curious, and knows naught's spurious. Joy was in the waiting, after all, burning man, turning hand, bared, to catch the rain. Slips, drifts beneath, depths swept through delicate breast. Fades. Beacon, brilliant, resilient, submerged but burns. Saved, sustained, quenched by falls; a Nimbus is all that bears his breath. Be bright. Be bright. Guide me, Starlight.

Beside, beside, reside; lonely brand, appended "and," bide, bide, moon preside. Thunder flash, symphonic lash; that he is, and his, goes to ash. Transcendent of a wearied choice, finally chosen, future seen in relief as though it were the only one intended. Clarity of a heart perfectly tended.
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Revenant, impenitent, sanguine hope of the butcher, loyal as any hound for the hand that tugs the leash. Unleashed, a dark heart dusted with a shaken grave's sour earth, birthed of black celebrant, berthed of graceful sentiment. Honorable knight, what might have been, but you are too glad of your chains.
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Take this thing, clutch it close, remember whence it came, and it's the same for you, broken soul: a thing fractured and set apart comes not again to its first place. It means not what it did at its gifting, delicate thing, and stands harsh against the sentiment. Little dove, you were not meant for death, and you did not die, but you're killing me.
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Fog waits in the dreaming, a veil pierced to show happy and unkind things, the wandering wondering of an unconscious mind, truth as I will it, or fear it, sand to grasp and spill through clenched fingers into the basin of an hourglass until the bowl is full. The veil comes closed, and eyes open to the obscured.
To come . . .

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