Post by Lark on Mar 6, 2013 23:10:01 GMT -5
FEDORRE
PB: Tarkan Tevetolu
Name: Fedorre
Pronunciation: Fed-or-A
Age: 24 turns
Season Born In: Summer
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Appearance:
To say that Fedorre is a guy easily overlooked isn't something that is entirely true. I mean sure he has a habit of hiding in that dark corner of the room with his head down and an amused, half-insane grin on his face, but if you actually looked at him, well that's an interesting sight some would say. He has a bit of a rugged, bad-boy thing going on that tends to suit him pretty well; dark hair somewhat short and yet always looking like he just rolled out of bed and scruff on his face, not to mention the occasional smudge of dirt. He has dull, golden brown eyes though, incredibly faded and light to the point that the color can be picked out from across the room. There's no chance of mistaking them for another color, not even plain old brown because honestly they don't look like the standard klah brown. He has a scar as well, hidden partially by his hair, but the white line that reaches from the upper corner of his jawhinge to the corner of his eye-socket can be seen on the left side of his face.
It's not the only one. He has scars and other marks in spades along his back and even arms, trophies he would say though always with a sarcastic tone of voice. He's not exactly shy about them, but he's not proud either and instead tends to just be downright annoyed if they're ever pointed out. Despite them however they tend to not entirely take away from his tanned skin and yes, fit body. At about 6ft 2in, he's fairly tall and ranges on the lanky side though he takes pride in keeping the muscle toned and his body used to moving easily. He tends to give off that vibe, or so he wants to think, of one at ease with their being. Even when he's lying around he tends to sprawl out and dare anyone to say something about it, always prepared with a sarcastic remark.
As one may expect from a man taught to fight and hunt for his living, Fed is also quite skilled with using things around him. He isn't usually found without at least one or two daggers hidden on his body. To top of his appearance, he tends to wear darker clothes too. They don't bring so much attention to him as vibrant colors would, and even muted things are taken since they too do the job well. More than anything though Fed just loves the color black, not because of any depressing tale about how it speaks to his soul, but just because it's uniform and crisp, and because it reminds him of night and happier times...okay, so maybe it is a tiny bit of a depressing reason.
Personality:
Does he care yet.....
Nope.
What about now?!?
Still no.
Well he's a little piece of jerk isn't he?
No, totally not. -straight face-
Really?!?! -hopeful-
Yea....no, just no. He doesn't give two sharding flips.
-sadface-
Honestly, when it comes down to it Fedorre is a jerk. Not a bit, not kind of, he just is and he knows it. To be perfectly clear...he doesn't care he's a jerk. He doesn't care if he's being inconsiderate, if he's manipulative or anything. All that matters is what he wants, well...almost, but that can wait because right now we're talking about how much of a jerk he is. Fedorre is out for himself. He only trusts himself, only listens to himself, and only follows his own rules, if he even does that. Oh, and he does actually have a set of rules he follows. Don't get too close to anyone. Don't involve anyone but yourself. Cut off loose ends. You know, the normal "secret agent" sort of ideology, except you know, he's not one.
He's quite meticulous as well, calculating everything he does carefully before acting. It can come off as being cold and aloof, and to be honest this is what Fedorre wants. Being warm and friendly isn't the first go to plan in his book. In fact, it's so far removed from his book that he has to borrow it from another library....and then translate it because he has no idea how to even begin getting close to someone. Socially he's not exactly awkward; he just doesn't care for others and so stays in the back of the room. The only people that he gets "close" to are those that are the sort to fight by his side in a scuffle or drink the night away at the tavern. They're not so much companions as people he tolerates.
As for his animal companions, well that’s a whole different story. He’s trained Blitz, Pepper and Ember. He knows he can trust them, and he knows that they will do anything he needs of them…well maybe not in Ember’s case all the time, but he can try. People though, he’s trusted them at one point in his life, and it was a mistake leaving him broken hearted and without his siblings’ support like he had for turns.
As for relationships; Fed just plain doesn't get them. He wants freedom, and being tied down to some pretty little girl or cute boy isn't going to get him that. Now, a night or two is a different story though and Fedorre isn't one to pass up on some fun rolling in the furs if he can help it. Honestly though, the main reason he doesn't try relationships goes beyond the freedom issue, he just doesn't want to bring anyone into his messed up life. He thinks he doesn't deserve someone after the things he's done, and to the idea of getting that close to someone and possibly needing them terrifies him.
He's a warrior, a hunter, a predator. The only feelings he wants to know are those of hatred, violence, and desire. Fedorre doesn't hold much stock in fairy tales, and wishing that something will happen or hoping that he'll have a happy ending isn't on his list of things to do. The man knows he'll either die on his feet or happily sleeping in bed, either way he goes out with a certain tainted honor. Honor. It's another thing that Fedorre likes to twist around to benefit his life. There is no such thing for him, he's too far gone already according to the man, and yet he tries to do some justice in his actions now or at least prove to himself that they are justified. How else could he believe he's not a monster? Well, he does partially believe that too.
What he really can't stand, yes aside from those many things he finds annoying, is whenever someone is truly helpless. Not that "Oh I can't do anything right" sort of helpless, but the terrified, shivering, breakdown sort of helpless. It's not annoying to him then, oh no he's been through it before and he knows just how deep and dark that hole is. So, for the only time in his life, for the only reason, he actually tries to help. The keyword however is tries because frankly Fedorre attempting comfort on another behalf is vaguely amusing and thirty shades of awkward.
Family:
Mother/Father-Deceased
Aunt- Feora
Siblings- Fallire, Renna, Redore, Faollon, and Raorik
Location: Rebellion
Rank: Packmember
Pack: Weyrhold Pack
History:
"You want me to tell you a happy story, with a shardin' happy family, and a happy little ending? Well, that's not going to happen."
Falling in the black
To start off this not so happy, and not so short tale, we have to go far into the wastes of the northern continent, far into a world of almost perpetual snow and ice. Up near crevices and rocky snow covered hills and mountains you'll start to find some of the Lesser Holds above High Reaches Weyr, and yet you'll need to keep going further because Fedorre is not just from the few outside holds, but further where two villages lay in the middle of nowheresiville Pern. Fedorre would never tell you what the name of his village is, he doesn't enjoy talking about his past at all let alone giving specifics, not to mention if anyone knew where he was from he'd be likely tossed out or killed. However, that's where he was born, the third son of a fairly older couple. He was their last child in a line of five, two girls and three boys, and even from the beginning things were not all happy-happy joy-joy for the babe.
Not to be a downer, though honestly if you're wanting a happy story you shouldn't come here for it, Fedorre had to work hard. His father was crippled from an accident a few turns before he was born, his mother dead from the harsh conditions of living that far into the snowy wastes. No one was really safe from having to pitch in some way or another; his sisters helped cook and clean and mend clothes, his brothers and he went off to hunt and work around the village patching up broken fences and learning simple skills. They learned to be self-sufficient he supposed, and Fedorre thanks his childhood for this alone. Even within his family things weren't perfect. The cold brought in sickness often and having older parents, his father remarried a few turns after his mother died, meant they were not the strong, healthy young folk that tended to survive such things. By the time Fedorre was 12 his new mother had succumbed to conditions of living as an “outlander” as the villagers sometimes called themselves, the second female figure in his life to go, and his father was no better off than he had been at the young boy's birth.
So, what was a boy and his brothers to do at that age? Surely not go into a hold to make a small fortune somehow or try and get whisked away by riders to become a candidate, no those things involved leaving the small village and thus leaving his family. The five children banded together taking care of their father as best they could, but even he went a turn later after his new wife had died. It was just them then, and the three boys vowed to take care of their sisters and not allow them to fall to become drudges within their home, or worse mistresses for the Village's leaders to use.
Slipping through the cracks
As I said there were two villages up here in these snowy wastelands, and they weren't exactly friendly except for whenever they needed trade. Often the two would get into arguments, and passing from one to the other was not only hard because of the landscape, but also was dangerous because you never knew what sort of greeting you would get. What both Village leaders did love though was pitting their guardsmen and hunters against one another to see who the stronger and fitter village was. The boys were "drafted" into these games at their will, wanting the money that was given for both protecting the village and securing that month's winning. They had known how to hunt, now they learned to fight.
Falling to the depths, can I ever go back
It was more than that though, before Fedorre new it he was fighting not only the other village's guards, but his brother's as well. The young man was becoming increasingly withdrawn and secluded from his family, snapping at his sisters and starting fights with his brothers. Sick of it one day, the younger sister told him to leave and he did. Little by little Fedorre began to collect work for himself in the larger villages and Holds nearby, doing "chores" for them by dealing with unwilling people in debt or on occasion worked as a body guard and guide to make sure voyages from Hold to Hold went accordingly and without too many hitches. Fedorre had become a hired hand. It paid well, he had fun in a twisted sort of sense, and then the inevitable happened...he actually killed someone who innocently got in the way and he ran the other way without looking back.
Dreaming of the way it used to be
Angry and confused, the man went south beyond the borders of the Northern Continent and hitched a ride on one of the boats going to Ista. They ended up having to stop however at another small island, habituated by a group of trader like people, this was Rindell before the Rebels found it. He found a new home of sorts with them, though he never really allowed himself to get too close. For a while he even allowed himself to be taken into a family, the children calling him their big brother. It is these “siblings” that he found the three Firelizards with that impressed to him and named Coal, Pepper and Ember, and it is from these siblings a turn before that which gave him Blizzard. Eventually though curiosity won over and the man decided to return home after turns of having been gone, leaving his pets with his "family" back on the island. When he arrived it should have been expected, and yet what he found shook him to the core.
One brother had died and the other had become a drunkard who still fought for the petty village leaders they used to be controlled by. Instead of trying to turn the older man around though, Fedorre left him, sickened by the state and unable to help his sibling cope. He attempted to find his two sisters next, and the older was not hard to get a hold of. She had stooped as low, or at least in his mind, to become the leader's mistress of their village just as he had always warned against. The younger sister found Fedorre that night he had arrived. Somehow she had only become a drudge and was still sane where the other two had lost themselves. Not wanting to risk losing the last member of his family, Fedorre took his sister and headed back to his home on the small island.
Can you hear me?
Before he could make his way there though, word of the rebellion traveled to them and the young man was shocked to find out that it was on the very island where he had been living for the past few turns. Going back, he reunited with his pets that he had left there for the journey home, and took himself and his sister Fallire to the rebellion. He didn’t want to impress one of the dragons, in fact Fedorre himself traveled around the familiar lands while his sister stayed in the nearby village, her brother not trusting the riders that were being transferred to the new rebellion. When everyone on the island was shocked by the sudden leave of Noita and her Knights, Fed could only feel suspicion. Those suspicions were only cemented further as new groups arose and a new leadership was created, and with Rindell Weyrhold still small and needing the help of outside Weyrs, the young man decided to journey back to the village for his sister…except when he arrived, Fallire had decided to leave for Trelis Weyr. Once again, the brother had to go find the last of his family.
Before that could happen though fate stepped in once more. The village had a small clutch of eggs being laid by their oldest Queen, a Gold who would soon between with her elderly handler. He woke during the ruckous of people going to stand, and watching it was surprised when a dark red beast shattered its shell. The wheret was dangerous from the moment he hatched, but Fedorre understood it for what it really was. The creature wanted to prove itself, and it wanted to be seen and noticed. Fedorre knew how that felt, he had once been like that at a younger age. When it started to attack its siblings and candidates though, Fedorre jumped in front of a young boy and tackled the wheret to the ground, the garnet biting down on his arm leaving scars before letting his voice seep into his handler's mind.
Fedorre's blood now Fedosk's blood.
Two turns later, Fedorre is finally graduated from wherlinghood, but he cannot leave the island willingly. These people that have become his family needed him much too much, and though he desperately wants to know that Fallire is alright, he knows it is not yet time.
FEDOSK
Name: Fedosk
Pronunciation: Fed-oz-k
Age: 2 turns
Rank: Garnet
Size: 6.5 feet
Color Codes:
Main: 800000
Marking 1: 1d0000
Marking 2: c90202
Appearance:
Just as his personality would make it seem, his appearance follows suit. Fedosk is a monster of a wher. At 6 and a half feet long he is at the top of his length, and to be honest he's creeping in on the larger wher's lengths too. It's more than that though, he just looks dangerous. His snout is lengthened and thin, a crocodile's jaws ready to chop down on anyone he comes by. His headknobs are short though, and his nose is blunted from a few too many hits.
His body is strong and built more like a hyena than anything else, his tail flowing from that in the usual Garnet's whip-like appendage. His legs however are bulky and shortened somewhat giving him a wobbling and hobbling look when walking or running. Over his body is a dark, blood red marked by an almost black and bright crimson in tribal stripes and bands. His small wings, the membranes of which are practically non-existent on some sails anymore after so much wear and tear, are a much lighter and paler shade of red.
Personality:
Fedosk is a force to be reckoned with. Not only is he crafty for a creature that so many think are without wits, but he is just crazy enough to try anything. He's not so bloodthirsty that he is uncontrollable, but there is that general craze that all of his color seem to have. He is blunt as well, not taking time at all to decide what he must do. If Fedosk is anything, it is not a strategist. He has no time for messing with plans thankyouverymuch, he would rather just go out and kill whatever is bugging everyone.
When it gets down to the knitty-gritty, like with his handler, Fedosk will get what must be done, done. That is not to mean that it is done cleanly, efficiently, or even well though. He just does the job whichever way he can and then moves onto the next one. He's angry at everyone it seems as well, seeking a way to prove himself, which is something Fedorre can understand. In many ways, he is Fedorre as a younger man first entering the rings where his brothers and he were made to fight.
Eager, Competitive, and out for Blood.
Mind-Voice (If applicable):
....you think safe? Wrong. Very, very wrong.