Post by "Amir Waters" on Nov 10, 2010 0:17:05 GMT -5
Name: A long list of derogatory and demeaning nicknames have suited him, as have a few childish pet names given to him by the others he's worked beside that had little meaning to him. They were often senseless nicknames, given to him in order to mock his frail figure that left him a poor slave. He's gone by names such as Bishop and Raine. His current selection will be his best friend's name: Amir Waters, a dedication to a dear friend of his who died. Though not something he is called by strangers, he nickname “Durga” holds sentimental value to him. It translates from Hindi into “the inaccessible” or the invincible”, but is also a goddess in the culture. His true name is Darien Westergaard, though He hasn't gone by it since he was ten years old, when he was sold into slavery and began using alias' to hide his tracks in case he managed to escape.
Age: 19 years
Occupation: Currently unemployed, but will get a job as soon as one comes his way. Until then, he's stuck living wherever he can find a place.
Affiliation: While he has no problem with the Bertrand mafia, as he only knows of it from his most recent owner, He has no association with them. He prefers not to be associated with such groups, particularly because he is known amongst their allies and would be putting himself at risk of getting captured.
Physical appearance: The first thing one notices when they see him is that his name does not match his appearance. He is by no means of Hindu descent, with his silver hair and golden eyes. His skin is tanned but not particularly dark. And though his feminine, lanky figure often leads people to believe he is tall, he only stands at about 5'71/2”. Anyone who decides to take a peek at his hips might notice the code “P8172” is tattooed there. This was his auction number; a preference an early slave merchant that took hold of him had. While he's attractive, he's not one that anyone describes as radiant, which he rather prefers. He has the type of face that many like, but it often goes ignored by his distant presence and his uncanny ability to blend himself into the crowd and appear unnoticeable.
He is actually a natural blonde, but after he'd escaped, he cut and dyed his once shoulder-length golden locks in hopes he could become unrecognizable enough that he could remain hidden in crowds. His clothing were given to him by a friend of a friend, who assured him he could pay him back at a later time. It consists of a vest, undershirt, gloves, boots, a pair of reasonably-fitted dark pants. He also wears a tag around his neck with the name “Amir Revati” along with further personal information. This was a gift he received from a dear friend since deceased, and also named himself after in honour of his memory.
Personality: He is, in a word, wary. He has found over time that there are very few people that are to be trusted, and those who you can trust will often disappear. As a result, he is not particularly interested in human contact. He'd much prefer to stay out of any form of close relationship, particularly because he still has an emptiness left behind from the death of his dear friend. He finds sentimental value in everything that one he cares about gives to him, from his mocking yet sweet nickname to the last item he'd been given by his beloved friend. To this day, the term Durga makes him smile.
He's relatively calm, for the most part; something that has always been a part of him. He's always taken abuse wholeheartedly, and kept himself a mystery even from Amir, which allowed his nickname to suit him in multiple senses. However, he has become even more detached from people ,and even the world itself since the death of Amir. He'll avoid people as best as he can, and when forced to be around them, he takes on his old routine from when he was enslaved of “speak only when spoken to.” He's found this works quite well in keeping himself from growing fond of anyone and allows him to view them in the same way he viewed his owners.
He's not particularly foolish, nor is he particularly intelligent, but he handles himself well under stress. He's rather quick when he needs to be, a skill that has proven time and time again as useful, particularly in putting together an on-the-spot alias. His most common skill as a slave was to preform. He was a singer, when he wasn't serving trays of food to the wealthy, and he rather enjoyed this part of his imprisonment. It gave him the chance to be free of the shackles that bound them into servitude and allowed him to do something he enjoyed. However, with Amir gone, his spirits are low, and he's not sure he will ever do this again.
Strengths: He is quick-witted and able to keep a calm demeanor when necessary. Though he is not emotionless, he does tend to put on a “poker face” when he sees it necessary. As a result, he is a skilled liar and a clever trickster despite his only mediocre intelligence. He's also good with words, allowing him to think of aliases within a matter of seconds. He's also quite quick; a natural trait of his he often forgets he has.
Weaknesses: He has no knowledge of weapons or how to use them. He's never handled a knife for combat purtposes, and about the only thing he can do with one is cut up a tomato. He's also naturally weak and frail. He was one of the better-fed slaves because they felt he needed to gain weight so he could build strength, but he remained thin despite. Furthermore, his social skills leave him with no allies.
Weapons: He does carry a few butterfly knives given to him by a friend of Amir's, though he has no idea how to handle them.
Background: There was once a boy names Darien Westergaard. Darien lived with a woman and a man he called mother and father, whom he loved very much, but they struggled financially. Mother and father would fight over finances for as long as he could remember, and over time this led them to take things away from their son for money rather than giving him things as gifts. It began as chilhood toys, then slowly elevated into his wardrobe, and eventually his diet. They paid less and less attention to him, and eventually their son was trial in comparison to the financial struggle they were going through.
They handed him a sheet of paper one day and told him to go there. They told him he would need to stay with these people for a while. He was ten years old, and so when he walked by and saw people behind the gate, staring at him with sunken, dirty faces, he knew something was wrong. But his mother and father had told him to go there. So he knocked on the door, and was greeted by a friendly-enough seeming gentleman who invited him in and asked his name, he responded with the name of his brother, who had died before he was born “Lore” he responded, and with that, he was shackled and his parents were sent compensation for their contribution to their ever-growing collection of workers to sell off.
He lived in a small room, filled with children and teenagers, scared and alone. He remained there for a year before he was sold to a family who wanted someone to watch over their child. She was a devilish one, and he could never quite get the hang of watching the youth. The cook there, a 15-year-old boy by the name of Amir Revati, would often laugh cheerfully at his attempts, and eventually began helping him with the monstrous little girl. They went through this routine for months, until the owners of the home found out about Amir's helping him and, enraged by his slacking and Darien's inability to do his job, sold the two off together.
They returned to the harsh conditions of he slave-houses, but they had one another after that. Amir questioned why he had not told the own that his name was Lore. He explained that his distrust had led him to see it as a good idea to keep his true identity hidden from them. He seemed to understand this logic.
He two were luck to be purchased together the second time, and got the chance to work together again ,but the third time around, they were separated. They hated this, and neither met their potential. They were sold again and again, and finally found one another working together again. Amir would watch over Darien, and in turn Darien would do his best to please the elder boy. He'd call him “Durga” whenever he grew frustrated with the way he was treated in the houses and assured him things would be better for them one day.
But they only got worse. Their last owner, a Bertrand ally, Was extremely aggressive and short-tempered. Amir would often try to protect Darien, leaving him batter and bruised at a constant while Darien would only receive the occasional beating.
After a year of being with the cruel owner, Amir packed their things and went to get Darien. When he woke flustered, he sat at his bedside and assured him he would get him out of the terrible place. He took off the tags he wore around his neck—proof that he'd once belonged to a merchant—and placed it around his neck. He explained that this was in case they should get separated or something should happen. He also assured him that he'd left him information in the bag for where he would need to go if he should have to travel on his own. After that, they took their leave late into the night.
It was the next morning that the owner's men infiltrated the woods and found the slaves sleeping in the leaves. Amir insisted he take the bag while he distracted them for him. With the men hot on Amir's trail, Darien's escape was simple. But once he was easily out of reach of the men, a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the trees and Darien fell to the grass in tears. It was Amir's voice. It was his final cry, and he knew it.
Defeated and no longer eager for a new life, he pulled the bag back over his shoulder and made his way to the place he was told to go. He couldn't let his life go to waste---he'd find his way out. And while he blamed himself, he knew Amir wouldn't be pleased if he gave in and allowed for his capture and execution.
When he got to the shanty, he was given reasonable traveler's clothing, a ticket for a train and a ferry, and the addresses of a few people who might be willing to take him in. He began his trek and landed himself in Illipse. Freedom was something he wanted to cherish, but all he could find was apathy in this wondrous place. Amir was gone and with that, he no longer felt the urge to jump into living. He leaned against the wall of a brick building and clutched Amir's tag between a taught fist. The taste of freedom was a pricey one, and it hardly seemed worth it to him.
I'll give you guys a ref once i scan it.
Age: 19 years
Occupation: Currently unemployed, but will get a job as soon as one comes his way. Until then, he's stuck living wherever he can find a place.
Affiliation: While he has no problem with the Bertrand mafia, as he only knows of it from his most recent owner, He has no association with them. He prefers not to be associated with such groups, particularly because he is known amongst their allies and would be putting himself at risk of getting captured.
Physical appearance: The first thing one notices when they see him is that his name does not match his appearance. He is by no means of Hindu descent, with his silver hair and golden eyes. His skin is tanned but not particularly dark. And though his feminine, lanky figure often leads people to believe he is tall, he only stands at about 5'71/2”. Anyone who decides to take a peek at his hips might notice the code “P8172” is tattooed there. This was his auction number; a preference an early slave merchant that took hold of him had. While he's attractive, he's not one that anyone describes as radiant, which he rather prefers. He has the type of face that many like, but it often goes ignored by his distant presence and his uncanny ability to blend himself into the crowd and appear unnoticeable.
He is actually a natural blonde, but after he'd escaped, he cut and dyed his once shoulder-length golden locks in hopes he could become unrecognizable enough that he could remain hidden in crowds. His clothing were given to him by a friend of a friend, who assured him he could pay him back at a later time. It consists of a vest, undershirt, gloves, boots, a pair of reasonably-fitted dark pants. He also wears a tag around his neck with the name “Amir Revati” along with further personal information. This was a gift he received from a dear friend since deceased, and also named himself after in honour of his memory.
Personality: He is, in a word, wary. He has found over time that there are very few people that are to be trusted, and those who you can trust will often disappear. As a result, he is not particularly interested in human contact. He'd much prefer to stay out of any form of close relationship, particularly because he still has an emptiness left behind from the death of his dear friend. He finds sentimental value in everything that one he cares about gives to him, from his mocking yet sweet nickname to the last item he'd been given by his beloved friend. To this day, the term Durga makes him smile.
He's relatively calm, for the most part; something that has always been a part of him. He's always taken abuse wholeheartedly, and kept himself a mystery even from Amir, which allowed his nickname to suit him in multiple senses. However, he has become even more detached from people ,and even the world itself since the death of Amir. He'll avoid people as best as he can, and when forced to be around them, he takes on his old routine from when he was enslaved of “speak only when spoken to.” He's found this works quite well in keeping himself from growing fond of anyone and allows him to view them in the same way he viewed his owners.
He's not particularly foolish, nor is he particularly intelligent, but he handles himself well under stress. He's rather quick when he needs to be, a skill that has proven time and time again as useful, particularly in putting together an on-the-spot alias. His most common skill as a slave was to preform. He was a singer, when he wasn't serving trays of food to the wealthy, and he rather enjoyed this part of his imprisonment. It gave him the chance to be free of the shackles that bound them into servitude and allowed him to do something he enjoyed. However, with Amir gone, his spirits are low, and he's not sure he will ever do this again.
Strengths: He is quick-witted and able to keep a calm demeanor when necessary. Though he is not emotionless, he does tend to put on a “poker face” when he sees it necessary. As a result, he is a skilled liar and a clever trickster despite his only mediocre intelligence. He's also good with words, allowing him to think of aliases within a matter of seconds. He's also quite quick; a natural trait of his he often forgets he has.
Weaknesses: He has no knowledge of weapons or how to use them. He's never handled a knife for combat purtposes, and about the only thing he can do with one is cut up a tomato. He's also naturally weak and frail. He was one of the better-fed slaves because they felt he needed to gain weight so he could build strength, but he remained thin despite. Furthermore, his social skills leave him with no allies.
Weapons: He does carry a few butterfly knives given to him by a friend of Amir's, though he has no idea how to handle them.
Background: There was once a boy names Darien Westergaard. Darien lived with a woman and a man he called mother and father, whom he loved very much, but they struggled financially. Mother and father would fight over finances for as long as he could remember, and over time this led them to take things away from their son for money rather than giving him things as gifts. It began as chilhood toys, then slowly elevated into his wardrobe, and eventually his diet. They paid less and less attention to him, and eventually their son was trial in comparison to the financial struggle they were going through.
They handed him a sheet of paper one day and told him to go there. They told him he would need to stay with these people for a while. He was ten years old, and so when he walked by and saw people behind the gate, staring at him with sunken, dirty faces, he knew something was wrong. But his mother and father had told him to go there. So he knocked on the door, and was greeted by a friendly-enough seeming gentleman who invited him in and asked his name, he responded with the name of his brother, who had died before he was born “Lore” he responded, and with that, he was shackled and his parents were sent compensation for their contribution to their ever-growing collection of workers to sell off.
He lived in a small room, filled with children and teenagers, scared and alone. He remained there for a year before he was sold to a family who wanted someone to watch over their child. She was a devilish one, and he could never quite get the hang of watching the youth. The cook there, a 15-year-old boy by the name of Amir Revati, would often laugh cheerfully at his attempts, and eventually began helping him with the monstrous little girl. They went through this routine for months, until the owners of the home found out about Amir's helping him and, enraged by his slacking and Darien's inability to do his job, sold the two off together.
They returned to the harsh conditions of he slave-houses, but they had one another after that. Amir questioned why he had not told the own that his name was Lore. He explained that his distrust had led him to see it as a good idea to keep his true identity hidden from them. He seemed to understand this logic.
He two were luck to be purchased together the second time, and got the chance to work together again ,but the third time around, they were separated. They hated this, and neither met their potential. They were sold again and again, and finally found one another working together again. Amir would watch over Darien, and in turn Darien would do his best to please the elder boy. He'd call him “Durga” whenever he grew frustrated with the way he was treated in the houses and assured him things would be better for them one day.
But they only got worse. Their last owner, a Bertrand ally, Was extremely aggressive and short-tempered. Amir would often try to protect Darien, leaving him batter and bruised at a constant while Darien would only receive the occasional beating.
After a year of being with the cruel owner, Amir packed their things and went to get Darien. When he woke flustered, he sat at his bedside and assured him he would get him out of the terrible place. He took off the tags he wore around his neck—proof that he'd once belonged to a merchant—and placed it around his neck. He explained that this was in case they should get separated or something should happen. He also assured him that he'd left him information in the bag for where he would need to go if he should have to travel on his own. After that, they took their leave late into the night.
It was the next morning that the owner's men infiltrated the woods and found the slaves sleeping in the leaves. Amir insisted he take the bag while he distracted them for him. With the men hot on Amir's trail, Darien's escape was simple. But once he was easily out of reach of the men, a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the trees and Darien fell to the grass in tears. It was Amir's voice. It was his final cry, and he knew it.
Defeated and no longer eager for a new life, he pulled the bag back over his shoulder and made his way to the place he was told to go. He couldn't let his life go to waste---he'd find his way out. And while he blamed himself, he knew Amir wouldn't be pleased if he gave in and allowed for his capture and execution.
When he got to the shanty, he was given reasonable traveler's clothing, a ticket for a train and a ferry, and the addresses of a few people who might be willing to take him in. He began his trek and landed himself in Illipse. Freedom was something he wanted to cherish, but all he could find was apathy in this wondrous place. Amir was gone and with that, he no longer felt the urge to jump into living. He leaned against the wall of a brick building and clutched Amir's tag between a taught fist. The taste of freedom was a pricey one, and it hardly seemed worth it to him.
I'll give you guys a ref once i scan it.