Post by Weylon on Jan 12, 2010 5:11:29 GMT
Player’s Name: Lexi
Player's Gender: How lovely to be a woman…
Roleplay Experience: 5 years…now that it’s 2010. Woo!
Name: Weylon
Species: Gewin
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Appearance:
face claim: jamie bell
lupine
What Weylon lacks in size and height he makes up for in sheer muscle mass. The sturdy young Gewyn is solid muscle: a creature of bone and sinew with not an ounce of useless fat on his golden pelted body. The thick, shaggy honey colored hair is shot through with dirty blonde along his back, hackles and haunches. All color in his fur fades to pale milky white on his stomach. His eyes are a startling ice blue only half as cold as the soul behind them: they are the eyes of a killer.
human
Young Weylon is not very tall as far as Gewin go, standing at just barely six feet in height. He does, however make up for this in muscle mass. Weylon is built like a barroom brawler, with thick arms, strong shoulders and a short, compact torso. His legs are graceful but also thick with muscle from years of physical challenges. His features, while not being conventionally refined and handsome, have an utterly undeniable and melancholy charm about them. His cool blue eyes with their sad tilt, his boyishly messy hair and pouting lips combine with a many-times broken nose to create an alluring broken-hearted bad boy look that is the undoing of many of his victims.
Personality:
Weylon is, undoubtedly, a loose canon. He is an opportunist and an adept manipulator. The only constant about the wily young Gewin is that any and all of his actions have an angle that will somehow benefit him. Weylon sees no point in altruism or kindness: the world has never shown him goodness so he sees no reason not to be egocentric. Deception, ruthlessness, wit, observance, resourcefulness, and determination are the only things that have ever benefitted him so he sticks by them. Why take a chance on selflessness when selfishness is so much easier? If he helps others you can be sure he’s getting something out of it too.
One thing Weylon is adept at is reading others. While he is by no means perfect at it, it is a skill that he has honed over the years and one that he uses to great advantage. He sees minds as puzzles and likes toying with them. Other sentient beings are essentially tools and playthings from his point of view. He plays people with the skill of a first chair violinist: it is his virtuosity and his hobby. To be honest, he is something of a minor sociopath. Empathy is not something that comes easily to him, a fact that is the sharpest kind of double edged sword. His desires themselves are, for the most part, quite simple as the wolf in him is very strong. The things he wants and needs are basic and primal. He is, among other things, headstrong and a downright bulldog when it comes to getting what he wants. Once he sinks his teeth into an idea or desire, he doesn’t let go unless he thinks the objective is no longer profitable to him.
Like most Gewin, Weylon has no qualms about killing. Unlike most, he has a twisted fascination with death and dying. It’s a psychological thrill for him, to have the power of life and death over those he encounters, even if he does not act upon it. He sees the body, like the mind, as a great puzzle, a spectacular machine, and is constantly tinkering with ways to shut down the complex machine that is the body in his mind. Rarely does he meet a creature without contemplating how he could most efficiently end its life. He kills not only for sustenance, but for pleasure. It is not a vindictive or vengeful behavior, simply a product of his busy and relatively emotionless mind. To him, thoughts and actions like these are merely puzzles and are one of the few things that bring him contentment and joy. On the other hand, he is fully aware that his interests are acutely macabre and disturbing to others, which thoroughly delights him.
Biography:
Weylon has no family that he knows of. His mother died giving birth to him: he was to be her first child. He was not close to his father, a Gewyn who abandoned him with another female as a wet nurse and visited him but once or twice a year. Weylon remembers the names of neither his mother nor his father. He never grew close to his wet nurse or her cub, who treated him with little affection. When he was ten years old, his father stopped visiting. Weylon speculates that his sire was killed by the Guardians of Benevolence but harbors no more hatred towards the cats than he does towards anything else in the world. His father was not dear to him, so he did not mourn. He reasoned that if a strong and capable Gewyn such as his sire had let himself be overpowered by the village felines, he must have done something terrifically stupid and deserved it. When he was only fourteen, he set out on his own. He no longer wished to be around his nurse Betrys or his foster brother Emrys, an average Gewyn who, in his estimation was shortsighted, unimaginative, and thoroughly inconsequential. While Betrys provided him food and shelter, she blatantly favored her son, the elder of the two males by two years, which Weylon deeply and quietly resented. This hatred was his first great passion and it simmered quietly and furiously since childhood until his eighteenth year, when he happened upon Betrys one night. Pretending joy at seeing his old nurse, he charmed her into a conversation, earning her trust and convincing her that in his solitude he had realized how much he missed her mothering. The older she-Gewin was charmed and believed him, deciding to den with him that night. When morning came, Weylon left her there, not caring that if Emrys ever found his mother’s bloodied body it would be unburied and left for the birds. In fact, he rather liked the idea of his laughable foster brother finding his work. Since that day he has wandered throughout Branwen’s Cauldron, preying on anything that crossed his path when he was hungry and sometimes, for his amusement, even when he was not.
Player's Gender: How lovely to be a woman…
Roleplay Experience: 5 years…now that it’s 2010. Woo!
--------
Name: Weylon
Species: Gewin
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Appearance:
face claim: jamie bell
lupine
What Weylon lacks in size and height he makes up for in sheer muscle mass. The sturdy young Gewyn is solid muscle: a creature of bone and sinew with not an ounce of useless fat on his golden pelted body. The thick, shaggy honey colored hair is shot through with dirty blonde along his back, hackles and haunches. All color in his fur fades to pale milky white on his stomach. His eyes are a startling ice blue only half as cold as the soul behind them: they are the eyes of a killer.
human
Young Weylon is not very tall as far as Gewin go, standing at just barely six feet in height. He does, however make up for this in muscle mass. Weylon is built like a barroom brawler, with thick arms, strong shoulders and a short, compact torso. His legs are graceful but also thick with muscle from years of physical challenges. His features, while not being conventionally refined and handsome, have an utterly undeniable and melancholy charm about them. His cool blue eyes with their sad tilt, his boyishly messy hair and pouting lips combine with a many-times broken nose to create an alluring broken-hearted bad boy look that is the undoing of many of his victims.
Personality:
Weylon is, undoubtedly, a loose canon. He is an opportunist and an adept manipulator. The only constant about the wily young Gewin is that any and all of his actions have an angle that will somehow benefit him. Weylon sees no point in altruism or kindness: the world has never shown him goodness so he sees no reason not to be egocentric. Deception, ruthlessness, wit, observance, resourcefulness, and determination are the only things that have ever benefitted him so he sticks by them. Why take a chance on selflessness when selfishness is so much easier? If he helps others you can be sure he’s getting something out of it too.
One thing Weylon is adept at is reading others. While he is by no means perfect at it, it is a skill that he has honed over the years and one that he uses to great advantage. He sees minds as puzzles and likes toying with them. Other sentient beings are essentially tools and playthings from his point of view. He plays people with the skill of a first chair violinist: it is his virtuosity and his hobby. To be honest, he is something of a minor sociopath. Empathy is not something that comes easily to him, a fact that is the sharpest kind of double edged sword. His desires themselves are, for the most part, quite simple as the wolf in him is very strong. The things he wants and needs are basic and primal. He is, among other things, headstrong and a downright bulldog when it comes to getting what he wants. Once he sinks his teeth into an idea or desire, he doesn’t let go unless he thinks the objective is no longer profitable to him.
Like most Gewin, Weylon has no qualms about killing. Unlike most, he has a twisted fascination with death and dying. It’s a psychological thrill for him, to have the power of life and death over those he encounters, even if he does not act upon it. He sees the body, like the mind, as a great puzzle, a spectacular machine, and is constantly tinkering with ways to shut down the complex machine that is the body in his mind. Rarely does he meet a creature without contemplating how he could most efficiently end its life. He kills not only for sustenance, but for pleasure. It is not a vindictive or vengeful behavior, simply a product of his busy and relatively emotionless mind. To him, thoughts and actions like these are merely puzzles and are one of the few things that bring him contentment and joy. On the other hand, he is fully aware that his interests are acutely macabre and disturbing to others, which thoroughly delights him.
Biography:
Weylon has no family that he knows of. His mother died giving birth to him: he was to be her first child. He was not close to his father, a Gewyn who abandoned him with another female as a wet nurse and visited him but once or twice a year. Weylon remembers the names of neither his mother nor his father. He never grew close to his wet nurse or her cub, who treated him with little affection. When he was ten years old, his father stopped visiting. Weylon speculates that his sire was killed by the Guardians of Benevolence but harbors no more hatred towards the cats than he does towards anything else in the world. His father was not dear to him, so he did not mourn. He reasoned that if a strong and capable Gewyn such as his sire had let himself be overpowered by the village felines, he must have done something terrifically stupid and deserved it. When he was only fourteen, he set out on his own. He no longer wished to be around his nurse Betrys or his foster brother Emrys, an average Gewyn who, in his estimation was shortsighted, unimaginative, and thoroughly inconsequential. While Betrys provided him food and shelter, she blatantly favored her son, the elder of the two males by two years, which Weylon deeply and quietly resented. This hatred was his first great passion and it simmered quietly and furiously since childhood until his eighteenth year, when he happened upon Betrys one night. Pretending joy at seeing his old nurse, he charmed her into a conversation, earning her trust and convincing her that in his solitude he had realized how much he missed her mothering. The older she-Gewin was charmed and believed him, deciding to den with him that night. When morning came, Weylon left her there, not caring that if Emrys ever found his mother’s bloodied body it would be unburied and left for the birds. In fact, he rather liked the idea of his laughable foster brother finding his work. Since that day he has wandered throughout Branwen’s Cauldron, preying on anything that crossed his path when he was hungry and sometimes, for his amusement, even when he was not.
ADMIN NOTE:
O.O You weren't kidding. Sick lil' bastard. Just make sure he doesn't chew up the furniture.
O.O You weren't kidding. Sick lil' bastard. Just make sure he doesn't chew up the furniture.
