| Brawley O'Ceallach | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 13 2010, 12:56 AM (144 Views) | |
| Brawley O'Ceallach | Dec 13 2010, 12:56 AM Post #1 |
![]()
Warlord Prince
![]()
|
![]() BRAWLEY O’CEALLACH You walk into the altar, your body relaxed and your mind focused. The large, oversized doors close as the sun dips below the horizon. The darkness creeps around you and for a moment, you feel as though you are completely alone when a warm and elderly voice comes from the center of the altar. “Welcome my child and may the Darkness bless you. You are here to prove your worthiness to enter the realms beyond this world. Let us begin. Please, tell me about yourself. What is your name? How old are you and what is your caste?” Brawley O’Ceallach, 1745, Warlord Prince “Yes yes. I was wondering when the Darkness would send you to me. What jewels has the Darkness gifted you with my child?” Sapphire, JP 98 to Gray, JP 64 “A beautiful set of jewels are they not? Where do you come from and where are you going?” Dhemlan Birthplace, Dea al Mon Residence “Now, let us begin with the real information. My eye sight has begun to fail me so please, what do you look like?” Standing at a proud 6’4” Brawley is an imposing male. Wide shoulders and narrow hips combined with muscles in all the right places have women turn their heads when he walks, or better struts, by. Other males eye him with caution, since he carries himself with the air of someone who knows how to get his point across with his fists or a blade. His bronze skin tone and dark brown hair, compliment his golden eyes. Tall, dark and handsome, is the perfect description for him. He wears his dark brown hair at shoulders length, sometimes he will tie it back, but otherwise he keeps it open and somewhat tousled. His habit of running his hands through it makes sure, that it never looks tamed. Dark golden eyes turn into orange simmering orbs, when he is upset and into yellow, piercing stars, when he rides the Killing Edge. A full mouth that seems to be constantly upturned into a contagious smile under a straight nose, fit perfectly with his facial bone structure. Dark brown leather pants and shirt is his usual travel outfit, accompanied by knee high brown leather boots. For special occasions he will dress up and looks dashing in black dress pants and dress shirt, however getting him into a tuxedo is nearly impossible. He hates stuffy clothes and it would take a good amount of patience and wrangling with him to make him dress in one. In his spare time he can be seen in jeans, more often than not without a shirt. Brawley is proud of his body, centuries of working in the Guards have given him a chiseled chest, a six pack and huge biceps. His thighs are huge and muscular as well, he still works out on a regular basis, keeping his body in top shape. He is always accompanied by bow and arrow as well as a sword, when he travels. His statue alone can deter trouble makers and he loves to intimidate potential rivals that way as well. “And your personality? What is that like?” Brawley is a mix of small child, adolescent teenager and grown man. With a temper that rivals none and throwing a tantrum is just as likely, as fit of laughter from him. He is a true Warlord Prince, just not quite grown up as of yet. Riding the Killing Edge seems like a sport to him, he is vicious and unpredictable once he gets angered and it does not take much to grate against his temper. A wrong look or remark and he is starting to walk a fine line at the Killing Edge. He is a formidable enemy and a fierce friend, it takes him a while to trust others, but once he decides someone is his friend, he will back him/her regardless of what is to come. As vicious as he can be, he is a great fusser. So much so, that woman rather flee, than stay around him, when he starts to fuss. Brawley tends to go overboard a lot; he has not learned yet to find a medium ground on his emotional upheavals. Having never really learned how to deal with his emotions, he is unsure on how to deal with them at times. So he will go from one extreme to the next without hesitation. There is a gentle side to him, not a lot of people get to see it or experience it. He cares deeply for the ones he loves and would do anything for them. This is hidden well by his cocky attitude; he knows who he is and what he can do and will tell anyone, or show anyone, who dares to question him. Well aware of the way women and men look at him, he carries himself with a lofty attitude. Nothing can possibly harm him and he will pound anyone into the ground who dares to get in his way. Brawling and fighting are his favorite past time, he will show anyone what he can do with his fist. Breaking bones and snapping wrists with his bare hands gives him immense pleasure, as far as he is concerned, no one fights better than he does. He is weapons trained by the finest warrior Dhemlan had to offer, his father. Sword, axe, bow and arrow or spear, Brawley can handle them all with deadly accuracy and it shows when he fights. His strut is unmatched, he will wink and grin at the women passing him by, there might even be a whistle accompanying his wink. Every woman is considered prey and he will woo her until he gets what he wants from her. He would never try and take what is not willingly given by his prey, which does not mean he won’t try every trick up his sleeve to make the woman of his choice want him; he can be very persuasive and charming. “Is there anything you particularly enjoy or dislike?” Brawley definitely likes to brawl and does so very enthusiastically and with gusto. He shows his bruises off with pride and certain flair. Drinking is one of his favorite past times and he can be as drunk as one can get and still be a charmer to the females around him. Having a good time is a top priority and getting laid just makes his day. There is nothing worse than being lied to and he hates it with a passion; he might bend the truth for a beautiful woman, but he would never outright lie. Anyone disrespecting a female will learn that Brawley has no tolerance for such nonsense at all, violence against a woman will quickly send him to the Killing Edge. He might not have any manners, but somehow the Blood Laws are deeply ingrained and any violation of them is a thorn in his side. “An aimless wonderer is hardly a good thing. What are your goals?” Getting drunk, having a beautiful woman in his bed and the next fight around the corner. “Ah yes, I see. Before you tell me your story, who are some important people in your life?” Father: Aengus O’Ceallach, Prince, Opal to Green - deceased Mother: Shannon O’Riley, Priestess, White to Rose - deceased Brothers: Aaron O'Ceallach, Warlord Prince, Summer Sky to Opal, 2980 Brandon O'Ceallach, Warlord, Rose to Purple Dusk, deceased A candle is lifted, revealing a priestess on a lounging couch just off of the altar. She is elderly but still very refined and coherent. She moves to one end of the couch. “Come and sit next to me and tell me about your story. I want to know about your history.” He was born in Dhemlan to a Master of the Guard in a minor court and a Priestess; he would be their third and last child. His father was a Green jeweled Prince by the name of Aengus O’Ceallach and his other was a Rose jeweled Priestess Shannon O’Riley, they cared for all their children deeply and loved them. His brothers were a lot older than he was, Aaron, an Opal jeweled Warlord Prince, is his oldest brother and Brendan, a Purple Dusk jeweled Warlord, and was the second brother. The first few years of his life, he had two older brothers looking out for him. They took him along everywhere they went and fulfilled his every wish. He was spoiled rotten by the time he was four years old and that when his temper started to show. Anything could just rile him up and make him snarl, his little feet stomping on the floor and screaming his little head off, was trying everyone’s patience. Brawley had a temper that rivaled no one; his parents were at a loss and did not quite know how to deal with him at times. Brawley had his Birthright Ceremony at five years of age and was very proud, when he walked away with the Sapphire jewel. His parents were happy for him, but now they had a Warlord Prince on their hand that was not only darker in his jewel, but also more temperamental than his brothers or father. He was so used getting his way with his older brothers, he never once thought anyone could say ‘No’ to him and if someone did, he was throwing a temper tantrum that had his brothers running at times. As much as his family loved him, they had no idea how to make Brawley stop once he was throwing a fit and it was grating on all their nerves and tempers. The older he got the more temper he showed, his family tried to teach him how to keep it leashed, but it still galloped through with him at times and then he was left with trying to explain what had happened that time. Going to school was out of the question and his mother taught him with the help of tutors at home, he was not a bad student, but a very impatient one. When he was 15 years of age, he decided he had enough of studying and he turned to his father to be trained, he wanted to be a Guard. His mother was not thrilled by that idea, she was trying to talk him out of it for some time, but Brawley insisted until she finally agreed to talk to his father about it. After long nights of debates between his mother and father it was decided that Brawley would be trained as a Guard to give him an outlet for his temper, it was not something his mother had wanted for any of her sons. Warriors were feared by some of the people where they lived, they were the strongest and best trained males in the province. Unfortunately there had been a few incidents were a few of them had started fights in the small tavern and it simply gave them a bad name with most of the people in the village for a while. His father worked hard on improving the general sentiment about the guards, but there were always a few people that would not change their minds. His father had trained every last one of them and knew exactly what his son would have to go through to excel as a Guard. It would be harsh and grueling, but deep inside his father knew that Brawley would be doing just fine. As soon as Brawley was old enough his father took him in for training, after years of training and camps Brawley finally became a Guard. It helped him learn how to leash his temper successfully and re-direct his anger, when needed. His training had been extensive and hard; he was one of the best warriors they had. Then he was thrown into the studies of Blood Law and Protocol, he was not a very good student and made his way half assed through those studies. Of course, now he hardly remembers anything about Protocol and more often than not, he shoves his foot into his mouth. Good thing, he has such a disarming smile, or he would himself in way more trouble for his manners than he does. Overstepping boundaries is no big deal to him and he will at least try and push the envelope as far as he can. Brawley had learned how to read and write, he was pretty good in math and physics, but he always loved weapons training and spent every free moment honing his skills. To this day he rather spars than read a book, learning out of books is just not his thing. He prefers a more hands on form of learning and studying. He is smart and has common sense, he just does not use it a lot. Brawley enjoyed being in the Guards, it gave him an outlet for his temper and it turned out, that he was very good at what he was doing. Before long he was made squadron leader, now that he was responsible for the lives of others he was really thriving in the Guards. He spent a few hundred years in the Guards with his father as the Master of the Guard, one day they were on a patrol and were attacked, when it was over his father was dead and so where most of the Guards. Brawley was injured and left for dead along with two other Guards. They had been attacked by mercenaries lead by a Red jeweled Warlord Prince, the survivors were soon found and after a few days of intense healings Brawley was as good as new. He was very shaken by his father’s death and soon thereafter left the Guard, when his contract was up. Brawley was 1056 when his father died. Not long thereafter Brawley started to question himself, if he could have avoided the death of his men and his father. Guilt ridden he started to drink excessively, he wanted to forget. He was blaming himself for what had happened, even though everyone told him, that he had done everything as he should have, but Brawley would not hear of it, he simply ‘knew’ he had failed. For a while Brawley lived at home and started to take on private escorts, after one particularly long one he came back home and found his mother and his brothers on their sick beds. There was no hope for his mother and Brandon, both of them died within hours from each other. Aaron pulled through but never regained his full health back, the disease killed almost three quarters of the village they lived in within a few days. The only Healer in their small community was the last one to die; Aaron decided to stay in his parent’s home, while Brawley left his home for good. Not once did he look back, there were too many bad memories and he was determined to move on, he was also avoiding Aaron’s attempts to make him forgive himself for his father’s death, Brawley was not ready for that yet. He started to drink heavily for a few decades, taking escorts to support his habit. While on escort duties he stayed completely sober, until the job was completed and then he could not get fast enough into a tavern to drown his sorrows in alcohol. To this day he holds himself responsible for his father’s death, thinking he should have been more attentive and more on his Guard, when in reality he had done the best he possibly could have done under the circumstances. He takes drinking very seriously, he takes his escort duties just as seriously, as well as any brawl that is thrown his way. The escorts took him all over Dhemlan, with no place to call home; Brawley became a nomad and settled for the short time off between escorts wherever he ended up. A tavern with a bar and plenty of whiskey was the way to go for him; soon he had a reputation for being an excellent escort, but also for starting brawls for nothing more than a look or snide remark. Brawley became even more volatile, when he was drinking, His reputation preceded him and he was hired for some of the most difficult escorts soon, some took him out of Dhemlan and into Dea al Mon, some were not just simple escorts, but Brawley never once asked what he was guarding. He made sure they got to where they wanted to go and, if it was required, back to where they had come from. His last escort brought him to Grenthel in Dea al Mon, it was one of his legit escorts this time. A young Healer was looking for her sister and had found out that she had moved to Grenthel. Brawley was contracted by her father, a former Guard himself and took very good care of the young witch. After a few weeks of travel they arrived in Grenthel, he loved it here so much, and nothing reminds him of Dhemlan and his family here, he decided to make it his new home. It seems like Brawley the nomad had finally found a place where he could put his boots up and call home. He is still available for escort duties, but he won’t take any escorts back into Dhemlan. Drinking and brawling are still his favorite past time and he can be found in any tavern that sells his brand of whiskey. The old priestess nods her head as you finish. She is clearly thinking and weighing the information that you have just given her. “Perhaps I need just a little more. Could you give me an example of how you plan to play in the world?” Third charie The old priestess narrows her eyes and tilts her head to the side, looking behind you. “And you, behind this wonderful member of our story, who are you?” Gothmom Shalar Tahlon, Warlord, Purple Dusk to Green Marlian Tahlon, Hearth Witch, Rose to Purple Dusk Caleb Murdock, Warlord Prince, Yellow to Rose – broken back to Yellow “And have you read and agreed to the rules of this place?” YES Again, she pauses and thinks. The air is beginning to lighten as the morning light comes around. The Priestess rises and approaches the altar. She begins lighting the candles in a practiced and comfortable order. There is movement beyond the candles as the altar opens to a new world. “Thank you for your time and stories. You are free to proceed. Please have fun but remember, everything has a price.” Original Site: Witch Storm (http://s4.zetaboards.com/Witch_Storm/index/) Link to Original Profile: http://s4.zetaboards.com/Witch_Storm/topic/778583/1/ Jewels Requested:Sapphire to Grey Caste(s) Requested:Warlord Prince Plot Goals: Finding a witch that can handle this brawling and boasting bear of a man and teach him some manners. To guide him towards his destiny as a caring and loving man, because despite his behavior, he has the potential to be a great Warlord Prince with all the trimmings. Edited by Brawley O'Ceallach, Dec 15 2010, 10:43 PM.
|
![]() |
|
| SRawr | Dec 15 2010, 08:19 PM Post #2 |
![]()
Administrator
|
Everything looks good, just could you switch the name Oterra to one of the provinces we have. Other than that it looks good. Edit that and then I'll set him up! |
![]() |
|
| Brawley O'Ceallach | Dec 15 2010, 10:44 PM Post #3 |
![]()
Warlord Prince
![]()
|
After much huffing and puffing his cocky highness decided on Grenthel.......I told you he will be a pain........ |
![]() |
|
| Siren | Dec 21 2010, 11:32 AM Post #4 |
|
Admin
|
ACCEPTED! |
![]() |
|
| « Previous Topic · Dea al Mon · Next Topic » |










2:00 AM Jul 11