| James "West" Wilhelmy; Landen; Ready for Review! | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 31 2011, 08:38 PM (281 Views) | |
| West Wilhelmy | Jan 31 2011, 08:38 PM Post #1 |
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James “West” Wilhelmy Age: 29 Caste: Landen Race: Shaladorian Birth Territory: Shalador Home Territory: Shalador Description Physical Description: James “West” Wilhelmy is true to his Shaladorian lineage. His skin is a healthy, natural bronze spattered with an array of freckles and his hair is a rich black-brown. His wide, narrow eyes are the same warm chocolate brown as his hair and lined with equally dark lashes. West’s thick brows sit low over his eyes giving him a severe front when paired with his stern, straight mouth. His nose is a prominent part on his strong face, the bridge still straight despite the abuse it’s taken over the years. The youth has started to leave his face and the strength he has acquired shows in his features—his squared jaw, rounded chin, and wide forehead. James’ little ears stick off the side of his face, made obvious by the dark hair that he usually keeps short. It’s not rare to see West smile since he loves a good joke, but he usually keeps a blank face. Unfortunately his blank faces look uninterested and often rather angry. But his eyes convey a great deal of emotion and intelligence, and they are indeed handsome in their own right with highlights of amber in sunlight. At 6’2” West is a force to be reckoned with, his tall form chiseled from time outdoors working in the woods and with cattle. He dresses comfortably and practically, with boots and pants that have long shown the wear of his work and shirts that are no strangers to dust and blood. He keeps his old wedding ring on a necklace around his neck to remind him of what he’s lost and to never loose sight of what might come his way again. West will only take off his guns when he sleeps and to visit his grandmother, either his revolvers are constantly at his hip or his rifle is in its holster. If there were anything that he might have to dress up for he might pull out the single outfit sitting in the bottom of his pack, but that would surely be a cold day in Hell. West has earned quite a few scars—a subtle line below his right eye where a man’s ring caught him; a scuff on the left side of his ribs from the hoof of a bull; a small round burn on the back of his left hand from a brand that slipped from a partner’s hand; and more than plenty from branches snagging his arms. Personality: West doesn’t have much to say so he doesn’t say much. He keeps to himself well enough, has done it for a while now and plans to keep doing so. While he’s not the sharpest blade in the chopping block, with a mind kept simple from his simple way of life, he knows well the things he does know and possesses a quiet cunning. In his trade he’s become pretty damn good, devoting himself to the time and patience it takes to work with wood and cattle. Never having been much of the talkative type, his silence has been enhanced by his work. The few words that come out of his mouth are carefully thought through, and he values his ability to think straight in times of panic. His actions tend to be just as soft as his soft-spoken nature, being a bit socially awkward and a true gentleman to women. He might take his guns off for no one but his grandmother, but he always removes his hat in the presence of a lady. Becoming a widower at 23 put a fair dent in a lot of his social abilities and his willingness to be around people. West has some trust issues, giving people only enough to do the job, get paid, and get out of town. There are very few people in Shalador who he calls friends, which he supposes he should work on but he is still too bitter to forgive and forget. But to those few people he is extremely loyal and is willing to go a long way to help them out. He is a fantastic storyteller and, while he doesn’t show it often, West has a very good sense of humor and loves to laugh and tell jokes—but it’s a few drinks into things before he lets go of his tight demeanor. West has a strong value for human life, and whether it be landen or Blood doesn’t matter. He has a fast hand that can lay a man dead but he hesitates, which can be seen as a problem. There is no problem, however, throwing his fists around and he can get quite nasty if need to. Likes: * His bedroll after a long day * His guns * His mare, Letta * Tobacco * Hunting and fishing * Cooking * Hot food and good drink * Good jokes * People using common sense (or acting like they at least have a brain) Dislikes: * Getting stuck drag on cattle drives (but not as much as he dislikes working as wrangler) * Horses other than Letta (he really hates getting dumped on his backside) * Disrespect towards a woman * Generally stupid people * Lightning storms * Dead cattle in the morning (or any time, really, unless it’s on his plate) * Bad jokes * Expired milk * Sissy coffee (he wants it black and strong enough to curl a man’s teeth) History James “West” Whilhelmy was born to Leroy Wilhelmy and his wife Jenna Dunn-Wilhelmy, just five short months after Jenna’s brother William was blessed with his first daughter. Named after his deceased grandfather, he was truly his father’s son and therefore his grandmother’s boy. The family lavished and loved their firstborn like most proud parents do, but shortly after James turned two his mother drowned when her horse panicked and broke its leg in a flooded crossing. The tragedy hit the family hard; Georgiana, James’s grandmother, moved in with him and his father to take care of the house and child while Leroy went off to work. The boy grew quickly, ornery and quiet like his father, and was soon old enough to help his father in the woods. A lumberjack by trade, Leroy brought his seven-year old son to the woods to help fetch and tote meals and tools while the men felled trees. Over the next ten years he picked up the trade from his father and his companions. His grandmother served as his homeschooler, taught him mathematics and the basics of reading and writing. He picked up on things quickly but was soon consumed with helping his father in the woods and trying to maintain their small home. Leroy not only passed his son his profession but also taught him to be an excellent marksman and James was soon bringing in the family’s dinners when his father was away and busy with work. Georgiana taught him to cook enough to sustain himself but James liked it enough that he kept learning and by the time he was old enough to join his father in the woods as a true woodsman he was also a well enough cook to please Gram’ma Georgiana. At seventeen he began working as a lumberjack with the company his father worked for. He wasn’t quite big enough or strong enough to man the saws so he was in charge of the draft horses that pulled the logs down to the river. It was hard work but James quickly adjusted to the demanding physical labor. His body was growing, expanding every day as he reached maturity and after two years coasted by was put on the end of one of the saws. The relentless back and forth pull didn’t affect his young body like it did the older men of the company and he stayed in the position with another young man who’d moved in from another part of Yelayawiig Province. The business garnered him a fair reputation—the logger’s life was a rough one that not just any chap could man up to. Now old enough to get rowdy, James lived up to his old man’s reputation before him. Leroy had been known as a quiet man with a stiff fist, and James’ left-handed power earned him the nickname “West.” He liked it, so he picked up on the name. West got himself into quite a bit of trouble when he went into town—and one instance proved its worth. Just short of twenty, West stepped up to a fight to defend a young woman who had turned down another customer’s advances in a saloon, and though he won the fight he ended up with something wicked of a beating. Grateful, the young woman took him, bloody-nosed and beat all to Hell, to her grandmother, who was a Blood Healer in the village. The old woman, Lady Gentry, had once been married to a successful landen cattleman and though it had been a controversial ordeal, the White Jeweled Healer had born two children who each had children of their own. Alexi, the young woman West had helped, cleaned him up after the healing and took him home. He got a scolding from Gram’ma Georgianna and a terrifying speech from his father, but neither of them could deny the honor in what he’d done. To everyone’s surprise Alexi returned to their country cabin the next morning to treat his scuffs and to check his leg. Having come well before breakfast and before West and his father went to work, the Wilhelmy family invited her to stay for the morning meal. She continued to do so for the remainder of the week, checking up on her bruised hero. It seemed that Alexi had taken some interest in West and his father smiled knowingly each morning when the little Shaladorian arrived on their doorstep each morning. Not very many lumberjacks found wives—their work was time consuming and dangerous, and most of them lived deeper in the woods, rarely visiting town. He himself had been lucky enough to have married and known that love, so he was encouraging to his son to pursue what didn’t come along to just anyone. West took heed of his father’s advice and courted Alexi diligently for a year before the two were married. Life went on blissfully— West built a home with his father for him and Alexi near Leroy and Gram’ma Georgiana’s home and the newly married couple settled down into the pattern of their lives. Alexi still worked in town helping her grandmother, and even though she was not Blood enough to have craft she was an expert in healing herbs and medicine. West continued to work hard in the woods with the lumber company and his father and he and his wife started to save and plan for children in the next few years. Life, however, seems to have its own idea of how things should go and fate turned its silent hand in their direction. While helping Lady Gentry, Alexi caught a nasty fever from one of the patients and fell ill. It advanced quickly and after fighting the fever for three days she quietly passed away. West was heartbroken. Having been too young to remember the feeling of losing his mother and never having seen his own father grieve, West didn’t know what to do with himself and his emotions. There had been no murderer, nobody who had done him injustice to blame it on. His heartache couldn’t be avenged in vigilante justice or with murderous revenge. Receding into himself he followed life as numbly as he had stood by her grave at the services. He lost joy in speaking, his work lost its excitement, and his home became a constant reminder of the color that had left his once perfect life. Struggling with the state of his life, the 23 year old widower finally couldn’t stay anymore. West packed up his things, put on the guns his father had given him years ago, and set out on his trust mare Letta, leaving the Yelayawiig Province behind and heading south in search of something new. His father let him go, understanding the pain his son was feeling and grieving that such a fate befell him so young and before his time. He traveled for about a year, taking odd jobs enough to support himself in food as he traveled as he journeyed through Shalador. Traveling through the mountains and crossing the river West finally came into the Sayaia Province. He could have easily found himself a job working for one of the few lumberyards in the mountains, but opted instead to start up a new career on a cattle operation. It took a while to adjust to new work, but the Boss could see his strength and determination and was patient to see what would come of his little find. West proved to have been worth the wait—not only was he willing to do whatever rough work the man had for him, but he didn’t give him much trouble and he’d never seen a sharper shooter on the rifle. West could drop the large mountain cats and coyotes with ease when they were still small dots on the distant hillsides. The men on the farm had little competitions with the up-and-coming popularity of fast-drawing gunmen and West was a natural, smoking targets at lightning fast speeds after some practice. Once known for his hard-hitting left arm, West’s nickname had taken a new meaning, now known for his uncanny marksmanship with his left hand. Springtime soon arrived along with a new opportunity—the cattle drives across Sayaia. West had never been on a cattle drive before but he quickly got the hang of droving. His sharp eye came in handy protecting the cattle and his quiet company made him a fair companion to the men on the rides. They warmed up on him over time, though, and he shared the stories he’d once heard in the woods to them around the campfire while they rested between their nightshifts. He moved up in the ranks of the drives as the years crept by—from working drag, stuck in the back to keep the herd moving and eating dust, to swing and outrider. He didn’t mind the work; it was dirty and rough, but it was much easier after years in the woods. The wide open spaces were refreshing and calming, allowing him to think clearer and gently set aside the woes of his past. He did mind, however, getting the position of wrangler but he wrinkled his nose and suffered through it—he had never really like a horse other than his own bay roan mare, and figured once she died he’d be on foot the rest of his life. Four years crawled by on the trail, a constant cycle of herding, branding, droving, and waiting out the rest year with ranch work. He itched for springtime so he could leave the ranches and hit the range, sing to the cattle on Night Hawk, and feel the cool wind in his face. As the time has passed he has stayed shut up, but has come to realize that living like a ghost made him as good as dead so he has begun to open up a bit. He’ll still knock a man in the teeth for mouthing a woman and his guns have become a permanent attachment from the first moment his boots hit the floor, but he’s starting to at least give people the chance to get a response back from their “hellos.” Family: * Georgiana Wilhelmy, grandmother - NPC * Leroy Wilhelmy, father – NPC * Willow Dunn, cousin – mine ;D * Alexi Gentry-Wilhelmy, wife - deceased * Jenna Dunn-Wilhelmy, mother - deceased RP Sample: On Faine’s. Player Info OOC Name: Kylee Past Characters: * Clarity Fairchild, Summer Sky - Opal Hearth Witch * Faine Scarta, Green - Gray Queen * Kaelian Vale, Tiger Eye - Purple Dusk Hearth Witch I have read the Rules!: Of course! Edited by West Wilhelmy, Feb 2 2011, 08:29 PM.
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5:56 PM Jul 10