Resator O'Caariel
04-07-11, 05:06 AM
Name: Sir Resator Caedmon O’Caariel
Alias: Reese
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Profession: Knight-Errant of House O’Caariel
General Appearance:
Young and clean-shaven, Resator’s appearance is both youthful and handsome, his pseudo-noble heritage having graced him with a masculine jaw line and high cheekbones. Auburn hair, unkempt but clean, hangs just above his shoulders; that same reddish fuss oftentimes obscuring the view of his amber eyes – another blessed trait passed down by his family. His height and stature are neither impressive nor laughable, his shoulders respectably broad and his build athletic. In fact, the only physical quality of Resator’s that does stand out would be his musculature: the young knight is lithe, honed and sharpened like a new knife. Still, unless one were to see the youth without shirt (an uncommon occurance), Resator would no doubt be one of the most unassuming characters a person could set eyes upon.
Apparel:
One would most likely find Sir Resator wearing the armor of a Knight-Errant of House O’Caariel: a white tunic with brown leather breeches, over which would be donned a well-polished breastplate adorned with a single pauldron covering the left shoulder. From that pauldron would hang a white half-cape, bearing the crest of House O’Caariel – two crimson swords crossed blades-down behind an elegant red shield. A simple gauntlet would cover either arm from knuckle to elbow with complimentary greaves guarding his legs. The ornate hilt of a bastard sword would hang at his hip, sheathed in a worn scabbard and attached to a hearty leather belt.
Personality:
Sir Resator – or Reese, as he is most often referred – is a passionate, emotional, and driven young knight who takes his duty and his word quite seriously. Part naïve, part unwavering faith in the spirit of justice and law, Reese holds to a set of values, morals, and ethics and does not move from them. As such, he tends to view the world in terms of black and white (which makes him difficult for some to deal with). Compassionate to a fault, trustworthy, loyal, and incredibly honest, there is no greater friend than this young knight. His steely resolve tends to be his greatest weapon when confronted with injustice.
Backstory:
“Sir Resator Caedmon O’Caariel, Third Son of Lord Arsent O’Caariel, Duke of Hammerfeld,” stated the door guard, each baritone syllable of the introduction echoing within the throne room. Not half a breath later did the man thus enter through the open double doors, his pace measured in urgent steps, each footfall followed by the sound of clattering steel.
“Father,” he started, rushing to the throne. One hand rested atop the hilt of his sword, steadying the long weapon; the other was extended towards the middle-aged man setting atop the stone dais. Concern and confusion intermingled, etched across his youthful countenance as he strode towards the throne. His amber eyes flicked about the room, the absence of the usual nobility and festivity making the gray stone chamber much more akin to a tomb than a seat of power.
“Father I am no more,” came the hushed reply, grief choking the duke’s royal voice, “My precious Liliana, my only daughter...”
Resator ascended the few steps to the top of the platform upon which his king – and his father-to-be – was seated, hunched over and on to his knees like a man stricken with plague. At its peak he stopped, pausing to mentally reexamine the man’s words. Then, in simple reflex the knight knelt before his lord, placing a palm upon his shoulder.
“Trystan,” he whispered, earnestly afraid to continue yet even more fearful of the unknown, “What has happened?”
Abruptly the king began to cry – the sort of weeping that causes the body to convulse, the throat to moan, the hands to claw at anything around, begging for something to steady the body in hopes that that would somehow steady the spirit. As such, Resator simply let his king embrace him, still confused and yet unwilling to pry his fiancée’s father for the source of his agony. It took some moments, but the king eventually began to take full breaths once more, the flow of his tears subsiding.
“My dear son,” the king said, his voice broken into a hoarse whisper from the prior strain, ”Liliana is dead.”
Resator was paralyzed. He could not speak. He was unable to move. The knight couldn’t even blink, could not think, was not capable of processing what his king had just told him. Just two days before had he felt her gentle hands upon his cheeks, the warmth of her lips upon his. Just two days ago had he spoken with her – she had laughed, he remembered. They both had. How could Liliana – his Liliana – be gone? They were to be married in a month’s time. It couldn’t be. It simply couldn’t.
“No,” broke the long-lasting silence. “No… she cannot be.”
Lord Trystan sat back, straightening as best he could so as to level his iron grey eyes upon his daughter’s love. Grasping either of the knight’s arms he pulled him upright, even in spite of his exhaustion.
“She was my daughter, Resator. I saw her with my own eyes. Someone stole into the castle, killed her guard, and –“
“No!” the youth exclaimed, immediately drawing up to his full height, effortlessly pulling out of the older man’s grip. “I will not believe that. I cannot believe in a world without her in it. I… I simply cannot.”
“My son,” came the patient king’s reply, his weariness adding even more gentleness to his words, “You cannot change what has been done.”
“I will,” stated Resator, steely resolve solidified around those words like spiritual mortar, “Or I will die trying.”
Equipment:
- Family Sword of House O’Caariel – A well-crafted steel bastard sword with a fuller running from this elegant crossguard to three-quarters up the blade. The hilt is wrapped in the highest quality of brown leather and the pommel is a simple swelling of the hilt into a pseudo-sphere. This blade hangs from an aged but well-made leather scabbard at Resator’s left hip.
- Knife – Nearly every warrior carries a secondary weapon, and Resator is not a standout. The simple, single-edged knife is roughly the length of a man’s forearm and made of steel. Its sheath is strapped via two small belts to the knight’s right thigh.
- Armor of the Knights-Errant – A steel true breastplate with a single pauldron, two steel fingerless gauntlets, and two steel greaves. A white half-cape with the O’Caariel Family Crest hangs from the pauldron.
Skills:
- Swordsmanship – All Knight-Errants of House O’Caariel are required to learn the art of swordplay, both making use of a shield and without one. Resator, however, went out of his way to spend hours training with a blade each and every day during his younger years. That, compounded with an inherent knack for technical swordsmanship, makes Resator a foe to be reckoned with when wielding a blade.
- Polearm Proficiency – While not an official weapon of the Knights-Errant, Resator has in recent years found the use of polearms (specifically partisans, glaives, and ranseurs) intriguing. That being said, he has gone out of his way to learn and master the basics of polearm combat. While his skill with said weapons are nowhere near his ability with a sword, it is still something to be noted.
- Education – Resator grew up in a privileged setting. As such, he was always afforded a personal tutor, instructing him in the principle disciplines of philosophy, literature, language, mathematics, rhetoric, and logic.
Abilities:
- Force of Will – Resator’s raw determination and resolve affords him a minor level of protection from mental, emotional, and spiritual duress. Effects that would typically hinder another man’s ability to think and process information (such as pain or illness) afflict him less. While this may prove to be a great ally, this level of ambition oftentimes leads to a degree callusing, disallowing him from being able to sense certain important stimuli.
Alias: Reese
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Profession: Knight-Errant of House O’Caariel
General Appearance:
Young and clean-shaven, Resator’s appearance is both youthful and handsome, his pseudo-noble heritage having graced him with a masculine jaw line and high cheekbones. Auburn hair, unkempt but clean, hangs just above his shoulders; that same reddish fuss oftentimes obscuring the view of his amber eyes – another blessed trait passed down by his family. His height and stature are neither impressive nor laughable, his shoulders respectably broad and his build athletic. In fact, the only physical quality of Resator’s that does stand out would be his musculature: the young knight is lithe, honed and sharpened like a new knife. Still, unless one were to see the youth without shirt (an uncommon occurance), Resator would no doubt be one of the most unassuming characters a person could set eyes upon.
Apparel:
One would most likely find Sir Resator wearing the armor of a Knight-Errant of House O’Caariel: a white tunic with brown leather breeches, over which would be donned a well-polished breastplate adorned with a single pauldron covering the left shoulder. From that pauldron would hang a white half-cape, bearing the crest of House O’Caariel – two crimson swords crossed blades-down behind an elegant red shield. A simple gauntlet would cover either arm from knuckle to elbow with complimentary greaves guarding his legs. The ornate hilt of a bastard sword would hang at his hip, sheathed in a worn scabbard and attached to a hearty leather belt.
Personality:
Sir Resator – or Reese, as he is most often referred – is a passionate, emotional, and driven young knight who takes his duty and his word quite seriously. Part naïve, part unwavering faith in the spirit of justice and law, Reese holds to a set of values, morals, and ethics and does not move from them. As such, he tends to view the world in terms of black and white (which makes him difficult for some to deal with). Compassionate to a fault, trustworthy, loyal, and incredibly honest, there is no greater friend than this young knight. His steely resolve tends to be his greatest weapon when confronted with injustice.
Backstory:
“Sir Resator Caedmon O’Caariel, Third Son of Lord Arsent O’Caariel, Duke of Hammerfeld,” stated the door guard, each baritone syllable of the introduction echoing within the throne room. Not half a breath later did the man thus enter through the open double doors, his pace measured in urgent steps, each footfall followed by the sound of clattering steel.
“Father,” he started, rushing to the throne. One hand rested atop the hilt of his sword, steadying the long weapon; the other was extended towards the middle-aged man setting atop the stone dais. Concern and confusion intermingled, etched across his youthful countenance as he strode towards the throne. His amber eyes flicked about the room, the absence of the usual nobility and festivity making the gray stone chamber much more akin to a tomb than a seat of power.
“Father I am no more,” came the hushed reply, grief choking the duke’s royal voice, “My precious Liliana, my only daughter...”
Resator ascended the few steps to the top of the platform upon which his king – and his father-to-be – was seated, hunched over and on to his knees like a man stricken with plague. At its peak he stopped, pausing to mentally reexamine the man’s words. Then, in simple reflex the knight knelt before his lord, placing a palm upon his shoulder.
“Trystan,” he whispered, earnestly afraid to continue yet even more fearful of the unknown, “What has happened?”
Abruptly the king began to cry – the sort of weeping that causes the body to convulse, the throat to moan, the hands to claw at anything around, begging for something to steady the body in hopes that that would somehow steady the spirit. As such, Resator simply let his king embrace him, still confused and yet unwilling to pry his fiancée’s father for the source of his agony. It took some moments, but the king eventually began to take full breaths once more, the flow of his tears subsiding.
“My dear son,” the king said, his voice broken into a hoarse whisper from the prior strain, ”Liliana is dead.”
Resator was paralyzed. He could not speak. He was unable to move. The knight couldn’t even blink, could not think, was not capable of processing what his king had just told him. Just two days before had he felt her gentle hands upon his cheeks, the warmth of her lips upon his. Just two days ago had he spoken with her – she had laughed, he remembered. They both had. How could Liliana – his Liliana – be gone? They were to be married in a month’s time. It couldn’t be. It simply couldn’t.
“No,” broke the long-lasting silence. “No… she cannot be.”
Lord Trystan sat back, straightening as best he could so as to level his iron grey eyes upon his daughter’s love. Grasping either of the knight’s arms he pulled him upright, even in spite of his exhaustion.
“She was my daughter, Resator. I saw her with my own eyes. Someone stole into the castle, killed her guard, and –“
“No!” the youth exclaimed, immediately drawing up to his full height, effortlessly pulling out of the older man’s grip. “I will not believe that. I cannot believe in a world without her in it. I… I simply cannot.”
“My son,” came the patient king’s reply, his weariness adding even more gentleness to his words, “You cannot change what has been done.”
“I will,” stated Resator, steely resolve solidified around those words like spiritual mortar, “Or I will die trying.”
Equipment:
- Family Sword of House O’Caariel – A well-crafted steel bastard sword with a fuller running from this elegant crossguard to three-quarters up the blade. The hilt is wrapped in the highest quality of brown leather and the pommel is a simple swelling of the hilt into a pseudo-sphere. This blade hangs from an aged but well-made leather scabbard at Resator’s left hip.
- Knife – Nearly every warrior carries a secondary weapon, and Resator is not a standout. The simple, single-edged knife is roughly the length of a man’s forearm and made of steel. Its sheath is strapped via two small belts to the knight’s right thigh.
- Armor of the Knights-Errant – A steel true breastplate with a single pauldron, two steel fingerless gauntlets, and two steel greaves. A white half-cape with the O’Caariel Family Crest hangs from the pauldron.
Skills:
- Swordsmanship – All Knight-Errants of House O’Caariel are required to learn the art of swordplay, both making use of a shield and without one. Resator, however, went out of his way to spend hours training with a blade each and every day during his younger years. That, compounded with an inherent knack for technical swordsmanship, makes Resator a foe to be reckoned with when wielding a blade.
- Polearm Proficiency – While not an official weapon of the Knights-Errant, Resator has in recent years found the use of polearms (specifically partisans, glaives, and ranseurs) intriguing. That being said, he has gone out of his way to learn and master the basics of polearm combat. While his skill with said weapons are nowhere near his ability with a sword, it is still something to be noted.
- Education – Resator grew up in a privileged setting. As such, he was always afforded a personal tutor, instructing him in the principle disciplines of philosophy, literature, language, mathematics, rhetoric, and logic.
Abilities:
- Force of Will – Resator’s raw determination and resolve affords him a minor level of protection from mental, emotional, and spiritual duress. Effects that would typically hinder another man’s ability to think and process information (such as pain or illness) afflict him less. While this may prove to be a great ally, this level of ambition oftentimes leads to a degree callusing, disallowing him from being able to sense certain important stimuli.