Skylar
06-03-07, 11:40 PM
((Seeing as I threw together this character in the span of an hour or so, brainstorming and all, I left out some important things. This is just so I can make sure those who are roleplaying with me have a better idea of what Skylar looks like and how he is. All changes are bolded and italicized for your convenience.))
Name: Skylar Silverlake
Sex: Male
Age: 22
Race: Human
Hair Color: Silver
Eyes: Light Blue
Height: 6' 0"
Weight: 200 lbs
Occupation: Priest-in-Training
Appearance:
If only one person could be the poster child for Salvarian looks, Skylar would be in the encyclopedia. He has pale, cold-crafted skin, but more often than not wears a warm smile. His eyes reflect the color of the sky, a light blue His thick silver hair cascades down to his shoulders when loose, but Skylar makes it a rule to keep it bound in a ponytail. A tabard approximately the color of his eyes drapes over his torso which boldly bears the symbol of the Hidden One, a pair of black eyes watching intently. A long-sleeved white tunic is worn below the breastplate and the tabard, and a pair of navy blue trousers covers his lower section. A mace lays at his hip, always ready to be pulled out. On his back, He keeps his shield, spiked flail, and a backpack, in its respective order.
Personality:
Skylar is a young man in all respects: age and experience. He is very open to new experiences, although slow to understand things strange in nature. He may even seem prejudiced towards new things and ideas, but it is simple ignorance and nothing more. He is firmly religious, seeing every beauty as made from the monotheistic god he worships, the Hidden One. He is always willing to extend a helping hand, gladly putting his life in danger should it save another. Skylar does not like conflict, prefering to discuss problems or avoid battle, but a righteous fury will erupt from him if friends and family are put into danger by those with bad intentions, sending even the most atheistic enemies on their knees, praying for forgiveness.
~ At the Silverlake Estate, Southern Salvar
"Where is he?"
The hallway door bursts open, clapping against the walls they were attached to with sudden force to reveal a fuming nobleman stomping full speed into the room. His age makes him look well over the hill, but the ferocity of his gait would make one think otherwise. Neatly-trimmed silver gray hair rests thickly on his head and his nobleman attire mached the same color as his eyes, a faint sky blue. His color flaps as he walks straight over to room's bed.
"I said, where is he?!"
The nobleman's hands grasp onto a figure buried underneath the velvet black sheets, and he violently rouses the figure. With a snort, a head battles through the sheets before he reaches the air, startled.
"Huh? Father?"
The pale young man meets the angry man's gaze, rubbing his eyes before going into a sudden fit of coughing. He turns his head away and throws his hand to his mouth, as if trying to shove back in the coughs for the shame. The father isn't phased much by this.
"Simon, this isn't the time for your damn health problems. Your brother, where is he?"
A half a minute passes before Simon is able to get a word through his horrible hacking. He looks up at his father, his eyes shifty and his voice unsure.
"Why would you *cough* think I know anything, Father? I've been laying in bed this entire day....*cough*"
"Because," The nobleman turns away, looking out the window as if searching for something running in the yard three stories downward, "I know that Skylar wouldn't dare leave this house without leaving you some kind of word. I know how close you two are, don't think I'm oblivious because of my duties."
Simon enters into another fit, conveniently because he had most certainly gotten called out and was soon going to have to tell his father about his brother. At least his illness would be able to buy Skylar another minute or so, and he was grateful for that. He loved his brother very much, and Skylar loved him too. Every day, Skylar would enter his room, a large ornate book in hand, and plop himself down with a smile and a laugh. Simon's eyes went to the book that was on the desk next to the bed. The Empyrean Gospel. Skylar always read the same book, but always a different tale. There were so many in that book, always about bravery and unparalleled faith that always got the now-ordained saints through their troubles with evil men who sought to persecute them. There were also stories of miracles, like raising people from the dead or curing the living's ailments. Those were the stories Simon liked the most. Sure, they were a bit naive, and all of them were pretty far-fetched stories (though the Church says they are true circumstances), but when Skylar read them aloud, it would always put him into a happy fevor. When he'd finish, he would tell Simon his dreams of someday going to St. Denebriel's Cathedral and would give his own sermon there. Simon would smile warmly at Skylar and assure him that he'd be able to do it one day. How he loved his brother.
"Simon! You hear me? I'll throw you out that window myself if you don't tell me what happened to Skylar. Come on!"
Lord Silverlake's eyes look at what Simon's was looking at, the Empyrean Gospel catching his eye. The nobleman's eyes opened wide, and then he turned back to Simon, who had just stopped coughing again. "I should have increased the guard. Now your crazy brother's run off and it's only a week before he takes my seat as Lord!"
Suddenly, Lord Silverlake's eyes drift to a piece of paper hanging out of the Gospel that seemed to beckon him. He quickly thumbed through the Gospel and got it out, taking note of the clean handwriting that could only be his son's.
Dear Father,
By now, you must know that I am no where to be found. I will tell you that I will be going to Knife's Edge, and I have no intention of coming back. I will not allow myself to be pulled into a life of sin, gluttony, and deceit. I will not be taking the throne, even if you demand me to, so I ran away. Here, in Knife's Edge, I will be able to do what I have always wanted to do: Further the Church of the Ethereal Sway as much as I can, and to serve the Hidden One with all my heart and soul. One day I hope you will be blessed with the eternal love and understanding that He sheds on me day and night, and the peace I have found in Him. If you do have a soul, please, take care of Simon. And tell him that I am sorry I will not be able to visit him. I think we both know why. Nevertheless, you will always be worthy of forgiveness, Father. May the Hidden One protect you with his vigilant Eyes.
With Love,
Skylar.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sound of a heavenly chorus echoes through the huge cathedral that was named after St. Denebriel, a smooth but somewhat unsettling mixture of sopranos, altos, basses, and tenors. An organ booms throughout the space, adding its share to the musical mixture. Suddenly the huge doors to the cathedral creak open relatively quickly, and a young man no older than 22 comes in, clothes ragged and hair knappy and beard overgrown. He stumbles his way past each pew and stained glass window, taking them all in with a kind of childlike amazement mixed what seemed like a hungry, over-worked body. As he makes his way to the front, he finds his legs failing him and collapses onto the ground with a thump. The deacon behind the podium at the very front walks quickly over to Skylar and his body, bringing over a bowl of some kind of water. With a quick movement, he splashes the water over Skylar's face, successfully waking up coughing a little bit from the work out this all was. As soon as Skylar gets to his face, the deacon looks at him, regarding him carefully.
"You seem to have some kind of business for coming here, child. Please, tell me."
Skylar rubs his eyes a little, and then gets down on his knees before the deacon. "All I have ever wanted was to be one of your priests and be used for the greater good of The Hidden One and mankind. I would do anything to prelong that cause."
The deacon rises with an seeming uncharacteristic twinkle in his eyes. With his hands he pulls Skylar back up to his knees and pats him on the shoulder. "Are you sure, my son? You are young, there are facets to life you have yet to see. It would not be wise to choose a path of piousness so early." The deacon then nods, and turns away to look at the choir who were still singing their perfect but robotic melody.
"Please! I feel the palpitations that the Hidden One puts in me. He has put me on earth for more than to rule some silly plantations in my father's name."
Suddenly the deacon's gaze shifts back to Skylar with cold, calculating eyes that were once warm and inviting. His voice turns raspy, and he puts his mouth right next to Skylar's ear, gripping his shoulder with surprising strength. "Will you be willing to do anything for He Whom Shrouds Are Adorned? Will you give your life in His service, if need be? Will you fight for His name, and if needed, kill those who threaten His Plan?"
Surprised by this sudden turn of character, Skylar stumbles back from the deacon, tripping over himself and stumbling again to the floor, his hunger and raggedness getting the best of him. As he picks his head back up, he sees a grand stained glass window on the back wall of the church, spanning up at least 20 feet, with the Hidden One's form and figure among the many sheets that He stays behind. His eyes, though His body is behind the veils, poke right through, His all-seeing Eyes piercing the wicked and praising the righteous. He was calling Skylar. Skylar would answer with his life-long servitude.
A new-found grace encompanies Skylar, as the love of He brings him to his feet. He turns back to the deacon, who was eagerly awaiting a response."Be it tears, blood, or life, the Hidden One shall have it. The Church of the Ethereal Sway may use me as you wish. I am His servant, for He comforts me and caresses the fear away."
A satisfied grin comes across the deacon's face. There will be use for this one, I know it in my bones.
"Come. Let us get you washed up, fed, and rested."
The deacon's hand goes around Skylar's shoulder, urging him down the aisle towards the back doors. The sounds of the choir began to die out as they walk into a dark inner hallway.
"For, in the service of The Hidden One? There is much to be done, my child. Much indeed."
Abilities
Martial Training - Growing up as a nobleman, it was necessary for Skylar to learn how to adorn heavy armor and to at least hold weapons and a shield in hand for presentational purposes. Skylar took some time to actually train, however, so he is slightly above average in proficiency in wielding flails and maces while wielding a shield in his off-hand.
Bless - Skylar's faith in The Hidden One is strong enough that he is able to evoke the art of water purifying and sanctifying. All he requires is water and salt. Once those elements are combined, by a mere touch Skylar can bless the water. When blessed water is splashed upon truly evil individuals, their skin burns and singes, and a splash in the eyes could leave the individual rolling in pain and temporarily blinded. However, against foes who are not necessarily evil at heart, the water is harmless, although the salt in the water could make a person blinded for a few seconds if used correctly. Skylar is limited to blessing water in such a manner up to a flask of water once per day.
Salvation - Skylar's will to one day cure the maladies of his brother has inspired in him a truly divine ability. By touching a person and praying fevorishly to the Hidden One, Skylar is able to concentrate his own holy energy into an injured person's body, healing their wounds in an extremely rapid manner. At this point in time, Skylar can only close wounds of a minor nature. It mostly serves to stop bleeding.
Equipment
A spike-balled steel flail with a wooden handle. It has a reach of about 5 feet. It can be wielded with one hand. Skylar straps it to his back when not in use. His preferred weapon.
A steel flanged mace that he leaves strapped to his left side.
A steel breastplate, covered by a light blue tabard which bears the symbol of the Hidden One on the chest. He also wears iron gauntlets that covers all the way to his upper forearms.
A steel shield bearing a crescent moon, his family's coat-of-arms. He straps it to his back below his backpack.
The Empyrean Gospel, a book he keeps in his backpack.
A flask of holy water he blessed himself. He keeps it strapped to his belt on his right hip.
Parchment, pen, and ink he uses to write sermons he hopes to one day use.
Name: Skylar Silverlake
Sex: Male
Age: 22
Race: Human
Hair Color: Silver
Eyes: Light Blue
Height: 6' 0"
Weight: 200 lbs
Occupation: Priest-in-Training
Appearance:
If only one person could be the poster child for Salvarian looks, Skylar would be in the encyclopedia. He has pale, cold-crafted skin, but more often than not wears a warm smile. His eyes reflect the color of the sky, a light blue His thick silver hair cascades down to his shoulders when loose, but Skylar makes it a rule to keep it bound in a ponytail. A tabard approximately the color of his eyes drapes over his torso which boldly bears the symbol of the Hidden One, a pair of black eyes watching intently. A long-sleeved white tunic is worn below the breastplate and the tabard, and a pair of navy blue trousers covers his lower section. A mace lays at his hip, always ready to be pulled out. On his back, He keeps his shield, spiked flail, and a backpack, in its respective order.
Personality:
Skylar is a young man in all respects: age and experience. He is very open to new experiences, although slow to understand things strange in nature. He may even seem prejudiced towards new things and ideas, but it is simple ignorance and nothing more. He is firmly religious, seeing every beauty as made from the monotheistic god he worships, the Hidden One. He is always willing to extend a helping hand, gladly putting his life in danger should it save another. Skylar does not like conflict, prefering to discuss problems or avoid battle, but a righteous fury will erupt from him if friends and family are put into danger by those with bad intentions, sending even the most atheistic enemies on their knees, praying for forgiveness.
~ At the Silverlake Estate, Southern Salvar
"Where is he?"
The hallway door bursts open, clapping against the walls they were attached to with sudden force to reveal a fuming nobleman stomping full speed into the room. His age makes him look well over the hill, but the ferocity of his gait would make one think otherwise. Neatly-trimmed silver gray hair rests thickly on his head and his nobleman attire mached the same color as his eyes, a faint sky blue. His color flaps as he walks straight over to room's bed.
"I said, where is he?!"
The nobleman's hands grasp onto a figure buried underneath the velvet black sheets, and he violently rouses the figure. With a snort, a head battles through the sheets before he reaches the air, startled.
"Huh? Father?"
The pale young man meets the angry man's gaze, rubbing his eyes before going into a sudden fit of coughing. He turns his head away and throws his hand to his mouth, as if trying to shove back in the coughs for the shame. The father isn't phased much by this.
"Simon, this isn't the time for your damn health problems. Your brother, where is he?"
A half a minute passes before Simon is able to get a word through his horrible hacking. He looks up at his father, his eyes shifty and his voice unsure.
"Why would you *cough* think I know anything, Father? I've been laying in bed this entire day....*cough*"
"Because," The nobleman turns away, looking out the window as if searching for something running in the yard three stories downward, "I know that Skylar wouldn't dare leave this house without leaving you some kind of word. I know how close you two are, don't think I'm oblivious because of my duties."
Simon enters into another fit, conveniently because he had most certainly gotten called out and was soon going to have to tell his father about his brother. At least his illness would be able to buy Skylar another minute or so, and he was grateful for that. He loved his brother very much, and Skylar loved him too. Every day, Skylar would enter his room, a large ornate book in hand, and plop himself down with a smile and a laugh. Simon's eyes went to the book that was on the desk next to the bed. The Empyrean Gospel. Skylar always read the same book, but always a different tale. There were so many in that book, always about bravery and unparalleled faith that always got the now-ordained saints through their troubles with evil men who sought to persecute them. There were also stories of miracles, like raising people from the dead or curing the living's ailments. Those were the stories Simon liked the most. Sure, they were a bit naive, and all of them were pretty far-fetched stories (though the Church says they are true circumstances), but when Skylar read them aloud, it would always put him into a happy fevor. When he'd finish, he would tell Simon his dreams of someday going to St. Denebriel's Cathedral and would give his own sermon there. Simon would smile warmly at Skylar and assure him that he'd be able to do it one day. How he loved his brother.
"Simon! You hear me? I'll throw you out that window myself if you don't tell me what happened to Skylar. Come on!"
Lord Silverlake's eyes look at what Simon's was looking at, the Empyrean Gospel catching his eye. The nobleman's eyes opened wide, and then he turned back to Simon, who had just stopped coughing again. "I should have increased the guard. Now your crazy brother's run off and it's only a week before he takes my seat as Lord!"
Suddenly, Lord Silverlake's eyes drift to a piece of paper hanging out of the Gospel that seemed to beckon him. He quickly thumbed through the Gospel and got it out, taking note of the clean handwriting that could only be his son's.
Dear Father,
By now, you must know that I am no where to be found. I will tell you that I will be going to Knife's Edge, and I have no intention of coming back. I will not allow myself to be pulled into a life of sin, gluttony, and deceit. I will not be taking the throne, even if you demand me to, so I ran away. Here, in Knife's Edge, I will be able to do what I have always wanted to do: Further the Church of the Ethereal Sway as much as I can, and to serve the Hidden One with all my heart and soul. One day I hope you will be blessed with the eternal love and understanding that He sheds on me day and night, and the peace I have found in Him. If you do have a soul, please, take care of Simon. And tell him that I am sorry I will not be able to visit him. I think we both know why. Nevertheless, you will always be worthy of forgiveness, Father. May the Hidden One protect you with his vigilant Eyes.
With Love,
Skylar.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sound of a heavenly chorus echoes through the huge cathedral that was named after St. Denebriel, a smooth but somewhat unsettling mixture of sopranos, altos, basses, and tenors. An organ booms throughout the space, adding its share to the musical mixture. Suddenly the huge doors to the cathedral creak open relatively quickly, and a young man no older than 22 comes in, clothes ragged and hair knappy and beard overgrown. He stumbles his way past each pew and stained glass window, taking them all in with a kind of childlike amazement mixed what seemed like a hungry, over-worked body. As he makes his way to the front, he finds his legs failing him and collapses onto the ground with a thump. The deacon behind the podium at the very front walks quickly over to Skylar and his body, bringing over a bowl of some kind of water. With a quick movement, he splashes the water over Skylar's face, successfully waking up coughing a little bit from the work out this all was. As soon as Skylar gets to his face, the deacon looks at him, regarding him carefully.
"You seem to have some kind of business for coming here, child. Please, tell me."
Skylar rubs his eyes a little, and then gets down on his knees before the deacon. "All I have ever wanted was to be one of your priests and be used for the greater good of The Hidden One and mankind. I would do anything to prelong that cause."
The deacon rises with an seeming uncharacteristic twinkle in his eyes. With his hands he pulls Skylar back up to his knees and pats him on the shoulder. "Are you sure, my son? You are young, there are facets to life you have yet to see. It would not be wise to choose a path of piousness so early." The deacon then nods, and turns away to look at the choir who were still singing their perfect but robotic melody.
"Please! I feel the palpitations that the Hidden One puts in me. He has put me on earth for more than to rule some silly plantations in my father's name."
Suddenly the deacon's gaze shifts back to Skylar with cold, calculating eyes that were once warm and inviting. His voice turns raspy, and he puts his mouth right next to Skylar's ear, gripping his shoulder with surprising strength. "Will you be willing to do anything for He Whom Shrouds Are Adorned? Will you give your life in His service, if need be? Will you fight for His name, and if needed, kill those who threaten His Plan?"
Surprised by this sudden turn of character, Skylar stumbles back from the deacon, tripping over himself and stumbling again to the floor, his hunger and raggedness getting the best of him. As he picks his head back up, he sees a grand stained glass window on the back wall of the church, spanning up at least 20 feet, with the Hidden One's form and figure among the many sheets that He stays behind. His eyes, though His body is behind the veils, poke right through, His all-seeing Eyes piercing the wicked and praising the righteous. He was calling Skylar. Skylar would answer with his life-long servitude.
A new-found grace encompanies Skylar, as the love of He brings him to his feet. He turns back to the deacon, who was eagerly awaiting a response."Be it tears, blood, or life, the Hidden One shall have it. The Church of the Ethereal Sway may use me as you wish. I am His servant, for He comforts me and caresses the fear away."
A satisfied grin comes across the deacon's face. There will be use for this one, I know it in my bones.
"Come. Let us get you washed up, fed, and rested."
The deacon's hand goes around Skylar's shoulder, urging him down the aisle towards the back doors. The sounds of the choir began to die out as they walk into a dark inner hallway.
"For, in the service of The Hidden One? There is much to be done, my child. Much indeed."
Abilities
Martial Training - Growing up as a nobleman, it was necessary for Skylar to learn how to adorn heavy armor and to at least hold weapons and a shield in hand for presentational purposes. Skylar took some time to actually train, however, so he is slightly above average in proficiency in wielding flails and maces while wielding a shield in his off-hand.
Bless - Skylar's faith in The Hidden One is strong enough that he is able to evoke the art of water purifying and sanctifying. All he requires is water and salt. Once those elements are combined, by a mere touch Skylar can bless the water. When blessed water is splashed upon truly evil individuals, their skin burns and singes, and a splash in the eyes could leave the individual rolling in pain and temporarily blinded. However, against foes who are not necessarily evil at heart, the water is harmless, although the salt in the water could make a person blinded for a few seconds if used correctly. Skylar is limited to blessing water in such a manner up to a flask of water once per day.
Salvation - Skylar's will to one day cure the maladies of his brother has inspired in him a truly divine ability. By touching a person and praying fevorishly to the Hidden One, Skylar is able to concentrate his own holy energy into an injured person's body, healing their wounds in an extremely rapid manner. At this point in time, Skylar can only close wounds of a minor nature. It mostly serves to stop bleeding.
Equipment
A spike-balled steel flail with a wooden handle. It has a reach of about 5 feet. It can be wielded with one hand. Skylar straps it to his back when not in use. His preferred weapon.
A steel flanged mace that he leaves strapped to his left side.
A steel breastplate, covered by a light blue tabard which bears the symbol of the Hidden One on the chest. He also wears iron gauntlets that covers all the way to his upper forearms.
A steel shield bearing a crescent moon, his family's coat-of-arms. He straps it to his back below his backpack.
The Empyrean Gospel, a book he keeps in his backpack.
A flask of holy water he blessed himself. He keeps it strapped to his belt on his right hip.
Parchment, pen, and ink he uses to write sermons he hopes to one day use.