Azlen
12-18-08, 09:10 PM
http://i114.photobucket.com/albums/n244/MaxBlade_2006/Lordofclans.jpg
Name: Azlen Johannes
Age: 29
Race: Human
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Ruby
Height: 6’1
Weight: 210
Occupation: Clan Leader
Personality~
A Nurturer: He’s quiet, kind, and conscientious. Can be depended on to follow through. Usually puts the needs of others above his own needs. Stable and practical, he value security and traditions, he also has a well-developed sense of space and function. He has this rich inner world of observations about people, extremely perceptive of other's feelings. Interested in serving others. He is truly warm and kind-hearted, and wants to believe the best of people. Values harmony and cooperation, and is likely to be very sensitive to other people's feelings. People value Azlen for his consideration and awareness, and the ability to bring out the best in others by their firm desire to believe the best.
Appearance~
The term "captivating" comes to mind when you first see this tall Caucasian man. His build is notably muscular. He has neck-length, driftwood brown hair, styled in a way reminiscent of a gush of water. His narrow eyes are the exact color of valuable rubies. He has prominent cheekbones and small ears.
History~
The tent was silent. The remaining family members who had came to see the Chief for the last time respectfully wore black in the presence of their lost ruler. Azlen closed his father’s eyes. “Everybody is weak. Everybody fails. Being strong is fighting. It's hard and it's painful and it's every day. It's what we have to do.” He spoke these words to no one in particular, but the audience unanimously agreed. Signifying this by crossing their arms in front of their hearts. In another tent there was a wail of grief, attesting to the fact that the family was not the only people who were saddened.
Azlen suppressed tears as he turned towards the small group huddled inside the large tent. All the women wore mourning scarves, but he could tell immediately which one was his mother. Pulling her towards him, he took off the scarf covering her motherly face. He kissed her on both cheeks, and covered her again. “Please excuse me.” He muttered, loud enough for the command to be heard. The group parted sides, walking between them; he exited through the flap to the awaiting audience outside. It was time for him to except his birthright.
A sigh escaped the new Chieftain’s lips, but was swallowed by the autumn wind. He stood in the clearing of a forest of amber orange, through which a clear river runs. The leaves varying shades of oranges and browns, from a pale apricot to the depths of persimmon. As the sun rises over the forest, it seems for a moment as though the foliage is reflected in the sky, which momentarily assumes an amber tinge, the weathered tan tent of the chieftain, standing as a reminder of what used to be.
There were at least 125 people gathered waiting for the announcement that would give them a new chief, children sat in trees talking and playing oblivious to how their lives might change in the midst of a few seconds. The adults on the other hand were very aware and very serious. No of them were excited at the prospect of having a “child” for a leader, but you couldn’t change fate.
As soon as you get a grip on life, fate comes and jumps on your fingers. His posture had changed, his demeanor had changed, with death came much change. Some people just weren’t ready for change.
“There's moments in your life that make you, set the course of who you're going to be. Sometimes they're little, subtle moments. Sometimes ... they're not. Even if you see them coming, you're never ready for the big moments. So what are we, helpless? Puppets? No. Nobody asks for his or her life to change, not really. But it does. The big moments will come, can't help that. It's what you do afterwards that counts. That's when you find out who you are ... who you will be.”
Azlen did not say this without having thought hard about it. He had been thinking about for the last 10 years. The day when he had became a man. He had practiced it, and now it just flowed out of his mouth like water. Azlen had never been much of a talker, but today everything was on his mind, pounding to be let out, and if it came out, it would be a torrent of emotions that followed dutifully behind.
He had trained his whole life. Training to be a great warrior, training to be a leader, training to be a light in the time of need, training to learn how not show emotions in times distress. He never had many friends; his father always told him he didn’t have time for them. He excelled because of this factor, he was the best in classes, the best in sports, and of course he had supreme training in the area of fighting.
The audience still looked at him, some nodding in agreement. “I have decided what I will do after the big moment. I will be going away for some time…” He paused, waiting for the reaction. Nothing. “I’m going to become more of a man for my people. When two years have gone past, I will return…I will be ready then for the troubles that our people might face.” Nothing. He bit his lip in nervousness, a feeling he was not accustomed to. “Please excuse me.” He muttered, loud enough for the command to be heard. He pushed his way through the group, seeing the different faces of people that were now under his charge. They were faces of hate, grim determination, hopefulness, not all of these looks were because of him.
Not the end...
Skills:
Basic Sword Fighting-Sword, knives, pikes, clubs~
Above Average Archery and Hand-to-Hand~
Above Average Medicine making~
Equipment: Two steel daggers a conch and a steel Broadsword.
Name: Azlen Johannes
Age: 29
Race: Human
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Ruby
Height: 6’1
Weight: 210
Occupation: Clan Leader
Personality~
A Nurturer: He’s quiet, kind, and conscientious. Can be depended on to follow through. Usually puts the needs of others above his own needs. Stable and practical, he value security and traditions, he also has a well-developed sense of space and function. He has this rich inner world of observations about people, extremely perceptive of other's feelings. Interested in serving others. He is truly warm and kind-hearted, and wants to believe the best of people. Values harmony and cooperation, and is likely to be very sensitive to other people's feelings. People value Azlen for his consideration and awareness, and the ability to bring out the best in others by their firm desire to believe the best.
Appearance~
The term "captivating" comes to mind when you first see this tall Caucasian man. His build is notably muscular. He has neck-length, driftwood brown hair, styled in a way reminiscent of a gush of water. His narrow eyes are the exact color of valuable rubies. He has prominent cheekbones and small ears.
History~
The tent was silent. The remaining family members who had came to see the Chief for the last time respectfully wore black in the presence of their lost ruler. Azlen closed his father’s eyes. “Everybody is weak. Everybody fails. Being strong is fighting. It's hard and it's painful and it's every day. It's what we have to do.” He spoke these words to no one in particular, but the audience unanimously agreed. Signifying this by crossing their arms in front of their hearts. In another tent there was a wail of grief, attesting to the fact that the family was not the only people who were saddened.
Azlen suppressed tears as he turned towards the small group huddled inside the large tent. All the women wore mourning scarves, but he could tell immediately which one was his mother. Pulling her towards him, he took off the scarf covering her motherly face. He kissed her on both cheeks, and covered her again. “Please excuse me.” He muttered, loud enough for the command to be heard. The group parted sides, walking between them; he exited through the flap to the awaiting audience outside. It was time for him to except his birthright.
A sigh escaped the new Chieftain’s lips, but was swallowed by the autumn wind. He stood in the clearing of a forest of amber orange, through which a clear river runs. The leaves varying shades of oranges and browns, from a pale apricot to the depths of persimmon. As the sun rises over the forest, it seems for a moment as though the foliage is reflected in the sky, which momentarily assumes an amber tinge, the weathered tan tent of the chieftain, standing as a reminder of what used to be.
There were at least 125 people gathered waiting for the announcement that would give them a new chief, children sat in trees talking and playing oblivious to how their lives might change in the midst of a few seconds. The adults on the other hand were very aware and very serious. No of them were excited at the prospect of having a “child” for a leader, but you couldn’t change fate.
As soon as you get a grip on life, fate comes and jumps on your fingers. His posture had changed, his demeanor had changed, with death came much change. Some people just weren’t ready for change.
“There's moments in your life that make you, set the course of who you're going to be. Sometimes they're little, subtle moments. Sometimes ... they're not. Even if you see them coming, you're never ready for the big moments. So what are we, helpless? Puppets? No. Nobody asks for his or her life to change, not really. But it does. The big moments will come, can't help that. It's what you do afterwards that counts. That's when you find out who you are ... who you will be.”
Azlen did not say this without having thought hard about it. He had been thinking about for the last 10 years. The day when he had became a man. He had practiced it, and now it just flowed out of his mouth like water. Azlen had never been much of a talker, but today everything was on his mind, pounding to be let out, and if it came out, it would be a torrent of emotions that followed dutifully behind.
He had trained his whole life. Training to be a great warrior, training to be a leader, training to be a light in the time of need, training to learn how not show emotions in times distress. He never had many friends; his father always told him he didn’t have time for them. He excelled because of this factor, he was the best in classes, the best in sports, and of course he had supreme training in the area of fighting.
The audience still looked at him, some nodding in agreement. “I have decided what I will do after the big moment. I will be going away for some time…” He paused, waiting for the reaction. Nothing. “I’m going to become more of a man for my people. When two years have gone past, I will return…I will be ready then for the troubles that our people might face.” Nothing. He bit his lip in nervousness, a feeling he was not accustomed to. “Please excuse me.” He muttered, loud enough for the command to be heard. He pushed his way through the group, seeing the different faces of people that were now under his charge. They were faces of hate, grim determination, hopefulness, not all of these looks were because of him.
Not the end...
Skills:
Basic Sword Fighting-Sword, knives, pikes, clubs~
Above Average Archery and Hand-to-Hand~
Above Average Medicine making~
Equipment: Two steel daggers a conch and a steel Broadsword.