Post by Kadina on May 19, 2015 20:19:49 GMT -6
Name: Ivan Demir Axel
Age: 25
Occupation: Bounty Hunter
Weapon: Longsword and a modified mogma mit on his left hand
Ivan’s skills:
Horse Racing
Smithing
Trapping
Hunting
Positive traits:
Quick-witted
Vigilant
Charming
Protective
Negative traits:
Impatient
Stubborn
Arrogant
Apathetic
Likes:
Racing
Gambling
Apples
The Valley
Dislikes:
Monks
Reptiles
Thieves
The Ocean
Appearance:
Dark complexion, muscular build, dark brown hair, blue eyes with flecks of grey like his mothers, the blue he got from his dad. He is 6'0", 212 lbs. He has a scar of his family crest (a crane) on his chest near his left peck that he made from a hot metal branding rod. He has the goron brother tattoo on the back of his right hand, and many scars and burns from working in the mines and smithing. He wears the red and blue head scarves pictured above at all times and pulls the blue up over his face when racing.
__________________________________________________________
History:
Thunder clouds rolled across the sky over Hyrule as a rickety wagon splashed through the muck that puddled the soft wet earth. The monstrous hooves of a Clydesdale mare were caked in mud as it trampled towards refuge pulling the wagon behind it. It galloped as if racing the thunder that trailed softly from the distance and grew into a roar that crashed above them like a wave.
"Lon Lon Ranch" read the sign that creaked on its hinges swinging radically in the wind above the entrance to the farm. The driver, masked in a grey wooly beard, whipped at the mare's hindquarters. She quickened her pace and whinnied loudly to declare their presence. Two farm hands ran out in the pelting rain and drew open the barn doors. They squinted as the rain came down and drenched them from head to toe. The mare trampled past and came to a halt on her hind legs, neighing loudly and frightened by the storm.
A profound and gentle yet deep voice came from the driver as he cooed calmly to the mare. She bowed her head and shook the rain from her mane then wiped her dirty hooves on the hay that lay scattered on the floor of the barn.
The driver stepped down from his seat, his boots hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Though 55 years old, the man stood at 6'3" with the build of a man in his prime. His chest was bulky, his shoulders broad, and his arms were like canons. His skin was dark and leathery from years in the sun and his face was embellished with the wrinkles of old age and happiness. His pale blue shirt fit tightly, outlining the rolling curves of his muscles. His trousers were khaki in color and long overdue for a proper washing. His boots were worn down from years of travel and caked in mud.
The old man made his way to the front of the horse. He held its face in the palms of his rough massive hands and stroked it lightly. "Atta girl, Chesapeake. Nice 'n' easy..." His silver beard bounced below his chin as he spoke. His voice was deep, soft, and comforting with a southern draw.
Suddenly, there was a stir from within the wagon followed by the pitter-pat of dainty footsteps. The noise caught the attention of one of the farm hands who had held the barn door. Stricken with curiosity, he watched the cloth door of the wagon as he wiped the rain from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.
Pretty little fingers grabbed at the edge of the cloth door and pulled it back to reveal a beautiful young woman who was petit in size and graceful in demeanor. The farm hand nearly gasped as he stroked back a few damp strings of his dark hair from obstructing his view.
There she stood.
On one side, her chestnut hair was tucked femininely behind her ear and pulled around her neck to the other side where it fell carelessly, yet elegantly, off her shoulder and spilled over her bosom like fine silk. She wore a white dress of a cheap cotton material and a divinely knitted rose-colored shawl tied around her waist. Her short puffy sleeves hung off of her tiny shoulders, which were lightly dusted with the flirtiest of caramel colored freckles matching the barely visible patches below her fluttering hazel eyes. Oh those eyes. They were almond shaped and entrancing, with flecks of silvery grey.. like moonstone.
The farm hand felt his knees begin to shake and his face felt suddenly flushed. He wasn't sure if his palms were sweating from nervousness or just wet from the rain. A gaze like hers would make anyone weak. Just the sight of her crippled men in her wake.
She flashed a polite smile at him before looking down to dismount the wagon. Swiftly, he rushed to the wagon's edge and offered a hand to help her. "Oh," she said surprised that he had come so quickly. "Thank you."
Her voice… It was unlike any sound he had ever heard, different from every female he had known. It was a song, really. One he wanted to sing every day. The kind he wanted played as a soundtrack to his life. It was light and smooth with an unexplainable timbre. It haunted him and thrilled him at the same time. He couldn't have thought she would be more perfect until she had spoken.
He was already embarrassed by the moisture of his hand, though she hadn't yet grabbed it. As soon as she laid her soft delicate palm in his, he thought she could feel the racing of his heart pulsing through it. Her hair fell like a veil between them as she looked down to step off of the wagon. One step, two, touch down. She let go of his hand and subtly flipped her hair out of her face as she looked him in the eyes. Her gaze then trailed to his warm smile before looking away bashfully. Her smile melted his heart and burst it damn near into flames. She was something else.
Her name was Serenade, Sara for short. Her father was Claude, a merchant from the mountains who sold ore across all of Hyrule. He used to compare his daughter’s eyes to the mineral he mined. He believed there was something to be said about a person’s soul based on their eyes physical comparison to Earth’s jewels.
The farm hand was known as Rolph. Rolph and Sara had fallen madly in love, and though her beloved father struggled to part with his traveling companion, he still happily married her off to the stable boy only a couple of months later.
The three of them returned to their home in the valley of the mountains. Claude continued his mining in the spring seasons, and traveling during the summer and fall months. Rolph and Sara built their own cabin and a stable for which Rolph and a few neighboring friends wrangled wild horses for taming, breeding, and selling.
It wasn’t very soon after Sara and Rolph had been married that she gave birth to a son named Ivan.
One winter, when Claude was expected to return home for the coldest months of the year, he never did. It wasn’t but a year later during the winter solstice and the first snowfall of the season, when Ivan was only 8 years of age, that their village was ransacked by a troupe of thieves. Rolph was slain while trying to protect his family and Sara was able to hide Ivan before being taken and never seen again.
A Goron by the name of Ghadir was Claude's supplier of ore and a close family friend who visited frequently. Even after Claude’s death, he continued to bring Ivan gifts (usually rare minerals) from the mountain and help in any small way to support the family.
He was the one who came to Ivan’s rescue and raised him after he lost his parents.
Ivan grew up in the mines with Ghadir and other Goron brothers. He mined ore and learned how to smith.
Ivan was often spotted in the royal court delivering wanted men and women for a bounty. Bounty Hunting was his way of avenging his parents while making money to survive. The entire guard knew him by name and was continually impressed with, not only his smithing abilities, but also his swordsmanship and consistency with delivering wanted felons. The King was also impressed and soon became well acquainted with Ivan. He insisted that Ivan join Lux as the 16th member of what would have been Pheonix XVI, but preferred the freedom of being his own boss. However, Ivan found that he worked well with Lux and they became their own uncontracted co-op for various missions.
When Ivan isn’t bounty hunting, he enjoys racing horses. And he is damn good at it.
_________________________________________________________
Age: 25
Occupation: Bounty Hunter
Weapon: Longsword and a modified mogma mit on his left hand
Ivan’s skills:
Horse Racing
Smithing
Trapping
Hunting
Positive traits:
Quick-witted
Vigilant
Charming
Protective
Negative traits:
Impatient
Stubborn
Arrogant
Apathetic
Likes:
Racing
Gambling
Apples
The Valley
Dislikes:
Monks
Reptiles
Thieves
The Ocean
Appearance:
Dark complexion, muscular build, dark brown hair, blue eyes with flecks of grey like his mothers, the blue he got from his dad. He is 6'0", 212 lbs. He has a scar of his family crest (a crane) on his chest near his left peck that he made from a hot metal branding rod. He has the goron brother tattoo on the back of his right hand, and many scars and burns from working in the mines and smithing. He wears the red and blue head scarves pictured above at all times and pulls the blue up over his face when racing.
__________________________________________________________
History:
Thunder clouds rolled across the sky over Hyrule as a rickety wagon splashed through the muck that puddled the soft wet earth. The monstrous hooves of a Clydesdale mare were caked in mud as it trampled towards refuge pulling the wagon behind it. It galloped as if racing the thunder that trailed softly from the distance and grew into a roar that crashed above them like a wave.
"Lon Lon Ranch" read the sign that creaked on its hinges swinging radically in the wind above the entrance to the farm. The driver, masked in a grey wooly beard, whipped at the mare's hindquarters. She quickened her pace and whinnied loudly to declare their presence. Two farm hands ran out in the pelting rain and drew open the barn doors. They squinted as the rain came down and drenched them from head to toe. The mare trampled past and came to a halt on her hind legs, neighing loudly and frightened by the storm.
A profound and gentle yet deep voice came from the driver as he cooed calmly to the mare. She bowed her head and shook the rain from her mane then wiped her dirty hooves on the hay that lay scattered on the floor of the barn.
The driver stepped down from his seat, his boots hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Though 55 years old, the man stood at 6'3" with the build of a man in his prime. His chest was bulky, his shoulders broad, and his arms were like canons. His skin was dark and leathery from years in the sun and his face was embellished with the wrinkles of old age and happiness. His pale blue shirt fit tightly, outlining the rolling curves of his muscles. His trousers were khaki in color and long overdue for a proper washing. His boots were worn down from years of travel and caked in mud.
The old man made his way to the front of the horse. He held its face in the palms of his rough massive hands and stroked it lightly. "Atta girl, Chesapeake. Nice 'n' easy..." His silver beard bounced below his chin as he spoke. His voice was deep, soft, and comforting with a southern draw.
Suddenly, there was a stir from within the wagon followed by the pitter-pat of dainty footsteps. The noise caught the attention of one of the farm hands who had held the barn door. Stricken with curiosity, he watched the cloth door of the wagon as he wiped the rain from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.
Pretty little fingers grabbed at the edge of the cloth door and pulled it back to reveal a beautiful young woman who was petit in size and graceful in demeanor. The farm hand nearly gasped as he stroked back a few damp strings of his dark hair from obstructing his view.
There she stood.
On one side, her chestnut hair was tucked femininely behind her ear and pulled around her neck to the other side where it fell carelessly, yet elegantly, off her shoulder and spilled over her bosom like fine silk. She wore a white dress of a cheap cotton material and a divinely knitted rose-colored shawl tied around her waist. Her short puffy sleeves hung off of her tiny shoulders, which were lightly dusted with the flirtiest of caramel colored freckles matching the barely visible patches below her fluttering hazel eyes. Oh those eyes. They were almond shaped and entrancing, with flecks of silvery grey.. like moonstone.
The farm hand felt his knees begin to shake and his face felt suddenly flushed. He wasn't sure if his palms were sweating from nervousness or just wet from the rain. A gaze like hers would make anyone weak. Just the sight of her crippled men in her wake.
She flashed a polite smile at him before looking down to dismount the wagon. Swiftly, he rushed to the wagon's edge and offered a hand to help her. "Oh," she said surprised that he had come so quickly. "Thank you."
Her voice… It was unlike any sound he had ever heard, different from every female he had known. It was a song, really. One he wanted to sing every day. The kind he wanted played as a soundtrack to his life. It was light and smooth with an unexplainable timbre. It haunted him and thrilled him at the same time. He couldn't have thought she would be more perfect until she had spoken.
He was already embarrassed by the moisture of his hand, though she hadn't yet grabbed it. As soon as she laid her soft delicate palm in his, he thought she could feel the racing of his heart pulsing through it. Her hair fell like a veil between them as she looked down to step off of the wagon. One step, two, touch down. She let go of his hand and subtly flipped her hair out of her face as she looked him in the eyes. Her gaze then trailed to his warm smile before looking away bashfully. Her smile melted his heart and burst it damn near into flames. She was something else.
Her name was Serenade, Sara for short. Her father was Claude, a merchant from the mountains who sold ore across all of Hyrule. He used to compare his daughter’s eyes to the mineral he mined. He believed there was something to be said about a person’s soul based on their eyes physical comparison to Earth’s jewels.
The farm hand was known as Rolph. Rolph and Sara had fallen madly in love, and though her beloved father struggled to part with his traveling companion, he still happily married her off to the stable boy only a couple of months later.
The three of them returned to their home in the valley of the mountains. Claude continued his mining in the spring seasons, and traveling during the summer and fall months. Rolph and Sara built their own cabin and a stable for which Rolph and a few neighboring friends wrangled wild horses for taming, breeding, and selling.
It wasn’t very soon after Sara and Rolph had been married that she gave birth to a son named Ivan.
One winter, when Claude was expected to return home for the coldest months of the year, he never did. It wasn’t but a year later during the winter solstice and the first snowfall of the season, when Ivan was only 8 years of age, that their village was ransacked by a troupe of thieves. Rolph was slain while trying to protect his family and Sara was able to hide Ivan before being taken and never seen again.
A Goron by the name of Ghadir was Claude's supplier of ore and a close family friend who visited frequently. Even after Claude’s death, he continued to bring Ivan gifts (usually rare minerals) from the mountain and help in any small way to support the family.
He was the one who came to Ivan’s rescue and raised him after he lost his parents.
Ivan grew up in the mines with Ghadir and other Goron brothers. He mined ore and learned how to smith.
Ivan was often spotted in the royal court delivering wanted men and women for a bounty. Bounty Hunting was his way of avenging his parents while making money to survive. The entire guard knew him by name and was continually impressed with, not only his smithing abilities, but also his swordsmanship and consistency with delivering wanted felons. The King was also impressed and soon became well acquainted with Ivan. He insisted that Ivan join Lux as the 16th member of what would have been Pheonix XVI, but preferred the freedom of being his own boss. However, Ivan found that he worked well with Lux and they became their own uncontracted co-op for various missions.
When Ivan isn’t bounty hunting, he enjoys racing horses. And he is damn good at it.
_________________________________________________________