Marint

Physical Appearance –––

Hair: White - Medium Length Facial Hair: Goatee, Sideburns Eyes: Sky Blue Height: 7'2" Build: Thin / Lanky Distinguishing Marks: Missing right eye, this is often covered Scars: Marint has multiple softer scars on his face, neck, and upper torso. He has a more severe and noticeable scar crossing his right eye. Tattoos: Shimmering arcane tattoos decorate his body from head to toe, though they are largely difficult to take notice of, and appear to be largely inactive. Piercings: Multiple in each ear, two in his left eyebrow, one lip ring on the bottom. Common Accessories: Marint carries a rather thin and nondescript leather-bound tome along with an enchanted quill that he uses to make various notes. Less frequently, he possesses a bow, though there is not much about his appearance that implies he uses it often. Likeness: Gideon Emery

Personal Information –––

Profession: Marint is little more than an information broker. He provides this information to sellswords, other informants, merchants, black market associates, and others with the means to pay him for his services, though he is largely devoted to the matriarch of House Rundonthos, Vueze. Hobbies: His favourite way to pass time is to sculpt and whittle. He enjoys visiting museums, studying various forms of architecture, and practising his archery, which seems to be for enjoyment rather than any practical use. Languages: Orcish, Shalassian, Thalassian, Common, Darnassian Currently Living: A rather out-of-the-way neglected home in Val'sharah, he spends a fair amount of his time in the estate of House Rundonthos in Suramar's city. Birthplace: A now defunct estate in the outskirts of Zin-Azshari Religion: N/A Fears: Ducks, geese, and cranes. And swans. Most feathered creatures.

Personality/Description:

Marint is a very easy-going man and rather unsuspecting to the objective eye and first impression. He does not present an intimidating figure, despite his tall height, and there is nothing about his appearance that implies he is particularly of a combative nature. At least not physically.

His greatest strength lies in his mind. Marint is an excellent conversationalist, enjoys speaking with people, spending time with people, and has a relatively easy time forming acquaintances. Real friendships, however, may be more of a challenge, considering he has access and ways of acquiring information that he feels could easily make him a target. In spite of his friendly personality, he can never really know when someone wants to know him and when they would rather know his information. As a result, Marint struggles to develop trusting connections with others.

He has a fine appreciation for lucrative business, art, architecture, and other academic pursuits, though he is most passionate about the time he spends sculpting figures, fountains, and other objects from stone. His tastes may seem as though they veer towards the more macabre, such as cemeteries and mausoleums, but in truth, he simply has an appreciation for the pieces left behind and moulded by the hands of others.

He carries himself in a way that he can seem to easily blend into the background, not at all longing for a place in the spotlight and much more inclined to place that attention onto others, though he seems to genuinely believe acknowledgement and validation should be paid where it is owed.

Despite his background as being one of the Highborne, Marint doesn't make much use out of his arcane ability, nor does he believe it to be the end-all, be-all. Considering the ever ongoing changes in the world, he has adapted in a rather seamless way, not quite adventurous, but rather optimistic, even in the face of the unknown, leading him to be a largely courageous man who seems rather unflappable.

Relationships –––

Mother: Renau Disenn, Iesanne Neseithe Father: Gileth Neseithe Siblings: Vyasa (Younger Sister) Children: Turleth (Son - Adopted) Other Family: Tiaphe and Ori (nieces), Ysren and Sunlen (cousins) Pets: N/A

Sex & Romance –––

Sexual Orientation: Bi-romantic / Heterosexual Preferred Role: Dominant | Submissive | Switch | Unknown Preferred Position: Bottom | Top | Vers | Unknown Turn ons: Intelligence, art, humour Turn offs: Mockery, cruelty, barbaric behaviour Love Language: Quality time, words of affirmation, gifts Relationship Tendencies: Marint is an affectionate man, but always struggles to trust his partners, often resulting in the end of his relationships.

Traits –––

Bold your character’s answer

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted Disorganized / In Between / Organized Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded Calm / In Between / Anxious Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable Cautious / In Between / Reckless Patient / In Between / Impatient Outspoken / In Between / Reserved Leader / In Between / Follower Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic Traditional / In Between / Modern Hard-working / In Between / Lazy Cultured / In Between / Uncultured Loyal / In Between / Disloyal Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional Information –––

Smoking Habit: Never Drugs: Never Alcohol: Socially, Rarely

RP Hooks –––

Marint is a seller of information and tends to sell the information he has to the highest bidder. He never shares where he gets his information from or how he's obtained it. He simply passes it along. He has been known among others for being a Man Who Simply Knows Things.

Although Marint is not the sort to involve himself in the affairs of his clients or those who purchase information from him, or that he may be passing information to, it is often said that sometimes those who procure information from him tend to have unfortunate happenstance follow them. He personally gives no credence to these rumours and attributes this to coincidence.

He is frequently seen in the company of Vueze Rundonthos, the matriarch of her house, for whom he appears to be council or servant. It is surmised that the information he obtains frequently comes from Vueze herself, though he has never confirmed or denied this.

It is not uncommon to see him in the company of Soryk Val'kaeon, an unscrupulous sellsword under the arrogant moniker the Left Hand of Fate. It is undetermined if they are merely professional accomplices or friends.

Marint has sculpted a variety of statues and fountains, many of which can be found within Suramar's city. He will, on occasion, accept commissions from others, though seems to largely do these things of his own free will and for the love of the craft rather than monetary survival.

Looking For –––

Friends, romantic partners, ex-romantic partners, informants, black market individuals, merchants, criminals, and other artists of all varieties.

I like making connections with other players and really want to build relationships with other characters. I believe in organic development and will roleplay pretty much anything on the spectrum from joyful, domestic bliss to tragedy and anguish to murder and other reprehensible things. (I am pretty not good at writing combat; sorry in advance!)

I love the exploration and the growth between characters and their dynamics, be it positive, negative, or in some grey place.

Contact –––

You can contact me with IC or OOC things on the below:

In-game Mail / Tells / Messages Tumblr Asks / Messages If you have my discord name, please feel free to reach out to me, especially if we share a discord server. (I don't hand this out, but I'll give it to people I've played with before.)

With a befuddled amusement, Marint didn't wait long to write him back. In his ever quiet study of books, sculpted worked in progress, drafted sketches, he leaned over a candle as evening began to fall. Sure. He'd meet with Soryk. Curiosity wouldn't let him do anything else.

Don't disappoint me, now.

He smiled with satisfaction when he finished it. He'd put it in the hands of the courier the next morning.

About a week after following their back and forth, Marint and Soryk found themselves at the former's home. They could have gone to a tavern. He might have preferred it, even. Although he told Turleth about working with him, he tended to keep those two things separate. Soryk was involved in dangerous things and given Turleth's background, what happened to his parents, Marint didn't want to invite more potential danger.

But Soryk had insisted it was important and that a tavern wasn't going to do. So he succumbed, and they stood in the very room where Marint kept his sculpting tools. In fact, he was working on a fresh piece, just barely chipping out the core traits, which looked like... really nothingso far except pale stone missing some pieces. Soryk was pacing. Marint didn't see him, but he could hear him. Above them, sunlight poured in through windows, illuminating the entire room. It was why Marint worked in it.

Streaks of sunlight stretched across the walls and the floor, flashed across the stone in question, and sprinkled no shortage of cheer in a place that felt like it might be anything but with Soryk's presence. Perhaps that wasn't fair. The guy had a sense of humour. Sometimes.

"You're going to wear a path in the floor if you keep doing that," Marint mentioned somewhat absentmindedly. "You can sit down, you know." But he knew Soryk wasn't going to do that either.

For one reason or another, he was all up in arms about... something. Marint wasn't sure he could make sense of it, really. Something about him playing bodyguard to a young woman who liked jewellery? Or jewels or stones or something. Supposedly it was going to be a longer trip, which probably meant that jobs Marint ordinarily would have put his way were going to have to go to one of his other contacts.

He knew not to admit it out loud, but he was going to miss Soryk, honestly. They may have only been work comrades and Marint kept him at a certain distance, but at the same time, he genuinely liked the man. If circumstances were different, they could have been friends. In their own way, they already were. At least, according to Marint they were. Again, Soryk never would have put it that way. He probably never called anyone a friend. Who the hell knew why.

In lieu of Soryk still pacing, Marint sighed, pausing a moment, choosing to look over to him. "So, I don't really see what the problem is. You're guarding this young woman and... what. What exactly do you think is going to happen? Someone happens upon you. You take care of them. Easy. You could get laid. That wouldn't be the worst thing. I daresay you could use a little of that, actually. You're wound so tight. Maybe she could loosen you up. For like, the ten seconds you'd last anyway."

When he was met with the transparent scowl that Soryk shot him, Marint immediately laughed. He could never resist. Soryk was so easy to get under the skin of. For him, anyway. Maybe he didn't react that way with others. Or maybe those others weren't brave enough to poke and prod at him the way Marint did. He could believe that. Soryk was, objectively, a fairly intimidating man. He almost never smiled and even when he did, it was usually pretty obvious that it wasn't real. He rarely laughed. And when he spoke, he often sounded unamused and a little bitter.

"No, seriously," Marint continued, freeing a sigh that was somewhere between resignation and disbelief. "What's the problem?"

"The problem," Soryk began, gesturing absently with a hand for no rhyme or reason. "is that it's just the two of us. Where I would prefer to say a lot of nothing, she is not like that. I do not have enough material to carry on multiple weeks of conversation."

"...You sure sleeping with her isn't an option? You don't have to talk then." The pause Soryk gave was far longer than Marint felt was really normal for him. Setting down his chisel, he lifted an arm to lean gently on the block of stone he'd been working on. "You've thought about it."

"I didn't say anything," the sin'dorei countered.

"You didn't have to," Marint replied. "So you've considered it. Or at least... considered what it might be like. She's got dark hair, right? This is because you like women with dark hair." With his free hand, he pointed, like he thought he was putting the pieces together. "And this is something to do with before. Like before we met."

Whenever Soryk clammed up, Marint tended to think he was on the road to being right. For if he hadn't been, likely Soryk would have argued. When he was met with silence, he felt like he put more pieces of the puzzle together, though trying to get information out of him was impossible. He didn't know the details, of course, but he was able to pick out one or two things. Soryk got weird around dark-haired women. Well. He got weird around all women. Marint might have thought he had a preference for the other side, but that didn't seem to be the case. He didn't ask. Wasn't going to. But he had a fairly good read on people. It probably wasn't that.

Maybe had his heart broken by a woman once. No. That was unlikely. Soryk didn't seem to care much what other people thought of him, much less women. He was never trying to impress anyone, and usually he was avoiding that kind of attention.

"Okay," Marint began, lifting a hand and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I can't read your mind here. You're going to have to help me out. Presumably, there was a dark-haired woman before we met. And you... Something about that. And for whatever reason, this dark-haired woman you're guarding makes you... think of this other woman. Or... something."

He snorted. "Or am I totally off base?"

Soryk shook his head, "This was such a mistake." He brought up in hands in surrender, "Just forget I said anything."

"Well. I can't really do that," Marint replied, raising his pale eyebrows. "I mean, you're the one who came all the way out here and obviously this is really bothering you. I've never seen anything bother you, which means this is serious." But he couldn't talk about it. Whatever it was, and it felt like it was right there in Marint's grasp, Soryk couldn't get over whatever that last hurdle was.

Maybe over a bottle of bourbon. Except that wasn't how Marint wanted to get information. It sure felt like he'd pushed hard enough. It'd taken a lot just for Soryk to come out to Suramar. Let alone to even try having a conversation of that magnitude.

I suppose it's just not time yet.

Good thing they had a lot of time. Well. Maybe not Soryk if he wasn't going to survive this trip he was going to go on. Assuming he didn't cook up some half-assed excuse for why he couldn't do it. That didn't seem like him, though. Soryk had never been that sort.

"Alright, alright," the shal'dorei conceded. "How about we forget about it for now. We revisit it later."

Assuming they revisited it at all. He questioned the likelihood of that, though. After some moments, he wondered if Soryk would just leave. When he didn't and the two of them stood in silence for some moments, he also considered offering Soryk his chisel. Maybe that would help release whatever beast he had inside of him. In the end, he decided on something considerably more empathetic.

"Why don't you join Turleth and me for dinner." It felt like he was breaking a rule, trying to keep that clear divide. But if it was just dinner, it'd be fine. And it wasn't like they were going to make a habit of it. "It won't be anything fancy, but it'll be better than the stuff we usually get at the tavern."

Without even waiting for a response, he turned, lifting a hand, and gestured for Soryk to follow along. He couldn't help feeling, as he listened to the steps their pairs of feet made on the stone floor, that they'd grown a little closer. Even if that hadn't been Soryk's intention. In some ways, he had gotten nowhere with trying to figure him out, but in others, he thought maybe he was gaining a little more understanding.

After all, Soryk couldn't remain a mystery forever. Someone was going to crack him open eventually.

— @daily-writing-challenge