Parnis Val'kaeon / Soryk

Physical Appearance –––

Hair: Red Red - Mid-Back Facial Hair: He prefers to keep a goatee, but often lets his shadow grow in before he sees fit to groom it. Eyes: Aqua Height: 6'0" Build: Muscular Enough Distinguishing Marks: N/A Scars: His body (torso, abdomen, arms, legs) in general is riddled in a variety of scars. Tattoos: N/A Piercings: Two holes in his left ear, One in his right. He doesn't usually wear earrings, however. Common Accessories: Whether it's in his hair or somewhere on his person, Soryk tends to carry a rather ratty teal ribbon of silk. In his boots, he keeps his daggers, which are relatively nondescript and don't appear to be sentimental. He keeps them in good condition, however. Likeness: Mads Mikkelsen

Personal Information –––

Profession: Soryk has been a sellsword and informant ever since the Scourge came up through Quel'Thalas. Hobbies: Is murder a hobby? Soryk spends the majority of his time looking for his next job. He spends a decent amount of time people watching and eavesdropping on conversation, usually in hopes of acquiring information that he can sell to someone else. On the rare occasion, Soryk enjoys reading non-fictional pieces on strategy. He also favours goblin engineering and technological advancements. Languages: Orcish, Thalassian, Common Currently Living: Soryk tends to travel from inn to inn to inn, wherever his work might carry him, however, he has an actual run-down place of residence in the south of Stranglethorn (Booty Bay). Birthplace: Quel'Thalas - The very heart of Silvermoon Religion: N/A Fears: People in general, women specifically, children, romantic connections, romantic anything, his dead wife coming back to life, necromancy and necromancers, forming connections with others, consequently letting down someone he's formed a connection with.

Personality/Description:

Soryk is a rather tall man and often stands and carries himself with a somewhat intimidating posture. His tanned skin implies that he sees plenty of sun. He keeps his very red hair long, often wearing it back or up in some way, held in place by a teal ribbon that has seen better days. He could claim that he keeps his facial hair well-groomed and as close to immaculate as possible, however, the goatee normally adorning his chin frequently overgrows until he sees fit to fix it.

He is not an excessively muscular man, but enough so that it is evident he is rather self-sufficient. He tends to favour soft leathers and despite his height and his build, is rather good at stepping lightly, something that he claims goes hand-in-hand with his work. Although he doesn't dress in any way that would be considered impressive, when he speaks, he still often carries a flourish to his tone that betrays older days of being well-educated. It is likely that Soryk comes from a minor noble household, though he claims he doesn't support that kind of lifestyle.

He presents himself as being very self-interested and not particularly charitable, though at times he will do things (such as paying for pastries at a bakery where the first [reasonable] order is free) that contradict that. He is the kind of man who is most concerned with himself. Where he's going, how to get there, and how to use others to achieve that. Despite this, he doesn't really wear that openly, instead opting for a certain annoying potential charisma about his person.

His line of work has put him in many positions where he's had to do cruel things such as murdering entire families, poisoning water supplies, torturing people by cutting off various body parts and sending them off for ransom. As a result of this ongoing lifestyle, Soryk does not seem to be a particularly apologetic or empathetic man. He is very pragmatic and very much of the mind that he will do whatever he has to do in order to survive, even if that means making sure others don't.

Whilst it may seem that he loves the sound of his own voice, Soryk prefers to make it seem like he's saying a lot, but in actuality, trying to give as little information about himself as possible. He is an incredibly private person and really keeps everyone at an appropriate arm's length of him, both physically and emotionally.

Soryk's relationship with and to women is turbulent at best. He is not afraid to be openly chauvinistic and misogynistic towards many of them, or to simply treat them as though they have no significance or importance. The ease in which he does this, however, implies that it's likely a built facade. Soryk is actually relatively terrified of both women and children, and rather, it would be more accurate to say that he's more terrified to form relationships with either as a result of his history with loss.

He doesn't really make mention of having any friends, though he has at least one, and prefers to consider himself more of a 'lone wolf' sort of individual.

Relationships –––

Mother: Narine Val'kaeon (Alive) Father: Zanith Val'kaeon (Status Unknown - Soryk assumes he is deceased.) Siblings: N/A Children: N/A Other Family: Ei'riya Aubingne (Wife - Deceased) Pets: N/A

Sex & Romance –––

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Preferred Role: Dominant | Submissive | Switch | Unknown Preferred Position: Bottom | Top | Vers | Unknown Turn ons: Banter, intelligence, wit, deception, manipulation, murder, blood, knives Turn offs: Obsession, religion, zealotry and fanaticism of any kind, excessive romance Love Language: Acts of service, gifts Relationship Tendencies: Soryk struggles deeply with commitment, but not because of a lack of capacity to love. Rather, he fears losing someone that he does love and having already experienced that once, he is definitely afraid to experience it again.

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: Previously Socially, Nowadays Never Drugs: Previously Socially, Nowadays Rarely Alcohol: Liberally and Socially

RP Hooks –––

The only son of the Val'kaeon household, which prior to the Third War, was not entirely unheard of. After the Third War, however, any discussion of this household mysteriously vanished. Despite his appearance, Soryk still speaks in a rather schooled and educated way, potentially betraying his more privileged upbringing.

'Soryk' is an alias, though the man himself may insist that it's actually his name. It is the name he uses every time he accepts a job. Enemies and allies alike would be familiar with it.

A mercenary and sellsword by trade, Soryk will do anything for the right amount of coin. He is a deeply unscrupulous man, making him an excellent candidate for tasks that would ordinarily make stomachs churn and breed apprehension.

Rather good with his hands and not lacking in skill when it comes to skinning, tanning, and hiding, Soryk doesn't sell any of his works, but every now and then one might be able to happen upon him when he's keeping himself preoccupied with something other than dirty deeds.

Often found in the company of a shal'dorei robed man by the name of Marint. The two can frequently be found visiting local taverns all over Azeroth (and other places) usually huddled in a corner. In some of these taverns, Soryk seems to be somewhat known by the serving parties, for good and bad reasons alike.

Looking For –––

Friends, frenemies, rivals, enemies, romantic partners, pre-established relationships from his past, business opportunities, employers, fellow sellswords and informants, other unscrupulous types, innocent people who want to be corrupted or somehow otherwise jeopardised.

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.)

Sighing, he moved from his makeshift shelter out in the ever-infinite autumn woods, and down by the riverside. Despite the relative increase in foot traffic considering the nature of Quel'Thalas' recent activities, he was still able to find quiet, relatively remote places that he wouldn't be disturbed in. The present being one such, thankfully. Each step felt just as heavy as its predecessor and sweeping his mane of red back, he gave little care to the rest of the world around him.

There was nothing to remove because aside from the simple blankets he slept in, Soryk didn't often wear anything when he slept. Sometimes he did, if it was a place he felt he didn't know well, but in Quel'Thalas, there was nothing that was going to catch him by surprise. And any spiders wanting to share a sleeping space with him would likely find one of his daggers shoved in between some set of impressive eyes.

The water itself was cold, which he expected. Sun hadn't been out long enough for it to warm up and it wouldn't be until the late afternoon that it would feel even remotely passable. By that time, all of his things would be packed and it'd be like he was never there to begin with. Didn't stop him from grimacing before he decided to just get it all over with.

Dunking below the water's surface, he shot up shortly after, whipping his hair back as it slapped into him with a wet plap. As he saw to his skin, trying to scrub layers of dirt that he'd gathered over the recent days, he thought to the trip again.

He still wasn't really sure why Orilyne had asked him to begin with. He didn't even know why he'd agreed. Well, no. That wasn't true. He knew why. From appearance to how she carried herself, how she spoke with him, that sense of humour... She made him think of Ahtay. He didn't like that.

Ahtay was a very firm part of his past. She had, no doubt, moved on. As was her right. As she should have done. Especially after he had undoubtedly yanked her back and forth. He didn't know how much of his feelings involved missing her or being angry with himself for letting things go the way they had, even if he couldn't have controlled all of them. He'd thought it before, that even if he had asked her to marry him, leaving immediately afterwards for so long and nearly dying? That would have been worse, right?

He could have at least told her how he felt. Maybe. If he felt like he could ever put words to it.

How much of him digging into these thoughts had anything to do with Ahtay, though? Wasn't it just that Orilyne was a living, glaring reminder of everything he'd done? Or not done, as the case often seemed to be. Did he think that somehow being nice to her would make up for everything in the past? All of which had absolutely nothing to do with her.

Was it because he wasn't blind? Orilyne was a beautiful woman. A great conversationalist. Dangerous. He... found those traits favourable, even if he didn't really like admitting to it. And she gave him an overabundance of attention that was impossible for him to ignore. Her reasoning for doing so, he couldn't say. He definitely wasn't going to ask.

Couldn't address it. Couldn't pursue it. Couldn't encourage it. Not in good faith.

Scrubbing at his hair with his relatively simple and cheap bar of peacebloom soap, Soryk groaned. What the fuck was he supposed to talk about on their journey, anyway? She wanted to go from one end of the Eastern Kingdoms to the other. How was he supposed to fill that time in with conversation? Soryk was terrible at that. There were so many other people who would have been more suited to it. He'd go and talk about swords or whatever unimportant, trivial nonsense along the way just to fill the space.

She'd probably ask questions. He didn't like that either. Didn't want to answer questions about himself. At least, nothing that was deep or prying. If it had been up to him, he would've made the entire trip in relative quiet and he knew that wasn't going to fly. Why would it? Ori was this saturated force in the universe. She'd made that clear to him. Dull things weren't her style. And she had so much personality packed inside of that body that whilst he wouldn't have thought of her as high maintenance, she was a little intimidating.

He'd been fortunate to remain on her good side. He wondered if she'd still feel the same way after their trip with one another. Of course, if she magically hated him afterwards, maybe that was for the better. He wouldn't have to feel like he was just going to be a living embodiment of disappointment.

Again, though. Why did he even care? That didn't feel like him at all.

He shook his head, as if by doing so, he could shake off every memory he'd ever had of Ahtay. Every time Ori had looked at him with those striking, prying gold-and-green-accented eyes of hers. To think about either would lead him nowhere good.

He'd have to bury himself in thoughts of maps, of torches, of food, of routes, and every other thing they'd need on their trip. No distractions. No deviations.

Maybe it was time to have a talk with Marint about everything. He almost dreaded that more, but if there was a man who knew women, it would surely be him. Or maybe he'd slap some sense into him.