Winterlisse

–––– 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝒶𝓈𝒾𝒸𝓈 ––––

NAME: Dymere (Die-meer)

AGE: Unknown.

RACE: Unknown.

GENDER: Male.

SEXUALITY: Bisexual.

ALIGNMENT: Chaotic-evil.

MARITAL STATUS: Single.

SERVER: Wyrmrest Accord.

–––– 𝒫𝒽𝓎𝓈𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝒜𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 ––––

HAIR:  Raven’s down feather, shoulder-length, and soft.

EYES: Left eye missing, right eye a brilliant cerulean.

HEIGHT: 7’2”.

BUILD: Muscular with a little fat.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Crescent, runic scars upon both eyes, etching into each frayed brows. Missing over a third of his left ear.

COMMON ACCESSORIES: A staff carved from a world tree stained black strapped to his back, plus a ritual dagger tucked away in a sheath upon his belt..

AESTHETIC: Void, wolves, strength, power, hatred, and guitars.

––––  𝒫𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁 ––––

PROFESSION: Magic-seeker, mercenary, witch hunter, and rune carver.

HOBBIES: Reading, playing guitar, culinary activities and most importantly, his workout routine.

LANGUAGES: Common, Darnassian, Thalassian, Orcish, and very little Gutterspeak.

RESIDENCE: Nomad.

BIRTHPLACE: Hyjal.

PATRON: Goldrinn.

FEARS: Going completely blind, being burned alive.

–––– 𝑅𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅𝓈 –––-

SPOUSE: None.

CHILDREN: Several. Two of which he knows: Xaimere (eldest) and Amorthon (youngest?).

PARENTS: Ethon [Fang in Elvish] (Father) and Vanik (Mother)

OTHER RELATIVES: None he’s aware of.

MENTOR/GUARDIAN: Redaerien. (Deceased.)

PETS: None. 

–––- 𝑀𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎 –––-

Social Level: Seems friendly. Does not open up much. Would rather speak of things besides himself.

Optimistic View(s): “We will endure, as I always have.”

Pessimistic View(s): “What a waste.”

One Positive Personality Trait: Patient.

One Negative Personality Trait: Alone.

Random Quirk: Enjoys playing guitar at night upon docks with the shore washing around him.

Addictions: Magic. He absorbs and feasts.

Habits: Rolling his tongue across elongated teeth. 

–––– 𝒜𝒹𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝐼𝓃𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 ––––

 SMOKING HABIT: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

 DRUGS: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

 ALCOHOL: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

–––– 𝒫𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝑅𝒫 𝐻𝑜𝑜𝓀𝓈 ––––

Nomad: You have seen him wandering all of Lordaeron or the Eastern Kingdoms at all.

Hunter: You have come across him during times where he was on a mission throughout Azeroth.

Magic Seeker: You have seen him front line, with spiked shield and glowing runes lighting up the darkest of places upon the battlefield, tearing away any of those that use the Arcane.

Soldier: An impressive creature he is, mighty and ready to fight, you may have seen him at the front lines.

PLAYER’S CHOICE: I prefer to avoid more well-established connections with people I’m unfamiliar with (the fun is in forging these in RP, I find!), but I’m open to OOC discussion!

–––– 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼’𝓂 𝐿𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐹𝑜𝓇 ––––

A roleplay partner willing to deal with a grouchy and sometimes extremely protective old man. Someone who is truly wanting to gush over their character and not rush things. Someone who doesn’t care if things take a million years to get off the ground, even if things don’t work out - I just want to write with you.

Someone who is not afraid to delve into “dark” roleplay, including but not limited to: death, murder, stealing, ravaging, plundering, destroying… you get the idea.

–––– 𝒪𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇  ––––

This character’s concept is over 10+ years old. He is my boy. I am committed to him.

I like to draw scenes of the RP.

I am an extremely friendly person and I enjoy talking and headcannon-ing those who actually care about pursuing a relationship with my character, platonic or otherwise.

Adaptable to many different stories and situations.

All RP themes from the dark, serious, and mature (violence, sexuality, murder, drug / alcohol use, etc.) to the light-hearted, humorous, and cheerful. I enjoy balance. Awesome dramatic plots. Heavy, feels-ridden plots. Elaborate, grand-scale, long-term plots. One-shot plots. Personal and private plots. Subterfuge and hidden plots. Serious injury. Temporary injury and incapacitation of mind or body. Temporary captivity or imprisonment. Combat. Ambushes. Assassination attempts. Rivalries. Deep platonic friendships. Romantic tension. Sexual tension. Coarse language.

Very friendly, but overwhelmingly anxious!

–––– 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓋𝒾𝒶 ––––

Asks, prompts and boosts are all loved and appreciated! ♥

“Anyone? In this world? I’d like to be a small room with then-Crown Prince Arthas Menethil. Maybe I’d tell him what’s coming in his reign. Maybe I’d rough him up a bit. Or maybe I’d just take his leg and be done with the bastard. Let’s see him mobilize an undead army then with one leg. Cunt.”

With the expansion continuing on and characters becoming more prevalent in particular stories below are the characters currently taking precedence:

Fierlin Westmorn 

- Once a Southshore Guardswoman, she has now become a Waywatcher of Kul Tiras; keeping keen eyes on the local towns and the roads between, ridding them of any troubles that might arise.

Blog: westmorn.tumblr.com  

Zalmora Starhaven  

- Prior Quel’dorei Spell Breaker,  under contract with Dalaran to bring in magic abusers and rogue Blue Dragonflight . Now a Ren’dorei learning to adapt.

Blog: castingdownstars.tumblr.com

Several Years Ago…

It always bode ill when letters would be received on the high seas. Just the semantics of having the carrier hawks able to find the colors of his own ship and the recipient of the letter in question was mind-boggling enough for him to understand. Whomever wanted his presence in attendance with the other captains was persistent; this was the third correspondence in the span of a month.

“Are you takin’ the bait this time?”

Marcus glanced along to his first mate, Lotz, as the short and stout man squinted along toward him in preparation of what he was going to say.

“If I don’t, this will undoubtedly continue until they find us anyway. Why not. Let us see what kind of accord this ‘lord’ wants to bring us into.”

*

What a mistake. It was the first thing he thought of when he could see the series of galleons and ships met together in the center of a larger barge; in the middle of open ocean. If this was not stampeding into a den of lions, he was unsure of what could be considered otherwise.

Many of the other crews that were gathered were business partners at one time: The Cutback Rowers, The Red Talons. Others he simply knew by name. Captains and leaders in their own right: Maggy Cole, Derec Branford, and Marten Loire. But all in one place? It was as if someone were looking to clear the board of pieces and this was the proper place to do it.

It had been what felt like an hour; an hour of watching continuous bickering and pointing fingers as a proverbial meeting of the minds was taking place on the deck of the large ship that every other had congregated around. Some of the crews were arguing about claim to a track of land or a claim to a location. All while their benefactor looked on with a self-satisfied smile; something that did not particularly sit right with Marcus.

*

It was as shady a practice as it could have been; no one knew his name other than ‘The Benefactor’ and if that was not the writing on the wall that he needed to distrust this conniving, noble pig, then perhaps it was the way he dressed and always carried that smug smile fixed to his lips. Marcus chose to lean backward against a support nearest the center of the ship, closing his eyes as the yelling and bickering was almost atmospheric.

Silence, then. Marcus pursed his brow a bit, chewing on the inside of his lip before Lotz was elbowing him within the sides; “…they be lookin’ at ye…”

What.

Marcus Rhenson opened his eyes to see most of the whole deck looking in his direction; were they looking for HIS input? Maggy Cole seemed to think so, as her hand had been outstretched along to his person as if she were introducing him.

“Well, Rhenson? What do you think of all this?”

Marcus opened his eyes properly, licking away the dryness from his lips as his seafoam-green eyes skimmed over everyone save ‘The Benefactor’.

“Maggy, you don’t want to know what I think…”

“But we do! You’ve made a name for yourself and more. There was no one here better respected than you. We could use your guidance here more than ever.”

Marcus sighed heavily, pacing around the deck as Cole’s words were met with resounding taps and respectful nods in his direction. Why him. Why right now. All he wanted to do was lay down with some bourbon.

“…for the past hour, that snake in the grass has been smiling, nodding, and turning his hands in knots together like he were the worst scheming snake that had ever lived and sailed on these high seas. It’s as if he wants something to occur or someone to be slighted. Hinging on every single piece of information that’s come out of your mouths since you stepped foot on -his- ship. If it even is his ship. Do you all even see his crew here? Or has your avarice and greed blinded you from the encroaching vessels on the horizon?”

“..do what?”

And he was not lying. Black-sailed ships were closing in on the unmanned vessels with pronounced speed. And The Benefactor was no longer laughing; Marcus could swear he had gone pale. From a deadly calm to induced panic, the finely-dressed man was barking orders as hatch doors opened from below their feet; swarms of brigands and armed pirates overtaking the deck to descend upon the meeting with ire.

“OI! Nevah doubtin’ ye again, Cap’n!”

“Let’s hash this out when we’re NOT outnumbered, Lotz! SWORDS! SWORDS!”

Marcus rose the call to his men as the crews and warbands clashed but he had other intentions. The male took off into a full sprint, tracking the fleeing nobleman across the deck. Marcus reached down to his thigh, pulling forth a golden hatchet as his steps brought him on the tail of the portly noble with haste.

His arm slammed down to catch the blade of the hatchet into the shoulder-flank of the noble, causing the man to fall to his knees in pain. Marcus called forth to some of his crew, providing him a means to interrogate the snake as he lay bleeding.

“Not so smug now, hm? Who put you up to this show? Cough it out, worm.”

Through clenched gold and bloody teeth, the nobleman simply hissed and spat in Marcus’ direction, shaking his head, “BAH! Fuck you! FUCK YO—”

Marcus released the tension on the hatchet’s end-weapon; a crude blunderbuss that made quick work of the noble’s face before he dropped the corpse to the floor, spitting down on the finely-tailored overcoat.

“Relieve him of his valuables and clean the deck of his miscreants. We have some barges to sink. And find me a bottle of rum, while you’re at it.”

Marcus glancing off-deck to spot the other captains making it to their ships to engage the black sails.

White

also: pale; blanched; sallow; pallid; waxen; spectral; translucent; albino; 

Grey

also: dust; stone; pepper;  

Black

also:  coal; slate; dusky; ebon; shadow; murky; 

Tan

also: flesh; khaki; cream; tawny; 

Brown

also:  henna; russet; sepia; chestnut; cocoa; drab; bronze; 

Red

also: terracotta ; rouge; carmine;  fire-engine; ruddy

Orange

also:  pumpkin ; rust ; 

Yellow

also: sunny; amber; saffron; hay; straw; platinum; 

Green

also: viridescent; grass; jade; forest; 

Blue

also: turquoise; cyan; ultramarine; royal; aqua; aquamarine;

Purple

also: berry;  amaranthine;

Pink

also: flushed; candy; cherry blossom; petal pink ; 

—– source: http://ingridsundberg.com/