[b]Edit:[/b] Finished! Sorry for the... non-short short biography. I got him to Lutaire and realized that crap, now I need to figure out how he ended up on the streets, too. Welp, sorry parents. [hider=Rylan Twyford][center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d9/80/09/d98009e5da37bfd3ad6cc23602488146.jpg[/img] [color=#FFFFFF][i]"These alleys are no place for a lordling. If milord is looking for trouble, might I suggest the woods beyond the city? They're just as dangerous, but at least the smell's more bearable."[/i][/color][/center] [hr] [color=#FFFFFF][b]Name[/b][/color]: Rylan Twyford [color=#FFFFFF][b]Age[/b][/color]: 18 [color=#FFFFFF][b]Gender[/b][/color]: Male [color=#FFFFFF][b]Class[/b][/color]: Scoundrel [color=#FFFFFF][b]Country of Origin[/b][/color]: Tenebroux [color=#FFFFFF][b]Weapons[/b][/color]: [indent]♙ A simple dagger, not entirely untouched by the elements. The handle is worn and the edge rugged, kept sharp only by regular (amateurish) maintenance. Make no mistake, though; prime condition or not, a stab to the gut is a stab to the gut - and necessity gives Rylan quite an aim indeed. ♙ A crudely made slingshot. More useful for shooting down pigeons for dinner than injuring an actual person, but can at least provide a small distraction in a pinch. ♙ Rope. Good ol', plain rope. It's more useful than you'd think.[/indent] [color=#FFFFFF][b]Appearance[/b][/color]: [indent]On most days, Rylan looks about what you'd expect from a kid who's grown up on the streets. Standing at 5'6'', the lack of proper nutrition has left him scrawny and short, even in face of all the physical activity he engages in every day. His hair is a tangled mess of strands and mud, his clothes torn and ditty, and the slums have left him with a distinct smell. Needless to say, he's not the most charming sight to behold on his worst days. However, should there be a special need for him to look more presentable, he can - at least, if given ample time to prepare. Before fate thrust him onto the streets, he used to spend his days wrapped in scented silks and knows how to play the part of a someone more fortunate. He has a few articles of finer cloth safely tugged away in one of his many stashes, and though he knows selling them would fetch him many a coin, he figures they're worth more when worn. He can't exactly sneak into festivals looking like he usually does. It should also be noted that while his physical strength is nothing to brag about, Rylan [i]is [/i]incredibly nimble; a cat on two feet, he always seems to find a way to land on his proverbial feet. To the chagrin of many a past pursuer, the boy can scale a building or lose a guard with the best of them. He has an uncanny ability to squeeze himself into the smallest of crevices and disappear as if unto thin air if you so much as lose sight of him for a second. It may sound admirable - but really, anything less and he'd be long dead by now.[/indent] [color=#FFFFFF][b]Personality:[/b][/color] [indent]Don't let the cocky grin and confident stride fool you - despite his casual smugness, Rylan is as craven as they come. Concerned first and foremost with his own well-being, loyalties mean little and promises even less when push comes to shove. It's not that he doesn't care about you - it's just that he cares about himself [i]more[/i]. He's aware that his life is hardly one for the bards, but it is the only life he'll ever have and he intends to hold onto it tooth and nail. Unfortunately for him (and certainly those around him) Rylan also comes packaged with a bitter sense of humour and a sharp tongue. Smartass at heart, it is only self-preservation that keeps Rylan's wit at bay most of the time. If need be, he knows just what to do to butter people up and has no qualms with throwing away pride for another morrow. As far as he's concerned, whoever said they'd rather die on their feet than live on their knees was a halfwit. He's lived knee-deep in rat droppings, and even that beats throwing your life away for some childish concept of 'pride'. With all that said, Rylan isn't entirely an unpleasant person. He may not be one to throw himself in front of an incoming arrow to save your knee in a shocking display of courage, but if you are a perceived friend, he will extend a hand where he's able. He isn't purposefully looking to make enemies, and will most likely return a favour if you've done one for him. The world is already a shitty place, he isn't [i]trying [/i]to make it worse.[/indent] [color=#FFFFFF][b]Short Biography[/b][/color]: [indent]Though he's spent most of his life in Lutaire, Rylan's earliest memories are of a place far beyond the mountains and swamps - a place that lies across the endless ocean, under an eternal sun. There, as he recalls, everything was much sweeter; the weather, the scents, the words spoken to him by strangers. As a boy, he never understood the hurry with which his parents left. Now, he understands all too well. Rylan's parents were lowborn. His mother was a foreign beauty, stolen away and sold to a local lord as his seventh concubine, and his father was a slave under the very same roof, convicted for crimes he never committed and stripped of his freedom. Their first meeting was happenstance; their next few were not. For years, they managed to keep their rendezvous a secret, the comfort they found in each other the only thing that kept them sane. And then the news broke that she was with child. For nine long months, both lived in a state of constant fear. Many a time they contemplated escape, but an opportunity never did present itself. So all they did was pray, pray and [i]pray [/i]that the child would not bear resemblance to their true father. The gods must've heard, because he did not. He had his mother's eyes, and her fair skin had made his a shade lighter than his peer's. For years, life was... the same old, as it were. Rylan doesn't really remember much of it. He bore a different name and lead a different life, and it all feels as though it happened to someone else entirely. The only thing he can remember vividly is the day they fled; the sky was starless and filled with smoke. He had started to resemble his father too much as he grew. There were whispers. The fire in the northernmost tower was a sign from the gods. Theirs would have been a tale for the bards; two lovers, escaping into the night with their child. If only they'd gotten the happily ever after they justly deserved. The few years the couple spent in Lutaire were filled with hardships and strife. They were strangers in a strange land and eventually, that led to their demise. Bandits slayed them, attracted by the smell of sweet summer wines and tales of riches from beyond the sea. Big was their disappointment, when they found naught worth stealing in the couple's hut - except their young son. He ought to fetch a few coppers. Rylan never did find out exactly [i]how [/i]many coppers he fetched, but considering how grand the place of his new master was, he hoped it was a fine amount. For a time, he worked as a servant boy to a lord with a gaze that made his skin crawl. His tasks consisted mostly of serving wine and looking the part of an exotic trophy from beyond the seas. That was, until one day during a boar hunt, his lord and company were attacked by sellswords, after the man's gold - and head. Being young, Rylan was spared the bloodbath by one of the mercenaries and dropped off to the nearest town with a few coins, a piece of bread and a 'good luck' for good measure. And for a foreign boy with no particular skills to his name, luck was indeed what he needed. Almost a decade later, Rylan's come to the conclusion that Lady Luck's a bitch and he's better off without her. [/indent] [color=#FFFFFF][b]Summary[/b][/color]: If it looks like a street rat, sounds like a street rat and smells like a street rat, it's probably Rylan. [color=#FFFFFF][b]Other[/b][/color]: ♙ Has a soft spot for animals of all kinds, and would love to one day behold a dragon up close. A dangerous affair, he knows, but it's not animals - even fire-breathing ones - that scare him so; it's people. ♙ Has spent time in a few other towns and villages besides the one he currently resides in. He often does his travelling with merchants or performer groups, working for free in exchange for protection from the elements. He's been in this village for a few years now, and leaving has crossed his mind. It's never a good thing to stay in one place for too long, lest you get caught and lose a hand or two. [/hider]