Member
Vec
“The crown is protected by the Blood. Remember that!”
Saewine is a boy of nobility, one whose birth has granted him features opposed to lowborns and peasants. His skin, though pale, has a shine to it that speaks of his cleanliness. He stands at a average height of 5'9, being neither intimidating nor comforting to look at. While he often holds an expression of cheerfulness, there is a goring eeriness that lurks in his black eyes. If not for his shaggy black strands, obscuring them at times, one would be forced to gaze upon them indefinitely.
Like any noble, Saewine has glorified family armor. Steel pieces that fit his body are carried into the midst of other less fortunate recruits. They gleam with all the care that has been given to them. A pale blue cape is fastened to his shoulder, falling down his back and flowing inches from the ground, along with a likewise waist cloth that ends at his knees. Chain mail can clearly be seen between the pieces of the Bloodworth's sterling legacy.
His body is not quite average, for his muscles are sculpted from his overzealous running. He has however, maintained a lean physique, capable of enduring long sprints and producing great bursts of strength when needed. “The perfect body” is what many servants of the Bloodworth family has called him. A inside joke that was never really hurried home, for it was out the moment he overheard his chambermaid speak of it.
【Full Name】
【Aliases】
【Age】
【Sex】
【Sexuality】
【Religion】
【Family】
【Birthplace】
【Societal standing】
【Former employment】
【Rank and role】
【Personality】
【History】
【Dreams, short term goals, and fears.】
【Skills】
【Martial prowess】
【Combat style】
【Weaponry】
【Armor】
Saewine Era Bloodworth
【Aliases】
Era, Bloodworth Pup, Sae.
【Age】
18
【Sex】
Male
【Sexuality】
Heterosexual
【Religion】
None, though he feigns Monarchism when asked.
【Family】
Saewine of Grosswick has not kept in contact with his family since his forceful departure to the Black Shields. Though he's certain his father and mother are held up in their small keep; forever building up their reputation and prestige by being politically intrusive. At the moment, his relationship with his father is severely strained and his is ignorant of his mother's pleas.
【Birthplace】
Grosswick, Bloodworth Keep
【Societal standing】
Highborn.
【Former employment】
Highborn's Child.
【Rank and role】
Common Soldier
【Personality】
Saewine is a care-free young man who once ran the courtyards of his home with vigor. He, like many living in Grosswick, was immersed in the religion Monarchism, though he rarely took heed to the teachings. The virtues that only marginally included himself was of poor relation and importance. His kind nature however was not disturbed by such, only his shyness hindered him from being a saint. When he can, he helps others regardless of the task , which at times can lead him to attempting difficult problems.
Combat is like a commoner's disease to him. He knows that it exists and at times hears of it, but mostly he just ignores the it. When he picks up a blade, his hand trembles and when he swings it, his wrist falters. This obvious lack of know-how prods his self-esteem. He knows that he lacks but hopes he has potential. When asked about it, he'll fumble honestly with his words until the truth is revealed. He knows little to nothing.
Beyond this, he is a easily wounded lad. His heart is tender and it takes little to hurt his feelings. However, he is also very adept with hiding it behind angry outbursts. Oddly enough, his guilt is usually quick to show afterwards. Leaving him reluctantly searching out the target of his rage to apologize. Only those that deeply and truly deserve his fury will know the Bloodworth traits that courses through him. Merciless and unforgiving.
Combat is like a commoner's disease to him. He knows that it exists and at times hears of it, but mostly he just ignores the it. When he picks up a blade, his hand trembles and when he swings it, his wrist falters. This obvious lack of know-how prods his self-esteem. He knows that he lacks but hopes he has potential. When asked about it, he'll fumble honestly with his words until the truth is revealed. He knows little to nothing.
Beyond this, he is a easily wounded lad. His heart is tender and it takes little to hurt his feelings. However, he is also very adept with hiding it behind angry outbursts. Oddly enough, his guilt is usually quick to show afterwards. Leaving him reluctantly searching out the target of his rage to apologize. Only those that deeply and truly deserve his fury will know the Bloodworth traits that courses through him. Merciless and unforgiving.
【History】
Being born into the Bloodworth Family has its undeniable privileges. A comfortable life with servants, good food, and restful afternoons were but a few. The only downside to it was a shattering and grim, twist of fate. Saewine Era Bloodworth, second son of Elign Verun Bloodworth and Tessa Lotkin Bloodworth was free to live underneath the shady shadow of his brother: Heron Erinail Bloodworth. Though they were six years apart the two of them were near inseparable.
For Saewine, Heron was the hero in all the stories. He was courageous, if not a bit cocky and always up for a challenge. When he would win against local competitors, he bragged all day over his victories. Saewine—not the least bit interested in swordplay, horseback riding, archery, or anything of the sort—would usually listen with serious intent. While his father and mother was busy with the political chess game called Broacien and Heron with his own warrior hobbies and prodigious ways, Saewine was airily enjoying life.
But that was soon interrupted by his father's religious duties. A Prince-Priest, Elign was obligated to dictate the words of Monarchism to his children. Heron embrace the theology with open arms, becoming a Robed Sword soon afterwards. Saewine, however, was not so easily swayed. He kept his wits about him as the Monarch's Law was pushed onto him. While openly, he admitted he believed, he always held a bit of doubt in his heart and as such, took it lightly.
For as his father once said. “ The Pretender will lead you from the true Monarch. Toss not your Monarch aside, neither your King. For both will hold you dear. If you do, flames will lick your bones clean.”
Frightening as it may have been, Saewine quite easily found a balance between life and Monarchism. Years passed without incident, and life—besides the occasional death threat from political rivals—was peaceful. That was until orders from the King reached the Bloodworth Keep. They had been in service to the Kings of Broacien for generations. So it was only natural that they were to send a son to the Black Shields. Heron was to be sent, for he was no slouch with a blade and had already proven his worth in battle. However, he was not fated to go. For on some cobblestone street, drenched by rain and covered in mud, his corpse laid, dotted with arrows. Eyes open but empty.
When news reached them, a great cloud hung over the once bright Keep. Things were quiet. Unusually so. Dinners had become filled with unspoken curses, conversations, and arguments. Eventually, Elign told Saewine he was to go in his brother's steed to Rot Donar. Fearful for his life, Saewine argued that they'd be sending him to the grave. He had no training, he was not gifted with a sword or saddle like Heron. Unrelenting, Elign silenced the boy with a furious punch and demanded that he pack his things, for come morn, he would depart to Rot Donar.
Needless to say, Saewine tried to runaway that night. He was unfortunately captured by the Keep guards and tied to a pole in the Courtyard to await for departure. When the first lights of the sun woke him, he was met with his father's icy eyes. Somberly he explained that he packed the family's armor for him. Saewine pleaded once again. It went unheeded, only met with scriptures from the The Monarch's Law.
“ So you'd send me to die just like, Heron! You'd send me to perish too, Father!?”
The graying man silently walked away, a sadness that he refused to act on in his eyes. As they untied him—and kept him contained—he had expected to see his mother but she never showed. Instead, he was guided to a horse and alongside his watchers, cantered towards Rot Donar.
To die.
For Saewine, Heron was the hero in all the stories. He was courageous, if not a bit cocky and always up for a challenge. When he would win against local competitors, he bragged all day over his victories. Saewine—not the least bit interested in swordplay, horseback riding, archery, or anything of the sort—would usually listen with serious intent. While his father and mother was busy with the political chess game called Broacien and Heron with his own warrior hobbies and prodigious ways, Saewine was airily enjoying life.
But that was soon interrupted by his father's religious duties. A Prince-Priest, Elign was obligated to dictate the words of Monarchism to his children. Heron embrace the theology with open arms, becoming a Robed Sword soon afterwards. Saewine, however, was not so easily swayed. He kept his wits about him as the Monarch's Law was pushed onto him. While openly, he admitted he believed, he always held a bit of doubt in his heart and as such, took it lightly.
For as his father once said. “ The Pretender will lead you from the true Monarch. Toss not your Monarch aside, neither your King. For both will hold you dear. If you do, flames will lick your bones clean.”
Frightening as it may have been, Saewine quite easily found a balance between life and Monarchism. Years passed without incident, and life—besides the occasional death threat from political rivals—was peaceful. That was until orders from the King reached the Bloodworth Keep. They had been in service to the Kings of Broacien for generations. So it was only natural that they were to send a son to the Black Shields. Heron was to be sent, for he was no slouch with a blade and had already proven his worth in battle. However, he was not fated to go. For on some cobblestone street, drenched by rain and covered in mud, his corpse laid, dotted with arrows. Eyes open but empty.
When news reached them, a great cloud hung over the once bright Keep. Things were quiet. Unusually so. Dinners had become filled with unspoken curses, conversations, and arguments. Eventually, Elign told Saewine he was to go in his brother's steed to Rot Donar. Fearful for his life, Saewine argued that they'd be sending him to the grave. He had no training, he was not gifted with a sword or saddle like Heron. Unrelenting, Elign silenced the boy with a furious punch and demanded that he pack his things, for come morn, he would depart to Rot Donar.
Needless to say, Saewine tried to runaway that night. He was unfortunately captured by the Keep guards and tied to a pole in the Courtyard to await for departure. When the first lights of the sun woke him, he was met with his father's icy eyes. Somberly he explained that he packed the family's armor for him. Saewine pleaded once again. It went unheeded, only met with scriptures from the The Monarch's Law.
“ So you'd send me to die just like, Heron! You'd send me to perish too, Father!?”
The graying man silently walked away, a sadness that he refused to act on in his eyes. As they untied him—and kept him contained—he had expected to see his mother but she never showed. Instead, he was guided to a horse and alongside his watchers, cantered towards Rot Donar.
To die.
【Dreams, short term goals, and fears.】
Before being sent off towards Rot Donar, he once dreamed of simply living well. To have a beautiful wife with a beautiful child. He did not wish for power but he did for security. Now that events have wrenched his life apart, now he dreams of what he once had.
His short-term goals are simple: To live through his first battle.
His fears are directly related to joining the Black Shields. He knows that the battlefield is ruthless. It took the life of his elder brother, who had trained most of his life in the art. Saewine fears dying like most men but he also has an acute fear of wolves.
His short-term goals are simple: To live through his first battle.
His fears are directly related to joining the Black Shields. He knows that the battlefield is ruthless. It took the life of his elder brother, who had trained most of his life in the art. Saewine fears dying like most men but he also has an acute fear of wolves.
【Skills】
Though of noble birth, it should be noted that amongst warriors and soldiers, his ability to bland in is exceptional. He can go unnoticed for hours if he so chooses. Its also been stated several times that he walks with silence, something akin to cotton on his soles. Along with these, he's a quick learner, when he puts his mind to it. If frazzled with confusion or emotions, its takes him a minute. Though not exactly a skill, he's listens intently to those that need it.
【Martial prowess】
He's a scrambler at best. He's only picked up a sword to hand it to his brother and never before swung one seriously. In defending himself, he's quite capable of running in the opposite direction. And when cornered, its amazing how quick he can spot a opening and dodge.
【Combat style】
None.
【Weaponry】
His father has left him with the family weaponry. His grudge against him however has kept him from laying a finger on it. In a dark blue sheathe is a steel one-handed sword polished and gleaming, its silver cross-guard is accentuated with gold and curves slightly towards the blade. The hilt is like-wise made of solid material but is wrapped in black leather. The pommel is perhaps the most exquisite part, for a perfectly cut ruby is placed therein. A shield is apart of the set. A gleaming plate of steel for the most part but it similarly matches the blade with dark blues and golds. The symbol of the Bloodworth family: A great bird with its wings flared in a sideward position is etched in the center.
For now, a small dagger rests on his belt. Along with a standard sword from the Black Shields.
For now, a small dagger rests on his belt. Along with a standard sword from the Black Shields.
【Armor】
His ancestor's armor is reminiscent of a pious knight's. A pale blue cape is fastened to the shoulders, falling down his back and flowing inches from the ground, along with a likewise waist cloth that ends at his knees. Dark chain mail can clearly be seen between the pieces of the Bloodworth's sterling legacy.
For now, he wears simple leather pieces, a black tunic, and gray trousers.
For now, he wears simple leather pieces, a black tunic, and gray trousers.