Puppet Master: Liza
Character Name: Doric
Character Age: 23
Gender: Male
Rank: Rebel
Hair: Medium brown, the color of deeply toasted bread. He keeps it cut
somewhere between shoulder and chin length so that it's just long enough to tie
up into a horsetail when he doesn’t want to bother with it (which is nearly
always)
Eyes: Dark brown and a just a tad almond shaped.
Build: Slightly taller than average, with most of his height in his legs.
As a teenager he was terribly gawky and heron-like but half a dozen years of
training and lots of food have filled him out and built up some (ok, a lot of)
muscle.
Face: His face is square to oval, with a well defined jaw and broad cheekbones.
His nose is strong and his eyes are wide set under slighted arched eyebrows.
There are a number of small scars from the multitude of nicks and scrapes he's
accumulated over the years and a thin scar cuts through the edge of one of his
eyebrows.
Dress: He's not terribly picky about clothes, as long as he's capable
of moving in them. Mostly, he likes a pair of loose breeches and a tunic. He
prefers sandals to boots, but will wear either without complaint.
His favorite color for clothes is brown.
Personality:Protective to a fault, he has a strong sense of responsibility
that can occasionally be infuriating. For the most part he's a very kind-hearted
person, but highly emotional situations make him *extremely* uncomfortable. This
can often lead him to make insensitive remarks that he later regrets. He also
has trouble showing affection, and for goodness sake, please don't ask him to
talk about his feelings…just don't.
Talents: He's the only real swordsmen in the camp thanks to his noble
upbringing and long hours of practice have made him a formidable opponent when
it comes
to daggers, staves and hand-to-hand fighting. This makes up for his utter horridness
with anything ranged, especially bows. In fact, he has refused to even pick up
a bow for years now and doesn't even own a throwing dagger.
History: Doric actually has two histories. One is a mix of actual events,
carefully edited half-truths and outright fabrications and the other is what
really happened. Only a few people (just Chandri at the moment) know the latter
history, but to save confusion both are being put up on the profiles page.
What he tells everyone: What really happened:
Son of Beneth, a desert chief who seduced a noble woman named Aldema de Cerinthe.
When Aldema realized she was with child, she hastily married the first man
to propose, a fat, aging, but rather rich earl. Within months of their hasty
marriage the husband was stricken with a fatal heart attack, giving Aldema
an excuse to withdraw from courtly life and retreat to a small villa in the
desert. There, only eight months after her engagement she gave birth to Doric.
Doric grew up shielded from the close scrutiny of palace life and was taught
the courtly arts befitting the son of a earl.
When he was sixteen his mother took ill. On what she believed to be her death
bed she told her son of his true father. By the time she recovered Doric was
gone in search of his him.
He arrived at the oasis bruised, battered, thirsty and feverish. His grandmother,
Twyla, healed him and the men took him in as though he were their nephew. He
has spent the last seven years of his life learning to ways of the desert.
After learning of the plight of the slaves he vowed to take his now dead father's
position as rebel leader.
It's true, Doric is the son of Beneth and Aldema, Aldema did marry an ancient
earl who keeled over shortly after their marriage, and Doric did grow up
in a small villa in the desert learning the courtly arts (although he did
often skip his Istrobanian lessons) but after that the story starts to change.
At sixteen, while his mother was in perfect health, Doric realized he had fallen
head over heels in love with his best friend. His best friend, as luck would
have it, returned his affections. Heartwarming, but also problematic as Doric
was supposed to marry in three years and his mother would be less than thrilled
to find that Doric and the miller's redheaded son Ady had been enthusiastically
swapping spit for several months.
When the inevitable eventually happened and Doric and Ady were caught, his
mother leapt into damage control mode. Doric's betrothal was moved up two and
a half
years after several hasty negotiations and Doric was effectively placed under
house arrest. Unable to cope with the idea of being married to someone barely
in her teens Doric fled into the desert.
He arrived at the oasis bruised, battered, thirsty and feverish. His grandmother,
Twyla, healed him and the men took him in as though he were their nephew.
He has spent the last seven years of his life learning about the Rebels
and being beaten to a pulp by the training master, Wyatt (and made into
a better fighter in the process). After learning of the plight of the slaves
he vowed
to take
his
now
dead father's
position as rebel leader.