Post by Marnark’tranarprol on Aug 23, 2009 19:23:23 GMT -5
Name: Honam
Age: 18
Gender:Male
Sexuality: Het
Rank: Candidate
Appearance:
Sandy blonde-tan locks fall messily to Honam's shoulders, no two strands the same length. The strands are vaguely darker toward the roots, but sunbleach out quickly to the uneven sandy blonde look as it goes toward the tips. His eyebrows resolutely stay darker than his hair does, somehow, shadowing over his sparkling, mischievous eyes. A light brown in color, his eyes are lightly striated with pale green directly around the pupil. But this discrepancy of color can only be seen in very up close and personal spaces, otherwise they just look vaguely light brown. A strong nose is prominent on his face, above an often quirked in mirth mouth. Often times he goes days without shaving, so it is not unusual to see a shadow of a beard on the youth, though it does not quite connect in all places yet. It will fill in, in time.
Somewhat tall already, Honam has a light, springy build and light muscling that makes him quite athletic and fast. He has his bulges and are proud of them, after a fashion (not like some males can be), but they are not the rock solid or whipcord ones that people in hard crafts can develop. Somewhere between the two, he is nicely filled out. He tends to wear loose clothing that allows for easy movement in any random direction. While his trousers always fit well at the waist, his shirts sometimes manage to get unfastened and stay that way … he really doesn't care how he looks. Thus the rumpled charm. He is almost always fairly clean, however, as he is a firm believer in regular baths… or at least swimming! Yeah … swimming …
He's got a strange looking hollow on his left forearm, where his browned skin seems stretched over a spot where there is no muscle. What it is, is just that - a semi-hollow spot where once upon a time there used to be meat. But an unfortunate accident ripped a piece of that muscle out. The skin healed with almost no mark, but the muscle has never filled back in. That arm and hand still works just fine, but it isn't quite up to strength on par with the other hand.
Personality: Honam is a free spirit that no one has managed to tame yet. Life is good, and he's living it! Originally from some obscure location north of the sea, his wandering bone has carried him far in life … sometimes physically, sometimes in other ways. He loves to get into things and all around make a general fool of himself. He doesn't care … so long as it's fun.
While he does not really like to do things like drink, he does love frivolity. Dancing especially is something he loves to do, and he will … with any lass that is interested. He can and sometimes does dance the night away any time there is music to be danced to. Honam is a very physical person … he has no problems with touching people, or getting into things. Climbing a mountain rock face, exploring a cave, skinny dipping in a river, catching and riding a wild runner until it simply can't go anymore … if it's exciting or interesting or fun, he'll do it! Full of energy, very little will slow Honam down. He dislikes standing still and gabbing all day, or moping around. Or simply sitting … sitting is boring! But when he does wind down, he sleeps like a dead thing, as if the rest of the world suddenly stops and there is nothing to miss.
With Honam, it's live every day like it was your last. Take it by the horns and go for it … after all, what have you got to lose?
He loves to interact with other people every time he encounters them, though sometimes he can be put off and will walk away if a certain person is too much of an opposite to him. Griping, groaning, moaning and complaining is something that he just can't comprehend, much less tolerate. After all … tomorrow always comes, the sky is always still blue, the flowers still bloom every spring. What is there to complain about?
Honam has no issues with who and what he is, or his status in life. However most people see him and have a vastly different opinion. He is, after all, a holdless, illegitimate, unreliable, craftless, wandering rogue of a lad. He is most definitely the sort that most Holders do their level best to keep away from their daughters.
History: Honam does not know it, but his father was a Lord. The unwanted and unknown (not even the Lord knows) son of a Lord, Honam was raised solely by his mother and his widowed grandmother in a simple household that merely did what they had to, to get by. There was nothing special about any of it. Being little more than, or really nothing more than, a drudge in the Hold, his mother toiled away days, and sometimes nights as well, to provide for her son and mother. Honam's grandmother watched the lad as she worked, unable to really do much of anything else as a crippling disease had ravaged her body before Honam had been born.
Coming from such a low family, Honam never bothered to apprentice to a craft. Not that it occurred to him, either. Life was as life was. In severe danger of becoming a drudge himself, Honam did not even realize. His mother did, however, aware that such a life would break his spirit. So full of life, as a young boy, Honam was always poking into things, exploring, getting just as muddy as any other lad could possibly manage. And more or less running free upon the thread-free countryside, getting into everything. Finally, his mother decided that it was time to do something about him … though she was not sure what, exactly, to do. She did not want to see him trapped into becoming just another menial worker in the Hold. He seemed to have potential for so very much more than that.
That, and she really did not want him getting found out … the more the boy matured into a young man, the more he began to resemble his father. And while she knew who his father was, she did not want anyone else to know, for her own reasons. Either the man who had sired Honam, or Honam himself. It was too much of a difference, between the lives of them. She did not want to create bitterness in Honam, nor did she wish to irk the Lord's ire. Which might result in some rather dreadful things to her small family.
So in the end, when her mother's health was finally failing to the last, she sent Honam off to go find her Uncle. She didn't have an Uncle, but that was beside the point … she just wanted Honam to go, and get away while he still could. Before awkward questions could be raised concerning the boy within the Hold. So, it was with no name, no idea who he was looking for, as a lad of only sixteen turns, Honam headed off into the wild blue yonder with nothing more than a knapsack and a country sense very few other people possessed. All on the theory of finding an Uncle and telling him of his grandmother's failing health.
Turns passed, many miles covered. Sometimes aboard a wagon or sneakily hopped upon wild runner, but mostly on his own two feet, Honam wore out many a pair of shoes. He saw everything there was to see that a lad could find to see. Quite a few Holds that he really had no idea which was which, and all the country side in between. Wide open plains, deep dark forests with tangled brush, cave pocked cliffs, crashing seas beneath sheer drops of stone, rushing rivers and gloriously tall mountains. He trod on it all, never getting down and quite a bit excited to travel the world as he was.
At one point, while catching a ride in the back of a tithe wagon that was bearing huge kegs, a bit more excitement than he was prepared for happened. The rear axle broke after one too many potholes in the dirt track of a road, dropping the back end a few inches. That heavy blow of the heavy kegs falling was all it took for one of the back two wheels to also break down and collapse. This shifted the load even further at the same time that the three draftrunners hitched to the wagon freaked out at the crashing noise. The animals took off, helping the kegs to shift even farther back on the slanted surface. Having been sitting on the back edge of the wagon, Honam's feet bounced off the ground at first, straining both knees. He grabbed at the side of the wagon, only to have it shatter just as he did. Before he could get away from the edge, the nearest keg toppled over on top of him, smashing his arm down onto the ragged wood of the cart. A shaft of splintered wood punched through the meat of his forearm, before the keg continued to roll onto him, squashing him and forcing him out of the wagon. Naturally, this ripped out the chunk of his arm, before he and three of the kegs were flung from the runaway busted wagon.
The driver managed to get the wagon stopped, and the other members of the wagon train helped to patch up Honam, the horses (for two of them had sprained their legs), and the wagon. The muscle that had been ripped out never did heal properly, though the skin healed up marvelously well. To this day, his arm is still a tad hollow in that spot, though the Healer that looked at it thought it would fill in, in time. Granted ... it would take some twenty Turns to do it.
And then he encountered the ocean! What a marvelous thing to behold! After several months of skirting the ocean on the beaches and eating well of eggs buried in the sand (but not flitter eggs), he began to realize that he had not found a huge lake … but something by far more vast and powerful than that. After three days holed up in a cave in a cliff during a seagoing storm crashing around, he decided to find out more about it. When the water receded, the youth made his way to the nearest seahold. There, he was told of just what the ocean was … and that there was a wild and untamed whole continent on the other side. So, working his way across the ocean on a ship, Honam started anew … wandering the lush jungles and winding rivers of the South.
Finding his mysterious Uncle did not weigh heavy on his mind … either he found him or he didn't. It didn't really matter. Life happened one day at a time. Besides … how in the world was he ever supposed to know how to find his way home, anyway? He didn't even know where he'd come from. Home was where the heart is, and his heart was always there with him.
Living and traveling as he has, he is a very good person at simply surviving. He can hunt, shape things of rawhide if need be (up to and including new moccasin-style shoes), he knows what plants can be eaten, when, and how … and he is not afraid of anything!
Age: 18
Gender:Male
Sexuality: Het
Rank: Candidate
Appearance:
Sandy blonde-tan locks fall messily to Honam's shoulders, no two strands the same length. The strands are vaguely darker toward the roots, but sunbleach out quickly to the uneven sandy blonde look as it goes toward the tips. His eyebrows resolutely stay darker than his hair does, somehow, shadowing over his sparkling, mischievous eyes. A light brown in color, his eyes are lightly striated with pale green directly around the pupil. But this discrepancy of color can only be seen in very up close and personal spaces, otherwise they just look vaguely light brown. A strong nose is prominent on his face, above an often quirked in mirth mouth. Often times he goes days without shaving, so it is not unusual to see a shadow of a beard on the youth, though it does not quite connect in all places yet. It will fill in, in time.
Somewhat tall already, Honam has a light, springy build and light muscling that makes him quite athletic and fast. He has his bulges and are proud of them, after a fashion (not like some males can be), but they are not the rock solid or whipcord ones that people in hard crafts can develop. Somewhere between the two, he is nicely filled out. He tends to wear loose clothing that allows for easy movement in any random direction. While his trousers always fit well at the waist, his shirts sometimes manage to get unfastened and stay that way … he really doesn't care how he looks. Thus the rumpled charm. He is almost always fairly clean, however, as he is a firm believer in regular baths… or at least swimming! Yeah … swimming …
He's got a strange looking hollow on his left forearm, where his browned skin seems stretched over a spot where there is no muscle. What it is, is just that - a semi-hollow spot where once upon a time there used to be meat. But an unfortunate accident ripped a piece of that muscle out. The skin healed with almost no mark, but the muscle has never filled back in. That arm and hand still works just fine, but it isn't quite up to strength on par with the other hand.
Personality: Honam is a free spirit that no one has managed to tame yet. Life is good, and he's living it! Originally from some obscure location north of the sea, his wandering bone has carried him far in life … sometimes physically, sometimes in other ways. He loves to get into things and all around make a general fool of himself. He doesn't care … so long as it's fun.
While he does not really like to do things like drink, he does love frivolity. Dancing especially is something he loves to do, and he will … with any lass that is interested. He can and sometimes does dance the night away any time there is music to be danced to. Honam is a very physical person … he has no problems with touching people, or getting into things. Climbing a mountain rock face, exploring a cave, skinny dipping in a river, catching and riding a wild runner until it simply can't go anymore … if it's exciting or interesting or fun, he'll do it! Full of energy, very little will slow Honam down. He dislikes standing still and gabbing all day, or moping around. Or simply sitting … sitting is boring! But when he does wind down, he sleeps like a dead thing, as if the rest of the world suddenly stops and there is nothing to miss.
With Honam, it's live every day like it was your last. Take it by the horns and go for it … after all, what have you got to lose?
He loves to interact with other people every time he encounters them, though sometimes he can be put off and will walk away if a certain person is too much of an opposite to him. Griping, groaning, moaning and complaining is something that he just can't comprehend, much less tolerate. After all … tomorrow always comes, the sky is always still blue, the flowers still bloom every spring. What is there to complain about?
Honam has no issues with who and what he is, or his status in life. However most people see him and have a vastly different opinion. He is, after all, a holdless, illegitimate, unreliable, craftless, wandering rogue of a lad. He is most definitely the sort that most Holders do their level best to keep away from their daughters.
History: Honam does not know it, but his father was a Lord. The unwanted and unknown (not even the Lord knows) son of a Lord, Honam was raised solely by his mother and his widowed grandmother in a simple household that merely did what they had to, to get by. There was nothing special about any of it. Being little more than, or really nothing more than, a drudge in the Hold, his mother toiled away days, and sometimes nights as well, to provide for her son and mother. Honam's grandmother watched the lad as she worked, unable to really do much of anything else as a crippling disease had ravaged her body before Honam had been born.
Coming from such a low family, Honam never bothered to apprentice to a craft. Not that it occurred to him, either. Life was as life was. In severe danger of becoming a drudge himself, Honam did not even realize. His mother did, however, aware that such a life would break his spirit. So full of life, as a young boy, Honam was always poking into things, exploring, getting just as muddy as any other lad could possibly manage. And more or less running free upon the thread-free countryside, getting into everything. Finally, his mother decided that it was time to do something about him … though she was not sure what, exactly, to do. She did not want to see him trapped into becoming just another menial worker in the Hold. He seemed to have potential for so very much more than that.
That, and she really did not want him getting found out … the more the boy matured into a young man, the more he began to resemble his father. And while she knew who his father was, she did not want anyone else to know, for her own reasons. Either the man who had sired Honam, or Honam himself. It was too much of a difference, between the lives of them. She did not want to create bitterness in Honam, nor did she wish to irk the Lord's ire. Which might result in some rather dreadful things to her small family.
So in the end, when her mother's health was finally failing to the last, she sent Honam off to go find her Uncle. She didn't have an Uncle, but that was beside the point … she just wanted Honam to go, and get away while he still could. Before awkward questions could be raised concerning the boy within the Hold. So, it was with no name, no idea who he was looking for, as a lad of only sixteen turns, Honam headed off into the wild blue yonder with nothing more than a knapsack and a country sense very few other people possessed. All on the theory of finding an Uncle and telling him of his grandmother's failing health.
Turns passed, many miles covered. Sometimes aboard a wagon or sneakily hopped upon wild runner, but mostly on his own two feet, Honam wore out many a pair of shoes. He saw everything there was to see that a lad could find to see. Quite a few Holds that he really had no idea which was which, and all the country side in between. Wide open plains, deep dark forests with tangled brush, cave pocked cliffs, crashing seas beneath sheer drops of stone, rushing rivers and gloriously tall mountains. He trod on it all, never getting down and quite a bit excited to travel the world as he was.
At one point, while catching a ride in the back of a tithe wagon that was bearing huge kegs, a bit more excitement than he was prepared for happened. The rear axle broke after one too many potholes in the dirt track of a road, dropping the back end a few inches. That heavy blow of the heavy kegs falling was all it took for one of the back two wheels to also break down and collapse. This shifted the load even further at the same time that the three draftrunners hitched to the wagon freaked out at the crashing noise. The animals took off, helping the kegs to shift even farther back on the slanted surface. Having been sitting on the back edge of the wagon, Honam's feet bounced off the ground at first, straining both knees. He grabbed at the side of the wagon, only to have it shatter just as he did. Before he could get away from the edge, the nearest keg toppled over on top of him, smashing his arm down onto the ragged wood of the cart. A shaft of splintered wood punched through the meat of his forearm, before the keg continued to roll onto him, squashing him and forcing him out of the wagon. Naturally, this ripped out the chunk of his arm, before he and three of the kegs were flung from the runaway busted wagon.
The driver managed to get the wagon stopped, and the other members of the wagon train helped to patch up Honam, the horses (for two of them had sprained their legs), and the wagon. The muscle that had been ripped out never did heal properly, though the skin healed up marvelously well. To this day, his arm is still a tad hollow in that spot, though the Healer that looked at it thought it would fill in, in time. Granted ... it would take some twenty Turns to do it.
And then he encountered the ocean! What a marvelous thing to behold! After several months of skirting the ocean on the beaches and eating well of eggs buried in the sand (but not flitter eggs), he began to realize that he had not found a huge lake … but something by far more vast and powerful than that. After three days holed up in a cave in a cliff during a seagoing storm crashing around, he decided to find out more about it. When the water receded, the youth made his way to the nearest seahold. There, he was told of just what the ocean was … and that there was a wild and untamed whole continent on the other side. So, working his way across the ocean on a ship, Honam started anew … wandering the lush jungles and winding rivers of the South.
Finding his mysterious Uncle did not weigh heavy on his mind … either he found him or he didn't. It didn't really matter. Life happened one day at a time. Besides … how in the world was he ever supposed to know how to find his way home, anyway? He didn't even know where he'd come from. Home was where the heart is, and his heart was always there with him.
Living and traveling as he has, he is a very good person at simply surviving. He can hunt, shape things of rawhide if need be (up to and including new moccasin-style shoes), he knows what plants can be eaten, when, and how … and he is not afraid of anything!
I will tinker with it a bit. Thanks!