Moon-son, Syral

Description: GREEN TO GRAY WARLORD PRINCE | JONES

Syral Moon-son

    Green to Gray
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    Moon King
    Glacia Kaeleer
    12 Posts    0 marks
Moon-son, Syral
« on: May 26, 2019, 04:41:43 PM »
    Syral


    The Basics


    Full Name: Syral Moon-son
    Age: 175
    Gender/Pronouns: Male he/him

    Ethnicity: An Corithe
    Birthplace: Glacia
    Current Location: Glacia
    Profession: Nukti Chieftain

    Caste: Warlord Prince
    Birthright Jewel: Green (CUT 61)
    Offering Jewel: Gray (CUT 92)

    Face Claim: Dusan Susnjar


    The Body


    Height: 6'2
    Body Type: Masterpiece
    Hair Color: Black
    Eye Color: white amber

    Appearance:
    Broad shoulders. Broad chest. Broad legs. Good for swimming and fighting and carrying women to bed. Strong off the fruits of the ocean Syral is the strength of the tribe with the speed of the pack. He kills first, so he eats first, and he eats well. Gray a boon to his body rather than a drain. Hard winters with bad neighbors take their toll quickly, but he bounces back with a fervor every summer.

    He is a cutting smile full of sharp teeth. Fur or no fur. A gleam in the eye that promises he will not hesitate to snap. A god among the landen that make up half his tribe. A king among the An Corithe that compose the rest. A nightmare to the seabeasts that have tried to steal their ancestral lands. In his second skin he is as white an isybyr and not much smaller. Camouflaged terror fighting for what was his not so long ago.


    The Mind


    Craft Strengths: 15pts + 8pts from shop

    Weapon Empowerment
    Physical Sheilds
    Heating/Cooling
    Physical Enhancement
    Swift Shifter
    Craft Weaknesses: Psychic shields, weapon empowerment, telekinetic hold

    Personality:
    Blunt, decisive, tactical and capable of detachment from his own emotions. Syral is many things. Few of them nice, but all with reasoning as deep as the sea.

    You cannot be raised as a legend among men without growing an ego. It is the cost of playing the hero. Of being An Corithe beside Blood and landen tribesmen.Allowed only because the Nukti do not live by the standards of others. Secrecy was in their roots. Ancient traditions passed down grandfather to grandson that allowed them live mostly at peace with the world around them. Away from the ship flying Firarlith peoples that claimed the land as their own. It united the wolfmen and the tribesmen. Who both knew that the land was a wild living thing that could not be possessed.

    The things that walk among it, though, oh they are ripe for claiming. The son of a warlord prince he learned early on how to stake a claim and defend it. Learned too that it was the most cunning, and not always the strongest, that won. A baby crying for time on the breast received it before his father. But a father with food to offer the mother could steal kisses while the babe was hushed. Strongest, smartest, most useful. Be that man, then the people and things you want most will come to you naturally.

    Chief is not an easy mantle to wear, though, even with the Gray to help hold it up. Leader of the tribe, he must protect and provide. Make the hard choices when winter is lean and the children too many for feeding. Presiding over all while simpering for the pack leader. It is a very complex social life that he struggles to maintain in a society that will not accept failure. Expectation weighty, forcing ability to blossom early. Then belief in those abilities buoying them up until you must be reminded often where the line between reality and fantasy lies.


    The Backstory


    Family:
     Deceased
    • Yaari | Father | Yellow to Summer-sky Warlord Prince
    • Ane | Mother | Tiger-eye to Rose Priestess

    Living
    • OPEN | Sister | Green to Red Caste
    • Idony Moon-sister | Sister | Rose to Purple Dusk Caste
    several landen and blood children deceased from old age by now[/list]

    History:
    A warm winter saw fewer babies born in the summer than typical. It brought fish to their shores and caribou to their plains. Born to a holy woman and a Moon Warrior he was a much applauded birth. A fat infant that only grew fatter on the breast he refused to give up. When his mother denied him he cried at other mothers until they took pity. Suckled well until his fifth birthday when his father had enough and threatened to lop the tit off every tribeswoman if they did not wean the brat. He was a rambunctious, self serving child who needed taught hard lessons. Tossed out into the snow a mile from home to see that life was cold if you didn't have the tribe to keep you warm. The women had to be respected, the men listened to. Everyone had their place and if he wanted a better one, he would have to be a better boy.

    Syral did not fail the learning. He found his way home with a keen nose that was blue on the tip by the time he was sat before the fire. Then he found useful things to do so that he would never be out in the cold again. Kindling piled up and delivered to the old people that could not carry it anymore. Baskets hauled for the fishermen, or nets untangled. TFirst drops of unschooled craft honed on scraping the fur from seal skins being cured. Useful Syral! And favored for it. Petted by the women, less often chased away from little girls by their fathers. Allowed to sit at the knee of his own when the men gathered near the fire to eat their days victories.

    At 12 his mother thought him ready for his Birthright. She took him to the sacred caves of ice. Light reflecting into a thousand colors, but only one his to keep. A shimmering Green darker than the Great Spirits that danced across the heavens at night. The tribe rejoiced. And his father drew him closer to his heart. A son of his own Blood that would wear a second skin as he did. They would be a fine pair. His parents celebrated well into the dawn, long after Syral's first tastes of fermented caribou milk had put him to bed. The evidence in a baby sister some months later.

    She was the focal point of his life, that tiny baby. Strapped his to young back as often as she was to their mother. Guarded with sharp teeth and hard words when she was big enough to explore on her own. Forcing the men to drag him away for training when he just wanted to follow her tiny tracks through the village. But he had not forgotten the cold. So he went to learn to be more useful. Was petted twice as much as he grew into a leanness that the landen girls cooed over. Soon, they all said, he would be a Moon Warrior. Part of the pack. A society within their society. Soldiers that kept everyone safe while they slept and the real wolves and isbyrs prowled.

    It came at night. Like an ache in his bones. Fever off and on for hours. Mother fretting, but she had  not inherited the change herself despite a long lineage of wolf kin. As his skin sprouted fur and his bones melted away it was the steady conversation of his father that helped him through the pain. Talking about the things they would do and see when he could keep up. Four paws much faster than two clunking feet. Stories that they made true in the years that passed after. Until his father was made a memory by the brute Clout. A great white isbyr kindred who harried their Moon Warriors for decades. That lose felt like a weight he would never overcome. But it was just the first of several.

    Pack brothers fell, his mother died bringing into the world a sister born of her second husband, their Chief fell into an ice flow and never returned, the landen girls he had played with were old women with grandsons that matched him in height. He became a man. Then he was tried by fire. Locked in the sauna to meditate over the Abyss. Reaching into hot coals to pull out his worth. Gray the color of fresh ash in his palm when he emerged triumphant. That fearsome might carved open the heart of  pretty Blood girl that gave him a son- but they only grew old and died. Five in total- children whose children whisper to their friends that he sired their line. Afraid to reach for a grandfather who is more myth than man in their short lived eyes. Time just marched on in and around him as the tribe moving slowly across their peninsula. Fighting back bears, walrus, other wolves, and warring tribes too. Syral as their hero. As their Chief. Conquering all foes.

    But no enemy could have prepared them for the Rookery. Faces that looked like regular Blood lost on a journey. 'Let them rest before they move on.' He reasoned, rather than attacking those that encroached on tribal lands. There was no moving on though. They build houses! Not even a stone's throw from his house! Never mind that his was easy to move. The migration of his people was a short one. Against the bluffs in winter, onto the coast in summer. They could not have it, these outsiders. The sea was their lifeblood. Talks were attempted, but their stubborn queen could not listen. And Syral would not bend. If they would not be his people, then they were the enemies of his people.

    So they fight. Over and over and over. And maybe they'll never stop.


    The Writer


    Player Name: Jones
    Player Pronouns: She/Her
    Timezone: CST
    Contact: Discord or PM
    How did you find us?: RPG-D

    Inactivity Instructions: You can archive my brain babies and write them out in whatever way keep the plot going, just avoid killing them unless its absolutely necessary.

    Roleplay Sample:
    See Eloise

    The Darkness

    • Staff
    • Red to Black

    • 0 Posts    9999789268 marks
    Re: Syral/Kintey/Saaryn
    « Reply #1 on: May 26, 2019, 04:45:40 PM »
    The Darkness has granted you...
    Green
    Cut 61
    to
    Gray
    Cut 92

    or

    The Darkness has granted you...
    Sapphire
    Cut 58
    to
    Gray
    Cut 65



    As requested, FOUR family rolls:
    1: Rose to Purple Dusk
    2: Green to Red
    3: Yellow to Summer-sky
    4: Tiger Eye to Rose
     What’s better than one shiny? Why, three shinies, of course!	   How nice! This item allows you to re-roll the Jewels on one character sheet for free.   How nice! This item allows you to re-roll the Jewels on one character sheet for free.   How nice! This item allows you to re-roll the Jewels on one character sheet for free.   How nice! This item allows you to re-roll the Jewels on one character sheet for free.   A fancy certificate awarded to those noble writers who finish what they start. Redeem it to get a bonus of 10% more marks for a completed thread.   A fancy certificate awarded to those noble writers who finish what they start. Redeem it to get a bonus of 20% more marks for a completed thread.   A fancy certificate awarded to those noble writers who finish what they start. Redeem it to get a bonus of 20% more marks for a completed thread.   What’s better than one shiny? Why, three shinies, of course!	   What’s better than one shiny? Why, three shinies, of course!	   Wow, it's really heavy!  

    The Darkness

    • Staff
    • Red to Black

    • 0 Posts    9999789268 marks
    Re: Moon-son, Syral
    « Reply #2 on: May 27, 2019, 12:26:52 AM »
    Approved
     What’s better than one shiny? Why, three shinies, of course!	   How nice! This item allows you to re-roll the Jewels on one character sheet for free.   How nice! This item allows you to re-roll the Jewels on one character sheet for free.   How nice! This item allows you to re-roll the Jewels on one character sheet for free.   How nice! This item allows you to re-roll the Jewels on one character sheet for free.   A fancy certificate awarded to those noble writers who finish what they start. Redeem it to get a bonus of 10% more marks for a completed thread.   A fancy certificate awarded to those noble writers who finish what they start. Redeem it to get a bonus of 20% more marks for a completed thread.   A fancy certificate awarded to those noble writers who finish what they start. Redeem it to get a bonus of 20% more marks for a completed thread.   What’s better than one shiny? Why, three shinies, of course!	   What’s better than one shiny? Why, three shinies, of course!	   Wow, it's really heavy!  
     

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