Post by Benny on May 31, 2010 22:57:24 GMT -5
And here I dreamt I was a soldier
And I marched the streets of birkenau
And I recall in spring
The perfume that the air would bring
To the indolent town
Where the barkers call the moon down
The carnival was ringing loudly now
And just to lay with you
There's nothing that I wouldn't do
Save lay my rifle down
And try one, and try two
Guess it always comes down to
Alright, it's okay, guess it's better to turn this way
But I won, so you lose
Guess it always comes down to -
And I marched the streets of birkenau
And I recall in spring
The perfume that the air would bring
To the indolent town
Where the barkers call the moon down
The carnival was ringing loudly now
And just to lay with you
There's nothing that I wouldn't do
Save lay my rifle down
And try one, and try two
Guess it always comes down to
Alright, it's okay, guess it's better to turn this way
But I won, so you lose
Guess it always comes down to -
Name: Aleksandrovsk (no surname given?)
Alias: Anglicized to Alexandros, given the surname 'Grey.' Goes by Durandal.
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Occupation: Formerly served as a military officer in the Sideris Zeppelin corps. An ex-soldier turned all around jack of all trades; ranger, mercenary, thug, assassin, guide. Anything for a price.
Allegiance: Once, so long ago… but the world has moved on since then.
Height: 6'3''
Weight: 176 lbs
Magical Abilities: None worth noting.
Hometown → Northern Kingdom of Sideris
Father → Baldr Grey
Mother → Freyja Grey
Siblings →
Children →
and I am nothing of a builder
But here I dreamt I was an architect
And I built this balustrade
To keep you home, to keep you safe
From the outside world
But the angles and the corners
Even though my work is unparalleled
They never seemed to meet
This structure fell about our feet
And we were free to go
But here I dreamt I was an architect
And I built this balustrade
To keep you home, to keep you safe
From the outside world
But the angles and the corners
Even though my work is unparalleled
They never seemed to meet
This structure fell about our feet
And we were free to go
Appearance: Solid, muscular, intimidating and tall with considerably broad shoulders. Not quite a mack truck, but generously muscled enough to make anyone sober think twice about starting a barfight with him. Looks lean and dangerous and moves with a natural predator's grace, like a tiger waiting to strike.
A vagrant through and through, with a haggard face and a usually unkind expression. Brilliant light green-gold eyes, severely crooked and rather large nose, angry brows, stout chin and a bit long in the face. Dark black and lengthy hair that frames his face in a ragged way, not quite overlong but maybe reaching his jawline.
As for dress, Alex's clothes are nothing much to look at. Typical ranger garb that's seen far too many years of a hard living and far too few nights of relaxation.
Accessories: A long-sword sheathed at the hip, of excellent craftsmanship, make and weighted specifically to his hand. It goes by the name "Castiel."
Theme song(s): Here I Dreamt I Was an Architect by The Decemberists; Cannonball by Damien Rice; Walls of Jericho by Fair to Midland and Red Right Hand by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.
Personality:
- Loner, natural introvert, keeps his distance from others so as to protect his “fragile core” – his wavering, sentimental inner half.
- For the most part bitter and cynical, too used to seeing men bleed and die.
- Sarcastic; dry, black sense of humor.
- Hides behind a wall.
- Comes off as callous; a job is a job, and he’s been desensitized to acts of violence, to sentimental attachments.
- Empathetic, can be a good man beneath his front.
- Renegade, a rebel, hell-bent conviction.
- Gets fidgety when he's in one place for too long; inbred wanderlust.
- Haunted by his time as a soldier, by the people he’s left behind, friends he’s watched die – by the thing’s he’s done.
- The kind of man who'd straighten crooked picture frames in a hotel room.
- Not a natural-born leader, but perhaps it's this trait that makes men follow in his stead - that instead of embracing it, he doubts it, and thus holds some air of basic humanity beyond cold tactics and brutality.
Miscellaneous:
- Left-handed.
- Excellent swordsman, terrible, terrible archer.
- Branded on the inside of his right wrist and upper left back with a cattle-brand, looks like a stylized eagle with the clear text of a family name right below it.
- A bit of a "foreigner", carries a light, barely traceable accent that sounds similar to German.
- Outlaw by name, "I don't give a shit" by nature. Wanted for desertion and high treason.
History:
- Born up in the Northern region of Sideris.
- Grew up under the belt of hard labour, isolation, and old-world beliefs.
- Sold into the 'military' as a boy of twelve. Given a less foreign sounding name, papers, etc.
- Served as an airship soldier for a vast majority of his militia time, and somehow survived this.
- Made a few "friends" but held the world at arm's length, although even the most talkative men drifted away in time, as Alex was grim and distant even as a teenager and young adult. Later singled out by the manipulative son of a Lord with highly ambitious plans and insufferable pride - it was mostly a one-sided friendship.
- Soldier for nearly twenty years.
- Framed in an overly elaborate set-up as a savage, errant soldier with plans of regicide - to save the tail of the afore-mentioned Lord's son, whose plans of fratricide had been unveiled, and who then stealthily sidestepped the blame.
- Physically branded a traitor. By the Lord's son. Fucking ow.
- Set upon as hounds to a fox with the intention to be slaughtered outright, although he managed to escape.
- Exile. Posted up as a criminal.
- CONTINUES TO DO SHIT
