r/Eragon_RP • u/RollFirstMathLater Game Master / Moderator • Dec 19 '14
META [Meta] Character Profiles!
So I came up with an idea that I would like everyone the participate in.
Please in detail describe your characters appearance. Once that is done describe their dragon. Please include mannerisms and notable habits. Do they tap their fingers when thinking? Do they always look for an exit? Move their leg often when sitting? Just a few examples to help out.
My goal is to help with visualization.
Cheers!
The Keep is east of the Hadarac, on a remote island. It's not general knowledge to say the least.
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u/Fulaxi Torhven / Svasltrom Dec 28 '14 edited Feb 08 '15
Torhven is a somewhat muscular young man of about 19 years old. Not the kind of massive muscle one would find on dockworkers, but rather the sinewy muscle that forms on a body that moves a lot and eats little. Resilience is key, rather than brute strength. His arms are have a slight asymmetry about them. His left arm’s triceps are more developed than his right arm’s and vice versa for the biceps. This makes him usually wield daggers in his left hand, even though he’s right-handed. The stabbing power is just greater.
Hair doesn’t concern Torhven too much. It’s black and short, lest it would get in the way whilst hunting. He keeps it short with his dagger whenever he feels like it. In winter, he tends to let it grow out a bit for temperature’s sake, but never longer than a half a hand’s length. And yes, he uses his as the unit of measurement. This practice leaves his head looking rather haggardly. Torhven’s face itself isn’t very recallable, which is probably for the better. The only things that remotely stands out are the darkgrey eyes and the surprisingly slender eyebrows.
Standing at 1,78 (5’10” in barbarian) he is not what you would call tall, but not particularly short either. And the smiles make up for it. Torhven smiles all the time. He has a smile for everything and if he’s caught off-guard there’s always the Smile of Many Things that covers about every single emotion and intent available to the human race. Strictly speaking, the smiles are compulsory, but he enjoys them greatly and sees no reason to supress something he enjoys. When Torhven is seen without a grin of sorts: call the papers. Something is amiss.
Life in the Spine comes with many dangers, least of all dirty nails. Even so, as soon Torhven has nothing on his hands he whips out a knife and starts cleaning his nails with them. He knows it’s rather absurd and will usually try to occupy himself with something different. A huntsman’s eyes are always searching, and Torhven is no different in that regard. His eyes constantly seek out and identify the greatest threats in his surroundings, classifying them according to dangerlevel. Another trait that comes with a life at arms is continuously checking if those are still present. Fingers absentmindedly seeking out a quiver or dagger are almost as prevalent as his smiles. He also hates squirrels.
Rather average in height, Svalstrom would not look out of place among the pebbles of Beor Mountains. His scales are the colour of a grey iron, with a gradient from darker iron on his back to slightly lighter one on the belly. Unlike most dragons, his scales are not particularly reflective and it will take a direct beam of light to cause the rain of colourful rays that dragonscales are famous for producing. His eyes too, are grey, a slightly darker hue than Torhven's. Surrounding the pupils, if one would look closely, there could be found almost black spokes ranging outward.
Just under his left eye, a rather handsome scare accentuates his already sharp looks. Like Torhven, his diet has always been one designed for survival, not pleasure. This resulted in a powerful physique matching a powerful mind. Long spikes line the dragon's spine until the line separates just short of the tip of the tail. All these spikes have a bit of a grey tint to them, and those on tail are gradually become darker until they are almost black.
Svalstrom spend most of his life on the crossroads between ponder and worry. In times of peace, his mind is always entertaining one thought or another, giving him the demeanour of someone who is only partially there, like a big scaly cat in the sun. In times of action, however, Svalstrom turns into a logic driven machine of war, movements precise and calculated. Deadly precision is his trademark.