Post by roan on Apr 3, 2013 18:41:53 GMT -5
Roan Jean Nystrom
[/b], yep so please call me that from now on. i've got 5 birds flying round my head and they don't half get annoying but when you've been around for 17 years you get used to it. have you heard about N/A, 'cause they are right awesome so don't mess with me, 'cause i've read the rules and i say I need more booze.. so read my application yo!?! kthxbi.[/ul][/blockquote][/size]
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FULL NAME!?! - Roan Jean Nystrom
NICK NAMES!?! - None. He's simply Roan.
AGE!?! - 298 years old.
OCCUPATION!?! - Drunk and brawler.
MEMBER GROUP!?! - Dragon
RELIGION!?! - None.
MAGIC!?! - Fire Manipulation
SEXUALITY!?! - Heterosexual.
GENDER!?! - Male
PLAYED BY!?! - Dustin Clare
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LIKES!?! -
DISLIKES!?! -
GOALS!?!
FEARS!?!
STRENGTHS!?!
WEAKNESS!?!
OVERAL!?! Roan is brash, loud, boisterous. He is more destructive than an ox in a pottery store, though it's only mostly his fault. He's just kinda clumsy, what with his extreme bulk and whatnot. He is one of those guys that never doubts his gut, never regrets his decisions, never looks back and always moves towards the nearest tavern. If he has on crutch of any sort, it's his addiction to the booze. He can't get enough of it, despite the fact that it takes an amount that is lethal to humans to even get him tipsy for an hour or two.
In a fight, the man is even louder and more obnoxious. He taunts his opponents openly, poking fun at their skills, or lack thereof. He enjoys fighting more than anything, besides drinking. In fact, he has been known to drink from a wooden keg as he fights. Despite the sheer amount of alcohol he drinks, and the monstrous amount of food he eats, he does not gain a single pound--his dragon metabolism burns all of the energy to keep him in his current form, to keep him cool. With women, he is smooth and charming, though is somewhat demanding at times--never maliciously, but definitely forcefully. When he wants, he usually gets. The thought of children or a wife, even a steady relationship is foreign and laughable in his mind, though not unfeasible.
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EYES!?! A dark, dark brown, so dark that is almost seems to be black. They are as empty and deep as an abyss, and equally scary and awe-inspiring. They show the great power he possess within, being a dragon of 3 centuries.
HAIR!?! - Also a dark brown, pulled back into a ponytail less than a foot long. He generally has it put up and rarely allows it to fall free.
FACE!?! - Strong features to cover an iron jaw, wide and large cheekbones, and overall proud, strong features. His forehead seems a bit large is one were to look for too terribly long, but it does nothing to offset the rugged charm he possesses.
BODY!?! - Extremely well-muscled, a perfect mix of slabs of muscle from physical labor and the sculpted, well-defined pretty-boy muscles. He has, for all intents and purposes, the model body for an elite soldier. He stands at around 8' tall, a giant among men, though only average sized for a dragon.
UNUSUAL!?! - N/A
OVERAL!?! - Roan generally dressed in a rag-tag assortment of leathers, crossing his chest in an X set more towards the right of his chest. In between each piece of leather lies steel, giving more protection. Leather overlaps itself down both of his arms to give extreme protection. A loin-cloth like rag hangs in front and behind from a large, solid-leather belt, with iron set into this part. A similar leather-like arrangement runs down his legs, from thigh to knees. Beneath those are leather boots, with metal covering the toes, ankles, and shins.
MOTHER!?! - Skarla Jixt, Dragon, killed at the age of 1,000.
FATHER!?! - Grotin Nystrom, Dragon, whereabouts unknown.
SIBLINGS!?! - If he has any, he knows not of them.
IMPORTANT!?! - None. As far as he knows, his family is all dead. His father is not family to him.
FINALLY!?! - Roan was born far to the south, over the great seas in a land where Dragons reign supreme. His father was a massive, brute alpha of a dragon who rules over his claimed mountain with obsidian claws, and roaring hot flames. He suffered no slight and had the blood of many a dragon dripped from his claws. His very own mother was not a willing mate, but one offered by another group of dragons to hold off his fury.
Roan was not raised by his father, nor did he often see him. He was more of a patrol-the-area-then-go-and-kill-then-go-mate kind of dragon, so he was often gone from the mountains for days at a time. Born from an obsidian-colored father and a chocolate-colored mother made Roan's scales a deep brown, like that of an ancient tree. He grew quickly, with his mother teaching him the basics that all Dragons should know; hunting, fishing, controlling his flames both in Dragon and human form. She told him tales at night of a land far to the north, across the great sea, where Dragons still roamed. She told him that he could escape to this wonderland if he so chose and be safe from the clutches of his father. The obsidian dragon was too large to fly for any great length of time. He was quickly growing into a powerful young Dragon, perhaps a rival to even his father someday. However, around the age of 30 he returned to his mountain cave and found his mother, dead, and tore apart. There was no doubt as to who did this; it had to be his father. No one else would dare even approach the land.
With tears in his eyes, the young Roan flew away from the land, across the great sea. He was absolutely sure that none could follow him, for even he had to relax in the ocean several times to cool off and rest. Once there, he lived in the forests for years to come, hunting and simply... Surviving. After a few hundred years of steadily exploring the land and meeting various races--he enjoyed the Giants, disdained the Undine, felt a sort of kinship with the Shapeshifters, and loved the humans--he moved to become a mercenary in human cities, moving from one to another every few months. He found that he sincerely enjoyed alcohol and soon become hopelessly addicted, though it did not truly get him inebriated unless he drank many kegs of the liquid. Even then, it would last not but an hour--even so, it was more than enough to numb the hidden pain inside, and allow him to have a good time.
so all lyrics used are credited too PARAMORE, thee best female fronted band in the world. everything else is credited to rawr_dinosaur at caution. don't steal this template or take the credit off, if you do i shall be forced to come and pull your eyes out with a spork!?! 'cause you know you love sporks!?! and they are the best extracting eyeballs.
