Post by Guest on Jun 23, 2014 5:31:48 GMT 1
Player Info
Name/Alias:
Gracie
Age:
23
Gender:
Female
Tumblr:
N/A
Timezone:
Mountain
How did you find Palandri?:
It's still Katie's fault.
Character Info
Full Name:
Thomas Quakenbush
Race:
Terramentalist
Class:
Terramentalist
Age:
25
Sexuality :
Asexual (as of right now, maybe change if he can get his brain back together)
Bio:
Thomas Quakenbush started life a child of privilege. Son of Timothy Quakenbush, the handsome and clever young captain who had brought Quakerion victory in battle, and carrying the power of earth in his soul, the boy wanted for nothing. So respected was his father that there were even talks of the boy being matched with a girl from the ruling House, a marriage that was sure to produce many strong and blessed children for the cause. Thomas was to have a future, a chance at power, and what his parents could only hope to be a brilliant military career. And yet, even with such promise, the boy was… different.
Unlike the other children his age, who seemed to feel the very earth rumble through their bodies, Thomas could feel scarcely more than a whisper. The earth seemed to sing to him, a soft lullaby that tingled at the tips of his fingers. It was a gentle, shy creature, his magic, and something that seemed to pale in comparison to the mighty force with which the other boys his age were able to lift and move the earth beneath their feet. Troubled, the both had gone to his father, fearing something to be wrong with his gift. The captain, a kind but stern man, took his son up to the higher level of the city, out to where they could watch the mighty orchard of Quakerion house bask in the light of the afternoon light. “There are many types of earth, my son,” his father had whispered to him. “Rock and stone, yes, but also soil. Deep, loamy ground where life can take hold and flourish. If the earth would have you be that, my son, then listen. Learn.”
From then on Thomas spent all of his free hours training, focusing in on the quietly whisperings well after the other children studying with him had gone off to play. He would move the earth until the skies turned dark, and the stars opened their eyes, leaving for home only when his mother finally came fot him. And while his practice never could give him the same, raw power of his peers, Thomas’ wielding became smoother and graceful, precise. By the time he was eight-year-old, the boy enjoyed making a show of how he could shoot pebbles at a target, letting them hit the same spot again and again without fail. It was a small victory, but one that his teachers respected. In the eyes of his elders, it showed that the boy had the same grit and discipline as any great soldier. And it was that year that it was decided that, when he came of age, the boy would indeed by brought into the House by marriage. The day Thomas was introduced to his would be fiancé, his mother gave birth to a second child, a baby sister named Cristiana. All took it as a sign that the house of Quakenbush to be blessed.
When his sister was not quite three months old, his father was given a mission by the leader of the House himself. His father, disguised as little more than a commoner, was to be sent to the fridge of the Southern woods, an area ruled by felines and brutal raiders. Rumors had reached the capital’s ears; stories of pale, wicked shadows that were spilling into their boarders from the beyond. Vampires were leaking into the land, or so said the stories. Most considered it to be utter nonsense. After all, the cursed undead could not cross the sea. But still, the stories brought worry to the House of Quakerion and who better to ease their fears than the loyal captain? Though Captiain Quakenbush assured the army it was an investigation that could be done alone, it was decided his wife and children would be brought along to aid in his disguise.
Before leaving for the village, Thomas had been given a special charge by his father. “I leave your sister’s safety to you, my son. Her life in your hands.” It was a charge the boy took to heart, and one that proved to be prophetic. It was the night before his ninth birthday. As he held his sleeping sister in his arms, he watched as his mother start preparing his favorite meal. It was a spiced stew that had been in the family for ages and, though his father did try, it was only she that could make it just right. Thomas’ father had been coming in through the back door, a bundle of firewood up on one shoulder, when the attack started. In a flash of steel, a blade point had pierced clean through his father’s body. Before the man had fallen to the ground, the pale beasts had been on him, their fangs ripping into open flesh as their fellows went for his mother. The woman had time enough to tell him to run before she too was silenced. Her neck was split open, her still pumping heart coating her attackers with streak of hot blood as she too was devoured alive, still screaming as Thomas ran through the door, holding his sister tight to his chest. Without thinking, the boy ran straight into the dark Southern woods, going as fast as his legs could carry him.
By the next morning, Thomas had somehow managed to find the village. Soaked with sweat and still holding tight to the screaming baby, he moved until his feet fell out from under him, bringing him down to his knees. As the villagers circled around him, he too began to scream, his high wailing matching that of his sister. For all now all he his eyes could see where the monsters that had ripped his parents open. Every shadow was a demon, waiting to leap out at him, every pale face a vampire lying in wait for him. And the blood. The blood was everywhere. Gone was the somber young man with the soft voice of the earth singing in his soul. All that was left was something… less, empty. A mind broken and scattered to the winds.
For seventeen years, Thomas has known only madness. Though now sporting the body of a man, the broken mind makes him act little more than a child. A tall, white haired boy who can only scream and run from the monsters that still seem to be chasing him. Only his sister, now almost a woman herself, can calm his terrors. There are times she can even bring out the little pieces of sanity he has left. There are even some days when he might even be mistaken for a normal man, albeit one who is dangerously thin from starvation. During these times Thomas might even hear the earth song again and remember his powers. But then a shadow will jump, or a twig will snap, and the madness returns.
RP sample:
Annie wouldn't stop bleeding.
Thomas put his hands over his ears, rocking back and forth on his heels as he stared down at the blood. Something had ripped the front of her dress open, taken away the breast band and left deep, red marks on her chest. There were hands too. Great, purple colored hands prints on her shoulder and peeking out from under her muddy skirt. “Annie,” he whimpered, his lip quivering as he listened to the sound of her labored breathing. “Annie, Annie wake up. Don’t leave me…”
The monsters had finally gotten her. They’d gotten her just like they’d gotten his papa and now he was going to have to watch her die too. Thomas always tried to tell her not to go out into the woods, but she never listened. Annie never listened, never listenedneverlistenedneverlistend. She was always trying to tell him what he needed to do, how he needed to let her go, but he knew better. He knew that there was a monster, a monster with a big axe for an arm that wanted to do things to her. Things he didn't want to think about. But still Annie would go to him, and she always came home hurt. But this time the axe monster had made her bleed and now she wouldn't open her eyes. He’d let his Papa down, he’d broken his promise. He’d let his sister fall out of his hands.
Her life in your hands.
Something about the words seemed to catch in his brain. Thomas stared down at her as they started to stick together, cutting through the foggy bits of his mind. His body grew still as he reached out and brushed a long curl away from her face. He could see the hint of a bruise on her neck. The same heavy hand print. Not a monster. It wasn't a monster who did this to her, but a man. A man he had seen once, right before Talla had died. A man who did things to her, terrible awful things no girl should ever have to bear alone.
It was like a shaft of sunlight shinning in his brain. It was the only thing he could use to describe it, the way he felt when the monsters stopped chasing him and only the real, physical world was left. What followed was always cold and brutal, a knife to the chest. For when the monsters were gone, and his eyes could finally see, Thomas Quakenbush could remember their world for what it was. What he had let it become. Oh goddess. Oh goddess what had they done to Cristiana now?
Scooping her body, still so tiny and small, up into his arms he cradled her against his chest. He pressed his face deep into her long curls, gritting his teeth as he felt hot tears escaping his eyes. Thomas rocked again, only now he rocked her the way their mother used to when she had been not even a year. He tried pressing his eyes together, but even that couldn't make the tears go away. “Why do you stay?” he murmured, a sob chocking the words in his throat. “Why do let me live?”
She should have let the bandits end him when she had been given the chance. Or should have ran from him. Thomas knew that he was not a man. Not a man like their father. Their father would have rather died than see his daughter shamed, and yet Thomas could barely keep control over his own mind. The harder he tried to hold it in place, to stay in the world with her, the faster he would leave. No it… it was more like fading. He would come back to her whenever there was a spark. A memory, a face, something that reminded him of their home in Boul. But anything new opened the flood gates and washed him away. Thomas a stranger in his own body, a fair weather friend that only poked his head up out of the darkness when the danger seemed clear.
Or perhaps it was a bit more simple. Perhaps it wasn't the monsters he was running from, but his own failures. The madness was no longer to protect him from the vampires, but to hide him from the truth. Thomas hadn't been able to live up to the promise heaped upon him. In the end, he was like the weak trees in the royal orchard that were culled before they could do any damage. Leaving him alive would only see the rest of the trees weakened, poisoned.
Annie let out a small moan, her brown eyes fluttering as they rolled up towards him. The air caught in his chest as he felt her fingers curl up against his ratty tunic. “Tommy…?” Her voice was small and thin, barely reaching a whisper.
He pressed his lips to her forehead, still rocking her softly. “Sssh, close your eyes. Rest.”
“It hurts, Tommy…”
He couldn't hold back the sobs anymore. His fingers wrapped into her hair as his face nuzzled against hers. “I know. I know. Oh goddess forgive me, Annie. I couldn't protect you!”
Cristiana drifted back to sleep in his arms as he showered her face with his tears. Thomas held her tight until the night left, and with it the clear place in his mind. As the morning light poked through the open places in their straw hut, he was screaming. Blood. There was blood on him. He dropped her as he curled himself into a tight ball, his fingernails biting into his scalp as he shrieked. “Annie! Blood! Annie, make the blood gone before they can smell us!”
Other:
N/A
Name/Alias:
Gracie
Age:
23
Gender:
Female
Tumblr:
N/A
Timezone:
Mountain
How did you find Palandri?:
It's still Katie's fault.
Character Info
Full Name:
Thomas Quakenbush
Race:
Terramentalist
Class:
Terramentalist
Age:
25
Sexuality :
Asexual (as of right now, maybe change if he can get his brain back together)
Bio:
Thomas Quakenbush started life a child of privilege. Son of Timothy Quakenbush, the handsome and clever young captain who had brought Quakerion victory in battle, and carrying the power of earth in his soul, the boy wanted for nothing. So respected was his father that there were even talks of the boy being matched with a girl from the ruling House, a marriage that was sure to produce many strong and blessed children for the cause. Thomas was to have a future, a chance at power, and what his parents could only hope to be a brilliant military career. And yet, even with such promise, the boy was… different.
Unlike the other children his age, who seemed to feel the very earth rumble through their bodies, Thomas could feel scarcely more than a whisper. The earth seemed to sing to him, a soft lullaby that tingled at the tips of his fingers. It was a gentle, shy creature, his magic, and something that seemed to pale in comparison to the mighty force with which the other boys his age were able to lift and move the earth beneath their feet. Troubled, the both had gone to his father, fearing something to be wrong with his gift. The captain, a kind but stern man, took his son up to the higher level of the city, out to where they could watch the mighty orchard of Quakerion house bask in the light of the afternoon light. “There are many types of earth, my son,” his father had whispered to him. “Rock and stone, yes, but also soil. Deep, loamy ground where life can take hold and flourish. If the earth would have you be that, my son, then listen. Learn.”
From then on Thomas spent all of his free hours training, focusing in on the quietly whisperings well after the other children studying with him had gone off to play. He would move the earth until the skies turned dark, and the stars opened their eyes, leaving for home only when his mother finally came fot him. And while his practice never could give him the same, raw power of his peers, Thomas’ wielding became smoother and graceful, precise. By the time he was eight-year-old, the boy enjoyed making a show of how he could shoot pebbles at a target, letting them hit the same spot again and again without fail. It was a small victory, but one that his teachers respected. In the eyes of his elders, it showed that the boy had the same grit and discipline as any great soldier. And it was that year that it was decided that, when he came of age, the boy would indeed by brought into the House by marriage. The day Thomas was introduced to his would be fiancé, his mother gave birth to a second child, a baby sister named Cristiana. All took it as a sign that the house of Quakenbush to be blessed.
When his sister was not quite three months old, his father was given a mission by the leader of the House himself. His father, disguised as little more than a commoner, was to be sent to the fridge of the Southern woods, an area ruled by felines and brutal raiders. Rumors had reached the capital’s ears; stories of pale, wicked shadows that were spilling into their boarders from the beyond. Vampires were leaking into the land, or so said the stories. Most considered it to be utter nonsense. After all, the cursed undead could not cross the sea. But still, the stories brought worry to the House of Quakerion and who better to ease their fears than the loyal captain? Though Captiain Quakenbush assured the army it was an investigation that could be done alone, it was decided his wife and children would be brought along to aid in his disguise.
Before leaving for the village, Thomas had been given a special charge by his father. “I leave your sister’s safety to you, my son. Her life in your hands.” It was a charge the boy took to heart, and one that proved to be prophetic. It was the night before his ninth birthday. As he held his sleeping sister in his arms, he watched as his mother start preparing his favorite meal. It was a spiced stew that had been in the family for ages and, though his father did try, it was only she that could make it just right. Thomas’ father had been coming in through the back door, a bundle of firewood up on one shoulder, when the attack started. In a flash of steel, a blade point had pierced clean through his father’s body. Before the man had fallen to the ground, the pale beasts had been on him, their fangs ripping into open flesh as their fellows went for his mother. The woman had time enough to tell him to run before she too was silenced. Her neck was split open, her still pumping heart coating her attackers with streak of hot blood as she too was devoured alive, still screaming as Thomas ran through the door, holding his sister tight to his chest. Without thinking, the boy ran straight into the dark Southern woods, going as fast as his legs could carry him.
By the next morning, Thomas had somehow managed to find the village. Soaked with sweat and still holding tight to the screaming baby, he moved until his feet fell out from under him, bringing him down to his knees. As the villagers circled around him, he too began to scream, his high wailing matching that of his sister. For all now all he his eyes could see where the monsters that had ripped his parents open. Every shadow was a demon, waiting to leap out at him, every pale face a vampire lying in wait for him. And the blood. The blood was everywhere. Gone was the somber young man with the soft voice of the earth singing in his soul. All that was left was something… less, empty. A mind broken and scattered to the winds.
For seventeen years, Thomas has known only madness. Though now sporting the body of a man, the broken mind makes him act little more than a child. A tall, white haired boy who can only scream and run from the monsters that still seem to be chasing him. Only his sister, now almost a woman herself, can calm his terrors. There are times she can even bring out the little pieces of sanity he has left. There are even some days when he might even be mistaken for a normal man, albeit one who is dangerously thin from starvation. During these times Thomas might even hear the earth song again and remember his powers. But then a shadow will jump, or a twig will snap, and the madness returns.
RP sample:
Annie wouldn't stop bleeding.
Thomas put his hands over his ears, rocking back and forth on his heels as he stared down at the blood. Something had ripped the front of her dress open, taken away the breast band and left deep, red marks on her chest. There were hands too. Great, purple colored hands prints on her shoulder and peeking out from under her muddy skirt. “Annie,” he whimpered, his lip quivering as he listened to the sound of her labored breathing. “Annie, Annie wake up. Don’t leave me…”
The monsters had finally gotten her. They’d gotten her just like they’d gotten his papa and now he was going to have to watch her die too. Thomas always tried to tell her not to go out into the woods, but she never listened. Annie never listened, never listenedneverlistenedneverlistend. She was always trying to tell him what he needed to do, how he needed to let her go, but he knew better. He knew that there was a monster, a monster with a big axe for an arm that wanted to do things to her. Things he didn't want to think about. But still Annie would go to him, and she always came home hurt. But this time the axe monster had made her bleed and now she wouldn't open her eyes. He’d let his Papa down, he’d broken his promise. He’d let his sister fall out of his hands.
Her life in your hands.
Something about the words seemed to catch in his brain. Thomas stared down at her as they started to stick together, cutting through the foggy bits of his mind. His body grew still as he reached out and brushed a long curl away from her face. He could see the hint of a bruise on her neck. The same heavy hand print. Not a monster. It wasn't a monster who did this to her, but a man. A man he had seen once, right before Talla had died. A man who did things to her, terrible awful things no girl should ever have to bear alone.
It was like a shaft of sunlight shinning in his brain. It was the only thing he could use to describe it, the way he felt when the monsters stopped chasing him and only the real, physical world was left. What followed was always cold and brutal, a knife to the chest. For when the monsters were gone, and his eyes could finally see, Thomas Quakenbush could remember their world for what it was. What he had let it become. Oh goddess. Oh goddess what had they done to Cristiana now?
Scooping her body, still so tiny and small, up into his arms he cradled her against his chest. He pressed his face deep into her long curls, gritting his teeth as he felt hot tears escaping his eyes. Thomas rocked again, only now he rocked her the way their mother used to when she had been not even a year. He tried pressing his eyes together, but even that couldn't make the tears go away. “Why do you stay?” he murmured, a sob chocking the words in his throat. “Why do let me live?”
She should have let the bandits end him when she had been given the chance. Or should have ran from him. Thomas knew that he was not a man. Not a man like their father. Their father would have rather died than see his daughter shamed, and yet Thomas could barely keep control over his own mind. The harder he tried to hold it in place, to stay in the world with her, the faster he would leave. No it… it was more like fading. He would come back to her whenever there was a spark. A memory, a face, something that reminded him of their home in Boul. But anything new opened the flood gates and washed him away. Thomas a stranger in his own body, a fair weather friend that only poked his head up out of the darkness when the danger seemed clear.
Or perhaps it was a bit more simple. Perhaps it wasn't the monsters he was running from, but his own failures. The madness was no longer to protect him from the vampires, but to hide him from the truth. Thomas hadn't been able to live up to the promise heaped upon him. In the end, he was like the weak trees in the royal orchard that were culled before they could do any damage. Leaving him alive would only see the rest of the trees weakened, poisoned.
Annie let out a small moan, her brown eyes fluttering as they rolled up towards him. The air caught in his chest as he felt her fingers curl up against his ratty tunic. “Tommy…?” Her voice was small and thin, barely reaching a whisper.
He pressed his lips to her forehead, still rocking her softly. “Sssh, close your eyes. Rest.”
“It hurts, Tommy…”
He couldn't hold back the sobs anymore. His fingers wrapped into her hair as his face nuzzled against hers. “I know. I know. Oh goddess forgive me, Annie. I couldn't protect you!”
Cristiana drifted back to sleep in his arms as he showered her face with his tears. Thomas held her tight until the night left, and with it the clear place in his mind. As the morning light poked through the open places in their straw hut, he was screaming. Blood. There was blood on him. He dropped her as he curled himself into a tight ball, his fingernails biting into his scalp as he shrieked. “Annie! Blood! Annie, make the blood gone before they can smell us!”
Other:
N/A
