Post by Tadhg Whelan on Jan 15, 2008 20:13:32 GMT -5
Name: Tadhg Ádhamhnán Whelan
Age: 24
Birthday: January 3rd
Birthplace: Dungarvan, County Waterford, Ireland
Personality: Much of Tadhg's personality can be summed up in one word: obsession. When he has an interest in something he focuses on it to the near exclusion of everything else, including food and sleep. His main interest is astronomy, indeed anything having to do with the sky. There is not a lot of room for other people in his life. Generally he's polite, though not very friendly or engaged, but if he's interrupted or someone tries to push him into doing something he doesn't want to do he can be downright cold. That's not to say that he never wants to socialize; if someone wants to talk about something that intrigues him he can be passionately curious. In his free time he can often be found stargazing, researching, sketching, practicing magic, or just sitting and thinking, usually accompanied by his cat, Twilight.
Appearance: If Tadhg would straighten up his height would be nearly six feet, but he slouches and usually keeps his head down. He’s lanky, a bit bow-legged and duck-footed, with awkwardly broad shoulders and large, bony hands giving the impression that he has yet to grow into his skeleton. The mournful look on his face seems to be permanent, accentuated by his combination of pale skin, unkempt black hair, and dark gray eyes.
Picture (put a link here to a picture of your character):
History: Since he was a boy, Tadhg's greatest ambition was to be an astronaut. His parents were always very supportive of him and his younger sister, and even when he didn't do well in school because he would only do assignments he really cared about and ignore all the rest, they encouraged his interest in science and nature. All of his classmates thought he was strange and paid him as little attention as he paid them. He went to a university in Dublin and this is where he discovered magic, in the dusty tomes of a comfortably lonely corner of the library. The concept of connecting to and manipulating natural forces intrigued him. It became his new obsession.
Things took a turn when one day he was late for class and attempted to teleport himself over to the building. The spell was far beyond his ability and he found himself underground, effectively buried alive, where he panicked and would have suffocated had not an experienced witch felt the presence of the huge magical mishap and returned him to the surface. The incident left him claustrophobic but otherwise unharmed. The witch introduced herself as Fern and became his mentor and a friend of sorts, helping him become a proper warlock and get through university. When he graduated she suggested that he continue his education at the Slayers' School in Paris.
Sample RP: (This is from an RP using a half man, half wolf person called a wolftaur. Just so you aren't confused.)
When Fisk awoke on the morning of the fourth day, the day he was going to cross the sea again to meet Vena, he found that the world had turned white.
He kneaded his eyes with his knuckles and blinked. It was still white, a thick grayish white.
"Oh," he groaned. "Fog. Great." His voice was loud; the hazy black trunks of the trees stood in perfect silence amidst the fog.
Hoping that it would burn off as the sun rose, Fisk picked up his belongings and loped to the shore where he docked his boat. The waves were hard and cold, lashing his paws if he ventured too near, leaving the soft mud freezing and gritty. The fog lay heavy on the water. He paced along the beach, jabbing his spear into the sand.
He had made this journey many times before. It was not a long one. He knew what direction he had to take. How bad would it be... he cringed to know his recklessness... how bad would it be to set out anyway?
"No, that's asking for trouble," he murmured to himself, frowning in resolution and pacing more furiously. He would wait. The fog would clear.
Oh, and Joss Rocks My Socks.
Age: 24
Birthday: January 3rd
Birthplace: Dungarvan, County Waterford, Ireland
Personality: Much of Tadhg's personality can be summed up in one word: obsession. When he has an interest in something he focuses on it to the near exclusion of everything else, including food and sleep. His main interest is astronomy, indeed anything having to do with the sky. There is not a lot of room for other people in his life. Generally he's polite, though not very friendly or engaged, but if he's interrupted or someone tries to push him into doing something he doesn't want to do he can be downright cold. That's not to say that he never wants to socialize; if someone wants to talk about something that intrigues him he can be passionately curious. In his free time he can often be found stargazing, researching, sketching, practicing magic, or just sitting and thinking, usually accompanied by his cat, Twilight.
Appearance: If Tadhg would straighten up his height would be nearly six feet, but he slouches and usually keeps his head down. He’s lanky, a bit bow-legged and duck-footed, with awkwardly broad shoulders and large, bony hands giving the impression that he has yet to grow into his skeleton. The mournful look on his face seems to be permanent, accentuated by his combination of pale skin, unkempt black hair, and dark gray eyes.
Picture (put a link here to a picture of your character):
History: Since he was a boy, Tadhg's greatest ambition was to be an astronaut. His parents were always very supportive of him and his younger sister, and even when he didn't do well in school because he would only do assignments he really cared about and ignore all the rest, they encouraged his interest in science and nature. All of his classmates thought he was strange and paid him as little attention as he paid them. He went to a university in Dublin and this is where he discovered magic, in the dusty tomes of a comfortably lonely corner of the library. The concept of connecting to and manipulating natural forces intrigued him. It became his new obsession.
Things took a turn when one day he was late for class and attempted to teleport himself over to the building. The spell was far beyond his ability and he found himself underground, effectively buried alive, where he panicked and would have suffocated had not an experienced witch felt the presence of the huge magical mishap and returned him to the surface. The incident left him claustrophobic but otherwise unharmed. The witch introduced herself as Fern and became his mentor and a friend of sorts, helping him become a proper warlock and get through university. When he graduated she suggested that he continue his education at the Slayers' School in Paris.
Sample RP: (This is from an RP using a half man, half wolf person called a wolftaur. Just so you aren't confused.)
When Fisk awoke on the morning of the fourth day, the day he was going to cross the sea again to meet Vena, he found that the world had turned white.
He kneaded his eyes with his knuckles and blinked. It was still white, a thick grayish white.
"Oh," he groaned. "Fog. Great." His voice was loud; the hazy black trunks of the trees stood in perfect silence amidst the fog.
Hoping that it would burn off as the sun rose, Fisk picked up his belongings and loped to the shore where he docked his boat. The waves were hard and cold, lashing his paws if he ventured too near, leaving the soft mud freezing and gritty. The fog lay heavy on the water. He paced along the beach, jabbing his spear into the sand.
He had made this journey many times before. It was not a long one. He knew what direction he had to take. How bad would it be... he cringed to know his recklessness... how bad would it be to set out anyway?
"No, that's asking for trouble," he murmured to himself, frowning in resolution and pacing more furiously. He would wait. The fog would clear.
Oh, and Joss Rocks My Socks.
