greyjoy, rider

greyjoy, rider Apr 5, 2012 23:32:51 GMT -5

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Post by rider on Apr 5, 2012 23:32:51 GMT -5

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rider greyjoy.

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His father was Abernon Greyjoy, a lower noble who was fighting and died at Robert Baratheon's hands. The man was a widower and brought his young son along since he had no one to watch him. Rider stayed with the camp while his father fought. One day, when he was barely old enough to remember his fathers body tossed onto the funeral pyre. One of his father's few surviving bannermen took the boy. He claimed him as his own, and raised him as such for seven years. Kanth was a strange man, stern one moment, gentle the next. But he was honorable. He taught Rider how to hunt, how to track and how kill. Kanth was a ranger before becoming a bannerman, and Rider took to the profession like a raven takes to the wind. A master of stealth, he is proficient with many weapons but prefers his bow, throwing knives, daggers and poisons. His bow is constantly at his side, and is named swift wind. Rider grew knowing he would work for the king, whoever that was at the time and patrol the wilderness along the kingsroad and dispatch criminals.

Growing up trained to kill, Rider has this special way of detaching his emotions from the task at hand. When killing, he simply things of method and form, not about the fact he is ending a life. However, Rider is a tender guy. He is usually focused on a mission and ruthless about reaching his goals. But when on leisure time, he can be sly, quick witted and surprisingly kind. A love of nature and children, he is a moral man who tries to do all he can to better the world. There is a motivation to the calculated killer and that is to better and protect the world. Rider however would never admit it. He speaks in a very cold and gruff way and can seem quite harsh. He is not social, due to his long stints of silence and solitude. A pessimist he rarely sees the good and hopeful in life.

Rider has been alone for a very long time. While hunting rapists in the north, Kanth was ambushed by a shadowcat. He killed the beast, and within the hour he was dead himself. Rider was fifteen then. The beast perished, it was large, nearly the size of a direwolf and a deep onyx black with stripes in shades of grey. Rider mourned for two days, camping by the burried body of Kanth. Thats when soft screams filled the night. He ran in pursuit of the noise and found buzzards picking at a pair of Shadowcat kittens. They crawled out of their den in search of their mother, the cat laying dead mere yards away. Rider chased off the birds. One kitten died that night, not able to handle the sections of flesh ripped from its still screaming body. They were puffs of grey fur, their eyes not yet opened. It was a pittiful sight, the living kitten. A chunk from its ear gone, along with a wound down the center of its forehead. It wiggled and cried for hours. Rider knew he should just knife the thing and be done with it... but he couldnt. It fought so hard, defending its run brother from those birds. He treated the wounds and bought milk from a local inn. The kitten lived. It grew strong and playful. However, it meowed way to much. That earned the shadowcat its name- Crier. It started out as a nick name, "Move it, you crier." But alas it stuck.

As Rider grew, so did his closest friend and soon he found out, lady friend. Crier is a fullgrown lady now, terrible to behold in truth. She comes to his ribcage and has her mother's coat only with a scar falling between her eyes and a chunk of her left ear missing. At night, she is nearly invisible, save for her silver eyes. Silent and lethal, just like Rider they make quite the pair. At twenty, rider has made a name for himself as a fairly intimidating ranger. The fast his beastly 'sister' follows him every where only adds to the legend. One rumor is that he was raised by Shadowcats! Rider simply laughs these away.

A dark yet humble picture of morality Rider lives selflessly and seeks only to slaughter the wicked. He roams around, half wild from lack of a bed or a speaking companion, he can be a bit odd.

[/style][style= width: 188px; height: 100px; background-color: #D1D1D1; font-family: arial; text-align: justify; font-size: 09px; color: #656565; border-top: #D1D1D1 2px solid; border-bottom: #D1D1D1 2px solid; padding-left: 3px; padding-right: 3px; overflow: auto;]Rider hung his hammock in the trees of the forest not far from riverrun. That old Fey bastard was whining about how a night stole and raped his daughter. Rider however, found them quite happy and not very well covered in a tent on the way back to the knights keep in his home of dorne. The bruises on the knights neck was enough for Rider to pretend to be a drunk and scurry off. Who sucks their rapists neck with such passion to leave love bruises? It was really very funny. He would simply tell Walder Fey he couldnt find them. After seeing the twins he couldnt blame the girl for running. On the limb above him, he saw a pair of silver eyes looking like the moon's doubles glare down at him. Crier was perched up, ready to keep watch between naps. Pulling his blanket over himself, Rider readied for sleep. Most rangers slept on the ground. And a lot of them died that way. But by making a hammock and coating it with Crier's shedding hairs, he was confident he was invisible at night. A meow that was to deep for a barn cat was sent down and Rider smirked, girls could be so sensitive! "Good night Crier." He spoke as he rolled onto his side.

male.

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thereisalieinperfection @ CAUTION 2.0

Win or Die

Post by rider on Apr 5, 2012 23:32:51 GMT -5

Post by Shoe on Apr 5, 2012 23:38:45 GMT -5

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