Darien McConnal
Posted: Tue Jul 17, 2012 5:04 am
Name: Darien McConnal
Age: 20
Race: Human
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 180 lbs
Physical Description: Tall, thin, with messy brown hair and a quirky smile that won over more than a couple young ladies, Darien was one of the decidedly handsomer of his friends growing up. His once pale skin has now started to tan, and although he lacks the callouses and hardness of a rough upbringing, he sports his fair share of scars from a childhood spent climbing walls and boxing friends. Darien dresses in a reserved fashion, preferring low, soft boots, slim trousers, a dark green shirt and simple vest. Despite avoiding flash, his garb is very clearly of quality make.
Possessions: 30 Bishan, drawstring knapsack, knife, loaf of bread, half wheel of cheese, six apples, waterskin, small hatchet, clothing, small journal, ink, pen.
Powers or Strengths: Passable boxer, literate, quick thinker, fairly athletic, solid knowledge of trade, very quickly liked and trusted by strangers. Talented networker, both in legitimate and black markets.
Weaknesses: A fool for a pretty girl, a terrible swordsman, occasionally arrogant, and beyond awkward in a suit of armor. He's often reckless and sometimes overly loyal. Believes strongly in honor among thieves.
History:
Darien's Journal, Entry 1
With the end of my journey in sight and the walls of Marn just in the distance, now seems an appropriate time to begin my story. I doubt any will take the time to read my meandering thoughts, but it is important to me that I remember what brought me here. The journey itself is a tale for another time, a bland narrative filled with dust and rain and long, lonely nights.
I spent my childhood in Keltaris, the son of a moderately successful trader. I never knew my mother, only the woman my father married when I was fourteen. She didn't speak to me much, nor I to her. I was never around the house much anyways. My father would leave for months on the Southern Trade Route. He made enough to send me to a good school while he was gone, with many of the other trader's sons. School would change my life, but not because of what I learned there--I spent many days playing hooky and getting into trouble when I should have been studying.
I had a knack for finding opportunity. Being around so many rich men's sons meant that there was more than enough opportunity to make money. Young men are reckless, and like to spend their money on reckless things. I became the person who could get them whatever they wanted. The scumbags liked me because they could trust me, and because I held the keys to a market they couldn't directly access. The merchant's sons liked me because they didn't have to deal with the scumbags. Bridging the middle of high and low society gave me an appreciation of both the good life and the day to day hustle of the streets.
What really began to wear at me after a while was that so many of my fellow students were content to simply take over their fathers' businesses, be passed the reigns to a life of comfort and throw away any dreams of excitement or accomplishment.
And so as I look off in the direction of Marn, a city a far cry for the place of my upbringing, I remember why I left, why I took hundreds of bishan I had saved and walked out the front door. What I had bought with that money was not the meals or rooms or wagon rides I had spent it on. What I had bought was an opportunity to make something of myself that no one else could claim credit for. There is always room for someone who can find something.
Age: 20
Race: Human
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 180 lbs
Physical Description: Tall, thin, with messy brown hair and a quirky smile that won over more than a couple young ladies, Darien was one of the decidedly handsomer of his friends growing up. His once pale skin has now started to tan, and although he lacks the callouses and hardness of a rough upbringing, he sports his fair share of scars from a childhood spent climbing walls and boxing friends. Darien dresses in a reserved fashion, preferring low, soft boots, slim trousers, a dark green shirt and simple vest. Despite avoiding flash, his garb is very clearly of quality make.
Possessions: 30 Bishan, drawstring knapsack, knife, loaf of bread, half wheel of cheese, six apples, waterskin, small hatchet, clothing, small journal, ink, pen.
Powers or Strengths: Passable boxer, literate, quick thinker, fairly athletic, solid knowledge of trade, very quickly liked and trusted by strangers. Talented networker, both in legitimate and black markets.
Weaknesses: A fool for a pretty girl, a terrible swordsman, occasionally arrogant, and beyond awkward in a suit of armor. He's often reckless and sometimes overly loyal. Believes strongly in honor among thieves.
History:
Darien's Journal, Entry 1
With the end of my journey in sight and the walls of Marn just in the distance, now seems an appropriate time to begin my story. I doubt any will take the time to read my meandering thoughts, but it is important to me that I remember what brought me here. The journey itself is a tale for another time, a bland narrative filled with dust and rain and long, lonely nights.
I spent my childhood in Keltaris, the son of a moderately successful trader. I never knew my mother, only the woman my father married when I was fourteen. She didn't speak to me much, nor I to her. I was never around the house much anyways. My father would leave for months on the Southern Trade Route. He made enough to send me to a good school while he was gone, with many of the other trader's sons. School would change my life, but not because of what I learned there--I spent many days playing hooky and getting into trouble when I should have been studying.
I had a knack for finding opportunity. Being around so many rich men's sons meant that there was more than enough opportunity to make money. Young men are reckless, and like to spend their money on reckless things. I became the person who could get them whatever they wanted. The scumbags liked me because they could trust me, and because I held the keys to a market they couldn't directly access. The merchant's sons liked me because they didn't have to deal with the scumbags. Bridging the middle of high and low society gave me an appreciation of both the good life and the day to day hustle of the streets.
What really began to wear at me after a while was that so many of my fellow students were content to simply take over their fathers' businesses, be passed the reigns to a life of comfort and throw away any dreams of excitement or accomplishment.
And so as I look off in the direction of Marn, a city a far cry for the place of my upbringing, I remember why I left, why I took hundreds of bishan I had saved and walked out the front door. What I had bought with that money was not the meals or rooms or wagon rides I had spent it on. What I had bought was an opportunity to make something of myself that no one else could claim credit for. There is always room for someone who can find something.