Name: Duibhin
Other Titles: None
Gender: Male
Age: 33
Class/Vocation: Dark Templar/Mercenary
Birthplace: Deep in the towering Eiglophian Mountain peaks of Cimmeria
Current Home: Wherever his travels take him. More recently though; a return to Old Tarantia.
Physical Description:
They say only a true Cimmerian owns dark hair, broad muscles and great height to tower over his opponent. In that case, minus the height; the weathered Duibhin is certainly a fine Cimmerian specimen. Though, seemingly black, thick shoulder length hair, actually bears burnt umber tones in the sunlight. Since childhood, he has maintained two braids on either side of his face. Since adolescence, a fine growth of a beard, trimmed at the chin; he does not quite enjoy the feeling of full hair across his face. From beneath stern and heavy brows, are the steel-blue eyes that roar like the river that winds through the fields of the dead chieftains. Yet the nose is relatively straight, long and with a slight bump at the bridge; the tip gently raised and pointed: His mother’s gentle nose, minus the spread of freckles. Beneath the firm lips that are narrow in width, is the stern, stubborn chin with a single dimple, that completes the oval-shaped and chiselled face. Years of martial training with the sword and shield under heavy armours, have granted him the body needed to wield such weapons with ease and grace. A sheer masculine body covered in dark hairs and labelled in scars declaring his many victories in battle. Yet for a warrior of Cimmeria, he follows the shorter genes of his bloodline; standing at roughly 5’9”.
Virtue:
DisciplineDuibhin follows the conduct of the ‘riddle of steel,’ and has therefore been a disciple of his sword for many, many years. In his eyes, seeing is believing; he holds the sword as an extension of his arm. Feels it in his palm. Once he believed his strength came from the sword alone, but he has since learnt that it is the resolve and commitment brought to a task, not the quality or quantity of tools used in performing it, that is the most important factor in determining success. His outer shell is strong, and his inner even stronger as he lives his life by the influence of other cultures on his former, fading Cimmerian morals.
Vice:
ApathyThe indifferent state of a general lack of emotion, caused by the extremities of his virtues. This suppresses excitement, motivation and passion leading to, in the most extreme cases, a depressive or suicidal ‘death seekers’ nature. A lack of fear is certainly a dangerous thing, for Duibhin will certainly charge into any foe. He has seen Morrigan’s ravens; he knows he cannot live forever but only hopes that his ultimate death will be the beautiful entrance into the great dining halls of Valhalla. That, or dine in Hel.
Background Story(To be completed still
It will probably be a story posted on the journals forum, so I'll just summarise here.)
In a nutshell, ever since he left the mountain, Duibhin has lived his life mostly as a Mercenary. He never had the inclination to serve an army as a blind soldier not knowing who, why and what he is fighting for, other than to serve an Aquilonian General too lazy to resolve his own matters like a real man should. His knowledge of Hyboria is therefore quite expanse due to his many travels across the lands, and he would certainly own a tale or two about the people he met or those unfortunate enough to meet the sharp edge of his sword. But those were the young days. Now, he is a seasoned warrior in his prime, weighed down by responsibilities he shrugged aside selfishly in his youth. More recently, the bonds of blood and his neglectance of that very important duty: to protect his blood, because afterall, blood is far thicker than ale. Whether he trully seeks the assurance of a family is unknown, yet with the word 'Templari' on his lips, his intentions are now firmly set in stone.
Subject: Duibhin 
Wed Sep 30, 2009 4:02 pm
Welcome to the gruffy sod!
