[Mima]

oo mark with a serial gambler from ibalend, (ostracized for her debts)

[revvington]

Mark!

[Fiern]

Name: Tahimik
AKA: 'mik
Gender: Male
Kingdom: Miratlan

Tahimik was born to a mother who didn't much want him. She saw to it that he was fed adequately the first few years of his life, but gave him not a shred of affection. When he started to drift away and spend more time roaming the tunnels she did nothing to discourage him, even when he came home roughed up and clearly having gotten into fights. She stopped buying food for him. Didn't acknowledge him when he was there. Finally after weeks on his own he came home to a locked door. He turned away and hasn't tried to go back again.

If those who knew him were asked what he was like, they would almost unanimously reply that he was quiet. Silent would be closer to the truth. 'mik doesn't speak unless he absolutely has to, and even then it tends to be the bare minimum needed to get the job done. There are several reasons for this. The first is just his upbringing. There was no chatter, no friendly socializing, only icy silences. He also doesn't really believe anyone wants to hear from him. Though he doesn't act it he is deeply insecure, and certain that others will reject him as his own mother did, keeps everyone at arms length. If he doesn't care then it won't hurt. The second reason is the kingdom of Miratlan itself. While some of the tunnels are kept well lit, others are not. Some are so pitch black that not even the sharpest eye can pick out the ground before them. 'mik uses his ears to navigate. Sound from him would not only confuse him, it would give up his location to others who might be less than friendly. This is also one of the reasons he doesn't make any effort to keep his shaggy hair out of his eyes, they're rarely useful anyway.

Occasionally if he gets hungry enough 'mik does some training with the army recruits, which also means he can at least sort of defend himself. For the most part however, he's a half-feral street child who gets by either stealing or going without. He is very good at finding his way into places, and very, very quiet.

Still, it seems only a matter of time before his is caught, either by his marks, the army, or those who truly control the underworld of Miratlan. Of course, should that come to pass his similarity to a certain rather infamous con artist often accompanied by his trade mark snakes might be noted. His mother never did speak of his father.

[Jippy]

Mark!

[dolly]

These two readopts will offically end on January 23rd (a week from now). If you need an extension, please PM me or Aeryn;.

[justamindset]

Name
Gender
Their kingdom
At least 300 words about their character

Extras are unlimited, prettying up is encouraged.

The end date is undecided but you will have at least three weeks to work.



MARK

[sunny-skies]

markmark

[dolly]

Being extended to the 28th!

[Phina D Wolf]

mark

[Murdoc Niccals]

Zevran
Male | Eliery

A poet, a romantic, a man born to quip
In the land of castles, born with a lute in his grip
His start in the bars, strumming song
Attracting fair maidens ere long

His voice silken grace
Upon a fine maiden's hip
Songs of valor, a blushing maiden's embrace,
The history of Eliery, sung from golden lip

Among all who hold the lute,
The title of Bard simply never is just one with a flute
To be a living legend, a man of honeyed word,
To compose prose for the ages, the requirement third

Zevran! Bard of the Knights,
Soft voice a balm during one's last rites.
Perched gently in the graves of yore,
Lulling to sleep those who shall rise nevermore.

Why Bard! You cry, hands on hips,
"Why is it none of his songs ever made it to scripts?"
Dear listener! Young traveler with ears perked high,
A Bard written on annals is as good as an infected sty!

Zevran, true to his profession of song,
Took every attempt to write his melodies...
Cast them to the embers til the flames were long!
And offender beaten horrendously!

The men battle with steel,
Zevran with voice,
performing his songs to the crown with zeal
A zeal that gave the queen no other choice!

Up to the castles, through the fields,
The Bard cavorted up, a crowd at his heels.
To the throne he amassed the crowd he would wield!
And to the Queen, Zevran did kneel...

"Fairest maiden, fairest maiden, holding the kingdom in hand,
I have come, I have spun, a tale so grand!
The dead shall rise in one last dance,
The fields shall fill as the living prance!
In my ten years, a decade, a fraction of a century-
My song is renowned, my skill plenary!
For bards of today, and forevermore
I ask you give us a day, a holiday like those of yore
To celebrate song and the cessation of war!"