Name: Kyle Vorgoth
Nationality: Wanderer
Race: Fanalis
Tier: D
Specialization: Strength
Age + Birthdate: 35, 23/10
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Personality:
Kyle is a reliable man, who works hard to keep his 'brothers' and 'sisters' safe from harm. He normally insists upon going first into battle, lightening the brunt of the opponent's attacks and protecting others from being on the business end of a harmful attack. Though this hard working face on the man is shown in battle, especially when his allies are in danger, Kyle also has a lazy streak about him. When there are chores to do around camp, he often times mysteriously disappears.
In a social group of people, Kyle is normally silent. His personality only begins to shine when protecting others or when in a group of three or less. A portion of this is due to the fact that he has a lazy streak, as the effort of vying for attention with others was nothing he ever felt was important enough to focus on. This has lead to others believing that he is shy, when in fact the man is simply reserved and non-engaging in group situations.
While lazy, Kyle works hard to carry out orders given to him. Depending on how tedious the work may be, or what the work involves, however, also contributes to how close to the letter he completes the orders as opposed to how close to the spirit of the words he completes the orders.
Likes:
- Traveling: Kyle enjoys the chance to travel, desiring the opportunity to experience the various cultures and lands.
- Compatriots: Those who can sympathize and work alongside Kyle are a blessing, of sorts, to the man. His search for compatriots has lead him from one mercenary group to another.
Dislikes:
- Dishonesty: Kyle can't stand the thought of someone lying and getting away with it. While he doesn't mind white lies, the type of deception from those he meets that harms those close to Kyle are what gets him heated.
- Sweets: Kyle never had much of a sweet tooth, which some have commented on being unfortunate. Never having liked sweets in the first place, however, caused Kyle to not care much in those regards.
Aspirations:
Kyle's aspirations are not that impressive. Three hots and a cot is a phrase he often says, describing how easily satisfied he is. That being said, Kyle does have some aspirations. Warfare being the only trade he truly knew, he wishes to join a mercenary group where his compatriots didn't drop like flies. He believes that if he could only raise in the ranks of such a group, he would be able to create a force to be reckoned with, which could shield the flanks of their soldiers and provide a great benefit to the mortality rate of those he fought alongside.
Phobias/fears:
Antlophobia, the fear of floods. As a younger man, when Kyle was traveling with his mercenary father in the region around Balbadd, he had an incident. The skies grew dark when they approached a town. At first, it seemed as if it would simply be another rainstorm. Instead, however, it turned into a torrential downpour that swept up a great deal of the caravan's people and goods. When the skies grow particularly dark, Kyle bites his nails in worry. When it begins to rain heavily, he mentally retreats behind a wall of impassiveness while worrying about the chance that another flood could occur. During a flood, Kyle freezes up. It takes either a great shock or another having a great need for his assistance to break out of the shock.
Face-Claim: Cross Marian (D-Gray Man)
Hair Color:Red
Eye Color:Red
Height: 178 cm
Weight:86 kg
Appearance:
Kyle stands at an average height, with unruly hair that would point a person towards the predisposition of him being of Fanalis blood. Upon his chin is a small goatee, which almost points in an arrow towards his lower lip. His body is toned from battle practice, and he is often seen with his tower shield upon his back. Though he has no other standard weapon, the tower shield has seen its wear and tear over the course of his travels. While he prefers to wear darker colored garments, Kyle will wear whatever is best for the climate he is in. Often times, he can be seen with a hat of sorts on his head in order to protect his eyes from the sun.
Rukh Alignment: White
Special Traits: None
- [b]History:[/b]:
- Kyle was born to a family from Reim. His time spent with his parents was rather short, however, as he was captured as a baby to be raised into slavery by a group of slavers that were famous for their legal practice of slavery. As it turned out, which was evident from his kidnapping, they secretly ran through shady practices as well. His time spent as a slave, however, was even shorter than the time he spent with his family. A wandering Caravan Mercenary from Balbadd crossed paths with the slavers, slew them, and freed the slaves.
When asking if any of the slaves would be willing to take the baby into their care, there were no takers. Not wanting to leave the child to die, the wandering mercenary took the child into his personal care. Over the course of the years, the man became known as the babysitting mercenary; a strong man, who brought with him a child everywhere he went. As the child grew, he admired the mercenary who raised him. The man was, for all intents and purposes, the child's father. He had even went so far as to give Kyle his own surname, Vorgoth; the surname that his father, a nomad who had married a woman from Balbadd, had brought to the lineage. Kyle's first name had come from the Mercenary's uncle.
By the age of 15, through mimicry and a natural propensity towards warfare, Kyle Vorgoth had shown a decent amount of skill and a great deal of potential in the art of warfare. He now worked alongside his foster father, doing his best and actively seeking the man's approval by heaping up accomplishments during their missions. Most of the time, the Mercenary was an approving man. Occasionally, however, he explained that Kyle was trying far too hard, and that one day his overenthusiastic approach could turn back and bite him.
Paying it no mind, Kyle continued to show his foster-father how skilled he was at fighting. That was, until one fateful day, when the caravan they were protecting came under the attack of a small group of bandits. Overconfident, Kyle rushed forward to take them out. After having slew two of the bandits, the rest turned to run and Kyle began giving chase, ignoring his foster-father's warnings. He caught up to the remaining three, who had managed to slow him down through various tricks such as caltrops and the like, and slew them. Proud that he had not let a single of the bandits escape, Kyle returned to the caravan to see that the mercenaries had been but a ruse to lure some of the guards away. It had been pillaged, and his foster-father lay up against one of the over-turned carriages. Crying out in anguish, Kyle ran forward. He put his hand close to the mouth of the Mercenary, and his heart beat quickly. His father was still breathing!
As if awakening from a sleep, the Mercenary opened his eyes and smiled weakly. The wound on his gut was a serious one. "Lis..ten. I.. I don't... have much time." The man coughed, some blood coming out. Kyle grasped the man's hand in his own, squeezing reassuringly. One of the Mercenary's lungs must have been punctured. Kyle gave the man his full attention, his worry over his foster-father's condition having cooled down his head. "Do..n't... Blame... Yourself. I'm... Pr..oud. Of you." The man coughed, again, more blood coming from his mouth. Though Kyle had always known the man was strong from their sparring, the sudden squeeze the Mercenary gave on Kyle's hand surprised him. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing an admired one dying before him, or perhaps it was the flames of the Mercenary's last moment burning at its brightest, but Kyle swore that the strength of the grip that the man had on his hand was beyond that of what a Fanalis had. He tried hard to not wince in pain, as his father was doing his best to hang on to life and send his final words over. "I've... Alwa..ys. Been pre..pared. For this."
Tears began to fall down Kyle's face. He knew that the man was on borrowed time, and that this fatherly mercenary was only moments away from death's door. He grit his teeth, continuing to listen. His foster-father laughed, causing him to cough up more blood. "But.. Such.. Is the li..fe. Of a mer..cenary. You..ve. Beeen a s..on. To me. Go forwa..rd.. With my ble..ss..ings... and.. love." The man's last words had been said, and the strength that had gripped Kyle's hand so firmly just moments before had gone limp. Rage and sadness conflicted within the Fanalis' body, but his ancestries predisposition towards anger tipped the scales. Kyle let out a howl of fury, but his anger was not towards the bandits that had slain his father. It was at himself, for allowing one who was so close to him to die.
It was that day that Kyle Vorgoth threw away his sword and took up a tower shield. The life of the Mercenary was the only one he knew, but he would not pick up a blade until he had tempered himself as a man who kept what was truly important in sight; family, and friends.
- [b]Roleplay Sample:[/b]:
Kyle was a rather lazy lout. He never really wanted to work for his father's shop; one that sold basic things such as fishnets, rations, backpacks and other assorted traveling gear. It was, after all, too much work.
Instead, he found himself thinking of the adventuring life. In all honesty, it wasn't the idea of working hard that put Kyle down. It was all the thinking that had to be put into a store that was such a drag. Sure, he could do it, but it wasn't really his thing.
One day, when he was traveling through his town, he saw posters applied to a tavern wall;
Kirby's Mercenaries:
3 meals a day & a roof over your head. We are able to outfit you, but you must leave your past behind you. Once you become a part of this Company, there is no going back.
Kyle saw this as his chance; he could join this group and travel across the continents! He didn't really know much about the group, but surely it wouldn't be that bad? Kyle immediately set out to join them...
