Post by narimonk on Feb 9, 2007 18:15:05 GMT -5
Rider
Full Name:Narimon Kardani ( real Name: Usta'Lam Ta)
Race:Human
Side:Eragon
Birthplace:Beor Mountains
Age:14
Gender:Male
Birthday september 23
Eyes (Color, etc):Brown
Hair (Color, style, length etc):Black hair in short spikes about 1 and 1/2 Inches of the head.
Weight (in pounds):120
Height (feet, inches):5"4
Magic User:Yes
Clothing:Red Clothing all around with a golden Fire showing his clan symbol on his tunic
Weapons:Andlat, Andlat is black and is his rider blade it once belonged to Galbatorix.
Personality:,
Likes:Dragons,Running,Women
Dislikes:Politics,Murtagh,Galbatorix even though he is deased
Family:None that he knows of.
Brief History (make it realistic):When narimion was walking in his home town of farthen Dur he had looked in a bush and he found a black dragon egg and it then hatched when Galbatorix died ( Assumingly if it is Okay) He stumbled upon his blade when he was in the palace when he swished it around Nausauda had seen it and gave it to him he then. He named his Dragon Shurikan ( I know it's Kinda G*y Oh well get over it) He is currently waiting for his training.
Anything Extra (If you have anything that we didn't have on the form that you would like to be known about your character):
RP SAMPLE :Quiet reigned in the meadow where Narimon had dozed off. The sky was blue and cloud-free allowing him to really space out and think. So many months had passed since that day in the snows long ago. He unconsciously thumbed his scarf, aware that the weather was changing. The bonsai sat in front of him, wilting from lack of attention in the past few weeks. The amount of information he’d had to process had kept him up until dawn more days than not. He sighed and stood, careful not to brush the dying tree. A lead about his mother’s death held precedence over a stupid exercise in patience. Who knew where his next mission might lead him, or what new information might hearken to his ear? Life grew more taxing every day. He needed to finish this so that his mother’s spirit might rest in peace.
A slight breeze wisped hair across his brow and he wiped it away casually. Tears had formed in the corner of his eyes at the thought of his mother touching him then, through the wind and the sun and the sky. Who could say why he’d thought of her just then? A generation might pass before anyone found the answer to that question, let alone any answer to the questions he had still. The air grew still and his face, hard. His right hand methodically removed the tears from his face while his left became a balled fist. To quote an old family saying, “Duty is heavier than the ocean, death is lighter than the sky.” He had to finish what he’d started or die trying. His honor demanded it; all other things had no value. Burying his emotions he turned and ran back into the village to prepare for the snows.
His parent’s house had a cheery deception. He left it that way lest he forgot why he needed answers. It still confuses every person who comes through that door, he thought to himself while shuttering the windows. How could such a depressing person stand living somewhere so cheery? That did not matter, though he’d enough humor left to silently laugh at their expressions. He stopped by the kitchen table and set upon it a bowl of oranges and apples. Health was almost as much of an obsession to him as information. Life was a riddle and it needed puzzling out, but one had to be well enough to do so. He stopped, lost in thought again, his hand just brushing a picture of his family before his father left. A knock at the door broke his trance and he turned to the door.
Full Name:Narimon Kardani ( real Name: Usta'Lam Ta)
Race:Human
Side:Eragon
Birthplace:Beor Mountains
Age:14
Gender:Male
Birthday september 23
Eyes (Color, etc):Brown
Hair (Color, style, length etc):Black hair in short spikes about 1 and 1/2 Inches of the head.
Weight (in pounds):120
Height (feet, inches):5"4
Magic User:Yes
Clothing:Red Clothing all around with a golden Fire showing his clan symbol on his tunic
Weapons:Andlat, Andlat is black and is his rider blade it once belonged to Galbatorix.
Personality:,
Likes:Dragons,Running,Women
Dislikes:Politics,Murtagh,Galbatorix even though he is deased
Family:None that he knows of.
Brief History (make it realistic):When narimion was walking in his home town of farthen Dur he had looked in a bush and he found a black dragon egg and it then hatched when Galbatorix died ( Assumingly if it is Okay) He stumbled upon his blade when he was in the palace when he swished it around Nausauda had seen it and gave it to him he then. He named his Dragon Shurikan ( I know it's Kinda G*y Oh well get over it) He is currently waiting for his training.
Anything Extra (If you have anything that we didn't have on the form that you would like to be known about your character):
RP SAMPLE :Quiet reigned in the meadow where Narimon had dozed off. The sky was blue and cloud-free allowing him to really space out and think. So many months had passed since that day in the snows long ago. He unconsciously thumbed his scarf, aware that the weather was changing. The bonsai sat in front of him, wilting from lack of attention in the past few weeks. The amount of information he’d had to process had kept him up until dawn more days than not. He sighed and stood, careful not to brush the dying tree. A lead about his mother’s death held precedence over a stupid exercise in patience. Who knew where his next mission might lead him, or what new information might hearken to his ear? Life grew more taxing every day. He needed to finish this so that his mother’s spirit might rest in peace.
A slight breeze wisped hair across his brow and he wiped it away casually. Tears had formed in the corner of his eyes at the thought of his mother touching him then, through the wind and the sun and the sky. Who could say why he’d thought of her just then? A generation might pass before anyone found the answer to that question, let alone any answer to the questions he had still. The air grew still and his face, hard. His right hand methodically removed the tears from his face while his left became a balled fist. To quote an old family saying, “Duty is heavier than the ocean, death is lighter than the sky.” He had to finish what he’d started or die trying. His honor demanded it; all other things had no value. Burying his emotions he turned and ran back into the village to prepare for the snows.
His parent’s house had a cheery deception. He left it that way lest he forgot why he needed answers. It still confuses every person who comes through that door, he thought to himself while shuttering the windows. How could such a depressing person stand living somewhere so cheery? That did not matter, though he’d enough humor left to silently laugh at their expressions. He stopped by the kitchen table and set upon it a bowl of oranges and apples. Health was almost as much of an obsession to him as information. Life was a riddle and it needed puzzling out, but one had to be well enough to do so. He stopped, lost in thought again, his hand just brushing a picture of his family before his father left. A knock at the door broke his trance and he turned to the door.
