Post by Deleted on May 31, 2013 15:40:20 GMT
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The Basics
Name: Wesley Sortilège
Nickname/Other names: Wes
Gender: m
Age: 36
Hometown: unsure due to memory loss
Canon: Beauty and the Beast
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Outside and the In
Face Claim/PB
Appearance: Wesley likes nice things. He's pretty sure he came from money, because he can usually tell if soemthing is quality on first examination. He's got dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and is lightly tanned. He stands at six foot four, and is well toned, not overly muscular. He is comfortable in more formal wear, such as suits, but a nice pair of slacks and button down will do him fine also. He hates shorts unless he's at a beach somewhere, he thinks they are inappropriate to wear outside, and does not consider them 'real' clothing. He is very still and quiet, unless agitated, then he tends to fidget or move around as if looking for an outlet for the pent up angry energy.
Personality: Wesley has a bit of a bipolar issue. One minute he's all smiles and charm, the next he's a raging lunatic, and unsure of what triggered it. He tends to break things, and anyone who gets in his way of breaking them. He does not accept blame when disaster happens, instead laying the fault on whoever is injured, citing 'They know how I am, they know to back off'. He is in denial of any of his own flaws, and has a definite sense of entitlement. Anything that comes to him that benefits him is merely his due, and he does not consider anything a privilege but his right by simply being. He considers most people common or beneath him, and though he is not sure why he feels this way, he is certain he came from a quality upbringing with all of the rights and riches attached.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Right Up to that Key Moment
History:
Most of his memories are kind of blurry. He does remember early childhood fairly clearly though. He has come to understand major differences between where he was and where his is. The lack of electricity, running water, that kind of thing. He remembers people rising before the day fully dawned, those cool minutes of almost light. The time of day when you don't need a candle, but the sun hadn't fully risen yet. The workday ending when the sun began its slow dip past the horizon. Hay wagons coming past the town gates, full of happy, if tired men, singing local songs and dragging themselves to the tavern to quench their thirst with something stronger than water before going home to their families.
Sneaking rides on hay wagons himself as a small boy, feeling the warm sun on his back, through his clothes, the motion of the wagon rocking him to sleep with the smell of hay around him, freshly cut and so sweet and clean. Mostly though, he remembers things.
Looms, with sturdy women working them, making the fabric that dressed them all. Tables of rare and exotic silks when traveling merchants would visit and set up in the marketplace. Armoires full of fancy clothes, the gold buckles on his shoes, the weight of them...
He also remembers his crown. The feel of it on his head, how he'd strut around, admiring himself in each surface as he'd go by, anything that would cast a reflection. His hair, longer than it is now, trimmed in the front, but the back touching his shoulders, almost curling underneath slightly. It was darker than it is now, he's almost certain.
The only thing he cannot remember is his name. Not his name, nor that of his parents, if they're even still alive, not the name of a single friend or servant. Faces he can see clearly as if they were in front of him, but names elude him, frustrate him and make him want to rage at the world. He can tell he was obviously of the privileged upper class, most likely a prince if his memories are correct, but so much escapes him.
Key Moment: He was riding through the forest at a break neck pace, and fell from his horse. When he woke up he was alone, and everything around him just seemed different.
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A Roleplaying Shift
RP Sample:
Wesley awoke groggy, with a mouth full of dirt. He spat, and wondered why his bed would be full of dirt, until he opened his eyes. Oh...that's right...he was thrown. He would make a note to have that stupid beast turned into horse meat for his hounds, but first he needed to get up.
Disoriented, he staggered, and tried to retrace his path, but found no horse tracks. How long had he been out?
"You won't be able to get out from there," a voice called out cheerfully, and he scowled in that direction.
"Who are you? What do you mean I won't get out from this way? Beyond those trees lies the castle" he demanded, brushing himself off.
"What I mean is, you're not in your own little town anymore, Your Highness. In fact, you're not really even Your Highness anymore, are you? After all, without a kingdom to rule, what use is there of a princely title?"
"If it's ransom you want, kill me now, for I will not go quietly. The king does not pay kidnappers, and when my body is found, he will hunt you down and your punishment will make you pray for a death that will not come swiftly enough!" Wesley eyed the man while he talked, unaware of the others nearby. Until he began to run.
It was the sigh he heard, and remembers most. Rather feminine, and bored. Then the pain. An awful shooting pain that seemed to radiate from his back and spread everywhere, and lasting forever. Then nothing but darkness.
"Honestly, Roger, you really need to learn how to talk to people," the young woman scolded as she holstered her taser. She motioned for the others to bring Wesley along out of the park.
Member Name: undeadwesley
Member Age: 25
Other Characters:none
Tell us a Little About Yourself!: I am just your average Joe, nothing special
The Basics
Name: Wesley Sortilège
Nickname/Other names: Wes
Gender: m
Age: 36
Hometown: unsure due to memory loss
Canon: Beauty and the Beast
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Outside and the In
Face Claim/PB
Appearance: Wesley likes nice things. He's pretty sure he came from money, because he can usually tell if soemthing is quality on first examination. He's got dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and is lightly tanned. He stands at six foot four, and is well toned, not overly muscular. He is comfortable in more formal wear, such as suits, but a nice pair of slacks and button down will do him fine also. He hates shorts unless he's at a beach somewhere, he thinks they are inappropriate to wear outside, and does not consider them 'real' clothing. He is very still and quiet, unless agitated, then he tends to fidget or move around as if looking for an outlet for the pent up angry energy.
Personality: Wesley has a bit of a bipolar issue. One minute he's all smiles and charm, the next he's a raging lunatic, and unsure of what triggered it. He tends to break things, and anyone who gets in his way of breaking them. He does not accept blame when disaster happens, instead laying the fault on whoever is injured, citing 'They know how I am, they know to back off'. He is in denial of any of his own flaws, and has a definite sense of entitlement. Anything that comes to him that benefits him is merely his due, and he does not consider anything a privilege but his right by simply being. He considers most people common or beneath him, and though he is not sure why he feels this way, he is certain he came from a quality upbringing with all of the rights and riches attached.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Right Up to that Key Moment
History:
Most of his memories are kind of blurry. He does remember early childhood fairly clearly though. He has come to understand major differences between where he was and where his is. The lack of electricity, running water, that kind of thing. He remembers people rising before the day fully dawned, those cool minutes of almost light. The time of day when you don't need a candle, but the sun hadn't fully risen yet. The workday ending when the sun began its slow dip past the horizon. Hay wagons coming past the town gates, full of happy, if tired men, singing local songs and dragging themselves to the tavern to quench their thirst with something stronger than water before going home to their families.
Sneaking rides on hay wagons himself as a small boy, feeling the warm sun on his back, through his clothes, the motion of the wagon rocking him to sleep with the smell of hay around him, freshly cut and so sweet and clean. Mostly though, he remembers things.
Looms, with sturdy women working them, making the fabric that dressed them all. Tables of rare and exotic silks when traveling merchants would visit and set up in the marketplace. Armoires full of fancy clothes, the gold buckles on his shoes, the weight of them...
He also remembers his crown. The feel of it on his head, how he'd strut around, admiring himself in each surface as he'd go by, anything that would cast a reflection. His hair, longer than it is now, trimmed in the front, but the back touching his shoulders, almost curling underneath slightly. It was darker than it is now, he's almost certain.
The only thing he cannot remember is his name. Not his name, nor that of his parents, if they're even still alive, not the name of a single friend or servant. Faces he can see clearly as if they were in front of him, but names elude him, frustrate him and make him want to rage at the world. He can tell he was obviously of the privileged upper class, most likely a prince if his memories are correct, but so much escapes him.
Key Moment: He was riding through the forest at a break neck pace, and fell from his horse. When he woke up he was alone, and everything around him just seemed different.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Roleplaying Shift
RP Sample:
Wesley awoke groggy, with a mouth full of dirt. He spat, and wondered why his bed would be full of dirt, until he opened his eyes. Oh...that's right...he was thrown. He would make a note to have that stupid beast turned into horse meat for his hounds, but first he needed to get up.
Disoriented, he staggered, and tried to retrace his path, but found no horse tracks. How long had he been out?
"You won't be able to get out from there," a voice called out cheerfully, and he scowled in that direction.
"Who are you? What do you mean I won't get out from this way? Beyond those trees lies the castle" he demanded, brushing himself off.
"What I mean is, you're not in your own little town anymore, Your Highness. In fact, you're not really even Your Highness anymore, are you? After all, without a kingdom to rule, what use is there of a princely title?"
"If it's ransom you want, kill me now, for I will not go quietly. The king does not pay kidnappers, and when my body is found, he will hunt you down and your punishment will make you pray for a death that will not come swiftly enough!" Wesley eyed the man while he talked, unaware of the others nearby. Until he began to run.
It was the sigh he heard, and remembers most. Rather feminine, and bored. Then the pain. An awful shooting pain that seemed to radiate from his back and spread everywhere, and lasting forever. Then nothing but darkness.
"Honestly, Roger, you really need to learn how to talk to people," the young woman scolded as she holstered her taser. She motioned for the others to bring Wesley along out of the park.
Member Name: undeadwesley
Member Age: 25
Other Characters:none
Tell us a Little About Yourself!: I am just your average Joe, nothing special
