Tarem Salem Sable Apr 12, 2012 23:26:33 GMT -5
Post by robertzbills on Apr 12, 2012 23:26:33 GMT -5
Tarem 'Salem' Sable
" Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones. "
» TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T KNOWALIAS The Iron Wolf
AGE 23, October 10th
POSITION Junior Officer
» YOU'RE IN THEN OUTLOOKS
Tarem wears gray armor plates around the top of his torso and then at the waist a crimson sash along with dark blue garments that are around his neck and makes up his lower garments. His hair is long and pale blonde, his eyes Darkened Green. He also carries with him a broadsword holstered at his waist to symbolize some form of pride in his mind.PERSONALITY Tarem is very civilized, down to the last inch of skin fibers on his body. Spiteful towards those who he deems unable to ascend to a higher state of being,he has made it his job to constantly insult anyone who fails to meet his expectations. He finds delight in the arts whether they be musical or the formal art of writing or painting. Passionate of fighting for the cause he believes in, he constantly reviews strategies he could use in battle against those who stand a threat to his ideals and meaning.
He enjoys reveling in historic wars from the past and occasionally references war speeches to galvanize men before a daunting task. He finds fencing an entertaining sport and constantly challenges those he disagrees with to fight him in it. He has picked up a habit of using old English and uses obsolete words frequently when speaking passionately about certain topics.
- Unintellectual people
- Fights that end too soon
- Planing ahead
- Harm coming to his superiors
- Loosing in a game of wits or fencing
- Gaining a bad reputation
- Dishonor to his family
» MEMORIES, SUPPOSED TO FADERELATIVES Please state your relatives.
Orpheus Salem Sable(Father)
Trinity Victoria Sable(Mother/Deceased)
Victor Xavier Sable (Brother/Deceased)
HISTORY Born from the unintentional death of his mother Trinity and into nobility, Tarem was quite scarred once he was old enough to understand the consequences of his birth. Due to this he never spoke in his young age. His father, Orpheus, constantly tried to bring something out of him, anything even a silent whisper, but it led to no avail. Soon one day when Tarem was the age of 7, Orpheus caught his sons gaze upon a sword rack in his bedroom. He pulled from it the top blade, it was a rapier, and handed it to his son and spoke. "Believe it or not Tarem but these belonged to your Mother, she was quite the fighter and a mean fencer. She had fire deep in her heart and it burned with a greater passion than hell itself could never begin to describe, even to the day she died." Tarem grasped the blade with gentleness and drew it fourth from it's sheath to see the engraving on the blade in Latin. "E-go Pug-nare." Tarem spoke the first words he ever said aloud. "Yes son, it means "I Fight!" His father said with a great boom in his voice somewhat scaring Tarem, too overwhelmed to see his son talk he forgot about Tarems lingering fear. "Do not be afraid anymore son, let me show you the ways of passion your Mother taught me."
Years would pass soon as Tarem would reach the age of 13 and life for him had blossomed, his brother and father now had witnessed the great intellectual that laid beneath the sorrow that had once shrouded him in a shell of anguish and solace. In those years his father had taught him the ways of fencing and had managed to surpass him greatly in a matter of years and soon took up lessons from masters of the art. He would seen pick up a small interest in history and the tactics in fencing that would be derived from it. Soon it would grow to be as large as his passion for fencing. He examined memoirs of soldiers, generals, and leaders from past Empires and the tactics they used in war. His favorite leader would come to be Alexander the Great, for his idea of blending cultures. He barely saw his family due to his constant and never ending fascination with history and it's long and arduous journey to the modern world of today. He and his brother constantly fenced in the courtyard of their living area while their father watched, Victor was always beaten but found joy in watching his brother finally prosper in something he enjoyed in life. Their bond became one of a great and sturdy caliber.
Shoulder to shoulder with his brother Victor now, he was welcomed to his and his Fathers daily routine life at the age of 17. Congregation with other intellectuals such as themselves was common and his ever growing vocabulary thanks to his knowledge and great love for old literature made him quite lustrous with his friends and at times was asked by his father to speak modern English. In one occurrence a fellow man the aristocratic ways and of great audacity had told false information in one group of people about the death of his mother Victoria. He believed it to be bad decision to have taken so much time to get to a hospital that it was the fathers fault in the death of the Mother. This was easily heard by all three of the men who shared the same creed. Victor and Orpheus sought to shrug it off but Tarem's heart was far more gallant, and now was set a light like tinder to an inferno. The second he saw his fathers saddened face he knew he had to fight for his honor. "YOU THERE!" Tarem turned quickly around a cape of crimson floating as if the heat of his anger had risen from his body and pushed it into motion. "YOU DARE SPIT DUPLICITY FOURTH FROM YOUR MOUTH LIKE THAT OF AN ANIMAL THAT SPITS POISON IN THE EYES OF HIS ENEMIES?" "You have no honor, NEIGH DIGNITY TO EVEN BEGIN TO COMPREHEND THE PASSION MY FATHER FELT FOR MY MOTHER, HIS HEART BURNS HOTTER THAN ANY INSIGNIFICANT EMBER THAT COULD EVER TAKE UPON A MANIFESTATION WITHIN THE SLIGHTEST HEATED CHAMBER OF YOUR PATHETIC HEART!" Tarem's quick words were only held in duality as fast as his movements as he would quickly grasp a blade from the belt of another onlooking as now the entire room was gazing upon them whilst he swiftly walked in a fast pace over to the man as he retreated and was mounted on the wall with the blade now parallel to his neck as he began to look with eyes as watered down with tears as a windows. "Thou's blood is not worth the stains, but I shall only warn thee, SPEAK OF MY BLOOD AND I SHALL NO LONGER HOLD BACK THIS ANIMOSITY THAT STEMS WITHIN MY ANGER FAR BEYOND ANY POSSIBLE COMPREHENSION YOUR FEEBLE MIND CAN COMPREHEND!" Seconds later he dropped the blade onto the floor as he began to walk away and head towards the doors of the large congregational area. His Brother and Father followed slowly behind as the man who dared to cross his past with lies now sulked in shambles in the corner grasping his neck over nothing.
Now on the threshold of his second decade of life, his family no longer suffered rude accusations, nor any possible mentioning of such things as the fate of the Mother in their lives. Tarem and Victor now frequently visited festivities held throughout Britannia. The two set their gaze for something that both enjoyed and that was fighting for something. They each made a pact, that one day both of them shall join in the fight to protect Britannia from the evils that threatened it and to forever remain loyal to one another and especially their father. But what fate had in store for the brothers was that similar to a tragedy in Greek writings. A foul bred noble men unlike no other the two brothers had seen before. It was a close relative of the man who had been made a fool at the night of Tarem's peek in anger who sought nothing more then precise revenge. He stalked the two men who weren't accompanied by their Father due to illness, and gazed upon them like a vulture as they made their way outside into the nights cool air breeze. Now was his chance as he darted the brothers way. He quickly twisted his arm which held the dagger into an angle which pierced the heart of Victor as he shouted "DIE FOOL!." Once this cry was let out Tarem was in a blur but quickly snapped at the sight of the dagger whose blade had disappeared into the flesh of his brother. The fight had risen from him once more and he drew from his belt his Mothers blade which he had now worn to formal meetings like this that he concealed ever so slyly. The man gazed at the lengthened steel rapier and dashed back into the congregational home taking his dagger from the wound on Victors chest and letting him fall. Tarem's anger died down for the moment and turned to his brother now in dieing agony. "Brother.." Tarem's silent streak had returned as his eyes peered into his brothers and grasped the bloodied hand of Victors. "Stay the pact brother, I will not make it, please for Mother and Father, and our family, bring us ..honor." Blood swept from his wound where the knives had been withdrawn like the tears now flowing from Tarem's eyes. In his dieing breath Victor released his finally words, his eyes now matched the moons luminescent glow as the pale light radiated off the blood now on Victors chest and in Tarems hands. "BROTHER!" He shouted as he stood up from the body and face now had deformed into that of malice and ill will. He entered in following suite of the man who had stabbed his brother. Screams of terror rang out from the women inside at the sight of blood. "WHERE ARE THEE, COME FROM THOUS LABOR AT HAND TO CONCEAL ONES SELF AND MEET ME AT A FOOT!" From behind a large dagger pierced the upper portion of his right shoulder but reaction was only secondary to Tarem's anger of his loss. He turned around slowly. He faced the man who now stood awe struck by this mans loss of any possible ability to conceive pain. He throttled his rapier across the mans face in a quick strike breaking both the skin on the mans face and the end of his rapier off. The gash ran from the mans forehead to his now heavily wounded eye and was picked from his stance of pain by Tarems grasp of great hatred and pulled him near.
"This gives you appeasement, doesn't it?" He pointed out with his broken blade to the dagger now jotting out of his back. The man had now reply but cries of pain. "YOU SHALL HAVE NONE I SWEAR, BUT THESE MY JOINTS!" Tarem's shouts howled through the area and with one swift jolt of his blade through under the mans ribcage he pierced both his heart and his throat that the blade now stuck out from the mans jugular. Tarem's eyes now glowed as red as his brothers blood. From that night on, his great power and use of anger led him to be known as the Iron Wolf by those who had witnessed the occurrence and spread it to others.
Three years would pass and his Brother lye buried next to his Mother. Things like this would normally turn men into callous lumps of indifference and death seeking fools. But for Tarem it made him grow into something more. His passion, his will power, and his urge to live grew ever stronger. He no longer sought solace, he sought honor and pride, he sought a chance to prove himself and the hopes to one day write upon the books of history his legacy which would be looked upon by others and revered as a great man. Now deep within the royal forces of Britannia, Tarem seeks to prove his worth to all of Britannia and become what he praised the most, a passionate Fighter, and Leader. He now wore a broad sword around his waist to symbolize his strength and his even stronger passion.
» WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOUNAME Tower
RP-HISTORY 3 1/2 years
SAMPLE 4 men endowed with sharp blades of speed and deadliness now faced the out matched Jester. Their skill in combat and prowess in tactics belittled this mans lively hood and forte. He cartwheeled backwards landing on his hands to further distance himself from the men who showed interest but still held malicious intentions towards him. They once again encircled him in an instance. "This is quite entertaining!" the Jester boomed as he landed softly on his legs. "NOW!" one man shouted as the two diagonal to each other tried to pinch the jester in between their blades but would instead meet the demise of one another. The Jester slid away in a quick directional change of his shoulders as the men gazed into each others eyes and fell dead on the floor from the wounds inflicted upon one another. "YOU SNAKE!" One of the men shouted in anger as the remaining two now faced a seemingly more intelligent Jester then thought to be before. "Hush, now watch as I turn the odds much like myself on it's head!" as the jester grasped himself and fell backwards straight on his head like a totem pole almost a the man nearest to him swung his blade. "NO!" the other cried but it was too late the Jester fell all the way down and jolted back up punching underneath the mans exposed armpit which had the sword in it. The man would scream in agony, the punch had dislocated his shoulder whilst the jester swung the mans now limp arm into the man himself and piercing his stomach. He would grasp a sword from the ground and now face off the remaining challenger. "Do you wish to end up as worms food as the others have or shall you submit!" The jester chuckled with a smile as he brought the blade ever closer to the mans neck that he neglected to guard due to his great amazement with this mans quick thinking. He remained silent. "I'll take that as a no." The jester sneeringly said as the last thing seen and felt by the man would be a blur of silver and the sting of steel in his neck.