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 Kane - wherlander/ smuggler/ sniper

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PostSubject: Kane - wherlander/ smuggler/ sniper   Thu Mar 19, 2015 12:09 am

Player Name: SylverAngel/ Jess
Character Number: 3
Last Updated: 3-14-16


Character Name and Pronunciation: Kane [Cayn] / Jorinabel [JOR-in-ay-buhl] (Abel [Ay-buhl])
Gender: male
Character Rank: Wherhandler, Sniper/ Tracker
Character Age/Date of birth: 27/ (December 8, 1987), Black Rock Hold

Father - Rojor - 52 - journeyman beastcrafter
Mother - Belina - 48 - journeyman healer
Sister - Beljora - 29 - sr. apprentice weaver
Brother - Robel - 25 - sr. apprentice beastcrafter
Sister - Rejina - 23 - kitchen worker

Current location: White Lightning Weyr
Physical description:
Kane would stand close to 6 feet tall if he didn't have to alter his stance and walk with a limp, the result of a life-altering accident that occurred when he was around 19 turns old.  Despite the disfigurement, he still cuts an imposing figure when he straightens as much as he can-- the way he slightly leans forward only serves to make him appear more menacing to those who are shorter, as if he's deliberately leaning into their space.  He is well-muscled, but not overly bulky, and surprisingly light on his feet.  The accident may have robbed him of a good deal of his speed and agility, but he's learned to compensate by moving more slowly, with precision and purpose.

Because of his injury, most people are likely to meet Kane when he's sitting down, or leaning into a nicely spaced rock to hold his arms steady as he locks onto his target, hidden within the shadows.  His icy blue eyes, disheveled dark hair, and usual need for a shave suggest he's one of the bad boys girls' mothers warn them about.  The type that will take all a woman can give, and leave nothing in return.  The type who's more likely to cut a man's throat and steal his purse than to sit down to a peaceful dinner with his family.  And indeed, he more than likely has the reputation for doing so, whether he's actually done such a thing or not.  A person won't find out from him, as any questions about his misdeeds are usually met with nothing but a wicked smirk.

As one would expect of a thread-spawned demon, he dresses mostly in black, the better to hide from his quarry, whether it be human or animal.  Other neutral tones may be employed if he needs to blend in to other surroundings without the cover of shadow, but he prefers the way the black hides his obvious impairment until he begins to move.  Plus, it provides more cover for the couple of knives he is never without.

Additional weapons of note are the bow and arrows he might use to hunt, as well as the cane he occasionally still needs.  Though he prefers not to use it to walk, he will take advantage of others who may underestimate his abilities due to its presence when necessary.

Play By: Ian Somerhalder
Photo Reference: http://www.imdb.com/media/rm2764472832/nm0813812?ref_=nmmi_mi_all_evt_304
There was a time when Kane was a happy young man who had everything to look forward to.  He had a loving family, girls when he wanted them, and the enjoyment of having found his life's calling early.  He loved working with runners, took it as his personal mission to 'fix' those that needed a little extra coaxing, be it to help with recovery from an injury or abuse, or just to tame a wild heart.

But the accident that left him with an obvious limp scarred him far worse emotionally than it did physically.

He could have taken it in stride, bounced back stronger than ever despite the injury.  But instead, he let the pity he saw in everyone's eyes drag him down.  He rejected the help his family was trying to give, though most of it was so over the top, he couldn't stand to be around them.  He could fend for himself, shard it all, and he set out to prove it.

Now, he hardly sees any of his family members, refusing to acknowledge his siblings on the off chance he runs into them.  Though it's unlikely to happen due to his job, and what would most likely be their disapproval of it, he's still come across his brother and sisters a time or two at a tavern he used to frequent.

Gone is the easy going, patient boy they knew, and in his place is a brooding and dangerous man, one who cultivates his reputation as no one to mess with.  He hardly smiles, though wicked smirks cross his lips from time to time, a baring of teeth that lets the viewer know they may be his next prey.

In truth, Kane embraces the menacing look his injury has given him over time, using it both to intimidate and to trick others into a false sense of security that they are dealing with someone incapable of taking them on.  He seems to take great pleasure in proving that he neither weak, nor a pushover, something that has earned him his place among Avidian's men and women.

He usually only speaks when necessary, preferring to use his size and attitude over words.  He also understands the value of information, and only passes it off when either the price is right, or he knows it will be to his advantage to do so.  It's likely he has no true friends, though there are those who have earned his loyalty, and he'd hope he's earned theirs in return.  But he also knows that that trust is likely to be bought for the right price, and it's always possible he could be betrayed given the right incentive.  Such is the life of a sniper and smuggler.

Despite his obvious tough guy demeanor, Kane still has an affinity for animals.  He tends to prefer their company over that of his fellow humans-- none of the runners pitied him when he was injured, nor did they share any of the pretense and coddling his family foisted on him during his recovery.  No, animals show only their true selves, and return only unconditional love and loyalty when they are treated right.  They don't lie or hide what they're really feeling just because they think another being doesn't want to see or hear it.

Strangely enough, this affinity might also extend to young people who have a hard time relating to adults.  Teenagers, especially, and it's possible Avidian can use this trait to his own advantage in keeping the loyalty of those around him.

Theme song: "Traitor" by Daughtry; "Welcome to the Bottom" by Vertical Horizon
Jorinabel was born the son of a journeyman beastcrafter and a journeyman healer.  Both of his parents worked hard for the Hold they called home, yet they stll found time for their children.  None of the four was favored, though it was clear their father held a certain amount of pride in his strong young sons.  Hoping they'd find it within themselves to follow in his footsteps, he brought them along to help with the runners he cared for as soon as they were able to understand-- and respect-- the dangers of working with the animals.  Abel was 6 when he was first allowed to help, while his younger brother had to wait until he was 8, due to his more unpredictable and excitable nature.

Perhaps it was the result of the extra time he'd been given with his father and the runners, or maybe it was simply a matter of natural talent, but Abel soon began to exhibit an obvious affinity for the animals.  His presence seemed to calm them, his low-voiced words soothing even the most skittish among them.  His careful, deliberate movements allowed him to get closer to the worst-tempered animals than any of the other handlers, and he seemed to know the exact moment it was safe to approach, somehow receiving signals from the runners that no one else could see or hear.

Much to his father's delight, the master in charge of the creatures of the Hold was only too willing to take Abel on as an apprentice.  Feeling as if working with the runners was what he was born to do, the young boy he was then met the challenge head on, absorbing all he could from his new teacher.  He was a diligent student, putting into practice the new tricks he learned, and even modifying some of them to better suit the animal he was dealing with.  He learned about genetics and breeding, the signs of ill health and old age, the best type of feed for different stages of life.  He took in the various desirable conformations, depending on the task, learned different methods for training for each.  He soaked it all up like a sponge, implementing his own ideas amongst the tried-and-true ways that had been passed down through the generations.

Indeed, his ability to handle the runners only seemed to grow the more immersed in the beastcraft he became.  He moved fairly quickly through the ranks of apprenticeship and even took some of the younger students under his wing-- those who struggled but were determined to succeed.

And all the while, his brother could do nothing to catch up, remaining in Abel's shadow as he wasn't as quick to catch on to concepts, nor was he as capable with the animals themselves.  Of course, that didn't mean Robel needed to change crafts, since he was actually progressing at a more normal rate compared to his older sibling.  And Abel never made him feel bad for it-- but Robel was determined he would be just as good, if not better, than his brother.

It was Robel's overconfidence, in fact, that changed everything.

On the verge of earning his journeyman's knots, Abel returned to the stables one evening for another look at a mare he was expecting to go into labor at any moment.  Finding the stall for one of the most problematic young stallions to be empty, the young man exited the building to figure out just where the runner had gone.

Stamping hooves drew his attention to one of the training pens, and he realized someone had taken the animal out to work with it.  But that someone was obviously not experienced enough at working with such a wild hearted creature, as the runner was balking at every attempt to rein it in.

Heading towards the pen to see if he could be of any help, he knew the moment the handler lost control and launched himself over the fence.  What happened next was a blur he barely remembered later-- he thought he tried to distract the runner from where it was chasing the other person, but it hardly worked.  When the animal reared back and began to kick out, Abel threw himself in front of the other handler, shoving his brother-- his brother!-- to safety.  But in that moment of recognition, he misjudged the runner's likely trajectory and went down in the dirt beneath its hooves.

Thankfully, the master Abel had been working with and a couple of the other apprentices were just returning to also check in on the animals, and they helped wrangle the stallion and called for help.

Robel was clearly horrified at what had occurred, but he could say nothing through the haze of pain that had taken over Abel's mind and finally dragged him down into the dark of unconsciousness.

It was hit or miss for a few days as his internal injuries healed.  Somehow, the runner had managed to miss most of his vital organs, but his bones were another story.  The healers weren't sure he'd be able to walk again, given the extent of the damage done to his right hip, pelvis, and leg.  But they did their best to set everything as well as possible, and took him through extensive therapy to regain as much mobility as he could.

He walked the tables from his bed in the infirmary a couple of sevendays after the accident, though the achievement was bittersweet.  He'd seen the pity in the eyes of his master and the other beastcrafters, and wondered if his earning journeyman rank was simply a formality now.  At that time, no one knew just how far he would get, and a runner handler that couldn't walk would be pretty useless as anything but a teacher.  Abel had never wanted to sit back and watch while everyone else handled the animals, though he feared he would be consigned to do so for the rest of his life.

Through it all, his family showered him with love and encouragement.  They all took turns visiting him in the infirmary, brought him news of life in the Hold and stables, tales of what was going on elsewhere on Pern.  His father told him of the foal that had been born to the mare they'd all been keeping an eye on.  His mother continued to watch over him when she wasn't on duty.  His sisters brought him sweets and his own blankets and clothing.  And his idiot brother apologized profusely for his own foolish actions.  But Abel soon grew sick of the younger man's words.  He grew tired of all of them, of the pity they refused to let him see.

He knew it was there, knew they looked at him and saw nothing but his injury.  Just like all of the healers, and everyone else who happened to stop by.  They might pretend they didn't feel it, but he knew better.  Who wouldn't look at him and see nothing but a pathetic, useless, boy?

Angry at the world and wanting nothing more than to get out of the blasted infirmary, Abel channeled his fury into the exercises the healers gave him to perform.  He was determined to prove them all wrong, to prove that he would, indeed, walk again.  And he would be one of the best sharding beastcrafers the Hold had ever seen.

But life had other ideas, it seemed.  Because he did prove to them he could walk.  The day he left the infirmary under his own power felt even greater than the moment he earned his journeyman's knots.  And perhaps that was the reason he mostly left his craft behind.

More often than not completely fed up with his family's coddling and constant hovering, and wanting to escape the eyes of others that followed him everywhere, Abel began frequenting a nearby tavern in the hopes of either drowning his physical and emotional pain, or loosing his anger upon some unsuspecting chump who decided he looked like an easy target.  Of course, he made a fool of himself the first couple of times he tried the latter, forgetting his balance and movement had been compromised.  But it only served as fuel for the fire and inspired him to push himself to the limits of his endurance and pain levels.  

It wasn't easy.  Re-learning how to do the simple task of walking had cost him many an hour of stress and frustration.  But he'd persevered through that because he'd had a mission, a goal.  And here, he had a new one-- he was going to prove he wasn't weak, that he could take any of the meanest men in the tavern.  A lofty goal, to be sure, given his sorry state.  But he turned down no contenders, no matter how bruised he was afterwards.  Of course, they seemed to eventually make sport of him, clearly amused at his attempts.

But one day, someone took pity on him-- a man whose runner Abel had helped at a Gather once, when the animal had sprained something during a race.  Erint frequented the tavern rarely, for personal reasons.  He wasn't the most skilled fighter, but he knew enough to get by, having grown up in the school of hard knocks, himself.  His father had been a smuggler, his mother one of the tavern's wenches.  Both were long gone, his father killed in a deal gone wrong (supposedly), and his mother lost to disease.  He'd grown up just another one of the children of the tavern, one who had to fight for everything he was given, so the older bullies wouldn't steal it.  And now that he'd made something more of himself as a runner jockey, he rarely visited the place of his birth.

It was fortunate he did that night, seeing as he knew he could return the favor Abel had bestowed on him, once he recognized the bitter and wounded young man as the gifted beastcrafter he'd met by chance.  In exchange for help nursing an orphan runner back to health-- he could see Abel was too proud to accept help otherwise-- Erint helped him learn how to better control his muscles, and find ways around his injury.  Mostly, he let Abel prove that he could do what he set out to, that he wasn't always going to be beaten.  There was no real method to his teaching, other than going rounds with the younger man and providing punching bags for him to use.  Eventually, it worked, though it was some 6 months of physical labor that brought Abel mostly back into shape-- he'd moved on from helping the young runner, to caring for Erint's racer and a couple of other animals.  Mucking out stables, hauling feed, anything physical that helped take keep his body busy enough that he forgot to think.

Of course, the process hadn't kept Abel out of trouble the entire time he'd been working with Erint.  But he'd gotten better, had managed to get in a few good shots on nights when some interaction with his family sent him down a bad path.  By the time those 6 months were up, though, he was mostly able to hold his own, had even beaten a couple of the men who taunted him the most.  The fact that he'd employed his walking cane as a weapon those times earned him the moniker he now prefers over his own name.

Seeing their son and brother physically doing so well, his family began to hound him about working with runners again.  He knew it would be too painful to try to ride.  Plus, he couldn't move quickly enough anymore to train them.  That mostly left the work he'd been doing for Erint-- the grunt work. Not the work a journeyman should be doing.  And what good was that, when what he truly enjoyed had been taking care of the skittish ones-- teaching them to trust a human, and allow him close.  Something he hadn't been able to do since his injury due to the shuffling gait of his leg, its inability to bend properly, and the cane he still often used to move around.

"Give it time," his family members encouraged.  But he didn't want to be patient, wait for more healing to occur.  He wanted his life back _now_.  He'd come so far, but it was clearly not enough.  And likely would never be.

His sisters claimed he was hiding, was making up excuses.  His brother was finally getting along well with runners, doing almost, but not quite, as well as Abel had done.  His father would hardly speak to him for how harshly he'd spoken his mother once.  His mother… continued to hope her son would come back to her.

But he couldn't handle it, didn't believe they truly meant well.  They'd only begun to change when he had, when it was clear he could have some sort of future, even if it wasn't exactly the one he'd been working towards.  Sometimes he wondered if they wished he was still the same bedridden cripple with nothing to look forward to…

In his heart, he didn't really believe it, but it was his head, full of bitterness and resentment for all he'd lost, despite the gains he'd made, that wouldn't listen.

One particular night a turn or so after he'd finally made some headway with the bullies at the tavern (who now had a new respect for his walking aid, and referred to him by its name), he'd been attempting to drown out the voices of his brother and parents and had a little too much.  His head resting on the table, apparently asleep and maybe drooling a little, he caught the attention of a new face in the tavern, one who decided he was the easiest target to be relieved of his marks.  A cripple, with that cane nearby, and out-cold drunk, to boot?  Easy pickings.  But the kid soon learned the error of his ways, as Kane slammed his knife down between the boy's fingers on the table before he'd gotten anywhere near the pouch of coins.

Unaware this had drawn attention from another direction, Kane was then surprised to be approached by a young woman who wasn't easily driven off by his surliness or the threat of the same knife he'd used to drive away the would-be thief.  He wasn't going to turn down her offer of food (and another drink to go with it), even if it did have pity attached to it-- she'd had guts so far, and seemed impressed by his skill with the knife.  Who was he to tell a pretty girl to get lost when she seemed to want to pay him some attention?

Of course, he wasn't too devastated when she left for the night-- it had been fun to flirt and ignore the pain in his leg for a time.  But it seemed fate meant for them to cross paths again over the next few months.  And he apparently proved his worth on whatever mental scale she was measuring him by, for one night she started telling him about some odd jobs she thought he might be able to handle.

Intrigued, he took her up on the offers, pushing himself when necessary so as not to appear weak to anyone else he was working with.  His willingness to take on the dangerous situations, as well as his completion of the tasks, earned him an interview with the young woman's father, a ruthless man who took loyalty all too seriously.  And yet, here were people who treated him as if he was normal… as if his injury was simply a part of him, and nothing that stood out.  Perhaps it was because they didn't know the boy he once was.  Or perhaps it was because his performance on the job overrode everything else.  Whichever the case, Kane was glad to have a purpose again, even if he couldn't say the new position had necessarily earned him friends.

His skills with animals were put to good use in learning to stalk people from the shadows, as he knew how to remain quiet and unseen, to move stealthily, if not more slowly than he used to be able to, and keep an eye on his quarry.  It wasn't always humans he hunted, either, as the smugglers often needed to hunt to obtain fresh meat (and maybe some feline pelts) for themselves.  He picked up using a bow as quickly as he had everything else, becoming so proficient with it that he was soon taken along on dealings with other 'business' men as a silent watcher for trouble, one who could take out or injure an enemy from the shadows as necessary.

Due to his line of work, and by choice, Kane doesn't see his family much.  He checks up on them to make sure they are doing well, but he knows they wouldn't approve of what he's done with his life.  Serving 6-7 turns with a group of smugglers is certainly not what they'd have wanted for him, but he likes his life the way it is, and he's not about to let them try to convince him to live it differently.  It's also safer for them, this way, his subconscious knows.  They're less likely to be targets for retaliation against him if he keeps his distance.

As for the young woman, it was fairly obvious the flirting would eventually lead to more, even if it was only a temporary diversion.  Since then, he and Dividia have had an on-again/ off-again arrangement, mostly where they're on if it's convenient and desirable for both.  They know what to expect from each other, and likely understand that no pretense is necessary between them.  Kane never lets their current situation affect his work, though, and she likely does the same.  Whether it affects other relationships either of them have is likely another story, though.

Craft: Beastcraft
Rank: journeyman, though it felt like an honorary title given out of pity
Training location: Black Rock Hold under the master there
Specialty: runners

Wher Art credited to Lady Tragedy on DeviantArt.  Coloring by Sevillalost
Name: Kanesk
Color: Bronze
Speech Hex Code: f0a138
Impression date:
Physical description: reddish based hide, with deep burnished undertones and highlights that almost look golden.  A living flame.
Personality: Strong-willed, independent.  Fights Kane for dominance and has done so since he hatched.

Last edited by SylverAngel on Mon Mar 14, 2016 1:45 pm; edited 4 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: Kane - wherlander/ smuggler/ sniper   Sat Mar 21, 2015 8:32 am

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