This is Before Robert Baratheon's Rebellion, where we recreating the story and journey itself where Robert Baratheon never becomes king.

Log in

I forgot my password


visit Forumotion

Forumotion on Facebook Forumotion on Twitter Forumotion on YouTubeForumotion on Google+

RPG-D Swords of Speirling

Latest topics

» The Aldune Household
Darien Draelis I_icon_minitimeThu Jun 08, 2017 2:44 pm by Bri

» The Dragon's Secrets
Darien Draelis I_icon_minitimeSat Jun 03, 2017 11:35 pm by Darla Windborn

» Hidden Secret White Dragon
Darien Draelis I_icon_minitimeSat Jun 03, 2017 10:48 pm by Bri

» Rome Aldune(WIP)
Darien Draelis I_icon_minitimeTue May 16, 2017 9:29 am by Rome

» Breaking the Silence
Darien Draelis I_icon_minitimeSun Apr 30, 2017 7:48 pm by Elira

» Introduce yourself
Darien Draelis I_icon_minitimeTue Apr 18, 2017 3:09 pm by ZeroOrgan

» Cassie's Plots
Darien Draelis I_icon_minitimeSun Apr 09, 2017 9:32 pm by Cassie

» Ashara D'Han
Darien Draelis I_icon_minitimeSun Apr 09, 2017 8:16 pm by sub_rosa

» Sub's Plots
Darien Draelis I_icon_minitimeWed Apr 05, 2017 6:12 pm by sub_rosa

Who is online?

In total there is 1 user online :: 0 Registered, 0 Hidden and 1 Guest


[ View the whole list ]

Most users ever online was 15 on Sat Feb 18, 2017 9:08 am

    Darien Draelis


    Posts : 8
    Join date : 2017-01-30

    Darien Draelis Empty Darien Draelis

    Post by Shadow on Tue Jan 31, 2017 1:01 am

    Darien Draelis 1654214-ruben_cortada_longhair


    Name:  Darien Draelis

    Titled Name: None, though mockingly called Ser Darien The Wingless

    Age: 22


    Darien is a complicated, and troubled youth. He is a proud young man, who holds himself with as much ferocity and status as the high lords of Westeros, despite the meager holdings he is set to inherit. For he remembers his family words, and the stories of the once glorious riders of his house. He grew up listening to tales of his family all the way back to the Age of Heroes, and he remembers, and his blood boils in anger because of it. All around him he has seen his house fall into ruin, as generation after generation have done nothing to rectify the name that was burned into all but ash by Aegon II. It is this fire, this overwhelming desire to see his house restored and his family name polished clean from the tarnish which has over taken it which drives Darien. If one understands that, one begins to understand Darien.

    As proud as he is, Darien is also still sensible, and slow to anger. He knows that he is often mocked, he knows that many men consider themselves his better, and he accepts their ridicule. Instead of lashing out, or shouting like an impetuous child about his families honors and dignity he lets it steep inside of him as a low burning anger which pushes him further, and through any misery and hardship he must endure. That is not to say he does not have a temper, but only that he is very skilled at controlling it and keeping his mind calm, especially in battle.

    He is a serious young man, every day he trains himself in the martial ways of his forefathers, wielding duel long swords. But deep down, below all the outward projections of Lord Darien, and the aspirations of reclaiming the honor of his house, he is a spirited youth. At night he is most often found reading one of the tomes of the stories of the days of heroes, or of the Targaryens, or even more often, the history and legends of his own forefathers. He has an adventure's heart, and when he comes upon a new place or sees something that takes his breath away all of the stern features and harsh outside seem to melt into a youth so enraptured and in love with the world that he could almost be called naive or a dreamer.  

    Birth Place: Storm's Eye

    House Of: Draelis

    House Sigil:

    A hideous wyvern, the color of spoiled blood, a deep dark red, swooping downwards. Its beady eyes black like jet, and its mouth opened, showing the bottom row of a dozen dull grey fangs.

    Mental Attributes

    Mental: Mentally he is quite strong, stubborn but cool headed for the most part. His love of history and of battles have left him with a cunning mind for strategy and his natural distrust of the world has made him wise to the thieves and liars of the world. He is quick witted, and observant, though not always easy to change his mind.

    Physical Skills: If you asked Darien, he would tell you there was no finer swordsman alive. He wields two Valerian Steel long swords, one in either hand, and has a castle forged bastard sword on his back which he is almost as skilled with. He is a agile and muscled youth, though more toned than overly bulky. He is light on his feet, and he swings his twin swords with unnatural grace and precision for what should be such unwieldy blades. Ever since he was old enough to swing a sword he has trained with first wooden, and then long swords with lead cores for as long as four hours a day. If there was one area he was not skilled though it would be archery. A decent enough shot to hunt down birds in the forest, or perhaps a deer, he could scarcely be relied upon to hit a man in the midst of combat.  

    Social Skills: Darien's weakest area. His sullen feature, serious demeanor, and proud manners have left him with little in the way of being able to make friends. He sees the world as his enemy, and the world returns the gaze. Seldom does he find someone who his rough edges do not put off, and only those who take great pains to get to know him ever find a reason to be loyal. Proud, stubborn, and with a grimace against the world, it is little wonder most people seem to despise Darien, The Wingless.



    The house of Draelis can trace its ancestry back to Andreas Darelis, The Dread Worm, one of the figures from the Age of Heroes. It is said that he was a merchant from Asshai who had tamed dark beasts from beyond the Shadow Lands, but during a great storm his ship was shot far off course and he landed with what remained of his great trading galley upon Westeros. However, all that is truly known is that he brought with him the great leathery Wyvern's for which the Draelis family was famed, and founded what was once one of the most powerful families in the Seven Kingdoms.

    The Wyvern's where great hideous beasts, their bodies like that of a long worm with disproportionately huge mouths, and a half dozen small black beady eyes. Their bodies where of a thick leathery feel, hard as the strongest of leathers, but covered in a strange slime which oozed from the tops of their backs down around them that made everything they touched stick to them. Their saddles did not even need to be fastened, and it was said their riders could even walk upon their backs mid flight, where the slime was thickest. The largest ones grew big enough for them to swoop a horse straight into the air in their dark talons, and their wings where like that of a bats, and they seemed to be almost nocturnal from the way they squealed in pain when on a clear sunny day.

    The Draelis Clan used these Wyvern's for thousands of years, and eventually joined with the kings of the Stormlands, allowing them to be the strength of the ground, while they became the strength in the sky. However, the Draelis clan protected and hoarded their Wyverns, only ever allowing those with a direct blood connection to ever have one of their great beasts. As such at most only a dozen or two dozen Wyvern's ever took to the sky in a single generation, and in most, that number was less. Every rider was given two Wyvern's, and any extra offspring, or ones which where born weak or deformed, where killed so they would never fall into the hands of others, or breed wildly.

    And so their family existed, powerful, strong, and filled with ties to a great house which treated them closer to equals than subjects, having been united by marriage and not conquest. But that all changed the year Aegon and his Dragons landed upon Westeros.

    Valkahr took the call of King Argilac the Arrogant, and flew out with all of his Wyvern's to meet the Dragon menace. Sixteen Wyvern's flew high above the armies of the Storm King, and Valkahr and his kin had every intention to do battle with the invaders, that was until Orys Baratheon took to the sky atop his great dragon. The Wyvern's shrieked and flew low, circling underneath the dragon, refusing to fight. From the moment they laid their eyes upon it, the Wyverns would only serve the Dragons in fear. It was said that Valkahr's unwitting treachery is the reason the Storm Kings lost their home, and it was because King Argilac had believed they would hold the skies with his Wyvern's he had even given battle.  But, Valkahr could only do as his Wyvern's demanded he do, he bowed without a fight to Orys, and then to Aegon.

    From that day forward, every generation of Draelis would supply the greatest of their children, and the most fierce of their wyverns to serve in the king's guard. Their families fighting style of fighting with two swords having been the most prized and applauded swordsmanship in the seven kingdoms, a mix of the strength knighthood and the elegance Bravosian Water Dancing. That was until the Dance of Dragons.

    When Aegon II usurped the throne, Andreas VII fled his from King's Landing atop his Wyvern to join Queen Rhaenyra and defend her claim to the throne. He called his families banner, and urged all of their Wyvern riders to join him. But Aegon II was already marching upon their castle, and his brother Valkahr IV took up arms for Aegon. Their house split, and a third of their Wyverns died that day as those who supported Andreas and Rhaenyra tried to flee, and Valkahr and his men tried to stop them. It was said that the blood of Wyvern's fell upon Aegon II army as they approached, like a great red rain.

    By the time the war had ended, twenty Wyverns and 6,000 men had turned to three wyverns, and 700 men at arms remaining. After the fighting had stopped, two of Aegon II's Dragons had died mostly to the hands of Wyverns and Andreas, apparently the only thing able to make their Wyvern's fight Dragons was other Dragons they fought for. In his fury for the loss of his Dragons Aegon II ordered the last of Valkahr's Wyverns to be slaughtered, and stripped his family of the eggs they still had, feeding them to his Dragons, saying such was the price of a treasonous house must pay.

    After that, the Draelis house fell more and more into disarray. For three more generations they served in the King's Guard, until even that honor was stripped away. Now, they are mostly forgotten, their children barely called lords, and none of their house ever Knighted properly.

    Rumors: Ser Arthur Dayne had been steward at Storm's Eye to learn their two handed fighting style and it is rumored that during that time he had an affair the Lord's daughter, resulting in a bastard offspring in Darien. This is largely fueled by the fact that his own father never had much of a public life, and died before Darien was born, causing some to claim that such a person never existed and Darien was adopted as legal child because otherwise the family line would have perished.

    Known In Public:  Most do not know him in public. The sigil of his house has all but faded from the memories of most, except the oldest and the most studious of citizens. As such mostly he gets curious looks, mistakenly called Ser, or Mi'lord. But those that do know, tend to look upon him with mocking contempt for the weakness of his father, the shame of his house, and the dilapidated state of his lands. The last lordling, the earth worm, and whatever else the half minded fools of court can come up with. His standoffish nature also earns him little love among others, no those few who do respect him do it strictly off the merit of his swords.

    Family Words: Naught But Specs.


    Darien never knew his father, and his mother had died by the time he was seven due to fever. As such he grew up mostly under the care of his grandfather, watched as his home and family slowly died off all around him. Shops closed as money became tighter, families he knew starved in the cold winters, all the while the holdings of his family fell closer into disarray. He was born, heir to a dying house, and a dead family. He received a lordlings education, and his nimble feet could always chance its way into the decaying tower to find new books and tome's for his adventurous mind to read, but as he left his youth and began to become a young man he truly took notice of the state of his family.

    The stories he had been told and the legends he had read spoke of a great house which once flew almost as high and mighty as the Targaryens themselves, and served as the proudest of knights in the kingsguard. What had they become? How could his grandfather leave them like they where? As he crept towards his teenage years an anger grew in him, to match the restlessness of his spirit. He trained in their ancient fighting style, using lead swords to make his muscles strong, he read and poured himself over tomes and scrolls, and he made himself strong, strong like his weak willed grandfather refused to be. He would not let the house of his father die.

    At the age of eighteen, he finally confronted his grandfather with his feelings, and told him that he refused to allow himself to be the grave keeper of a dead house, the one to finally bury their proud history into the mountain side for good. "I will go and make the world fear our name, not by the wings of beasts but with my steel, and I will restore our family! I will make the Seven Kingdoms cower when they know they face us in battle! Or I will die trying!" He had sworn to him, tears in his eyes as he stood in his families great hall. He had expected his grandfather to be angry, to call him an insolent child, and perhaps even banish him. But the old man only smiled, the saddest smile he could, as slow tears fell down his wrinkled cheeks. "Go then." He had told him. "When your father died I broke under the loss, and when his wife, my daughter-in-law, and your mother followed him, I lost what little strength I had left. My old heart could never take on the task you wish for yourself, and I am sorry I was so weak as to raise you here. But you have learned our families pride in spite of me, and so for that I name you my Heir, and I will give you the last treasures of our house, so that you may be armed as befits your pride!"

    On that day Darien was given his families last two Valerian Steel long swords, his grandfather's own bastard sword, a bow, arrows, a the best stallion the family had, and he was sent off to make a name for himself, a cape with the sigil of his house draped over his shoulder. That was four years ago, and since then he has been on the road, he has traveled the Seven Kingdoms, and he continues his quest to find greatness for himself, and for his house.

    Roleplay Sample
    It was late, gods it was late. Darien was saddle sore from the days long ride. He had started just past dawn knowing he was close to King's Landing, but just how close or, more accurately, how far, he had miscalculated. He had hoped that he would reach the city walls by dusk, but that dream had come and gone a good six hours past. Now it was nearing midnight, and he had to bribe the guards and show his house sigil to convenience them he was important enough to let in despite the gates being closed. He sighed as he slid his hand down and tapped on the now very light coin purse on his side. At least he had managed to keep enough silver and a golden dragon or two, and if luck was on his side, the rumors of a new tourney would refill his coffers. If not, well, there was always work to be found for a swordsman of his class in this despotic town.

    Despite the hour the streets of Flea Bottom where still filled with children running away from weary parents, drunken rabble rousers, whores, and even a bold merchant or two trying desperately to make the sales the morning hours had denied them. More then once he swatted a hand out of his saddle back, or poked a would be thief with the point of a dagger if they pressed on. If he had made it to the city on time he was sure he could have afforded to visit the nicer sides of town, but the cost of admission now left Darien questioning if one of the burned out or abandon buildings wouldn't be enough cover for the night, but he knew his steed needed to be properly taken care of.

    He cast a glance over his left shoulder, the great red war stallion had been one of the many gifts his father had bestowed upon him all those years ago, and he could tell by the slow gait and the sleepy look in the beast's eyes that the days ride had been even more taxing for him. He had taken off the big heavy saddle bags and himself off the steed once they had made it inside the town, leaving him with only the saddle, the blanket underneath, and the reigns as its burden, and it also let him keep a closer watch for any hands that would sneak into his belongings. Even so, the weight was immense. He was easily carrying a good seventy or more pounds on his person, most of it dispersed in awkward places making his stride uneven, slow, and deliberate. If any truly determined robber might even make it off with one of his bags in his encumbered state, truth be told, but the heavy arms he wore was enough to frighten them off it seemed.

    He carried his twin Valerian Steel long-swords on a specially made hilt on his left hip, a great castle forged bastard sword on his back, and bows and arrows around his waste. Heavily armed, and currently totally unwieldy. He sighed as he shook his head, and let out a loud yawn, and instantly regretted it. The foul smelling streets instantly assaulted his senses, and he could taste, more than smell, the rancid river of shit that flowed down Flea Bottom. He gagged as he brought his hand to cover his mouth, half choking, half coughing on the rancid, thick, wet smell. Stranger take me! Fucking hell! He cursed in his head as he stumbled forward as he lurched a bit before recovering himself. "Don't breath." He shouted to his horse as he shook his head, his mood brightening as he saw the torch scone illuminating the sign for the inn.

    With renewed energy he trotted forward, his horse lazily and begrudgingly matching his stride. It only took them a few minutes to reach the inn, and with a coin to the drowsy stable hand he handed over his steed, paying an extra fee to ensure he was well fed, washed down, and given a clean stall to sleep in for the night, gods knew he earned it. Only after ensuring his trusted mount was being taken care of did he go inside.

    The tavern was farley full, dozens of men and women with tankards of ale and food filled the area. A minstrel played on a lyre, his voice only slightly off tune, and only missing a moderate amount of cords on his well worn lyre. The below average bard didn't seem to bother any of the tavern goers, apparently his type being the best that a place like this could find. He walked over to the barkeep and placed his arm down with a heavy thud. "I'd like a room for the next few nights, size doesn't matter just so long as its reasonably quiet." The barkeep didn't stir for a moment, only giving a slight murmur of recognition while he rubbed a mug clean without lifting his eyes. It was only after that he looked up, and gave as startled jump. "My apologize mi'lord!" He said as he motioned his hand for some of the serving girls to come over. "No need for any mi'lording." Darien said coolly, keenly aware of the unfamiliar gazes he was receiving. "Just a weary traveler with a few more swords than most is all." He said with a forced smile as one of the serving girls came over and took some of his heavy bags. "Well either way," The barkeeper said with a cough to clear his throat. "Maril here will escort you to your room." Darien nodded as he turned to follow her. "Spend a flagon of ale and whatever you have that is hot still for food." He said as he laid down a few silver coins, letting whatever was extra be the man's tip. He had learned long ago that a few coins here and there helped ease ones travel far more than any penny pinching would.

    The room was quaint, a small homey thing that smelled only moderately bad. The bed was made of hay straw, and had numerous straw strains poking out of the bedding cover. He sighed as dropped the heavy bags by the door and set his great sword behind the door. before pulling out his dagger and trimming the few that where poking out by the sleeping area, before smiling, content that it would now make for an adequate bed for the night, and far nicer than anything he had slept on in a fortnight. The serving girl returned with a pot of mystery meat stew, most likely pigeon or rat Darien guess as he gave it a dower look before thanking her. To his surprise, it was actually fairly good, and the ale was only lightly watered down. "Well." He said to himself as he sat on the bed and ate his meal. "I guess that explains why it was packed." He said, bemused a little as he listened to the poorly played lyre. As he finished he set the bowl and the tankard down by the door outside, before closing it. He placed the saddle bags in front of the door, and latched the very clumsy lock, hoping it would provide a bit of a warning should anyone actually try to break in while he slept. He also hung his bastard sword in the two torch scones by the window, acting as a make shift brace against it. His nervous habits causing him to fret over every little thing. But in a place like this, it wouldn't be surprising if someone tried to chance their luck by breaking into his place. Gods know the things he carried in here where worth more than what most made in a single year in this place, and they didn't even see the fact his swords where Valerian Steel.

    Confident in his scant protections he sighed and laid down on the hay straw bed, yawning deeply and happy that the taste on his mouth this time was merely the after taste of the ale and food. A half candle mark later, he was asleep.

    Posts : 26
    Join date : 2016-12-17
    Age : 23

    Darien Draelis Empty Re: Darien Draelis

    Post by Bri on Tue Jan 31, 2017 7:49 am

    Known In Public meaning how people describe you and the way you act publicly if you were confused.

    Posts : 8
    Join date : 2017-01-30

    Darien Draelis Empty Re: Darien Draelis

    Post by Shadow on Tue Jan 31, 2017 10:44 am

    Well because of the photo i can't edit it. XD

    Posts : 8
    Join date : 2017-01-30

    Darien Draelis Empty Re: Darien Draelis

    Post by Shadow on Tue Jan 31, 2017 5:36 pm

    Known In Public: Most do not know him in public. The sigil of his house has all but faded from the memories of most, except the oldest and the most studious of citizens. As such mostly he gets curious looks, mistakenly called Ser, or Mi'lord. But those that do know, tend to look upon him with mocking contempt for the weakness of his father, the shame of his house, and the dilapidated state of his lands. The last lordling, the earth worm, and whatever else the half minded fools of court can come up with. His standoffish nature also earns him little love among others, no those few who do respect him do it strictly off the merit of his swords.

    Posts : 26
    Join date : 2016-12-17
    Age : 23

    Darien Draelis Empty Re: Darien Draelis

    Post by Bri on Wed Feb 01, 2017 7:08 am

    Okay, you only need do one more thing which write story. I add public one on forum and then I'll have someone look over it Surprised

    Posts : 12
    Join date : 2016-12-27

    Darien Draelis Empty Re: Darien Draelis

    Post by Cassie on Wed Feb 01, 2017 6:43 pm

    Yes sorry she means an RP sample and I you will be good to go after that. I will make that more clear on the application.

    Sponsored content

    Darien Draelis Empty Re: Darien Draelis

    Post by Sponsored content

      Current date/time is Wed Jun 19, 2019 1:29 am