Characteristics: Name: Siral Avadur Race: Human. Birthday: 86th day of Summer, 490 AV. Gender: Male. Height: 5' 7" Weight: 155 lbs. Description: Siral is a man of average height and ordinary build, with normal black hair of a regularly short length. His muscles are toned, but not bulky, and his voice is masculine, but not deep. Every aspect of his appearance seems to walk the middle line; the oft-traveled road. But that is simply the worn cover of the book, and past his common brown eyes lays a story ever-winding and continually-written. He is simply complex. Personality: Growing up in the loving care of a minstrel and a bard (Some may argue the semantics of such a sentence), Siral was destined to be a musician of some sort. The instrument that fell in his lap one day was a specially hollow flute which his mother thought suited his "flowing" nature. Such was the beginning of his passion for music, which drives down to the very core of his being. Life itself can be likened to a song, if one looks at it a certain way, and Siral strives to apply this constant variation of perspective to every aspect of his surroundings. He is a natural entertainer, and an ardent storyteller, comfortable before any sort of crowd. Quick with wit and word, Siral sometimes takes to speaking in prose, if only for his own amusement, but this whimsical tendency perfectly captures his nature. He is fantastically real. Cares For:
Would Rather Avoid:
The Very First Tale: A story, let us hear, of a child of song, Raised by travellers, gaily parading along. The road they walked was worn and dreary, Yet still their smiles stood, and none were weary. But along the way they met a man, Of wisdom, tune, and glee. He pulled out a flute, and when he began, Their souls themselves were free. It was a song, of vivid delight and imagining Filled with the very essence of life. It carried within a passion so bright that all who heard forgot their strife. A melody that cut through the soul like a knife. The man asked no money, no food, no praise, As he played his melody with grace. But when it was over, a frown came down, And a tear somberly fell down his face. For while the couple was dazed, there came a sound, There stood two men, one poised like a hound. They held in their hands rope and steel, And without warning or word, the duo was bound. The mother was hit first, without so much as a squeal, Then the father as well, with a blow that was quite real. But one word escaped the torture, "Run," Before the captor gave him another for his zeal. But the men had not counted well, and left went the son. Who could do nothing but hide, as the deed was done. He kept hidden two packs as the men disappeared, But that did nothing to help that three was now one... And that was the day the son vowed, not to be outdone. Years passed as the son made due, Regardless of how sad. But the memory still stings of the men in black, And the rope and steel they had. But cheer my friends, for this is simply a tune, A prose of my own telling. Now drink and be merry, for such is the ocassion, For the ale is quite compelling. |