Post by Dunyain on Apr 9, 2006 10:45:01 GMT -5
Name; Joseph D. Dunyain
Nickname; Dunyain
Age; 19
Sex; Male
Height; 5'11"
Weight; 174lbs
Physical Appearance;
Dunyain is very thin, yet has an impressive repertoire of muscles, made from working out day after day. His muscles, against his thin body, do not seem like much (not like the weight-lifters, or many football players, at least), yet inside his limbs he holds an unseen strength, and is easily as strong as most other men, if not stronger. He has short white hair, half of it usually going combed down neatly, the other half being messy and scruffy, as if he had just woke up, is his usually style. His left eye has a light-grey pupil, looking little different to his right. He has a scar down his right eye, which begins at the top center of his forehead, then slopes downward, across his eye, and finishes just below his ear. The actual scar vanishes over his eyelid, which is revealed only when his right eye is open; the line of dark red intersecting an otherwise pure-white eye. His hair, the right side, is often combed down further, covering his right eye, hiding it.
He is usually seen wearing a dark red overcoatcoat, which falls down to just below his knees, the sleeves too long for his arms, as they drape over his hands, much like a child with a jumper too large for there body. The cuffs are black, aswell as the large collar, which he often wears pulled up, covering his chin. He unbuttons the cuffs at the end, and lets them dangle, which looks unusual, but allows him to keep mobility to his hands despite the extra length. Beneath that, he wears a regular light-grey t-shirt (many would confuse it with white.. he adamantly declares it is light grey) with no distinguishing marks, sometimes, if the weather allows, he wears no shirt whatsoever. His trousers are black and nothing unordinary, a nice snug fit, which gives mobility, comfort and warmth, yet never giving too much or too little of one. His black boots are of a strong make, have metal plates inserted into the heel and tip of the boot, to add an extra force to his kicks, and protect his feet. Extremely durable and comfortable, they appear to be custom made. He sometimes wears black finger-less gloves, stretching back only to his wrists, yet mostly he keeps them in a pocket somewhere. A small silver chain dangles around his throat, on it, the symbol of a tribal-esque cross, encircled by a crescent moon.
His whole body is covered with tattoos and scars; some from his past, some done by himself, others from the various fights he has been involved in over the years. A large cross is tattooed on the top right of his torso, just beside his nipple, with the words "A Cruce Letum" on a small banner wrapping around the cross. Most of his other tattoos are in various shapes and form, most taking those of crosses, roses, the usual marks. His has the words "Yes I Taste It, Yes I Breath It, Yes I Hate It" tattooed opposite to his cross, and on his back, in black tribal letters, lyrics have been inked on;
"So I say thank you for the scars
And the guilt and the pain
Every tear I've never cried
Has sealed your fucking fate
What did you take me for, a fool?
Or were you just too blind to see
That every effort made has failed
And there is no destroying me?"
Personality;
Dunyain, as he likes to be known, is an.. unusual person. His upbringing hasnt exactly been the greatest, but he has still come through shining. He can be smart, when he wants to be, and is overtly strong, and good with his hands. Sadly, everything that has happened has had a very negative effect on him. He is very quick to anger, with a fuse as short as it is highly explosive, and when Dunyain gets angry, people usually end up getting hurt. He's loyal to his friends, and anyone he considers an ally, and will always stick up for them, when the need arises. In class, he always has to stand out; he rarely sits in one place for too long, if he sits down at all, and always has to argue and play the odds. He refuses to learn, and despite his somewhat above-average intelligence, flat-out disagrees with everything attempt to bring out the bright side in him. He quite often storms out of classes, if he even turns up in the first place; many wonder why he is even being sent here.
You see, Dunyain loves conflict. A peaceful life doesnt exist for him, for he cant stand it; silence scares him, being alone worries him immensely, which is why he has to play the fool, act the tough guy, just to get noticed, so he doesnt get left out all by himself. An extremely insecure person, who has sought refuge in many martial arts, knowing an impressive combination of styles to a proficient standing. His training with weapons is just as thorough, and back home, he owns more blades, swords and knives than anyone cares to admit. If there is a raised voice, chances are, Dunyain is in the middle of it; if now, it wont be long till he joins in.
Underneath the surface, he's a nice guy, if you can get past the wall of fire and blades.. Defensive and loyal, he enjoys listening to classical music almost as much as he does heavy metal, his usual style, and can play the piano to an impressive standard; a feat he never admits to. He took a single lesson of interpretive dance a few years back, something relating to his community service, and almost enjoyed it; apart from the lycra suits, the staring eyes, and the constant feeling of homosexuality. He may not show much initimacy towards others, but a good friend means alot to him; whether he admits it or not.
History;
Dunyain grew up the son of nobody. He was abandoned at a Hospital as a new-born baby, and almost died of hypothermia outside; luckily, the nurses found him, took him in, and cared for him until he was well. His pure-white hair was truly an anomoly, but they found his friendly child-like disposition, and his dazzling green eyes truly mystifying, even as a baby. They were sad to see him go into adoption.
He grew up not in a foster home, but in a half-way house, stuck between foster parents. He would never be chosen by the prospective families, and when he was thrusted into the arms of some other family, things always turned out for the worse, no matter what, and he found his way back into the half way house again and again, always adding a few more scars or wounds to the list on return. He would be forced to stay in that hole until he was 16. Throughtout his time there, he had few friends, everyone coming and going as they got adopted, or just left when they were old enough. He had no real relationships with people, and tended to avoid conversation with most newcomers, knowing they would one-day just leave aswell. This, generally, made him a dark person, rarely needing social company to get by, but always secretly longing for it. He read alot, using what little money he could get to buy books, and would often break into schools and libraries, or sneak into classes, to learn whatever was being taught; be it maths, music, science, or english. He also took a general interest in weight-lifting and working out, hoping he could get stronger to perhaps look out for himself, maybe impress a family enough to take him in; it never worked, but he continued to do it, strengthening himself both physically and mentally.
When he was 16, things finally took a turn for the better, as he was adopted into a home which seemed neither abusive nor violent. He was there for a year, till the age of Seventeen, when the Mother was hospitalised, with a broken arm, two broken ribs, and a cracked jaw-bone, after a horrific bus accident, which claimed the lives of 5 other people. She died 2 months later, but Dunyain was allowed to stay in the home; by the fathers allowance. Of course, facing such immense grief, the Father turned to alcohol to help ease his pain. Dunyain, meanwhile, felt little in terms of sorrow or grief, already having realised everybody would, in time, leave him. Three weeks before Dunyain reached age 18, the father returned home, absolutely drunk, to find Dunyain, half-asleep, making himself a sandwich..
He hardly remembers what happened after that; all he could remember was the drunk guy lunging at him, pounding him with his fists until he blanked out, and waking up in a hospital, 4 weeks later, with more broken bones than he could count. It took him another 2 months to properly heal, when he was approached by a lawyer; apparantly, the man he once considered the closest thing to his Father was so drunk and full of grief, he lashed out at anyone who came too close, attacking three people on his way home from the Bar, and then releasing all his rage upon Dunyain. The guy then got into his car, and drove off, leaving Dunyain battered and beaten. He drove 3 miles down the road, parked the car on the side of the road, and jumped out infront of a Bus; ironically, the same bus to take his wives life. He didnt survive. Dunyain was apparantly found by the Neighbour, whom he hadnt really gotten to know, and then was brought to hospital. In his fathers Will, all their possessions were left to Dunyain; it wasnt much, but enough money to get him through University. He sold the house and all the other possessions, and as soon as he arrived, found someone to buy the car off him, just to give him a little more spending money.
Why did he choose to go to University? Who knew. Why GreenWood especially? Only he can really say. He had to forge his entrance papers to get in, but his generaly intelligence impressed them enough to give him a place, and he had enough money to last a good few years, so here he is.
Pets; None
Pictures;
Nickname; Dunyain
Age; 19
Sex; Male
Height; 5'11"
Weight; 174lbs
Physical Appearance;
Dunyain is very thin, yet has an impressive repertoire of muscles, made from working out day after day. His muscles, against his thin body, do not seem like much (not like the weight-lifters, or many football players, at least), yet inside his limbs he holds an unseen strength, and is easily as strong as most other men, if not stronger. He has short white hair, half of it usually going combed down neatly, the other half being messy and scruffy, as if he had just woke up, is his usually style. His left eye has a light-grey pupil, looking little different to his right. He has a scar down his right eye, which begins at the top center of his forehead, then slopes downward, across his eye, and finishes just below his ear. The actual scar vanishes over his eyelid, which is revealed only when his right eye is open; the line of dark red intersecting an otherwise pure-white eye. His hair, the right side, is often combed down further, covering his right eye, hiding it.
He is usually seen wearing a dark red overcoatcoat, which falls down to just below his knees, the sleeves too long for his arms, as they drape over his hands, much like a child with a jumper too large for there body. The cuffs are black, aswell as the large collar, which he often wears pulled up, covering his chin. He unbuttons the cuffs at the end, and lets them dangle, which looks unusual, but allows him to keep mobility to his hands despite the extra length. Beneath that, he wears a regular light-grey t-shirt (many would confuse it with white.. he adamantly declares it is light grey) with no distinguishing marks, sometimes, if the weather allows, he wears no shirt whatsoever. His trousers are black and nothing unordinary, a nice snug fit, which gives mobility, comfort and warmth, yet never giving too much or too little of one. His black boots are of a strong make, have metal plates inserted into the heel and tip of the boot, to add an extra force to his kicks, and protect his feet. Extremely durable and comfortable, they appear to be custom made. He sometimes wears black finger-less gloves, stretching back only to his wrists, yet mostly he keeps them in a pocket somewhere. A small silver chain dangles around his throat, on it, the symbol of a tribal-esque cross, encircled by a crescent moon.
His whole body is covered with tattoos and scars; some from his past, some done by himself, others from the various fights he has been involved in over the years. A large cross is tattooed on the top right of his torso, just beside his nipple, with the words "A Cruce Letum" on a small banner wrapping around the cross. Most of his other tattoos are in various shapes and form, most taking those of crosses, roses, the usual marks. His has the words "Yes I Taste It, Yes I Breath It, Yes I Hate It" tattooed opposite to his cross, and on his back, in black tribal letters, lyrics have been inked on;
"So I say thank you for the scars
And the guilt and the pain
Every tear I've never cried
Has sealed your fucking fate
What did you take me for, a fool?
Or were you just too blind to see
That every effort made has failed
And there is no destroying me?"
Personality;
Dunyain, as he likes to be known, is an.. unusual person. His upbringing hasnt exactly been the greatest, but he has still come through shining. He can be smart, when he wants to be, and is overtly strong, and good with his hands. Sadly, everything that has happened has had a very negative effect on him. He is very quick to anger, with a fuse as short as it is highly explosive, and when Dunyain gets angry, people usually end up getting hurt. He's loyal to his friends, and anyone he considers an ally, and will always stick up for them, when the need arises. In class, he always has to stand out; he rarely sits in one place for too long, if he sits down at all, and always has to argue and play the odds. He refuses to learn, and despite his somewhat above-average intelligence, flat-out disagrees with everything attempt to bring out the bright side in him. He quite often storms out of classes, if he even turns up in the first place; many wonder why he is even being sent here.
You see, Dunyain loves conflict. A peaceful life doesnt exist for him, for he cant stand it; silence scares him, being alone worries him immensely, which is why he has to play the fool, act the tough guy, just to get noticed, so he doesnt get left out all by himself. An extremely insecure person, who has sought refuge in many martial arts, knowing an impressive combination of styles to a proficient standing. His training with weapons is just as thorough, and back home, he owns more blades, swords and knives than anyone cares to admit. If there is a raised voice, chances are, Dunyain is in the middle of it; if now, it wont be long till he joins in.
Underneath the surface, he's a nice guy, if you can get past the wall of fire and blades.. Defensive and loyal, he enjoys listening to classical music almost as much as he does heavy metal, his usual style, and can play the piano to an impressive standard; a feat he never admits to. He took a single lesson of interpretive dance a few years back, something relating to his community service, and almost enjoyed it; apart from the lycra suits, the staring eyes, and the constant feeling of homosexuality. He may not show much initimacy towards others, but a good friend means alot to him; whether he admits it or not.
History;
Dunyain grew up the son of nobody. He was abandoned at a Hospital as a new-born baby, and almost died of hypothermia outside; luckily, the nurses found him, took him in, and cared for him until he was well. His pure-white hair was truly an anomoly, but they found his friendly child-like disposition, and his dazzling green eyes truly mystifying, even as a baby. They were sad to see him go into adoption.
He grew up not in a foster home, but in a half-way house, stuck between foster parents. He would never be chosen by the prospective families, and when he was thrusted into the arms of some other family, things always turned out for the worse, no matter what, and he found his way back into the half way house again and again, always adding a few more scars or wounds to the list on return. He would be forced to stay in that hole until he was 16. Throughtout his time there, he had few friends, everyone coming and going as they got adopted, or just left when they were old enough. He had no real relationships with people, and tended to avoid conversation with most newcomers, knowing they would one-day just leave aswell. This, generally, made him a dark person, rarely needing social company to get by, but always secretly longing for it. He read alot, using what little money he could get to buy books, and would often break into schools and libraries, or sneak into classes, to learn whatever was being taught; be it maths, music, science, or english. He also took a general interest in weight-lifting and working out, hoping he could get stronger to perhaps look out for himself, maybe impress a family enough to take him in; it never worked, but he continued to do it, strengthening himself both physically and mentally.
When he was 16, things finally took a turn for the better, as he was adopted into a home which seemed neither abusive nor violent. He was there for a year, till the age of Seventeen, when the Mother was hospitalised, with a broken arm, two broken ribs, and a cracked jaw-bone, after a horrific bus accident, which claimed the lives of 5 other people. She died 2 months later, but Dunyain was allowed to stay in the home; by the fathers allowance. Of course, facing such immense grief, the Father turned to alcohol to help ease his pain. Dunyain, meanwhile, felt little in terms of sorrow or grief, already having realised everybody would, in time, leave him. Three weeks before Dunyain reached age 18, the father returned home, absolutely drunk, to find Dunyain, half-asleep, making himself a sandwich..
He hardly remembers what happened after that; all he could remember was the drunk guy lunging at him, pounding him with his fists until he blanked out, and waking up in a hospital, 4 weeks later, with more broken bones than he could count. It took him another 2 months to properly heal, when he was approached by a lawyer; apparantly, the man he once considered the closest thing to his Father was so drunk and full of grief, he lashed out at anyone who came too close, attacking three people on his way home from the Bar, and then releasing all his rage upon Dunyain. The guy then got into his car, and drove off, leaving Dunyain battered and beaten. He drove 3 miles down the road, parked the car on the side of the road, and jumped out infront of a Bus; ironically, the same bus to take his wives life. He didnt survive. Dunyain was apparantly found by the Neighbour, whom he hadnt really gotten to know, and then was brought to hospital. In his fathers Will, all their possessions were left to Dunyain; it wasnt much, but enough money to get him through University. He sold the house and all the other possessions, and as soon as he arrived, found someone to buy the car off him, just to give him a little more spending money.
Why did he choose to go to University? Who knew. Why GreenWood especially? Only he can really say. He had to forge his entrance papers to get in, but his generaly intelligence impressed them enough to give him a place, and he had enough money to last a good few years, so here he is.
Pets; None
Pictures;
.. Howd you guess? 
