Lance Rayvis
Oct 19, 2013 10:34:27 GMT -6
Post by Lance Rayvis on Oct 19, 2013 10:34:27 GMT -6
LIVING A LIE
| LANCE RAYVIS THIRTY-FOUR WINTER KING OF THIEVES | HETEROSEXUAL six feet BEASTMAN (Panther) VIRGO |
personality
One would expect one such as the King of Thieves himself to be charming, calculating, something of the sort, right? Well... they'd be accurate enough. He knows well how to read people, he knows well how to get what he wants, and he will generally do it all without the slightest break in his calm. Better yet, he knows how to get around; the ins and outs of a given city are not a secret to him, and true to belief, he has resources in quite a number of places.
Resources he doesn't strictly trust, but resources all the same.
Within which arises a certain issue: he doesn't trust. Too many empty words has he heard that he puts barely any stock in them any more, merely taking out what he can use from them and leaving the rest. But of course, that's where the guise comes in; where on the outside he can be perfectly sociable, a performer, even, under the hood can easily be as cold as a winter's night. During such times, he will rarely speak, and any objections to him can frequently be met with ill consequences. This is where his boiling fury, especially toward humans, can easily come out under the darkness of night, though he does his best to at least contain it. After all, everyone has their uses to him, whether they're aware of it or not. 'Tis just a matter of how useful they are.
Resources he doesn't strictly trust, but resources all the same.
Within which arises a certain issue: he doesn't trust. Too many empty words has he heard that he puts barely any stock in them any more, merely taking out what he can use from them and leaving the rest. But of course, that's where the guise comes in; where on the outside he can be perfectly sociable, a performer, even, under the hood can easily be as cold as a winter's night. During such times, he will rarely speak, and any objections to him can frequently be met with ill consequences. This is where his boiling fury, especially toward humans, can easily come out under the darkness of night, though he does his best to at least contain it. After all, everyone has their uses to him, whether they're aware of it or not. 'Tis just a matter of how useful they are.
history
Cen was veritably hell. That much nearly any beastman could likely attest to, more so those with the misfortune to be born there. After all, to be born there was to be merely born into the slavery that the people thought little of, and so Lance was. He knew no parents, he knew no family or friends, he simply knew work that had to be done, and that he had to be the one to do it or at least learn how. On his own by trial and painful error, frequently enough. Suffice it to say, he, as anyone else would hated it. He hated the people around, he hated the work, he especially hated those rare few that tried to show him some sort of sympathy.
After all, nothing ever came of it besides the rare bit of extra food scraps, still as if he was just some pet to be occasionally taken care of.
Perhaps if conditions were different, he might have accepted it as it was, as the other person at least trying to give him something. As it was, there was too much else for him to worry about, most particularly the hard labor that covered a decent range of the desert and even, at least from time to time, a wealthier part of the region only to help carry some of their heavier things for benefit of his owner that would be paid well for it. Naturally, something eventually had to give; maybe not for the weak-willed masses of slaves, but at least for someone like him, who'd seen actual vestiges of society and sought for more, useless though it felt to. But he had his chances, certainly; a coin nicked here, a bit of silk nicked there, this 'currency' and 'valuables' that could perhaps eventually purchase his way out, somehow.
A difficulty that he'd just have to live with for how often he was caught at first, and how many beatings and lost meals he received as a result.
But he didn't stop, he didn't quit; he only got better. Better and better until he'd never be caught again, better and better until he could sneak his way around with barely a worry. Better and better until he picked up a variety of skills, until he stabbed his owner to death with a small dagger he'd filched and fled Cen entirely, only to find his way northwest to Ilusia. At first, it was just a test for him, filching a few things here and there until a reputation began to grow. Only once was he spotted, once that could be considered a mistake of youth at the age of 18, a little girl that ended up testing him and he ended up getting at least a little upset at. But that was just the once. Otherwise he steadily formed a sociable appearance while taking whatever he chose, skulking about at night and building contacts and a knowledge of the places and their people, even a number of secrets. Only naturally, Volos eventually became his home, out of the way and with a fair view of the land as it was.
And now he was the King. Nobody was going to stop him, nobody was going to control him... not any more.
After all, nothing ever came of it besides the rare bit of extra food scraps, still as if he was just some pet to be occasionally taken care of.
Perhaps if conditions were different, he might have accepted it as it was, as the other person at least trying to give him something. As it was, there was too much else for him to worry about, most particularly the hard labor that covered a decent range of the desert and even, at least from time to time, a wealthier part of the region only to help carry some of their heavier things for benefit of his owner that would be paid well for it. Naturally, something eventually had to give; maybe not for the weak-willed masses of slaves, but at least for someone like him, who'd seen actual vestiges of society and sought for more, useless though it felt to. But he had his chances, certainly; a coin nicked here, a bit of silk nicked there, this 'currency' and 'valuables' that could perhaps eventually purchase his way out, somehow.
A difficulty that he'd just have to live with for how often he was caught at first, and how many beatings and lost meals he received as a result.
But he didn't stop, he didn't quit; he only got better. Better and better until he'd never be caught again, better and better until he could sneak his way around with barely a worry. Better and better until he picked up a variety of skills, until he stabbed his owner to death with a small dagger he'd filched and fled Cen entirely, only to find his way northwest to Ilusia. At first, it was just a test for him, filching a few things here and there until a reputation began to grow. Only once was he spotted, once that could be considered a mistake of youth at the age of 18, a little girl that ended up testing him and he ended up getting at least a little upset at. But that was just the once. Otherwise he steadily formed a sociable appearance while taking whatever he chose, skulking about at night and building contacts and a knowledge of the places and their people, even a number of secrets. Only naturally, Volos eventually became his home, out of the way and with a fair view of the land as it was.
And now he was the King. Nobody was going to stop him, nobody was going to control him... not any more.
Played by Lance
[b]shugo chara[/b] - [i]black lynx[/i]; lance rayvis
[b]shugo chara[/b] - [i]black lynx[/i]; lance rayvis
MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS
