Post by BadWolf on Aug 8, 2012 22:15:56 GMT -8
Name: Sheamus
Pronunciation: sh- AY - m - US (ʃ /eɪ/ m /ʌs/ )
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Turnday: 3055/13/10
Weyr: Rainbow Mist Weyr
Rank: Dragon Candidate & Apprentice Smith
Family: Sharayn- Mother- Journeyman Healer- Cliffside Sea Hold, Markus- Father- Deceased- Journeyman Fisherman- Cliffside Sea Hold, Shaynon- Elder Sister- Apprentice Beastcrafter- Stormy Plains Beast Hold, Mayre- Elder Sister- Cotholder's Wife- Cliffside Sea Hold, Mairiana- Elder Sister- Apprentice Healer- Melisong Hold, Willum- Paternal Grandfather- Master Smith- Cliffside Sea Hold
Friends:Charlynna- Childhood Friend- Weaver
Pets: Mistborn- Female Purple(#663399) Flitter- 1.5 Turns Old
Appearance: Sweat dripped from sun tanned flesh, sliding slowly down the young mans strong, furrowed brow as Rukbat beat down on him. Normally, he would have run the back of his large, calloused, and well abused hand across his brow, saved himself the sting as the sweat cut through the straw thin path a scar cut through his dark eyebrow and dripped into his silvery gaze. He blinked away the sting, the blurring of his vision, shifting his burden to be sure his sweaty fingers wouldn't slip on the wood of the crate. The last thing he needed was to drop the load, spill the crate of buckles and o-rings, pots, pans, and cutlery destined to tithy the weyr. They had spare crates, to be sure, but they didn't need to be waiting for the repacking of a broken crate to hold the train up. If only the older man at the other end would stop tripping and stumbling! Shay had no trouble with a burden of this weight, even if it caused his arms to bulge and his back to go rigid with the strain, it was a shell of a lot easier than lurching to and fro and constantly stopping so the other could regain his grip.
Shay stood a good head over the other man, making their chore even more awkward by that difference in height. Finally, Shay found the end of his patience, taking advantage of yet another pause to shift his grip to the middle of the crate, hefting the load up and onto his broad shoulders with a grunt of effort. "I got this Bry, why don't you go see if they need any more help with loading the wagons?" Because he was tired of the man tripping over every pebble in their path. Long legs carried him across the remaining distance to the waiting wagon train, sure feet finding purchase even in the muck and mud that had been turned up around the wagons by so many milling boots. He easily hefted the crate onto the bed of the wagon, strong back flexing as he gave it a shove to be sure it wasn't going anywhere.
Eye Color: Pale Grey- Often appears Blue when emotions are high or in extremely low light
Hair Color/Style: Dark brown. Longer on top and kept swept back, with the stray tendril falling into his eyes from time to time. Kept trimmed at the nape of the neck and around his ears to prevent tickling and sticking to sweaty flesh
Weight/Build: 230lb Muscular without bulkyness
Height: 6'1
Notable Burns & Scars:
Burn to Right Shoulder- spreading to fully cover the deltoid muscle, from the junction of the trapezius at the neck to the valley where it meets the tricep/bicep in the arm, and down and inch and a half onto the pectoral of his chest.
Scar to Right Thigh- Rope burn scar to right thigh
Personality: Shay is prone to silence over chatter, with a quiet & calm confidence that allowed even an unskilled child to easily handle all but the most spirited or ornery of runners. Not that the Hold had all that many, but what they had was enough to keep the young Shay out of trouble for a time. Many thought he would follow his eldest sister to the beastcraft, but despite his love of runners, he doubted the beasthall would be enough to hold his interest for a lifetime. Having been born and raised in a seahold, he wasn't a stranger to the ways of the world, ale, curses, and tussles were just a part of life with this sort of folk. The sea bred them hard and a life on that sea, or even along side it, hardened even the most steely of men. Shard it, he was pretty sure even the women of a seahold were tougher than those found farther inland. He could think of a particular female who was the spittin image of a tough seahold bred woman. He was pretty sure she was tougher than most men, actually.
Being an only son in a house full of women, Shay was raised with plenty of love and affection and that translated into a compassionate and caring man. A man who knows the difference between right and wrong, who isn't too prideful to stand up and protect those who can't do so for themselves. While he would rather deal with issues civilly, he has no issue handling himself if things take the less civil route. He's won and lost his fare share of fist fights, sporting his bruises with dignity when he's lost and pride when he won. There is a romantic side to Shay, a side he keeps tucked away from the world for fear of fouling it. With secret dreams of becoming a rider, he's often caught with his pale gaze turned skyward in hopes of catching a glimpse of either dragon or lifewing.
History: Shay was born last in the long line of a seahold bred family. His family had been seaholders for as many generations as any could recall, almost all of those having been right in his home hold of Cliffside Sea Hold. Though it would seem that his generation would be the one to break that trend and stray out to set their own roots deep into the southern soil. With three sisters turns older than he, baby Shay was rarely left alone for more than a half candlemark without someone fussing and cooing over his chubby baby self. And this wasn't a trend to dye off when the baby became a toddler, or even when that toddler became a boy. He was just the sweetest, cutest baby boy his family had seen, always smiling and laughing, the happy and healthy baby boy that every mother dreams of. Never a fusser, never a cryer, even when he took a childhood fever, he was as stoic and brave as one could wish of a 3turn old child. As he got older and was allowed to roam and explore the hold he found himself the most perfect of playmates. A rough and tumble tomboy who was willing to tolerate the younger boy following her about like a love struck puppy.
It wasn't long before Charlynna had him wrapped around her little finger, getting him into trouble more often than not as she usd the boy to do her bidding. But he never found himself caring, instead he would smile his sweet smile to the adults, turning that pale gaze big and puppy like, often dodging out of punishment with an apology and a promise to not do it again. Though he never used it for ill gains, the boy was skilled at manipulating his elders, and likely could have done the same with his peers if he'd even been aware of the skill.
At far too young of an age, young Shay lost his father to the sea. It wasn't an uncommon happening in this life, the sea could even be so cruel as to snatch one from the very sands of the beach! Young Shay sat with his mother, comforting her even as he himself did not fully understand what was happening. Daddy wouldn't be coming home again. That made him sad, but clearly it made his mother and sisters sadder.
A few turns later, with the loss of his childhood friend to the Weavercraft, the boy was playing at catching one of the hold terriers one night. Stalking the dog as it hunted for rodents and tunnelsnakes among the dockside storage buildings. It wasn't long before the boy found himself in trouble like nothing he'd been in before. Suddenly the terrier shot past him, hot on the tail of a rodent. Tripping in the half light cast by his lantern, he found his foot tangled up in a coil of rope -a coil of rope that was rigged to the ceiling for hoisting heavy loads- and in his attempt to free himself, kicking at the rope like any child might- found himself being hoisted skyward with a white hot pain running down his leg.
The trip skyward was quick, in the blink of an eye he was falling back towards the ground, landing hard against a small barrel of oil. The fall, though not terribly far, was enough to knock the boy out, leaving him in an even worse situation than he was already in. In the midst of his struggle he'd set his lantern aside, knowing the dangers of a loose flame and his sudden skyward journey upended that lantern. The flame soon found its new fuel as the spilt oil from the upended barrel reached the unprotected flame. Like a tunnelsnake hunting its prey, the flame slithered up the spill, growing as it found more and more to feed it. When it finally reached he boy, it found that the boys shirt had soaked up some of the oil...
Two days later, the pain woke the boy from his unconsciousness, that same white hot agony that had laced through his leg in that brief skyward journey had spread to his shoulder. Opening his silvery eyes, he blinked up at the worried, drawn face of his mother as she changed the dressing on his burnt shoulder. The flames had spread through the storage, drawing attention quickly, or the boy might not have survived the fire. By the time he healed fully, he was left with a pair of reminders of that night. A thick scar ran from mid thigh to mid calf on his right leg, twining around the leg twice from start to finish. That was the pain that had gripped his leg when he'd been thrown skyward. The second reminder was from the flame and oil. The oil had spilt near his shoulder and the fabric of his shirt had absorbed some, so when the flame had reached him, it had fed greedily on that oil soaked fabric. Fire was not kind to flesh, and the damage had taken quite a time to heal fully. Only his mothers skill as a healer allowed him to keep the full use of the shoulder, and full motion of the arm it attached to.
Once he was healed up, after what felt like far too long in his young mind, he was all but banished from the docks and the chance of another accident that would cost the hold and possibly the boys life. So he was set to work with his gran da, his father's father, the hold's smith. It wasn't long at pleaded with his gran da for an apprenticeship. Seeing little harm in teaching the boy a good solid work ethic, Willum took the boy on after two months of the boys pleading and hard work to prove himself capable.
Just last turn there was a great storm, and like every storm worth being called as much, this one washed up a great deal of valuable and salvageable flotsam. The morning after was foggy, damp and cold for the southern continent, leaving most unmotivated to go out hunting the beaches for the best haul. But not Shay, he loved the strange things that washed up in a storm! He'd gone out early with a sled and an obnoxious terrier pup who had taken a liking to him and honestly wouldn't leave him alone. After a few hours of picking through the drift wood and seaweeds that littered the beaches, having picked up a decent haul and a few prize items, Shay was about ready to call it quits and head back when that blasted litter terrier started making a ruckus up by the beaches edge. She was yapping and bouncing about as if she'd found something, but at her age it was just as likely to be a crab or a tree branch as anything truly interesting. But it turned out she'd actually found something worth while this time, she'd found herself a large tunnlesnake feasting on a clutch of eggs. Eggs buried in the beach sands could only be one thing in Shay's mind, Flitters! Fetching a large stick, for teh pup was far too small to take on a tunnlesnake of that size, he flung the bothersome creature into the underbrush and turned his attention to the decimated clutch. He found only one egg not damaged by the snake, though he found a few tini bodies the beast hadn't yet been able to devour. Tucking the egg into his bag with a few handfulls of warm sand, he hoped to make it back to the hold before it hatched, for it would fetch a fare coin. But his luck was not to go in that direction on that day, instead he found himself with egg slim filled bag half way back to the hold and a very irritated and hungry purple flitter wallowing in egg slim quicksand. He quickly scooped the poor thing out and offered her some of the dried fish jerky he'd brought along for his lunch. And so Mistborn was... well, Born.
Adoption?: npc only plz
Dragon Preferences: Male preferable
