(WORK IN PROGRESS!! I have not added appearance or fonted the text. This is my answer to the lack of sheltered male characters. :D)
Name:
Rowen Von Volfson
Age:
17
Appearance:
Occupation:
Noble.
Rowen is born of high-blood and has a lot of time on his hands to spare, that being said, there is sorely little left to learn when one is cooped inside a Castle.
Personality:
Dignified, cheerful and never falters to speak his mind. Even if it does cross others the wrong way. He seems to lack the reserved attitude most people would associate with the noblesse and he claims to have never broken a promise, and that he never will. Rowen is also rather knowledgeable about plant life and minerals, though his repetoire is more or less a loosely compiled stack of trivia and random facts.
But beneath his regal-carefree composure, he is a judgmental and pessimistic person. Believing that no good deed ever goes unpunished, that it will be his demise and that the only reason he continues to act on his idealistic ideas is that he is duty-bound to do so.
History:
The Duke of Klaustiere, third most closely related by blood to the Crown prince and Lord of the Westlands. Impressive titles, aren't they? To think that these are what people would refer to him by when he comes of age ... The mere thought sent cold shivers down his spine.
Rowen Von Volfson, R.V.V., lived a sheltered life. He never had to do anything himself and everything was provided for. All one had to do was attend the right meetings, tilt his head slightly to the right people and say the occasional praise to the crown. That's it. Peasants could only dream of his life and while he would admit he cannot live without the luxury - he never liked it much either.
More often not, he would be waltzing down the stairs of one of the Castles many towers only to come across a picturesquely placed window where he could see the forest beyond the town's borders, where he would gaze outwards whistfully until his thoughts wandered into adventures amongst it's greenery, only to be brought back to reality when he remembered that he could never leave this place. Not while he was the only son. Not while his parents were still the duchess and duke.
Reluctantly, he fulfils his duties, afterall someone had to make up for his parent's misgivings.
Klaustiere's prosperity was a mask built on the hardships of the locals. The heavily taxed common folk, whose hard earned gold is used to gild the houses of rich immigrants who brought more wealth to the already wealthy. Those born here would live off gruel which can barely feed a family of three while living in dilapidated houses stowed far away where no one could see. Rowen would sometimes make up stories like how he overheard the other nobles liked to visit the poorer areas of the town when they were bored and how bad they would look if they saw the locales like that. Or that he heard of a sickness spreading among the populace that could possibly reach the Castle and urged that they let him investigate, afterall he was suprisingly versed in medicinal terminology from time spent lounging in the library out of boredom, that it was enough to give him certain credibility. ..., just so he could give some coin back to those who deserve it. None the wiser. Hopefully.
It was when returning from one of his "little frauds", when he smelled the all too farmiliar scent of bittersweet chocolate in the crisp evening air. Followed by an obnoxiously bright light. Before all went dark again...
Rowen Von Volfson
Age:
17
Appearance:
Occupation:
Noble.
Rowen is born of high-blood and has a lot of time on his hands to spare, that being said, there is sorely little left to learn when one is cooped inside a Castle.
Personality:
Dignified, cheerful and never falters to speak his mind. Even if it does cross others the wrong way. He seems to lack the reserved attitude most people would associate with the noblesse and he claims to have never broken a promise, and that he never will. Rowen is also rather knowledgeable about plant life and minerals, though his repetoire is more or less a loosely compiled stack of trivia and random facts.
But beneath his regal-carefree composure, he is a judgmental and pessimistic person. Believing that no good deed ever goes unpunished, that it will be his demise and that the only reason he continues to act on his idealistic ideas is that he is duty-bound to do so.
History:
The Duke of Klaustiere, third most closely related by blood to the Crown prince and Lord of the Westlands. Impressive titles, aren't they? To think that these are what people would refer to him by when he comes of age ... The mere thought sent cold shivers down his spine.
Rowen Von Volfson, R.V.V., lived a sheltered life. He never had to do anything himself and everything was provided for. All one had to do was attend the right meetings, tilt his head slightly to the right people and say the occasional praise to the crown. That's it. Peasants could only dream of his life and while he would admit he cannot live without the luxury - he never liked it much either.
More often not, he would be waltzing down the stairs of one of the Castles many towers only to come across a picturesquely placed window where he could see the forest beyond the town's borders, where he would gaze outwards whistfully until his thoughts wandered into adventures amongst it's greenery, only to be brought back to reality when he remembered that he could never leave this place. Not while he was the only son. Not while his parents were still the duchess and duke.
Reluctantly, he fulfils his duties, afterall someone had to make up for his parent's misgivings.
Klaustiere's prosperity was a mask built on the hardships of the locals. The heavily taxed common folk, whose hard earned gold is used to gild the houses of rich immigrants who brought more wealth to the already wealthy. Those born here would live off gruel which can barely feed a family of three while living in dilapidated houses stowed far away where no one could see. Rowen would sometimes make up stories like how he overheard the other nobles liked to visit the poorer areas of the town when they were bored and how bad they would look if they saw the locales like that. Or that he heard of a sickness spreading among the populace that could possibly reach the Castle and urged that they let him investigate, afterall he was suprisingly versed in medicinal terminology from time spent lounging in the library out of boredom, that it was enough to give him certain credibility. ..., just so he could give some coin back to those who deserve it. None the wiser. Hopefully.
It was when returning from one of his "little frauds", when he smelled the all too farmiliar scent of bittersweet chocolate in the crisp evening air. Followed by an obnoxiously bright light. Before all went dark again...
