Lark Sylvson
![]()
Basic Information
Full Name: Lark "Sylv" Sylvsson
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Birth Date: 11/04
Race:Humani
Alignment: Neutral
![]()
Appearance
Hair Colour: Raven
Eye Colour: Violet
Face Shape: Oval
Skin Tone: Olive
Height: 170cm (5'7")
Weight: 52kg (115lbs)
Body Type: Slender, faintly toned.
Natural Markings: N/A
Scar(s): N/A
Tattoo(s): N/A
![]()
Personality
3 Words: Determined, Immature, Kleptomaniac.
Like(s): Stealing, Running, Rain.
Dislike(s): Guards, Stinginess, Nephilims.
Want(s): To steal power away from the Nephilims, and eventually from Raziel.
Fear(s): Dying alone and forgotten.
Favourite...
Colour(s): Various shades of Purple, Black, Dark Blues.
Time of Day: Dusk; To better flee out of sight.
Food: Anything Lark can get his hands on.
Animal: Bird.
Place in Terra: Wellborough.
![]()
Skills and Attributes
Skills
Special ablilty/ies: Asides from his magpie-like instincts for spotting shiny trinkets Lark has not discovered or developed any sort of special ability of his own.
Good at...: Taking anything that isn't bolted down. What's yours is his and good luck running fast enough to catch him.
Bad at...: Lying; Lark is infamously bad at lying. He's got, what some would say, a "Terrible poker face".
Traits
Good Habit(s): Shows kindness towards children and animals alike.
Bad Habit(s): Cannot resist the calling of shiny trinkets. If it's within arm's reach nine times out of ten he's going to attempt to snatch it. This gets him into trouble more often than naught.
![]()
History
The Past
Lark Sylvsson, a man born from average parents raised on an average farm but lived to experience a not so average life. Lark's parents, Sylv and Letta, were farmhands working on one of the numerous farms that dotted the capital's outskirts. Much like any other peasent out there they were very religious and believed that God was the almighty soverign of Terra, and that he sent his son, Raziel, to bring life and order to the Hell Alithe had created. As such when was born he too was raised on the word of God and all that he stood for. That is until one day Lark's parents, completely absorbed in their religious fanaticism, left Wellborough for good to go on a pilgrimage to the Institute. They left Lark to do what any one fanatic would do; Become a Nephilim and serve Raziel in body and soul. Barely even past his fifth year in life Lark was left in the care of one of Letta's closest friends at the farm while being promised that one day his parents would return as full-fledged Nephilim, children of Raziel, and enforce Raziel's law wherever they may go. Thus he waited with innocent hope gleaming in his eyes.
Days went by. Weeks, months, even years passed with not a word as Lark waited for the triumphant return of his parents. As time slipped by that hopeful gleam in Lark's eyes grew dimmer and dimmer until one day they had vanished entirely to be replaced, instead, by resentment and hate. He started slacking off more and more at the farm. On more than one occasion he had been caught stealing from the other farmhands. Day after day. Year after year he grew from the hopeful little child into a resentful young adult who felt betrayed by the ones who loved him most. However his hate wasn't directed towards his parents, who had abandonded him in their pursuit of religious glory, but instead at Raziel who he felt had stolen his parents away from him. His parents weren't in the wrong as Raziel had clearly stolen away their minds and souls! In his eyes Raziel was the one who ultimately killed his parents for if they weren't dead then why wouldn't they come home.
During his many years of waiting Lark had picked up the art of thievery, and while still a novice he had stolen his fair share of coin from his fellow farmhands. If he couldn't vent his hatred towards who he wanted then the next best thing would do. That next best thing just happened to be all the farmhands around him. By plundering the wealth that others worked hard to get Lark felt a certain satisfaction that attempted to fill the gaping wound in his heart. Not feeling completely satisfied he continued to steal more and more until eventually he realized that the feeling would never heal the wound. In the end Lark had becomed completely addicted to the feeling while desiring more and more. After some time had passed, when Lark hit the fifthteenth year of his life, he was ultimately chased out of the farmlands as the criminal he was.
At this point Lark had two choices. Leave Wellborough for good or flee deeper into the capital, hide from the sight of the law, and live in the shadows clinging to the dark to survive. Outside Wellborough was nothing but endless forests teeming with a myriad of creatures far and wide. His only real option was to flee to the city and do whatever it took to survive. His life may have started out average, but through the choices of others and choices of his own everything was quickly turning out to be anything but average.
The Present
Currently Lark resides within the leafy confines of Wellborough, Humani's forest capital. Here he lives a life in the dark. In the few short years after fleeing from the outskirts Lark has managed to make quite the name for himself. Although in no way are any of these names good. Thief, conman, and burglar would be far too lofty names for Lark as he is far more infamous for stealing, or attempting to, just about anything at almost any time even in broad daylight. Whether it's food, coin, or your child's favorite plaything. If he desires it, for whatever reason, then there isn't anything that's going to stop him from attempting to pocket it. Nearly every day one could catch a glimpse of a platoon of guards chasing after a dark figure.
In the beginning he had stolen purely to keep his stomach full. In the end, though, Lark had developed a sort of sixth sense for shiny objects and valuables. Like a moth to a flame he couldn't help but take it all. He even went as far as to vow to steal all that Raziel held dear whether it be money, woman, or power. Lark desired to one day stand above Raziel and sneer as he crushed him beneath his foot. A desire that burned like a raging flame in his heart which did nothing to douse his kleptomaniac passion.
Member
