Post by Jen on Dec 30, 2009 20:48:19 GMT -5
Name: Tsawke (Tee-saw-kay) {Full Name/No Longer Goes By} Tsawke'tanhì
Age: Twenty-seven
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Pansexual {Undecided/Unimportant}
Race: Na'vi
Tribe: Rokure
Mount: Ikran
Sergei -- [Sher-jey] Male Ikran, given to Tsawke upon passing the test into manhood/warrior status. He is around the average height and weight of most Ikran, but his color is slightly mixed; ranging from dark navy to dusted charcoal around the body. Making it more effective on stealth at night then anywhere else. It is also slightly more agile in the air because of it's riders supple weight.
The Ikran is rather hot-headed and opposite of it's rider, yet the two have a strong bond between them. The two have a shared passion for flight and alone-time. Yet Sergei has more infatuation with the love of battle, where as Tsawke doesn't normally approve of violence. Despite the differences in the emotional track; the two link rather well on the level of proper Queue, and fly as one. While Sergei is strong, he relies on his rider just as much as Tsawke relies on him; making their bond a rather proper one. Most of the time, they only have one another--after all.
Physical Description:
Personality:
Talents:
Tsawke’s size isn’t just for show or play. He constantly uses it to his advantage, meaning agility in the sky and on the ground. With just the right angle, and with less weight on him; he is able to positively channel the winds and ground around him. Catching the small bugger can be quite the trail. Depending on how you go about it, at least.
[/li][li] Intuition [/b] – Self-talent.
Meaning simply to ‘see and feel,’ which relates to his natural ability to judge others around him. Lumping them into one of two piles; those who he believes he can trust—and those who he cannot. Tsawke’s very cautious as to whom he allows to communicate with, and believes that his intuition will tell him what to do when the time is right.
[/li][li] Stealth [/b] – On Ground only, inaccessible on Ikran.
Due to his size and body structure (like most Na’vi) he excels in being in the shadows. When not on his Ikran he can still make a very quick, difficult opponent. As long as he sticks to the element of surprise, he is safe. What he lacks in strength is made up in how he tacticians the fight/confrontation beforehand.
[/blockquote][/li][/ul]
History:
RP Sample:
Made For : Lost Paradise – © Myself
Art from : Deviantart – © anndr[/size]
Age: Twenty-seven
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Pansexual {Undecided/Unimportant}
Race: Na'vi
Tribe: Rokure
Mount: Ikran
Sergei -- [Sher-jey] Male Ikran, given to Tsawke upon passing the test into manhood/warrior status. He is around the average height and weight of most Ikran, but his color is slightly mixed; ranging from dark navy to dusted charcoal around the body. Making it more effective on stealth at night then anywhere else. It is also slightly more agile in the air because of it's riders supple weight.
The Ikran is rather hot-headed and opposite of it's rider, yet the two have a strong bond between them. The two have a shared passion for flight and alone-time. Yet Sergei has more infatuation with the love of battle, where as Tsawke doesn't normally approve of violence. Despite the differences in the emotional track; the two link rather well on the level of proper Queue, and fly as one. While Sergei is strong, he relies on his rider just as much as Tsawke relies on him; making their bond a rather proper one. Most of the time, they only have one another--after all.
Physical Description:
Around 9’5” in stature, Tsawke stands a little short of his more matured Na’vi brothers. With an iris of natural yellow and a lithe, dark blue body to match, he is considered the average build for a rider and aerial hunter. His ears are normally perked, rather narrow and straight, as is his facial structure. The cheekbones are far smoother then most males, probably due to his young age. His tail stretches out about five feet, and is slightly prehensile as well as sensitive. The skin tone of his lineage is slightly more dusky and dark then those around him, yet it is still the pronounced cyan that all Na’vi have. The stripes that grace over the layer of azure skin are darker, sapphire in color and rougher in texture.
The iridescent dots and lines normally compliment his stripes and take the form of a relaxed, cautious individual. Tsawke is not as ‘luminescent’ as some Na’vi, and neglects to have as many ‘emotional reactions’ with them as his brethren do. His pupils, though, do dilate and shift under immense pressure and stress of situations he might be placed within.
Tsawke’s attire does not shift, considering his only mount is that of the Ikran. He wears occasional leather-substitute as well as protection for his thighs and lower chest. His light clothing is made to be more aerodynamic then the robes of those that stay upon the ground. The rider wears a rare sort of headgear, made of the same rough material, sculpted in the shape of ‘balance’ between light and darkness. A link, of which is braided in the back to symbolize not only the weave between Irkan and Na’vi, but also the bond of all things on Pandora. A family heirloom, of which is dear to Tsawke, probably as much as his own tail—and probably more.
His hair covers his scalp, and majority of his own head—as it would a human’s. About twice as long as his tail, it reaches around five feet and halts as his elongated torso. Tsawke has the natural formation of the Na’vi down to the broad shoulders and tiny waist. The male tends to have a far more protruding spine, due to his size and overall flexibility. Attire changes for the most part when it comes to ceremonies or simply eating together with the tribe. The young man normally chooses to dye and prepare his own clothing (specifically from kills) and thus wears more cloth then the average Na’vi. Including both on his shoulders, around his neck (the teeth or memorabilia of the animal taken) or simply around the hips. He chooses normally to not shed out of his riding protection; as he chooses to ride bareback on almost all of his aerial expeditions.
Tsawke bares but a few scars in comparison to others said in his family; but he does have some rough patches of severed skin from dangerous hunts in the gorge. The fact he returned with his life was enough, but from his childishness—and some past struggles when harvesting prey; he bares small scratches of discolored, and dead flesh. He does little to hide the fact they exist, but instead carries them much like how a human would an honorable medal. All in all, the youthful Na’vi is a simple representation of his race.
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Personality:
Known for their apathetic stance on the human invasion; Tsawke cannot help but be lopped in with the ‘norm’ of his people and remains unattached to things that happen around him. Due to personal preference, he denounces his own tribe at times—simply for the comfort of being alone. He is soft spoken, cautious, and known for being very attentive. Not only does he hold an above average amount of intellect, but he also relies heavily on instinct. His adaptation to learning English (Sky-Speech) weighs on that favor as much as it does his intelligence. His speech can get immensely choppy, or intangible depending on how he is processing his emotions.
Tsawke does not really hold preference on male or female, nor does he seemingly have much desire to instigate passion. Despite being old enough, he has not chosen his mate and doesn’t wish too; being the type to diverge himself from any sort of loving commitment. He treats both with respect, and is slightly more protective over females; passive with males. The way he views children is simply how one who (no longer has siblings) would treat a younger brother or sister; at times he does offer to baby-sit the little ones if the parents are out hunting. Underneath a slightly awkward (for Na’vi) exterior, Tsawke is indeed a tender soul. He considers his tribe his family, but shies away from them once things get a tad too overbearing. His belief in himself is strong, and pride tends to be his downfall; yet in retrospect he is one of the most loyal men one could ever ask for.
He holds a natural sheen of brightness, and relies heavily on his raw instinct as well as underlining feelings of what is right and wrong. If he feels injustice has been served; Tsawke will fight tooth and nail against it. Rarely is there ever any violence in his docile bones, but as any Na’vi would; he defends and attacks when his back is up against the wall. Specifically on the topic of the Sky People, he disagrees with elders and refuses to speak his mind. Throughout time he has been known to side with the more neutral youth that believe such beings would never come to Rokure. He does not sympathize with them as openly as he once did, but he doesn’t seek out communication with the alien species at all. How he feels about them as a whole is a complete and utter mystery.
An ancient hunter through and through, he relies a lot on family to get him through the rough patches in life. While he has none of his own left, he is very deeply afflicted by those who have wormed their way into his heart. Those of whom he considers ‘blood relation’ are dear and near to him; a sort of bond that is only seconded by actually being kin. Although, sharing this sort of paternal bond is extremely uncommon amongst those who prefer isolation—as he does. Not to say he prefers it, but simply because Tsawke feels safer and protected with the idea of being unaccompanied. Although naturally a sign of distress and depression, he is naturally dismissing of those that attempt to quell such sorrow within him. With his favor more set on self-enlightenment over being calmed by other Na’vi; he has grown quite detached due to the loss of his elder brother. Recoiling is a simply instinctual response due to his personal loss, leading to the silent discharge of other Na’vi’s care.
And yet, as a friend he is a lot like family. Caring, nurturing, and almost paternal. His stern wisdom is something that not only comes with age, but experience. Although it is difficult for him to reach out, it is those that adapt to him (and vice versa) that make the camaraderie possible.
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Talents:
[/b] – On Ikran/On Ground, dual talent.
- Agility
Tsawke’s size isn’t just for show or play. He constantly uses it to his advantage, meaning agility in the sky and on the ground. With just the right angle, and with less weight on him; he is able to positively channel the winds and ground around him. Catching the small bugger can be quite the trail. Depending on how you go about it, at least.
[/li][li] Intuition [/b] – Self-talent.
Meaning simply to ‘see and feel,’ which relates to his natural ability to judge others around him. Lumping them into one of two piles; those who he believes he can trust—and those who he cannot. Tsawke’s very cautious as to whom he allows to communicate with, and believes that his intuition will tell him what to do when the time is right.
[/li][li] Stealth [/b] – On Ground only, inaccessible on Ikran.
Due to his size and body structure (like most Na’vi) he excels in being in the shadows. When not on his Ikran he can still make a very quick, difficult opponent. As long as he sticks to the element of surprise, he is safe. What he lacks in strength is made up in how he tacticians the fight/confrontation beforehand.
[/blockquote][/li][/ul]
History:
Offspring of two Na’vi parents; Tsawke was the second-born of the family’s ongoing generation. One given great strength and importance with the control of the Rokure skies; both parents being from noble clans of Ikran riding warriors. It was a dangerous life, but when their parents were taken away with such trivial things as business—Tsawke was simply reared by his distant branch of his family. With an older sibling by the name of Txon’tanhì, the younger of the two grew within the company of one another. While both brothers grew into their toddler years, the ongoing privilege that both parents bore for their clan grew dangerous. A routine trip through the borders led to unexpected disaster, a natural one—a simple rockslide that took days to clear. In the rubble lay many Ikran, as well as warriors and far-off housing meant for their people. Tsawke lost both of his parents that night, and struggled to keep hold upon his rapidly maturing brother.
With the guidance gone out of their lives suddenly, it fell upon the oldest sibling to nurture and support the younger alongside of their watchful aunt; which is where Tsawke adopted his current viewpoint on children around him. Still, the youngest of the family was able to push out of the dark ages; growing and holding on their names with the utmost importance to the deceased. Through one another, both Tsawke and Txon were able to place the mourning of their parents behind them, and learned to support their aging aunt and other distant relatives. Tsawke kept the heirloom of his mother (the headband) while his brother took the unsaid keepsake from his father. Both grew to be adolescents, and eventually the Rokure clan became a tranquil haven for the two children.
Txon’tanhì decided to follow the path of the frontal warrior, while Tsawke chose knowledge and simplistic border patrol; guarding the homeland of the Rokure. Although the two saw eye-to-eye on most Na’vi issues; there were a few cataclysmic differences between the two brothers. Upon the upcoming months that the humans made their debut on Pandora; Tsawke simply did not trust them, where as his sibling was disgusted by them. Thus when the younger began to attempt to learn the speech (very limited and shattered through the years of void human interaction) his elder brother was rightfully enraged. There was a long period of ignorance and months of anger, yet luckily it had boiled down in the face of blood-kin relations. Specifically when Txon’tanhì or Tsawke needed one another, fights could be quelled and locked away. The two both became men within a month of one another, and while neither started a family; they remained close—but also at odds with one another. Txon’tanhì struggled with the choice Tsawke had made to learn the about the Sky People before passing his judgment, and openly offered to be a stealth unit (specifically for surveillance) if the Rokure tribe ever was in need of one.
Luck has it, though, that the Rokure tribe will probably never see the pale face of a human in their lifetime. Be that as it may, the tension between brothers eventually spilled over; triggered by a controversial speech that the Sky People had once again appeared to be hiring guardsmen while on Pandora—that both brothers finally erupted. One standing on the side of the Na’vi; the other being sympathetic to both. Sickened with one another, the siblings separated under unfair terms. Tsawke only got notification later that his brother had not returned to the clan—and was presumed dead in the weels proceeding. The fight and supposed death of his sibling left a gaping hole in his chest, one he struggles to fill even to this day; it is quite possible he attempts to compensate through no longer speaking about such controversial ideals to other Na’vi—and has vowed to never speak to a human, unless instructed by his Clan Leader.
He now lives his days as a simple hunter, and has yet to come in contact with anyone outside the Rokure clan. While he has some trusted companions, it is because of past complications he chooses to act the way he does; despite their attempts to reach out and heal the festering wound inside his chest. It is debatable if he still sympathizes with the science-based Sky People, although he surely does not show hostility towards them.
RP Sample:
Writing on parchment with tribal dyes, inks, and a small brush-like utensil had never seemed so artistic to him as it did now. Human letters, written sounds—symbols and drawings of what he purposefully felt should have been important to him. Decorating and embroidering his own riding gear had taken up the majority of his time this season; farther and farther away from his fellow Na’vi. Alas Sergei seemed to enjoy the company, the extra flights, and the extra feedings that came along with long nights. It wasn’t like he didn’t like spending time with his brothers and sisters, but only through silence could he gain a sort of clairvoyance. With a heart that had been sunk many years before, Tsawke needed a calming agent to aid with the loss of his final family member. Stories of the war had reached all Na’vi in all parts of the word; allowing hate to grow, and Tsawke’s mind to become muddled. The young male Na’vi fought not only with himself, but others upon his standing of dismissal on the Sky People. He had not been alive when the war had taken lives, but he understood tenderness—neutrality. He had no spurns with those of another world, and be it as naïve as it may; Tsawke stuck to his decision.
And so, he sat and he pondered. Listening to the music of the night, watching the light shows of all that lived; blessed by Eywa. He was young still, and justly so he was oblivious to the danger presented by humans. Much as his elder brother had told him. He replayed those fights over within his brain, until it became a jumbled mess of voices and he could no longer tell who had said what. There was still a lot of anger and distain within Pandora, and Rokure was no exception. You either accepted fate, or you fought against it to make a new path. There was no try, no maybe—he could never promise the impossible; but he could attempt to understand himself. In a world that was always changing, Tsawke allowed his mind time to rest, away from the voices of other Na’vi. Those who had not lost as he had, or those that had; of whom knew more of tragedy then the rider-offspring would ever grasp.
To fight as one, or to believe in yourself; that was the theme present in his conflicted conscience. Na’vi had quite the habit of bonding together, of sticking close with one another. He had never gone as far as to leave Rokure, but he did not feel the same sort of rush to adopt the way of most Na’vi. Mutely he mused over the possibility of being curious; he dismissed the thought. If he had been, why had he stayed when he brother had fled in a fury? He could have been the one to detach from the people. Then again, that might have meant certain death.
Sergei let out a disruptive snort from his nostrils; viper-like mouth open and stretching as if agitated from being in one position far too long. With a quiet consoling whisper from his bonded, the Banshee settled once more; slit pupils dancing down onto the leather his rider had scribbled all over. Cursing weakly in his native language; Tsawke pulled up his brush with the small engraving tool he had been working with. Somehow he had managed to spill the boiled dye all over the new (very time consuming) strap. Frowning at his ride, the Na’vi weakly scolded him for not alerting him sooner. Within his mind, after all, Tsawke was normally void of any sense; he—probably should have paid more attention.
Making a soft sound of grief, the pointed ears of the young male swiveled downwards. An odd look of sorrow overcoming him as he dabbed the excess away with his damp clothe. Thank goodness he had decided to take Sergei down near one of the springs. The material could be saved, but most of the gear would have to be properly doctored; setting back his plans a little more then what he had originally wanted. Rolling his yellow eyes, he met orbs with the ever-patient (yet persistent) eyes of Sergei. With a weak smile, he set down the tools and set out the piece to dry; stroking the long, flexible spine of his Irkan. Clicking his tongue softly, he cooed an appeasement out to the Banshee. It’s almost nightfall, surely you do not wish to ride this late? Sergei let out yet another loud crackling sound, nudging the hand roughly as Tsawke let out his breath and shrugged his shoulders. So much for a peaceful walk back to the Rokure. Allowing his Queue to attach with that of the Banshee; Tsawke was up and over onto his mount—and off.
Reflecting over the past could wait another day, right now—more urgent things called his attention. With a loud shriek, Sergei dove through the foliage and up into the sky; allowing a full view of his home to be displayed to him. Yes—he could definitely wait another day.
And so, he sat and he pondered. Listening to the music of the night, watching the light shows of all that lived; blessed by Eywa. He was young still, and justly so he was oblivious to the danger presented by humans. Much as his elder brother had told him. He replayed those fights over within his brain, until it became a jumbled mess of voices and he could no longer tell who had said what. There was still a lot of anger and distain within Pandora, and Rokure was no exception. You either accepted fate, or you fought against it to make a new path. There was no try, no maybe—he could never promise the impossible; but he could attempt to understand himself. In a world that was always changing, Tsawke allowed his mind time to rest, away from the voices of other Na’vi. Those who had not lost as he had, or those that had; of whom knew more of tragedy then the rider-offspring would ever grasp.
To fight as one, or to believe in yourself; that was the theme present in his conflicted conscience. Na’vi had quite the habit of bonding together, of sticking close with one another. He had never gone as far as to leave Rokure, but he did not feel the same sort of rush to adopt the way of most Na’vi. Mutely he mused over the possibility of being curious; he dismissed the thought. If he had been, why had he stayed when he brother had fled in a fury? He could have been the one to detach from the people. Then again, that might have meant certain death.
Sergei let out a disruptive snort from his nostrils; viper-like mouth open and stretching as if agitated from being in one position far too long. With a quiet consoling whisper from his bonded, the Banshee settled once more; slit pupils dancing down onto the leather his rider had scribbled all over. Cursing weakly in his native language; Tsawke pulled up his brush with the small engraving tool he had been working with. Somehow he had managed to spill the boiled dye all over the new (very time consuming) strap. Frowning at his ride, the Na’vi weakly scolded him for not alerting him sooner. Within his mind, after all, Tsawke was normally void of any sense; he—probably should have paid more attention.
Making a soft sound of grief, the pointed ears of the young male swiveled downwards. An odd look of sorrow overcoming him as he dabbed the excess away with his damp clothe. Thank goodness he had decided to take Sergei down near one of the springs. The material could be saved, but most of the gear would have to be properly doctored; setting back his plans a little more then what he had originally wanted. Rolling his yellow eyes, he met orbs with the ever-patient (yet persistent) eyes of Sergei. With a weak smile, he set down the tools and set out the piece to dry; stroking the long, flexible spine of his Irkan. Clicking his tongue softly, he cooed an appeasement out to the Banshee. It’s almost nightfall, surely you do not wish to ride this late? Sergei let out yet another loud crackling sound, nudging the hand roughly as Tsawke let out his breath and shrugged his shoulders. So much for a peaceful walk back to the Rokure. Allowing his Queue to attach with that of the Banshee; Tsawke was up and over onto his mount—and off.
Reflecting over the past could wait another day, right now—more urgent things called his attention. With a loud shriek, Sergei dove through the foliage and up into the sky; allowing a full view of his home to be displayed to him. Yes—he could definitely wait another day.
Made For : Lost Paradise – © Myself
Art from : Deviantart – © anndr[/size]
