Post by Kellen Decker on May 30, 2016 14:59:38 GMT
Kellen Finn Decker
PLAY BY: Chace Crawford
-- the basics --
AGE: 25
GENDER: Male
ORIENTATION: Heterosexual
POSITION: Soldier
ALLEGIANCE: Chevaliers----------------------------------------------------------------------------- the character --
HEIGHT: 5'8''
HAIR COLOR: Brown
EYE COLOR: Light blue
MISC: There are no noticeable scars or birthmarks. However, he does possess the remnants of a small knife injury on his right shoulder. If was from his days as a street urchin. Perhaps he pissed of a man he shouldn't have, or the man pissed him off. Whatever the result he oftentimes doesn't share that story.
PERSONALITY: Kellan is considered the perfect soldier. Though with some minor flaws and complications. He would follow his superior's order to the word without any question. He had already been through several experiences that have put his childhood on the fast track to being a mature adult. The things that he has seen on the street before enlisting had changed his naive, boyish rogue behavior, into a soldier with strong potential. Though he still fights the demons that linger in his past. They oftentimes whisper rumors of war and self-doubt. They play with his head and pull at the strings of his heart and soul. Throughout the years he has gotten better at keeping them in line. As the Chevaliers is an Order of men, not boys. He keeps these demons locked up tight within the fabrications of his soul. He feels as though they would burst the seems at any moment - he has trained his mind and body to become a weapon. He has taken a more serious note on his position in life. No longer the young roguish teenage boy he once had been. He considers himself to be a soldier. In an attempt to keep a stiff upper lip and take what life decides to throw his way. He would better off be a dog picking at a bone. He wants to find a way to break free. As the demons in his mind are often too much for him to handle. He keeps them locked up, indefinitely.
It is here within the recession of his soul that his demons live and breed. He often feels as though they are watching the world through his eyes. Laughing at him as he grows into the soldier that Goldcrest expects. Despite his demons waiting for release he is loyal to a point. Though he doesn't keep much company in the way of friends. Or as the rest of the battalion refers to as "brothers". He never really felt one of the guys. Always something that is out of place. Perhaps his perspective on the world has been shattered. Ever since being abandoned to the streets. It forced him to find ways to survive. Just another nobody roaming the city streets. Scrounging for food materials. It has left him with broken prospect. That something is always missing. That something is in need of being sought out. Therefore he is often always disconnected from the world. Instead of going to the exercise yard with his unit he would much prefer vanishing to the library. Or finding a nice hill to overlook the stars that blanket the sky. He is always trapped in his own mind. A steel box that keeps him locked.
He is a boy trapped in a man's body with a naive look on the world. Trapped in his own he is a prisoner of his own self-sacrifice. Always relieving the past in innumerable ways, going over each scenario. Though he keeps a hardened interior to avoid revealing information about his past. His outward demeanor is more of a serious and a gentle heart. One would be remiss to believe that his time in the street would have made him violent or untrustworthy. His insistence that humanity has to be healed in one or another is a testament to his resolve. Though his quite nature is somewhat of things that had been experienced in a past life he very much wants to help others. This believe was born while being on the street. Despite the harsh conditions of an impoverished lifestyle he still chose to give rather than take. There was a moment in his past where he walked down the street brooding, wrapped in a wool blanket. There had been a woman shivering in an alley, curled up against a wall, as if the bricks would give her warmth. He gave her his blanket. For he would find another. Nothing in this life is ever lost. But it is regained in another fashion. He believes that his service with the Chevaliers is a way of balancing out a life that had been weak and unproductive. He hopes that his dedication to the Chevaliers and the Enclave will see him to a place in the end that acknowledges that he is not a bad person. That he would be absolved of his demons. His sins, all of it. The people that he hurt in the past. They would forgive him as well. That somewhere at the end things work out.
His dedication to the Chevaliers is wrought with doubt. Loyal to the end he can be seen as a Chevalier dog. Following their orders to the letter without hesitation. His strength and resolve had been renewed upon enlisting. He fights for social justice and independence. A champion that people can look on him with respect. Perhaps it his way of ascending from a life of being a no one. However much his demons attempt to hold him down and keep him from his ultimate goal whatever that may be. He lives every day as a task, a challenge that paves the road with good intention. His strength works as a life raft for others to float upon. For he fears that his demons will drown him should he drop or fail to take the place on top. Should he be claimed by his own self-degradation then he would have truly failed. For his demons know how to swim if they have been keeping up this long. He will rise above them and vanquish them one day. His loyalty to his Order and those that prove their own brevity and chivalry will be defended until his death. He believes that everyone is susceptible. Fighting the injustice that is a plague within society is something that he has pledged his life to vanquishing. Though he believes honestly that he would never be such a champion. There is too much riding on him. Doubts. Demons. Fears. His one true fear is failure. Indefinitely.----------------------------------------------------------------------------- the history --
Kellen never knew his parents. Nor does he know who they were. His entire life he had been raised on the streets of Goldcrest. A drifter. Moving between intermittent settlements set up in abandoned parts of the city. He had learned the city so well that he could traverse one end to the other in under an hour. Growing up on the streets gave him a certain edge. Street smarts as it were. He learned to barter/haggle, steal, run, hide. All elements that kept a street urchin alive and well. Though one thing has never changed. A thing entrenched so deep inside his soul that it would be hard to get rid of. He has always harbored a strong need to help others. He would give up certain things in his life to ensure that other's lived more comfortably. Blankets, food, water, sleeping space. The more he lived his live on the streets the more he realized that things were just material. All one really needs to survive is the will to survive. Therefore he had achieved a sort of reputation in the poorer side of the city. A young Robin Hood of sorts. At such a time when the city had seen war, hunger, political unrest. He was always willing to lend a hand. In fact one such family in the poor district had run out of ample ways to pay for their food. With three children to feed that had no way to survive. They were dead.
Kellen did not let it stop there however. He found himself in the bazaar. Gravitated towards the food stall that was owned by a loud, obnoxious fat man. He had sold diary. Cheese from all over. Fresh produce that he claimed to be grown locally. But he bought it from a trader who possessed it from another trader and another trader. Kellen crept to the stall as nobody would believe that he had any coin dressed in a bedraggled roughspun tunic. He lifted the cheese wedge and tucked it under his tunic. It was in his attempt to return to the family that he was revealed. Someone had witnessed the pick. They raised their voice and in a heartbeat the loud stall owner called for the city guard. Within a blink of an eye there were two patrol men hot on his heels. Kellen can recall to this day how fast his feet carried him. He spun, ducked, lept, and tore his way through the bazaar to give a dying family a wedge of cheese. If only it bought them an extra few days. He would risk everything and all to ensure that those people could survive. Moments like these were the times that made him feel the most alive. It was when he wasn't stealing or picking food or water or even coin that he found himself brooding. His mind running a mile a minute. Oftentimes causing him more afraid to be alive and what would happen tomorrow. Respectfully.
He learned many things on the street. The most important aspect was being able to survive. Picking a fight when it needed picked. And running when it was time to fight another day. It was a strange livelihood for such a young child. But he had strength. Confidence. A growing war inside his soul. To witness such suffering and poverty in the world he survives. One day while laying under a bridge in the city huddling up for warmth he told himself he would be someone. He never slept much. His daydreams were filled with gallant battles and a pretty woman on his arm. Every morning brought another reason to prove that he had nothing. No one. However one day he met a man. This man was named Tobias. And he had claimed to know his parents. Tobias, despite being a ripe age of 70, taught the young boy had to clench a fist. They got along well. Almost as if Kellen was the old man's grandson. He would shadow the old man who could pick a noble's pocket, making his hand disappear and lift a coin pouch like air. Kellen was impressed and sought to learn more. Tobias would always say "there is a time for everything, my boy." The catchphrase was something that was repeated every day. Perhaps to keep Kellan constantly aware that things could change in a heartbeat. Which had been the case one day when Tobias told him that he never knew his parents. Though.
Tobias made this sickening chuckle. Somewhere caught between a wheeze. That moment was the first time in history that Kellen felt a hot anger surge through his body. Though he did not strike the old man for his insolence. The old man brought Kellen to a knee with a whack of his cane. It had come two years after they had been together. Kellen remembered with eyes hot as fire as tears blinded him. In this strange man's mercy. Tobias looked down at him with a twisted toothy smile. He brought the cane up as if to strike him in the head. But as the cane came down Kellen managed to catch the shaft and yank it from the man's hand. He tossed it in the river. With a spin and a great big yell as he angrily let the can loose as far as it would fly. He rounded on the old man and said he had taken away the man means to walk. Tobias cackled. And responded that he would find another way. Kellen felt a smirk crease his face. A smirk that was not enthused. It was a lesson to be learned. They grew distant. It was when the old man was sentenced to hang for a crime did Kellen wish to be present during the execution. During the proceedings it was revealed that the old man had been a grifter. In a past life the man was a criminal. So was Kellen. It was another lesson.
It seemed as if the old man managed to pick him out in the crowd. As the lever was pulled and the platform ejected him underneath his feet. Kellen can recall the very whites of the man's eyes. It was a look of purpose. That the old man had found his peace. It was time for Kellan to find his. Stop this war. He enlisted in the Chevaliers. In a crusade to fight for those that needed it most. Nothing would change that. Until he met a woman. And found himself a prisoner of himself again. Forbidden love.----------------------------------------------------------------------------- the player --
USERNAME: Likk
AGE GROUP: 26
EXPERIENCE: 9 years
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