Post by The Pied Piper on Feb 19, 2013 5:51:32 GMT
Alaric (The Pied Piper) Hart
. . . . .[/font]
They struggled in the cold
In the heat and the snow and in the rain
Came to hear him play
Play their minds away[/b][/size][/font]
. . . . .[/font]
Age: Physically twenty-two, immortal
Species: Legend
Kingdom: 6st
Occupation: Constantly changing, mostly horses and entertainment
Playby: Leonardo Dicapricio
Father: Josiah Hart
Mother: Megadale Peep
Siblings: Half sisters Bo Peep, Mary Mutton
Other:
Likes: Music, the pipe, bright colors, horses, traveling, admiration, dancing, festivals
Dislikes: Sleazy people, indoors, authority figures, dark colors, Miserable places, unappreciative audiences, mockery, executions
Strengths:[/size] Cunning, hypnosis expert, manipulative
Weaknesses:[/size] Sensitive, physically weak, manipulable through emotion
Personality:[/size][/font] The Piper is a complex man to say the least, he is two entirely different people when he's mad than when he's cheerful.
When the Piper gets angry, from betrayal, lies, mockery, he gets dangerous. Cunning, manipulative, vicious. The exact personality that led him to steal away all the children in Hamelin. Vengeful and the Piper knows how to hit where it hurts. He's manipulative to an extreme and there is nothing he hates more than people who break promises and turn on people. He considers them lower than slugs and certainly deserving of the same treatment. But thats just one side of the famous Pied Piper.
The side that Alaric Hart shows more often, with the dazzling smile and piping notes and his colorful garb. He's the love life kind and its not a rare sight to see him dancing through the streets, playing his pipe with his new found dog frisking around him. The Piper is simply cheerful by nature, he loves life, loves people, loves music. And of course, the Piper's mischievous side shows in more than his malice. Alaric will love to prank you, and a little warning; he's a certifiable pyromaniac.
The Piper of course, aside from being temperamental and manipulative, is also very sensitive. Nothing cuts him to the core like being ridiculed. He's very vain, but it doesn't take much to temporarily crush that. He's the kind that will flinch at a harsh insult and spend the next hour with his head down before managing a false smile and going back to his dancing. But when their isn't a direct attack on him, insouciant is one of the few ways to describe him. He only dances around, fickle in red and gold garb and laughs at the stares.
The Piper loves to have eyes on him, he's as vain as a cat and reacts the same to sunlight. Admiration to him is like water to a withered flower, he thrives under it and you can practically see him glowing. Its obvious when Alaric is in a good mood because his eyes sparkle and he seems practically lit from the inside. The happier the Piper is, the more elaborately he dresses. And while the cloth never changes, the jewelry does. Gold and sparkly gems are something Alaric adores. He's typically adorned with at least three rings, usually fairly bulky. But necklaces are a rarity. But that is the least reliable judge of his mood as its only to the mood he woke up it. Although don't put it past him to chuck a ring into the lake because he's in a foul mood.
Eyes:[/size] Two different shades of blue, right one is dark the left one is light
Hair:[/size] Shoulder length, rugged and dark blond
Physique:[/size]The Piper stands at a precise six feet, and is rapier thin weighing only 145 pounds. It makes him physically weak but beautiful and outstandingly supple. He has the flexibility and finesse of a professional dancer. His skin is tanned from long exposure to the sun and his hair, shoulder length and dark blonde has bright blond highlights in it from long summers without shelter.
He is kind of delicate boned, adding to his thin look that gives him almost the look of a stray dog thats surviving better than it should. Sleek and lean while still ragged from the streets. And that is basically how it goes. The Piper survives by dancing and playing by the street side, taking care of horses and entertaining at festivals when he can. Makes just enough to scrape by and it shows.
The Piper's facial features are the perfect good looks, almond shaped eyes with his exotic, one sky blue and one sapphire to top it off. And the perfectly shaped, pale lips that often show that he bites them.
And of course there is the Pied Piper's sense of fashion. He's changed from his old half red half gold, and now it is a blend of both in a classically stylish, but outrageously flamboyant outfit. With jewelry of a multitude of gold rings that he usually steal - or technically borrows since he always returns them-.
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History: [/font]The Pied Piper was born as Alaric Hart to the unmarried couple of Megadale Peep and Josiah Hart. A year younger than Bo Peep and a year older than Mary. Even if it was only a fling, the two stayed together for some time, even after she gave birth to the child she called Alaric. But of course things had to change. When Alaric was six, he and his father left, leaving the girls to fend for themselves.
The two moved far away, into a forest with a secluded house. It fit them both. So far Alaric had been notoriously antisocial, having no interest in conversation with anyone outside his sisters. Parents included. And thats how he grew up, with a father who talked less than him and only monthly visits to town. When Alaric turned ten, he started to wonder the forest. His rapidly aging father didn't particularly care. And so, everyday Alaric went a little further. Eventually, the day he turned twelve, his father planned to take him to town for it, and the boy went for a walk before it was time. The farthest into the forest he'd gone yet. And there, he heard a sound. The most glorious, high chiming noise he'd ever heard. Something that whispered a gentle seduction in his ear and made his blood race and his heart sore. He followed the noise to a small cabin in the first clearing he'd ever seen in the woods.
Alaric listened and watched through a window and watched a old woman playing at a pipe, with birds swarming around her window crying to be let in and animals frisking at the edge of the clearing. But he couldn't make himself move away. And abruptly the woman lowered the pipe and called out to him "Come in little one, listen to me play where I can see your face." And her voice was the same as her pipe in a different way, rough, old but still as hypnotizing as the most innocent voice. So he went in.
For hours she played and he listened, and every half an hour, she'd lower the pipe and talk to him. Night fell and the day rose again. But she didn't say anything and he didn't notice. And abruptly, as night fell again, the notes changed. The song seemed to speak of sin, temptation. It whispered all his dreams to him and how it would feel if he'd just give in. And then she lowered the pipe again and started to speak. "How would you like it, Alaric? To have a instrument with the voice like a snake's whisper and a angel's song? You could have it you know, for a price?" And the song was still in his mind, making it so he didn't notice that she used the name he hadn't even told her. Or that she was like the witches his father had warned him about. And she kept talking. "You never liked life did you? Your father was just someone who took care of you, there was always something wrong with little Bo. Mary is little to you. Can't even remember your mother. What is that to you? I can give you the world. Just let it all go. Give it to me, I would love it so much more."
The witch had him, and the twelve year old boy traded all the memories of his life before. For the pipe she carved before his eyes of rosewood. Embalmed in a strange oil. Then she took it away, and worked alone in a different room. But when she came back, she handed it to him and suddenly he remembered nothing.
She called him 'Alaric Hart' and told him that he'd best be on his way. So he left. And wandered the place he no longer remembered with nothing but the clothes on his back. And a pipe that seemed to sing soundless every time he touched it. Eventually he found the town that they'd been planning to visit. And thoughtless and confused, the boy sat down in a corner and started to play. He was a natural, even off-key in the beginning it sounded beautiful. Within ten minutes he'd established a rhythm and had summoned a crowd. One woman started the trend by dropping a few coins in his lap. By the end of the night, his lungs were aching and he had enough money for a meal and a roof over his head.
Alaric's life continued that way and eventually he figured out how to work the magic of the pipe, learning how the hypnosis worked and how to make it follow the softest command like an eager dog. He played by the streets every morning, made enough to survive and did his best with hypnosis when he didn't. But eventually, about six months later he was driven out. The mayor and a few less tolerant people had grown tired of the money his small payment was taking from society. He went willingly, unwilling to overstay his welcome. He learned how to survive the hard way, because while a woman had pointed him in the direction of the nearest neighboring town, it was a ways away. In the end it was his pipe that saved him. He learned more powers from it as desperation grew. Learned how to play fruit into growth, coax wild animals into assisting him. He also discovered the exhaustion that followed the more complex ones. First fruit he grew from a blossom put him unconscious for an hour but eventually made up for itself. The more intelligent the animal the more it tired him to work with them.
But eventually Alaric made it to the town. He was promptly taken in by a frazzled innkeeper who kicked him into a corner with his pipe the moment he was awake and recovered. He drew her crowds and she kept him fed. They reached the arrangement without even really talking about it. When he left three months later with a traveling family he still didn't know her name and she didn't know his. Her gruff, stern nature didn't allow for any kind of closeness.
The next place he stayed at was a gypsy camp. He was loved there. The merry, restless people were nothing like the stern, harried town people he was used to. For the first time aside from drunks in the tavern he witnessed people dancing to his pipe. He loved it. And dressed in the colorful gypsy garb he got his name from a merchant; The Pied Piper. It stuck for someone who had no attachment to his own name. It became his identity, who he was. By the time the week was out and the merchant had left, he was The Pied Piper to anyone who watched him.
He learned how to dance to his own music and make people laugh in sheer delight just from watching him from a little gypsy girl a year younger than him. It was two years before he left there, when he was fourteen and nearly fifteen.
He left with the girl's family and they stayed for a month, and before they left, the girl carved a rose on the base of his pipe. Something to remember her by. The carving is still there today, only barely faded by the dynasties of time. This new town was larger, and unlike any other place he'd been to. There were festivals. Times at least once a year where traders and city people came to dance, laugh and shop. He loved them. And by the second festival there was a place in the street unofficially reserved for him; The Pied Piper. He made more money at the festivals than he ever had before.
And so finally, the Piper found a place where he was happy. Third year he had a permanent room in the inn in exchange for quarter of his weekly earnings. He became famous in the town within the first three weeks of his time there, and by that third year he was famous six towns over. Everyone talked about the Pied Piper with his colorful garb, sparkling eyes and the pipe with a voice what will whisper like a incubus in your ear for nights to come.
Years passed and the Piper was content in the town, dancing and playing in the streets or in the tavern all night and sleeping the day away. He loved it all. The owner of the inn was a different kind of woman than the old one was. Barely even an adult and had inherited the inn from her dead parents. She was young and loved him because he made her laugh.
And his fame grew, by the time he turned nineteen over half the kingdom knew his name. He was The Pied Piper who was a magician and a entertainer, said to lure rats and drunks out of the bar with a few piping notes. As he began to get requests for his assistance from various places, he put together his outfit. Which fit his fame even better than the gypsy outfit did. Half gold and half crimson- he was truly the Pied Piper. And of course, then on his twentieth year, the Hamelin job came along. He'd heard rumors of course of the town overrun by rats. And it called out to him with a siren's voice. A chance to resume his travels and ease his restless spirit, a challenge, enough money to bring him and Allana the innkeeper back from the ditch the hard year had put them in. And so he went.
The first site of Hamelin did the work on dampening his usually bright spirits that hard travels and hunger hadn't done. The place was dark, damp, rats lurked in corners and beady eyes stared out of every hole and dark patch. And so the Piper went to the town center, listening at the door to their talking. And then he knocked.. The overweight councilmen that looked more bitter than sleazy to his naive eyes didn't notice him until he spoke. And so he tempted them, coaxed the people that hadn't heard of his fame and put up his price.
And then he went into the streets. Played a few notes that sang to every rat in the town, called them to him, spoke of comfort and food. Of a world that they could eat wherever they went. And then he began to move, the notes increased and sang armies of the rats to his feet. Black rats, brown rats, gray rats, albino rats. Scrawny, buff, fat, starving. They all swarmed the streets from every corner and every house. And he led them through the roads, dancing as he went, delighted at the ease he controlled their natures. And he led them to the river, and into the water.
The one that escaped meant nothing but a spreading of his fame. They would never come back now. And The Pied Piper returned to the town square, watched them delight and celebrate. But when he requested his pay, he was refused. Told they couldn't pay him now. And the Piper's sensitive nature made him snap. He'd never been betrayed like this before, turned on yes, drawn into brawls by irrational drunkards. But the world had let him stay naive, and now he was abruptly betrayed by these people that he saved.
And he spoke his piece, listened to the snide dismissal and took a few steps back. And then the Piper started to play again. Three notes and he called them all. The children, boys and girls came running to him, already laughing and dancing in delight at the sound. And he began to play a tune, one that spoke of clear days and hours of freedom and play. Music, laughter and dance without a stern voice to call them away. And the Piper began to lead them away, watching th council and mayor stare in dumb-struck horror.
He led them away from the water, tormenting the people with the idea before moving towards the hill. And then- as much a shock to him as anyone else- a portal opened before them. And still dancing and playing, the Piper led them through, only seeing out of the corner of his eye the lame boy trying to catch up with them. And then the portal shut. Still playing looked around, at the meadow and the small hut at the edge. Where a woman watched them with a small smile.
And he left them there, with the kind witch that promised that they would live forever in happiness. Never to grow old, never to be in danger. And the Piper returned in the dead of night to Hamelin. And on a whim, he tracked down the lame boy. And slipped through his window. And there in the shadows, The Pied Piper watched the child trying to sleep, unaware of his presence. And the Piper began to play. A soothing charm that had him out in seconds.
And the Piper left, not to return to his old town. But to continue his travels. He never settled again, flitting from town to town and eventually from Kingdom to Kingdom. A year later, he returned briefly to Hamelin. Just lingered outside the gates. Only a see a dog lying on its side outside the walls. It was an ugly thing by normal standards, with a scarred scruffy coat of black and tan, no definite markings just fading from one color to another. And each of its bones was heavy defined. Starved and abandoned. A rough leather collar was around it's throat, right enough to scuff and irritate skin.
And the Piper approached it, tried to sooth it with his voice, but the moment he came closer than five feet, the thing lurched up, snapping and snarling like it wanted nothing more than a piece of him. And so he pulled out his pipe, playing a few notes and watching and awe as it kept growling, giving him this baleful look like it wanted to take his throat out. But this time it let him near. And as long as he kept playing the dog didn't attack him, and he fed it. Gave the animal all the meat he had and tried to take the color off. The Piper still has the scar to this day. The teeth sank nearly to the bone. But the dog released him immediately and just started watching him again, not even retreating.
And when the Piper got up to leave, the dog followed. Eventually the two started to bond. He didn't name the dog, but Bones, was something he called him sometimes. Bones because the teeth were just the length to bite that deep, and he had a strength in his jaws to break it, and finally; it was months before his ribs weren't countable from a distance.
The Piper's travels increased as soon as the dog was recovered enough to travel, and finally he was moving to quickly to really keep up with news. Especially with the dislike of houses he developed over years in the woods. He managed to escape most of the early parts of the war. Though the biggest news was unavoidable. And entertainers pick things up. And so Piper started becoming more involved in society, working as a stable boy on occasional, picking up more jobs as a Piper, even some mercenary work. But he was always The Pied Piper. In the end; he could hardly remember his old name.
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Role-play Example:
"Life is such a glorious trauma, no?" The Pied Piper ran a calloused hand over the dog's thick, rough fur, feeling the leather collar the animal would never let him remove. He had recent marks to prove the fact. But at least Bones would let him touch it now. It was only when he tried to take it off that the teeth came out. The blonde piper smirked, glancing at the sunset that had sparked his thoughts. It was still scorching, giving his swarthy skin a red tinge. He loved sunsets, loved the way they made his skin gleam and highlighted his hair while he danced in their light.
It was like a natural spotlight. Making everything more clear and more poignant to set his stage. The Piper shook out his hair, small smile still in place. It looked like the smile of someone who knew better but was still doing it, or someone who knew about the bat in the cupboard but wasn't planning on telling. Slight, mischievous, not really disguised. Like he was having a laugh in his own little world.
The Piper's smile grew a centimeter, his hand threading through the short, course fur of the dog's scruff. His pipe hung around his throat from the red, gold and blue scarf. The colors should have clashed, and in a way they did. The same way he clashed with normal society. Drawing eyes and open stares. And delighting in them. He loved the fact that no one could look at him and not look twice. Scruffy, poor, odd. And the twinkle in his eyes and the small smile always led to two conclusions; that he was mad. Or that he'd just set the barn on fire. The Piper gave a short laugh, the sound rang like the notes on his pipes. Alluring, singing of bright sunshine and days of dancing to endless music. He had a voice that turned every laugh into a promise of joy. And his pipe made sure it wasn't misleading.
"The sad thing is Bones, a glorious trauma is still a trauma. The glorious part just makes it easier to come out like we did."
. . . . .
Name: Sapphire
Location: California. North California. Where stepping outside doesn't mean bikinis. It means duck; your about to get five pounds of snow dumped on your head.
RP Experience: Erm... I honestly have no clue. Time flies.
How You Found Us Msn XDD Funny accident with our dear admin Beastie.
Fun Fact About You: Help! I'm drowning in animals -suffocates under three cats and a dog-
Credit for template goes to remedysweet of Caution 2.0. and belle of LAR. Made for LEGENDS ARE REAL RPG. All rights reserved. 2010. [/size][/center]