Blind Mouse, See how he runs
Rhylsoemr Halusyn
A serious Sea Wolf lancer hailing from Vylbrand. Rarely seen in civilization, he comes across as a gruff, blunt, and stoic man who takes a long time to warm to others. Take things slow, and you may find a friend in him - but try too hard or go too fast and he'll leave you in the dust.
Appearance
| Clan: | Sea Wolf |
| Nameday: | Fourth Sun of Third Umbral Moon (6/4) |
| Age: | 27 |
| Height: | 7'1" |
| Homeland: | Aleport, Western La Noscea |
| Family: | Swarrael Hollstyrwyn (mother), R'halu Nunh (stepfather), Rhylbryn Halusyn (twin brother), R'thipra Tia (stepbrother) |
| Jobs: | Lancer, Warrior |
At just over 7 feet tall, Rhylsoemr is straddling the line of minimum average height for a Roegadyn. Of course, this means nothing when there aren't any other Roegadyn around, but it creates an important caveat: for as much as he seems to not want to be seen, he sticks out like a sore thumb when around the other Eorzean races. Even as he attempts to shrink into the shadows cast by tavern stairwells or use furniture to block lines of sight, it's his size that's often the culprit of him getting noticed. If his size isn't what's outing him, though, it's his bulk - like many Roegadyn, there's hardly a spot on his body that isn't covered in thick muscle rewarded from physical labor. Maybe a shinobi of his size could hide with it, but given the size of his arms and the lack of silence to his lumbering gait, it's clear there's no shinobi here.In the darkness, he's a large shadow that can't hide; but what's he in the light? A lot, actually; pale green skin is effective at hiding white scars until you look close enough. Long lines spanning from shoulder to lower arm, shorter lines cutting into the callouses on his hands; a few marring the skin on his face, with one prominently stretching from just above his left brow to the middle of his cheek. It's all a history of fighting and hunting, something he can hide as much as he can hide himself away. He looks almost...wrong in casual clothing and short sleeves, but thanks to the ingenuity and skill of two certain individuals, he doesn't need to constrain himself anymore to the tight corset-like design of the armor, nor bear the incessant rattling of chainmail hidden beneath the leather. For as much as 'civilian clothes' clash with his ragged mop of knife-cut brown hair and show those scars, it's clear to see he breathes easier than his hideaway demeanor should allow.Even if his appearance is more relaxed, though, one thing will always remain guarded and reserved: his eyes. No matter where he goes or who he's with, the 'sunglasses' shielding his eyes are a constant reminder of his seclusion. 'Sunglasses' are somewhat of a misnomer, though; while they do indeed shield his eyes, the lens tint goes beyond protection and into the realm of 'one -way window'. Why would someone like Rhylsoemr need such protection? Only he, and a few select others, know.
Personality
To say that Rhylsoemr is the essence of the word 'subdued' wouldn't be an overstatement. He may as well be an unyielding wall of stoicism and solitude whenever he steps out of his reclusion, even when surrounded by the few people he knows. Said reclusion, paired with a face that hardly emotes, makes for an impression that he's an introvert and social misfit to the extreme; add in his imposing height and flat tone of voice, and that impression can evolve into dismissiveness and lack of empathy. Nothing about his behavior in public settings will attempt to fight this view of him, but those that work with him would say that he's just not one for pleasantries. A business-focused mind seems to be what allows him to step out of his seclusion and survive the onslaught of societal expectations.Something akin to soberness seems to cling tightly to him like a second suit of armor, seeping out with nearly every slow, stilted, and halted word he speaks: a sad sort of realism and levelheadness that cautions against over-eagerness and irrational hope. This isn't the say that he's the type of man to dash a hopeful person's dreams or to catastrophize about the dangers of untested ideas - rather, it's like he's the type of man that once dreamed big but never achieved it. It's simply...caution.What if you were to find him out of the public eye, though? Something familiar, yet different. The quietness and solitude that embodies this Roegadyn remains, but their edges soften. Whether deep in shadowed forests or exposed to the blistering desert sun, not much seems to faze him at all - though unlike situations where this is channeled into a blank expression and equally blank tone of voice, here his demeanor is calm and collected, almost relaxed. One can never fully relax when wild beasts and ill-intentioned people roam about, but his knowledge and skills of the outdoors and fighting allows him a good measure of peace. He might even lower his guard some - though as soon as he knows he's being watched, up it goes again.
Abilities
To say that Rhylsoemr is a strong, independent man is an understatement. Years of living off the land and taking hunting jobs for gil have made him an adept survivalist and combatant, and if a situation were to involve him that he doesn't have the knowledge for...well, strength goes far in Hydaelyn. Rare is it when he isn't spotted near one of his weapons - his original wicked guisarme, or his gifted Eastern naginata - and these calloused hands are well-adept in handling them in even the most dire situation. With aggressive strikes and seemingly unending stamina, it seems his goal is not to just beat the enemy, but to brutalize them. However, to those trained in the art of the lancer, a keen eye might spy that this Roegadyn likely was self-taught at first, then received official training much later in life. They're small tells: an attacking stance that starts stiff, only to relax a beat later; an odd grip on weaponshafts that quickly adjusts to optimal; the small reminders to himself to charge his swings and stabs with aether, even when his reserves are plentiful, to name a few. Though few and far between, many of his mistakes are reminiscent of novice transitioning into proper mastery, and from even further back, someone who once used an axe instead of a spear.And yet, for all his size, strength, reach, and aggression, he's a paradoxically hard target to hit. His large lances allow him to strike out of reach of most melee weapons, and he thrives in this distance; rarely will he step any closer than is absolutely necessary, even if the goal is total annihilation of the enemy. And for the times when getting close and personal are necessary to survival, Rhylsoemr is oddly evasive, ducking and weaving every which way to avoid even the faintest scratch or bruise. Of course, his technique isn't infallible; his scars and regular injuries tell tales of his failures. Why does he do this, then, when injury is inevitable? It almost reeks of desperation.
Gallery
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Commission Credits (in order). All paint strokes to hide Rhylsoemr's eyes are done by me.
Fauvora/Faces of Eorzea (Twitter and contact information no longer exists)
OOC
Hello! Thank you for reading Rhylsoemr's carrd!I'm a bit of a shy person who likes my anonymity, and don't give out my contact information unless I get to know you. Sorry!Some little factoids about me:
I'm an aro/ace nonbinary person. Call me whatever you like - I use any/all pronouns.
I play in the PST/PDT timezone and work a 9-5 job. Unfortunately, this means I can't stay up too late RPing!
Feel free to /tell or walkup at any time! Soemr may look like a grump, but I'm not!
If we're first getting to know each other, I prefer to RP lighter/casual themes.
Typically, I mirror your RP style. If you're a para-RPer, so am I. If you prefer to stick to two sentences, I'll stick to them too!
Romantic relationship RP or ERP isn't my thing. Apologies! This is both IC and OOC.
Please don't randomly /random at my characters for attempted attacks, steals, etc. If you want to try something, please talk with me first. Vice versa, I'll communicate with you if I have any ideas! RP is a two-way street, and consent is key to a fun time.
Sorry, I don't use mods! Please tell me if your character has a special appearance!
If you have any questions, feel free to message me!
Little Rhylsoemr Halusyn once yearned to step out into the bright sunlight streets of Aleport. To talk with the children his age throwing rocks into the ocean, sit on the ledge of the great wall and dangle his feet over the empty air, to live and be free.But when all he got were confused stares and narrowed eyes, wrinkled noses like smelling something foul, and delayed words hiding the inability to put feelings to words, those simple ambitions shriveled up and withered in his heart.
He tried to be like his brother, who spoke soothing and placating words to those who stared and followed them. He failed when his words became as whispers in the wind, his head bowed under the weight of it all.He tried to escape them, leaving Aleport behind each morning for the rich golden fields beyond its walls. He failed when he eventually had to return home each night, lest he become prey for the beasts and never be seen again.He tried to make a friend to lean on, with whom he'd never suffer loneliness nor worry about being betrayed. He failed when the forced separation became all the more clear, and his friend's presence only drew more attention.
His first success came at a price. When the children of Aleport became emboldened and struck him, he struck back. For the price of a child's broken arms and his captivity in a jail cell, he won averted gazes and silence...for a time.Soon, they transformed into fearful and disapproving ones, sharp and cutting. But he learned to survive the silent battlefield with an unwieldy axe strapped to his back and a discovered love for hunting. His blood sang from adrenaline outside the city walls; his expression steeled within them.
Eventually, he saved the life of his brother and friend. The gouges in his face left by coeurl claws kept him in bedrest. But when he finally stood again, Aleport thanked him with a caricature of himself snarling like a rabid, dying animal.At first, he refused it. But then he looked in the mirror and saw it, too. In the glass shattering, he heard the accusations in his own voice.And so he ran into the wilds, to hide away from himself and those who would see him as a beast as well.
