[Demotheus]

General Information

Name: Demotheus Drahven

Race: Mesalian

Age: 29

Gender: Male

Birthplace: Small village on several leagues inland from the coast.

Appearance

Appearance:
Height: 5 feet 9 inches
Hair: Shoulder length scraggly black hair.
Face: Think of the Happy Mask Salesman's face. His is similar in shape, or at least the shape of his head is similar. He has a thin, almost feminine nose. He has a small beard or "soul patch" (or is it goatee?) but it comes down a little bit, about 2 inches/5 centimeters.
Eyes: Bright green eyes. They are usually wide open and gives him a rather eccentric energetic look.
Body: He is very slender with longer arms than most. He is made for more agile movement, which is obvious. His fingers are quite long and almost bony, and are good for very precise.
Distinguishing Marks: N/A
Currently Wearing: A black somewhat expensive merchant long sleeve shirt that buttons up the middle. It has a tailcoat (hard to explain what I'm talking about here) and he has simple traveling pants on. He wears a grey undershirt under the trench coat. He will sometimes wear an extra cloak over this that covers him from head to ankle (with the hood up, that is, otherwise just shoulders to ankle).

Character Personality TRAITS

Character Traits

Positive:

-Musically inclined/Artistic:
Ever since he met Belle he had always been interested in these things. Music and Art are apart of his life at this point.

-Friendly: He likes people, for the most part. He's had a great deal of experience with socializing and talking to people and his salesman profession dictates that he must show respect and smile, and usually he means it well enough as most people are potential customers or sources of conversation.

-Confident: Though sometimes cocky about his abilities. He likes to try and boost himself up wherever he can. He has had some praise for his skills by his friends/coworkers and the occasional passerby when he might be playing his piccolo or working on some kind of project.

-Animated: He relies heavily on tone of voice and body language to communicate, and not merely just through simple dialogue. He is far from monotone. He had to develop this sort of gimmick to seem more interesting, and more excited and sure of his work and his coworkers work as well, as to not bore potential customers. Eventually it simply became apart of him. As a result he could also be looked as energetic.

-Passionate: When it comes to the things that interest him, such as his art, work and music, he is very passionate and almost excited when it becomes the topic of a conversation. If he isn't animated beforehand, he sure as nether will be when some sort of topic that interests him comes up.

-Perceptive: He notices certain things about people that could help him relate to them and try and offer them something they might want. He developed this through years of interaction with people on a business and somewhat social level.

Neutral:

-Realistic: He is realistic, or a realist. Though, this can oftentimes lead to cowardice in the face of a difficult situation and he would never deny such a claim either. He is unlikely to put his life on the line for someone else if he's sure he can't do much about it, and almost certain to not do so if he feels at risk of being maimed, injured, or mutilated in any way, shape or form.

-Social: This stems from his friendliness. He doesn't like to be isolated. Sometimes he gets a little irritable if he feels ignored. Being social is one of the high points of his day. If he hasn't socialized with someone for a while he gets a upset, sometimes, feeling that he might be doing something wrong. This stems from his business life as well, because if he is being ignored he's not making sales. If he's not making sales, he's not making a profit of any kind and if he isn't doing that he's failing. This would extend to his social life.

- He is not quick to blame others for things, especially when there is no proof of them having done it. Though, he can get suspicious at times he will not usually speak of it unless it becomes too bothersome. This came from when his first "love", Belle, died - or rather, was executed - for a crime that he believes she did not commit, as there was no real evidence of it.

Negative:

-Cowardly: If he is presented with a situation that seems threatening he won't have anything to do with it if he can help it. Such situations strip him of his confidence and shake him up.

Judgemental (Or assuming. not sure which it could be.): This stems from his ability to perceive what others might like and use that to make money from it and have them walk away happy with what they bought. This means that he will often judge people based off of first impressions and how that first impression matches up with the different stereotypes of people he's come across, which can offend people sometimes. If someone is rumored to be of a bad sort he will stay away from them just in case, judging them based off of rumors alone, sometimes. This is not to say that he believes the rumors, but rather takes a "better safe than sorry" stance on it. Basically, no one ever told him the phrase "to assume makes an ass out of u and me!"

- He can't stand being dirty or messy in any way, and he doesn't like it when other people are either. If he has something wrong with his appearance than he will most certainly fix it as soon as he can. If someone else has something that annoys him wrong with their appearance (such as stray hairs, cowlicks, sloppily worn clothing, etc.) he will likely make a comment or try to fix it himself.

- Slightly Racist towards Xitians. It's more of a fear of the unknown and a "what if" it's all true sort of deal than a hatred. He hasn't had the chance to come in contact with any Xitians and only knows the generic appearance and some rather nasty stories from other hateful racists. He doesn't believe all the stories fully, but he does to an extent, so he is weary around these people.

-Can not read or write: He never really got around to reading and writing as it wasn't needed for his purposes in life, at least to a large extent. However, he can understand the symbols that signify numerals.

Personality

General Type : ESFP

Demotheus is very extroverted. If he isn't focused on something such as his work he will want attention and companionship. Unlike some people he very much enjoys his work. In fact, he hardly considers it work at all. "Working hard" for him is still more or less considered as a sort of productive play time. He is quite generous. He's never really wanted anything more than he's ever had for material possessions. Almost all of his interests can be produced by himself. If he has food, water and is living somewhat comfortably he will be fairly content. If he has someone to talk to or show off his skills and art to he will be quite happy, especially if it seems that someone actually cares about him or his work. He values trust, kindness, generosity, and conversation when it comes to his relationships. If he tries to talk to someone who is quite shy and introverted and that person doesn't respond enough he won't be very interested in them and will quickly abandon attempts at communicating with that person. He doesn't have any real specific goals for his life. All he wants is to grow old, look back on his life and be happy with how it turned out as a whole. Most of his goals are short term and are more or less for self gratification to get closer to this end goal of having a life he can die happy with. This value causes him to be more upbeat and try to not do things that could bring his mood down. He has trouble with completing very many goals and will usually focus on two or three at a time. He can be somewhat judgemental. As a result he can end up coming off as rude if he judges wrong. His judgements go much on stereotypes that he has produced himself. If you look a certain way he will assume you're a certain way until otherwise specified. This was to aid in his ability to sell specific things to specific sorts of people, and usually it has worked. He is a realist. He doesn't often think of the glass as half full or half empty. He thinks there's two sides to every situation with many different possibilities, many of which he will not likely predict. He weighs his decisions based off of this mindset most of the time, unless he is afraid. The man is a coward and he will not deny it should one call him out on it. He is not proud of it, he merely accepts and embraces it. If presented with a situation where he feels injury could come to him then he will most certainly not have anything to do with it. Unless, of course, a close friend is on the line. If this is the case then he just might act, but if it's just his neck and/or someone else's on the line that he doesn't know he won't be sticking it out. He's also not one for manual labour and will often try to get out of it if someone tries to ask such a favour. He doesn't like to get dirty. He prides himself on his appearance and being presentable. After all, you wouldn't buy something from someone who looks like a bum. Why would you talk to someone like that either? This also gets pushed on others sometimes, though he'll try not to be rude about it. He might make a slight comment if they are too far gone or even fix some issues with other people's problems himself, such as a crooked piece of clothing or some hairs that look like they are trying to escape their owners scalp. He is very uncomfortable around Xitians, though he doesn't know it yet. He hasn't had much to do with Xitians and knows only what has happened through the War of Veld and many rumours. He doesn't fully believe some of them, but he can't help but be weary of the question "What if?". As far as he's concerned, he's better safe than sorry. He will often come off as rude to Xitians because he doesn't actually know how to act around them. He hasn't had much chance to form any sort of solid stereotype for himself and just has what he has been told to go off of.

Internal Conflicts

If he meets a woman and he starts to take a liking to her he ends up feeling guilty, as if he is betraying his old childhood love. This would be a hard thought for him to push aside, and he will likely struggle with his first romantic relationship for a while, should he ever get into one.

He is a workaholic. If he is ever restricted from doing his work he will be very unhappy. All of the things he loves to do are learned from his close friends from his past and are the only way he feels he can ever fully remember them, and fears that he'll forget them should he stop doing his work (which is unlikely).

If he's presented with a dangerous situation involving a close friend his duty to his friend to help them will heavily conflict with his cowardice. It would take every fibre of his being to get over his fears and do something for the friend. Ever since what happened to Phillip and the rest of his old caravan friends he fears ever having to regret such a thing happening again. He already regrets their deaths and that he did nothing, so he doesn't want to add to the pile. That would be the most convincing self-argument to get him to help someone in need.

He wants to make a good impression on everyone he meets, as if he doesn't he fears it would drive away a friend (and previously customers). If he feels he has somehow botched that first impression he will likely avoid that person for a while, as being near them would feel awkward and make him worry about what said person thinks of him now.

Even though he is confident in his own abilities on his own, when it comes to other people he is never sure how they think of them. As a result he is concerned with how other people perceive him and his abilities. He would never do well in a situation where he is made fun of, as jokes directed at him he would think are serious (even if they aren't).

He likes to make others happy. He enjoys the smiles and praise he sometimes gets when he gives gifts or makes sales of things that he made himself. However, he also dislikes doing manual labour and other such tasks. He could get conflicted with doing something difficult for someone else to make their opinion of him more positive or being pretty lazy and trying to turn it down as politely as possible.

Skills

Skills

Basic--->Novice--->Intermediate--->Advanced--->Expert
Basic: Knows basics. || Novice: Knows basics well, can learn on own at slow pace. || Intermediate: Can effectively learn on own. Can teach absolute basics with a little difficulty. ||

Daggers, knives and shivs: Basic. Several years of very loose training for self defense.

Herbalist :Novice Decade of knowledge taught by mother daily. Includes making sleeping aids, pain killers, poisons, and salves. However, he has never needed to make use of poisons so he has forgotten most of that knowledge. However, during his time with the merchant group he was with he would gather food and some herbs for light first aid purposes. He can also pick out most edible fruits, plants, berries, etc. (this isn't in the backstory but can easily be assumed now, as they were a traveling caravan and sometimes their food might get low, or someone might get injured - though there was never any serious injuries.) (It should be noted that he cannot stitch wounds, but can bandage crudely if needed and help a healer under specific direction if needed.)

Piccolo/flute playing: Intermediate Can play very well and teach all the basics and newer things. Started learning at age of 6 years and played ever since. The reason he can also play flute is because they are essentially the same instrument, but a piccolo is in a higher octave and is half the size. They have the same fingerings. Even though he had only had proper teaching for 4 years he still practiced, as he was at a stage where he could continue on his own with his music and worked to perfect it, though is still far from that point.

Woodworking: Intermediate Taught how to do this since age of 8, to lesser extent than piccolo playing. Can teach basics. Can craft a somewhat crude piccolo. Can make semi-detailed sculptures. Can draw/carve 2 dimensional designs with much greater detail, provided he's familiar with what he's drawing. Can make many misc things out of wood.

Painting: Intermediate Can paint on wood fairly well with decent detailed work for decorative purposes. Can also make the three primary colors to make somewhat more colors. He does mostly patterns and shapes that can look abstract and usually does this with his woodworking to decorate his work.

Basic Math Not a "basic" skill, but learned math from Phillip during his time as a merchant for commercial purposes. Counting money, adding, subtracting, multiplying, dividing, etc. No complex formulas or anything.

Crafting out of Stone: novice Can make simple stone tools such as knives, hammers, and axes. Usually tied onto a wooden handle.

Business Sense Novice : He does not do well on his own in the business world, as he doesn't feel the need to accumulate a massive amount of wealth. Though, with others working with him he has a good understanding of what to do with his trade and how to sell it to people.

Backstory

Demotheus was born in a nomadic Mesalian tribe. They were almost always on the move, only lingering to drain the local area of it's resources to the extent that they needed. There was nothing significant surrounding his birth. There were no wars waging around the tribe, nothing overly good or bad happening. It was really just an average day apart from his birth. In this tribe, like many others, the successful birth of a child really was considered a sort of miracle. As is usual with such an occasion, the tribe had to significantly slow their pacing for a few years so the baby could survive infancy. During this time the Mother, named Theresa, coddled the child and the father, Jon, continued his work as usual, inadvertently remaining distant from the child.

Unfortunately for the children this is how most fathers were in this tribe. It was not uncommon for the fathers to die during the child's early years. It was simply how life was in their "society". They sometimes died of sickness or injury, or perhaps they had to try to fight off other tribes they encounter or even destroy them for their own personal gain. They thought it better that the child should not have to grieve as much when, their father's time came. This meant that it fell on the mothers shoulders to raise the children, for the most part.

As time went on the boy grew much like his mother. He had a slender build and wasn't going to be much for manual labour, that's for certain. His fingers grew to be a little longer and thinner than most children of the tribe which increased the likeliness that he would excel in more delicate work. It was those hands and that unlikeliness of becoming a hunter that peaked someone's attention. Her name was Belle. She was a strange woman. Her hobby was wood working, and she also played a piccolo. She didn't ever approach the boy, however. The boy, at the age of six, came to her himself...

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The sound of sharp flute playing fills the tent where Belle works and spends most of her time. Demotheus wanders in, attracted by the sound. He had always fancied the songs he heard from this tent, and was curious as to how it sounded so lovely. She looks up from the log she sits cross-legged on and beams.

"Why, hello, darling! What brings you to my...lovely abode, hm?" She asks, a glint of mischief in her eye gone unnoticed by the boy. "What's that?" He points to the flute she holds still at face level. "This, why, it's a piccolo! Haven't you ever heard one before? Oh, maybe that's why you came in."

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He had ever since taken an interest in the instrument and a few months later the wood work she would do. He spent more and more time with the woman and less with his mother, who began to worry for the boy. She never trusted Belle very much, few did. She was a strange woman, and she joined with the tribe many years prior, and hadn't left. She was an outsider and refused to be branded, as was customary, by the tribe mark. There had always been some talk about how she was not to be trusted fully. If she had really wanted to be a part of their tribe why wouldn't she get the marking? It was an honor to bear the pain, after all. So Theresa worried because she was unsure of the woman's motivations, but she had no real reason aside from here-say to protest. She would only ask Demotheus what he was doing with her every now and again. But, to Demotheus she was something much more. She was his first love. Well, at the age of 8 it was merely puppy love that would never have gone far, but at the time simply hearing her voice would consume his thoughts. To Demotheus, she was full of joy, music, and art. She was a pretty thing who made more pretty things. He did strive to learn to make those things, to play that instrument. He wanted to impress her as much as he could, and she happily taught him all she could.

He learned the piccolo first, as it was his first interest, and every now and then she would show him how to woodwork. She helped him make things like masks, staffs, canes, little sculptures, and many other things. She even showed him how to make the dyes and paints that would help bring his creations color. But all was not meant to last, and all this came to an end when he was 10 years old, marking the start of a brutal civil war.

They insisted that she get the tribal markings, but she resisted. She would not have such things on her body. This was the final straw for a much more traditional man in the tribe. He had always kept to the ways of the founders of their little group, and this was one of the most important traditions. It signified strength and unity within the tribe, and she had denied it again. He vowed silently that he would ensure that this woman dies for her continued arrogance.

That night, while Demotheus was with Belle, they gathered around the fire and listened to what the elder had to say. After a couple hours of talking they finally decided that it was for the best. Unity, pride, and strength. This is what must make up the tribe, and there could be no weak links...

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"Come, my darling. I have something for you." She says, making a "come hither" gesture. He shifts over to her and looks at where she gestures next, in her lap. He looks back to her, perplexed and curious as ever. "It's about time you get your own little weapon. You're a man now, I don't care if you're 3 years short of what people deem the age to be." She says, offering him the handle of the dagger. He grins a bit, taking it and turning it over in his hands then looks back to her. "Thank you, Bell. I will keep this for as long as I live!" He promises. He puts it in a sheathe, replacing his old stone knife he uses for his woodwork. They hear noises coming from outside and hushing.

"That's odd..." She says, getting up and moving to the flap of the tent to open it just before getting viciously kicked in the face and layed out on her back. The boy opens his mouth to scream but closes it again, scurrying backwards to hide in the shadows. He was too scared. He watched as they continue to beat her senseless, watched as her form curled into a small ball. "You should have listened! We can have no weak links!" The elder says from outside, satisfied by the sounds he was hearing inside the tent.

Then they start stomping on her skull, but one of the men pushes them out of the way. "What are you, savages!? Just give her a quick ending." He crouches down and opens her throat, letting her die with a little mercy. He watched as she died, silent, unmoving, practically holding his breath for fear that they would find him here. He could never look at his tribe the same way again. No one in it was to be trusted. He just couldn't bring himself to do it, these people killed her for reasons he didn't know, and he didn't care.

The three men drag her lifeless corpse out and toss it near where the dogs are penned in. He gets up and, seeming to be mindless in his movements, collects his things and one extra thing; Belle's Piccolo, whispering a futile prayer on her behalf, and left silently and went back to his own tent, ignoring the laughs and stories of the others at the fire.


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As the years went by he never said a word to his mother about the incident, or to anyone for that matter. The few other children that were there wondered what had happened to the crazy lady with the music, but were never really answered and were simply shrugged off by the adults. Now, spending the time he once spent with Bell with his mother, he had taken up her craft as well. She shows him the different plants and fruits that are edible and that are for curing certain ailments, such has pain, or cleaning wounds. She shows him more of something else though, and that's poisons.

Certain fruits and plants are poisonous, this much has always been obvious. What Demotheus had not known was that the darts in their blowguns were tipped with poisons. However, this didn't concern him, as far as the "art" of using such a weapon went. His mother knew that he was not really interested in killing people or things. She did try to encourage him to help make the darts themselves by mixing the poisons so that they can be dipped in for use by the other tribesmen. His father, Jon, also taught him some things whenever he could. So, he learned what most of the other boys would learn how to do. Crafting stone tools and lumbering.

His mother, on the other hand, that relationship grew colder and more distant by the day. He started wondering whether she even cared about the death of his dear friend. She never asked if he was okay, she just seemed to be content with having him under her supervision now. However, she did love him just as much as the day he was born. He simply never gave any signs that were obvious enough to alert her to his depression. At the age of 15, he had had enough. He didn't just suddenly snap, though he would have happily jumped at any chance to get out of his position at this point. It had been building for years. He started talking to himself, or rather, thinking out loud. He was the only person he really trusted in the tribe. The other children noticed it as well and grew worried, for they thought he was going insane for some reason. They were soon be driven away by fear of his apparent insanity, but it never really spread as gossip. He couldn't fathom while his peers were alienating him. He never made it look like he wanted to kill or harm anyone, nether, he didn't even want to do that anyway! He had begun to wish he could just leave this place, and never see these people again. He loved his mother and father, but he had grown paranoid of everyone. He had never learned the reason behind the murder of his love, and no one really spoke of it. Executions were simply not talked about.

Then it finally happened. He was given the chance to escape from his private little nightmare. He was in the woods, gathering herbs for his mother when he saw a caravan in the distance. Had the scouts been lazy this day? Why wasn't this noticed before. He crept closer, keeping low, but he was not much of a sneak. A man was out relieving himself in a nearby bush when he saw the boy watching the caravan. He cut this short and walked around and behind him.

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"Boy, what are ya doin' there? Didn't your mother ever tell you spyin's bad?" This made Demotheus visibly jump and spin around, wide eyed and fearful. The man chuckled. "Th' name is Phillip. An' you are?" He blinks and gulps down his initial fear. "Demotheus." He says, a little quietly. The man chuckled at the strange boy's timidness and then spoke quickly. "Well then, Demotheus, What brings ye here? Are you on some kind of adventure? Are you lost? ... or..perhaps you want to join us, hm? You good at anything? Making things, getting things, drawing things, doing things, any of these things?" Demotheus nods, taken aback by the man's sale's pitch. "I can...make things out of wood...I can make tools from rock...um...I can play piccolo..." He trails off, shifting nervously. "Ah, good. Jus' what we need in our little traveling caravan! An artist! Some novelties could be made, and a fair bit o' coin. We'll wait here. If ye want t' go, that is. Jus' go get your things and come back here, assuming you have some."

He eyes the man cautiously, his tribal paranoia and lack of trust passed on to this man. "How do I know you will not harm me?" Demotheus asks. The man shrugs. "You don't, really. Tell you what. We're going to be here for a week or so. If you want you can hang around. Show us what you've got, even. That's a thought. What if you aren't who /you/ say you are? Then nobody wins. So we'll all do that. Sound good to you?" Demotheus thinks on this for a moment, and decides that this would be fine. He agreed to this "trial" period and went home to get some of his things to show them.

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For the next week he came to them everyday, except the Wednesday of that week. His mother needed him to help her with gathering berries and herbs. He found that the group was recently formed and were only in the area because Phillip convinced them to have a bit of a camping trip. He told them that they had to get used to the wilderness and the road because they could be on it for days, weeks, maybe months at a time! They gained each other's trust and respect and so Demotheus went with them. He would have written a note, but that was something he was never taught.

He spent the next several years working with the small caravan group. Phillip sort of tutored him. He was taught basic math for counting money, how to talk to people a little better to at the very least get rid of his lack of confidence. He taught him how to run a business, and also a little bit of self defense when he found out that the young man carried a dagger. He figured he should at least learn how to use it. Phillip also knew another trade, which was to play the flute. He had never heard of the piccolo before, but when he realized that it was played almost exactly the same he continued teaching Demotheus how to play the instrument.

Demotheus continued to practice his skills with vigor, determined for some reason that he didn't even know. Perhaps just something to do? Or even to impress his new parental figure. Phillip and Demotheus became good friends, and almost had a sort of father-son relationship. With Phillip and his group they made a decent living traveling to various cities and townships. Eventually, this life came to an abrupt and unexpected end.

They were selling their wares as usual in a larger town when a group of about six showed up. They were thugs and robbed the place blind. Demotheus, being a bit of a realist and knowing full well that in this situation being "brave" would end in him being in the six foot deep hole, hid behind a large, thick tree. They took pretty much everything of value that they could use or sell.

He didn't move from his spot for several hours after the sounds of bloody battle had ceased, to scared to move should they be waiting. Eventually, he worked up the nerve to peer around the trunk of the tree and found that they were gone, but all five of the caravan members, including Phillip, were slain. He went to the barrel which contained a few rations which the thugs didn't loot and packed them in his oversized bag with the rest of his things. He passed the bodies again, some of which had their eyes open. He crouched down next to Phillip and stared at him for a few moments and sighed. His usual giddiness extinguished for this day, at least. He closes Phillips eyes with two fingers and walks into town. "I'm so sorry..." He mumbles to the corpse. "I should have..." he says before sighing, realizing that he would have been just as cold and dead as the corpses around him if he tried to help. He's decided he is done with this place. He's heard too much about the wars and the thieves, the murderers and the rapists. So much life had been extinguished, apparently, and he was witnessing more of it. Again, he refused.

He knew of the place. They were planning to travel there and start anew, get away from the civil war. The Forbidden Lands. He heard much about it. He took what little coin he had on him, he never carried much and the coin he had stored away for later use was assumed stolen by the thugs. He made his way to a shipyard he remembered and looked at the destinations on a board. He stared at them for a good ten minutes before he decided he wouldn't be able to just magically gain the ability to read these things, but he did notice something strange. One of them seemed scratched out...

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He squints at it for a moment before looking to an approaching man. A large burly man, clearly a sailor of sorts. The man had more hair on his uncovered chest than he had on his shining head. "Lad, where ye lookin' t' go? Ye been standin' here fer at least twen'y minutes now." The man asks Demotheus with a slight amused chuckle. Demotheus grins a bit at the man and speaks in at his usual brisk pace. "Well you see, my good man, I am a man of many talents but reading, unfortunately, is not one of them. I am looking to travel, to start anew, in this great new land called "The Forbidden Lands" that I've been hearing so much about."

"Well, lad, tha's not a problem. Me, I can's read this 'ere sign jus' fine. That there," The man points to a one of the headings, "Says "Forbidden Lands." Under tha' is a few places ye can go." He lists them off and points to each, skipping over the scratched out word in the process. Demotheus points to the scratched out one and asks, "Why is this one scribbled out?" The man shrugs and replies simply, "There ain't be no more ships goin' that way." Demotheus asks the obvious next question. "Why? Has something happened there? Perhaps a trade embargo of sorts" The man sighs and looks a little bit sullen as he explains. "Well, ye could sort o' say that. The place, apparently, was pretty much leveled by a volcano tha' erupted a lil' while back. There are still people there, apparently, but tha's all heresay anyway." Demotheus blinked slightly and tries to imagine such an event. "That must be dreadful... All those people, are they dead?"

The man chuckles. "No, lad, not all o' em. There was a man, not to long ago apparently, a cap'n actually. He came tellin' me tha' he helped out a good size group o' the people find a new 'ome. Sort o', anyway. Ol' abandon fishin' village. Not sure if they made it any less abandoned. I passed that place a few times. Saw a couple lights. Not sure if some'un lights 'em e'ry day an' night or if they just...burn there forever. Kind o' spooks me... come t' think of it...mayhaps they are dead, now...bah, jus' ye ne'ermind that, lad." Demotheus thinks for a moment before nodding. "Can you take me there?" The man blinks, and sighs, clearly hoping he wouldn't have to do that. "Aye, I can. Fer a price, o' course. Can't really work fer free, now can I?" He chuckles and Demotheus simply agrees. "Of course not. I have a bit of gold, will that be enough?"

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Demotheus went with the man that day. The end destination before returning to port was a little further down the coast from the fishing village he spoke of, but the man detoured and sent Demotheus off in a dinghy, after showing him the basics of rowing the thing. He arrived at, as mentioned before, a largely abandoned village, but what he was really looking for was those lights, and sure enough he found them. In fact, he found that it was an entire trail, and he even found some somewhat obvious tracks from a wagons and people that have seemed to follow them. Perhaps they lead somewhere? He followed them closely, living off of the land like he had for much of his life. His hooded traveling cloak coming in handy when he would cross the desert. He made it through the desert quickly, faster than he'd ever traveled in his life before, in fact. The multitude of dead bodies decaying spooked him. Something killed them, but what? It never occurred to him that those were dusk spawn, but either way he would have made haste across this ocean of death, as he called it. . .

He would arrive wherever the group is, or rather close as he was following the tracks, and grin excited before composing himself and heading in to meet them.

Additional Notes

With him he brings his oversized backpack, Belle's dagger, 4 carving knives (made of stone), a few masks, Belle's piccolo, some dyes, his traveling hooded cloak (wearing), his "normal" clothes (wearing), his darkly tanned leather fingerless gloves(wearing).

[Demotheus]

I made a couple small (but still very important) edits in the application.

First one is that he is perceptive. I realized that he would have gained a higher sort of "sense" of people and his surroundings since he became a merchant, so to cater and "advertise" specific things based off of the things he notices in some people's mannerisms, clothing, etc.

The second one is really a consistency error. It's in the background story itself where he hid in the barrel to escape the commotion and hopefully not get caught by the thugs. Originally I had implied (rather poorly) that he disassociated himself from the situation, but I realized that wasn't likely good enough.

Sorry for the inconvenience in case anyone was in the process of reviewing this.

[mcman]

I'm posting to address staff's primary concern regarding this application, which is the mental illness aspect. You describe a "disassociative disorder" that doesn't correspond well with any real-life condition, for there is a spectrum of different dissociative (note the spelling) disorders. Ultimately the final product seems to resemble a Gollum/Smeagol archetype, but there simply isn't a real condition that matches this familiar but inaccurate image of mental illness.

Rather, you combine aspects of PTSD (withdrawing due to trauma, anxiety, and flashbacks), dissociative identity disorder (multiple personalities that are not really exhibited together simultaneously, as in your backstory), and schizophrenia (hearing voices, holding various delusions, and not being able to communicate coherently) while not really showing sufficient knowledge of any one of these individually.

Mental illness is a sensitive subject and thus it's very important to staff that it is represented accurately and realistically in RP, which is what makes such characters so difficult. I know from my own personal experience across various servers that far more often than not mental illness is simply used to justify unpredictability and other poor RP habits, and we wish to avoid that happening on our server.

Thus, given your past portrayal of mental illnesses and the inadequate and vague description that you provide here, staff has come to the collective decision that we cannot permit you to have a mentally ill character at this time. In light of this these aspects will have to be removed if you wish for this submission to be accepted. Thank you and good luck. I believe another staffer will be handling our other concerns with this application.

[Demotheus]

That is false. I've done a pretty decent amount of research about the disorders. Maybe I was being vague, but that doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about. I would rather have a conversation with staff about this because rewriting this character (which is what I'd have to do) would be more taxing and counter productive to what I wanted to RP as.

First of all, he does not have multiple personalities. I stated that it could develop into such a disorder under the right (or wrong, depending on how you look at it) circumstances. Disassociative disorder and Schizophrenia are very similar (and are often times confused with each other).

Perhaps a little biased, but a lot of thought has gone into this character and I can play it, contrary to what the staff thinks.

[Michelle]

"I've done a pretty decent amount of research about the disorders. Maybe I was being vague, but that doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about."
We did not state that you had not researched the mental conditions mentioned in this submission, nor did we state that you do not understand them. We stated that the representation of these mental conditions in your character submission was inaccurate, thus unrealistic and thus, not sufficient evidence to suggest you are able to RP this condition correctly. This, combined with your previous portrayals of mental conditions, have led staff to collectively conclude that you are simply not ready for a character with a mental condition at this present time.

"First of all, he does not have multiple personalities. I stated that it could develop into such a disorder under the right (or wrong, depending on how you look at it) circumstances. "
Firstly, the staff are aware your character does not have dissociative identity disorder. However, some parts of your character's backstory imply that your character does: "He blinks and mutters, "Don't tell him" then looks to the side quickly as if in answering himself, "Shut up!" he says in a hushed voice." As Mcman's post stated, this is inaccurate as dissociative identity disorder does not involve two personalities being exhibited simultaneously. Moreover, this argument is irrelevant as you can see from the points in Mcman's post, as well as the points given above and below this point:

"Disassociative disorder and Schizophrenia are very similar (and are often times confused with each other)."
Secondly, it's dissociative disorder. Not disassociative disorder.
Thirdly, schizophrenia and dissociative identity disorder are not similar. They're merely confused with one another. Regardless of any research you may have done, you are not demonstrating this knowledge effectively enough for staff to conclude you are ready for a character with a mental condition. This, in conjunction with considerations for the community's RP standards, is why you have been told by staff to revise your application.

"Perhaps a little biased, but a lot of thought has gone into this character and I can play it, contrary to what the staff thinks."
The staff have not seen the depth in your previous characters or in your portrayal of mental illness which conveys to us that you are ready for this responsibility. Your RP skills need to show substantial improvement before the staff are willing to approve another character with a mental condition from you.

When you have revised your application, I will then review it more thoroughly. To do so now after you have already received significant feedback is not fair to other applicants. That's all, for now. Good luck.