Post by Deleted on Nov 14, 2014 19:20:22 GMT -5
Player: News
Best Contact Method(s):Gmail/Aim
Have you read the General Rules?: Yes
Are you adopting a character from the Open for Claims List?: Yes
If so, have you discussed the character with the contact person?: Extensively
Character Name:Demetrio Montefiore
Age:30
Gender:Male
Birthdate:21 February, 1397
City / Region:Duefuemi, Seravino
House [ Birth, Marriage if applicable]:Montefiore
Played by:Eoin Macken
Appearance: About Demetrio Montefiore there are no remarkable features. He is of average height with dark hair and eyes. If his hair is a little longer than is en vogue it is a forgivable faux pas (many of the Ladies at Court say so). His nose is fine and straight, if maybe a bit too large for his face and though his beard is a bit 'scruffy' this too is passed off by the courtiers with adjectives like 'rugged' rather than recriminations against his grooming.
His clothing typically is plain and of darker hues in deference to his position and in spite of his rank. Close inspection however reveals fine tailoring, and everything is of good quality. One are of his appearance which is never neglected is his swords, which he is never seen without and which are always immaculately cared for. Taken as a whole the Captain of the Dukes Guard is seen as a grim figure, and something of a curiosity in spite of it.
Personality: Reserved and jealous of his privacy, Demetrio Montefiore is a man apart. His relationship with his family is fractious and contencious at best, outright hostile at it's worst. And yet he is as dedicated to their cause as anyone else. He wants what any of them want, to see the Montefiore star rise, particularily above that of the Deliambres but the scope of their ambition is limited only by Niccolo's vision.
Quiet and nearly humorless, Demetrio is not the life of the party that his cousin is. He is not the business titan that his Father was, or that his youngest brother Pierro strives to be. His friends are few and very far between. Pierro was Demetrio's 'tutor' for a while when it came to his literacy, but the youngest boys similarities to their Father keep the two from being close. It maybe that Niccolo is the only true friend that he has, and he has never been seen to court anyone. Still, the grim, fastidious Lord Demetrio is in high demand at court for his skills on the dance floor, and his Horses are frequent competitors at his Cousin's feast day races. It is his skill with the sword however that sets him apart and far above anyone else in his family, even his younger brother Enrico, who fancies himself a swashbuckler and a rogue. The two are frequent and vocal antagonists, but Demetrio has never drawn his sword against his own blood. Their acrimony is such that Angela, so much like her Mother may be the only of his siblings with which Demetrio could be said to be familiar if not close.
To the remainder of Archades, Demetrio Montefiore is cool and aloof, professional in the least flattering sense of the word. He takes his duty to his Cousin very seriously, and has sworn a vendetta against the Deliambres, and would gladly kill the least of them to repay the misfortune's that have been visited on his own kin. His vices are as few as his virtues, he does not drink or smoke or gamble. He does not 'duel' or perform 'exhibitions' of his swordsmanship, neither does he teach, his own temperment being so ill suited to the task that even Enrico cannot convince him.
Still, as rough as he is, and as poor a Gentleman as he may be with his plain clothes and sombre demeanor, Demetrio is a dedicated servent of his Cousin, the Duke and a fearsome defender of his family. Whatever Angelo may have wished when Dem was born, could he ask for much more than what he has been given?
Specific Skills or Abilities: Dance: A skilled partner in all of the courtly dances, and an adequate performer of several esoteric styles, including those popular in Vasile.
Horsemanship: A cool and confident rider and above average judge of horseflesh. Supports a small stable of high quality animals for pleasure and for sporting at the Duke's pleasure. Stud fees for his stallions are a goodly source of income.
Dirty Fighting: When the Dance is swords, Everything is Permitted, and Demetrio does not let a little thing like 'honor' or 'nobility' stay his hand. From tripping an opponent to throwing dirt or another irritant in their eyes, the Captain plays for keeps when steel is drawn. Any body party, any item to hand any environmental hazard is fair game and he's yet to lose a minutes sleep over it.
The Sword: This was the refuge that the young man sought when he could find no other. Constantly reminded in his youth of his shortcomings, he channeled the resultant chip on his shoulder into training and studying, and now he could argueably be considered the greatest swordsman in the kingdom. The only other name even mentioned along side his in this field is Jean-Luc Deveraux.
Background: As the first-born Son and Heir of Angelo Montefiore, Demetrio's place in life (and his path too it) should have been clear and easy. But from the beginning that was simply not the case. To begin with, Demetrio was sinister (or left handed) a trait that no amount of rapped knuckles could fix. As he began his studies, it then became apparent that he had great difficulty with both reading and arithmetic, and his orientation or 'handedness' meant that even writing came only at great effort.
Angelo was gravely disappointed, believing that Demetrio was either lazy or, worse still, touched in the head. When his brother Giuliano's boy, Niccolo began to study with him, Angelo saw in his nephew the son that he wished he'd had. Demetrio was not unaware of his Father's perfidy. He saw his Father's affection for Niccolo, his zeal in spending time instructing his cousin, and the feeling of that betrayal has stayed with him all his life. Manifesting itself as an iron will and a remote restraint which has earned him a reputation as a cold and difficult man.
Despite Angelo's suspicions, Demetrio was neither lazy nor touched. He was dyslexic and a very active learner as a result. He could not learn by reading. Frequenlty he could not deceipher the text, rather he observed and he mimiced. He had begun to study the rudiments of dance while watching the Ladies practice when he would run away from his Maths or Literature tutors. His mother, Marisa Cavallo saw this and encouraged him to persue this new outlet. In short order he became quite the accomplished dancer and is always in high demand as a partner because of it.
She also introduced him to horseback riding, a private passion from her own youth which Demetrio found he shared. Riding was about communication and cooperation as much as it was about the Mastery of man over beast, at least that is what she taught him, and Demetrio appreciated her style as much as he found he enjoyed being outdoors. But it was during a riding lesson that Demetrio would discover his true calling in life.
As Angelo saw business, and as Niccolo saw a crowd of people, thusly did Demetrio see the sword and whatever ineffable will it is that crafts men to their purpose had been at work again. A sword felt more natural in his hand than a quill ever had, and the steps of swordplay, the rhythm of the exchange harkened to his other passion in dance.
Not only was he naturally gifted as a swordsman, but Demetrio found an inexhaustible wellspring of energy in him when it came to the pursuit or practice of the art. He studied ceaselessly, not only the forms and the stances and the strikes, but also the simple work of soldiering. It gave him an outlet for a lifetime of frustration with numbers, letters and his Father. As Demetrio aged his body lenthened and filled out, his hands and eyes hardening as he grew. Quietly, with barely anyone noticing, the awkward boy he had been became one of the best swordsman in the Kingdom.
Niccolo however, was one who did.
And he pointed the fact out to Angelo.
So when Giuliano III and Alberto, Niccolo's older brother's died and Demetrio's younger cousin (now Reconciled and a steadfast friend) became the new Duke of Seravino, Demetrio became the Captain of his Guards swearing not only to protect his Cousin, but also to seek revenge on those the Montefiore's deemed responsible for their misfortunes, the Deliambres.
Writing Sample:
The late afternoon heat was stifling, and John Nailor, not for the first time, found himself glad of the advent of air conditioning. The thin ribbon of asphalt that he had followed from the City proper had lost all it's fellows the further along he had come, until all that remained on it's flanks were stands of cyprus and live oak. The only sound to be heard came from the 5.7 litre big block that rumbled beneath the hood of his vintage Caballero, the cousin to the more iconic El Camino.
The Boondocks was a popular hang out for local MC's (motorcycle clubs) and as such, a veritable fount of booze and consequently, a great place to mine for information. It was also a great spot to not be seen, if that was your thing.
Unfortunately for him, his car was not what would be called subtle, but he hadn't meant it to be. The car made a statement. It had presence and by extension, so did he. Which was rather the point when coming into a place like this. He paused as he got out of the car, his arms resting on the top as if impervious to the heat radiating off of it. His eyes, pale blue and cool, scanned the parking lot and the front of the bar. And he nodded to himself as if he'd seen something or other of note although on the face of it, there was nothing too remarkable to see or note.
Pocketing his keys, John made his way around his car and down the line of bikes, giving each an appraising if uneducated glance as he went. The thick tread of his heavy black boots cutting deep impressions into the dust of the parking lot before he steeped out of it and into the building proper, ducking instinctively despite the opening being more than large enough to permit his 6'2” frame. Simple blue jeans and a rumpled black button down shirt (with the sleeve cuffs undone and rolled back off his wrists) were the uniform of the day. His hair was worn in a soldiers short buzz, gone slightly wooly from inattention, though the horseshoe mustache on his face was neat and tidy. Once more, he paused, running an appraising eye over the few patrons he could see before making his way to the namesake furniture of the business. Sliding himself onto a stool he waited for the bartender, whichever of the two behind the eponymous furniture it was who held the title to come and offer him a drink.
He was in no hurry.
Best Contact Method(s):Gmail/Aim
Have you read the General Rules?: Yes
Are you adopting a character from the Open for Claims List?: Yes
If so, have you discussed the character with the contact person?: Extensively
Character Name:Demetrio Montefiore
Age:30
Gender:Male
Birthdate:21 February, 1397
City / Region:Duefuemi, Seravino
House [ Birth, Marriage if applicable]:Montefiore
Played by:Eoin Macken
Appearance: About Demetrio Montefiore there are no remarkable features. He is of average height with dark hair and eyes. If his hair is a little longer than is en vogue it is a forgivable faux pas (many of the Ladies at Court say so). His nose is fine and straight, if maybe a bit too large for his face and though his beard is a bit 'scruffy' this too is passed off by the courtiers with adjectives like 'rugged' rather than recriminations against his grooming.
His clothing typically is plain and of darker hues in deference to his position and in spite of his rank. Close inspection however reveals fine tailoring, and everything is of good quality. One are of his appearance which is never neglected is his swords, which he is never seen without and which are always immaculately cared for. Taken as a whole the Captain of the Dukes Guard is seen as a grim figure, and something of a curiosity in spite of it.
Personality: Reserved and jealous of his privacy, Demetrio Montefiore is a man apart. His relationship with his family is fractious and contencious at best, outright hostile at it's worst. And yet he is as dedicated to their cause as anyone else. He wants what any of them want, to see the Montefiore star rise, particularily above that of the Deliambres but the scope of their ambition is limited only by Niccolo's vision.
Quiet and nearly humorless, Demetrio is not the life of the party that his cousin is. He is not the business titan that his Father was, or that his youngest brother Pierro strives to be. His friends are few and very far between. Pierro was Demetrio's 'tutor' for a while when it came to his literacy, but the youngest boys similarities to their Father keep the two from being close. It maybe that Niccolo is the only true friend that he has, and he has never been seen to court anyone. Still, the grim, fastidious Lord Demetrio is in high demand at court for his skills on the dance floor, and his Horses are frequent competitors at his Cousin's feast day races. It is his skill with the sword however that sets him apart and far above anyone else in his family, even his younger brother Enrico, who fancies himself a swashbuckler and a rogue. The two are frequent and vocal antagonists, but Demetrio has never drawn his sword against his own blood. Their acrimony is such that Angela, so much like her Mother may be the only of his siblings with which Demetrio could be said to be familiar if not close.
To the remainder of Archades, Demetrio Montefiore is cool and aloof, professional in the least flattering sense of the word. He takes his duty to his Cousin very seriously, and has sworn a vendetta against the Deliambres, and would gladly kill the least of them to repay the misfortune's that have been visited on his own kin. His vices are as few as his virtues, he does not drink or smoke or gamble. He does not 'duel' or perform 'exhibitions' of his swordsmanship, neither does he teach, his own temperment being so ill suited to the task that even Enrico cannot convince him.
Still, as rough as he is, and as poor a Gentleman as he may be with his plain clothes and sombre demeanor, Demetrio is a dedicated servent of his Cousin, the Duke and a fearsome defender of his family. Whatever Angelo may have wished when Dem was born, could he ask for much more than what he has been given?
Specific Skills or Abilities: Dance: A skilled partner in all of the courtly dances, and an adequate performer of several esoteric styles, including those popular in Vasile.
Horsemanship: A cool and confident rider and above average judge of horseflesh. Supports a small stable of high quality animals for pleasure and for sporting at the Duke's pleasure. Stud fees for his stallions are a goodly source of income.
Dirty Fighting: When the Dance is swords, Everything is Permitted, and Demetrio does not let a little thing like 'honor' or 'nobility' stay his hand. From tripping an opponent to throwing dirt or another irritant in their eyes, the Captain plays for keeps when steel is drawn. Any body party, any item to hand any environmental hazard is fair game and he's yet to lose a minutes sleep over it.
The Sword: This was the refuge that the young man sought when he could find no other. Constantly reminded in his youth of his shortcomings, he channeled the resultant chip on his shoulder into training and studying, and now he could argueably be considered the greatest swordsman in the kingdom. The only other name even mentioned along side his in this field is Jean-Luc Deveraux.
Background: As the first-born Son and Heir of Angelo Montefiore, Demetrio's place in life (and his path too it) should have been clear and easy. But from the beginning that was simply not the case. To begin with, Demetrio was sinister (or left handed) a trait that no amount of rapped knuckles could fix. As he began his studies, it then became apparent that he had great difficulty with both reading and arithmetic, and his orientation or 'handedness' meant that even writing came only at great effort.
Angelo was gravely disappointed, believing that Demetrio was either lazy or, worse still, touched in the head. When his brother Giuliano's boy, Niccolo began to study with him, Angelo saw in his nephew the son that he wished he'd had. Demetrio was not unaware of his Father's perfidy. He saw his Father's affection for Niccolo, his zeal in spending time instructing his cousin, and the feeling of that betrayal has stayed with him all his life. Manifesting itself as an iron will and a remote restraint which has earned him a reputation as a cold and difficult man.
*~*~*~*~*
Despite Angelo's suspicions, Demetrio was neither lazy nor touched. He was dyslexic and a very active learner as a result. He could not learn by reading. Frequenlty he could not deceipher the text, rather he observed and he mimiced. He had begun to study the rudiments of dance while watching the Ladies practice when he would run away from his Maths or Literature tutors. His mother, Marisa Cavallo saw this and encouraged him to persue this new outlet. In short order he became quite the accomplished dancer and is always in high demand as a partner because of it.
She also introduced him to horseback riding, a private passion from her own youth which Demetrio found he shared. Riding was about communication and cooperation as much as it was about the Mastery of man over beast, at least that is what she taught him, and Demetrio appreciated her style as much as he found he enjoyed being outdoors. But it was during a riding lesson that Demetrio would discover his true calling in life.
As Angelo saw business, and as Niccolo saw a crowd of people, thusly did Demetrio see the sword and whatever ineffable will it is that crafts men to their purpose had been at work again. A sword felt more natural in his hand than a quill ever had, and the steps of swordplay, the rhythm of the exchange harkened to his other passion in dance.
Not only was he naturally gifted as a swordsman, but Demetrio found an inexhaustible wellspring of energy in him when it came to the pursuit or practice of the art. He studied ceaselessly, not only the forms and the stances and the strikes, but also the simple work of soldiering. It gave him an outlet for a lifetime of frustration with numbers, letters and his Father. As Demetrio aged his body lenthened and filled out, his hands and eyes hardening as he grew. Quietly, with barely anyone noticing, the awkward boy he had been became one of the best swordsman in the Kingdom.
Niccolo however, was one who did.
And he pointed the fact out to Angelo.
So when Giuliano III and Alberto, Niccolo's older brother's died and Demetrio's younger cousin (now Reconciled and a steadfast friend) became the new Duke of Seravino, Demetrio became the Captain of his Guards swearing not only to protect his Cousin, but also to seek revenge on those the Montefiore's deemed responsible for their misfortunes, the Deliambres.
Writing Sample:
The late afternoon heat was stifling, and John Nailor, not for the first time, found himself glad of the advent of air conditioning. The thin ribbon of asphalt that he had followed from the City proper had lost all it's fellows the further along he had come, until all that remained on it's flanks were stands of cyprus and live oak. The only sound to be heard came from the 5.7 litre big block that rumbled beneath the hood of his vintage Caballero, the cousin to the more iconic El Camino.
The Boondocks was a popular hang out for local MC's (motorcycle clubs) and as such, a veritable fount of booze and consequently, a great place to mine for information. It was also a great spot to not be seen, if that was your thing.
Unfortunately for him, his car was not what would be called subtle, but he hadn't meant it to be. The car made a statement. It had presence and by extension, so did he. Which was rather the point when coming into a place like this. He paused as he got out of the car, his arms resting on the top as if impervious to the heat radiating off of it. His eyes, pale blue and cool, scanned the parking lot and the front of the bar. And he nodded to himself as if he'd seen something or other of note although on the face of it, there was nothing too remarkable to see or note.
Pocketing his keys, John made his way around his car and down the line of bikes, giving each an appraising if uneducated glance as he went. The thick tread of his heavy black boots cutting deep impressions into the dust of the parking lot before he steeped out of it and into the building proper, ducking instinctively despite the opening being more than large enough to permit his 6'2” frame. Simple blue jeans and a rumpled black button down shirt (with the sleeve cuffs undone and rolled back off his wrists) were the uniform of the day. His hair was worn in a soldiers short buzz, gone slightly wooly from inattention, though the horseshoe mustache on his face was neat and tidy. Once more, he paused, running an appraising eye over the few patrons he could see before making his way to the namesake furniture of the business. Sliding himself onto a stool he waited for the bartender, whichever of the two behind the eponymous furniture it was who held the title to come and offer him a drink.
He was in no hurry.