Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Character Vynter, Bastard of Layne


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V Y N T E R

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    Birth Name: Beris Layne
    Alias: Vynter
    Allegiance: Shiraya Expanse
    Rank: Emissary
    Species Human
    Homeworld: Vandor
    Age: Middle-Aged
    Sex: Male
    Height: 6'0"
    Weight: Cruiserweight
    Eye Color: Blue
    Hair Color: Blonde
    Skin Tone: Fair
    Force Sensitive: Yes
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    EDUCATION: As a noble of Frosthall, Vynter has an exceptional educational background.

    SURVIVAL: Due to the harshness of Vandor, Vynter has learned a plethora of survival techniques and thrives within colder environments.

    HUSBANDRY: In additional to survival techniques, Vynter is adapt in the taming and utilization of fauna.
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    FROSTBYTE: Having incurred injury by the blade of his House, Vynter's left hand is significantly weaker than his right.

    DESERTS: Vynter's skillset and identity revolve around mountainous, frozen environments. Deserts are supremely out of his element.

    LORD: Vynter has a noticeable distaste for "Xenos" and looks down upon those of lower social status than he.
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    Origins

    To rule with Honor was the burden of the Crown.

    Long ago, amidst the frozen peaks of Vandor, a House ruled over her people. The family was much akin to the howling winds and bitter cold of the mountain - strong, steadfast, and deadly to the surrounding world. But, to the people, they were also a place of refuge. For generations, House Layne ensured that their people survived the bitter winter - and they did so with Honor as their Foundation. It was said that, of all the nobility in the world, the Layne were among the most Just. The most fair. The most kind. But even they were Human.

    Behind closed doors, the ruler of Frosthall was dissatisfied. In the name of duty, he sacrified many things. To be truly happy came second to what was best for the people. Thus, when the crown was laid atop his brow, he made twofold vows. The first, of course, was to the people of Frosthall. The second was to his bride. To maintain unity, an arrangement had been made by his own sire. The marriage would solidify affairs beyond the walls o Frosthall - ensuring peace and progress for the people. Yet, for the new Lord, this meant putting an end to the desires of his heart: Ana.

    She was not of noble or even notable birth. She was a face he had seen since the days of his youth. A maiden, tasked with waiting upon his mother and sisters. They shared fond memories and grew to be devoted to one another. Yet, his hopes of wedding the love of his life ended when Frosthall because His. He could not snub the realm from which his bride hailed, for that would mean blood. Thus, with a heavy heart, he said goodbye.

    But the ruler was Human. Honorable, but Human.

    To his bride was given an earnest attempt. He tried to learn to love her. Tried to find joy in her embrace. Tried to find excitement in their hours and days together. And, while he began to grow fond of his bride, his heart ached for another. It was a on a certain Valborg Notte that the rule succumbed to his heart. Strong drink ran like water throughout Frosthall in celebration of the coming spring. Honor drowned underneath an ocean of mead - and the ruler found his beloved. In the shadows, they were finally together. And once the line was crossed, addiction gripped their souls. To exist without the other was impossible. Days. Weeks. Months. From that moment forward, the ruler slipped into the night to satisy his desires.

    In time, his recklessness came to a head. A child was due to be born - a Bastard of Layne.

    Knowing that he had gone too far, the bliss came crashing to a halt. The ruler confessed to his bride immediately and was prepared to own his dishonor before the people. Yet, despite the slandering of their union, she had merchy. Enough humiliation had been done to their house - to bring it before all of Frosthall would serve only to sully their rule. Thus, she enacted a plane. A falsehood, collaborated with a physician bought with gold. The bride was - inaccurately - diagnosed as barren. And thus, an heir had to be conceived. Ana had been chosen for this "honor."

    So it was that Beris Layne entered the world.

    Early Life

    As Heir, his upbringing was nearly identical to that of his Father before him. He was tutored by the finest minds Vandor had to offer. He learned the tales of the Jedi passed down by the founder of their House. And even squired underneath the Knights of Frosthall. The main difference between his and his sire's upbringings were the presence of two that Beris could call Mother within his home. Ana was given the task of nurturing the young heir. Whilst Eva oversaw his education and courtly grooming. And, it was under her watchful eye that Beris began to brim with something more than Honor - Ambition.

    Eva filled his mind with designs of her making. Of a Frosthall that would be molded to her whims. One that would expand beyond its mountainous home and see all of Vandor knelt before them. His sire was a benevolent and peaceful Lord. One whose rule began with a marriage to secure peace. Yet Eva filled the young Heir's mind with a glorious interpretation of War. Moreover, once the young man's sensitivity in the Force had been discovered, she sent him across the Galaxy to be mentored at the feet of an ally of her family. Panatha became his home for quite some time - and it was there that his ambition was tempered with whispers of the Dark Side.

    Years passed. And upon his return from his tutelage away, it was clear that the Honorable ways of House Layne were of no concern to him.

    He began, firstly, with the martial forces of the land. In those days, minor skirmishes had erupted between Frosthall and a neighboring power - which was an opportunity that Beris could not pass up. Exercising his right as Heir, he rode into battle with the Knight-Captain of Frosthall's forces. By his command, the Captain was made to lead a daring assault against the enemy's calvary. And, while victory was ultimately Frosthall's in this battle, the Knight-Captain fell in the field. As Beris had intended. He then plucked the heartstrings of the Court. A bold, passionate speech was given - vowing to avenge the death of the Captain. In the end, Beris seized control of Frosthall's forces amidst thunderous applause.

    True to his word, Beris descended upon their enemy without mercy. Men. Women. Children. All were set aflame by his blade. The honor of Frosthall was broken beneath his blade - and his orders were absolute. Raid after raid, battle after battle, Beris earned for himself a terrifying repute among the people. He was a Hero to Frosthall. But a Butcher in the eyes of Vandor. Then, at the peak of victory, Beris stormed the Court - with the head of the enemy people in hand. He tossed the trophy before his sire's feet...and ambition flew from his voice.

    He demanded the right to rule. The right for Frosthall to be his, now, as his sire had proven far too weak. The Court was torn in two - quarrel began between the nobles at the Heir's claim. Yet, the Lord appealed to one final rite. Frostbyte, the blade of their House, was drawn. Not to challenge his son, but as a test. For generations, the weapon had determined the worthiness of those who would be Lord of Frosthall. And now, it would judge Beris. Confident. Ambitious. Beris gripped the blade - and it was then that frost enveloped his plans.

    The sword rejected him, turning the flesh of his offhand black with ice.

    By this alone, the Court was turned against the Heir - and his sire looked upon his son with disdain. He blamed himself, thinking that an heir so...cruel was his consequence for breaking the vows of marriage in the first place. But, he could not allow such dishonor to rule Frosthall upon his death. Thus, he stripped Beris of his right to rule. He would always be his son, but the throne would never be his. Outraged, Beris turned his back upon the Court, his Family, and his Lineage. He departed, not only Frosthall, but Vandor as a whole.

    On that day, Beris Layne died. On that day, he took for himself a new name - Vynter.

    Present Era

    For a time, Vynter found himself lost among the stars. Lost and seeking purpose. The embers of ambition yet burned within - and they hungered for an opportunity to burn anew. It was by pure happenstance that he came to encounter an old acquaintance from his tutelage on Panatha. And by her direction, his gaze was set towards the Southern Systems. There, he initially sought the means to take his throne. However, the years changed the man. He witnessed, and tasted, might beyond the throne of a single world. Enraptured, his ambitions grew beyond Vandor.

    When the Southern Systems were plunged into turmoil, Vynter followed the remnant to the Shiraya Expanse. Here, as a new empire grew, he sought to cement himself as something far greater.

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    Alessandra Creed Alessandra Creed was once a rival of sorts to Vynter. Many years ago, their latent Force Sensitivy had led their families to send them to Panatha for training. It was here that the pair were regularly pitted against one another in a number of brutal exercises. In their adult life, Alessandra was one of the few ties that Vynter had upon his departure from Frosthall's court. In fact, it was by her suggestion that he venture to the Southern Systems to seek out his purpose. Ever sharp, noble, and ruthless, Alessandra is a powerful ally and an even better friend.
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