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Darren Crue. There isn't really much you can say about Darren. No one knows much of anything about him. Just studdenly one day he appeared. Trudging along as always, that odd blue jacket covering up a thin black tunic, hiding a multitude of scars on his torso. Only he remembers where he got all of them. Every story of each individual cicatrix and imperfection of his pallid skin harbored in that mind.
Darren isn't much of a talker for some reason, as long as he isn't drunk that is. He always seems to be traveling somewhere, getting nowhere for all his efforts as he sees it. The endless search for something though he doesn't know what. Having lost a great deal in the past, Darren chooses to keep very little in his future. Living in an eternal moment.
A thief by trade and necessity, Darren has a very discrete nature. Trained to notice things in people that many would just over look. Rarely anything passes those two-toned eyes without notice. Unusual for a thief, Darren often spends what he "earns" soon after he obtains it. A sort of philosophy of his. "Only take what you need, when you need it. Don't let someone be tempted to take what you have in excess. It's just bad luck when a thief gets pegged by a better thief."
Standing a near six feet and one inch tall, Darren could be considered scrawny at first appearance. That's mainly due to the fact that he never takes off that dumb blue jacket. If he were to take it off, most would be surprised by his sinewy build, toned over years of stife that he doesn't care to talk about, let alone remember.
Black gloves normally cover both his hands, if they aren't in his pockets. It is a rare sight to see him without at least his left glove on. Darren never removes that glove in public. The curvature of his left hand, even through the glove, is somewhat disconcerting if examined.
Unarmed for the most part, Darren isn't too bad with a sword or a bow, for that matter. However, he claims that weapons invite trouble and weigh him down. Possibly just an excuse for never getting the idea on his own to actually buy or "borrow" a sword from someone.
The past decade or two of his life are blurred in his memory. The beginnings of it, he can't even recall no matter how hard he tries -- and he doesn't try very hard. Thinking back, he doesn't really know exactly how old he is, not remembering his birthday, though he looks to be in his twenties. A man of few words and many secrets, Darren does his best to be as lonely as he can. A pathetic, solitary existance that even he can't break. The cycle of life plays itself out as he watches, a mere observer of time, plagued by nightmares and haunting images. Somber and stoic, Darren isn't necessarily hard to talk too, and is quite inviting -- and more interesting for that matter -- after a glass or two of wine. Prides himself on being charming when he isn't too sober and depressing.
Don't look too deeply into his eyes. The two different colored orbs seem to capture a far more complex effigy than just a man with a hidden past. Darren was once told -- by a man who matched glares with him for too long -- that if it weren't for Darren's accute eyesight the man would have gouged out those eyes from him then and there.
"Never ask too many questions. Never assume what you cannot comprehend." ~ Darren
"Only solitary men know the full joys of friendship. Others have their family;
but to a solitary and an exile, his friends are everything."
- Willa Cather |
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For the mun notes: Try not to kill Darren. He is one of a few of my characters that are still left. I don't feel I need to prove myself to you, by saying I've been role playing for so many years. I'll let my role playing express for me that I know what I am doing. Basic rules are don't molest Darren, because that is just wrong. Be civil unless I'm not being civil. I give you permission to beat the crap out of Darren if he is being an ass. You play your character, and I will play mine.
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