Post by Thomas "Ronan" Doxey on May 30, 2012 10:35:24 GMT -6
THOMAScarlyleDOXEY
" So take all that you know and stuff it in a hole, and in ten thousand years someone will take you home,
rewind the words in which you roam.”
\andrew stetson/
" So take all that you know and stuff it in a hole, and in ten thousand years someone will take you home,
rewind the words in which you roam.”
\andrew stetson/
[/i] 6’2”
Alias: Ronan Foxx
Age: 21
Orientation: straight as a board
Race: human
Weight: 180 lbs
Build: tall, wiry but solid
Markings: none
[/ul]Special: Thomas is especially human
Character: original
[/blockquote]
[/i]
Likes: horses, wandering, keeping secrets, wooded areas, the smell of worn leather
Dislikes: illness, tight quarters, dishonesty
Strengths: fine horseman, street smart, physically strong
Weaknesses: secretly a sap, stubborn, caring either too much or too little
Fears: that he will never know what happened before,
Secrets: hopeless romantic
Defining Traits:
Strong Sense of Self :: Completely ignoring the fact that he doesn’t remember who he was up until three years prior, Thomas is very confident in who he is as a person. There is no going around his self-assurance, as it is often mistaken for cockiness. Thomas knows who he is, or at least who he thinks he is, and is a very poised, put-together individual. It takes quite a lot to rattle him which is quite different than who he was before the accident.
Perturbingly Evasive :: When in conversation, Thomas tries his best to steer far clear from anyone inquiring of his past beyond what he can remember. He’s always been a terrible liar and has quite a time attempting to make up stories on the spot. It is obvious, when you talk to him, that Thomas doesn’t much enjoy talking about himself and prefers to keep it secret. Also, the more you ask the less he tells and the higher his walls climb.[/ul]
[/blockquote]
[/i] Isobel Lynch Doxey, would be 44, deceased at age 41, worked on family farm
Family:
Father: Alistair Owen Doxey, 48, farmhand
Siblings: William Percival Doxey, would be 18, deceased at age 15, worked on family farm
Other: nada
[/ul]Full History:
For the most part, Thomas’s story was a relatively common one. That is up until he turned eighteen. But let’s not get too ahead of ourselves. Thomas was born as the only child into a depressingly impoverished farming couple. The moment he was old enough, he was put to work, first simple jobs like tending to the chickens and as Thomas grew so did his tasks, lucky for him, however, he became an older brother at the age of three. So, not far behind him in the daily duties of living on a humble farm, bustled along little William. Isobel and Alistar were able to manage to put food on the table before but, with the boys, so much more was able to be accomplished. When Thomas turned twelve, Isobel, his mother, thought that he was mature enough to take on a job to help the family. With quite some luck, by the age of thirteen he found himself working as a stable boy for the Quartermane household. A decent two-day’s ride from his home, Thomas took up a permanent residence in the servant hall of the household. The longer he stayed, the better off he was becoming. Sending the majority of his earnings home, Thomas climbed his way from a stable boy up to the position of head stable-hand as well as an honorary footman when there were guests or parties. Needless to say, the longer he stayed the more he fell hopelessly head-over-heels for Lady Gwethana.
During the winter of Thomas’s eighteenth year his mother fell quite ill with something that had been meandering through the area. Still working at the Quartermane’s estate, he didn’t hear word until Isobel’s illness took a turn for the worst. By the time Thomas was allowed leave and arrived back home, his mother passed. As if the heavens weren’t happy enough with such the tragedy, not hours after the funeral William, fell ill as well and ceased in drawing breath less than a week after. Thomas wanted desperately to stay with his father to hopefully keep the farm running. However, it was Isobel’s dying wish that Thomas continue working at the Quartermane’s. She was quite proud of her son’s accomplishments. After all, who would expect a humble farm boy to so quickly scale the ranks of servitude? Not she. Due to his having to go back, Alistair could not manage the farm by himself, nor could he employ someone to help him. For the funds were simply not available, even with Thomas sending his earnings home. With no other options, Alistair sold the farm and began working for a local landlord as a field hand.
Heavy-hearted, Thomas made the two-day trek back to the Quartermane household. He had only his father's last possession worth a decent sum of money – the, rather large, ebony plow horse – as a traveling companion. Somewhere near the end of the first day of travels, the horse became startled by something and threw Thomas.
A few days later Thomas woke to find himself in a house he had never seen before amongst people he had not met. As a matter of fact, no amount of brain racking could conjure an sort of distinct memory, let alone his own name. It was not only quite an embarrassment but also quite the inconvenience. The lovely family that had kindly plucked him off the side of the road stated that the horse had torn through their property still saddled. This not being the first time they've come across the occurrence, the family knew the horse's rider mustn't be too far off and went on a search.
It wasn't very long before the youngest son found him unconscious, lying amid some rather thorny shrubbery. Aside from a terrible concussion, a memory null of any name, place or previous happening to the present and a few cuts from the underbrush, Thomas was all but in perfect condition.
Once well enough Thomas knew not to do with himself as he had no recollection of his family, his job, or what he even may be doing on the road. It was entirely all too perturbing answering, "To be honest, I'm not certain," when asked his name, Thomas decided to give himself one. Something short and simple, easy to remember but also proud and dignified. Something... something strong.
Ronan. He had determined. Ronan Foxx.
Since there wasn't much for him to do without a memory, without a family, and without a job, Thomas took his - well, what was said to be his - horse and began to travel and search. In search of what exactly? Thomas wasn't too picky but he'd take any and all of the above: someone that recognized him or maybe, if luck prevailed, even just a thread of a memory.
Name: Sonna
Age: 18
Experience: er… 3 years?
RP Sample:
*clears throat awkwardly* I’d really rather not write another one of these…[/blockquote]
