Name: Hrothgar Reid
Age: 19
Sex: Male
Date of birth: October 18th
Place of birth: Ivernia, Ulster
Status: Alive
Race: Human
Nationality: Ulsterian
Marital status: Single
Height: 5’5’’
Weight: 182 lbs
Eye color: Hazel/Green
Skin color: Pale with countless freckles
Hair color: Ginger
Voice: A lazy, lyrical baritone, though only noticeable when one can manage to make him speak louder then his usual quiet monotone mumbling.
Notable marks: Half of his left eyebrow is missing since his early adolescence. He can’t begin to remember how or why it stopped growing, as he has no wound or scar that would prevent it from doing so. He assumes that wherever it has gone to, it must be a nice place if it hasn’t come back yet. He often has dark bags under his eyes from reading long into the night, often without a sufficient light source. He also has a small mole on the left side of his face, just above his lip and just within his smile lines.
>> Image.
>> Persona.
Demeanor: Quiet and easily looked over, Hrothgar avoids confrontation at almost any cost. Being ignored is the norm for him, and he most likely wouldn’t have it any other way. His posture seems to invite this notion, as he tends to hunch and slouch his already short height, attempting to become as invisible as possible. He has resigned himself a bit to the idea that his role in this life is to just to be the observer, not the participant. He is very introspective, introverted, and often has a noticeable, nervous pause before he speaks. He is quick to apologize, likely to never voice his opinion too strongly in favor of coming to a compromise, and overall very meek. While he is an educated young man, he is still very naïve in regards to countless topics that require experience outside of ink and paper.
History: Hrothgar was born the only child to an upper class, nearly-noble-but-not-quite family in the small city of Ivernia. While most children grew out of enjoying fairy tales and stories, he never seemed to lose his passion for them. He could sit for hours, nearly motionless if given a book if it suited his tastes. He would babble at length to anyone who would listen about great adventures with great gusto. He had with seemingly no discrepancy that they were just exceptionally vivid dreams he had seen in his sleep. His parents were convinced that he would make a fine scholar and storyteller, and sent him off to further his education at an early age.
While Hrothgar was able to devour book after book with vicarious enthusiasm, in all his other subjects he was painstakingly average or below. He struggled to maintain high marks, not wanting to tarnish his parents’ vision. Increasingly frustrated with his inability to be as good as wished, he spent long hours studying. Often times he would spend days awake, attempting to study and learn topics that seemed to be so easily grasped by his peers. He began to loathe sleep, for all it would not bring rest to his anxiety-addled mind. His dreams became a direct contrast to the fantastic nighttime images of his youth, instead twisting themselves into unsettling and horrific visions that paralyzed his body and drove stakes of panic into his chest. Studying, reading, and envisioning Dystopia’s mythos became his refuge from the high expectations of the world and the nerve-racking dreams that sleep began to bring.
With the onset of the night terrors, his marks began to slip dramatically. Denying himself of sleep left him walking about the world in a haze, unable to remember even the simplest requests of his instructors. Days would go by when he would not remember when one began and another ended. Guilty for spending his father’s money on education that he felt he was wasting and not even worthy of receiving, Hrothgar hastily decided to withdraw himself from the institution. Unwilling to see his parents’ disappointment in person, he did so discreetly and without permission from them. It wasn’t until a few weeks after he had left that he sent word to his father. He informed him that he was taking a sabbatical of an indiscriminate length until he felt he was prepared to return, not giving any inkling as to the cause. His dreams have since been returning to a less frightening state, and he has taken care to begin documenting them the moment he wakes.
>> Contacts.
[None at the moment. He has to be tossed into the fray and actually make some contacts for this to be of any use.]
>> Powers and Abilities.
Special abilities: Hrothgar can remember his dreams in extreme detail, though not for very long after he wakes. His dreams very rarely reflect his own state of mind, instead being rather empathic. In the stress of studying at the institution, his sleeping mind received all the anxiety of the other students, recreating dreadful dreams of failure that led to his sabbatical, for example.
Often the images in his dream are symbolic and do not directly tell a story or address an issue. This leads to him spending several hours contemplating what that particular dream might have meant or if it meant anything at all. His groggy, short-hand scrawl that he documents when he records them are not very legible except to himself, and even then sometimes he cannot read is own writing. It most likely comes from his stubborn way of holding every writing utensil between his ring and small finger rather then between his thumb and forefinger, but he will blame being half-asleep before he blames that. Besides the initial mess of these records, he further scribbles notes when thoughtful insight strikes him.
Hrothgar does not consider his dreams to be anything particularly special. He does notice that many people can not remember their own dreams in such detail as he can, only vague notions and the occasional emotional moment, and that brings him distress to think about. He does not like to think his dreams are special, because it just brings something else to remind him that he is an observer, strange, and not “normal”. As such, he often does not like to discuss dreams, even when witnessed waking from a particularly emotional one.
Fighting style: Assuming he doesn’t avoid said fight or come to some sort of compromise? Running. Running and hiding.
