NameCaulder Minaran
RaceHuman
ClassBarren
ProfessionKing's Hunter
BirthplaceSunnarst
Age38
GenderMale (he/him/his)
Sexual OrientationBisexual
Audsalir ∀50
Activity1 posts [Find All Posts] / 0 threads [Find All Threads]

This user has no items.
View All Items

-6'4"

-Dark Brown Hair

-Richly Dark Skin

-Light Brown Eyes

-Broad shouldered, strong build

-Stoic nature

Caulder is tall; the sort of tall that would have naturally become the willowy kind had his experiences left him in peace. His fingers are long, his facial structure is more refined than rugged, his dark hair is utterly straight and falls down his back. He could have easily been a scholar or a musician, but the Fifty Year's War took precedence for him. His shoulders became broad out of necessity, his elegant hands are marred by battle, and whatever softness nature would have given him has been thrown away. He carries many scars from a desperate period of training and fighting dragons before he was ready.

He is initially from Sunnarst, and his coloring is easily distinguishable as a desert dweller. He has traded his loose, colorful robes for the typical attire of Kastali City and the palace. More usually he is dressed in the uniform of the King's Hunters, with a dark hood edged with gold and his dragontooth-lined bracers. He's not normally inclined to jewelry, but since living in the imperial city, he is very tempted to get his ears pierced. On special occasions when the Hunters are called to Court, he wears kohl around his eyes, and as a general principle, he does not often tie back his long hair.

He is a stoic man, prone to thinking before he speaks. He is calculating in and out of battle, and usually sports a neutral, insightful expression as if he has a gift to read thoughts. This stoic front softens when he comes across those who are genuinely kind, or if he encounters something beautiful, like a fresh rain. When he is impatient or irritated, he has a habit of moving his fingers, either in fiddling or tapping or twisting things around his person.

 
 

-6'4"

-Dark Brown Hair

-Richly Dark Skin

-Light Brown Eyes

-Broad shouldered, strong build

-Stoic nature

Caulder is tall; the sort of tall that would have naturally become the willowy kind had his experiences left him in peace. His fingers are long, his facial structure is more refined than rugged, his dark hair is utterly straight and falls down his back. He could have easily been a scholar or a musician, but the Fifty Year's War took precedence for him. His shoulders became broad out of necessity, his elegant hands are marred by battle, and whatever softness nature would have given him has been thrown away. He carries many scars from a desperate period of training and fighting dragons before he was ready.

He is initially from Sunnarst, and his coloring is easily distinguishable as a desert dweller. He has traded his loose, colorful robes for the typical attire of Kastali City and the palace. More usually he is dressed in the uniform of the King's Hunters, with a dark hood edged with gold and his dragontooth-lined bracers. He's not normally inclined to jewelry, but since living in the imperial city, he is very tempted to get his ears pierced. On special occasions when the Hunters are called to Court, he wears kohl around his eyes, and as a general principle, he does not often tie back his long hair.

He is a stoic man, prone to thinking before he speaks. He is calculating in and out of battle, and usually sports a neutral, insightful expression as if he has a gift to read thoughts. This stoic front softens when he comes across those who are genuinely kind, or if he encounters something beautiful, like a fresh rain. When he is impatient or irritated, he has a habit of moving his fingers, either in fiddling or tapping or twisting things around his person.

 

Caulder is a quiet man with silent, but incredibly strong drives. He is driven by two major things: his extreme loyalty to the Human King, and lovely things. Works of art, beautiful architecture, a rosy smile, all of these tend to give him pause when otherwise he is a very straightforward taskmaster. The rain especially ensnares him, having been born in the brutal desert. Once the sky is covered and distant thunder rolls, he cannot peel himself away watching it, his work forgotten. He is in love with the season of Spretta in Kastali City.

Quite normally, he is not one to smile. His gaze is piercing and calculating, gauging who might be a possible enemy of the king. He is not quick to trust others, and if someone is on his bad side, he does not hold back his contempt. Unfortunately, the list of those on his bad side is longer than the alternative. It doesn't take much for him to judge others, though he will never display his feelings in anger. He is the farthest thing from rash and temperamental.

On his downtime when there are no dragons to hunt, he spends his time in the palace libraries or within his room withdrawn in self-contemplation. He is one to question himself, to explore the dilemmas of his personality, and recently, there has been more to consider.

He still finds himself drawn to the gentle rain and to soft souls, but recently there have been wordless desires that draw his hand with growing occurrence. His tongue has grown sharper, his heart more unkind, his thoughts more cynical. The blood of fae and dragons rest on his hands, and his gaze has shifted. Where once he bowed to the Human King without hesitation with his eyes fixed to the ground, his calculating gaze now lingers longer than it should. This shift in his own behavior, this silent hunger without a name, disturbs him, and he does not know its cause.

He does not have good relations with the fae due to the war, nor to dragons due to his work. He is distrustful of the former, and thinks of the latter as dangerous animals that should only serve the crown, for he has only seen them kill his fellow Hunters.

Sometimes he feels a longing to trade his sword for an instrument again. His fingers still remember the dance across strings and keys, and his heart can still recall the beauty of producing the sounds he craves. However often he feels this desire, he always lets it die in favor of his work. The Human King does not need a musician, and Caulder is the King's man down to the bone.

 

He was born in Falla, the only season that grants rain to the parched desert of Sunnarst. Born in a rich province to a family of artisans, Caulder proved his talents for music from a very early age. No matter what he attempted - singing, string, percussion or wind instruments - he threw himself into them with a passion. He turned ethereal feelings into song, or the memory of a family member into a limerick. He was one of a large community that praised him and had high hopes for him. They treated his talents as a gift from the stars as worshipers of Celestialism. Caulder thought their prayers beautiful, but as he grew into his youth, he felt something missing from those distant, silent watchers in the sky.

When he was twelve, his talent for music inevitably brought him into higher circles. Nobles he played for whispered about the Fifty Year's War, and their talks gripped him with a horrible strength. He listened to, was drawn to, searched for, and then actively devoured any word of the man who was to be their Human King. His thoughts revolved around the battles and struggles till his compositions became forgotten, useless things.

One day, he overheard a noblewoman cry over her son who had run away to join the war efforts, and Caulder was immediately seized with the same desire. There was no smothering this need in him to join, and his family wept when he announced his plan at the tender age of fourteen. You are too young! they cried, You have a gift! Would you throw away your hands for another man's impossible desire?

He ran away from his loving home in the dead of night, committing a dreadful sin in Sunnarst eyes. The betrayal of his family's wishes weighed heavily on his heart, as heavily as his discarded love of music - but this heaviness fell away when he came closer to the sound of war drums.

Fate pulled him this way and that, sparing him from the front lines, but instead placing him in the maw of a different kind of danger. He demanded to join the King's Hunters, who would capture and use those powerful beasts for the benefit of the crown. But when he pounded on their doors, they spat at him and said, You are too old. The King's Hunters wanted the very young, the orphaned, the children who could be molded to the King's use. And though despair gripped his heart, he kept persisting.

He joined in the training of the older Hunters with a fervent desperation. Here he would be of service, here his passionate prayers of the King's Decree would come to fruition. He was quickly elected to an official Hunter and thrown into Hunts, and he learned how to survive. Nothing, nothing would stop him from seeing the Human King crowned.

The day of the coronation was perhaps the happiest day of his life.

After that, he rose in the ranks until he became a Senior Hunter, leading Hunts of his own, with his own rooms in the palace barracks. Now that his desire has been met....something else stirs on his mind, wordless and just as passionate as his love for the king.