Full Name: Tyrus Viath
Gender: Male (Manly as hell too)
Age: 33
Element: Water
Birthplace: Northern Water Tribe
Position: Chief
Training: Expert Waterbender, Better Icebender, Expert Armsman
Personality: Just looking at Tyrus, you get a feeling of foreboding. He is strong and blunt looking, a very intimidating figure, but he's a bit deeper than he appears. While he is brutally honest with those he does not like, anyone who can break through that hard shell will find a man willing to have a few laughs and show his huge, scary smile. He enjoys hunting and games of strength, anything involving a little power is his kind of thing. The best way to negotiate with Tyrus is to challenge him, because he will never deny you. As long as you win the challenge that is, Tyrus is incredibly competitive and will stop at nothing to be victorious. He would never resort to cheating, he's very honorable that way, but winning by brute force is not beyond him. He's good with children, and despite his scary appearance, Tyrus seems to give off a vibe that make kids okay with approaching him. He has no patience for the weak, not the weak-armed but those who are nervous and have difficulty talking to him. Around those people he become viscerally mean, not on purpose but out of instinct. Strong personalities seem to meld with him quite well.
Tyrus is also easily put in a good mood by various things. A hearty meal, an alcoholic beverage, or spending some time in his forge are sure to put Tyrus in a stellar mood. When broken out of his shell, Tyrus is incredibly booming. He speaks loudly and uses a lot of friendly gestures (and might hit someone on the back a little too hard).
His intelligence is surprisingly large too. While he might seem like an oaf, his drive to do things the correct way also applied to academia. He is well versed in History, Culture, and other Sociological issues along with his already expansive knowledge in crafting and building. While a deep philosophical conversation might not be too prudent for Tyrus, do not put him past speaking of important matters in the world today.
Abilities: Tyrus can bend water just fine, but get him around ice, and his bending becomes nearly mythological. Tyrus seems to be part of the cold, bristling ice, and can throw it around in huge amounts at high speeds. He has zero style, unless brute force is a style, and fighting him is mostly a game of dodging because of his preference for hurling blocks of ice at people. He's never tried healing, and hasn't cared to. He prefers his injuries and scars to clear skin anyway. As for weapons, Tyrus is very adept with his sickle-staff. It's basically a long staff made of hard wood with a jagged sickle at the end. Tyrus is pretty sure it's unbreakable, he's been whacking stuff with it for so long and it has yet to snap. He fights a lot like he bends, smacking hard enough to knock someone out for good is usually what he aims for.
Tyrus is also extremely good at forging weapons, armor, and other metal goods. Before he became the chief of the Water Tribe, his entire life was dedicated to this practice. His brute strength gives him the ability to hammer out anything in a much quicker amount of time than usual. He seems to have keen senses, because he is able to spot the sharpest swords based on their edge, and the toughest armor based on their sound. This also helps him when hunting because of his ability to spot movement in the distance and pick up on little sounds.
He also has natural athleticism which helps him endure long battles and do various feats of strength. Tyrus is constantly exercising because the activities he enjoys do not involve sitting for long. Whether he's hammering out a breastplate or carrying a couple dead wolves on his back, Tyrus is never relaxing for long.
Appearance:
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 215
Eyes: Black
Hair: Black
Tyrus, as mentioned, is a very intimidating figure. His hair is usually messy and off of his forehead, but it is also usually covered by the mouth of a polar bear. Tyrus is pretty commonly wearing the fur of a bear he killed a few years ago, and it's head is adorned like a hat upon his head. His browline is heavy, and the brows are even heavier, bristling all over the place but with a clear line between them. His nose is normal, and it curves out rather than down. His lips are often in a hard-line, resemble his flesh in color, and are very non-feminine. Hawk-like eyes glare at those around Tyrus, and their is no line between the pupil and iris, they're equally black, but his eyes become very warm around those he likes. His brows and eyes are usually furrowed in a grumpier expression. Tyrus has a 5-o'-clock shadow no matter the time, which puts the bottom half of his face in a seemingly constant shadow. His chin is strong and under it is a wide, veiny neck. Many scars adorn him, too many to describe.
For attire, Tyrus is usually sporting all kind of animal. He has his polar-bear skin, which acts as both a hat and cape, and is his most common piece. He usually sports inside-out skins as a coat, with the animal's fur poking out the sleeves and collar. Leapard-seal leather is used for his pants, like most of the tribe. He also has a necklace. He was angry that the bottom jaw of his polar-bear kill would be thrown away, so he cut it out of it's skin and muscle and got someone to thread a string through it. The bottom jaw now sits across his barrel chest. He's a very hefty man with huge arms, legs, and body, and there are also many huge teeth and fangs adorned at various places. Teeth are bristling from his sleeves.
In battle, Tyrus wears black armor that he forged for himself long ago. It's expertly crafted and shines in the sun. The addition metal makes Tyrus look even bigger, and turns him into a frightening adversary. Tyrus is able to barrel through battlers when in his metal shell.
Weaponry & Other Gear: His sickle-staff that I mentioned earlier. I believe it's described well-enough.
History: Tyrus grew up as the tough kid, and it never went away. He just seemed to be naturally built to be built. His father, also very strong, took him hunting at very young ages, carrying him a backpack when he was still too young to walk. Tyrus tried to be the best at everything, crashing through any challenge with as much power and confidence as he could. This strategy worked surprisingly well in academics too. In childhood, Tyrus seemed to always be leading one group or another, creating different challenges for himself and others wherever he could. He led other children in games, little hunts, adventuring.
Like all the other kids, Tyrus was also trained in the ways of bending. His teacher was very good at what he did, but Tyrus did not care for the grace and fluidity involved in twirling water around. He still did it, he still tackled it with all he had, but he did no enjoy it. And then they go to ice. While the teacher taught the children to use that same fluidity, Tyrus quickly realized there was a brute force to ice that water lacked. He began using fists more than the dancing motions in order to bend the ice. This didn't impress his teacher, but Tyrus couldn't be changed in this regard.
He was also put into a more knowledge based schooling. He learned of history and other matters as best he could, even if he didn't do so well on essay part. His mother and father had both been advocates for knowledge and were proud that Tyrus was able to make it through his courses despite his strong-willed behaviors. Despite this education, Tyrus decided to go into more physical fields rather than knowledge based ones.
As he grew, Tyrus experimented in metalworking and ship-building in order to forge a career and loved the tough work it involved. He eventually started working in his own forgery which he built with his hands, only buying the metal he needed to get going. He made sure to become the most adept smith in the entire tribe, and became very confident in his ability. His power made sure he could create even the most delicate of objects. It was a one-man shop though, so he never took on very big orders, he wasn't the smith for the entire water nation or anything.
Until the chief found his shop. He walked in one day without announcing his presence, and Tyrus didn't notice him until he cleared his throat. Tyrus looked up, grunted a greeting and went back to beating the helmet he was working on. After a silence, the former chief spoke up about a chance for Tyrus to help forge for the entire water army. Catching his attention for the first time, Tyrus stood up and towered over the chief. He then flashed a huge smile and accepted, a crushing handshake going with it. He had to take on a lot of apprentices to keep up, but Tyrus was happy with the job.
Tyrus began gaining a reputation as the best blacksmith in the twin tribes thanks to the strong armor the military was now sporting. Of course, not many knew who Tyrus was, but they did notice how the army had brand new uniforms that all looked far better than the old ones. They looked more exact, refined, a bit more uniform. Tyrus was pleased with his work and seemed to be getting commissioned for more and more work, which required him to take on even more apprentices. His building had to absorb three around it in order to have enough room for all the jobs that were now being done. Tyrus was incredibly proud of his strong business.
Then the chief died. He had no heir, and a clambering for someone to take his place ended with Tyrus. The tribe saw him as a war figure, someone ready to take the reins. They knew of his strength and willpower and his power in bending, and after a couple weeks of confusion, Tyrus was chosen as the tribal chief. He was surprisingly happy with the position and became an imposing figure with a silly smile. His love for hunting and smithing went with him, and his own forgery is not too far from the throne room. A room full of just animal bodies and heads isn't too far either. Tyrus' lack of diplomacy is sure to be tested, but his secretly warm heart is sure to pull the tribe through.
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Tyrus
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What could be funner than a hunt? Tyrus' new, annual royal hunt was underway, and Tyrus was finding it just a bit more annoying than he had wanted. While Tyrus had not brought any sort of Royal family with him besides his parents, he'd had a Royal staff thrown upon him. Let's just say they were bookish. Lara, Tyrus' administrative assistant, had nearly collapsed into a pile of tears upon seeing what she called, "the biggest wolf in this god-forsaken nation". Tyrus had his lips set, ready to tear this woman to pieces in his mind. Maybe he should stick to hunting by himself or with a select few friends. He had, of course, killed the wolf with a slice of his sickle and kept thinking to himself, "This wolf does not even have enough fur for this woman to wear. What in Hell caused this?" He was of course referring to the now blubbering Lara, who was sitting on the ice with her arms around her knees.
"And now you've gone and killed the poor creature!" she cried, holding her mittened hand out toward the dead wolf. Tyrus' left eyebrow shot up immediately, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it.
[color=#009999]"You had just finished telling us how it was the biggest wolf in the nation." Tyrus said through bared teeth.
"But you didn't need to kill it!" she shouted back. Lara was lucky she had diplomatic guts. Tyrus would have been even more annoyed if she hadn't fought back. He put his thumb and forefinger on his eyebrows and dipped his head like he was incredibly frustrated.
"Are we nearly done? a timid voice said. It was a man named Saul, who Tyrus absolutely despised. As the Royal appointment taker, he was sort of necessary for Tyrus to have around, albeit replaceable. Tyrus couldn't stand him because of how timidly he talked to Tyrus, like the man thought Tyrus would break his spine at any moment. At this moment, Tyrus was definitely thinking on it. The mumbled, pleading voice in which the question was asked was enough to send Tyrus over the edge.
"No! We are not. nearly. done!" Tyrus roared. The entire Royal staff stared at him with various expressions, but they all stared none the less. A walrus picked the wrong time to walk by, and Tyrus crushed it with a chunk of ice. He did not turn around, he did not want to see his frightened little staff.
A hand touched his shoulder. With a sniffle, Lara whispered, "Hey, it's alright. I'm sorry I was so afraid. My aunt was killed by a wolf you know." Tyrus looked over at her.
"Then why were you so angry that I killed it? he asked, more curious than angry.
"My mother always told me that even though my aunt had been killed by the wolves, her spirit would always be within them." Lara gave him a small, invisible smirk, and Tyrus gave one back. At least she had some moxie. The rest of the staff patiently waited for Tyrus' orders, more out of fear than the respect Tyrus wanted.
| Mood: Annoyed
Condition: Fine | |
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