Congratulations PJ and welcome back! We’re so happy to accept your application to play Dorian Rhoads with the faceclaim of Grant Gustin in Fire & Glory RPG! We can’t wait to begin roleplaying with you so please remember to look over our checklist!
!! tw: death mention !!
Out of Character Information:
Name: PJ
Pronouns: He/Him
Age: 20
Timezone: EST
Activity: I do work full time and I typically work the afternoon shift, so most of the time I’ll be able to get on either in the morning or early afternoon but the bulk of my activity will be at night, typically after 10:30-11 PM. On my days off, however, it’s fair game.
Original Character Application:
Name: Dorian Rhoads
Age and Birthday: 23; 11/11/94
Faceclaim: 1) Grant Gustin 2) Dacre Montgomery
Heritage: Son of Apollo (Roman)
ABILITIES: Enhanced reflexes, peak archery ability, photokinesis
Affiliation: First Cohort
Headcanons:
1) Dorian has been writing and playing music since he was in the first grade. It started out in his music class playing the recorder, as he began to write simple melodies, and continued into middle school when he picked up the saxophone in the school band. He worked with his band director to start feeling out other instruments, having an insatiable desire to learn as much as he could about not only the rudiments of playing as many instruments as he could get his hands on, but also composition and theory. By the time he graduated high school, he’d picked up the saxophone, clarinet, various percussion instruments, guitar, piano, and he’d even joined the school choir.
2) Dorian’s fighting style consists almost exclusively of playing defensively. Being naturally agile, his strategies revolve around wearing down his opponents by dodging and dipping around their attacks until they get tired out, at which point he shifts to offense. In close range combat he prefers twin Pugio and the occasional Gladius, and for long range combat he arms himself with a bow and arrows.
Biography:
!! tw: death mention !!
Dorian was always a kind soul. From the day he was born he was always smiling at people, some he’d never even met before. His parents taught him that whatever he put out into the world would eventually come back to him, so he did everything he could to be a good person. Most of the time he’d translate whatever positive energy he had into music and lyrics, having been playing the guitar as well as many other instruments from a young age.
Dorian was born in Greenpoint, New York and moved to Queens when he was five. He lived a middle class life, taking what was given to him and not taking any of it for granted. Growing up his mother was a massive influence on his music taste, driving him to pick up a guitar and countless other instruments. It was odd actually, the fact that he could pick up any instrument and gain a loose grasp on how to play it within an hour. Something about making music brought him a feeling of joy that nothing else in his life had. It started out with the guitar but by the time he’d gotten to middle school and he’d been introduced to their symphonic band, his repertoire expanded to include the saxophone, percussion, and even the piano in the jazz band. By high school he’d been recognized by the school’s band director as one of, if not the, most talented musicians they’d encountered in years.
By the time he graduated high school he’d filled six different notebooks with various pieces of music written for various instruments. It was clear that he had a gift, and the representatives at Berklee College of Music had certainly taken notice of that. Dorian himself had heard nothing but good things about the school from his band director with whom he’d grown extremely close to over the years and it quickly became his dream school. The interview and audition processes were a breeze for him and it wasn’t long before he could consider himself an official student of Berklee College of Music in the class of 2016, majoring in Contemporary Writing and Production.
The Summer before his first year at Berklee, however, it seemed fate had other plans for Dorian’s future. A vacation to San Francisco with his mother and stepfather seemed like exactly what the family needed before Dorian would be shipped off to school, but the reality was that it was the decision that would prove to be their undoing. They decided to take a hike up Land’s End, a seemingly harmless idea for a little family fun, but it wouldn’t be long before things took a turn for the worse. To any passersby, it would look like the family had stumbled upon a mother bear at the wrong time, but Dorian saw a completely different scene. A hulking Minotaur burst through the trees and claimed the lives of his parents before sending Dorian over a cliff, plunging him to a watery grave. When he made contact with the water everything went black, and in what seemed like minutes he found himself in an infirmary in an unknown location. When the doctors noticed that their patient had finally come to, they were quick to run to his bedside. He had more questions than they’d ever have time to answer, but the answers he did receive weren’t ones he wanted to hear. His parents were dead. Killed by a beast Dorian had never even seen before. He was only alive by the grace of the gods, as they told him. He was brought to where he resided, Camp Jupiter, by the Roman god Apollo, Dorian’s birth father. It was so much more than he could ever process, and the days that followed were some of the hardest of his life. His entire world had been turned upside down, his future in shambles.
Once he’d finally been able to regain his bearings, he met with the Praetor and discussed his options. It was then that he decided to remain at Camp Jupiter to embrace his demigod heritage and train in the Legion, vowing to train as hard as he could in an effort to never again allow a tragedy such as what he’d experienced to befall him or anyone he cared about. Time passed relatively quickly, weeks turning into months, turning into years until his dedication to his vow paid off, landing himself in the First Cohort.
Para Sample:
The sun hadn’t even gotten the chance to rise before Dorian was awake. He never allowed himself to sleep in, always making his way to the training grounds before they got too busy. He liked as much solitude as possible while he warmed up; it eliminated distractions and distractions were not a thing Dorian could afford. He had to maintain his focus on the task at hand and prepare himself for the day as efficiently as possible. Bow slung over his shoulder and twin Pugio strapped to his belt, he trudged down the path that lead to the training grounds in silence, breath visible in the bone-chilling air.
“Pick up the pace, Dorian!”
His attention was drawn away from the scenery as his mother’s voice called out to him. The warm Summer sun warmed Dorian’s face as he jogged ahead to meet his parents. He was far too easily distracted by his surroundings, causing him to lag behind a fair amount.
“Sorry, sorry.” he muttered, a sheepish grin forming on his lips. “Can’t blame me for gawking, can you?”
“You can gawk all you want when we reach the end of the trail.” his mother insisted, taking a much needed sip from her water bottle before securing it into the pocket of her backpack. “Michael’s already a fair distance ahead of us. C’mon, time to make up for lost ground.” She motioned for him to follow as he began jogging ahead, Dorian quick to follow.
Thunk. The sound pierced the air as Dorian’s arrow found its target, hitting the stack of hay dead center. Another arrow knocked, a slow, calculated breath. The arrow loosed and flew through the air, splitting the previous arrow down the middle. There was a moment of hesitation, chest steadily rising and falling as his gaze remained transfixed on the target. Something felt off. He couldn’t place it, but something was itching at the back of his mind. He shook his head, choosing to push the thoughts aside as he made his way toward the target to retrieve his arrow.
The sun had already begun to set, the sky a mixture of soft shades of blue. There was an eerie quiet that had set upon the wilderness as the three made their way down the trail. Suddenly, the sound of a roar off in the distance made them stop in their tracks.
“What was that?” Dorian asked, looking to his parents and hoping for an explanation.
“I’m not sure,” Michael answered, peering into the woods, eyes squinted in an attempt to see better. The sound of galloping grew louder and louder, the patriarch protectively stepping in front of his family before a beast ten times the size of any bear burst through the trees.
“Dorian!” The sound of his name ripped him from his blacked out state, finding himself straddling his sparring partner with his fist raised, ready to deliver a final blow. His chest heaved as beads of sweat slowly rolled down his cheek, arm slowly falling to his side.
“I–I’m sorry.” he muttered as he pulled himself to his feet, outstretching an arm to help his partner to his. He could feel the disappointed stare of his friend burning into the back of his head, finally turning to meet her gaze.
“I think it’s time for you to call it a day,” She suggested, arms crossing over her chest as she glanced over Dorian’s shoulder to make sure his sparring partner was okay. As much as he hated to admit it, she was probably right.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re right. I’m getting a little tired anyhow.” He agreed, turning toward the man he’d almost knocked out cold. He opened his mouth to speak, but the male quickly cut him off.
“Dude, it’s fine. We all have our bad days. I’m fine, I swear.” He insisted, offering the son of Apollo a reassuring smile. “I’ll just have to get you back next time.”
The tease got a gentle chuckle out of Dorian, shaking his head. “Yeah, good luck with that.”
