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Author Topic: Ian Dietrich  (Read 1100 times)

Ian Dietrich
« on: June 28, 2017, 12:45:55 AM »

NAME:  Ian Dietrich
DATE OF BIRTH AND AGE (AS OF YEAR 845):  10th of March, Year 814 (31 years old)
PLACE OF BIRTH:  Krolva District, Wall Rose
MEMBER GROUP:  Garrison Regiment
FACE CLAIM:  Himself


Ian is by no means an attractive man, at least not in the conventional sense.  His facial features and profile are distinctively angular, marked by pronounced cheekbones, thin lips, a nose that has been broken on several occasions, and a steep jawline, all framed together by dark blond hair.  It is as though his body was made to match; standing at 6’2” tall, his build is of a lean, sinewy sort that does not easily run to fat.  Naturally inclined to scowl, his expression is often poised somewhere between vaguely pissed off and outright thunderous (regardless of how he may actually be feeling) and that can give that impression that he is standoffish or unapproachable.  Those who do come close enough, however, may note that the irises of his narrow eyes are a pale, blue-grey shade.


In many ways, Ian appears to have the personality of a textbook soldier:  he is obedient, dedicated, strict and courageous.  There is an agility to his movements, a logical outlook that hones his already keen mind.  He is built for leadership and teamwork alike, inherent firmness balanced by genuine compassion and care for his comrades.  Perhaps unfortunately, Ian is not one for articulating his thoughts or feelings through facial expression.  Those easily intimidated might avoid him, not realising that beneath the moody exterior is a man who is selfless and driven, albeit in an almost constant state of tension.  In truth, the only time Ian relaxes utterly is when he has a drink in his hand.  He can and does drink alcohol to excess, but as yet he has never allowed it to influence his work.


•  Combat
•  Considerate
•  Leadership
•  Loyal
•  Resourceful
•  Steadfast
•  Teamwork


•  Alcohol
•  Blunt
•  Peevish
•  Proud
•  Tense
•  Troubled


•  To serve and serve well, to demonstrate how the son of a Krolva whore can aspire to something more.


•  Dishonour and death; fear of the latter is exacerbated by the possibility he might lay down his life only for it to mean nothing.


‘Humble’ does not even begin to describe Ian’s beginnings.

Born screaming, in a darkened room of a dingy house tucked away on the forlorn backstreets of Krolva, Ian had little to his name.  His mother, Una, was not even twenty years of age at the time of his birth, and had been driven onto the streets by sorry circumstances – the precise details of which she chose not to divulge, not even to her only child.  There, her choices had been few:  either steal, starve or sell.  Una opted for the lattermost, finding her place in a small, threadbare brothel.  To Ian, this would be home.

The women of the house were kind for the most part, even though his mother’s choice of carrying him to term had been frowned upon.  There were already too many mouths to feed and it is hardly surprising that no brothers or sisters followed.  While Ian chooses not to think too much of it, he is quite certain his mother took to drinking draughts meant to poison any unwanted thing that might be growing in her belly.

Much of Ian’s childhood was spent on the streets, escaping the dire circumstances of home.  He hated how thin the walls were, how he would sometimes be rudely shaken awake in the middle of the night and ordered to find another room to bed down in.  He hated the bruises that appeared on those he cared for, how powerless he felt, how hunger gnawed at his very gut.

That was what first drove him to steal.  An apple from one vendor, a loaf of bread from another.  He would bolt home, clutching his prizes with grubby fingers, eager to show and share with the ever-changing cast that passed as his family.  In time, he fell into the company of other waifs and strays and, together, they roved the district in small, scheming, scuffling packs.  It was because of them that Ian learned to fight, asserting his dominance over the other children, commanding their respect and encouraging them to work together.  Suddenly, theft became a full-time operation.

Of course, there were nights he limped home to his mother empty-handed, with his face bloodied and his knuckles split.  The pond was full of bigger fish; of older, opportunistic youths, of vendors whose ire granted them the swiftness needed to run down the fleet thief.  Una was older now, cannier, more cynical.  A life of hardship showed itself in her face, while a beating from a particularly volatile punter had broken her teeth and left her with a shattered, rarely seen smile.  Although she worried quietly, never did she openly disapprove of her son’s illicit activities.

After all, desperate times meant desperate measures.

With the passing of years, Ian grew tall and long-limbed.  This was unfortunate for one who had garnered a reputation as a thief and whoreson.  Members of the Military Police would shadow him when he walked through the busy market squares, his height making his movements easy to track.  Suddenly, the risks to stealing were too great.

Yet there was an option which had been denied to Una but remained open to Ian:  the Training Corps.

Enlisting meant an opportunity to prove his worth, and to grow strong enough to protect his mother.  He would even accrue a small wage, which he could then send home.  Thus, at fifteen years old, Ian entered the military.  He was thin, angular and tall for his age.  There was a fire in his belly, however, an anger that propelled him through his classes.  This fury also bred hostility, which meant he resisted authority – at least initially – and that regularly landed him in trouble with his instructors.  Yet by the time graduation rolled around, Ian had largely worked through old hurts.  He had finally realised that he was defined by his actions, not by his birth.  He was a soldier, first and foremost.  A good one.

Despite graduating in the top ten of his year, Ian opted to join the Garrison Regiment instead of the Military Police.  Memories of being hunted by the latter, of the mounting dread that came with being stalked through bustling crowds, were still too fresh.  Committed to his career in the military, Ian has spent the past sixteen years rising to the rank of team leader.  Strict, faithful and logical, he is a respected and capable soldier.

AGE:  28

« Last Edit: February 06, 2018, 08:38:46 PM by Ian Dietrich »

Signature by the wonderful SilverWings! <3

Re: Ian Dietrich
« Reply #1 on: June 29, 2017, 06:55:07 PM »
Oh man, I do hope I've done this guy justice.  Ian, my third and final canon, is ready for review! ~ « Last Edit: June 29, 2017, 06:56:43 PM by Ian Dietrich »

Signature by the wonderful SilverWings! <3

Re: Ian Dietrich
« Reply #2 on: June 29, 2017, 07:29:45 PM »


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