Edolon: Empires at War  

Go Back   Edolon: A Tournament of Shadows > Guide Book > Deadly Decadent Court

Deadly Decadent Court approved characters

Your Stats
Your Avatar

In The Game

Game is Rated MA, 18+

Current Events:
   ♕Royal Progress (3.17.331-????)

   ♕Bandit Attack (4.17.331)
The king's company is set upon along the road from Mirrormount to Moonspire...


Newest Posts

Tag Cloud

(click if you have a moment to vote for us)

Shadowplay Topsites

Top RPG Sites

RP Lovers

User Tag List

Thread Tools Display Modes
Old 12-20-2014, 12:43 AM   #1
The Oracles
the gods mods speak
The Oracles's Avatar
Join Date: Nov 2012
Posts: 1,079
My Mood:
Mentioned: 0 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Default Jason Vellfyre

Name: Jason Vellfyre
Titles, if any: Prince Jason Vellfyre, Prince of Summerhall
Age and Birthdate: (27 at game start - turning 28) born on the 26th day of the tenth month, 302
Hometown/Area of Origin: Tal Volorro in Kingsreach
Noble House, Affiliations: Son of Rothgar Vellfyre, King of Edolon
Position at Court: Prince, Heir Apparent

Height: 6'5"
Hair Color: Dark Blonde
Eye Color: Blue
Notable Marks/Scars: Innumerable scars on his back. Fifteen fingernail shaped scars shared between his left thumb and index finger. Parallel scars on his right wrist which run horizontally. Similar scars on both of his ankles. A four inch burn scar that runs along the top of his right hand just above the knuckle of his pinky to the inside of his wrist. Older, more faded scars on his arms, but hard to see unless very close in a certain light. Jason is usually very careful in hiding his scars. Wears long sleeves, high boots, and gloves most of the time. It is not uncommon to see him wear a glove only on his right hand.
PB: Nikolaj Coster-Waldau
George R. R. Martin - "There are no men like me. There's only me." (Jaime Lannister)

For Jason Vellfyre, war is his purpose, but family is his life. Born to a life of privilege, he has never really wanted for anything tangible. Though many would assume the life of a prince is a spoiled one, and in some measure he is quite spoiled, Jason is not one to covet material possessions or throw a fit if his nameday presents are lacking. He had resigned himself early in life to be an afterthought. After all, he was the second son to a king, and it only took a few years of spending time around his uncle to realize what that meant: Your life was not your own. It belonged to your brother. For his part, he never came to resent this. Jason idolized both of his brothers. James was intelligent and kind, but could be firm when the need arose. Rollant was fun and protective, somebody he always felt safe around. In short, he was comfortable with his lot in life and never once had reason to complain overall. That, of course, did not mean he didn't complain from time to time. He was a prince after all. And an older brother. Most of his complaints, therefore, normally were a result of his younger sisters pestering him or annoying him. But even then there was no heat behind his tantrums, and he would eventually come to cherish his time with his sisters. He would especially develop a close bond with Ziamara. But that would not come until well after his life was overturned.

He loved the time he spent in Delving. It was a short chapter of his life, but a profound one. He developed a deep respect for Ryan Seyfert and formed close friendships with his sons, particularly the eldest. But his time there was not to last as his brother, James, died without warning. Jason received the news during dinner and for those who saw him, all they would be able to say is that the young prince fell silent for a long time. Beneath the surface, Jason was devastated. James was his role model and though there was a significant age difference, he considered him to be one of his closest friends. He loved his brother deeply and such a loss tore at him in a way he never had time to deal with, for with the sorrow of his death came the realization that a new weight was to be put on Jason's shoulders. He was next in line to be king. A boy who had resigned himself to the shadows was now to be thrust into the light and made for greatness. All of this at once was too much to handle, so when he was recalled home, he was very quiet and very scared. Though it is not so prominent now (Jason as a teenager was a bit more rambunctious) some of those feelings still linger.

Because he was recalled home and then sent to Summerhall, Jason is exceptionally close with his uncle, Bryce, and his cousins. He had been closest with Garrett, the eldest of Bryce's children, but he also got along well with Gavin. He often would butt heads with Kain, but their rivalry was born from their natural competitiveness... Or at least that's how Jason saw it. For his quiet meekness as a child, he is extremely competitive. He hates to lose and will stop at nothing to win. Unfortunately, as a boy, he didn't necessarily have the brawn to back it up. He was a model squire, of course, but his cousins often had a few inches on him. Feeling the need to compensate for this, he trained hard and often, choosing to spend more time in the practice yard than was required of the boys his age. He is no stranger to injury and developed something of a high tolerance for pain. For instance, he didn't realize his nose was broken until Bryce reached across the table and twisted it back into place. It took many years, but eventually Jason was able to stand toe-to-toe with taller opponents, and his strength was enough to make up for the difference. When he hit his growth spurts... Jason became a force to be reckoned with. His training coupled with his natural height and build makes him quite the bruiser. More than once after he left for war did he learn that he needed to better control his strength. Hits meant to be warnings often times would require medical care. A broken jaw was a hard lesson to learn for mouthing off to a commanding officer. It is now a habit for Jason to pull his punches and be careful with how he wields his temper.

As is often the case, his temper was a lot more volatile when he was a child. He was quick to anger and insult because he didn't understand how else to deal with the emotion. But he learned from his elders and most especially from Ryan Seyfert how to manage that temper. Now it is difficult to rile him up to the point of true anger. He is still easily irritated and can be very judgmental (indeed, Jason usually makes his mind up about a person after a few minutes), but very few people can say they'd seen an adult Jason lose it. When he does, however, his anger can be destructive and long-lasting. He is not quick to forget slights against him or his family, and while he may not always strike back right away, if he so chooses to take revenge, it is sure to be as devastating as he can make it. He has a sense of humor to be sure, but not necessarily a conventional one. He is dry and scathing at times, not one to laugh at silliness or childish behavior. His wit has been known to pick people to the bone, and if you should find yourself out of his favor, you are not immune from his quick barbs. In general, he is more likely to speak down to a person he dislikes than resort to the devastation route.

A fiercely intelligent man, he is happiest in his studies, honing both his martial craft and mental craft, as he calls it. He is a voracious reader much to the dismay of his mother who has more than once said it's easier for him to get lost in a book than to remember to eat that day... And if he could neglect such things for scholarly pursuits, he might neglect other, more important matters. Even so, he is willing to take such a risk for it is the one thing that he can truly say is a pursuit of his own choosing. Not known for being a diplomat, he is well versed in the law and in politics even though he might not be an active participant just yet. It is easy then for others to underestimate his ability in such an area. Like many of the Vellfyres before him, Jason was blessed with an abundance of charisma, though whether or not he chooses to be charming at any given moment is entirely up to him.

There are few people he trusts more than Rhaegar Vayth or Elijah Vaughn and it is with them that he is truly himself: a fun-loving man, prone to smiles and laughter, and willing to embark on half-made schemes that are just as ridiculous as the one thought up before it. Brothers in arms, they served with him and faced a darkness he still battles even though he is long away from the war. The brutality of such a time has had a lasting effect, one he is quick to deny and pretend away during his waking hours. It is when he is asleep that he is called back to the sword, when he is back in the dungeons of his captors, when his mind replays events that he wishes had remained behind.

Mostly his thoughts are of his brother. Rollant's death shook his father and his sisters, but it haunts Jason more than he's ever admitted out loud. When he'd been captured, most of his dreams were of his brother coming to rescue him, and it took some time after he was saved to remember that he was gone. Like with James' death, he was very quiet after Rollant died, but this was a much angrier time for him. Bitter and depressed, he took his frustrations out on Elijah who, to his credit, allowed it and still remained his good friend thereafter. Time has not made the loss any easier... But he knows how to paste a smile on his face and pretend to be all right.

As far as his parents go... There is no denying that Jason deeply admires and respects his father. But to the observant onlooker, there does appear to be some distance, whether forced or one-sided, between them. Jason often treats Rothgar more as king than father, and is more likely to confide in his uncle as a son would than anybody else. Even so, he would never outwardly be difficult to him and he gives him the respect that his title and position is due. His mother is a different matter altogether. Publically, he does not interact with her more than what is strictly necessary. Even to the unobservant onlooker, their relationship seems cold. At least on his side. She appears to play the part of doting mother well enough, but it is clear Jason is resistant to her. In this matter, he might be considered a spoiled brat because it would seem his mother gives of herself and the world for her only son, but he seems indifferent to her. Privately, the hatred runs deep. He is still careful to watch his behavior knowing his father would not approve of blatant disrespect, but that being said, if his mother died tomorrow, he probably wouldn't bat an eyelash or shed a tear.

302: Prince Jason Vellfyre of Tal Volorro is born at Vellesca. Given the milkname Bumblebee because he was making a buzzing sound with his lips when presented to his father.

305: Half-sister, Ziamara, is born to his father and Lynethe Vikary. Jason didn't like not being the youngest for a bit, but he got over it pretty quickly.

306: Princess Valencia of Tal Volorro is born at Vellesca

308: Older Half-brother, Rollant, is sent to Southshores to foster with the high lord. Jason had some trouble adjusting to the separation, but he hid it fairly well.

309: Jason is sent to Delving to foster with Lord Ryan Seyfert. Though he does not remain for many years, he comes to view Delving as a home of sorts.

312: James, Jason's oldest brother and heir to the throne, dies suddenly. Jason can only feel shock and is not really given enough time to feel anything else before he is taken from Delving and promptly sent to Summerhall with his cousins and aunt (sometimes uncle). It is here where he meets Elijah Vaughn who would become his childhood and lifelong friend.

315: A fever sweeps through the Shores so Jason and his siblings are kept in seclusion at Summerhall. By and large, Jason is thrilled with it. But he was sure to act slightly put out whenever somebody was around.

318: Myles, a younger brother, is born to his father and his new mistress. Jason pleads to return to Summerhall earlier in the year than usual.

320: While Jason strongly disagrees with Ziamara's choice for husband, he is not nearly so vocal about his opposition as his brother becomes. He stands back silently, learning from his brother's example that not much could be done to prevent it. Doesn't speak to his family aside from his brother, his cousins, and Bryce much this year. Begins to actively avoid certain members.

321: Jason is knighted by his father. Later that year would go on to win a melee at a tournament. The event is what he becomes known for.

322: Attends his brother's wedding. Is mostly sour throughout as he had been forbidden from taking part in the tournament.

324: Jason grows about four inches this year. Wasn't extremely tall beforehand. Breaks six feet and lands at a comfortable six foot two inches. The Trimerid royals come for talks. Jason has to sit through them... He keeps quiet for the most part, but does not drift during any of it. Observes his father carefully as well as others.

325: Jason is sent North to Zaksebar as the King's Hand. Grows three more inches. It's an awkward time. His armor doesn't fit anymore... But his sword reach improves tremendously. This makes him pretty happy.

328: Rollant dies during the siege of Abat-Charn. Jason holds up well while there is still fighting to be had... but after the city is won, Jason largely goes into seclusion, only coming out to speak with the war councils. Only a select few are ever allowed to call on him during this time.

329: Remained behind as the main force moved onward with the intention to follow. The city would be attacked not long after. Several groups were sent out in an effort to retrieve aid by turning the army back around. The commanding general of the remaining forces insisted Jason leave with one of these groups to protect him should the city fall before the army arrived. Jason had Elijah and Rhaegar leave ahead of him and would ride with another group and his guard. Elijah and Rhaegar's group made it... Jason's was intercepted. He watched as the men were cut down one by one in front of him. He was recognized and captured, taken to a Zakkish prison in the city where he was tortured. He would fall ill during this time, but his captives nursed him back to health only to resume his torture. All told, he would remain in their dungeons for twenty days. He stopped counting after fifteen. Jason was rescued during the second siege of Abat-Charn by Elijah and Rhaegar. He would spend the rest of the year recovering from his injuries.

330: Jason is called home. Most of his physical injuries have healed, but it is clear to many that the prince returns a changed person.

Jackson Lathalan - personal bodyguard

Domingo Saltreas - squire
Varric Lloyd-Darnby - squire
Saul Tranton - squire

Henrique Tethras - valet

Rhaegar Vayth - guard, adviser, friend
Elijah Vaughn - guard, adviser, friend

Writing Sample:

-Day 1-

Time came in flashes. He was aware of very little around him. Far-away voices. Distant screams and cries. The clash of metal seemed to have faded. There was a battle. Somewhere. he was sure that's what he'd been doing before. His fingers flexed as if trying to see if he still held his sword. It was gone. With that realization came the hurried heartbeat... The feeling as if his chest was being filled with cold water. His legs would twitch and then the pain would be too much. Time went away.

Hours gone. Maybe dusk? Maybe later than that. The screams weren't so loud here. Where was here? Where was he? And where was his brother? He'd seen him go off and then... he just wasn't there anymore. He kept trying to fill the holes of his memory. Trying to retrace the steps Rollant took before he simply vanished. Something was missing. Wasn't right. Where the hells was he? Where was his damned sword. He turned his wrist and felt a harsh tug on his skin... Pulling. Ripping. Stinging... Warmth gushed over the knuckle of his thumb, racing down to the tip of his nail. He swallowed... Tried to. His throat was on fire. Everything was on fire. He remembered the orange glow. The heat... "Roll... Rollant..." he choked.

-Day 8-

He was sure it'd been over a week. When he woke, he'd asked how long he'd been held. "Three days lost," they'd told him. He hadn't known what they'd meant by that at the time. But he was sure to learn later. He kept track of the days on his fingers... What was a few more cuts? A few more scars? He chewed his fingernail to a point to be able to make the marks... the lines that tallied the rising of the sun each morning. Once or twice he'd had to make up for a missed sunrise. After all... three days had been lost. The Zakkish had plenty of torture to make up for.

-Day 11-

Would they even come for him? He tilted his head back against the stone, feeling the rough texture against his scalp. His breaths were heavy... His entire body shivering and convulsing from the cold. To think of how only a few weeks before he'd been complaining about the dry heat of the sands... What he wouldn't give to feel that heat again. How was it so damned cold? He closed his eyes. A few days ago, he'd have prayed. He didn't see the point now. The gods had forgotten about him in this place. The gods had forgotten about everybody in this place. He shifted, the chains around his ankles clattering on the hard floor, rusted metal cutting into his ankle. The cut had turned to poison... It was why he shivered now. The sweat mingled with the muck and the dirt, the blood and the excrement... They hadn't tortured him for a few hours now. Probably realized that he was dying. Why bother with a dead man?

-Day 14-

He wasn't dead. Gods, why wasn't he dead? He wanted to be. He prayed for it. Pleaded with them for it. For release. To be sent to any place but here. But they didn't listen. Didn't oblige. They kept him alive if for no other reason than to torture him over again. The fever had broken. They'd fed him. Washed him. Cleaned his wounds. And at first he thought that perhaps the ransom had been paid. That they wanted to make it seem like they hadn't tortured him. But, that hope fled when they brought the whips again.

They usually tied him to a wooden stake. Cheek flat against the coarse wood. Arms chained around it. Stomach pressed into it in such a way that when he jolted from the strike, the splinters would bury into his skin. He began to look forward to that, actually. The splinters, that is, not the whips. At least pulling them out gave him something to do when he sat alone in his cell. The lashes never got easier, though. He'd been lashed before... But it was endless. Did he have any skin left on his back for them to mutilate? Maybe not. it would explain why they stopped with the whips and went to the heated iron. Not just his back... Even after they finished for the day, they set the hot iron against him as he was being taken back to his cell. He turned to knock it away and they tackled him to the ground, making the burns hurt all the more. The smell of burning flesh was never one you forgot, but somehow it was a lot harder to stomach when it was your own flesh that smelled... He had nothing in his stomach, but that didn't stop him from throwing up after they'd thrown him back into his cell.

-Day ??-

"You might as well kill me," Jason had said. "I've nothing for you."

But they didn't kill him. He stopped counting the days. There was no point. He was going to die here, with any luck. He was huddled in a corner. They hadn't chained him up after the last beating. There'd be no point to that either. Even if they'd left the door wide open, he wouldn't have the strength to get up and even think about fleeing. That he couldn't even get his legs to cooperate was almost more frustrating than not being able to understand why they were keeping him alive. The last few days, a man, the same man, kept coming into his room, demanding something from him. Jason would shake his head, trying to communicate to him that he had no idea what he was saying. The man must have figured Jason was telling him 'no.' It wasn't until he spoke and said what he said that realization dawned on him. He didn't see the man again after that.

Come to think of it, he hadn't seen anybody for a while. He hadn't even heard them. There was a hum from the window. Perhaps the wind. But aside from that, nothing. A sick sort of silence. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could try to get a few moments of rest. He turned a bit more into the floor, lifting his hand to cover his face and tried to remember a different time.

Golden hair... A bright smile. Laughter all around. Rollant had pushed him into the fountain. Jyzene's eyes were glassy, old tears hanging from long lashes, but she grinned so whatever had upset her was already forgotten. Valencia was still sitting cross-armed on a stone bench nearby, kicking her feet back and forth and sighing dramatically so that one of them would pay her some attention. James was standing between his two brothers to keep Jason from flying at Rollant. But there was no real anger. No real desire to hurt. Just brothers playing. siblings enjoying each other's company.

A warm bed chamber. Small hands clasped around his arms. Cold cheeks that could be felt through his sleeves. Bright eyes that reminding him so much of James staring up at him. Admiration painted clearly on their expressions. It pained him to leave them. He wasn't so close to them as Rollant, Valencia, and especially Jyzene, but he was no less protective. No less loving. He bent to kiss them on the tops of their heads. He would give proper farewells in the morning. He didn't want to say good-bye now. It would make it real. Too real.

"By the gods..."

Jason's eyes fluttered open. Another dream. A familiar voice. The sound of somebody falling to their knees made him jump and the touch of hands on his arm had him retreating against the wall. "No... No!" he begged, his voice soft and scratchy.

"Jason... It's... It's all right. It's me. It's Elijah."

He relaxed. It was either real or it wasn't. A release either way. A rescue or a sweet dream. "Elijah... Is it... Is it over?" Jason asked, his hand reaching out to grab his friend's.

"It is. It's over now. We're going to get you out of here." Elijah looked down at the hand. Blood and grime and a still-blistered burn. How would he hold his hand without causing him pain? He cast his gaze back, over his shoulder to look at Rhaegar. Jason didn't see him.

"Good," he sighed, touching his forehead to the ground. "I prayed... I prayed you'd come..." It was over. One way or another. Nothing else mattered. Well... except one thing. "Where… Where's Rollant? I knew... I knew he wouldn't forget about me... Tell that bastard... that I'm pissed off at him... for taking so damned long..." Jason managed a bit of a smirk before closing his eyes and giving into the dreams once more. It was good that he did. Elijah did not have it in his heart to remind him that Rollant was dead. That he'd been dead for a year. No, now was the time for dreams. Not for harsh truths. It would seem he'd had enough of those as it was.
The Oracles is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 11-19-2015, 09:22 PM   #2
(The Goddamn) Batman
The Dark Cookie
Batman's Avatar
Join Date: Nov 2012
Location: Gotham
Posts: 108
My Mood:
Mentioned: 102 Post(s)
Tagged: 6 Thread(s)

330 - Rhaegar becomes sworn sword.
Elijah becomes Lord of the Chamber.
Jayme Ascalon is named Lord of the Chamber.

1.331- Domingo Saltreas dies of the fever that swept through Tal Volorro. Jason falls victim to the fever but recovers soon after.

3.331 - Jason embarks on the kingdom progress with the king's court. Jason's former mentor, Ryan Seyfert (having gone mad), is killed in a fire.

4.331 - He is wounded during a hunt after an unfortunate encounter with a boar. (You should see the boar). Henrique Tethis dies in a bandit attack in Westridge. Jayme Ascalon is executed for refusing a direct order from the prince.
Batman is offline   Reply With Quote

jason vellfyre
Thread Tools
Display Modes

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off

Forum Jump

All times are GMT -5. The time now is 04:46 AM.

Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.5
Copyright ©2000 - 2018, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd.