Eternalsinger
New Member
Name: Vincent Sheridan
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Looks: Vince (3 links- V, in, ce - until I can figure out a few more)
Personality: Vincent is not your typical prince. He is introverted, someone who enjoys exploring the woods after nightfall alone instead of attending any of the lavish balls that are thrown in the castle. Despite being the oldest of his siblings, he doesn't want the throne; he would rather have his younger brother, Antonio, take the crown because he believes that his sibling would be a better ruler. His parents would describe him as rebellious; he rarely attends his lessons, and is more often trying to sneak out of the castle gates than anything else.
Relationships:
Mother- Lucille Sheridan, 42, not very close, but still friendly
Father- Marcus Sheridan, 45, slightly bitter for forcing him to act as a prince, but admires him as a king and a father
Brother- Antonio Sheridan, 14, very close and dear to Vincent (who tries to act as a good role model and keeps him out of trouble; basically, trying to turn him into everything Vince is not)
Sister- Vanessa Sheridan, almost 17, kind of a love-hate relationship, but they are close and friendly overall
Friend- Alexander Blakesley, 21, knight who acts as Vincent's sparring partner and confidant, they've been friends since the royal family took him in as a squire at a young age
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Clash of metal, sword on sword. Each blow rang in the air like a triumphant shout as the battle raged on. Circling his opponent, neither side was willing to surrender. A knight never lowers his sword unless forced to yield, and neither intended on losing. The blades crossed again, the momentum of the collision nearly knocking the young male off balance. But still he held firm, his dark eyes set upon his adversary.
Stepping back again, the two continued their pattern of pouncing and stalking, like rival panthers slinking through the undergrowth of a steamy jungle, glaring with pearly fangs bared. Too focused on winning was the younger opponent that he took no heed of his surroundings. His opponent slashed out swiftly, missing by an inch as the target ducked away. He struck out in response, but was met by no more success than the attack aimed at himself.
"You shall not win. Give up now while you still have the chance." "Are you so sure?"
Their dance of stabs and clashes trudged onward for a while longer, a few blows hitting while others were unable to cut nothing but the wind. Sweat beaded their faces beneath their helmets, and breaths became the panting gasps of an exhausted stallion. One blow fell close to the handle, jarring the weapon from the younger opponent's hands. Unarmed, he ducked and scrambled to recover his lost sword, but all for naught.
Only when his back met the rough bark of a tree did the beaten lad cease fighting. He tried to calm his breathing, lest he pierce his own heart upon the dull blade that threatened him. The victor grinned at him, his dark eyes glinting with a triumphant light. "That makes three times."
"Well, when you're a prince," Vincent responded wearily, retrieving his sword. "You're not free to train the day away like you do." Alexander chuckled at this, sheathing his sword. "You could, with how often you skip your lessons. Your father is going to hide your sword again if you're not careful." "Then I'll just find another one to use. Who cares for those foolish lessons anyhow? What good do they do anyone?"
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Looks: Vince (3 links- V, in, ce - until I can figure out a few more)
Personality: Vincent is not your typical prince. He is introverted, someone who enjoys exploring the woods after nightfall alone instead of attending any of the lavish balls that are thrown in the castle. Despite being the oldest of his siblings, he doesn't want the throne; he would rather have his younger brother, Antonio, take the crown because he believes that his sibling would be a better ruler. His parents would describe him as rebellious; he rarely attends his lessons, and is more often trying to sneak out of the castle gates than anything else.
Relationships:
Mother- Lucille Sheridan, 42, not very close, but still friendly
Father- Marcus Sheridan, 45, slightly bitter for forcing him to act as a prince, but admires him as a king and a father
Brother- Antonio Sheridan, 14, very close and dear to Vincent (who tries to act as a good role model and keeps him out of trouble; basically, trying to turn him into everything Vince is not)
Sister- Vanessa Sheridan, almost 17, kind of a love-hate relationship, but they are close and friendly overall
Friend- Alexander Blakesley, 21, knight who acts as Vincent's sparring partner and confidant, they've been friends since the royal family took him in as a squire at a young age
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Clash of metal, sword on sword. Each blow rang in the air like a triumphant shout as the battle raged on. Circling his opponent, neither side was willing to surrender. A knight never lowers his sword unless forced to yield, and neither intended on losing. The blades crossed again, the momentum of the collision nearly knocking the young male off balance. But still he held firm, his dark eyes set upon his adversary.
Stepping back again, the two continued their pattern of pouncing and stalking, like rival panthers slinking through the undergrowth of a steamy jungle, glaring with pearly fangs bared. Too focused on winning was the younger opponent that he took no heed of his surroundings. His opponent slashed out swiftly, missing by an inch as the target ducked away. He struck out in response, but was met by no more success than the attack aimed at himself.
"You shall not win. Give up now while you still have the chance." "Are you so sure?"
Their dance of stabs and clashes trudged onward for a while longer, a few blows hitting while others were unable to cut nothing but the wind. Sweat beaded their faces beneath their helmets, and breaths became the panting gasps of an exhausted stallion. One blow fell close to the handle, jarring the weapon from the younger opponent's hands. Unarmed, he ducked and scrambled to recover his lost sword, but all for naught.
Only when his back met the rough bark of a tree did the beaten lad cease fighting. He tried to calm his breathing, lest he pierce his own heart upon the dull blade that threatened him. The victor grinned at him, his dark eyes glinting with a triumphant light. "That makes three times."
"Well, when you're a prince," Vincent responded wearily, retrieving his sword. "You're not free to train the day away like you do." Alexander chuckled at this, sheathing his sword. "You could, with how often you skip your lessons. Your father is going to hide your sword again if you're not careful." "Then I'll just find another one to use. Who cares for those foolish lessons anyhow? What good do they do anyone?"