Post by Marver Mold on Aug 26, 2014 0:45:04 GMT -5
Name: Marver "Marv" Mold
Age: 27; born on December 3rd
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Pansexual
Special Talent: Glassblowing, either by free-blowing or mold-blowing.
Career: Works to sell his pre-made trinkets to the locals of wherever he happens to be residing, taking custom commissions from them as he goes. Whether or not he has an established shop/studio is completely up to the discretion of the mods.
Race: Bat pony
Age: 27; born on December 3rd
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Pansexual
Special Talent: Glassblowing, either by free-blowing or mold-blowing.
Career: Works to sell his pre-made trinkets to the locals of wherever he happens to be residing, taking custom commissions from them as he goes. Whether or not he has an established shop/studio is completely up to the discretion of the mods.
Race: Bat pony
Appearance
Height: 5'0" (around 6'2" as a human equivalent)
Body Type: A funny mix of stocky and lanky; unusually so, for a stallion of his kind. Back home, he often found himself envious of his sleeker, more graceful peers.
Mane Color: Dusty gray.
Eye Color: A muted yellow. The same shade highlights his cutie mark.
Coat color: Muddy brown. Not very practical for nightly flights, but worked well as camouflage in the mountain caverns of his hometown.
Markings: None.
Additional:
The only things that set him apart from the primary races of Equestria are his racial features, being his leathery wings, sharper teeth and fluffy ears. All things considered, he's pretty dull.
General Appearance: Taller and much less refined than most, Marv tends to seem more than a little bit intimidating -- which isn't helped by the seemingly-permanent scowl that he has etched onto his face. Unlike most of his kin, with their shiny black coats and compact bodies, Marver is a teeter-tottering form of chicken legs and drab colors, a fact that he hasn't come to terms with in all his twenty-seven years. Still, he does his best to take care of himself, washing his coat and mane often and making sure that, despite it being relatively long, it never grows too shaggy or unkempt.
Body Type: A funny mix of stocky and lanky; unusually so, for a stallion of his kind. Back home, he often found himself envious of his sleeker, more graceful peers.
Mane Color: Dusty gray.
Eye Color: A muted yellow. The same shade highlights his cutie mark.
Coat color: Muddy brown. Not very practical for nightly flights, but worked well as camouflage in the mountain caverns of his hometown.
Markings: None.
Additional:
The only things that set him apart from the primary races of Equestria are his racial features, being his leathery wings, sharper teeth and fluffy ears. All things considered, he's pretty dull.
General Appearance: Taller and much less refined than most, Marv tends to seem more than a little bit intimidating -- which isn't helped by the seemingly-permanent scowl that he has etched onto his face. Unlike most of his kin, with their shiny black coats and compact bodies, Marver is a teeter-tottering form of chicken legs and drab colors, a fact that he hasn't come to terms with in all his twenty-seven years. Still, he does his best to take care of himself, washing his coat and mane often and making sure that, despite it being relatively long, it never grows too shaggy or unkempt.
Personality
Likes:
Warm seasons, hot baths, finishing a project, pleasing his customers, giving a piece his all and tiring himself out, spicy foods, things that remind him of his childhood, the idea of eventually settling down with someone special, emotional/fiscal security
Dislikes:
Nosy ponies, assumptions that he's some kind of vampire, folks who would hurt foals or animals, ponies who talk behind the backs of their friends, being surprised
Strengths:
Creativity, foresight, and ambition. Constantly strives to do his best, even if it means pushing himself past his limits.
Weaknesses:
Physical and emotional clumsiness, a terse and insensitive personality, and a general lack of any kind of self-imposed thresholds. He doesn't know when to stop, both in front of the furnace and in the presence of other ponies. He's blunt and stubborn, which has led to the downfall of more than one potential friendship or business opportunity.
Fears:
Losing friendships, losing his family, somehow losing his ability to work, unintentionally hurting others.
General Personality: With a temper as hot as hot as the molten glass on the end of his blowpipe, it's no wonder that Marv has led most of his life surrounded by few friends outside the ones who he was fortunate enough to grow up with. This isn't something that he takes pride in -- he's naturally averse to solitude, and tends to enjoy making new acquaintances as he comes across them.
Unfortunately, he isn't very good at setting up new relationships.
Despite the rough exterior and searing lack of patience, Marver genuinely dislikes seeing his friends feeling down -- and can be surprisingly gentle and supportive when they need it the most. He gives what he gets, and those who give him their trust and honest companionship can expect to have a loyal, albeit stupidly stubborn and gawky, friend to pal around with for however long they'd like. At the very least, he's always willing to lend an ear or a shoulder to those who aren't having the best of times, and would do anything he could to protect his loved ones from both their own personal lives and the world around them.
Warm seasons, hot baths, finishing a project, pleasing his customers, giving a piece his all and tiring himself out, spicy foods, things that remind him of his childhood, the idea of eventually settling down with someone special, emotional/fiscal security
Dislikes:
Nosy ponies, assumptions that he's some kind of vampire, folks who would hurt foals or animals, ponies who talk behind the backs of their friends, being surprised
Strengths:
Creativity, foresight, and ambition. Constantly strives to do his best, even if it means pushing himself past his limits.
Weaknesses:
Physical and emotional clumsiness, a terse and insensitive personality, and a general lack of any kind of self-imposed thresholds. He doesn't know when to stop, both in front of the furnace and in the presence of other ponies. He's blunt and stubborn, which has led to the downfall of more than one potential friendship or business opportunity.
Fears:
Losing friendships, losing his family, somehow losing his ability to work, unintentionally hurting others.
General Personality: With a temper as hot as hot as the molten glass on the end of his blowpipe, it's no wonder that Marv has led most of his life surrounded by few friends outside the ones who he was fortunate enough to grow up with. This isn't something that he takes pride in -- he's naturally averse to solitude, and tends to enjoy making new acquaintances as he comes across them.
Unfortunately, he isn't very good at setting up new relationships.
Despite the rough exterior and searing lack of patience, Marver genuinely dislikes seeing his friends feeling down -- and can be surprisingly gentle and supportive when they need it the most. He gives what he gets, and those who give him their trust and honest companionship can expect to have a loyal, albeit stupidly stubborn and gawky, friend to pal around with for however long they'd like. At the very least, he's always willing to lend an ear or a shoulder to those who aren't having the best of times, and would do anything he could to protect his loved ones from both their own personal lives and the world around them.
History
Father: Tourmaline, 57; works as a miner of precious stones and mineral deposits. Still living back at the mountain roost where Marver had been born.
Mother:
Parchoffi, 59; a retired glassmith, and the one who'd initially taught Marver just about everything that he knows. Lives with her current husband, Tailwind; a pegasus of the same age.
Siblings: None; Marver's parents separated before any siblings could be created, and Parchoffi didn't meet her current spouse until she was too old to safely carry another foal.
Other: N/A
History: Marv was born on a cold winter morning to a Missus Parchoffi, bat pony mare and professional glassmith. A go-getter with an attitude playfully fiery enough to rival the one that her son would come to have, she spent every drop of energy that she had to instill a sense of confidence in little Marv from day one; even though she was sure that words of encouragement meant very little to a newborn foal.
His father, a struggling miner who'd worked in the guts of the mountain that their flock had made a settlement on, was less enthusiastic about the new arrival. Though he loved Marver and wished the best for him, his relationship with Parchoffi faltered after his birth; her deep love for their foal clashing with his fear of commitment and irrationality. Parchoffi, eventually becoming fed up with her two-year husband's sudden case of cold feet, made a mutual agreement to separate eight months after Marver's birth.
With her son and her tools, Parchoffi fled the dusty range that she'd called home for what she thought had been far too long. Eventually settling down in a little town in northwestern Equestria, the mare worked as hard as she could to provide a comfortable living for herself and her young colt. Life was far from perfect, but the love that she harbored for her son and her career kept the both of them afloat through thick and thin. To this day, Marver has very fond memories of his childhood, and is extremely grateful to his mother for being as strong as she was through it all.
Marv paid several visits to the settlement as a foal -- usually arranged by his mother, and chaperoned by his father once he'd gotten there. Their relationship was strained at best, but they tolerated one another up until Marv reached his early teens. One particular trip and a few callous words from his father sent their relationship crumbling, causing the both of them to cease contact for a number of years. Though they began speaking again once Marv had become an adult, the both of them are still very guarded around one another, and have no conventional father-son relationship to speak of.
More likely than not a result of watching his mother spin wonderful shapes out of molten glass since he was too tiny to see over her workbench, Marver eventually ended up taking an interest in glassblowing. He earned his cutie mark upon working through the night to create his first serious piece -- a gradient glass vase -- and never looked back. More than a decade later, he still keeps that vase on his mantle, letting it serve as a reminder of how far he's come since the very beginning of his journey.
After a particularly bad breakup and business deal gone awry mixed together to put one heck of a sour taste in his mouth, Marver began making plans to pick up his supplies and set up shop in another town. It meant leaving behind the only real family that he'd ever known, but Parchoffi understood, and was more than happy to see her little guy leave the nest. At twenty-two, Marver began moving southeast across the Equestrian map, ping-ponging from various cities before finally settling down at his current residence. Close to two large trade cities, but far enough away to be quiet and peaceful, Marver has finally found a place that he's comfortable with calling home.
Mother:
Parchoffi, 59; a retired glassmith, and the one who'd initially taught Marver just about everything that he knows. Lives with her current husband, Tailwind; a pegasus of the same age.
Siblings: None; Marver's parents separated before any siblings could be created, and Parchoffi didn't meet her current spouse until she was too old to safely carry another foal.
Other: N/A
History: Marv was born on a cold winter morning to a Missus Parchoffi, bat pony mare and professional glassmith. A go-getter with an attitude playfully fiery enough to rival the one that her son would come to have, she spent every drop of energy that she had to instill a sense of confidence in little Marv from day one; even though she was sure that words of encouragement meant very little to a newborn foal.
His father, a struggling miner who'd worked in the guts of the mountain that their flock had made a settlement on, was less enthusiastic about the new arrival. Though he loved Marver and wished the best for him, his relationship with Parchoffi faltered after his birth; her deep love for their foal clashing with his fear of commitment and irrationality. Parchoffi, eventually becoming fed up with her two-year husband's sudden case of cold feet, made a mutual agreement to separate eight months after Marver's birth.
With her son and her tools, Parchoffi fled the dusty range that she'd called home for what she thought had been far too long. Eventually settling down in a little town in northwestern Equestria, the mare worked as hard as she could to provide a comfortable living for herself and her young colt. Life was far from perfect, but the love that she harbored for her son and her career kept the both of them afloat through thick and thin. To this day, Marver has very fond memories of his childhood, and is extremely grateful to his mother for being as strong as she was through it all.
Marv paid several visits to the settlement as a foal -- usually arranged by his mother, and chaperoned by his father once he'd gotten there. Their relationship was strained at best, but they tolerated one another up until Marv reached his early teens. One particular trip and a few callous words from his father sent their relationship crumbling, causing the both of them to cease contact for a number of years. Though they began speaking again once Marv had become an adult, the both of them are still very guarded around one another, and have no conventional father-son relationship to speak of.
More likely than not a result of watching his mother spin wonderful shapes out of molten glass since he was too tiny to see over her workbench, Marver eventually ended up taking an interest in glassblowing. He earned his cutie mark upon working through the night to create his first serious piece -- a gradient glass vase -- and never looked back. More than a decade later, he still keeps that vase on his mantle, letting it serve as a reminder of how far he's come since the very beginning of his journey.
After a particularly bad breakup and business deal gone awry mixed together to put one heck of a sour taste in his mouth, Marver began making plans to pick up his supplies and set up shop in another town. It meant leaving behind the only real family that he'd ever known, but Parchoffi understood, and was more than happy to see her little guy leave the nest. At twenty-two, Marver began moving southeast across the Equestrian map, ping-ponging from various cities before finally settling down at his current residence. Close to two large trade cities, but far enough away to be quiet and peaceful, Marver has finally found a place that he's comfortable with calling home.
Out Of Character
Name: Meoln! You probably know me better as the mun of ask-flowerbud over on tumblr. <:
Roleplay Sample:
Dip, blow, roll. Dip, blow, roll. Dip, blow -- of course, he had to drop the blowpipe. With something between a cough and a huff, Marver moved to place the metal stick between his forehooves against the lip of a bucket, letting the tip of the pipe sizzle out and cool. Prying his apron up and off from the base of his neck, he sighed, gingerly hooking it onto a wall support next to the room's exit. Chalk it up to another failed experiment, he thought, clip-clopping down the hall that lead out from the furnace room and into the den of his actual home.
Shutting the door with a kick of his back leg, the stallion sighed. He needed a bath. And something to eat. And, if the sun hadn't already come up, a couple hours of sleep.
A quick glance at the cuckoo clock on the wall let him know that he still had time; it was four in the morning, but considering his recent track record, that wasn't too bad. His journey through the family room and hallway stopped once he reached the kitchen, taking a second to clean off his forehooves before making a dive for the fridge.
That changed, however, when there came a startlingly loud noise from the hall. Someone was knocking on the door. At four in the morning. Who in the world?
Trepidation built as he moved closer to his goal, ears pressed flat against his scalp in something between fear and annoyance. A quick look through the peep hole didn't tell him much, as his guest was hidden by the darkness of the early morning -- but he could at least see that they were small, and not some gigantic, lumbering monster. With a good amount of hesitation, he unlatched the lock and moved to crack the door, chain still in place in case his visitor wasn't there on friendly grounds.
"It's four in the morning. What do you want?" he whispered, quiet despite not having anyone around to hear. Crinkling his nose, he narrowed his eyes at the figure on the cement stoop in front of the door, waiting for some kind of response before letting them in.
Roleplay Sample:
Dip, blow, roll. Dip, blow, roll. Dip, blow -- of course, he had to drop the blowpipe. With something between a cough and a huff, Marver moved to place the metal stick between his forehooves against the lip of a bucket, letting the tip of the pipe sizzle out and cool. Prying his apron up and off from the base of his neck, he sighed, gingerly hooking it onto a wall support next to the room's exit. Chalk it up to another failed experiment, he thought, clip-clopping down the hall that lead out from the furnace room and into the den of his actual home.
Shutting the door with a kick of his back leg, the stallion sighed. He needed a bath. And something to eat. And, if the sun hadn't already come up, a couple hours of sleep.
A quick glance at the cuckoo clock on the wall let him know that he still had time; it was four in the morning, but considering his recent track record, that wasn't too bad. His journey through the family room and hallway stopped once he reached the kitchen, taking a second to clean off his forehooves before making a dive for the fridge.
That changed, however, when there came a startlingly loud noise from the hall. Someone was knocking on the door. At four in the morning. Who in the world?
Trepidation built as he moved closer to his goal, ears pressed flat against his scalp in something between fear and annoyance. A quick look through the peep hole didn't tell him much, as his guest was hidden by the darkness of the early morning -- but he could at least see that they were small, and not some gigantic, lumbering monster. With a good amount of hesitation, he unlatched the lock and moved to crack the door, chain still in place in case his visitor wasn't there on friendly grounds.
"It's four in the morning. What do you want?" he whispered, quiet despite not having anyone around to hear. Crinkling his nose, he narrowed his eyes at the figure on the cement stoop in front of the door, waiting for some kind of response before letting them in.
