Appearance

"I am tired. I would like to be a mountain, a tree, a stone."
- Susan Sontag, from I, etcetera: Stories

Campion.
Middle English for 'champion'. A small wildflower.
Known as: Camp, Fortress, Warden of the Isles, Hart of the Islet.
Male (he/him/his).
Voice.

Built on a sinewy and taut base, there’s little to no room for anything but muscle on and within the stallion’s frame. He is by no means a horse lacking in stimulation and instead thrives on physical exertion, whatever that may be. The fur of his coat consists of various hues of red and brown, and most closely resembles a blood bay; a deep sunset against a burned sky. Lighter tones of said colors can be found over his shoulders and around his face, though otherwise the hues fade to darker shades throughout his body. At any given time the lighting present may easily play off and with the tones, creating either darker, lighter, or even different colored tinges over his fur. Needless to say, he retains a rather sleek look overall.

Campion stands at 17.1hh and though on the taller side, his build itself appears quite evenly placed all around. Perhaps one of the more identifiable features of his are his eyes which consist of a sea-green tone within them. Facial features are a kind mix between hard and soft, and mostly appears with an open and welcome demeanor as much as possible. During times of intense emotion, one of the green or blue shades of his irises may appear more dominant than the other; although it’s incredibly subtle and hard to spot. An otherwise unkempt mane and tail drift from a dark brown to a lighter tone the closer to the ends the color trails down. His mane is quite long, wavy, braided and knotted in random areas and his tail remains untouched. Around his shoulders and detached from the otherwise solid appearance that is his body, but may be mistaken as such anyway, is a crown of antlers fastened and clasped together. Though heavy, it does not seem to hinder him very much, but it is rare to see him without them.

Personality

"Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier;
I have seen worse sights than this."
- Donna Tartt, The Secret History

Hardened by life's trials, Campion is far-off from who he used to be. Before, he'd been a stallion of honor and vigilance, steadfast and confident. But with the loss of home upon home, he has lost the will to fight that which he believes to be the finality of things. He has lost the will to fight and to live and thus has lost himself. Deep down, he knows this, but has not the will nor the desire to fight it any longer. He has delved down a hard and dark path with this new ideology within him, and it seems impossible that one might simply bring him out of it. Imposed by a deep sense of self-loathing for everything that's happened in his life, Campion instead feeds on the scraps of self-pity and has no longer thought on or attempted the steps of improvement to better his life, not when it appears to be for naught in the end.

It is in this that his worse traits have come to the surface. In hating himself he starts to hate the world around him; in feeling a bitterness for his past wrongs and for that which has destroyed his homes, he has then set that bitterness upon the world and the individuals around him, in his life. Where he once might have never thought to let them down he now has such little expectation of himself and an impossibility to prevent the unpreventable, he has given up on himself and ever helping them achieve what he has come to believe to be peace - a distant and small word in the face of a looming, forever-darkness.

To make up for all his wrongdoings in life, he has embraced that which he swore to fight upon the cliff of an oceanside, a promise and mutual understanding.

Deep down there still remains that light of his old self. Chivalrous, robust, hard-headed and stubborn. A fighter and a Warden of a long-ago Isle; the titles weight him down to the earth, if only someone might look past his scarred and bruised exterior and show him once more hope and a reason to rise.

A reason to fight.

History

"The only wisdom is to be aware that there’s something uncontrolled inside us and that at any moment it could explode."
- Susanna Tamaro, from Listen to My Voice (Harvill Secker, 2008)
Nordlys Campion's story reaches far back, in a world before worlds, on the cusp of new beginnings and alliances. The Snatchers, as they were so called, were faceless beasts that had just torn down the last of the leaders of the herds that made up the expanse of Nordlys. Dirtharest, Eventide, Grimnodas, with Morthalion the capital of which he was born and lived. Under the reign of King Hessander IV, a rare hyndergriff and head of the capital, was where he thrived and would call the bustling city home - all busy streets, cobblestone walkways and brick archways and houses - before he could even speak the word.

In the beginning of Campion's life there settled a reservation of himself even as a young child. His household and family were not particularly one way or the other; instead they were completely ordinary in how they raised their only child, none too strict nor too lenient in showing him about the world, societal normalities and the like. There stemmed a firm grasp on rules and courtesies that followed him through his life, and an intent to please and to invoke pride in his parents for him and what he was gaining from them in tangible form. His confidence flourished in this, although what he did by learning and listening there fell his desire to create many friends. He had been so strict on himself that this desire had run dry, and though he didn't feel like it'd offer him much, it did prove to invoke a loneliness in him he couldn't have understood until he'd grown a bit more and branched out, become more independent and singular.

Much of his dreams, things he hoped to be, stemmed from the stories told of history or legends, of times long-passed but made immortal through word of mouth. He'd become someone with a nose in books and a wanderlust heart with a penchant for action, adventure, and experiences. Experiences he wouldn't receive stuck in a city but rather out in the actual world, where things appeared far more interesting than he could ever imagine.

At some point, as he grew, the opportunities rose for him to reach out past Morthalion's borders. As a young adult he'd become a warrior under Morthalion's authority, although still with that longing for something more.

On a fateful day, the citizens of Morthalion gathered round King Hessander IV as a small, fretful pygmy dragon flew the letter, news of the defeat of the last standing leader of the herds of Nordlys, to his hold. He'd read aloud this news, and the Queen of the seas had returned her own rebuff and speech to him. It'd been precarious, but one thing was certain: new leaders had to be chosen to push back the threat of the Snatchers and to regain hold of their world lest it be taken over by chaos and destruction.

Sovereign Now, he enters Sovereign from aboard a ship taken in hopes of finding Aelin once more among the mass and confusion; bearing down upon himself the weight of loss and, for the first time he can remember feeling, a sadness unlike anything he can properly place or describe.

Edana ...

Uncharted ...

Sorcery

"There must be those among whom we can sit down and weep and still be counted as warriors."
- Adrienne Rich

Campion possesses no Sorcery.

Other

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Credits

Profile coded by Rayoflight.