Lord Dryden Moore

[drydenmoore]

*The Basics
Full Name: Lord Dryden Thomas Moore, Commander of the 6th
Regiment, Cavalry Division.
NickNames: Generally people will split his name in half and
call him either Dry or Den. He's called Dry especially by his older
brother.

Age: 22
Alliance: Mor’vol


*How It Works
Personality Dryden is more of the man to run into a situation,
throwing punches and weapons around hoping to take out the enemy and
have a good time of it. Very unlike his brother, he will generally act
now, think about it later. He's never gotten the fact of strategy and
plans, he is only desperate to defend his country and its people from
the enemy and meanwhile prove himself in some way or another. He's a
hopeful kind of man, always hoping for the best and often being let
down in such times. He's somewhat stubborn, and will often ignore the
warning from his brother when marching to battle.

Underneath it all, there is a mature man mingling in with Dryden's
witty and 'good time' persona. He just doesn't often like to be
mature, and will often ignore his mother's shrill voice begging/
commanding him to 'grow up'. Dryden's strategy to go by is simply that
life is meant to enjoy, and he intends to.


10 likes
- Some nobles gatherings...ones that don't include giggling
girls at least.
-A challenge, small or great
-A good wine with equal conversation
-Leading his men into battle bravely
-The crisp of the early morning
-Riding
-His kingdom, Mor'vol
-Talking with, wrestling with, laughing with, and teasing his brother
-The danger of close calls
-Calm moments when he can read or sketch in peace (until his mother
comes around)
10 dislikes
-Being woken from sleep
-Being insulted
-Lamora (even more so now)
-When someone either gives him a weak challenge or turns down one of his
- Being called a coward…
-Receiving lectures from his brother
-Sometimes he hates his brother's dog, Gwynn, because she hates him
(it's only fair, in child's terms)
-When his brother or anyone embarrasses him in front of the men of his
regiment
-Cabbage (who doesn't hate it? )
-People telling him to grow up, so he generally tunes them out



Apperance His hair is light brown, a bit longer but not too
long. It is generally tousled a bit on his head, but it only rarely
becomes unkempt (generally when he's been with his brother). His eyes
are a darker blue, and can hold many different lights, for that is
where his emotions are shown he most. He, like his brother, has grown
a slight knight's beard, but it is never too full or too light. His
build is not muscular but he is still strong, able to hold himself
fine (as he has shown when defending himself against his brother). He
has a few cuts and scars here and there from assorted happenings and
from the battlefield.

His clothing is expected to show how high of a rank he holds in the
Mor'vol court. But he doesn't rightly take to the rich clothing. He
generally wears nicely made tunics in blues or crimsons, over long-
sleeved shirts. His slacks are a darker brown, and are tucked into
leather boots. In battle, he wears the rightful uniform as the head of
a regiment, complete with the Mor'vol crest showing proudly on his
chest.
The Back Story
Parents: ]: Lord Gregory Moore (Father) & Lady Evelyn Moore
(Mother) (Sister to the King)

History Lord Dryden Thomas Moore was born in the mid-Spring,
just as the weather is at its most beautiful state. The first face he
recorded in his memory was of his brother, glaring down at him as if
wondering what he was going to do with his new brother. Of course,
that particular memory faded to the back round as Dryden became old
enough to run free, and William instantly dubbed them both comrades.
Dryden always could be found following his brother around, and Will
would always be the one (most annoyingly in Dryden's eyes) to reach
out a hand to stop his younger brother from too much danger for even
them. This most likely is what sparked Dryden's independent attitude,
always wanting to prove to his older brother what he could do.

When Will was eight and Dryden six, the latter was forced to carry on
alone as William began spending half (if not more) of his days
training, learning and doing what young noble boys ought to do. Dryden
would often rub in his older brother's face how he was able to run
free, and would often come back from his lone adventures to greet his
disappointed brother with a new cut or bruise to add to his display.
He laughed at his brother, of course, until he himself was eight and
some rather strong tutor would wrestle him into a high-backed chair
that was too big for him and he would be forced to listen to all of
the lessons put forth to him. Many say he is what caused this tutor to
quit his job on a last minute whim.

Despite growing up, William and Dryden never grew apart as some
siblings do. They remained closest confidants, comrades and battle-
masters, always managing to break out in random bouts of wrestling
that would send their mother into hysterics in case the King of
Mor'vol should witness them. And when William received command of the
5th regiment, Mounted Sword division, Dryden would often flout his
brother's title to random (giggling) noble girls, just to watch his
brother stammer when the girls would crowd around him asking him
countless questions.

When it came time for Dryden to put into command of a regiment of
soldiers, he instantly knew what he was going to choose to lead. His
love of riding and of long-distance weaponry inspired his decision to
become Commander of the 6th Regiment, Cavalry Division. And in his
first battle, unlike Will's first, Dry was so persistent to begin the
fight that he actually led his men in early, much to the surprise of
the enemy, and to anger of his brother and family.

Now at twenty-two, his last battle was the one time that his head-
strong attitude and want for a close call granted him a little more
than he bargained for. Seated upon his horse, he was just realizing
that he was loosing ground and that the Lamorans were defeating his
regiment when he received a blow to the side of his head and the last
thing he heard was the defeated yelling of his men. When he awoke,
expecting nothing more than a hard lecture from his brother, he
received the shock to set him for life, or perhaps to end it... [bit
dramatic, but still true... ]


Pets ] Zara, a rather large chocolate-brown dog he befriended
after Will's dog decided to hate Dryden. ( lhersh.farming.officelive.com/images/sir%20hershey%20of%20surrey.jpg
)


The Master Mind
ooc name Gemma
Anything We need To Know, Or You Would Like To Say Well, one: I suggest you delete the other two member accounts under Dryden’s name that I happened to make, because the validation email wasn’t being sent to my email address, so I got so upset that I made three accounts, the last one with a different email account so it worked… sorry, I have anger issues sometimes. JK!
Sample RP

The wide open fields of Mor'vol, stretching out invitingly- a
blow to his head brought the dungeons back to his mind; The smiling
face of his mother, gently 'begging' for her sons to stop what ever
they were getting up to- another blow collided with his shoulder,
wrenching the darkened scene to replace the visions he was implanting
in his head. It wasn't working, and Dryden was certainly going to
inform Will that his foolish method doesn't help at all!

He could still remember it, when Will pulled him aside before his
first battle. He was eighteen years old, full of compacted energy and
thirst for the thrill of his first fight. Will had commanded him to
stay calm and, if the worst should happen, and he was taken, to
remember one thing: “to take away from the pain when they might
or might not torture you, you must think of memories, good memories.
That will take you to another place, and you won't feel the pain,
therefore not breaking and telling any information the enemy might be
looking for...And one more thing, little brother. Please be careful. I
don't want to have to go after you if you're caught. I'll kill you if
you are.”

This memory caused a slight laugh to escape Dryden's lips, and a voice
brought him back to the present, to the dark and damp of the cell in
which they were trying to break him.

“I can't believe it. He didn't flinch with the hot rod.” A deep
voice said, no doubt belonging to the jailor.
“Well try harder then!” the guard next to him responded. Dryden
found it hard to lift his head, but still managed to loll it back on
his shoulders and look up at the two men standing before him. Whoa,
were they tall!

“N-no need to try hard on my account--” He heard his own
voice, dry and cracked.

“Shut up, filth!” He didn't really feel the blow to his cheek that
sent his head forward again. Heaving a quick humoured sigh, he took a
slow breath.

“You certainly have a strong hand.” He muttered as he
listened to the jailor and the head-guard shift through the room,
obviously looking for more things to strike him with.

He had lost all track of time. He no longer knew if it was just last
week that he had been taken, or if it was years. In the darkness of
the cell around him no light shown, there were distant moans and
callings that you couldn't block from your ears. It was like a tomb,
and it made it that much more ironic to think that it would be one
day...

No, a voice inside him called to him, you mustn't think
that. Think that and giving up isn't far behind! he realized that
the voice was Will's, though he had never even heard Will say that
before. It didn't matter, because he knew his older brother was lying.
"I'll come and get you if ever you're taken. I promise." was
the last parting message William had given him before they rode into
Dryden's first battle.

"Liar." Dryden felt his lips move, heard the word echo around
the room, repeating itself over and over in his ears, as if reminding
him. It was all soon going to be over, and it wouldn't matter anymore...

He was loosing himself, and he knew it.

"Wha's that, filth?" the jailor stepped in front of him again, and
Dryden narrowed his eyes at the boots of the man he could see in the
dirty floor before him. Mustering together all the strength in his
weary limbs, he suddenly lunged forward, sending a powerful punch to
meet with the jailor's jaw. The man gave a quick grunt, falling
backwards and colliding with the floor, just to recieve a few kicks in
the ribs from Dryden Moore before the head-guard staggered forward and
punched Dryden's ribs. After a few more strikes, Dryden fell to the
floor, staring straight ahead into the darkness as the guard roughly
bound his arms anew behind his back.

"This one's gonna be trouble." the guard told the jailor as the man
rubbed at his jaw. Dryden let a faint smirk cross his lips.

"Not for long yet, trust me." the jailor responded bitterly. And all
there knew it was true...

"I'll come and get you if you're ever taken. Promise." Will's
voice repeated inside his mind. He closed his eyes....

The wide open fields of Mor'vol, stretching out invitingly...



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