Nerva Kanabe Evandrus

[Nerva Kanabe Evandrus]

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Nerva ‘Kanabe' Evandrus

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IMAGE OF CHARACTER

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Identity Chart

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†Name: Kanabi Nerva Evandrus [ sometimes called by any of these names, but Kanabi was a nickname given to him]

†Age: 36

†Appearance Age: 35+

†Race: Imperial

† Sexual Orientation Straight

†Gender: Male

†Birth Sign: Warrior

†Hair Color: Dark brown, but has faded over time, now it remains a lighter brown color.

†Eye Color: Brown

†Height: 6’1

†Weight: 190lbs

†Skin Tone: Fair

†Appearance:
He is a tall man with a lightly toned body, not over nor under weight, he wears his hair about mid back length, it has a natural wavy body to it or tends to be tangled never really hanging straight down , its parted down the middle, once kept short, now long, as once it was a darker brown it has gotten to be a light brown color, not really any gray hair yet, but most can assume it will continue to get a lighter brown as he ages. The gray if any seems to blend in. he also has brown eyes, and light facial on his chin sometimes grows out, but is never grows to long before he shaves.

He can be seen wearing almost anything, though he hasn’t worn any kind of heavy armor in a few years, he sticks to leather or chain mail over anything else and normally chooses to wear the lighter stuff under his robes , sometimes these robes are white and open in the front, with darker pants, or other color loose fitting robes, often with black light armor or undershirt seen though the open front, a katana normally strapped outside or sometimes under his coat. often he is also seen wearing a long scarf wrapped gently around his shoulders, and only seems to weir braided sandals, unless something calls for boots, like the weather, etc.

†Guild: Fighters Guild: Guardian, Imperial Legionnaire.

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Taste

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†Likes:
~Quiet
~Seeing inner Strength in others
~Rice
~Animals
~Traveling
~Freedom
~Honor
~Reading
~A good battle
~A good drink
~respect

†Dislikes:
~Obnoxiousness
~Liars
~Deadra
~Murders
~Honor less people
~Drunks
~ Some guards
~Disrespect [to anyone]

†Fears:
~getting old-er
~failing if he decides to protect someone or thing.
~old faces of those he has had to kill or take away.

†Nervous Habits:
~drumming fingers
~sitting silently
~pacing

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For The Record

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†Personality:
At first he may come across as rude or uncaring, it isn’t the fact, however he dislikes to get involved with others when he can see that is better if he stays out of someone else’s busyness. He is a older man, with age comes wisdom, something he is not lacking in the least bit. When he seems to have nothing on his mind, he is thinking up plans and strategy. Quick to strike but also quick to defend. He puts up with a lot, unless you really get under his skin, he will either grow to like you or ignore you completely, his respect and trust has to be earned.

He holds himself strong, for he is, and not weak but only for what he can handle he likes to wonder the lands searching for something others don’t seem to understand at all. But he also has a kind side that might make him weak to some, but he cares less about physical strength over all. he would stand up for the weak, he likes to see these quality’s in others as well. Most of the time relaxed, he has a small since of humor and plans to live the rest of his life however, and wherever he wants, and dose what he believes in.

†Equipment:
-Light armor
-Katana, a fine blade made of pure silver, with a slightly slanted hilt, named Silver Fang. [his main weapon]
-A small leather pack used to store items

†Magic and Skills :
-Armorer-Apprentice
-Athletics -Apprentice
-Blade-Expert
-Light Armor-Journeyman
-Heavy Armor-Apprentice
-Destruction Magic, a small Fire and Frost spell
-Restoration, Heal minor wounds, Cure Poison, Cure Paralysis.

†Weaknesses:
~His family/friends
~women and children
~human ailments/weaknesses

†Mother: Nebilim Laurencin

†Father Arthur

†Siblings: None

†Pets: None

†History:
Born in Cyrodiil to a imperial legionnaire and a simple farm girl in Chorrol. Often his father was away during his childhood, leaving he and his mother alone in their home in Chorrol just outside the gates where they could enjoy the life of the town, but also get away from it when need be. A humble home, his mother worked in the city selling a few fresh vegetables and eggs. he would play with his friends most days, and what little boy [unless given the reason not to] didn’t think their father was a hero? He was so proud of his father often bragging to his friends, and when his father would come home the two spent every moment together.

Growing a little older, and of course wanting to be a hero like his father he started to save up money for a weapon, and grew interested in the fighters guild, he still had his parents and friends, often bothering the monks at Weyon Priory, not that they did anything wrong but kids would be kids, often nosey, of just goofing around, but they knew when to halt their games and behave themselves as well.

At around thirteen, he finely talked the fighters guild into letting him in within the next few years, they laughed at him, but he went home that day and started training himself, he ‘battled’ friends and used games to help him, when his father came home, he brought him his first weapon, a katana, one he was very proud of and kept close to him at all times, his father would tell him the stories of his journeys and things that happened in most Guards lives. His father even spoke about the tower, and even the Emperor, though not on first hand accounts of meeting, he’d ‘met’ him [more like seen him].

At fifteen he joined the fighters guild after proving himself with a few first missions, when honestly they had expected the young man to get himself hurt. But after all his father had began to train him, he was always getting better with a sword and smarter. His father taught him, not only how to kill, but compassion for others, and inner strength. And wisdom. However still a child these things meant something to him, of course, but would mean more to him as he grow older. Around this time as well ill fortune struck., his father was killed during a raid on bandits, they were outnumbered and fell right into a trap. This broke the mother and son left alone now. He threw himself into the guild, to train and get stronger, of course with the hopes of revenge at first, like most foolish men. But slowly as he grew up from one yea into the next he realized things and could finely accept things, missing his father, always, be decided it was best to move on. He became a rather respectable man amongst the men in the fighters guild, at around eighteen he was a Fighter’s guild Guardian, and it was at the point where he could challenge the other to become the Fighter’s Guild’s champion, but suddenly decided to end his practices with the guild turning his head towards something even more noble, men thought of him as the type seeking attention, approval, and someone who wanted the eyes of the crowd on him. He would only smile when someone would say something like this, and tell them that people can look if they want, but he had rather blend in, but this was something he wanted to do, not for other’s respect, not for honor and gold. But he wanted to do something that would help others.

He went to the Imperial City, where he joined the imperial guard after hard training and preparation, his father’s shoes were hard to try and fill. He managed and remained with the legion, slowly he earned higher ranks and made himself known, he went on missions to the other cities as well as have the rare few chances to be amongst the guards when the Emperor himself was closer around. He stopped cutting his hair but still wore it short, armor and blades always in top condition, as he grew older he became wiser and stronger, he was a kind hearted man, but not a push over, he seemed cold at times, but only to those who didn’t understand his reasoning. Always ready to fight till the death the naive young man became a almost shrewd adult. He met his sweetheart in the Imperial city and slowly gained thoughts of a future between the two of them, he married her, and their time together was warm, as he turned twenty five his mother had grown older and died due to a illness. He went home and gave her a proper resting.

At twenty-seven, his wife and three year old son, were killed when a group of men angry with the legion, had been watching them seeking out away to destroy their lives, his was one of the families that was shattered forever.

The stresses of work and the memory of his father’s death, his mother’s illness and his sweetheart slowly crept upon him. But he continued to fulfill his duty but seemed to loose himself slowly, caring about little anymore other then his duties he fulfilled well, be he had no other life left. One morning he was out in the green emperor way and alone, he pulled his helmet away and seated himself on one of the benches overlooking the gravestones and greenery. Face in his hands he cried, tears flowing down his face, he cried silently to himself. Something he never did in front of any of his men. Today he thought that he was alone, but it seemed he wasn’t, he felt a firm yet gentle hand on his shoulder, he didn’t look up as hair and hands covered his face. He assumed it was one of his fellow legionnaires. The man beside him let go of his shoulder and spoke to him, with a calm voice yet with the wisdom and kindness of a voice he’d never heard before, when the man said something about his family, and his grave joining them here. The Imperial Guard’s heart sank and his eyes cleared, and slowly he looked up towards the man…….not a fellow guardsmen.

Shortly after this he started to look up again, after spending over ten years with the guards, he resigned and retied, most of the other men were stunned by his action, but he had started to smile again, his closer friends couldn’t have wished for anything else for the man. Maturing again, he looked towards the White and Gold tower and gave a long bow, before turning to the setting sun. in his heart he would always be that child In the fighter’s guild, and the man be became as a guardsmen. But now he had something else to do, unsure what, but knowing he would find it.

As the years went on he traveled the lands, the lands of the elves and the other dangerous lands of Tamriel, he spent time learning about the cultures and ways of different races, filled himself with endless knowledge and even lived in Valenwood for almost a year. But now he returns to Cyrodiil, he is older and has changed into a wise man like the one he met once. Changed yet ever so the same. He returns here, and is more a wonderer then anything, and upon coming home finds the Emperor dead, and Kvatch in ruins, perhaps a new journey is about to begin.

†RP Sample:

The salty breeze that swept over the sea hitting him in the face, scattering his brown hair around his neck, some of it clinging to the spray from the ocean he’d got walking across the deck of the ship. Today the waves were tireless, but not at a dangerous level, and they were quite the sight to sit and watch. As the ship came in and man worked to tie her to the dock and get the ramp off steady he took notice of people sitting around just watching the lively ocean. Most of the waves were caused by the ships coming and going this busy day. With the sounds of his feet stepping lightly across the deck, then the ramp and dock where he took a moment to turn back towards the ship. With a stern nod he reached with his white-gloved hand and gave the man in ownership of the vessel some gold.

The dock creaked under his feet but he ignored it, along with the seagulls screaming in the background as they fought over some smaller mud crabs scuttling across the beach. Taking one hand he brushed all of his hair back, to stop it from sticking to his skin. He looked over the docks of Anvil with a sort of calm and peaceful aura to him. A soft smile showed on his lips for a moment. It was like he was coming home he’d not set foot here for how long now? He’d almost forgotten track of time, most of the people here would mistake him being a visitor from somewhere else.

Swaying comfortably with his steps, feeling the scabbard of his sword rubbing his side, as it hid within his over coat/cloak. His other hand simply held the straps of his back and carried by his side. He stepped lightly and headed inside the Flowing Bowl, the closest place, and made his way to the bar where he sat down and ordered his first drink being back home. Then the bartender turned he laughed and gave the older man a rough pat on the shoulder. An old acquaintance happy to see him again, served him and gave him a few newsprints to look over. “seems I have been gone to long” he stated voice dry and raspy yet some how kind. He tilted back his glass of rum as his eyes scanned over a few copies of the Black Horse Courier.