Post by Cam on Apr 21, 2011 14:24:05 GMT -6
Updated 12/19/2012
Name: Cameron / Cam
Gender: Male
Age: 38 Months
Species: Snowy Owl
Kingdom: Tree of Ga'hoole
Position: Singer
Description/Picture:
With a wingspan that hits close to fifty-six inches, Cam is almost dead on for an average-sized snowy owl. He lacks a lot of the black barring common to his species, and instead retains only a few blotches on his wings and tail. His eyes are a clear yellow, and his gaze is soft and warm - you could almost describe it as motherly. He is, however, blind in his right eye. Cam also has an odd habit of rocking side to side when standing still. However, his most notable trait is not his appearance but his singing voice, a voice that owls claim could put even the most restless bird to sleep.
Personality:
Quiet and reserved, Cam has a tendency to hang in the background in groups. He's not necessarily shy or anti-social. In fact he loves going out, he's just not one to speak unless he feels he has something meaningful to contribute to the conversation. His calm attentiveness has caused many an owl to seek him out to confide in, and Cam isn't one to judge or spread their worries through the tree.
The exception to this rule is kids - if you want to see Cam really open up, surround him with owlets. He loves children of all kinds, and they love him right back- Cam sneaks them goodies, much to the chagrin of their parents and the cooks. He's like the loveable uncle, playing games with them and letting them get away with things that their parents might punish them for.
Cam is a pushover and extremely passive. If he's asked to do something, it can take ages for him to get around to it without outside influence. He can be quite blunt as well, telling others quite directly what he thinks with little to no padding, and this frequently gets him into hot water.
Strengths: Voice. Reliable. Calm. Trustworthy.
Weaknesses: Passive. Quiet. Blind.
History:
Cam lived a childhood of joy. Born to snowy parents in a plentiful spring, he spent his owlet days chasing loose feathers through the tree and stumbling into the legs of royalty. He was particularly fond of one specific barred owl - an older creature, retired from the chaw life where he had been on both the Ga'hoolology and Navigation chaws.
The barred owl would sneak Cameron treats from the cooks, small delicious morsels, in exchange for Cam's time. Cameron would listen to the elderly bird's stories or hours on end, finding them fascinating. It was during these conversations that an interest in the stars stirred within Cameron, an interest that would have a great impact on his formative years.
Cam was eventually tapped for the Navigation chaw, and not only did he prove himself as a quick learner but also a quick thinker.
When he was around 26 months old, Cameron was returning with some members of his chaw from an early-morning expedition when they were attacked by crows. Although the injuries didn't prevent the birds from returning, Cam's flying was off the rest of the way home. When they returned to the tree a healer proclaimed him blind in one eye.
However, he had a habit of singing and humming to himself as he worked. Although mostly viewed as annoying, the chaw Ryb pulled him aside after one particularly disastrous flight and mentioned to him the possibility of becoming the next singer. The current one was aging and preparing to retire, her voice hoarse from month after month of beautiful singing, and a replacement had yet to be selected.
Cam was shocked - A male singer? - But agreed, understanding the unlikelihood of actually filling the position. He was even further shocked by the fact that, after a short demonstration of his abilities before a thoroughly impressed council, he was chosen as the new singer. He knew he could sing, but he had never thought of himself as /that/ good.
IC: (This is from a Hetalia: Axis Powers roleplay where I play the nation of Spain)
It wasn't necessarily a bad night, but it wasn't a good one, either. It was cold for a summer's night in Spain, but not unusually so, and clouds above obscured the stars and cast odd shadows across the harbor. Ships rested at port like slumbering beasts, the occasional groan of timber splitting the humid air. The only real light came from a row of taverns facing the surf, each rotting apart from the salty sea air and shabbier than the one before it. Boisturous voices could be heard, and occassionaly a fight was literally thrown out the door, much to the delight of the patrons within.
In the darkest, smallest tavern, set the farthest away from the harbor, a certain Spaniard had set up his camp for the night. It was quiet, but the people within where that particular tone of seedy that could turn even their own kind away. It was a great way for him to get away from his crew, for not even they would follow him here, not into this dank place where smoke hung thick in the air and the only light was a dwindling fire.
There was little talking in the bar, and the Nation revelled in the silence, savoring the incredibly salty alchohol he had been served in a barely-clean tankard. With his customary red jacket draped carefully over the back of his chair, and his hat perched on the table, he was the picture of relaxation. Yes, Toni was quite content with the way things were at that moment in time, until something snapped in the atmosphere and he looked up from his seat in the back of the bar.
"I said, yew drank mah drank!" A burley man, easily three times the Spaniard's size, was confronting a smaller pirate who resembled a tall rat. He slammed a ham-shoulder fist on the bar and pushed into his face, his features contored into a sneer.
"I did nothing!" squawed the smaller pirate, leaning back. Suddenly he was launched into a table, the rotting wood splintering underthe force. The man stood from his crash and was promblty smashed in the face. Blood began to pour down from a wound on his head. Spain blinked then, and leaned forward, his normally cheery eyes seeming to grow cold, almost calculating. The beefier man was hauling back for round two when Antonio placed a hand atopt his shoulder.
"You know," Spain hissed, face twisting into a devious smile, "You should really pay more attention to your grog, si?" The man spun with a roar, but Toni dropped, the punch missing him by centimeters. He popped back up a second later, pulling a face at the giant and quickly taking a nimble leap back when he tried for a second punch. All muscle, no skill - Antonio was familiar with the type.
Well, this would be boring.
Other:
He's rarely called by his full name in the Tree, and he uses it so infrequently that some owls actually think his name is just 'Cam'.
In my head, Cam sounds a lot like Jonsi when he sings. Listen
Name: Cameron / Cam
Gender: Male
Age: 38 Months
Species: Snowy Owl
Kingdom: Tree of Ga'hoole
Position: Singer
Description/Picture:
With a wingspan that hits close to fifty-six inches, Cam is almost dead on for an average-sized snowy owl. He lacks a lot of the black barring common to his species, and instead retains only a few blotches on his wings and tail. His eyes are a clear yellow, and his gaze is soft and warm - you could almost describe it as motherly. He is, however, blind in his right eye. Cam also has an odd habit of rocking side to side when standing still. However, his most notable trait is not his appearance but his singing voice, a voice that owls claim could put even the most restless bird to sleep.
Personality:
Quiet and reserved, Cam has a tendency to hang in the background in groups. He's not necessarily shy or anti-social. In fact he loves going out, he's just not one to speak unless he feels he has something meaningful to contribute to the conversation. His calm attentiveness has caused many an owl to seek him out to confide in, and Cam isn't one to judge or spread their worries through the tree.
The exception to this rule is kids - if you want to see Cam really open up, surround him with owlets. He loves children of all kinds, and they love him right back- Cam sneaks them goodies, much to the chagrin of their parents and the cooks. He's like the loveable uncle, playing games with them and letting them get away with things that their parents might punish them for.
Cam is a pushover and extremely passive. If he's asked to do something, it can take ages for him to get around to it without outside influence. He can be quite blunt as well, telling others quite directly what he thinks with little to no padding, and this frequently gets him into hot water.
Strengths: Voice. Reliable. Calm. Trustworthy.
Weaknesses: Passive. Quiet. Blind.
History:
Cam lived a childhood of joy. Born to snowy parents in a plentiful spring, he spent his owlet days chasing loose feathers through the tree and stumbling into the legs of royalty. He was particularly fond of one specific barred owl - an older creature, retired from the chaw life where he had been on both the Ga'hoolology and Navigation chaws.
The barred owl would sneak Cameron treats from the cooks, small delicious morsels, in exchange for Cam's time. Cameron would listen to the elderly bird's stories or hours on end, finding them fascinating. It was during these conversations that an interest in the stars stirred within Cameron, an interest that would have a great impact on his formative years.
Cam was eventually tapped for the Navigation chaw, and not only did he prove himself as a quick learner but also a quick thinker.
When he was around 26 months old, Cameron was returning with some members of his chaw from an early-morning expedition when they were attacked by crows. Although the injuries didn't prevent the birds from returning, Cam's flying was off the rest of the way home. When they returned to the tree a healer proclaimed him blind in one eye.
However, he had a habit of singing and humming to himself as he worked. Although mostly viewed as annoying, the chaw Ryb pulled him aside after one particularly disastrous flight and mentioned to him the possibility of becoming the next singer. The current one was aging and preparing to retire, her voice hoarse from month after month of beautiful singing, and a replacement had yet to be selected.
Cam was shocked - A male singer? - But agreed, understanding the unlikelihood of actually filling the position. He was even further shocked by the fact that, after a short demonstration of his abilities before a thoroughly impressed council, he was chosen as the new singer. He knew he could sing, but he had never thought of himself as /that/ good.
IC: (This is from a Hetalia: Axis Powers roleplay where I play the nation of Spain)
It wasn't necessarily a bad night, but it wasn't a good one, either. It was cold for a summer's night in Spain, but not unusually so, and clouds above obscured the stars and cast odd shadows across the harbor. Ships rested at port like slumbering beasts, the occasional groan of timber splitting the humid air. The only real light came from a row of taverns facing the surf, each rotting apart from the salty sea air and shabbier than the one before it. Boisturous voices could be heard, and occassionaly a fight was literally thrown out the door, much to the delight of the patrons within.
In the darkest, smallest tavern, set the farthest away from the harbor, a certain Spaniard had set up his camp for the night. It was quiet, but the people within where that particular tone of seedy that could turn even their own kind away. It was a great way for him to get away from his crew, for not even they would follow him here, not into this dank place where smoke hung thick in the air and the only light was a dwindling fire.
There was little talking in the bar, and the Nation revelled in the silence, savoring the incredibly salty alchohol he had been served in a barely-clean tankard. With his customary red jacket draped carefully over the back of his chair, and his hat perched on the table, he was the picture of relaxation. Yes, Toni was quite content with the way things were at that moment in time, until something snapped in the atmosphere and he looked up from his seat in the back of the bar.
"I said, yew drank mah drank!" A burley man, easily three times the Spaniard's size, was confronting a smaller pirate who resembled a tall rat. He slammed a ham-shoulder fist on the bar and pushed into his face, his features contored into a sneer.
"I did nothing!" squawed the smaller pirate, leaning back. Suddenly he was launched into a table, the rotting wood splintering underthe force. The man stood from his crash and was promblty smashed in the face. Blood began to pour down from a wound on his head. Spain blinked then, and leaned forward, his normally cheery eyes seeming to grow cold, almost calculating. The beefier man was hauling back for round two when Antonio placed a hand atopt his shoulder.
"You know," Spain hissed, face twisting into a devious smile, "You should really pay more attention to your grog, si?" The man spun with a roar, but Toni dropped, the punch missing him by centimeters. He popped back up a second later, pulling a face at the giant and quickly taking a nimble leap back when he tried for a second punch. All muscle, no skill - Antonio was familiar with the type.
Well, this would be boring.
Other:
He's rarely called by his full name in the Tree, and he uses it so infrequently that some owls actually think his name is just 'Cam'.
In my head, Cam sounds a lot like Jonsi when he sings. Listen
