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The Lord Ruler's perfect capital city, Luthadel, is doing the impossible: rebelling. Skaa half-breeds are being taught the power of Allomancy, something that the Lord Ruler's obligators said only existed in the nobility. The enslaved skaa, with their murderous benefactor, now fight back against a living god's oppression.

So, the Inquisition was formed. The nobles begin to fear assassination from all sides. The times of nobility Mistborn killing each other are over. The Steel Inquisitors look for aristocrat traitors and insurgent skaa, and the skaa try with all their strength to merely survive. The Lord Ruler's perfect Final Empire is slowly devolving into chaos.

Read the full prologue!

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Mistborn Series Brandon Sanderson
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Maximillian Driskell - Character Application



2 replies to this topic

#1 Maximillian Driskell


  • Heir to House Driskell

15
Steward in Training
  • Age21

  • Relationship StatusSingle

  • OriginPort Tresteau

  • Allomantic StatusOpen

Posted 17 October 2017 - 12:00 AM

MAXIMILLIAN DRISKELL
Noble Rioter



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Name/Handle: Daydam
Contact: PM/Discord/Fly all the way to Argentina to share some mate!







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Name: Maximillian Driskell
Type: Noble
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Place of Origin: Port Tresteau
Occupation: Negotiator/ wine enthusiast/ artist?
Relationship Status: Si







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Type of Powers: Misting
Metals Used: Zinc
Degree of Skill: Advanced
Status: Open







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Appearances are a fun game for Maximillian Driskell. The way he sees it, looking the right way or saying the right things can be just as effective as Rioting someone. Because of this, the 6 foot tall nobleman is always seen wearing white shirts and a vest. When outside, he also wears a black coat to keep his clothing from getting stained with ash.

Maximillian has small, dark brown eyes, a medium, defined nose and a small mouth with thin lips. He has the typical Driskell hair; light brown, wavy, really hard to keep under control. He keeps it short and his beard neatly trimmed, as he considers them the most recognizable aspect of his face, some kind of personal signature.

Max may not be the most athletic man, but he is quite fast and flexible. The bad thing is, he is no Pewterarm; Maximillian's steadiness is really poor and he tends to be very clumsy, which can easily lead to him crashing against walls, doors, and practically everything around him if he's not careful.

The young Rioter carries a small notebook with him wherever he goes. That notebook contains sketches of different places and people, with annotations about them.



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Max may show himself as a confident man, but on the inside he's very insecure. The young nobleman really cares about what others say about him, and has a constant need to prove himself to others. This is the main reason why he never shows anyone his sketchbook; he feels his drawings aren't good.

Max is a kind, caring person, who gets easily attached to others, though he is somewhat afraid of showing his feelings, too. He makes sure to show his true feelings only to those he truly feels he can trust.
Big social meetings terrify Max, specially when there's women involved. He has almost no experience talking to women, so having to do so gets him quite nervous and leads to him being... well, himself. His clumsiness really shows whenever he's nervous.

If there's one thing that Max loves, is avoiding fights. He recognizes he's not even half as good with a dueling cane as he is with words, so he does everything he can to get away from situations by simply talking. He may not admit it, even to himself, but he's terrified of fighting. This, along with his fear of showing his feelings, is what makes him feel most like a coward. He hates himself for that.


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Special Skills: Observing, quick thinking, manipulating, annoying Seekers.

Strengths: Maximillian can be really good with words, which, supported by his skills as a Rioter, helps him manipulate others with little effort. He also enjoys using his powers in ingenious ways to annoy Seekers. Blame that on his father!

Weaknesses: Even though he is good with words normally, social meetings make Max really anxious. His dancing skills are worse than non-existant, mostly due to his clumsiness, and he is greatly affected by what people say about him, even if he doesn't show it.
Max is really uncoordinated. He tries to do many things at the same time, and ends up causing total chaos wherever he goes.






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Maximillian Driskell was born in 897 in Port Tresteau. His father, Bayard Driskell, was a talented Seeker, though not many people knew this. He wasn't a particularly caring father; his work kept him away from the house most of the time, and he didn't pay much attention to Max when he got back home. Max's mother, Felicia, on the other side, was really kind to him, though she had a serious obsession with appearances. As a result of this, the boy had to be impeccable at all times, otherwise he would get punished. Yet, that didn't stop him from wandering away from the house for hours and coming back covered in dirt from having tripped and fallen, since he was really clumsy.

By the age of 10, Max had become really interested in art; living at Port Tresteau gave the boy lots of interesting scenes to draw. He would sit for hours, either inside the house or outside, drawing sketches in a small notebook. Sadly for him, his father didn't approve of his attraction to art, as he said it would distract him from doing his labors as heir to the House.

It was at that age that Maximillian was tested for Allomancy. He wasn't really interested in becoming an Allomancer, as he thought he would most probably be a Seeker like his father. The beatings were brutal, but Bayard didn't care. He only cared about his son being useful as a heir. Felicia was totally different; she barely dared to look at Max during the beatings, and whenever she did, she would instantly flinch and start crying silently. Max saw Bayard turn toward her and say something, but he couldn't hear them. He could only see. He saw his father, standing with his back straight, looking at him with that cold look of his. He saw his mother, looking away, crying. He saw his own tears filling his eyes, making his vision blurry. And then, he saw nothing at all.

Max woke up several days later and found out he was a Rioter. As soon as he recovered from the beatings, his father got him a tutor to teach him not only about his Allomancy, but also about everything he needed to know in order to be a decent House Lord someday. The tutor, a middle-aged Soother from Vetitan named Vahlian Kressdan, was a minor nobleman who had some trading contracts with House Driskell. The kind, smart nobleman quickly became a role model to Max as well as a close friend, even though Bayard said he was "only half as good a nobleman as he is an Allomancer". But again, that was Bayard. Nobody was good enough for him, not even his own son.

Maximillian's lessons with Vahlian quickly made him realise the importance of appearances. That was when he started paying more attention to his mother, dressing more like a gentleman and trying to show himself as a mature young nobleman -Well, not really a noble man yet, since he was only 12-. His clumsiness proved to be a terrible problem, though, since he would often get distracted and trip over stuff or hit himself against doorframes, walls, trees, and practically anything that wasn't educated enough to move out of his way. As a result, he ended ruining lots of suits, so he went back to using more informal clothes for a couple years, despite his mother's constant scoldings about his lack of grace.

Max proved to be a really smart man. By the age of fifteen, he knew almost everything about the work in the fields and the distillery, contracts, noble houses from the regions, and -naturally- the dangers of living in a place that was constantly being raided by pirates. His father had hired a group of guards to protect his inversions from them, but by the time Max turned eighteen, he had a different idea. He was, after all, an expert manipulator.


"You did what?" Bayard's voice echoed through the study. Max froze, surprised. He was so sure of his plan, but now it seemed like one of his stupidest ideas.

"I made a deal with them, father. They won't bother us any longer, as long as we give them just a tiny part of -"
"I DON'T CARE IF WE GIVE THEM A DROP OF LIQUOR OR OUR WHOLE DISTILLERY!" Bayard's face was red. Maximillian's, on the other side of the study, was as pale as if he had just seen a mistwraith. "I'm not giving anything to those criminals. That's exactly why I spend so much money on guards."

"Father, hiring that many guards cost us three times the money I spend by bribing away the pirates. I just thought-"

"You thought wrong. Lord Ruler, if that's how you're planning to be useful to this House, then I hope I can somehow get a new heir. Boy, you are really stupid." Boy. Max hated that word. It was as if his own father was ashamed of calling him son. He wasn't Max, not even Maximillian. He was just the boy.

"Get out. Now. And you better get locked up in your room and study for the rest of the week, or I'll personally make you Snap again." And with that, the talk was over. Max turned around and walked to his room, frustrated. A part of him still told him that he had done what was best for his House, but his father's words haunted him. They always did.

Max locked the door behind him and went straight to his desk. He didn't even look at his books; instead, he took his small sketchbook from a pocket in his vest, and started drawing on it. It wouldn't be his best sketch, since his hands were trembling from his conversation with his father, but he just needed to do something to calm himself down. I'm not giving anything to those criminals. He was wrong, and Max knew it. Why couldn't he just admit it? If that's how you're planning to be useful to this House, then I hope I can somehow get a new heir. He was useful. He knew it. He was smart, calculating, and manipulative. But still, his father couldn't see him as anything more than a failure. He needed to prove he would be a good House Lord someday. He would be better than his own father.

He finally finished his sketch. It depicted a pirate, slightly older than him, with a smirk on his face and a bottle of liquor in his left hand. Max felt better, though he was still trembling a little. It's definitely not my best work, he thought, closing his sketchbook and putting it back in his pocket. He picked up a book and started studying. He needed to find a way to show his father he was good enough.


At the age of twenty one, the idea hit him; he would go to Luthadel to find new allies. That way, he would finally prove his father how good he was. The thing was, he had to convince Bayard. Even worse, he would have to go to balls and talk to the people. Only thinking of that terrified him, and made his mother's voice appear softly in the back of his head. You don't look like a nobleman, you don't act like one either. What are they going to think of you? He would prove her wrong. He had to. But every time he thought of big social meetings, a part of him started screaming, telling him to run away. He was excellent with words when in small business meetings, but facing many people at once made his mind go blank. Specially women. He had talked to one just once before. He had been sixteen by then, and his father had taken him to his first ball. He didn't remember much; he was talking to a young lady -or at least trying to-, and all the sudden he lost his balance and dropped his wine on the young woman's dress. Everything he could remember after that was his father's voice, scolding him for running away from the place.

But that all didn't matter right now. He had to do it. He would go to Luthadel, make new allies, and show his family he could be a good House Lord.

It's showtime.



"Come in, boy". Boy. He just couldn't call him son. Max opened the door to his father's study and stepped in. Bayard was looking through the window, his back turned towards the door. He didn't even bother looking at his son before speaking again. "What do you want?"

Max hesitated, looking down. He had gone through this conversation a thousand times in his head, but he was feeling really nervous now. Talking to his father used to do that to him.

"Well? Are you going to speak, or are you here to make me lose my time?" The big man had turned toward his son, his face unreadable. The tall man looked regal in his suit. Max looked at his father in the eyes, and found the words he was looking for.

"I'm leaving, father".

Bayard didn't react. "Leaving? And where are you leaving, ex-"

"To Luthadel. I'm going to find new allies".

The old nobleman looked at his son, incredulous. "Allies? We have more than enough here. And why do you think I would let you go?"

Max looked away, trying to find the courage to say what he had truly come to say. Finally, he looked at his father, feeling reassured. He would prove him how good he was. He burned zinc, and slightly touched on his father's emotions. Now you'll see.

"We're losing our power. I've been thinking through this. Food? Dyes? There are lots of houses who can offer that. Our distilleries are the best thing we have, but House Fathvell is much more powerful than us, and their alliance with House Lekal gives them an even bigger advantage. If we want to become more powerful, we only have two options. Either we forge an alliance with them, or we somehow drive them out of business. Either way, we need to move, and Luthadel is our best shot".

Bayard looked at his son, stupefied. He just stayed there, eyes wide open, staring at him. Suddenly, he seemed to relax, and a smirk appeared on his face. "You almost got me, kid. You are a good Rioter, I’ll give you that, but you forget who I am. Have you forgotten I'm a Seeker, or are you stupid enough to try and Riot me anyway?"

Max chuckled. He stopped touching his father's emotions, but kept his zinc burning lightly. "Maybe I am stupid. But I bet you're still thinking of what I just told you. You called me stupid a couple years ago, yet you still give liquor to the pirates. And at this moment, you know I'm right once again".

Bayard's face grew red with anger. "You really are stupid, then. If you want to convince me of something, do it without Rioting me, or just leave me alone!"

Maximillian smirked, making his father even angrier. "That's why you're letting me go. I am really good at manipulating people".

"What do you-"

"I stopped Rioting you as soon as you noticed it, dad. But you kept feeling the same way, because deep down you knew I was right". Bayard tried to hide his surprise, but failed miserably. "Just imagine. If I can play with your mind like this, what could I do to others? Younger noblemen, less experienced, who don't even know who or what I am. Besides, I'll be far away from here, which means you won't see me for quite a while. Everybody wins". His father was completely shocked, frozen in place. I'll have to draw this later, or I'll forget it ever happened, he thought. "If you need me, I'll be packing my things".

Max turned around, still smiling, and got out of the room, leaving his father alone with his thoughts. He looked at his hands. Stop shaking, you fool, he told himself, you made it. Now we get ready and wait. He walked to his room and started packing, still shaking. He had faced his father. He had manipulated him. And he had succeeded. He smiled to himself. Now, the real show begins.


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“I’m sorry, Max, I just can’t believe that” Vahlian Kressdan said, smiling. Maximillian Driskell walked through the field by his side. He had decided to make a stop in Vetitan and visit Vahlian before heading to Luthadel.

“I’m telling you, he was petrified. Look, I drew it right here”, he said, stopping to take out his small sketchbook from one of his pockets. Max didn’t show anyone his drawings. Vahlian was the only one he trusted enough to do so.

He opened his sketchbook, looking for the right drawing. Most of the pages were filled with quick sketches of people he had met, next to personal notes on them. A fat, round-nosed nobleman from Garthwood, a skaa working at the fields, a pirate, Vahlian himself, and many more. Finally, Max found what he was looking for. The sketch depicted a big man with a mixture of anger and surprise on his face, his long, wavy hair a total mess. He seemed much weaker than normal. Next to the drawing, there was a single sentence: “I’m going to Luthadel, father”.

Vahlian leaned toward the sketchbook, looking at the picture. He took a step back and looked at Max. “You really did it. I… I can’t believe it”.

Max grinned. “You shouldn’t be so surprised. It was you, after all, that gave me the idea of looking for new allies”.

“Well, yes, but I didn’t expect you to go so far!” Vahlian looked astonished, but there was a hint of happiness in his voice.

“You know me, Vahlian. I always exceed expectations”. Both men looked at each other for a couple seconds, and started laughing. They started walking again, towards Maximillian’s carriage. As they reached it, the middle-aged man stopped again, looking at Max, his expression saddened.

“Be careful out there, Max”, he said. Suddenly, he started smiling again. “And don’t worry, I’ll stay here, making sure your father doesn’t get a new heir or burn down his own fields to avoid being robbed while you’re not here”.

Max chuckled, and looked back at the fields, smiling. “Thank you, friend. I’ll make sure to write to you and tell you how I’m doing”. He hopped into the carriage.

“I hope so. And include some of your drawings!”

Max looked back as the carriage started. I’ll miss this place, he thought to himself.


Maximillian woke up. His back hurt, and he felt dizzy. How long had he been sleeping? He took a moment to recompose himself, and looked out the window. It was dark outside. Well, that answers one question. I slept a lot. Now, where-

A great wall extended before him. Luthadel, he thought. Finally. A wave of excitement hit him, though he was also getting a bit nervous. What would it be like? He had heard the stories; big buildings, incredibly beautiful keeps, and that giant palace in the middle, the Hill of the Thousand Spires. Kredik Shaw. He wanted to run into the city and walk everywhere, visit every street, every corner. That part of his childhood hadn’t died, it seemed. He still was an explorer.

The carriage stopped by the Iron Gate, but started moving again just a minute later. The stone buildings in the hotel district ahead caught his attention, and he found himself worried once again; where was he going to stay? There were many more hotels than he had expected, and many people coming in and out of them. Nice, he thought. Not even my first ball, and I’m already getting nervous. Lord Ruler, this is going to be tough.

Max peeked out of the carriage and looked at the coachman. “Where do you recommend me to stay?” Suddenly, he flinched. He had said that much louder than he had wanted to. The coachman, however, didn’t seem to have heard him. Max blushed as he saw a bunch of people turning to look at him, and sank into his seat, peaking through the window from time to time. Well, I hope Kredik Shaw has a room for me, because this thing won’t st-

The carriage stopped.

The door suddenly opened, and the coachman appeared next to it. “We’ve arrived, sir”.

Max hesitated, but stepped outside. He was in front of a small hotel. The coachman looked at him. “Is everything alright, sir?”
“I… Where are we, exactly?”

“At the Rosy Sunrise. I told you about this place when you asked me. Nice place, with a very good selection of wines.”

“Wait, you did?” Max felt stupid. It seemed the coachman had heard him, after all. “Lord Ruler... I guess the city overwhelmed me for a moment”. Yeah, the city. Not the people looking at me. Definitely not.

“You should check in. I’ll take your things inside”.

And with that, Max started walking toward the hotel. He was a little nervous, and he still felt really stupid. But he had arrived. There’s no going back, he thought, feeling a surge of confidence. He closed his eyes. It’s showt-

A loud thud echoed in the reception room as Max crashed face first against the doorframe. He cursed quietly, then hesitated. That’s it, I’ll go to a different hotel, he thought. No, that would make me seem even more stupid. “Hello, I’d like to check in, you can go pick up my stuff at the Rosy Whatever, and please fetch me my blood while you're there, I think I left some on the doorframe”.

Max looked around him. People were chuckling or looking away. The coachman was in the verge of tears, making an unnatural effort not to laugh at him. Max sighed, then turned around and walked into the hotel, this time making sure not to hit anything else.

Edited by Daydam, 17 October 2017 - 01:43 AM.


#2 KChan

600
Lord Prelan

Posted 17 October 2017 - 02:39 AM

Great job on Max! I look forward to seeing him around Luthadel!

It's an Approval for me, so one more and you're good to go!

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#3 Comatose


  • Shard of Brain Inactivity

352
House Raisaal

Posted 17 October 2017 - 04:20 AM

Approved!

Hes awesome! And, Im already thinking of several characters Id love to RP with him. Great job. I especially liked how easily you gave us a sense of the relationship between Max and Vahlian in such a short exchange. Excellent work.

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