Highborn, Marcus Arryn

[attr="class","bioheader"]personality.

[attr="class,"bioentry"]Have you ever met an Arryn who isn't an Arryn? Well, Marcus doesn't care much about honor. As high as honor?! Screw that! If anything he had learned so far, 'Honor' is the argument of the decadent and the weak; he won't let himself be governed by idealistic notions of isolated people who knew nothing about this world. No! Marcus is a man of foresight and vision, and such he considers himself; although, the people of the Vale consider him a dishonorable maniac. But none tried to challenge him until now because he is merciless and ruthless as it comes. Pragmatic and deviant, Marcus seeks to destroy his enemies; not because he wants to amass power, it is because he wants to always have the upper hand. Being short for a man had always slighted him, and such forced him to work harder to mitigate the effects of the humiliation that he suffers from.
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Politics be damned! He likes to solve everything by the force of his hand. Everything can be killed even dragons, but he hadn't had the chance to test this theory yet. The man is not without merits; he is jovial and enjoys a good laugh, and he is quite boisterous as well. Marcus feels like a low-born than anything else, and he doesn't give a damn about it. Marcus doesn't care about or and ambition; he only cares to win.

[attr="class","bioheader"]history.

[attr="class,"bioentry"] His father was an Arryn, but his mother was a Baratheon. If anything, Marcus took after his mother. The young lad came to be furious more than honorable. Why his parents were married? Well, it was beyond him and he never asked. Marcus' mother liked to visit Storm's end on many occasions. Eventually, he got himself acquainted with his mother's family and took after them. As Marcus grew up, he discovered he wasn't growing taller. And suddenly, everyone and everything towered him. Such was a slight he had to live up with. He got mocked by his peers and whatnot. The only way to keep his pride intact was to fight them in a duel. At first, Marcus got beaten; he trained himself to become stronger. He fought them again; he got beaten again. Marcus didn't surrender; he learned from him mistakes aspiring to get better. And so was a continuous circle that lasted for years, and thus he became the laughing stock of his people. Until came the day he began to defeat his enemies; by then, and only then, those who mocked him stopped laughing. Marcus was given a squire to House Baratheon. In Storm's End, he was anointed a knight. Now, it was time to go home.
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He returned to find his father had arranged a marriage for him; a woman who was older than him by years, a Tyrell as well. Marcus felt slighted; he knew his father had arranged this marriage as he grew tired because of his son's reputation for being a midget. The Tyrell woman he didn't like, but she was a mean to an end. All that he wanted was a child to carry the name of his House, like any father. When he heard she disliked to see horse' meat eaten in the Eyrie, Marcus couldn't help himself but eat horse meat in front of her out of spite. The woman gave birth to children, and he liked only those who took after him; the others he didn't care about. His father, the Lord of House Arryn, was killed a martyr in a skirmish against the moon clans. The bastards killed his father! For Marcus, it was personal! The new Lord organized military campaigns against the wildlings of the mountains, and so he did against the pirates of the sea. He spent his years in battle not caring for the comforts of the Eyrie. Administration, politics, and diplomacy?! Marcus didn't care about them. Actually, he let his mother and wife deal with these things; even his children, the ones who didn't like to fight, he let them govern the Vale.
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Nothing was better than victory, and nothing was better than cheap Vale Ale after said victory. Marcus spent his years among his knights enjoying the life given to him; whether it was on foot, on horseback, or on the Sea. He focused on his militaristic endeavors than anything else. It was as if he was trying to prove something to Westeros, or perhaps he was trying to prove something to himself. It didn't matter, though! The king died in his bed like a coward, and Marcus had to go and pay his respects. Such a hassle! In the Wake, he sat beside his daughter. Marcus acted as if he was sleeping, but he couldn't help but smile from the whole affair that had happened. War was coming, anyway. And he had every intention to enjoy it.

[attr="class","bioheader"]inventory.

[attr="class,"bioentry"] Falcon Egg: Soon it will hatch, hopefully!
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Black: Is his desterier. A good steed, indeed!

[attr="class","bioline"]45

[attr="class","bioline"]Male

[attr="class","bioline"]Heterosexual

[attr="class","bioline"]162 cm

[attr="class","bioline"]75 Kg

[attr="class","bioline"]Highborn

[attr="class","bioline"]Lord of the rings, Thorin Oakenshield

[attr="class","bioline"]Hunter

[attr="class","bioicon"]