Age: 25
Race: Human
Height: 1.8 meters (about 5'11'')
Weight: 72 kilograms (about 159 pounds)
Place of Birth: Melbourne, Australia
Place of Current Residence: Melbourne, Australia
Roland's family raised him amidst music and, as such, he grew up with any talent in its regards nurtured to the fullest extent. As both parents were quite learned in the department of stringed instruments yet his mother had more of a knack for teaching others, he was clasically taught from a very early age. However, with knowing the basics of playing so naturally by an age where he might hear of styles more appealing to his youth, it did not take him long to stray from such formalities. While he did not lack appreciation for the beauty of classically-styled music, Roland found himself taking preference to a different style. Given those he went to school with and the general 'scene' about him, it wasn't too hard for him to be exposed to punk rock. It was not wholly the music itself that interested him, but the idea behind it; the ideals, partially, and you would suppose that their title, but the idea itself as well. The mood that was so clear in these musicians, what drove them to create the sort of music they did - how they spoke of everything to him. You see, the people who played 'punk' music in Roland's location did not play 'fuck authority' music by any means. What was authority, after all, but something created by people? In this, nihilism was supported. What was to say that anything was really tangible - and what use was being able to wrap a hand around it anyway? Rhythm and rhyme meant shit all to him when it came to music, then. These people hadn't applied their incredibly cynical beliefs to the music directly, however, and this was the exact appeal that he'd found in it. At first, then, he would do this on the violin, which was actually not quite a task as one might assume - it was a fine instrument for this sort of thing, actually.
Through all the manipulation of it, however, it was eventually suggested that he take a stab at the guitar. And why not? So adept at things of an instrumental nature was he that it didn't take him long to become as good at it as he desired. Soon enough, then, a band was suggested, songs written. . .Things rolled on from there. Along with Nick Ardel at vocals, Jim Reiffel on bass, Jeff Bargis on drums and Dave Lacroix occasionally on saxophone, Roland formed a band known as The First Born Is Dead. Though the lifestyle of his bandmates was one of many, many drugs, Roland didn't quite take part in them, unless one was to count cigarettes smoked and the very occasional drunk he'd share with them. Given that half of the band had, financially, come from upper middle class families - but respectable, more 'free' than one may expect of those on that level - they eventually managed to get the money together to actually get an international tour rolling, and so, they did. This first consisted of moving to London and, for some time, getting jobs to further the amount of money they'd need to go too far out of Europe with their act. . .North America, most likely. How they hated London, though. Hate was fuel, however, and so they played on, wrote on - struggled as they would and did, after some time, manage that tour. Ties from home became loose over the five years of living in London and touring, however, and when they all returned to Melbourne, they found their own seperate problems. Roland's was small, perhaps, as he hadn't pressed too close at that point; just that things wouldn't come together so readily as they once had. It was Nick's bitter and wreckless nature that proved the most changing, however, for the man had been torn from a long-time lover and was loathing of life for it. Soon enough, this spelled death for him and, in the same, death for the band.
After a month of living in utter shock of it all, playing nothing and acting only absent from it all, Roland went together with Jeff and another friend of his, Mark Savage, to form an instrumental band utilizing his violin skills again. This was nameless and, as such, considered a solo act of Roland's due to the fact that he fronted the outfit. They played gigs in Australia but never did a tour beyond that. Perhaps five months after its start, Roland was staying, with the band, at a hotel in Sydney; practicing on the balcony, in fact. At the same time, an extremely insane man was stalking about, moving about rooms in search of a victim, any victim. Beckoned by Roland's playing, the man chose Roland - a simple walk behind and a healthy shove, and the somewhat delicate violinist was sent tumbling from the outcropping and to the grass below; an impact that killed him insantly. With this death, he found no Heaven, no Hell, not even blackness, but the middle of a forest to awaken in, rain pissing from the angry sky in torrents. From here, he could only pick a direction which he thought to hold sanctuary and run. Luckily, he found one eventually; sort of. Drenched to the bone, Roland sat before the hearth of a tavern, one among many he would find himself visiting in this nice little hell. For Roland, this was close. Salvation from it was a joke but it wasn't constant pain - fear was far too common, though, given his significantly lowered status as a powerful creature. Soon enough, he ran into a man he knew perfectly well, the drummer of the band Black Dream, who they'd played a show with in the States. This peer of his gave him a chain, or what he supposed would be called a chain, though it was merely a housing; aureate. What it contained was quite alive. At this, magical as well, and eagerly awaiting a request on Roland's part to be brought home, eager to create a vessel so that he might to so. Given the proper details of location - in time as well as place - this was able to take him home quite easily.
(I recently gave this character a make-over. Appropriate changes to this profile may or may not be made.)