Post by Sam on Jun 30, 2011 20:28:31 GMT -5
((Hi, everybody :D It's been quite a while since I've done this, so for convenience I've done both list and story.))
Name: Till
Age: around 17
Gender: Male
Gift: Silence
Personality: Fairly quiet, misanthropic, very sarcastic, generally hard to like
Appearance: Tall, wiry, with deeply tanned skin, odd reddish-brown hair, pale eyes, and an odd perpetual frown
Likes/Interests: Alchemy (the pestle-and-mortar kind), lockpicking, pickpocketing, parkour, hunting and trapping, stalking
Dislikes: Bright lights, fighting, short people, businessmen, loud noises
Long Version:
Till isn't entirely sure how old he is, and never has been. He can't remember the first few years of his life, but then who can. As best as he knows, he's somewhere around 17, but he could be older, and suspects that he might be due to his height. He was born in the mountains of Germany, and raised in the snow and crags. He was also born gifted, and his parents knew almost the second he was pushed into the world. His mouth uttered and he screamed like all newborns, yet there was no noise. His mother initially feared that he was a mute, but his father knew better. The scream was not only silent, it seemed to absorb some of the sound around him, and sure enough, when the baby made other noises, there was no sound. Eventually, as if by magic, the sound switched back on. The child grew, but even as he was only four years old, his mother grew sick with the fever and died. His mother had been gifted, and men from the lab came to pick her up. He hid in the rafters from the men, silent as can be. His father tried to stop the men in the white jackets, but as he raised his voice he was shot down. The child came down from the rafters after the men had left, collecting his few belongings. Since he has lived outside of cities, moving every so often to avoid detection before finally finding Wixham, a city that one could easily get lost in. It is here that he has stayed for the past two years, outside the walls in a small cave he calls home. He has taught himself to make a living by way of thievery, hired espionage, assassination, and other trades of the night. He stands tall, at nearly six-foot-six, and wiry, with enough muscle to move his own body but not much else. He has extremely tanned skin, though completely by birth as he almost never ventures into the daylight if he doesn't have to. He always wear a skintight suit of unknown material, dark grey in colour and soft to the touch, but seemingly quiet durable. He wears one of two cloaks depending on circumstance, one a dark, mottled gray and the other a brownish-red like the hide of a deer. The cloaks both sweep from his shoulders to his ankles, clasping in the front at his throat and collar, leaving only a small strip of his chest exposed to the elements. He always goes barefoot out of personal preference, and as a result has built up nearly a half-inch of thick, rock-hard callouses. Even in the winter when it gets chilled, he only wears woolen socks, never shoes. His hair is an oddity indeed, brown with hints of red, almost auburn, but not quiet. Despite his youth it is interspersed with patches of dark grey, almost the colour of a wolf pelt. His eyes are also strange, with one iris being deep, nearly emerald green, and the other being pale and only slightly off-white. He has a scar that runs down his face, a jagged, ugly thing extending two centimetres above his pale left eye and crossing down his cheek, ending almost level with his jaw. This side of his face is paralyzed as a result of an accident with a poison he was mixing, giving him the appearance that he always is frowning. Even when he smiles, only one side of his face moves, creating a grotesque sort of twisted smile or smirk. His only true gift is his ability to cloak himself or other objects in silence, creating a sort of void around it into which all sound vanishes. This makes him useful for stealthy operations, as now his own movement makes no sound, and he can simply will a door to not creak or a guard not to scream. Another thing is his ability to vanish. This is not a power that comes from a gift, it's not even really a power, but simply a natural stillness that comes from one accustomed to long periods of silence and avoiding detection. He stops moving and eyes seem to skip right over him... most of the time. His hobbies are all ones that he has needed to keep himself alive. He enjoys hunting and trapping for the food, clothing, and tools it can provide, and practices his own form of parkour to allow him to get around the city and forest using only his own body. He has trained himself to pick pockets with extraordinary stealth, providing income for him to use in emergency, and can pick locks quickly and efficiently, making him an excellent thief. He has several times contracted out to do corporate or private espionage, burglary, or assassinations, which provides him the money to pay for the land he stays on and the occasional tool for fixing his equipment. In delving into assassinations, he learned through a brutal confrontation that he is worthless in a fair fight, his muscle not helping him at all. He is silent, dangerous, and fearsome only when he is not seen. When a man attacks him whether with fist or weapon, he finds himself completely lost for ability, his muscles and mind turn to jelly, and he can only hope to flee. His only true fair fight ended with the scar on his face, and since he has relied on two tools. One is his bow, an impressive 80-90 pound beast used for launching arrows that are almost a yard long up to 75 yards. His other is a small flint knife, sharp as a razor. He uses alchemy to mix poisons for everything from temporary blindness to paralysis to death, then coats his knife or arrowheads in a generous amount before going out. His needs in life largely provided for, he has found himself wanting to know more about the mysterious camps he sees on the outskirts of town, and more about how his powers came to be....
((Goodness, that was wordy. Appy polly logies to anyone bored to death if they had to read this. Also, appy polly logies to Alice for basing a character on you. Please don't kill me in my sleep. With that, hullo other boardmates. If I forgot anything crucial, feel free to ask! Hope to have fun times with you all :D))
Name: Till
Age: around 17
Gender: Male
Gift: Silence
Personality: Fairly quiet, misanthropic, very sarcastic, generally hard to like
Appearance: Tall, wiry, with deeply tanned skin, odd reddish-brown hair, pale eyes, and an odd perpetual frown
Likes/Interests: Alchemy (the pestle-and-mortar kind), lockpicking, pickpocketing, parkour, hunting and trapping, stalking
Dislikes: Bright lights, fighting, short people, businessmen, loud noises
Long Version:
Till isn't entirely sure how old he is, and never has been. He can't remember the first few years of his life, but then who can. As best as he knows, he's somewhere around 17, but he could be older, and suspects that he might be due to his height. He was born in the mountains of Germany, and raised in the snow and crags. He was also born gifted, and his parents knew almost the second he was pushed into the world. His mouth uttered and he screamed like all newborns, yet there was no noise. His mother initially feared that he was a mute, but his father knew better. The scream was not only silent, it seemed to absorb some of the sound around him, and sure enough, when the baby made other noises, there was no sound. Eventually, as if by magic, the sound switched back on. The child grew, but even as he was only four years old, his mother grew sick with the fever and died. His mother had been gifted, and men from the lab came to pick her up. He hid in the rafters from the men, silent as can be. His father tried to stop the men in the white jackets, but as he raised his voice he was shot down. The child came down from the rafters after the men had left, collecting his few belongings. Since he has lived outside of cities, moving every so often to avoid detection before finally finding Wixham, a city that one could easily get lost in. It is here that he has stayed for the past two years, outside the walls in a small cave he calls home. He has taught himself to make a living by way of thievery, hired espionage, assassination, and other trades of the night. He stands tall, at nearly six-foot-six, and wiry, with enough muscle to move his own body but not much else. He has extremely tanned skin, though completely by birth as he almost never ventures into the daylight if he doesn't have to. He always wear a skintight suit of unknown material, dark grey in colour and soft to the touch, but seemingly quiet durable. He wears one of two cloaks depending on circumstance, one a dark, mottled gray and the other a brownish-red like the hide of a deer. The cloaks both sweep from his shoulders to his ankles, clasping in the front at his throat and collar, leaving only a small strip of his chest exposed to the elements. He always goes barefoot out of personal preference, and as a result has built up nearly a half-inch of thick, rock-hard callouses. Even in the winter when it gets chilled, he only wears woolen socks, never shoes. His hair is an oddity indeed, brown with hints of red, almost auburn, but not quiet. Despite his youth it is interspersed with patches of dark grey, almost the colour of a wolf pelt. His eyes are also strange, with one iris being deep, nearly emerald green, and the other being pale and only slightly off-white. He has a scar that runs down his face, a jagged, ugly thing extending two centimetres above his pale left eye and crossing down his cheek, ending almost level with his jaw. This side of his face is paralyzed as a result of an accident with a poison he was mixing, giving him the appearance that he always is frowning. Even when he smiles, only one side of his face moves, creating a grotesque sort of twisted smile or smirk. His only true gift is his ability to cloak himself or other objects in silence, creating a sort of void around it into which all sound vanishes. This makes him useful for stealthy operations, as now his own movement makes no sound, and he can simply will a door to not creak or a guard not to scream. Another thing is his ability to vanish. This is not a power that comes from a gift, it's not even really a power, but simply a natural stillness that comes from one accustomed to long periods of silence and avoiding detection. He stops moving and eyes seem to skip right over him... most of the time. His hobbies are all ones that he has needed to keep himself alive. He enjoys hunting and trapping for the food, clothing, and tools it can provide, and practices his own form of parkour to allow him to get around the city and forest using only his own body. He has trained himself to pick pockets with extraordinary stealth, providing income for him to use in emergency, and can pick locks quickly and efficiently, making him an excellent thief. He has several times contracted out to do corporate or private espionage, burglary, or assassinations, which provides him the money to pay for the land he stays on and the occasional tool for fixing his equipment. In delving into assassinations, he learned through a brutal confrontation that he is worthless in a fair fight, his muscle not helping him at all. He is silent, dangerous, and fearsome only when he is not seen. When a man attacks him whether with fist or weapon, he finds himself completely lost for ability, his muscles and mind turn to jelly, and he can only hope to flee. His only true fair fight ended with the scar on his face, and since he has relied on two tools. One is his bow, an impressive 80-90 pound beast used for launching arrows that are almost a yard long up to 75 yards. His other is a small flint knife, sharp as a razor. He uses alchemy to mix poisons for everything from temporary blindness to paralysis to death, then coats his knife or arrowheads in a generous amount before going out. His needs in life largely provided for, he has found himself wanting to know more about the mysterious camps he sees on the outskirts of town, and more about how his powers came to be....
((Goodness, that was wordy. Appy polly logies to anyone bored to death if they had to read this. Also, appy polly logies to Alice for basing a character on you. Please don't kill me in my sleep. With that, hullo other boardmates. If I forgot anything crucial, feel free to ask! Hope to have fun times with you all :D))