Proof that an ego can be larger than its container

[Culix]

This is Jannin's first and... well, only profile. EXP... Let's see... 100 at sign-up, 600 from 'A new face on a slow day,' and... somewhere between 452 and 652 (I recall those specific numbers because I remember being irked that... umm... my EXP total wasn't the most aesthetically pleasing...) from 'Mystery Matchup,' so... 1152 to 1352 EXP. I'll trust whoever approves me to give me what they think is fair. Gold is easier; whatever the starting amount was plus 60 from 'A new face on a slow day.'

It is soooo good to be back!

Name: Jannin Relm
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 15
Height: 4'3"
Weight: 88 lb.
Hair Color: Light purple
Eye Color: Green

Appearance:

"Ahhah! I know that look! You think I'm 11 years old, don'cha? Wrong! I'm 15, and don't you forget it! But, don't worry; I'm willing to overlook it if you marvel at my awesomely cool threads. ... Well? Get to marveling, peasant!"
-- Jannin, accosting a random streetgoer

Jannin's wine-colored hair reaches just beyond his shoulders in the back while the front halts right above his eye level. Over his shrimpy physique he wears a light blue sleeved tunic, jammed messily, though almost unnoticeably, into his gray, comfortable pants. The pants are, in turn, tucked into his light brown leather shoes. The midnight blue mantle draped across his hardly muscular shoulders extends to only a few inches above the ground. His boyish face almost always sports a cheerful grin.

Personality:

"Dirty, rotten kid... The little punk barges in here, eats a coupla bowls of soup, then jumps on one of my tables with his dirty shoes! Then he just starts goin' on and on about how we're all lucky to have hosted the world's future ruler! Then, the bloody munchkin runs out without paying!"
-- Restaurant owner, on Jannin

'Jannin thinks quite highly of himself' is an understatement. Prior to obtaining the title of 'world ruler' he believes he deserves, and likely as a means to that end, he aspires to be the leader of some sort of villainous outfit. Despite his malevolent goals, he seems to have very few qualms with performing good deeds; typically his explanation is that it will 'keep the people alive long enough to see his reign of terror' or that it will 'make the moment he turns to the dark side all the more dramatic.' Further, he seems more concerned with mastering the 'cool' mannerisms of villains (maniacal laughter, for instance) than acquiring the skills to actually be villainous. Though he often acts foolish and naive, he has a rather impressive intellect for one his age. He acts with little if any rhyme or reason, quite often doing things solely because they seem like fun. These facts lead most to believe that he's nothing more than a starry-eyed punk without a clue. However, the fervor with which he pursues his nigh impossible goals is almost inspiring to some.

Weapons: Yew staff with large, but practically valueless, gem at its peak

"So, you wanna know why I bother to have a big, cheap jewel in my staff. Well, other than looking really cool, I've mastered a new level of spellsmanship! That gem's pretty cheap, but I've turned it into a magical conduit! Why, the only reason you'll never see me use it is 'cause the amount of power it'd unlock would even scare me!"
-- Jannin, lying about his staff

Armor: Clothing; mantle, sleeved tunic, pants, shoes

"Hey! Where are you going? Get back here and marvel! I spent a long time selecting this outfit! It's the coolest one ever, and you're simply going to pass it by without a good marvel? Fine! Give me your name! When I rule the world, you'll be the first to go! ... There. That's better. Heh... You've just put a nail in your own coffin, I. P. Freely..."
-- Jannin, accosting a random streetgoer, continued

Items: Food rations, book of plots and spells, hair brush, tooth brush, mirror

"This book is vital to my endeavors; it contains all the spells I learn, as well as all the nefarious plots I cook up. As for the other things... It may seem somewhat lame, but it's the price I pay for the path I walk. Anyone can learn how to fling globes of pure death or summon an army of bloodthirsty wolfmen at any time in their life. However, getting the right look for when you're doing it requires incredible attention to one's hair and dental hygiene right now. I suppose I could use the mirror to house the souls of my fallen enemies, but... then I'd have to contend with their moans whenever I want a touch-up."
-- Jannin, on his inventory

Skills:

- Cool-looking Staff Technique
"Ha ha! Cower before my awe-inspiring maneuvers! ... See? Against me, you haven't a chance!"

Jannin's not exactly bad with a staff, but his impressive-looking maneuvers are mostly just that: impressive-looking. They emphasize style over substance, so all who engage Jannin in close combat have little to worry about.

- Maniacal Laughter
"Fwua ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

Few would consider this a skill worth learning, but Jannin has all but mastered it. The way his normally rather high-pitched voice becomes a deep baritone is unnerving to say the least. Upon hearing it, quite a few people have fled, believing the child to be possessed and boosting Jannin's already bloated ego.

- Fireball
"Let's face facts: ya can't be a villainous mage and not know how to throw a fireball."

This is one of the few spells that Jannin actually paid attention to in his magic classes. However, like much about Jannin, it's flashier than it is actually dangerous. The orbs of flame are about 6 inches in diameter and, provided they hit, will sting the target quite a bit and singe whatever they touch before dying out. He can fling about five of these before he's drained enough to require several minutes of rest. Of course, if one comes into contact with a highly flammable chemical, combustion is usually guaranteed.

History:

"Jannin!" a woman's voice called. "Yes, mom?" Jannin answered, pulling himself to his feet and turning to the voice's source. "Come in for dinner!" it came again. The young man nodded, despite the lack of eyes to see him, and closed his book of plots and spells. He would finish the idea for his 'Love-Powered Golem of DOOM!!' at a later time. He stretched his arms and legs a bit, and then began walking across the few hills that separated him from his home.

Not long after, he sat at the dinner table, his mother Sonya across from him, while his father Derrick and elder sister Jorina sat on his sides. Before him, part of a roasted water fowl lay upon his plate, prompting a bit of drool to drip down his chin. Knowing the yelling that he would face if he dug in before his father had said grace, he restrained himself while the middle-aged man thanked some almighty being for this and that.

"Amen," he said along with his family, and then began consuming the delectable bird. After several minutes, his father asked, "So, how was your day, son?"
"Oh, it was great. I'm really starting to get the hang of that Fireball spell now. Everybody in the school still thinks I'm weird and creepy, but the teacher said he was impressed with how it’s coming along. Even better is that the evil plans I've got in mind for unsealing some long lost power of the ancients and using the power of compassion to further the cause of devastation are really starting to take shape."
"Do you really have to say things like that?" his sister asked, rolling her eyes. "Why not?" he replied innocently, "Mom and Dad always taught us to tell the truth."
"What your sister means, dear, is that we worry about you," his mother clarified, while calmly cutting her food. "I mean, sure, the dark arts may seem glamorous and all, but, eventually, a handful of people with kind hearts and no clear direction in life are bound to come along and defeat you. It's a story as old as time itself."
"Your mother's right, Jannin," the father of the family piped up, pausing to take a sip from his glass of wine, "Why don't you give up on those dreams of world conquest via devious means and take up a reliable occupation. Like... accounting."
"Your father does make a good point," his mother agreed. "I've only heard of a few accountants being defeated by a handful of people with kind hearts and no clear direction in life."

"Hmm..." Jannin contemplated. "I don't think so. Accounting just seems so... excruciatingly drab. That's all."
"Oh," his sister chimed in, again rolling her eyes, "And world domination is sooo interesting..."
"Now that's enough, you two," their father said, frowning. "I'm willing to permit talk of these plans, but prompting your cynical teenage sister to make a sarcastic remark is something I won't stand for! Jannin, you have three days with none of the extra fluffy cushions!"
Jannin gasped; never had his father levied so strict a punishment against him. "But dad, I--"
"No buts, young man," the man interrupted sternly. "You're going to spend those three days thinking long and hard of ways to cleanse the evil from your mind."
"Now, dear," Sonya interjected, "Considering that 'good' and 'evil' are such relative and abstract concepts, I think that's too harsh." After a pause that seemed to be done solely for effect, she turned to her son and continued, "Jannin, you have four days without those cushions in which to grasp and adjust those concepts within your being."
As Jannin sat aghast, Jorina laughed and made a face at him. "Better make it six," Derrick said again. "I think that may have pushed you a little closer to the dark side."
As the boy's astonishment and annoyance continued to grow, his sister whined, "Oh, but daddy... One more and it'll stop being measured in days..."
"Alright, sweety," the mother said in a honeyed tone, "We'll make it a solid week."

Jannin's look of horror remained for a bit longer. "Alright, Mom, Dad, and Sis," he said, nodding. Swallowing the remainder of the meat, he asked them, "May I be excused?"
"Of course you can, son," the father said, cordially. "Just remember to stop plotting evil," his mother advised, speaking as though she were reminding him to take out the garbage. "And stay off the extra fluffy cushions," Jorina added, not bothering to look up. Jannin thanked them, and then went to his room, snagging some fruit from the kitchen.
Once in his chambers, he opened his bag and loaded into it the fruit, his book of plots and spells, and a few other essentials, namely his mirror, hairbrush and toothbrush. Satisfied, and with staff in hand, he hopped out of the window. He landed with a thud, and began walking down the path that would take him the hell away from there.

As it happened, he passed the window across from his sister as he went. She spied him and plainly told her parents, "I think Jannin's running away from home." Her mother turned and saw this to be true. "Ah," she said, "So he is." Derrick shrugged. "Oh, don't worry about it. He'll come back in a year or two." The remainder of the family nodded at this and continued their meal.

Jannin began humming a cheery tune as he walked away with no destination in mind. He briefly wondered if the level of insanity he had grown up with explained the way he acted, but stopped when he realized he didn't actually care.

[Cyrus the virus]

Approved, heheh. I remember reading this the first time