Rogue Virus
12-23-07, 01:26 AM
Name: Felicity Ada
Age: 477 (Appears mid-twenties and though the years will increase, her look will never change)
Race: Human Defect ('Affectionately' named for the several hundred individuals that could no longer be called 'normal' after various spells/experiments)
Hair Color: Dark Brown with a red underlayer
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 140
Occupation: Apothecary and Vagabond
Personality: For a female whose name means happiness, Felicity is not one to have a smile spread over her soft lips. Never having friends, or much contact with anyone besides those she met at sword point, she will not be very pleasant to anyone who sticks around longer than they need to be, male and female alike. Felicity makes an attempt from time to time to befriend those, or at least acquaint those, that seem intriguing enough. She is more mysterious than anything, quiet and sometimes cryptic, only because human interaction isn't something she had since she was so young. Sarcasm is very often dripping from the words coming out of her mouth. Felicity is not rude, though not polite. She is apathetic. She feels that an individual must prove that they might actually be worth having attention given to them. It's only been 477 years - times change. Felicity... might.
Appearance: An average height, semi-paled skin young (looking) woman would haphazardly describe the person someone would see when they laid eyes on Felicity. Her nose is small, though it fits perfectly with the sharpness of her facial features. Her dark brown hair, that falls to her mid-back, is often falling over one of her dark brown orbs, usually on the left side (her left). A form-fitting black, long-sleeved shirt covers Felicity's abs, mid-section, and breasts (mostly), as well as two black tattoos on either of her wrists. One stands for who she was. One stands for who she is. Covering the bottom part of her body is more black, a pair of pants, soft and steady cloth, though looser; a bit of the flare at the bottom. The flare partially covers a pair of black boots. On her back rest a pair of broadswords; the hilts peek just over her shoulders. All of the black makes her blend into the background, which she prefers since just listening, Felicity is able to learn so much.
History: With the exception of a single skill, Felicity Ada could not remember anything past the day she unwillingly joined the ranks of the Human Defects. Not even her family's surname. The family she assumes she once had, since she had to have come from somewhere. The most distant memories include those of black, starry nights, random mumbling of ancient texts, red adorning her hair, and a newfound ability she never had: superbly wielding two broadswords, as if they were made especially for her, made to match her weight and height. For years, Felicity tried to piece together anything that would answer questions as to why she woke alone in a small tent, broadswords next to her, as well as a knapsack and crudely sewn blanket. Upon stepping out, seeing other tents now in ashes, burned, a body here and there, completely naked, cold... dead. Nothing came. Nothing was ringing, nothing made any sense. Not even the tattoo on her wrist, one she had discovered while washing in a nearby stream shortly after leaving the tent. It was an odd symbol, something she had never seen. She noticed that the dead bodies were also adorned with the same symbol.
There was nothing for her where she was, whatever she was, whoever she was, and Felicity made her way to nowhere. In those same years, Felicity noticed something else. It had been over ten years and she had not, physically, grown one day older. Her body had not grown taller, larger, filled with age lines, or felt her bones become any more achy. Yet one more amazement she could not answer. It fascinated and angered her all at the same time. Since the day she awoke, Felicity counted that as her first day alive; she couldn't remember anything before that. Thievery became trite and boring after years, but she had no choice until something better came up. She became a vagabond, wandering, living day by day off the customers she received. For hundreds of years, her memory was the same black abyss and all she could do was live day to day and create her own ideas of who she was and what had happened that made her who she was now.
Skills: Besides having a viperous tongue for wit and sarcasm, Felicity has an above average swordsmanship ability. She seemed to acquire it, along with two broadswords that she wears on her back, during the time before she was labeled as a Human Defect. The spells, or training, or experiments, whatever Felicity had been involved in, seemed to mold her into an avid and advanced swordplayer. The skill is beyond natural ability, obviously having come from some source of unnatural creation. One broadsword in itself is difficult to hold and handle; holding and handling two comes from the strength that came with the skill. However, the strength is not a uniformed one. The 'superhuman' strength only presents itself in time to use the blades. Felicity is, bluntly, better than the other widely-varied skilled swordplayer's she has come into contact with, the ones that at least look her age, but dubbed only above average by the majority. So she stays until more opportunities arise where she can prove herself. Or the pile of dead bodies keep growing.
She also has a natural ability to create effective potions and poisons, though she does not know that, yet. In the life she knew before becoming who is she, now, Felicity was able to make poisons that had done their job in the specified amount of time she'd been asked to make them, ranging from a few seconds to a few hours. In certain areas, Felicity had gained a reputation for being better than their resident apothecary, those which had been in the business for years, had the trade passed to them, those much older than she. Because of this, she had frequented those areas when she could. In other area's she had visited, some had even recognized her from word of mouth. Hopefully as time passes, she will relearn her greatest ability.
Though not a skill, something obviously done to her by man, Felicity does not age. Years will pass, though she will never physically feel it.
Equipment: Two steel broadswords, a steel dagger, and a knapsack, empty potion bottles, a blanket, and a cloak.
Age: 477 (Appears mid-twenties and though the years will increase, her look will never change)
Race: Human Defect ('Affectionately' named for the several hundred individuals that could no longer be called 'normal' after various spells/experiments)
Hair Color: Dark Brown with a red underlayer
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 140
Occupation: Apothecary and Vagabond
Personality: For a female whose name means happiness, Felicity is not one to have a smile spread over her soft lips. Never having friends, or much contact with anyone besides those she met at sword point, she will not be very pleasant to anyone who sticks around longer than they need to be, male and female alike. Felicity makes an attempt from time to time to befriend those, or at least acquaint those, that seem intriguing enough. She is more mysterious than anything, quiet and sometimes cryptic, only because human interaction isn't something she had since she was so young. Sarcasm is very often dripping from the words coming out of her mouth. Felicity is not rude, though not polite. She is apathetic. She feels that an individual must prove that they might actually be worth having attention given to them. It's only been 477 years - times change. Felicity... might.
Appearance: An average height, semi-paled skin young (looking) woman would haphazardly describe the person someone would see when they laid eyes on Felicity. Her nose is small, though it fits perfectly with the sharpness of her facial features. Her dark brown hair, that falls to her mid-back, is often falling over one of her dark brown orbs, usually on the left side (her left). A form-fitting black, long-sleeved shirt covers Felicity's abs, mid-section, and breasts (mostly), as well as two black tattoos on either of her wrists. One stands for who she was. One stands for who she is. Covering the bottom part of her body is more black, a pair of pants, soft and steady cloth, though looser; a bit of the flare at the bottom. The flare partially covers a pair of black boots. On her back rest a pair of broadswords; the hilts peek just over her shoulders. All of the black makes her blend into the background, which she prefers since just listening, Felicity is able to learn so much.
History: With the exception of a single skill, Felicity Ada could not remember anything past the day she unwillingly joined the ranks of the Human Defects. Not even her family's surname. The family she assumes she once had, since she had to have come from somewhere. The most distant memories include those of black, starry nights, random mumbling of ancient texts, red adorning her hair, and a newfound ability she never had: superbly wielding two broadswords, as if they were made especially for her, made to match her weight and height. For years, Felicity tried to piece together anything that would answer questions as to why she woke alone in a small tent, broadswords next to her, as well as a knapsack and crudely sewn blanket. Upon stepping out, seeing other tents now in ashes, burned, a body here and there, completely naked, cold... dead. Nothing came. Nothing was ringing, nothing made any sense. Not even the tattoo on her wrist, one she had discovered while washing in a nearby stream shortly after leaving the tent. It was an odd symbol, something she had never seen. She noticed that the dead bodies were also adorned with the same symbol.
There was nothing for her where she was, whatever she was, whoever she was, and Felicity made her way to nowhere. In those same years, Felicity noticed something else. It had been over ten years and she had not, physically, grown one day older. Her body had not grown taller, larger, filled with age lines, or felt her bones become any more achy. Yet one more amazement she could not answer. It fascinated and angered her all at the same time. Since the day she awoke, Felicity counted that as her first day alive; she couldn't remember anything before that. Thievery became trite and boring after years, but she had no choice until something better came up. She became a vagabond, wandering, living day by day off the customers she received. For hundreds of years, her memory was the same black abyss and all she could do was live day to day and create her own ideas of who she was and what had happened that made her who she was now.
Skills: Besides having a viperous tongue for wit and sarcasm, Felicity has an above average swordsmanship ability. She seemed to acquire it, along with two broadswords that she wears on her back, during the time before she was labeled as a Human Defect. The spells, or training, or experiments, whatever Felicity had been involved in, seemed to mold her into an avid and advanced swordplayer. The skill is beyond natural ability, obviously having come from some source of unnatural creation. One broadsword in itself is difficult to hold and handle; holding and handling two comes from the strength that came with the skill. However, the strength is not a uniformed one. The 'superhuman' strength only presents itself in time to use the blades. Felicity is, bluntly, better than the other widely-varied skilled swordplayer's she has come into contact with, the ones that at least look her age, but dubbed only above average by the majority. So she stays until more opportunities arise where she can prove herself. Or the pile of dead bodies keep growing.
She also has a natural ability to create effective potions and poisons, though she does not know that, yet. In the life she knew before becoming who is she, now, Felicity was able to make poisons that had done their job in the specified amount of time she'd been asked to make them, ranging from a few seconds to a few hours. In certain areas, Felicity had gained a reputation for being better than their resident apothecary, those which had been in the business for years, had the trade passed to them, those much older than she. Because of this, she had frequented those areas when she could. In other area's she had visited, some had even recognized her from word of mouth. Hopefully as time passes, she will relearn her greatest ability.
Though not a skill, something obviously done to her by man, Felicity does not age. Years will pass, though she will never physically feel it.
Equipment: Two steel broadswords, a steel dagger, and a knapsack, empty potion bottles, a blanket, and a cloak.