Darkhawk76
05-23-06, 01:10 PM
Pertinent information is italicized/colored. Please tell me if it's too hard to read, everything looks fine on the dark theme
Name: Kyle Delaney
Age: 23
Race: Human
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Blue
Height: 5’7”
Weight: 168 lbs
Occupation: Wanderer
“You have anything to say boy?” The rough man barks.
I cannot explain what it is that brought me to this small outpost. I cannot explain why it is that I am in this place. I cannot explain why it is that am being attacked in this alley. I cannot explain why it is that I feel so calm during this horrific moment. I cannot explain why it is that I know that my assailant will die.
I can explain that I am Kyle Delaney. I can explain that I am more than you can understand. I can explain that I know your most horrific secrets and your greatest joys.
Personality:
“Not talking? You think you’re better than me?”
I am not anything that you need to worry about. I am reserved and cold. I will bother no one if it does not help me to do so. I am not against killing those who get in my way, though.
Appearance:
“I don’t have time for games!” the rough man screams. It is all for show. “You see this knife! It’s going in your gut, if you don’t talk!”
I see nothing of import. This is an alley. The walls are brick, the ground is dirt, and you are human. I though, am something else. I’m standing here, in this alley. My brown hair is disheveled, the bangs covering eyes that are so blue they seem to glow in this gloom. My face is what many would call handsome. My features are cold though, as if they were chiseled from a block of ice. My body is slim, but the traveling has hardened it, and it has become tanned from the many miles under the sun.
I wear a white, knee-length, sleeveless tunic, faded from travel to a dull grey, that splits up to my waist. Underneath is a shirt of the same color that covers my arms. My hands are hidden behind a pair of leather gloves, my forearms covered with bracers. A hood lies around my neck, ready to be pulled up with a move of my arm. I am the executioner.
History:
The rough man is getting angry. He is not paying attention to what is going on in his own head. “WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU”RE FROM!!? YOU AREN’T SOME KING, YOU’RE AT MY MERCY!!” His calmness is falling apart.
He doesn’t need to know my life. He doesn’t need to know my sins and my triumphs. My life was like any other. I was born. I was named. I grew. I lived. Only one thing was special. I was born with a gift. It was a gift that I let flourish, one that used towards my own gains and wants. No one knew the gift was mine. They learned though. I let them learn.
They didn’t like it. The gift, they said, came from my witch of a mother. They killed her. I cared little. My mother had proven to me that she was just another woman who enjoyed the flesh. She was nothing special. The gift, they said, was allowed to flourish because of my father. They killed him. I cared none. He beat me because I was special.
They didn’t kill me though. I showed them horrors they didn’t want to see. I knew them all. I showed them the mayor’s horrific lusts. I showed them Zachariah’s love for violence and pain. I showed them Jimmy’s penchant for killing. I showed them all what they didn’t want to see. Then I left.
I traveled. I still travel. The world will know its evils. I will correct its wrongs. The evil will be shown the truth.
Skills:
The rough man is frantic. His mind is screaming at how wrong this is. His mind is loud. I hear it.
I Hear You: Kyle is able to hear a person’s thoughts. He focuses his mind, normally by thinking of something else, then enters another’s thoughts. By doing this he is able to hear what they are thinking on the surface. Given time, he can delve into their memories and their subconscious. Delving takes three posts of unbroken focus. An unconscious mind is extremely jumbled, delving into it takes five posts of unbroken focus (or an equivalent time if there is nothing going on). Only by delving can Kyle open his mind into another’s. Anyone will feel their mind being delved into if they are not under stress (being kept from feeling it). Reading a person's mind is only felt by those with acute senses.
“Do you know what it feels like, to relive all your greatest pains?”
“Talking now?!” The man is still frantic, though his voice has stopped screaming. “Too late, you’re going to die.”
“No. You’re going to scream and then die.”
He falls to the ground, screaming. He yells apologies and he prays for mercy, all to those that lived only in his head
Your Mind is a Well: Once delved into another person’s mind, Kyle open his own mind to the person. By doing this, he can call forth memories and images that the person holds in his darkest reaches. Doing so takes two posts after delving. How this affect’s the person depends on the person’s memories and images, and how troublesome or joyous these are to that person.
I walk over to my blade, thrown to the side when I was jumped by this man. I draw it from its sheath, the thin steel easily concealable. Walking over to the rough man, I plunge into his neck. He got in my. He is allowed to die.
I gather my things and run before anyone can find me, dashing down allies, and climbing over fences.
Catch Me If You Can: Kyle has learned to run. His gift is not well liked, and he is not always able to kill those in his way. So he has learned to run. He can run as fast as any man his size and is relatively agile when moving through difficult terrain.
Equipment:
As I come to a stop, reaching a safe area, I check my belongings to make sure nothing is lost. My thick leather belt is still around my waist and stomach holding the two pouches at my back still in good condition. One holds my gold and various travelers’ items. The other is empty, ready to be used at a moment’s notice.
My deadly, steel stiletto is slipped under my left bracer, my sturdy steel dagger under my right. Both are hidden in such a way that they can be slipped into my hands with relative ease.
My Blade is Thirsty: Kyle is gaining skill with the knife. At the moment, he knows how to kill with it, and nothing much else. He doesn’t try to fight with his blades, a sturdy dagger and deadly stiletto, but more tries to strike his opponent when they are unsuspecting of him. He is practicing though, and hoping to learn how to use them as tools of battle. When put to a fight, he dodges, weaves, and tries to wait for the strike to show itself.
I walk off, pulling my hood up. I become another man in the crowd, the man’s dead face added to the growing number that my mind hides from me. My gift only bares another’s soul. It does nothing to my own.
Name: Kyle Delaney
Age: 23
Race: Human
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Blue
Height: 5’7”
Weight: 168 lbs
Occupation: Wanderer
“You have anything to say boy?” The rough man barks.
I cannot explain what it is that brought me to this small outpost. I cannot explain why it is that I am in this place. I cannot explain why it is that am being attacked in this alley. I cannot explain why it is that I feel so calm during this horrific moment. I cannot explain why it is that I know that my assailant will die.
I can explain that I am Kyle Delaney. I can explain that I am more than you can understand. I can explain that I know your most horrific secrets and your greatest joys.
Personality:
“Not talking? You think you’re better than me?”
I am not anything that you need to worry about. I am reserved and cold. I will bother no one if it does not help me to do so. I am not against killing those who get in my way, though.
Appearance:
“I don’t have time for games!” the rough man screams. It is all for show. “You see this knife! It’s going in your gut, if you don’t talk!”
I see nothing of import. This is an alley. The walls are brick, the ground is dirt, and you are human. I though, am something else. I’m standing here, in this alley. My brown hair is disheveled, the bangs covering eyes that are so blue they seem to glow in this gloom. My face is what many would call handsome. My features are cold though, as if they were chiseled from a block of ice. My body is slim, but the traveling has hardened it, and it has become tanned from the many miles under the sun.
I wear a white, knee-length, sleeveless tunic, faded from travel to a dull grey, that splits up to my waist. Underneath is a shirt of the same color that covers my arms. My hands are hidden behind a pair of leather gloves, my forearms covered with bracers. A hood lies around my neck, ready to be pulled up with a move of my arm. I am the executioner.
History:
The rough man is getting angry. He is not paying attention to what is going on in his own head. “WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU”RE FROM!!? YOU AREN’T SOME KING, YOU’RE AT MY MERCY!!” His calmness is falling apart.
He doesn’t need to know my life. He doesn’t need to know my sins and my triumphs. My life was like any other. I was born. I was named. I grew. I lived. Only one thing was special. I was born with a gift. It was a gift that I let flourish, one that used towards my own gains and wants. No one knew the gift was mine. They learned though. I let them learn.
They didn’t like it. The gift, they said, came from my witch of a mother. They killed her. I cared little. My mother had proven to me that she was just another woman who enjoyed the flesh. She was nothing special. The gift, they said, was allowed to flourish because of my father. They killed him. I cared none. He beat me because I was special.
They didn’t kill me though. I showed them horrors they didn’t want to see. I knew them all. I showed them the mayor’s horrific lusts. I showed them Zachariah’s love for violence and pain. I showed them Jimmy’s penchant for killing. I showed them all what they didn’t want to see. Then I left.
I traveled. I still travel. The world will know its evils. I will correct its wrongs. The evil will be shown the truth.
Skills:
The rough man is frantic. His mind is screaming at how wrong this is. His mind is loud. I hear it.
I Hear You: Kyle is able to hear a person’s thoughts. He focuses his mind, normally by thinking of something else, then enters another’s thoughts. By doing this he is able to hear what they are thinking on the surface. Given time, he can delve into their memories and their subconscious. Delving takes three posts of unbroken focus. An unconscious mind is extremely jumbled, delving into it takes five posts of unbroken focus (or an equivalent time if there is nothing going on). Only by delving can Kyle open his mind into another’s. Anyone will feel their mind being delved into if they are not under stress (being kept from feeling it). Reading a person's mind is only felt by those with acute senses.
“Do you know what it feels like, to relive all your greatest pains?”
“Talking now?!” The man is still frantic, though his voice has stopped screaming. “Too late, you’re going to die.”
“No. You’re going to scream and then die.”
He falls to the ground, screaming. He yells apologies and he prays for mercy, all to those that lived only in his head
Your Mind is a Well: Once delved into another person’s mind, Kyle open his own mind to the person. By doing this, he can call forth memories and images that the person holds in his darkest reaches. Doing so takes two posts after delving. How this affect’s the person depends on the person’s memories and images, and how troublesome or joyous these are to that person.
I walk over to my blade, thrown to the side when I was jumped by this man. I draw it from its sheath, the thin steel easily concealable. Walking over to the rough man, I plunge into his neck. He got in my. He is allowed to die.
I gather my things and run before anyone can find me, dashing down allies, and climbing over fences.
Catch Me If You Can: Kyle has learned to run. His gift is not well liked, and he is not always able to kill those in his way. So he has learned to run. He can run as fast as any man his size and is relatively agile when moving through difficult terrain.
Equipment:
As I come to a stop, reaching a safe area, I check my belongings to make sure nothing is lost. My thick leather belt is still around my waist and stomach holding the two pouches at my back still in good condition. One holds my gold and various travelers’ items. The other is empty, ready to be used at a moment’s notice.
My deadly, steel stiletto is slipped under my left bracer, my sturdy steel dagger under my right. Both are hidden in such a way that they can be slipped into my hands with relative ease.
My Blade is Thirsty: Kyle is gaining skill with the knife. At the moment, he knows how to kill with it, and nothing much else. He doesn’t try to fight with his blades, a sturdy dagger and deadly stiletto, but more tries to strike his opponent when they are unsuspecting of him. He is practicing though, and hoping to learn how to use them as tools of battle. When put to a fight, he dodges, weaves, and tries to wait for the strike to show itself.
I walk off, pulling my hood up. I become another man in the crowd, the man’s dead face added to the growing number that my mind hides from me. My gift only bares another’s soul. It does nothing to my own.