Laramie
03-10-08, 09:02 AM
Name: Laramie Melano Brillantes
Age: 18
Race: Human
Occupation: Former fisherman
Appearance
Laramie is physically unassuming, at an average height and slight build. He weighs more than he seems to. His brown hair is just a little messy, and the sides are the longest parts, falling over his ears and almost brushing against his collarbone. He wears an open necked white shirt with long sleeves that almost cover his gloved worker's hands. The gloves are black and fingerless, and made of rough cloth. His pants are baggy and a dark brown, and are clasped at the front by a leather belt through their loops. The buckle is an average and made of iron. It is not shiny. He wears his work boots from the dock. They are not polished and black.
Abilities:
(Severely) Limited Photosynthesis
After spending time under the sun, Laramie's spirits are boosted. He doesn't quite sustain nourishment or gain any power by doing so, but being outside on a cloudless day makes Laramie considerably better-tempered and sharper of wit and reflex. He retains these abilities out of sunlight for about half as long as he spent in the sun (10 minutes in bright sunlight = 5 minutes of noticeable difference in darkness).
Natural Genius
Laramie is a person of great intelligence, who shows an exceptional natural capacity of intellect, especially as shown in creative and original work. He always shows strong imagination, and is not only intelligent, but unique and innovative. If Laramie expresses the desire to learn something, he does so with considerably less effort and difficulty than a person of average mental capacity.
Comfort in Heat
Laramie is able to comfortably exist in heat upwards of about 60 degrees Celsius, or 140 degrees fahrenheit. Upwards of that threshold, and he begins to sweat and become uncomfortable as a normal person would in normal heat. Fire and other exceedingly hot surfaces and materials still burn him, but he has a miniscule resistance to magics composed of fire and/or light.
Fishing
As a result of the years spent at the docks working under his father as a tuna fisherman, Laramie has become quite the fisherman. Lacking materials, he can, after some unwilling work, rig a net, pole, or cage from materials found on hand. He is no stranger to the gentle art of fishing, and what he lacks in enthusiasm, he makes up for in patience. Luckily for Laramie, he loves the taste of fish, especially tuna, and though he hates the process of cleaning and cooking fish, he can do so without taking major issue.
Personality: If you met him, you'd instantly like him. Something about Laramie's calm brown eyes makes you want to be his friend. He approaches many of the strange things he encounters with an inquisitive smile, rather than a frown. However, he is extremely lazy. He spends most of his free time napping or reading, and is rarely motivated to achieve anything. He is somewhat eccentric, and extremely brilliant. He pursues the artistic aspects of life as hobbies, and has at least rudimentary skills in the fields of art and music. His singing voice isn't tear-inspiring, but still noteworthy. He cracks his knuckles when he is nervous. His favourite animal is the great blue heron.
Possessions: In a pocket inside of his shirt, he keeps three things in one small flat box, which is a battered old tin contraption with rusty hinges.
The Tobacco Box
Laramie loves to smoke, and is too young yet to have developed a cough, and he does not spit. He never seems to run out though, and this peculiar box is why. When opened, the insides of the box are revealed to have three sections, containing a stapled stack of cigarette papers, a paper packet of smoking tobacco, and a book of paper matches. Laramie has gotten quite good at rolling smokes, after 5 years of the habit, and can produce a machine-rolled quality cigarette in a matter of seconds. The peculiarity of the box is a subtle thing, as Laramie hasn't even discovered it yet. He may never, on account of his forgetful and lazy nature. He found the box in a drawer full of his mother's old things, and rolled his first square that day. The papers, matches and tobacco have stayed in that box for years untold, and remain there to this day. They never run out. The number of papers in the stack might get thinner, and the number of matches in the book is never quite the same from day to day, but Laramie never seems to reach the last pinch of tobacco, or roll the last paper, or strike the last match. If taken out of box, and tested, a person of curious disposition would find that the papers and tobacco simply do not burn from any source of flame except the matches in the box.
History
His name is Laramie Brillantes. His last name is Spanish but that's the only part of him that is. He was an accident. Laramie's father made a lot of mistakes, but having him was the worst; somehow, he stuck around. Maybe it was guilt that made him stay, maybe not. And poor Mena. Mena carried Laramie inside her for months. Almost nine of them, until the last day of her life. Poor Mena.
Labour lasted for eight hours, contractions coming and going like red tides of pain that started in the lower parts of her gut, then expanding like cracks in an imperfect pane of glass, racing through her network of nerves and subsiding as her fingernails bit into the taut flesh of her hands, or her teeth ground together and cut her lips. After each torrent of pain, there was mild relief, then eventual fear of the next. And the next always came. And then the baby was ready to come. He came almost too easily, and Mena's midwife almost wasn't ready for him. Nevertheless, into her chubby arms he slid, and as he opened his tiny eyes and issued forth his first yowl of indignation at being so cold so abruptly, his mother began to die.
Cut to 18 years later. Laramie's dad is still around, and so is Laramie. They've managed to survive with each other's company, but surviving is about as far as it goes. They each work at the docks, and have little in the way of company at the workplace. The bell rings at 5 every day, and so they come home to their flat in Scara Brae and live the rest of their day out in separate rooms. Laramie never has much in the way of friends. There's been a bunch of the average friends, but the townspeople bore Laramie as much as pretty much everything else that surrounds him. Conversation at dinner is always short and awkward. Each day is the same, until the day Laramie leaves. His mind grows restless, until he finds the will in him to round up his few belongings and make a dash for the horizon. He does not leave a note.
This is Laramie's story. He stays a while, just a step from the door, just long enough to spark a match and light a cigarette, and hits the road with the wind at his back.
Well I think that should do it. Please let me know if i forgot something, and I will add it quickly! Also, I'm sorry for the short backstory, and if it came off as a bit too Hemingway, but it felt better short. Hopefully I'll be able to add more to it soon as he has some experiences! Thanks in advance for taking a look.
Age: 18
Race: Human
Occupation: Former fisherman
Appearance
Laramie is physically unassuming, at an average height and slight build. He weighs more than he seems to. His brown hair is just a little messy, and the sides are the longest parts, falling over his ears and almost brushing against his collarbone. He wears an open necked white shirt with long sleeves that almost cover his gloved worker's hands. The gloves are black and fingerless, and made of rough cloth. His pants are baggy and a dark brown, and are clasped at the front by a leather belt through their loops. The buckle is an average and made of iron. It is not shiny. He wears his work boots from the dock. They are not polished and black.
Abilities:
(Severely) Limited Photosynthesis
After spending time under the sun, Laramie's spirits are boosted. He doesn't quite sustain nourishment or gain any power by doing so, but being outside on a cloudless day makes Laramie considerably better-tempered and sharper of wit and reflex. He retains these abilities out of sunlight for about half as long as he spent in the sun (10 minutes in bright sunlight = 5 minutes of noticeable difference in darkness).
Natural Genius
Laramie is a person of great intelligence, who shows an exceptional natural capacity of intellect, especially as shown in creative and original work. He always shows strong imagination, and is not only intelligent, but unique and innovative. If Laramie expresses the desire to learn something, he does so with considerably less effort and difficulty than a person of average mental capacity.
Comfort in Heat
Laramie is able to comfortably exist in heat upwards of about 60 degrees Celsius, or 140 degrees fahrenheit. Upwards of that threshold, and he begins to sweat and become uncomfortable as a normal person would in normal heat. Fire and other exceedingly hot surfaces and materials still burn him, but he has a miniscule resistance to magics composed of fire and/or light.
Fishing
As a result of the years spent at the docks working under his father as a tuna fisherman, Laramie has become quite the fisherman. Lacking materials, he can, after some unwilling work, rig a net, pole, or cage from materials found on hand. He is no stranger to the gentle art of fishing, and what he lacks in enthusiasm, he makes up for in patience. Luckily for Laramie, he loves the taste of fish, especially tuna, and though he hates the process of cleaning and cooking fish, he can do so without taking major issue.
Personality: If you met him, you'd instantly like him. Something about Laramie's calm brown eyes makes you want to be his friend. He approaches many of the strange things he encounters with an inquisitive smile, rather than a frown. However, he is extremely lazy. He spends most of his free time napping or reading, and is rarely motivated to achieve anything. He is somewhat eccentric, and extremely brilliant. He pursues the artistic aspects of life as hobbies, and has at least rudimentary skills in the fields of art and music. His singing voice isn't tear-inspiring, but still noteworthy. He cracks his knuckles when he is nervous. His favourite animal is the great blue heron.
Possessions: In a pocket inside of his shirt, he keeps three things in one small flat box, which is a battered old tin contraption with rusty hinges.
The Tobacco Box
Laramie loves to smoke, and is too young yet to have developed a cough, and he does not spit. He never seems to run out though, and this peculiar box is why. When opened, the insides of the box are revealed to have three sections, containing a stapled stack of cigarette papers, a paper packet of smoking tobacco, and a book of paper matches. Laramie has gotten quite good at rolling smokes, after 5 years of the habit, and can produce a machine-rolled quality cigarette in a matter of seconds. The peculiarity of the box is a subtle thing, as Laramie hasn't even discovered it yet. He may never, on account of his forgetful and lazy nature. He found the box in a drawer full of his mother's old things, and rolled his first square that day. The papers, matches and tobacco have stayed in that box for years untold, and remain there to this day. They never run out. The number of papers in the stack might get thinner, and the number of matches in the book is never quite the same from day to day, but Laramie never seems to reach the last pinch of tobacco, or roll the last paper, or strike the last match. If taken out of box, and tested, a person of curious disposition would find that the papers and tobacco simply do not burn from any source of flame except the matches in the box.
History
His name is Laramie Brillantes. His last name is Spanish but that's the only part of him that is. He was an accident. Laramie's father made a lot of mistakes, but having him was the worst; somehow, he stuck around. Maybe it was guilt that made him stay, maybe not. And poor Mena. Mena carried Laramie inside her for months. Almost nine of them, until the last day of her life. Poor Mena.
Labour lasted for eight hours, contractions coming and going like red tides of pain that started in the lower parts of her gut, then expanding like cracks in an imperfect pane of glass, racing through her network of nerves and subsiding as her fingernails bit into the taut flesh of her hands, or her teeth ground together and cut her lips. After each torrent of pain, there was mild relief, then eventual fear of the next. And the next always came. And then the baby was ready to come. He came almost too easily, and Mena's midwife almost wasn't ready for him. Nevertheless, into her chubby arms he slid, and as he opened his tiny eyes and issued forth his first yowl of indignation at being so cold so abruptly, his mother began to die.
Cut to 18 years later. Laramie's dad is still around, and so is Laramie. They've managed to survive with each other's company, but surviving is about as far as it goes. They each work at the docks, and have little in the way of company at the workplace. The bell rings at 5 every day, and so they come home to their flat in Scara Brae and live the rest of their day out in separate rooms. Laramie never has much in the way of friends. There's been a bunch of the average friends, but the townspeople bore Laramie as much as pretty much everything else that surrounds him. Conversation at dinner is always short and awkward. Each day is the same, until the day Laramie leaves. His mind grows restless, until he finds the will in him to round up his few belongings and make a dash for the horizon. He does not leave a note.
This is Laramie's story. He stays a while, just a step from the door, just long enough to spark a match and light a cigarette, and hits the road with the wind at his back.
Well I think that should do it. Please let me know if i forgot something, and I will add it quickly! Also, I'm sorry for the short backstory, and if it came off as a bit too Hemingway, but it felt better short. Hopefully I'll be able to add more to it soon as he has some experiences! Thanks in advance for taking a look.