Stitch
05-05-08, 06:54 PM
Name: Stitch (Real name unknown.)
Age: 27
Race: Human
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Black
Height: 5'10
Weight: 176
Occupation: Assassin
Personality: I am considered unfriendly and freakish by most, which would be an accurate description in the eyes of many. I am unusually cold and quite, hiding most emotion from my face. This is mostly a result of closing my mouth with my stitches day after day, as when one is betrayed the use of words, most other emotion goes with it. I rarely communicate with anyone, and when I do, I use short and simple motions, or write. Even that is rare though, so even to friends I may have, I come off as cold and distant, perhaps a bit demonic or intimidating because of my looks.
Inside of the skin, I am quiet as well. My thoughts do not span very far, as I know my place, and accept that place. I live moment by moment, and do not have any massive views on life or death, or anything very deep, I merely let my thoughts span moments, and let them rise and flux whenever they will. I speak whatever comes to mind if I feel like speaking it. Spotanious and random, perhaps.
I live my life for my own pleasure, for the pleasure of a quick kill, for the pleasure and pain I inflict upon my own self. Perhaps in time a new goal will come, but for now, that is enough, and keeps me saited. I do not need anything but these pleasures, of blood and pain, and these pleasures are enough to keep me happy, and alive. I carry out these pleasures in a way deemed tasteful to me. Friends and family have faded away into nothing, although they still exist. I simply do not reveal to them this self of mine.
Appearance: The first thing you would notice about me would be my mouth. Every single morning, I unstitch the threads I have sewn through it on the previous day, reset my mouth in a position of my choice, and stitch it back closed. Black thread holds my lips shut, and I go through this every single morning, every single day. My head is shaven close, but you can see black stubble covering it in a fine coat. My eyes are pure black, resembling those of a demon, some say. My eyelids have scars in them from where I sometimes sew my eyes shut with the same thick black thread that I use for my lips.
I have muscled arms, thin and banded muscle, not the bulk and brute strength of some kind of body builder. My chest and legs retain this muscle build, which accounts my slim looks adding up to a 175 pound weight. I have various tattoo's on my body, of various words written in a cursive script. "Death", "Checkmate", "Pawn", "Traitor", and other such depressing words being the content of my body. I can usually be found wearing black clothes, whatever those particular clothes may be, that changes from day to day.
History: I was born into a normal family. Nothing in my childhood was demented or twisted, nothing to bring me into the way I am. I was blessed with a wonderful mother and father, who still love me to this day, and a older brother. The family that we had was a secure and loving one. We had a nice house, both of my parents had well paying jobs, and we had food on the table. Indeed, back then, everything was quite simple. The dementia and the lust for death, blood, and pain was something that my own mind concocted, with no outside influence, I believe. It was something that had been resting in my brain since birth, and I think it was just time to bring it to birth.
The desire first began when I was thirteen. I craved pain. I don't know how to explain this, it just happened. I was a fairly innocent young man, well bred and well schooled, looking at a bright future. I don't know why this sudden lust within my heart did not scare me, but somehow, I accepted it quite naturally. Don't ask me to explain it, I can't. Even with my future wide ahead of me, I went in pursuit of this new craving. Cutting seemed to be something of a crude art, not a way to pursue at all, so I turn to tattooing. This was a bit more tasteful in my young mind, for it did bring pain and sometimes blood, but wasn't too crude, and was also something of an art. I began getting several of these tattoo's, and although my parents worried, they allowed it.
I aced all of my schooling, and was sent away to college. This was the first time everything began to slowly go downhill, in most minds. The carriage that was driving me to this school, quite far away from my home town, never got there. In the back of this carriage, I was experimenting with a new pain, and found it. I sewed my lips together, for a permanent pain. There is no meaning behind it, I just liked the look, and craved the pain. And then, I craved the blood. So, in this craving, I made my mind. I did not want the life of a normal man. I wanted to live my lust.
I killed the carriage man. He was the first obstacle, for he was the one who would take me off to this life I did not want to lead. I killed him and hid his body, and continued on. I ran, fled, whisked myself away to the closest town. I was not tormented by what I did, I just did not know what to do next. Random killings were too crude, and held no art. The killing I had commited had a reason, and had brought satisfaction, but not for long. I wanted more. But I did not want it to be like an animal.
Therefor, I sold myself. I found the dankest corners of towns, the dirtiest pits, and offered myself up. First, as a pit fighter. When that grew stale, I took my training that was gained there and went forth in these circles, and offered myself as something else. An trained assassin. This was something I could live for. I trained myself, and sometimes trained under other assassins, gaining martial arts that would help me. I found out how to move silently, how to kill with the flick of a blade, how to plunge my fingers into points on the leg that would cripple a person, then plunge into the ribs to puncture them. I continued to tattoo and sew myself, bringing myself pain, and pleasuring in my killings. I trained, I killed, I lived for this. I was nothing but a tool of the people who was hiring me. I had no other potential, no want to be anything more.
However, someone else did think so. Someone had saw something in me, if with their own powers, or with the abilities that they had themselves, or perhaps with the knowledge of what I have done in my life. I usually don't hide it. So now, I venture forth into a bit more of a life. I still write letters to my parents, brother, and friends. They still believe I am the man I once was, believe I am in school, or perhaps graduated. But now, a new life has opened. A life known as the Audaemus, perhaps. We shall see where this goes. (Used with permission through Slayer of the Rot.)
Skills:
Above Average Hand to Hand: I have been trained in the ways of various martial arts, and while not mastering a single one, have learned several techniques from many. I am adept at crippling arts such as pressure point strikes and holds, various critical points on the human body, and areas where bones will snap and crack; and lethal arts such as lethal places open to a strike, lethal areas open to snapping or breaking, and various chokes. I know some blocks and deflections that transit into such moves, and am not trained in any throwing arts. Each of my moves use the arm, fist, hand, leg, or foot.
Above Average Speed: Weight training and speed training were included with my martial arts training, and with most of the martial arts training, my natural reflexes went up by a good, fast amount. I would say my speed is x1.5 that of a normal human, due to such circumstances.
Average Silent Movement: I also trained myself, and have been trained in moving silently. Moving my boot over hard surfaces such as stone or wood, and perhaps raising only a few sounds on pebbles and such surfaces. I can't avoid the snap of a twig quite yet, but in a city, on cobblestone, you would never hear a thing.
Equipment:
Two Blade Katar: This is a possession of mine that was gained through the money I recieved in pit fighting, and a few bits that I owned in assassination. It is a punching dagger of sorts. The fine steel blade is two pronged, and a sharp black color with a red closed eye drawn into the steel. A handle allows it to be held on the outside of the knuckles, like steel knuckles. The blade is about three inches long. A black steel guard goes down the back of the hand and wrists, protecting them from harm.
Tri Blade Katar: Same as above, except pronged three ways.
OOC Notes:
I can provide pictures of the weapon, if needed.
If I can add more skills, let me know. I would like my speed to be a bit better then the normal human, but I am not sure if I have too many skills already, or not enough weaknesses.
Hope the personality and such make sense. It might need editing, but I think it portrays him enough. A bit of his personality is outlined in his history, I believe.
Hope you like.
Age: 27
Race: Human
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Black
Height: 5'10
Weight: 176
Occupation: Assassin
Personality: I am considered unfriendly and freakish by most, which would be an accurate description in the eyes of many. I am unusually cold and quite, hiding most emotion from my face. This is mostly a result of closing my mouth with my stitches day after day, as when one is betrayed the use of words, most other emotion goes with it. I rarely communicate with anyone, and when I do, I use short and simple motions, or write. Even that is rare though, so even to friends I may have, I come off as cold and distant, perhaps a bit demonic or intimidating because of my looks.
Inside of the skin, I am quiet as well. My thoughts do not span very far, as I know my place, and accept that place. I live moment by moment, and do not have any massive views on life or death, or anything very deep, I merely let my thoughts span moments, and let them rise and flux whenever they will. I speak whatever comes to mind if I feel like speaking it. Spotanious and random, perhaps.
I live my life for my own pleasure, for the pleasure of a quick kill, for the pleasure and pain I inflict upon my own self. Perhaps in time a new goal will come, but for now, that is enough, and keeps me saited. I do not need anything but these pleasures, of blood and pain, and these pleasures are enough to keep me happy, and alive. I carry out these pleasures in a way deemed tasteful to me. Friends and family have faded away into nothing, although they still exist. I simply do not reveal to them this self of mine.
Appearance: The first thing you would notice about me would be my mouth. Every single morning, I unstitch the threads I have sewn through it on the previous day, reset my mouth in a position of my choice, and stitch it back closed. Black thread holds my lips shut, and I go through this every single morning, every single day. My head is shaven close, but you can see black stubble covering it in a fine coat. My eyes are pure black, resembling those of a demon, some say. My eyelids have scars in them from where I sometimes sew my eyes shut with the same thick black thread that I use for my lips.
I have muscled arms, thin and banded muscle, not the bulk and brute strength of some kind of body builder. My chest and legs retain this muscle build, which accounts my slim looks adding up to a 175 pound weight. I have various tattoo's on my body, of various words written in a cursive script. "Death", "Checkmate", "Pawn", "Traitor", and other such depressing words being the content of my body. I can usually be found wearing black clothes, whatever those particular clothes may be, that changes from day to day.
History: I was born into a normal family. Nothing in my childhood was demented or twisted, nothing to bring me into the way I am. I was blessed with a wonderful mother and father, who still love me to this day, and a older brother. The family that we had was a secure and loving one. We had a nice house, both of my parents had well paying jobs, and we had food on the table. Indeed, back then, everything was quite simple. The dementia and the lust for death, blood, and pain was something that my own mind concocted, with no outside influence, I believe. It was something that had been resting in my brain since birth, and I think it was just time to bring it to birth.
The desire first began when I was thirteen. I craved pain. I don't know how to explain this, it just happened. I was a fairly innocent young man, well bred and well schooled, looking at a bright future. I don't know why this sudden lust within my heart did not scare me, but somehow, I accepted it quite naturally. Don't ask me to explain it, I can't. Even with my future wide ahead of me, I went in pursuit of this new craving. Cutting seemed to be something of a crude art, not a way to pursue at all, so I turn to tattooing. This was a bit more tasteful in my young mind, for it did bring pain and sometimes blood, but wasn't too crude, and was also something of an art. I began getting several of these tattoo's, and although my parents worried, they allowed it.
I aced all of my schooling, and was sent away to college. This was the first time everything began to slowly go downhill, in most minds. The carriage that was driving me to this school, quite far away from my home town, never got there. In the back of this carriage, I was experimenting with a new pain, and found it. I sewed my lips together, for a permanent pain. There is no meaning behind it, I just liked the look, and craved the pain. And then, I craved the blood. So, in this craving, I made my mind. I did not want the life of a normal man. I wanted to live my lust.
I killed the carriage man. He was the first obstacle, for he was the one who would take me off to this life I did not want to lead. I killed him and hid his body, and continued on. I ran, fled, whisked myself away to the closest town. I was not tormented by what I did, I just did not know what to do next. Random killings were too crude, and held no art. The killing I had commited had a reason, and had brought satisfaction, but not for long. I wanted more. But I did not want it to be like an animal.
Therefor, I sold myself. I found the dankest corners of towns, the dirtiest pits, and offered myself up. First, as a pit fighter. When that grew stale, I took my training that was gained there and went forth in these circles, and offered myself as something else. An trained assassin. This was something I could live for. I trained myself, and sometimes trained under other assassins, gaining martial arts that would help me. I found out how to move silently, how to kill with the flick of a blade, how to plunge my fingers into points on the leg that would cripple a person, then plunge into the ribs to puncture them. I continued to tattoo and sew myself, bringing myself pain, and pleasuring in my killings. I trained, I killed, I lived for this. I was nothing but a tool of the people who was hiring me. I had no other potential, no want to be anything more.
However, someone else did think so. Someone had saw something in me, if with their own powers, or with the abilities that they had themselves, or perhaps with the knowledge of what I have done in my life. I usually don't hide it. So now, I venture forth into a bit more of a life. I still write letters to my parents, brother, and friends. They still believe I am the man I once was, believe I am in school, or perhaps graduated. But now, a new life has opened. A life known as the Audaemus, perhaps. We shall see where this goes. (Used with permission through Slayer of the Rot.)
Skills:
Above Average Hand to Hand: I have been trained in the ways of various martial arts, and while not mastering a single one, have learned several techniques from many. I am adept at crippling arts such as pressure point strikes and holds, various critical points on the human body, and areas where bones will snap and crack; and lethal arts such as lethal places open to a strike, lethal areas open to snapping or breaking, and various chokes. I know some blocks and deflections that transit into such moves, and am not trained in any throwing arts. Each of my moves use the arm, fist, hand, leg, or foot.
Above Average Speed: Weight training and speed training were included with my martial arts training, and with most of the martial arts training, my natural reflexes went up by a good, fast amount. I would say my speed is x1.5 that of a normal human, due to such circumstances.
Average Silent Movement: I also trained myself, and have been trained in moving silently. Moving my boot over hard surfaces such as stone or wood, and perhaps raising only a few sounds on pebbles and such surfaces. I can't avoid the snap of a twig quite yet, but in a city, on cobblestone, you would never hear a thing.
Equipment:
Two Blade Katar: This is a possession of mine that was gained through the money I recieved in pit fighting, and a few bits that I owned in assassination. It is a punching dagger of sorts. The fine steel blade is two pronged, and a sharp black color with a red closed eye drawn into the steel. A handle allows it to be held on the outside of the knuckles, like steel knuckles. The blade is about three inches long. A black steel guard goes down the back of the hand and wrists, protecting them from harm.
Tri Blade Katar: Same as above, except pronged three ways.
OOC Notes:
I can provide pictures of the weapon, if needed.
If I can add more skills, let me know. I would like my speed to be a bit better then the normal human, but I am not sure if I have too many skills already, or not enough weaknesses.
Hope the personality and such make sense. It might need editing, but I think it portrays him enough. A bit of his personality is outlined in his history, I believe.
Hope you like.