Desmond
10-18-09, 02:08 AM
B A S I C Information
Name: Desmond Eurdice
Moniker(s): Calamity
Age: 15
Sex: Male
Classification:Halfing (elf:human)
Date of Birth: 01.09.
Religion: None
Martial Status: Single
Biological Parents:Deceased
Valdmere Eurdice [ Father ]
Klysia Eurdice [ Mother ]
P H Y S I C A L Statistics
Build: Athletic; lean
Complexion: Tan
Height: 5'11
Weight: 175
Blood Type: O-
Eyes: Amber
Hair: Black
Physical Appearance:
Desmond's youthful face was the mask of deception, a placid lake that one would mistake for naive; albeit actions showed him to be otherwise. However, that was all apart of the charm that carried with him. Desmond's deep amber eyes were there to pull you in, but they were aided by that black hair that as if guided by some divine hand hair shaped his face when worn long that drew out some of the outstanding features. It captivated his facial features impeccably, hiding some such as the ears accenting others ( jaw, chin ), his brown eyes were the lure on the hook that seemed to draw the gaze. Those same eyes were often half lidded and tucked behind the few stray strands that veiled his vision. As you notice a few things like the stubble that came from puberty's struggling attempt to grant him facial hair, or the slight hint of the alluring musk of his smell. As of current his face has been devoid of emotion, deep circles under his eyes, frail body, and ragged outward appearance were all from the current years of work done by the church.
From the neck down it was supposed to be typical, simple muscles that outlined to build a simple shape but instead there was something more; Desmond was built very carefully, as if the gods themselves stepped in ages ago writing the genetic map for his bloodline so the proper attributes accumulated. A defined back, and slender form of compact muscles, loose fitted clothes illy represented the form they covered. Constantly each muscle is relaxed maybe out of sheer lazy habit, or that is just how they operate.
Proficiencies - Novice
Unarmed Combat: While under the guidance of the church Desmond has picked up on a lot of unarmed combat techniques from many of the soldiers that passed through, only they used him as a guinea pig, and a test dummy. Their harsh administration of combat granted him the muscle memory to remember the most basic of techniques, and grapples. Accumulated knowledge aside Desmond only learned enough to sustain a short time in a hand to hand only fight.
Kinetic Energy Manipulation- While energy manipulation is the main tier of power drawn from there are many deviations from that name, varying in the areas of how the energy is controlled, sustained, and used. Desmond in this case is cursed with the ability over kinetic charge, though his 'Power Tree' is limited at this stage in the game. Broken down once the hands make contact with any surface, kinetic energy is dispersed resulting in eventual detonation. If touched with a finger only a small area will be harmed, likewise if the whole hand touches a larger portion will be blown away. The ability that stems from the build up of energy that has no proper outlet, usually causing his skin to burn red when discharge is needed. Of course the over abundance of energy is pulled directly from a genetic malfunction that causes triggers a chemical imbalance in the brain. If it gets too much it could kill him, internally exploding. That draw back puts him in a tight spot with his secondary ability to absorb energy from living matter.
With both abilities usage is confined to his ability to use his hands, absorbing energy requires direct physical contact. Automatically his body only takes what it needs, but due to his poor understanding of how to maintain it often runs haywire if it isn't monitored. Meaning that a small touch could infect the victim with drowsiness, or a larger grasp could knock someone out, which puts Desmond in a tight spot of trying to keep his hands to himself—when not doing so it requires constant observation.
Part of the reason he can't go absorbing energy all willy nilly. If the energy absorbed puts him past his limit it could be hazardous; incapacitation level hazardous . On the plus side, absorbed energy can be converted to a medium level regenerative healing factor, as well as remaining energy that needs to be expelled. This allows him to heal others from gashes, gunshot wounds, but nothing fatal all this ability does is jump-start the healing process.
Desmond is weak against many things that most people are, sickness, swords, and extreme falls. Without proper care he could fall prey to mind reading, hypnosis as well as other effects from some other powers. Aside from the standard human weaknesses, Desmond's main foes when it comes to his abilities are:
The danger of not releasing excess amounts of energy, which could very well result in death. Desmond sustains damage on his hands depending on the amount of energy released, usually blowing off skin resulting in heavy bleeding; also his kinetic charge is limited to human flesh, while he is able to simply repel other things like swords, axes, or stone he can't make them explode.
P S Y C H O L O G I C AL Review
Demeanor:
Cliché as it may seem, Desmond is a basket of sorrows shouldering a large burden that haunts him and will haunt him probably for the rest of his days. It isn't something as fickle as a misplaced tooth brush in a girls house, or a wrong name mentioned in conversation that makes Desmond's shoulders slump forward, but such a dark secret prevents him from actively pulling people closer into his circle of trust. Desmond's fear of emotional contact stems from latent paranoia of being judged, which is probably the cause of the lack of true personality. Also from that same incident he is the wary that he possesses a reverse Midas touch, only exacerbated through the recent circumstanced under which he was kept: as a servant of the church's wicked punishment, and torture policies. The death of his parents has left his mind frayed and torn, caught up in a cycle of atonement for taking their lives, and those he has tortured. Years of personal torment has left behind only a vague shadow of self that is devoid of emotion, and aside from the blank stare there is nothing more than darkness that struggles to choke out the last bits of sanity.
Without even the smallest recollection of good and bad Desmond operates efficiently, the systematic way of his mind provides a calm reprieve from the action taking place. This way of existence earned him the nick name Doll, no emotion or the slightest hesitation when given an order. On the surface there is not the slightest bit of disobedience, but deep down though, there is a flame that burns, yearning for some semblance of freedom. It is this flame that helps him cling to false hopes of being relinquished from the iron grips of the Church of Ethereal Sway. Even if he had been beaten into a timid almost feral state, a slave to his guilt with the slightest slimmer of hope.
H I S TO R Y
Desmond was born on the 9th of January. Of course as birth's go, his was (in his opinion) one of the most spectacular. A deviant mastermind of mischief, and chaos, trained through childhood curiosity to be a royal pain in the butt for those who lived in the village . All of this was done while parents were out of town, but in their presence his actions were nothing less than angelic—falsifying any claims otherwise, and allowing his parents to straighten up matters such as that themselves. Maybe these actions were just a cry for attention that his parent's didn't quite give as they protested in and against civil wars that destroyed families, to work towards giving those victims their fair way in the world. Probably on some level it felt like they cared more for the rights of victims than the welfare of their child - a topic they would openly say the opposite of if confronted. The truth of the matter was that he spent countless hours under the watchful eye of some harlot of a babysitter that was more concerned with the events of her preteen life than the mischief Desmond deliberately caused.
While the shenanigans ensued for a few years, it was around this time that Desmond's abilities had just started to develop, granted there was no outward showing, latent signs pointed to the obvious. Even still these were good years: no chores, no worries. For the most part he had as much free time as he could possibly imagine, though it wouldn't last long.
A few years later: Desmond had come down with a fever, or what was assumed as a fever his parents for once stayed home to take care of him. However, the symptoms failed to match up with any sort of sickness they have experienced: melanoma of the skin flared red, functions proceeded as normal accept for an aching pain that radiated all over the body. If anything the parents were the ones that could be suspected as being sick, each brush of contact left them a bit more dazed, confused, and drowsy this continued until the naps became more frequent eventually resulting in comatose. As Desmond shook their bodies hoping they would wake up, silent pleas became shouts, and eventually the pain on his end became too much to bare—the results were the decomposition of the bodies by explosion. A consequence that at this point was out of Wesley's hands, their blood stained the walls, and his clothes as an interminable sadness was seasoned with a wail of grief. Panic overrode common sense, and the child fled from the rubble that was the houses upstairs. He watched the cop drama's frequently when the chance was available he saw what they did to kids that committed murder; he did not want that to happen to him.
Operatives of the Radasanth Crime Syndicate stormed the house an hour or two later once the disturbance was reported, they were the experts, and this family in particular was under their careful watch. When the scene was viewed by those of weaker stomaches that reaction was obvious, this was rendered a malicious act of the mutant kind, and such a grotesque form of execution had been frightening. It was only a few weeks later Desmond had been picked up by a priest who took the child in, it was established he needed a home—which was quickly resolved. This was of course the turning point, what Desmond didn't know was that he was well on his way to be used for far worse things than what he was glum about.
Transported to the frozen land of Salvar, there he was inducted ( unknowly ) into the Church of Ethereal Way, under careful care he was coerced into exposing his ability. They taught him how to use it, they helped him for the most part hone it to the best of his ability via experimental livestock to prepare him for the 'big' game. A well practiced process of weening the child to becoming familiar to a form of torture on anything comparable to human flesh. Soon after a few months they began to feed him lies such as “This will help wash away your guilt” soon it grew to “Do this until we turn you into the authorities” the nice people that he had grown to appreciate, and learn from turned their backs on him viewing him as a tool than a person.
After a while the child became indifferent, a heartless monster that struck fear in the hearts of those captured by the wicked church, the devoid shadow that most prisoners called 'Calamity' a machine that shared a cell in the deepest parts of the Church's prison; much like an animal. In that stone walled cell he yearned for freedom, with his hands cuffed, and covered with metal gauntlets. Freedom was on his tongue as his stomach churned from the sorrowed screams that haunted his dreams, and behind those clouded, miserable eyes there was the hunger to grasp such a freedom.
Name: Desmond Eurdice
Moniker(s): Calamity
Age: 15
Sex: Male
Classification:Halfing (elf:human)
Date of Birth: 01.09.
Religion: None
Martial Status: Single
Biological Parents:Deceased
Valdmere Eurdice [ Father ]
Klysia Eurdice [ Mother ]
P H Y S I C A L Statistics
Build: Athletic; lean
Complexion: Tan
Height: 5'11
Weight: 175
Blood Type: O-
Eyes: Amber
Hair: Black
Physical Appearance:
Desmond's youthful face was the mask of deception, a placid lake that one would mistake for naive; albeit actions showed him to be otherwise. However, that was all apart of the charm that carried with him. Desmond's deep amber eyes were there to pull you in, but they were aided by that black hair that as if guided by some divine hand hair shaped his face when worn long that drew out some of the outstanding features. It captivated his facial features impeccably, hiding some such as the ears accenting others ( jaw, chin ), his brown eyes were the lure on the hook that seemed to draw the gaze. Those same eyes were often half lidded and tucked behind the few stray strands that veiled his vision. As you notice a few things like the stubble that came from puberty's struggling attempt to grant him facial hair, or the slight hint of the alluring musk of his smell. As of current his face has been devoid of emotion, deep circles under his eyes, frail body, and ragged outward appearance were all from the current years of work done by the church.
From the neck down it was supposed to be typical, simple muscles that outlined to build a simple shape but instead there was something more; Desmond was built very carefully, as if the gods themselves stepped in ages ago writing the genetic map for his bloodline so the proper attributes accumulated. A defined back, and slender form of compact muscles, loose fitted clothes illy represented the form they covered. Constantly each muscle is relaxed maybe out of sheer lazy habit, or that is just how they operate.
Proficiencies - Novice
Unarmed Combat: While under the guidance of the church Desmond has picked up on a lot of unarmed combat techniques from many of the soldiers that passed through, only they used him as a guinea pig, and a test dummy. Their harsh administration of combat granted him the muscle memory to remember the most basic of techniques, and grapples. Accumulated knowledge aside Desmond only learned enough to sustain a short time in a hand to hand only fight.
Kinetic Energy Manipulation- While energy manipulation is the main tier of power drawn from there are many deviations from that name, varying in the areas of how the energy is controlled, sustained, and used. Desmond in this case is cursed with the ability over kinetic charge, though his 'Power Tree' is limited at this stage in the game. Broken down once the hands make contact with any surface, kinetic energy is dispersed resulting in eventual detonation. If touched with a finger only a small area will be harmed, likewise if the whole hand touches a larger portion will be blown away. The ability that stems from the build up of energy that has no proper outlet, usually causing his skin to burn red when discharge is needed. Of course the over abundance of energy is pulled directly from a genetic malfunction that causes triggers a chemical imbalance in the brain. If it gets too much it could kill him, internally exploding. That draw back puts him in a tight spot with his secondary ability to absorb energy from living matter.
With both abilities usage is confined to his ability to use his hands, absorbing energy requires direct physical contact. Automatically his body only takes what it needs, but due to his poor understanding of how to maintain it often runs haywire if it isn't monitored. Meaning that a small touch could infect the victim with drowsiness, or a larger grasp could knock someone out, which puts Desmond in a tight spot of trying to keep his hands to himself—when not doing so it requires constant observation.
Part of the reason he can't go absorbing energy all willy nilly. If the energy absorbed puts him past his limit it could be hazardous; incapacitation level hazardous . On the plus side, absorbed energy can be converted to a medium level regenerative healing factor, as well as remaining energy that needs to be expelled. This allows him to heal others from gashes, gunshot wounds, but nothing fatal all this ability does is jump-start the healing process.
Desmond is weak against many things that most people are, sickness, swords, and extreme falls. Without proper care he could fall prey to mind reading, hypnosis as well as other effects from some other powers. Aside from the standard human weaknesses, Desmond's main foes when it comes to his abilities are:
The danger of not releasing excess amounts of energy, which could very well result in death. Desmond sustains damage on his hands depending on the amount of energy released, usually blowing off skin resulting in heavy bleeding; also his kinetic charge is limited to human flesh, while he is able to simply repel other things like swords, axes, or stone he can't make them explode.
P S Y C H O L O G I C AL Review
Demeanor:
Cliché as it may seem, Desmond is a basket of sorrows shouldering a large burden that haunts him and will haunt him probably for the rest of his days. It isn't something as fickle as a misplaced tooth brush in a girls house, or a wrong name mentioned in conversation that makes Desmond's shoulders slump forward, but such a dark secret prevents him from actively pulling people closer into his circle of trust. Desmond's fear of emotional contact stems from latent paranoia of being judged, which is probably the cause of the lack of true personality. Also from that same incident he is the wary that he possesses a reverse Midas touch, only exacerbated through the recent circumstanced under which he was kept: as a servant of the church's wicked punishment, and torture policies. The death of his parents has left his mind frayed and torn, caught up in a cycle of atonement for taking their lives, and those he has tortured. Years of personal torment has left behind only a vague shadow of self that is devoid of emotion, and aside from the blank stare there is nothing more than darkness that struggles to choke out the last bits of sanity.
Without even the smallest recollection of good and bad Desmond operates efficiently, the systematic way of his mind provides a calm reprieve from the action taking place. This way of existence earned him the nick name Doll, no emotion or the slightest hesitation when given an order. On the surface there is not the slightest bit of disobedience, but deep down though, there is a flame that burns, yearning for some semblance of freedom. It is this flame that helps him cling to false hopes of being relinquished from the iron grips of the Church of Ethereal Sway. Even if he had been beaten into a timid almost feral state, a slave to his guilt with the slightest slimmer of hope.
H I S TO R Y
Desmond was born on the 9th of January. Of course as birth's go, his was (in his opinion) one of the most spectacular. A deviant mastermind of mischief, and chaos, trained through childhood curiosity to be a royal pain in the butt for those who lived in the village . All of this was done while parents were out of town, but in their presence his actions were nothing less than angelic—falsifying any claims otherwise, and allowing his parents to straighten up matters such as that themselves. Maybe these actions were just a cry for attention that his parent's didn't quite give as they protested in and against civil wars that destroyed families, to work towards giving those victims their fair way in the world. Probably on some level it felt like they cared more for the rights of victims than the welfare of their child - a topic they would openly say the opposite of if confronted. The truth of the matter was that he spent countless hours under the watchful eye of some harlot of a babysitter that was more concerned with the events of her preteen life than the mischief Desmond deliberately caused.
While the shenanigans ensued for a few years, it was around this time that Desmond's abilities had just started to develop, granted there was no outward showing, latent signs pointed to the obvious. Even still these were good years: no chores, no worries. For the most part he had as much free time as he could possibly imagine, though it wouldn't last long.
A few years later: Desmond had come down with a fever, or what was assumed as a fever his parents for once stayed home to take care of him. However, the symptoms failed to match up with any sort of sickness they have experienced: melanoma of the skin flared red, functions proceeded as normal accept for an aching pain that radiated all over the body. If anything the parents were the ones that could be suspected as being sick, each brush of contact left them a bit more dazed, confused, and drowsy this continued until the naps became more frequent eventually resulting in comatose. As Desmond shook their bodies hoping they would wake up, silent pleas became shouts, and eventually the pain on his end became too much to bare—the results were the decomposition of the bodies by explosion. A consequence that at this point was out of Wesley's hands, their blood stained the walls, and his clothes as an interminable sadness was seasoned with a wail of grief. Panic overrode common sense, and the child fled from the rubble that was the houses upstairs. He watched the cop drama's frequently when the chance was available he saw what they did to kids that committed murder; he did not want that to happen to him.
Operatives of the Radasanth Crime Syndicate stormed the house an hour or two later once the disturbance was reported, they were the experts, and this family in particular was under their careful watch. When the scene was viewed by those of weaker stomaches that reaction was obvious, this was rendered a malicious act of the mutant kind, and such a grotesque form of execution had been frightening. It was only a few weeks later Desmond had been picked up by a priest who took the child in, it was established he needed a home—which was quickly resolved. This was of course the turning point, what Desmond didn't know was that he was well on his way to be used for far worse things than what he was glum about.
Transported to the frozen land of Salvar, there he was inducted ( unknowly ) into the Church of Ethereal Way, under careful care he was coerced into exposing his ability. They taught him how to use it, they helped him for the most part hone it to the best of his ability via experimental livestock to prepare him for the 'big' game. A well practiced process of weening the child to becoming familiar to a form of torture on anything comparable to human flesh. Soon after a few months they began to feed him lies such as “This will help wash away your guilt” soon it grew to “Do this until we turn you into the authorities” the nice people that he had grown to appreciate, and learn from turned their backs on him viewing him as a tool than a person.
After a while the child became indifferent, a heartless monster that struck fear in the hearts of those captured by the wicked church, the devoid shadow that most prisoners called 'Calamity' a machine that shared a cell in the deepest parts of the Church's prison; much like an animal. In that stone walled cell he yearned for freedom, with his hands cuffed, and covered with metal gauntlets. Freedom was on his tongue as his stomach churned from the sorrowed screams that haunted his dreams, and behind those clouded, miserable eyes there was the hunger to grasp such a freedom.