Ulysses
02-22-10, 01:47 PM
“We are not now that strength which in the old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are,
One equal-temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.” – Lord Alfred Tennyson
“Oh, then suddenly you know: you’re never going home.” – Franz Ferdinand
Name: Ulysses
Race: Human
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Golden
Height: 5’9”
Weight: 163 lb
Occupation: Adventurer (previously a fisherman)
Appearance: Ulysses is of slightly above-average stature, and medium build. His posture is generally confident and relaxed, and his expression is usually serene. While not extremely muscular, he is physically fit and healthy. He looks to be in his late teens, somewhat younger than he actually is.
He has medium length, mousy brown hair which he rarely bothers combing or messing with at all. His features are handsome and noble but not striking; the most unusual thing about his appearance is his eyes. They are bright and golden, like those of an eagle or hawk.
In terms of clothing, he typically wears plain brown pants and a white working man’s shirt. Beneath the shirt he wears a vest of chainmail, which is visible to the discerning eye. Clasped to the right side of his brown belt is a leather scabbard, in which he carries his sword. His shoes are sturdy boots, good for lengthy hikes—and they are completely waterproof. His dress isn’t unusual enough for anyone to pick him out of a crowd because of it.
Personality: For most of his life, he was timid and quiet. After his meeting with the spirit and transition into adventurer-hood, he underwent a subtle change that he didn’t even notice. He became self-confident, even arrogant. He’s talkative and charismatic, but also somewhat snarky and sarcastic. He can’t abide people who are lazy or venal, but he is quick to trust and befriend those who seem trustworthy. He’s of slightly above average intelligence, and is a fairly quick thinker. He has a strong moral code and sense of right and wrong, and he’s willing to act in order to fulfill his idea of justice. He would not, however, want to break the law in most circumstances—unless some egregious wrong is being perpetuated under it.
Weapons: Ulysses’ only weapon is a steel longsword of average size and make. As far as he knows, there is nothing exceptional or magical about it. When he awoke after meeting the Spirit, he found it beside him, and he has carried it with him ever since.
Armor: Ulysses wears a light (iron) chainmail vest beneath his tunic, and no other armor. As with the sword, he awoke wearing this vest. However, as far as he knows there is nothing magical about it either.
Skills: Ulysses is able to commune with the memories and skills of heroes of the past—even heroes from other universes and worlds—and use their talents to his own benefit. However, he is new to this talent and can only achieve limited connection to these spirits. To improve his connection with a spirit he would need more practice, or to go on a quest to improve his ability. He can summon and speak to these spirits, but only if they wish to talk to him, and his time with them is very limited (one post, or about five minutes). When he is using a spirit’s talents, part of their personality wears off on him, and he must battle to maintain his own identity. In the future he may be able to commune with other spirits, but for now he can only use the talents of the Knight, the Ronin, and the Gunslinger.
Spirit of the Knight
Above Average Sword Mastery: Ulysses can use the Knight’s experiences to use a sword with skill slightly greater than the average person.
Average Shield Mastery: Ulysses can use the Knight’s experiences to use a shield with average skill.
Spirit of the Ronin
Dual-Weapon Use: Ulysses can use the Ronin’s training to use two weapons at once with slightly below average skill.
Spirit of the Gunslinger
Gun use: Ulysses can use the Gunslinger’s talents to know how to use revolvers and pistols. This is a completely useless talent in a world devoid of such weapons, but the knowledge is there.
Aim: Ulysses can use the Gunslinger’s talents to improve his aim with any ranged weapon to slightly below that of an average person.
History: In a small hovel on the edge of the docks of Scara Brae there was once born a child to a fisherman and his wife. This child was average in size and intelligence. He displayed no magical talents. He grew up into a sturdy, dependable child who helped his father with fishing expeditions on a regular basis. Eventually he entered manhood and left his parents to make his own life. He, too, became a fisherman, and a fairly successful—if not exactly wealthy—one. He met a homely girl named Mary to be his wife, and even if she wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the harbor, she was the kindest, and they had a slow, gentle romance that more than satisfied his need for love. He married her, and they settled into a comfortable, but not luxurious, life. He was satisfied. Not happy, but…satisfied.
One day, he was out alone on his fishing boat in the harbor when the waters by the side of his boat swirled in a sudden whirlpool. A ghostly figure appeared in the air before the fisherman’s son, and he gasped aloud.
The spirit, or whatever it was, shifted through many forms and faces rapidly, then settled on one: a man with a black beard, bronze armor, and an immense bow on his back. “Hello,” the spirit said gravely.
“Who are you?” came the stammered response.
“I am every valiant knight that ever went on a quest to rescue a princess in distress; I am every samurai or ronin that ever strove to preserve his honor; I am every gunslinger that ever sought vengeance with lead. I am Honor, I am Valor.” The spirit shifted once more and became a knight with a broadsword clad in full plate armor. “I am the neverending quest for chivalry and good in a universe tainted by corruption and tormented by unimaginable demons. And you are my chosen champion.”
The fisherman’s son’s eyes widened. “But why me? Why did you come to me?”
“Why? A hero who asks why?” The spirit shimmered briefly and was then a tall man in a ferocious mask and bright red armor, and two swords on his back. “There is no why. There is simply the hand of destiny that touched you at birth. You are not special. You are no smarter, or braver, or stronger than any other man. Why is simply the wrong question to ask.”
The fisherman’s son shook his head. “I can’t accept that. There has to be a why.”
The spirit laughed, whirled around, and was suddenly a scruffy looking man in blue pants and a strange hat. He spoke in a strange alien accent. “Pard, curiosity has never been a desirable quality in a hero, no sir.” He shook his head. “Now we gotta discuss a price.”
“What?”
“A price! Hey Tex, did you really expect me to go through all this for free? Naw.” The spirit’s form shifted again. This time a regal woman with blond hair, wings, and a spear. “I give you the ability to become a great adventurer; you must give me something in return. I think your name will do nicely.”
“I never wanted this—” he started to protest but was interrupted.
“Yes, your name. I will wash your name and your memory of that name from this world, and I shall give you a new one. Baptized, as it, were, as a new man!” Her form shifted and now she was a man with dirt on his face, a green helmet and green clothing; some sort of black weapon on his back. “Yes, poetically fitting in a way. I dub you Ulysses.”
The fisherman’s son was struck by a light so bright it burned his skin like fire. He felt for sure that he would never see again: when he next looked in the mirror he would notice that his eyes had gone from brown to gold. Eventually the light stopped. There was laughter like a clarion call, and for an instant he witnessed the true form of the god that had come to him, without trappings or masks. Then there was darkness. The fisherman’s son, name stolen and now newly dubbed Ulysses, slept. How long Ulysses slept is impossible to say. Eventually there was light: pure, soft sunlight, not the hellish white he had experienced before. When he awoke he was on a grassy knoll just outside the city of Scara Brae.
Immediately, he returned to his home by the harbor. When he got there, he found that his wife no longer remembered who he was. Scarier than that, however, was that he no longer truly remembered who he was. Most of his past he could recall, but it was as though he was looking through a fog. What his name had been, he had no idea.
At that time, he experienced a sharp sadness greater than any emotion he had in his life thus far. He’d lost his love, his life, and his name. He no longer had a home to call his own. All of this had been stolen from him, and what he’d been given felt alien and hard. He wanted no destiny but a simple, comfortable life. The spirit wanted him to go on a quest, to become a hero? Fine. He would embark on a quest, but it would not be the quest the spirit desired.
He would go on a quest to learn his name.
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are,
One equal-temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.” – Lord Alfred Tennyson
“Oh, then suddenly you know: you’re never going home.” – Franz Ferdinand
Name: Ulysses
Race: Human
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Golden
Height: 5’9”
Weight: 163 lb
Occupation: Adventurer (previously a fisherman)
Appearance: Ulysses is of slightly above-average stature, and medium build. His posture is generally confident and relaxed, and his expression is usually serene. While not extremely muscular, he is physically fit and healthy. He looks to be in his late teens, somewhat younger than he actually is.
He has medium length, mousy brown hair which he rarely bothers combing or messing with at all. His features are handsome and noble but not striking; the most unusual thing about his appearance is his eyes. They are bright and golden, like those of an eagle or hawk.
In terms of clothing, he typically wears plain brown pants and a white working man’s shirt. Beneath the shirt he wears a vest of chainmail, which is visible to the discerning eye. Clasped to the right side of his brown belt is a leather scabbard, in which he carries his sword. His shoes are sturdy boots, good for lengthy hikes—and they are completely waterproof. His dress isn’t unusual enough for anyone to pick him out of a crowd because of it.
Personality: For most of his life, he was timid and quiet. After his meeting with the spirit and transition into adventurer-hood, he underwent a subtle change that he didn’t even notice. He became self-confident, even arrogant. He’s talkative and charismatic, but also somewhat snarky and sarcastic. He can’t abide people who are lazy or venal, but he is quick to trust and befriend those who seem trustworthy. He’s of slightly above average intelligence, and is a fairly quick thinker. He has a strong moral code and sense of right and wrong, and he’s willing to act in order to fulfill his idea of justice. He would not, however, want to break the law in most circumstances—unless some egregious wrong is being perpetuated under it.
Weapons: Ulysses’ only weapon is a steel longsword of average size and make. As far as he knows, there is nothing exceptional or magical about it. When he awoke after meeting the Spirit, he found it beside him, and he has carried it with him ever since.
Armor: Ulysses wears a light (iron) chainmail vest beneath his tunic, and no other armor. As with the sword, he awoke wearing this vest. However, as far as he knows there is nothing magical about it either.
Skills: Ulysses is able to commune with the memories and skills of heroes of the past—even heroes from other universes and worlds—and use their talents to his own benefit. However, he is new to this talent and can only achieve limited connection to these spirits. To improve his connection with a spirit he would need more practice, or to go on a quest to improve his ability. He can summon and speak to these spirits, but only if they wish to talk to him, and his time with them is very limited (one post, or about five minutes). When he is using a spirit’s talents, part of their personality wears off on him, and he must battle to maintain his own identity. In the future he may be able to commune with other spirits, but for now he can only use the talents of the Knight, the Ronin, and the Gunslinger.
Spirit of the Knight
Above Average Sword Mastery: Ulysses can use the Knight’s experiences to use a sword with skill slightly greater than the average person.
Average Shield Mastery: Ulysses can use the Knight’s experiences to use a shield with average skill.
Spirit of the Ronin
Dual-Weapon Use: Ulysses can use the Ronin’s training to use two weapons at once with slightly below average skill.
Spirit of the Gunslinger
Gun use: Ulysses can use the Gunslinger’s talents to know how to use revolvers and pistols. This is a completely useless talent in a world devoid of such weapons, but the knowledge is there.
Aim: Ulysses can use the Gunslinger’s talents to improve his aim with any ranged weapon to slightly below that of an average person.
History: In a small hovel on the edge of the docks of Scara Brae there was once born a child to a fisherman and his wife. This child was average in size and intelligence. He displayed no magical talents. He grew up into a sturdy, dependable child who helped his father with fishing expeditions on a regular basis. Eventually he entered manhood and left his parents to make his own life. He, too, became a fisherman, and a fairly successful—if not exactly wealthy—one. He met a homely girl named Mary to be his wife, and even if she wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the harbor, she was the kindest, and they had a slow, gentle romance that more than satisfied his need for love. He married her, and they settled into a comfortable, but not luxurious, life. He was satisfied. Not happy, but…satisfied.
One day, he was out alone on his fishing boat in the harbor when the waters by the side of his boat swirled in a sudden whirlpool. A ghostly figure appeared in the air before the fisherman’s son, and he gasped aloud.
The spirit, or whatever it was, shifted through many forms and faces rapidly, then settled on one: a man with a black beard, bronze armor, and an immense bow on his back. “Hello,” the spirit said gravely.
“Who are you?” came the stammered response.
“I am every valiant knight that ever went on a quest to rescue a princess in distress; I am every samurai or ronin that ever strove to preserve his honor; I am every gunslinger that ever sought vengeance with lead. I am Honor, I am Valor.” The spirit shifted once more and became a knight with a broadsword clad in full plate armor. “I am the neverending quest for chivalry and good in a universe tainted by corruption and tormented by unimaginable demons. And you are my chosen champion.”
The fisherman’s son’s eyes widened. “But why me? Why did you come to me?”
“Why? A hero who asks why?” The spirit shimmered briefly and was then a tall man in a ferocious mask and bright red armor, and two swords on his back. “There is no why. There is simply the hand of destiny that touched you at birth. You are not special. You are no smarter, or braver, or stronger than any other man. Why is simply the wrong question to ask.”
The fisherman’s son shook his head. “I can’t accept that. There has to be a why.”
The spirit laughed, whirled around, and was suddenly a scruffy looking man in blue pants and a strange hat. He spoke in a strange alien accent. “Pard, curiosity has never been a desirable quality in a hero, no sir.” He shook his head. “Now we gotta discuss a price.”
“What?”
“A price! Hey Tex, did you really expect me to go through all this for free? Naw.” The spirit’s form shifted again. This time a regal woman with blond hair, wings, and a spear. “I give you the ability to become a great adventurer; you must give me something in return. I think your name will do nicely.”
“I never wanted this—” he started to protest but was interrupted.
“Yes, your name. I will wash your name and your memory of that name from this world, and I shall give you a new one. Baptized, as it, were, as a new man!” Her form shifted and now she was a man with dirt on his face, a green helmet and green clothing; some sort of black weapon on his back. “Yes, poetically fitting in a way. I dub you Ulysses.”
The fisherman’s son was struck by a light so bright it burned his skin like fire. He felt for sure that he would never see again: when he next looked in the mirror he would notice that his eyes had gone from brown to gold. Eventually the light stopped. There was laughter like a clarion call, and for an instant he witnessed the true form of the god that had come to him, without trappings or masks. Then there was darkness. The fisherman’s son, name stolen and now newly dubbed Ulysses, slept. How long Ulysses slept is impossible to say. Eventually there was light: pure, soft sunlight, not the hellish white he had experienced before. When he awoke he was on a grassy knoll just outside the city of Scara Brae.
Immediately, he returned to his home by the harbor. When he got there, he found that his wife no longer remembered who he was. Scarier than that, however, was that he no longer truly remembered who he was. Most of his past he could recall, but it was as though he was looking through a fog. What his name had been, he had no idea.
At that time, he experienced a sharp sadness greater than any emotion he had in his life thus far. He’d lost his love, his life, and his name. He no longer had a home to call his own. All of this had been stolen from him, and what he’d been given felt alien and hard. He wanted no destiny but a simple, comfortable life. The spirit wanted him to go on a quest, to become a hero? Fine. He would embark on a quest, but it would not be the quest the spirit desired.
He would go on a quest to learn his name.