The Trap Master
04-06-10, 07:59 AM
Name: Ashton John Shelby, but goes by ‘Ash’
Age: 42
Race: Althanian. In other words, human
Eyes: Light brown
Hair: Brown, but it’s slowly turning gray from the sides udwards.
Gender: Male
Build: Over 200 lbs of muscle, placed evenly among his body so it is not shaped weird.
Height: Exactly six feet tall.
Skin Color: White
Wardrobe Preference: Though he does not go out into public too often, John has a wide variety of clothing in his closet. The most notable, and thus preferred items include a long brown trench coat, a red baseball style hat, a long navy blue t-shirt, and a pair of khaki cargo pants. In certain situations, he will don on one of four masks; Max Dirks, Ashiakin, Yari Rafanas, and Sei Orlouge. This is so he can catch his targets off guard. In those situations, he also wears the outfits of those whose faces he ‘borrows’. If without a mask, he will simply hide his face underneath the shade of his cap and don a black sweater and black sweat pants. He typically wears black socks and light brown loafers.
Skills:
John is adept in the study of criminal justice, allowing him to rid the area of clues and evidence before he starts one of his works. He has a genius level intelligence that is often implemented in the citadel to create his masterpieces. He is above average in surveillance, often being able to trail somebody through the most remote areas without being detected (by no means is he ever up close to said person, more like 20-50 feet away). He knows of the magics and the technology needed to keep the citadel running, and to keep it’s rooms ever-changing. Just because he has this knowledge, however, does not mean he can actually implement it himself. He knows practically every language Althanas has to offer, even some of the more ancient and forgotten languages. His penmanship is superb, to the point of being able to write a letter in the handwriting of anyone he chooses, so long as he has seen their writing style first.
Abilities:
John has no true abilities per se, other than the ability to make people have epiphanies.
History:
“Damnit Sarge, he did it again,” Liutenant Eric Oak said as he looked at the body, “he killed another one, and once again we don’t have anything on him!”
The stench indicated that the victim had died several weeks prior. An Ai’Bron monk had reported the door to a room in the downtown Radasanth as being locked and nobody could open it. Concerned not only with this fact, but the fact that the room smelled of the dead, the authorities were notified. It took two days to unseal the curse that had been placed on the door, and even then it took three different locksmiths to get all of the locks undone. Whatever was in this room, they had no intention of leaving.
That’s when Oak and his Sargant, Sasori Abner, went into the room to reveal a rotting corpse of what they could have only assumed was a man. There were small dots all over his body, and Abner noticed dozens of mosquitoes flying out of the townhouse. There was no amount of Ai’Bron monk healing that was going to bring this sucker back.
The body had a piece of paper in one hand, clenched for dear life. When the two investigated the paper, it started the same way all the papers did. “There’s A Lesson To Be Learned…”
Upon reading it further, the two discovered that this man was having relations with a girl far under the age limit for such actions against her will. The letter revealed that just as he had sucked the girl’s innocence dry, so now was he to be sucked dry. A few feet from the body was a bucket splattered with a crimson substance. Further investigation had revealed that at one time it was filled with Demon blood. This particular demon blood was quite the aphrodisiac to female mosquitoes, the ones that drank blood. Apparently in order to have escaped, the man was to drink all of the blood from the bucket. The weight on his body would activate a switch just in front of the door that would unseal the door instantly and allow him to escape. However, he had to drink the blood quickly, before the mosquitoes got to it first.
“I guess he didn’t drink it fast enough,” Abner said, “and the mosquitoes wound up eating him alive. Can’t say he didn’t deserve it…”
This comment enraged Oak, “It’s not his right to decide who lives and who dies, Sarge! The Trap Master has been doing stuff like this for four years now and we still don’t have any clues as to who he is! All we know is that he must have studied calligraphy, espionage, and criminal justice thoroughly, because everything we’ve found has been a red herring!”
“Just clean this mess up, maybe the bucket or the body will give something away –this- time,” Abner said as he walked out of the room. He knew that the Trap Master had to be able to watch his victims through some sort of technology or magic, but he didn’t know what, or if anyone was helping him. Sighing in failure, Abner mumbled to himself, “We’ll find you sooner or later you son of a pig. You’ll screw up somehow, and we’ll have your ass. You won’t be getting many more victims, mark my words.”
“The Trap Master’s days are coming to an end…”
(Note: John only traps the truly unworthy and evil in rooms where if they fail, they truly die. All PCs on Althanas will be trapped in Citadel rooms, as John only wants to teach them lessons about themselves. In other words, I am not going to go around randomly killing people’s characters with no chance of survival.)
Age: 42
Race: Althanian. In other words, human
Eyes: Light brown
Hair: Brown, but it’s slowly turning gray from the sides udwards.
Gender: Male
Build: Over 200 lbs of muscle, placed evenly among his body so it is not shaped weird.
Height: Exactly six feet tall.
Skin Color: White
Wardrobe Preference: Though he does not go out into public too often, John has a wide variety of clothing in his closet. The most notable, and thus preferred items include a long brown trench coat, a red baseball style hat, a long navy blue t-shirt, and a pair of khaki cargo pants. In certain situations, he will don on one of four masks; Max Dirks, Ashiakin, Yari Rafanas, and Sei Orlouge. This is so he can catch his targets off guard. In those situations, he also wears the outfits of those whose faces he ‘borrows’. If without a mask, he will simply hide his face underneath the shade of his cap and don a black sweater and black sweat pants. He typically wears black socks and light brown loafers.
Skills:
John is adept in the study of criminal justice, allowing him to rid the area of clues and evidence before he starts one of his works. He has a genius level intelligence that is often implemented in the citadel to create his masterpieces. He is above average in surveillance, often being able to trail somebody through the most remote areas without being detected (by no means is he ever up close to said person, more like 20-50 feet away). He knows of the magics and the technology needed to keep the citadel running, and to keep it’s rooms ever-changing. Just because he has this knowledge, however, does not mean he can actually implement it himself. He knows practically every language Althanas has to offer, even some of the more ancient and forgotten languages. His penmanship is superb, to the point of being able to write a letter in the handwriting of anyone he chooses, so long as he has seen their writing style first.
Abilities:
John has no true abilities per se, other than the ability to make people have epiphanies.
History:
“Damnit Sarge, he did it again,” Liutenant Eric Oak said as he looked at the body, “he killed another one, and once again we don’t have anything on him!”
The stench indicated that the victim had died several weeks prior. An Ai’Bron monk had reported the door to a room in the downtown Radasanth as being locked and nobody could open it. Concerned not only with this fact, but the fact that the room smelled of the dead, the authorities were notified. It took two days to unseal the curse that had been placed on the door, and even then it took three different locksmiths to get all of the locks undone. Whatever was in this room, they had no intention of leaving.
That’s when Oak and his Sargant, Sasori Abner, went into the room to reveal a rotting corpse of what they could have only assumed was a man. There were small dots all over his body, and Abner noticed dozens of mosquitoes flying out of the townhouse. There was no amount of Ai’Bron monk healing that was going to bring this sucker back.
The body had a piece of paper in one hand, clenched for dear life. When the two investigated the paper, it started the same way all the papers did. “There’s A Lesson To Be Learned…”
Upon reading it further, the two discovered that this man was having relations with a girl far under the age limit for such actions against her will. The letter revealed that just as he had sucked the girl’s innocence dry, so now was he to be sucked dry. A few feet from the body was a bucket splattered with a crimson substance. Further investigation had revealed that at one time it was filled with Demon blood. This particular demon blood was quite the aphrodisiac to female mosquitoes, the ones that drank blood. Apparently in order to have escaped, the man was to drink all of the blood from the bucket. The weight on his body would activate a switch just in front of the door that would unseal the door instantly and allow him to escape. However, he had to drink the blood quickly, before the mosquitoes got to it first.
“I guess he didn’t drink it fast enough,” Abner said, “and the mosquitoes wound up eating him alive. Can’t say he didn’t deserve it…”
This comment enraged Oak, “It’s not his right to decide who lives and who dies, Sarge! The Trap Master has been doing stuff like this for four years now and we still don’t have any clues as to who he is! All we know is that he must have studied calligraphy, espionage, and criminal justice thoroughly, because everything we’ve found has been a red herring!”
“Just clean this mess up, maybe the bucket or the body will give something away –this- time,” Abner said as he walked out of the room. He knew that the Trap Master had to be able to watch his victims through some sort of technology or magic, but he didn’t know what, or if anyone was helping him. Sighing in failure, Abner mumbled to himself, “We’ll find you sooner or later you son of a pig. You’ll screw up somehow, and we’ll have your ass. You won’t be getting many more victims, mark my words.”
“The Trap Master’s days are coming to an end…”
(Note: John only traps the truly unworthy and evil in rooms where if they fail, they truly die. All PCs on Althanas will be trapped in Citadel rooms, as John only wants to teach them lessons about themselves. In other words, I am not going to go around randomly killing people’s characters with no chance of survival.)