Tigereye
08-01-06, 05:36 AM
(I am totally taking a page out of Pourquoi’s book with this profile, but it works. Especially as the two will be working with each other should all go according to plan. And her player didn't complain. Anyways, hopefully this'll go through.)
The consul waited patiently at her desk. The subject of her inquiry was late, which was not unexpected given the reports on his attitude, but it was still slightly miffing. She almost called to send someone out to search for this stray they'd picked up, but just at that moment he stepped in.
She had to admit he had a sort of dashing exotic grace about him, from the honeyed tan of his skin over toned muscles, to the fang tattoos at the corners of his eyes and the tiger-like stripes that patterned his arms, back, and probably even legs, to his oddly patterned close cropped hair, to the softly furred elven ears that adorned the sides of his head. Twitching with insolence, she noticed. They would have to fix that with time, he tended to carry a far too disrespectful air about him.
Personality:
After waiting for a few minutes form him to explain himself while he just sat looking bored, the consul finally decided to at least break the silence.
"You're late. It would be the least you could do to be punctual."
"So? It's not like I asked you to rescue me."
Well, at least he'd decided to respond this time, she though actinically. His ears were twitching again; she could pick up traces of amusement in his general demeanor. He was toying with her. That, she would not tolerate,
"The Spirit Hunters are a very prestigious organization. You should be flattered even to be here to meet with me, not to mention your 'other' circumstances," She stopped suddenly, in order to reorganize her phrasing. He could be useful, she didn't want to push his buttons too badly, apparently he'd been noted to have a slight temper, though there were anecdotes to that saying he didn’t hold grudges either, "It wouldn't kill you to at least play along."
"Fine, fine..." The young tigeroid gave an exaggerated sigh, no doubt for effect, as his primary response. But it was completely ruined by the subsequent smirk. Still, at least there seemed to be SOME progress with the insufferable baboon. "What do you want to know?"
History:
"What is it that made you decide you wanted to join us?" She would start off with the most basic, and direct, line of questioning. Although she knew he would probably dodge the bullet yet again, he always had in the past from her reports.
"Since when did I decide to join up? Last I heard, it was you folks who propositioned me."
Yep, he'd completely sidestepped his actual intent. She already knew the reason, but she'd hoped to hear some of it from his own lips and phrasing. From reports he'd apparently jumped in front of a fireball tossed by some sorcerer or another in order to protect some children. By the time the agents had heard about it and arrived, they'd expected him to be burnt to a crisp... but somehow he'd managed to hold out against this person, with no visible powers of his own. (Though it was true he was more than just slightly charred when they'd managed to get to him.) Further testing revealed that he had a slight magical resistance, but he hadn't known that at the time... so why had he jumped in front of the initial blast?
It wasn't that hard to figure out, so the consul just decided to move on.
"Fine then, past training and skills?"
"I was raised by a crazy old man in the middle of nowhere who seemed to enjoy beating the crap out of me. We didn't even really use names. I guess he taught me some hand to hand combat and stuff... he kicked me out shortly before I showed up here."
The consul forced herself not to roll her eyes at him, even though he didn't seem averse at all to rolling his eyes at her. He was grossly exaggerating and misleading yet again. To call this young elf in front of her decent in unarmed combat would not be an overstatement. It had to have been some sort of master of the art that taught him, even if the insolent young man had some distance to go before he himself could be called a master. As it was he still little trouble thrashing many of the trainees who were training with actual weapons in sparring drills, and that was ignoring some of his other abilities. Unfortunately trying to get him to talk about his past was similar in difficulty to trying to pull teeth from a dragon. Luckily the young man in front of her did not possess fire breath. However, he had proven his ability and intelligence on multiple occasions already as he was recovering. Plus, she felt no disturbing vibes from him... and so...
"Fine, be that way. I had simply wanted a chance to go over some things with you before making things official, but you seem as ornery as ever. So let’s just skip the formalities. Welcome to the Spirit Hunters, C'est Vrai." She didn't mention that meeting him in person was required, the reports on his actions were too ambiguous to tell what was in his heart, as it was she could only feel a glimpse, but that was enough.
"Whatever. Err, thanks I guess. I'll go now." He looked irritated, and his ears were twitching again. But the consul thought he seemed more embarrassed than anything else. She chuckled, inside her head at least, as he stalked out from under the tent.
Gracefully though, even then.
Name: C'est Vrai
Age: Young Adult
Race: Elvish. Tigerfolk?
Hair Color: Fiery Orange, with black strips and white at the temples.
Eye Color: Golden Amber
Height: 6'1
Weight: 220
Appearance: He generally wears the same set of misshapen, baggy, illfitting ragged pants with a knotted rope for a belt. Rather than a shirt, he has bandage like strips of white cloth wrapped around his abdomen and over one shoulder, which is also seen wrapping his hands and feet. He doesn't wear shoes. For all that he has a small frame for his height, he is very densely built and muscled. Under the stripes, muscles, tan skin, and furry ears, he still appears fairly elvish. Especially in that he's probably too pretty to be male, at least as his old master used to put it. And his oddly feline features merely add an exotic flare.
Skills: While he did grow up alone with an old man in the middle of nowhere, it was very nice nowhere, with mountainous terrain, trees, and even a lake of sorts. So he's fairly self sufficient at wilderness survival lore, and he enjoys swimming. (Though he's hardly an all-star at it.) But aside from his unarmed combat (above average) and some small ability with a sling (Average), he doesn't have much in the way of marketable skill.
He does have one special technique that his master taught him, called Knife Hands, in which he manipulates his spirit to form cutting edges around his limbs. These projections, while sharp, only have a durability similar to a hardwood. However, until they reach their shattering point they will show no signs of wear. When they break its highly draining on him, but as long as he has fighting energy he can form more.
Abilities: He has one key ability that stands out, a slight magical resistance. Weak magic doesn't work very well at all, magic about on par with his level will probably be reduced to about half impact, but as it gets stronger than him the amount his resistance will protect him gets less and less. This ability works best on illusions and mind-altering effects, because while magic itself has a harder time affecting him, the outside effects of the magic can still do damage. (For instance, even if he completely throws of a sorcerous spell meant to make him explode in flame... that still doesn't affect the area around him, and if the air around you suddenly ignites you DO get burned.) Also, while he doesn't heal any FASTER than other people, he does seem to suffer from less lasting effects from his injuries for some reason.
Equipment: An extra roll of the bandages he uses to adorn himself, (he only has one pair of pants.) a sack of small stones and a sling. And a very light (see worn and patched) cloak.
The consul waited patiently at her desk. The subject of her inquiry was late, which was not unexpected given the reports on his attitude, but it was still slightly miffing. She almost called to send someone out to search for this stray they'd picked up, but just at that moment he stepped in.
She had to admit he had a sort of dashing exotic grace about him, from the honeyed tan of his skin over toned muscles, to the fang tattoos at the corners of his eyes and the tiger-like stripes that patterned his arms, back, and probably even legs, to his oddly patterned close cropped hair, to the softly furred elven ears that adorned the sides of his head. Twitching with insolence, she noticed. They would have to fix that with time, he tended to carry a far too disrespectful air about him.
Personality:
After waiting for a few minutes form him to explain himself while he just sat looking bored, the consul finally decided to at least break the silence.
"You're late. It would be the least you could do to be punctual."
"So? It's not like I asked you to rescue me."
Well, at least he'd decided to respond this time, she though actinically. His ears were twitching again; she could pick up traces of amusement in his general demeanor. He was toying with her. That, she would not tolerate,
"The Spirit Hunters are a very prestigious organization. You should be flattered even to be here to meet with me, not to mention your 'other' circumstances," She stopped suddenly, in order to reorganize her phrasing. He could be useful, she didn't want to push his buttons too badly, apparently he'd been noted to have a slight temper, though there were anecdotes to that saying he didn’t hold grudges either, "It wouldn't kill you to at least play along."
"Fine, fine..." The young tigeroid gave an exaggerated sigh, no doubt for effect, as his primary response. But it was completely ruined by the subsequent smirk. Still, at least there seemed to be SOME progress with the insufferable baboon. "What do you want to know?"
History:
"What is it that made you decide you wanted to join us?" She would start off with the most basic, and direct, line of questioning. Although she knew he would probably dodge the bullet yet again, he always had in the past from her reports.
"Since when did I decide to join up? Last I heard, it was you folks who propositioned me."
Yep, he'd completely sidestepped his actual intent. She already knew the reason, but she'd hoped to hear some of it from his own lips and phrasing. From reports he'd apparently jumped in front of a fireball tossed by some sorcerer or another in order to protect some children. By the time the agents had heard about it and arrived, they'd expected him to be burnt to a crisp... but somehow he'd managed to hold out against this person, with no visible powers of his own. (Though it was true he was more than just slightly charred when they'd managed to get to him.) Further testing revealed that he had a slight magical resistance, but he hadn't known that at the time... so why had he jumped in front of the initial blast?
It wasn't that hard to figure out, so the consul just decided to move on.
"Fine then, past training and skills?"
"I was raised by a crazy old man in the middle of nowhere who seemed to enjoy beating the crap out of me. We didn't even really use names. I guess he taught me some hand to hand combat and stuff... he kicked me out shortly before I showed up here."
The consul forced herself not to roll her eyes at him, even though he didn't seem averse at all to rolling his eyes at her. He was grossly exaggerating and misleading yet again. To call this young elf in front of her decent in unarmed combat would not be an overstatement. It had to have been some sort of master of the art that taught him, even if the insolent young man had some distance to go before he himself could be called a master. As it was he still little trouble thrashing many of the trainees who were training with actual weapons in sparring drills, and that was ignoring some of his other abilities. Unfortunately trying to get him to talk about his past was similar in difficulty to trying to pull teeth from a dragon. Luckily the young man in front of her did not possess fire breath. However, he had proven his ability and intelligence on multiple occasions already as he was recovering. Plus, she felt no disturbing vibes from him... and so...
"Fine, be that way. I had simply wanted a chance to go over some things with you before making things official, but you seem as ornery as ever. So let’s just skip the formalities. Welcome to the Spirit Hunters, C'est Vrai." She didn't mention that meeting him in person was required, the reports on his actions were too ambiguous to tell what was in his heart, as it was she could only feel a glimpse, but that was enough.
"Whatever. Err, thanks I guess. I'll go now." He looked irritated, and his ears were twitching again. But the consul thought he seemed more embarrassed than anything else. She chuckled, inside her head at least, as he stalked out from under the tent.
Gracefully though, even then.
Name: C'est Vrai
Age: Young Adult
Race: Elvish. Tigerfolk?
Hair Color: Fiery Orange, with black strips and white at the temples.
Eye Color: Golden Amber
Height: 6'1
Weight: 220
Appearance: He generally wears the same set of misshapen, baggy, illfitting ragged pants with a knotted rope for a belt. Rather than a shirt, he has bandage like strips of white cloth wrapped around his abdomen and over one shoulder, which is also seen wrapping his hands and feet. He doesn't wear shoes. For all that he has a small frame for his height, he is very densely built and muscled. Under the stripes, muscles, tan skin, and furry ears, he still appears fairly elvish. Especially in that he's probably too pretty to be male, at least as his old master used to put it. And his oddly feline features merely add an exotic flare.
Skills: While he did grow up alone with an old man in the middle of nowhere, it was very nice nowhere, with mountainous terrain, trees, and even a lake of sorts. So he's fairly self sufficient at wilderness survival lore, and he enjoys swimming. (Though he's hardly an all-star at it.) But aside from his unarmed combat (above average) and some small ability with a sling (Average), he doesn't have much in the way of marketable skill.
He does have one special technique that his master taught him, called Knife Hands, in which he manipulates his spirit to form cutting edges around his limbs. These projections, while sharp, only have a durability similar to a hardwood. However, until they reach their shattering point they will show no signs of wear. When they break its highly draining on him, but as long as he has fighting energy he can form more.
Abilities: He has one key ability that stands out, a slight magical resistance. Weak magic doesn't work very well at all, magic about on par with his level will probably be reduced to about half impact, but as it gets stronger than him the amount his resistance will protect him gets less and less. This ability works best on illusions and mind-altering effects, because while magic itself has a harder time affecting him, the outside effects of the magic can still do damage. (For instance, even if he completely throws of a sorcerous spell meant to make him explode in flame... that still doesn't affect the area around him, and if the air around you suddenly ignites you DO get burned.) Also, while he doesn't heal any FASTER than other people, he does seem to suffer from less lasting effects from his injuries for some reason.
Equipment: An extra roll of the bandages he uses to adorn himself, (he only has one pair of pants.) a sack of small stones and a sling. And a very light (see worn and patched) cloak.