Connor Lacuna
03-17-12, 11:35 PM
Name: Connor Grayson Lacuna
Age: 19
Race: Human
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Blue
Height: 5'11" (somewhere around 2 m)
Weight: 223 lbs (101 kg)
Occupation: You pick the fight, I pick the price.
Personality: To say that Connor is a man of action might be an understatement. He's definitely a man who likes things to be done and finished, but you're also dealing with the kind of person that considers a hatchet to the skull to be "A charming icebreaker". He's not to be feared, however, especially not when compared to the kinds of people that he's compared to. Or even the kinds of people he attacks and kills before taking their lunch from them. Connor is a good enough fellow, despite having a tendency to break everything he touches and a certain fondness for kicking things. He's a riot after a few drinks, he's usually gentle (to things that aren't in his way), and his moral code is sensible, if scant. It might help you to know that he doesn't like being lied to, however. [Connor's personality, like his tendency to kick things, is mostly based on Bulletstorm's Grayson Hunt, with a good bit of myself added in].
Appearance: Connor is built enough to get the job done. He's not a giant, but he has enough strength to kick a punk little rogue-type kid into the wall. And then smash an axe into his head. He has short black hair that sometimes looks grey despite his youth, and a big, gorgeous, Leonidas-style beard that covers his roundish chin. Most of the reason for the beard is that chin, since Connor thinks it's too feminine to support the whole tough angry mercenary look. He has enough scars on his face to add ten years to his appearance, but people have died because they thought that his fitness reflected that.
History: Connor wasn't the kind of person that you'd expect to become a decently-paid mercenary. Really, had you known him in his youth, you'd have expected a bookkeeper or a mage out of him. Part of that was the perpetually pale skin, small frame, and the fact that he couldn't grow a beard until six months ago (let alone the luxurious, manly kingdom of hair that sprouts from his jaw now). Actually, that's what his parents expected, too, and that's probably why they're so disappointed in his choice of career now. It really doesn't pay enough, and there's so much more dignity in a scholarly life, they say. Not to his face, of course. They're far meaner then that to him, calling him an axe murderer and complaining about the fact that he can't seem to walk into their house without breaking anything, but they mean the best. Connor was on the path to one of those high-paying jobs, teaching kids to be scribes or keeping a hold of a library. And then he kind of just decided that he didn't want to do that. He bought an axe and swung it a bunch. He worked out. He locked himself in a dingy room at a tavern with a few bottles of bourbon until the first mat of hair grew off of his chin. After that, it seemed, there was nowhere to go but up. He got his first few jobs from the kinds of people that really didn't need the help, but after too long, he was making more money than, well, eh, a bartender or something, I guess. He bought more axes, and a comb (Not for his hair, you see, but for the beard). He got a decent suit of armor. He broke his parents' dinner table. He also broke their tea set, and a few windows.
Skills:
--Very decent with an axe or two.
--Cooks a mean potato stew.
--Particuarly good at breaking things.
--Second to none at beard grooming.
Abilities:
--Strong enough to lift a boulder. Or, more accurately, capable of lifting around his own weight.
--Agile enough to do things like climb ropes and vault obstacles, as well as some basic parkour. He's also very capable over short distances, but wasted on cross-country.
--Can swing and throw axes.
Equipment:
--Two steel axes. He doesn't usually dual-wield, but he sometimes flings one at an enemy.
--A set of strikingly mediocre steel plate armor.
--An imposing, sculpted beard.
--A few days' worth of supplies, and a utility knife, flint and steel, and the like.
Age: 19
Race: Human
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Blue
Height: 5'11" (somewhere around 2 m)
Weight: 223 lbs (101 kg)
Occupation: You pick the fight, I pick the price.
Personality: To say that Connor is a man of action might be an understatement. He's definitely a man who likes things to be done and finished, but you're also dealing with the kind of person that considers a hatchet to the skull to be "A charming icebreaker". He's not to be feared, however, especially not when compared to the kinds of people that he's compared to. Or even the kinds of people he attacks and kills before taking their lunch from them. Connor is a good enough fellow, despite having a tendency to break everything he touches and a certain fondness for kicking things. He's a riot after a few drinks, he's usually gentle (to things that aren't in his way), and his moral code is sensible, if scant. It might help you to know that he doesn't like being lied to, however. [Connor's personality, like his tendency to kick things, is mostly based on Bulletstorm's Grayson Hunt, with a good bit of myself added in].
Appearance: Connor is built enough to get the job done. He's not a giant, but he has enough strength to kick a punk little rogue-type kid into the wall. And then smash an axe into his head. He has short black hair that sometimes looks grey despite his youth, and a big, gorgeous, Leonidas-style beard that covers his roundish chin. Most of the reason for the beard is that chin, since Connor thinks it's too feminine to support the whole tough angry mercenary look. He has enough scars on his face to add ten years to his appearance, but people have died because they thought that his fitness reflected that.
History: Connor wasn't the kind of person that you'd expect to become a decently-paid mercenary. Really, had you known him in his youth, you'd have expected a bookkeeper or a mage out of him. Part of that was the perpetually pale skin, small frame, and the fact that he couldn't grow a beard until six months ago (let alone the luxurious, manly kingdom of hair that sprouts from his jaw now). Actually, that's what his parents expected, too, and that's probably why they're so disappointed in his choice of career now. It really doesn't pay enough, and there's so much more dignity in a scholarly life, they say. Not to his face, of course. They're far meaner then that to him, calling him an axe murderer and complaining about the fact that he can't seem to walk into their house without breaking anything, but they mean the best. Connor was on the path to one of those high-paying jobs, teaching kids to be scribes or keeping a hold of a library. And then he kind of just decided that he didn't want to do that. He bought an axe and swung it a bunch. He worked out. He locked himself in a dingy room at a tavern with a few bottles of bourbon until the first mat of hair grew off of his chin. After that, it seemed, there was nowhere to go but up. He got his first few jobs from the kinds of people that really didn't need the help, but after too long, he was making more money than, well, eh, a bartender or something, I guess. He bought more axes, and a comb (Not for his hair, you see, but for the beard). He got a decent suit of armor. He broke his parents' dinner table. He also broke their tea set, and a few windows.
Skills:
--Very decent with an axe or two.
--Cooks a mean potato stew.
--Particuarly good at breaking things.
--Second to none at beard grooming.
Abilities:
--Strong enough to lift a boulder. Or, more accurately, capable of lifting around his own weight.
--Agile enough to do things like climb ropes and vault obstacles, as well as some basic parkour. He's also very capable over short distances, but wasted on cross-country.
--Can swing and throw axes.
Equipment:
--Two steel axes. He doesn't usually dual-wield, but he sometimes flings one at an enemy.
--A set of strikingly mediocre steel plate armor.
--An imposing, sculpted beard.
--A few days' worth of supplies, and a utility knife, flint and steel, and the like.