Post by Lighty on Dec 4, 2006 17:29:48 GMT -5
Name- Oliver Morgan
Age- 18
Date of Birth- 31 May
Homelands- City of Garbeeb, Gereshner- born, lived and learnt there.
Race- Human
Class- Elementalist
Final- Metal Cast
A pool of molten metal that will encase any poor soul who gets near it
----------------------------
{Weapon information}
Razor Blades
Thin sheets of metal, usually about the side of an A6 piece of paper. diaganol cut at eaither side.
So used to being changed by his power, they will easily change into other weapons- sword, dagger and the such like. They have a tendancy that if left for a long time without him thinking about them to return to razor blade form.
{Armour Information}
He has no armour unless, in battle, he has enough metal to mold a case that envelops his torso.
{Accessory Information}
Quartz Orb
A small round globe shaped object, apearing to be made of a misty polished quartz stone.
Using this orb the bearer can summon Avihs, the ice godess of lore. She has half the health of the summoner and can preform high grade ice spells. Naturally, any ice spells directed at her will heal her rather than harm her.
{Physical Description}
To all appearance and purpose he seems human, though no one is quite sure. He is quite tall, with a lean frame, but could never be described as lanky. He had a good vocabulary and use to find it easy to have a manner and speech that seemed superior.
His actual appearance is nothing particular, his face, some may say has a sort of charm, and he has the sweetest smile, that he uses scarce enough. Tousled hair, that he has let grow a fair length, has grown into rough curls. Dyed orange at the ends, rich chestnut for the rest, and it fringes across dark grey eyes, that glint
His clothes also use to put him out of place. Black or dark brown trousers of any sort that nearly cover brown leather boots, steel lined. The boots regularly tear at the edges of the trousers.
He wears plain white shirts under a open waistcoat, deep blue or dark red in colour.
{Background}
Oliver’s parent’s belonged to a gang in Garbeeb, one of the famous market cities in Gereshnar, and by default so did he. The gang was like others, using it’s members to gain respect and rewards and so, at an early age he split from his parents to another branch of the gang. In this respect he was favoured, lucky to be in one of the main gangs and not born to one of commoner origin. He’d lived in the streets all his life, the bases of the gang his home and the members his mentors. He had few friends as he was regularly used for gang business, being small and flexible when young he was useful for narrow spaces.
He first found out his power at the age of eight, though sometimes he wished it hadn’t happened at all, he’d been begging some of the guards to teach him to tumble. Razor blades. A fine trick if it ever got mastered by a person, handy in fights aswell, though reluctant the men gave in. Eager, and maybe too hasty, he started learning.
On his first try with three of the blades, soon to become his favoured weapon, one slipped in his hand but instead of the deep gash that nature’s law demanded, he got liquid metal dripping through his fingers. Of course, he suddenly had more training in the gang, metal working was useful for a thief or a fighter, though usually it was more the case of push a button and hope with the results of his gift he got trained in higher arts as a consequence.
Now 18, his power had been noticed, finding the letter at his bed he resolved to see what it was about. He’d be curious to the point of nosy as a child always wanting to know how things worked, and the academy had sparked an interest. Also he’d been wanting to leave the gang, by tradition gangs were for life to the point that if you wanted to leave, the gang would oblige by knife, but this was a way out. A golden opportunity or some would say, Oliver merely packed his stuff and left.
{Pictures}
No picture.
Age- 18
Date of Birth- 31 May
Homelands- City of Garbeeb, Gereshner- born, lived and learnt there.
Race- Human
Class- Elementalist
Final- Metal Cast
A pool of molten metal that will encase any poor soul who gets near it
----------------------------
{Weapon information}
Razor Blades
Thin sheets of metal, usually about the side of an A6 piece of paper. diaganol cut at eaither side.
So used to being changed by his power, they will easily change into other weapons- sword, dagger and the such like. They have a tendancy that if left for a long time without him thinking about them to return to razor blade form.
{Armour Information}
He has no armour unless, in battle, he has enough metal to mold a case that envelops his torso.
{Accessory Information}
Quartz Orb
A small round globe shaped object, apearing to be made of a misty polished quartz stone.
Using this orb the bearer can summon Avihs, the ice godess of lore. She has half the health of the summoner and can preform high grade ice spells. Naturally, any ice spells directed at her will heal her rather than harm her.
{Physical Description}
To all appearance and purpose he seems human, though no one is quite sure. He is quite tall, with a lean frame, but could never be described as lanky. He had a good vocabulary and use to find it easy to have a manner and speech that seemed superior.
His actual appearance is nothing particular, his face, some may say has a sort of charm, and he has the sweetest smile, that he uses scarce enough. Tousled hair, that he has let grow a fair length, has grown into rough curls. Dyed orange at the ends, rich chestnut for the rest, and it fringes across dark grey eyes, that glint
His clothes also use to put him out of place. Black or dark brown trousers of any sort that nearly cover brown leather boots, steel lined. The boots regularly tear at the edges of the trousers.
He wears plain white shirts under a open waistcoat, deep blue or dark red in colour.
{Background}
Oliver’s parent’s belonged to a gang in Garbeeb, one of the famous market cities in Gereshnar, and by default so did he. The gang was like others, using it’s members to gain respect and rewards and so, at an early age he split from his parents to another branch of the gang. In this respect he was favoured, lucky to be in one of the main gangs and not born to one of commoner origin. He’d lived in the streets all his life, the bases of the gang his home and the members his mentors. He had few friends as he was regularly used for gang business, being small and flexible when young he was useful for narrow spaces.
He first found out his power at the age of eight, though sometimes he wished it hadn’t happened at all, he’d been begging some of the guards to teach him to tumble. Razor blades. A fine trick if it ever got mastered by a person, handy in fights aswell, though reluctant the men gave in. Eager, and maybe too hasty, he started learning.
On his first try with three of the blades, soon to become his favoured weapon, one slipped in his hand but instead of the deep gash that nature’s law demanded, he got liquid metal dripping through his fingers. Of course, he suddenly had more training in the gang, metal working was useful for a thief or a fighter, though usually it was more the case of push a button and hope with the results of his gift he got trained in higher arts as a consequence.
Now 18, his power had been noticed, finding the letter at his bed he resolved to see what it was about. He’d be curious to the point of nosy as a child always wanting to know how things worked, and the academy had sparked an interest. Also he’d been wanting to leave the gang, by tradition gangs were for life to the point that if you wanted to leave, the gang would oblige by knife, but this was a way out. A golden opportunity or some would say, Oliver merely packed his stuff and left.
{Pictures}
No picture.
