Post by hannah montana on Jul 23, 2007 23:12:42 GMT -5
Name- Clarik Aiden.
Age- 17 years old.
Date of Birth- December 31.
Homelands- Chicago, IL
Race- vampire
Class- Black Mage
Final-
Sacred Nightmare
When Clarik finally reaches the point of exhaustion, his body exerts one more blast of extreme energy it has locked away.
Made of mostly dark energy. Afterwards, Clarik falls into a coma of sorts for at the very least a few hours.
{Weapon information}
Black Knuckles
A pair of brass knuckles covered in a rich, black paint with spots of crimson from the old blood of his enemies.
These knuckles not only look cool and are very easy for him to carry around, they pack quite the punch as they channel his energy. Not only will you be getting punched in the face by an emo kid, you'll be getting punched in the face by an emo kid and his dark energy.
The Black Knuckles empower him, as most weapons do for their owners, as well as helps him with his spells.
{Armour Information}
Bullet-Proof Vest
A simple, black bullet-proof vest.
Could it be for decoration, protection, or bragging rights? Only Clark really knows. But there is a small police emblem on the side, reading "CHICAGO" in red letters marked out by a black Sharpie.
{Accessory Information}
Chaos Ring
A somewhat large, dragon-shaped ring through Clarik's left ear.
Allows Clarik to hear the thoughts of others.
{Physical Description}
Clarik's skin is lightly tanned from being on the streets quite a lot, his eyes a piercing, emerald green. He's tall, at 6'2'', and very slender. There is a tattoo of a heart on his forearm that he constantly hides with gloves, sleeves, and bands. It seems that there was a name printed in the center of the heart previously, but there is a large bunch of scars where it used to be. Clarik is free of piercings, except for his left ear, where the dragon-like charm hangs happily. His rich, black hair is usually hiding half of his face behind its dark curtain, while the back is spiked crazily.
Clarik can usually be found wearing a long sleeved, black shirt, hiding his tattoo. Unlike the other emos, you'll find him with baggy jeans; with the pockets full of cigs and his Black Knuckles, of course. He's been known to've been wearing the same pair of beaten, black Vans for the past 3 years in a row.
{Background}
Clarik never once met his parents or really bothered to think about them, safe at his place at the orphanage, and happily doing chores and helping out where he could. He was a favorite among the volunteers and workers alike and always had a smile on his chubby, kiddish face. Clarik's favorite place to be? Outside.
Fifteen years later, he began to get very bad burns from the sun; something very unusual that had never happened before. He began to eat a lot more meat than the other children, and his once strawberry blonde hair began to darken as he grew taller and his teeth got sharper and longer. One of his concerned volunteer friends took him to a doctor, who grimaced when he saw the boy. He talked to the volunteer in private, who's eyes grew wider as the doctor revealed what he thought was happening. But when they went back to the room they had left Clarik in, he had disappeared.
..............
"Sure I'm sure. I know what I'm doing, don't worry...Look, if you're that scared I'm going to forget you..." Clarik sighed from the payphone a few streets away from the doctor's office. He shivered in his jean jacket. "Meet me at the tat place, all right? You've got your fake ID, right? And make sure you bring me some cigs, baby." He hung up the phone, and stepped onto the street once more.
Clarik ran across traffic, jumping over a car to avoid being hit once. He had found out why he could always run faster than everybody else. Why he could always jump higher and eat more than everybody else. Why he was more handsome. Why his canine teeth stuck out. Why this, why that.
Wasn't it obvious? And that's why he had ran from the doctor's.
He showed up at the tattoo place just in time. Clarik saw a blonde girl walk in and chased after her.
"Heather!" he shouted, then ran up to wrap his arms around her.
"Clarik, don't leave me!" she cried into his shoulder.
"I have to," Clarik replied. "I can't tell you why, but I have to. But I promise I'll never forget you." He looked up at his friend Little Jon, the owner, and nodded. "I'll never ever forget you."
................
Clarik sat alone on the swing set, the sky black. He blew out a puff of smoke, then flicked the cigerette to the ground and smushed it with his shoe. He sighed, looking at the tattoo of Heather's name in the center of a heart on his forearm. Clarik frowned.
What was so special in her, anyway? What did she ever do for him? Why remember a name forever if you forget the face? Why have someone you love's name on your arm? Someone could just come up and decide to kill them from that. Someone could...
He took out his pocket knife and flicked up the blade, blowing out one final bit of smoke before he began to dig the knife into his forearm, into the cursive "Heather," as the tattoo heart began to bleed for the very first time.
...........
During the next two years, the days were spent lazily asleep in wherever he could find unoccupied at the time, and the nights were spent getting involved in fights where he ended up beating the living crap out of every human he came across. He stole his Black Knuckles from a human, and was happy to find out that they aided him with his vampiric energy as well.
Two years of hiding and fighting later, Clarik heard about a special place where he wouldn't have to stay hidden anymore. Twilight Moon Academy. Clarik shrugged. What did he have to lose?
{Picture}
Age- 17 years old.
Date of Birth- December 31.
Homelands- Chicago, IL
Race- vampire
Class- Black Mage
Final-
Sacred Nightmare
When Clarik finally reaches the point of exhaustion, his body exerts one more blast of extreme energy it has locked away.
Made of mostly dark energy. Afterwards, Clarik falls into a coma of sorts for at the very least a few hours.
----------------------------
{Weapon information}
Black Knuckles
A pair of brass knuckles covered in a rich, black paint with spots of crimson from the old blood of his enemies.
These knuckles not only look cool and are very easy for him to carry around, they pack quite the punch as they channel his energy. Not only will you be getting punched in the face by an emo kid, you'll be getting punched in the face by an emo kid and his dark energy.
The Black Knuckles empower him, as most weapons do for their owners, as well as helps him with his spells.
{Armour Information}
Bullet-Proof Vest
A simple, black bullet-proof vest.
Could it be for decoration, protection, or bragging rights? Only Clark really knows. But there is a small police emblem on the side, reading "CHICAGO" in red letters marked out by a black Sharpie.
{Accessory Information}
Chaos Ring
A somewhat large, dragon-shaped ring through Clarik's left ear.
Allows Clarik to hear the thoughts of others.
{Physical Description}
Clarik's skin is lightly tanned from being on the streets quite a lot, his eyes a piercing, emerald green. He's tall, at 6'2'', and very slender. There is a tattoo of a heart on his forearm that he constantly hides with gloves, sleeves, and bands. It seems that there was a name printed in the center of the heart previously, but there is a large bunch of scars where it used to be. Clarik is free of piercings, except for his left ear, where the dragon-like charm hangs happily. His rich, black hair is usually hiding half of his face behind its dark curtain, while the back is spiked crazily.
Clarik can usually be found wearing a long sleeved, black shirt, hiding his tattoo. Unlike the other emos, you'll find him with baggy jeans; with the pockets full of cigs and his Black Knuckles, of course. He's been known to've been wearing the same pair of beaten, black Vans for the past 3 years in a row.
{Background}
Clarik never once met his parents or really bothered to think about them, safe at his place at the orphanage, and happily doing chores and helping out where he could. He was a favorite among the volunteers and workers alike and always had a smile on his chubby, kiddish face. Clarik's favorite place to be? Outside.
Fifteen years later, he began to get very bad burns from the sun; something very unusual that had never happened before. He began to eat a lot more meat than the other children, and his once strawberry blonde hair began to darken as he grew taller and his teeth got sharper and longer. One of his concerned volunteer friends took him to a doctor, who grimaced when he saw the boy. He talked to the volunteer in private, who's eyes grew wider as the doctor revealed what he thought was happening. But when they went back to the room they had left Clarik in, he had disappeared.
..............
"Sure I'm sure. I know what I'm doing, don't worry...Look, if you're that scared I'm going to forget you..." Clarik sighed from the payphone a few streets away from the doctor's office. He shivered in his jean jacket. "Meet me at the tat place, all right? You've got your fake ID, right? And make sure you bring me some cigs, baby." He hung up the phone, and stepped onto the street once more.
Clarik ran across traffic, jumping over a car to avoid being hit once. He had found out why he could always run faster than everybody else. Why he could always jump higher and eat more than everybody else. Why he was more handsome. Why his canine teeth stuck out. Why this, why that.
Wasn't it obvious? And that's why he had ran from the doctor's.
He showed up at the tattoo place just in time. Clarik saw a blonde girl walk in and chased after her.
"Heather!" he shouted, then ran up to wrap his arms around her.
"Clarik, don't leave me!" she cried into his shoulder.
"I have to," Clarik replied. "I can't tell you why, but I have to. But I promise I'll never forget you." He looked up at his friend Little Jon, the owner, and nodded. "I'll never ever forget you."
................
Clarik sat alone on the swing set, the sky black. He blew out a puff of smoke, then flicked the cigerette to the ground and smushed it with his shoe. He sighed, looking at the tattoo of Heather's name in the center of a heart on his forearm. Clarik frowned.
What was so special in her, anyway? What did she ever do for him? Why remember a name forever if you forget the face? Why have someone you love's name on your arm? Someone could just come up and decide to kill them from that. Someone could...
He took out his pocket knife and flicked up the blade, blowing out one final bit of smoke before he began to dig the knife into his forearm, into the cursive "Heather," as the tattoo heart began to bleed for the very first time.
...........
During the next two years, the days were spent lazily asleep in wherever he could find unoccupied at the time, and the nights were spent getting involved in fights where he ended up beating the living crap out of every human he came across. He stole his Black Knuckles from a human, and was happy to find out that they aided him with his vampiric energy as well.
Two years of hiding and fighting later, Clarik heard about a special place where he wouldn't have to stay hidden anymore. Twilight Moon Academy. Clarik shrugged. What did he have to lose?
{Picture}
