Post by Sol on Jul 11, 2007 19:03:16 GMT -5
-General Info-
Name: Sol Etienne
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Species: Dhampire
-Apperance-
Hair: Gold-blonde, straight, mid-neck.
Eyes: Green
Height: 5'6
Weight: 114 lbs
Build: Lanky with some muscle tone.
Pictures:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
Cry
Angel?
Action transvestite *LMAO*
Editing pics is fun ;D
-Bio-
Personality: He possesses a superior intelligence, but at times he lets his emotions take precedence and makes mistakes. He's hot-headed, hates authority, and is determined to be the best at everything no matter what the cost. He's only nice to certain people he feels are up to his level, and he says that everyone else can shove off. He has a great dislike for werewolves, but he never speaks aloud of why; many assume it's because of his scarring, but he just gives th excuse that it's from a mob fight.
History: Sol grew up an orphan, not knowing about his abilities or his past in the projects area of a big city; murder, drugs, and the mob were everyday things. His home for fifteen years was a run-down church turned orphanage run by some kind but fierce nuns. He became a pretty tough kid, no matter his size and somewhat feminine looks. He even got himself a high position in a gang, and he had it pretty good for a while. But all that changed before he could bat an eye. One night the apartment complex he lived in was broken into quite violently, and the people responsible were out for Sol. The intruders killed the other few people who lived in the complex and made there way to Sol's room; he was waiting for them patiently, and when the first of them pounced into the room Sol fired his gun. He was shocked to see it was a werewolf, and he knew these guys had been hired. But before he could fire at the other culprits, another werewolf lashed out at him and tore at his face and torso; Sol was left with large scars. The only way Sol was able to escape his assassins was to jump out of his apartment and land three stories onto a huge shrub.
He's been evading the men hunting for him ever since, even though he isn't sure why he's being chased or even who the assassins were hired by. His only goal now is to stay alive, and there's no way he's going to let himself fail easily.
Roleplay Sample: "Dammit!" Sol cursed as he burned his finger yet again on his disposable lighter. That had been the third time he'd done that in a week, and he'd never had trouble with it before. But he was stressed out of his mind, he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in what seemed like ages, and he'd already lost ten pounds out of pure anxiety and inconvenience; it was no wonder he was shaking like a junkie.
He leaned against an ugly brick wall that was part of an even uglier building. He scowled at the whole damn world and wondered what the hell had made life suddenly get so craptastic. He had been on the run for weeks now, and the jerks who were after him weren't bright enough to figure out his hiding places. But how long would that last? How long until he was shot through the head? Nah, it wouldn't be that quick with those guys; they were alleged professionals it seemed, so a shot through the head would be a miracle and a mercy.
His death would be slow if they caught up with him, and he knew it. He eyed his cig and made a face. Slow like emphysema, he decided; and he tossed the cigarette on the cold ground and crushed it with his black boot. "They don't calm me down, anyway." He muttered to himself, and then walked away languidly in the dark shadows that played against the ugly walls.
Password: edited
Name: Sol Etienne
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Species: Dhampire
-Apperance-
Hair: Gold-blonde, straight, mid-neck.
Eyes: Green
Height: 5'6
Weight: 114 lbs
Build: Lanky with some muscle tone.
Pictures:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
Cry
Angel?
Action transvestite *LMAO*
Editing pics is fun ;D
-Bio-
Personality: He possesses a superior intelligence, but at times he lets his emotions take precedence and makes mistakes. He's hot-headed, hates authority, and is determined to be the best at everything no matter what the cost. He's only nice to certain people he feels are up to his level, and he says that everyone else can shove off. He has a great dislike for werewolves, but he never speaks aloud of why; many assume it's because of his scarring, but he just gives th excuse that it's from a mob fight.
History: Sol grew up an orphan, not knowing about his abilities or his past in the projects area of a big city; murder, drugs, and the mob were everyday things. His home for fifteen years was a run-down church turned orphanage run by some kind but fierce nuns. He became a pretty tough kid, no matter his size and somewhat feminine looks. He even got himself a high position in a gang, and he had it pretty good for a while. But all that changed before he could bat an eye. One night the apartment complex he lived in was broken into quite violently, and the people responsible were out for Sol. The intruders killed the other few people who lived in the complex and made there way to Sol's room; he was waiting for them patiently, and when the first of them pounced into the room Sol fired his gun. He was shocked to see it was a werewolf, and he knew these guys had been hired. But before he could fire at the other culprits, another werewolf lashed out at him and tore at his face and torso; Sol was left with large scars. The only way Sol was able to escape his assassins was to jump out of his apartment and land three stories onto a huge shrub.
He's been evading the men hunting for him ever since, even though he isn't sure why he's being chased or even who the assassins were hired by. His only goal now is to stay alive, and there's no way he's going to let himself fail easily.
Roleplay Sample: "Dammit!" Sol cursed as he burned his finger yet again on his disposable lighter. That had been the third time he'd done that in a week, and he'd never had trouble with it before. But he was stressed out of his mind, he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in what seemed like ages, and he'd already lost ten pounds out of pure anxiety and inconvenience; it was no wonder he was shaking like a junkie.
He leaned against an ugly brick wall that was part of an even uglier building. He scowled at the whole damn world and wondered what the hell had made life suddenly get so craptastic. He had been on the run for weeks now, and the jerks who were after him weren't bright enough to figure out his hiding places. But how long would that last? How long until he was shot through the head? Nah, it wouldn't be that quick with those guys; they were alleged professionals it seemed, so a shot through the head would be a miracle and a mercy.
His death would be slow if they caught up with him, and he knew it. He eyed his cig and made a face. Slow like emphysema, he decided; and he tossed the cigarette on the cold ground and crushed it with his black boot. "They don't calm me down, anyway." He muttered to himself, and then walked away languidly in the dark shadows that played against the ugly walls.
Password: edited