Post by Chains on Feb 27, 2009 2:40:52 GMT -5
Name/Alias: He introduces himself as “Chains,” to all those unfortunate enough to make his acquaintance, but whether that’s his true name or a pseudonym it’s difficult to tell. He will occasionally and very rarely refer to his person not with a different alias, but with a title of sorts: either “The Clockwork Angel,” the “Machine Dancer” or the “Gear Wing.” What these mean is unknown.
Age: Physically, Chains looks to be about mid twenties. In actuality, he’s older than that estimate by several thousand centuries and a couple odd years.
Memories(remember/forgotten): He remembers.
Religion: His own.
Personal Philosophy: "Of all that is written, I love only what a person has written with their own blood”
Personality: Chains is, without a doubt, one of the most singularly and summarily nasty beings one could hope to cross paths with. He doesn’t look physically menacing, but he’ll be the first to tell you that if you judge by outward appearances alone, you don’t deserve to have eyes to judge with. As a rule, this generally ends with the removal of either one or both of the offending sensory organs. Equipped with a bloodthirsty humor, a ruthless intelligence, and a grim sense of fate, Chains has perfected the smile into an omen of impending carnage. Perhaps his worst attribute however, is a deep-rooted and perverse enjoyment of suffering. Nothing gives him greater satisfaction than to see an individual (himself included in an odd, masochistic twist) ground down under the heel of life.
Race/Creature: Physically resembles a man, but his race is probably associated with one of his “titles”: Most commonly called the Clockwork Angel, despite his obvious lack of wings.
Date of Birth: Unknown
Talents/Flaws: Above-human reflexes, speed, and wit. Has the ability to see a wider range of colors- including some of the UV and infrared spectrums, and the regular darkness of night poses no challenges to his senses. His flaws include his predictable and moribund fascination for witnessing/meting out calamity. While this makes him a ruthless individual, it alienates him from most everyone else. He is all but ally-less and his foreseeable obsession with disaster provides others with the difficult but do-able opportunity of getting the better of him.
Tattoos/Scars: Down the entirety of his back, Chains boasts a massive tattoo of interlocking and interconnected gears.
Home(land/world/town): Noosetown
Mental/Physical Illnesses: Aside from a fascination with the rougher side of fate? Not really.
Occupation: He is unclear about this. Sometimes he claims to be a Priest, other times a God. Right now, he says he is looking for the Fulcrum.
Hobbies/Interests: Macabre humor, perfecting his deaths-head-grin, goldfish, and blood-letting.
Pick two items you will awaken with in your possession in the City of Animus? You may only pick two, so please think it through: A weapon he calls his Switchblade when in reality it’s more of a spring-assisted knife: six-inch long blade, released by pressing downwards on a tiny lever in the handle. And a tiny pocket, glass face surrounded by a bone exterior, looped through a rusted chain. Its hands are permanently frozen at half past three.
Past Life (if memory is retained): His memories are largely intact for the most part, but Chains dips into them sparingly. He knows enough to not want to know more. And he is quite content with where he is now.
Age: Physically, Chains looks to be about mid twenties. In actuality, he’s older than that estimate by several thousand centuries and a couple odd years.
Memories(remember/forgotten): He remembers.
Religion: His own.
Personal Philosophy: "Of all that is written, I love only what a person has written with their own blood”
Personality: Chains is, without a doubt, one of the most singularly and summarily nasty beings one could hope to cross paths with. He doesn’t look physically menacing, but he’ll be the first to tell you that if you judge by outward appearances alone, you don’t deserve to have eyes to judge with. As a rule, this generally ends with the removal of either one or both of the offending sensory organs. Equipped with a bloodthirsty humor, a ruthless intelligence, and a grim sense of fate, Chains has perfected the smile into an omen of impending carnage. Perhaps his worst attribute however, is a deep-rooted and perverse enjoyment of suffering. Nothing gives him greater satisfaction than to see an individual (himself included in an odd, masochistic twist) ground down under the heel of life.
Race/Creature: Physically resembles a man, but his race is probably associated with one of his “titles”: Most commonly called the Clockwork Angel, despite his obvious lack of wings.
Date of Birth: Unknown
Talents/Flaws: Above-human reflexes, speed, and wit. Has the ability to see a wider range of colors- including some of the UV and infrared spectrums, and the regular darkness of night poses no challenges to his senses. His flaws include his predictable and moribund fascination for witnessing/meting out calamity. While this makes him a ruthless individual, it alienates him from most everyone else. He is all but ally-less and his foreseeable obsession with disaster provides others with the difficult but do-able opportunity of getting the better of him.
Tattoos/Scars: Down the entirety of his back, Chains boasts a massive tattoo of interlocking and interconnected gears.
Home(land/world/town): Noosetown
Mental/Physical Illnesses: Aside from a fascination with the rougher side of fate? Not really.
Occupation: He is unclear about this. Sometimes he claims to be a Priest, other times a God. Right now, he says he is looking for the Fulcrum.
Hobbies/Interests: Macabre humor, perfecting his deaths-head-grin, goldfish, and blood-letting.
Pick two items you will awaken with in your possession in the City of Animus? You may only pick two, so please think it through: A weapon he calls his Switchblade when in reality it’s more of a spring-assisted knife: six-inch long blade, released by pressing downwards on a tiny lever in the handle. And a tiny pocket, glass face surrounded by a bone exterior, looped through a rusted chain. Its hands are permanently frozen at half past three.
Past Life (if memory is retained): His memories are largely intact for the most part, but Chains dips into them sparingly. He knows enough to not want to know more. And he is quite content with where he is now.