Mar 6, 2020 10:38 am
Hi folks, having recently just returned to the site I find myself looking for a game or two outwith the one I am GM'ing currently. I'm interested predominantly in 5E, but have been known to also dabble in freeform style games if the opportunity arises for one. I've posted below several character samples across different game types, more to give you an idea of what to expect from me in terms of my character concepts and writing style than anything else.
If there are any suitable games going looking for a replacement/new player, or if anyone is thinking of starting one and is looking for a player feel free to fire me a message.
If there are any suitable games going looking for a replacement/new player, or if anyone is thinking of starting one and is looking for a player feel free to fire me a message.
[ +- ] Jesnil Zegronn
Name: Jesnill Zegronn
Race: Human
Class: Fighter
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Appearance: There is no getting past it -- Jesnill Zegronn looks much the part that you would expect a warrior to look. From the steel armour that he encases himself within, to the fearsome looking blade that is belted to his waist, Jesnill certainly wears the aura of one who could carve you limb from limb if he so desires.
It is a look that he has perfected, and there is nobody more adept at subverting expectations than Jesnill. If one were to look closer into his dark eyes though, they would see the gleaming light of intellect combined with insidious avarice.
Appearance wise, there is nothing that truly stands out about him, and most would perhaps quickly look past him, seeing nothing than a hired thug standing before them. Such dismissal is a dangerous thing though, and would leave one potentially with a serpent at their back poised to strike.
Personality: Who am I? The truth is such -- you only see what I want you to see. This truth is more than you could ever even begin to comprehend.
Manipulative and deceitful, Jesnill is the coiled serpent dressed in the finest velvet. His poison drips from honeyed words and forked tongue. Simply put, this man who is infinitely more than he appears on the surface only allows the observer to see what he wants them to see. Equally adept at playing the mindless simpleton as he is the sycophantic bootlicker, the most dangerous weapon he has is not the sword that he has belted to his waist.
Deceptively clever, Jesnill is happy to lean on the stereotypical viewpoint that most swordsmen are nothing more than muscle-bound, woollen-headed clods. In fact, he leans on that stereotype as it means that when he sinks the dagger into the back of his latest victim, they are not aware of the fact that this man can play the game better than most.
Politically devious and sharp as a tack, Jesnill is capable of using his natural charisma to devastating effect, and at the point that the latest recipient of his maneuverings realise that they have been played, it is already too late.
There is a reason for his behaviour, and it is one that is hidden deep inside the core of his being. Jesnill is bitter. He believes that life owes him for the circumstances of his birth, and he is determined to collect. He genuinely does not care who he has to screw over to get there. Jumping at the chance to join the expedition to the Stolen Lands, Jesnill sees opportunity calling. He sees the chance to finally make his mark, and his avarice and ambition force him to join the contingent. He will claim the opportunity that he is owed, and that life has finally given to him.
Strangely enough, given his penchant for deception and his lust for power, Jesnill has several admirable traits. He is a man of many masks, and he has a mask for every occasion, however for those few who have earned his friendship and respect, they are exempt from his machinations. He takes his friendships very seriously and indeed treasures these connections. Jesnill, due to his background and his games, leads a lonely life, but for those in his inner circle, they act as his link to humanity. They serve as a reminder that there are some things outside of his bitterness that are worth fighting for. They, in turn, see the true Jesnill. The man behind the masks and the games. They see the lonely, weary man who seems to be battling for his place in a life that threatens to leave him behind.
Backstory: The smooth-tongued mediator Jesnill Zegronn appeared in the court of House Medyed seemingly overnight as one of the Lord's personal guard contingent. He rose up in the House's favour very quickly, and whispers seemed to indicate that he had the ear of Lord Gurev Medyed - despite his outward appearance indicating that he was a bodyguard to the Lord. Where he came from, however, was a subject of much conjecture and discussion, however, his true origins are shrouded in a mystery that only he knows the truth of.
Jesnill saw the Medved's as nothing more than simple-minded farmers and tenders of goats, and he easily intertwined himself in the hearts and minds of the ruling family. His martial abilities were very impressive, surpassed only by his abilities of deception. He quickly became invaluable to them, and from there he had the starting point in which to launch his own machinations and schemes. Still young, Jesnill's star burned brightly, and it seemed that the stars themselves could not prove to be a barrier to his ascension.
Jesnill saw Lord Noleski Surtova's Charter as a sign from the gods themselves -- a symbol of their favour. Here was the opportunity that he had waited for all his life. This was his chance -- a chance to tame the Stolen Lands, and to forge his own Kingdom and name out of the ashes that had come before. He lobbied hard for Gurev's permission to act as House Medyed's envoy on this mission. He promised his Lord that he would bring glory and prestige to their name -- and as he whispered false promises inwardly he vowed to forge his own legacy. For Lord Medyed's part, it was easy enough to add Jesnill as part of the expedition, citing the youngsters martial abilities as reason for his representation of House Medyed.
Race: Human
Class: Fighter
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Appearance: There is no getting past it -- Jesnill Zegronn looks much the part that you would expect a warrior to look. From the steel armour that he encases himself within, to the fearsome looking blade that is belted to his waist, Jesnill certainly wears the aura of one who could carve you limb from limb if he so desires.
It is a look that he has perfected, and there is nobody more adept at subverting expectations than Jesnill. If one were to look closer into his dark eyes though, they would see the gleaming light of intellect combined with insidious avarice.
Appearance wise, there is nothing that truly stands out about him, and most would perhaps quickly look past him, seeing nothing than a hired thug standing before them. Such dismissal is a dangerous thing though, and would leave one potentially with a serpent at their back poised to strike.
Personality: Who am I? The truth is such -- you only see what I want you to see. This truth is more than you could ever even begin to comprehend.
Manipulative and deceitful, Jesnill is the coiled serpent dressed in the finest velvet. His poison drips from honeyed words and forked tongue. Simply put, this man who is infinitely more than he appears on the surface only allows the observer to see what he wants them to see. Equally adept at playing the mindless simpleton as he is the sycophantic bootlicker, the most dangerous weapon he has is not the sword that he has belted to his waist.
Deceptively clever, Jesnill is happy to lean on the stereotypical viewpoint that most swordsmen are nothing more than muscle-bound, woollen-headed clods. In fact, he leans on that stereotype as it means that when he sinks the dagger into the back of his latest victim, they are not aware of the fact that this man can play the game better than most.
Politically devious and sharp as a tack, Jesnill is capable of using his natural charisma to devastating effect, and at the point that the latest recipient of his maneuverings realise that they have been played, it is already too late.
There is a reason for his behaviour, and it is one that is hidden deep inside the core of his being. Jesnill is bitter. He believes that life owes him for the circumstances of his birth, and he is determined to collect. He genuinely does not care who he has to screw over to get there. Jumping at the chance to join the expedition to the Stolen Lands, Jesnill sees opportunity calling. He sees the chance to finally make his mark, and his avarice and ambition force him to join the contingent. He will claim the opportunity that he is owed, and that life has finally given to him.
Strangely enough, given his penchant for deception and his lust for power, Jesnill has several admirable traits. He is a man of many masks, and he has a mask for every occasion, however for those few who have earned his friendship and respect, they are exempt from his machinations. He takes his friendships very seriously and indeed treasures these connections. Jesnill, due to his background and his games, leads a lonely life, but for those in his inner circle, they act as his link to humanity. They serve as a reminder that there are some things outside of his bitterness that are worth fighting for. They, in turn, see the true Jesnill. The man behind the masks and the games. They see the lonely, weary man who seems to be battling for his place in a life that threatens to leave him behind.
Backstory: The smooth-tongued mediator Jesnill Zegronn appeared in the court of House Medyed seemingly overnight as one of the Lord's personal guard contingent. He rose up in the House's favour very quickly, and whispers seemed to indicate that he had the ear of Lord Gurev Medyed - despite his outward appearance indicating that he was a bodyguard to the Lord. Where he came from, however, was a subject of much conjecture and discussion, however, his true origins are shrouded in a mystery that only he knows the truth of.
Jesnill saw the Medved's as nothing more than simple-minded farmers and tenders of goats, and he easily intertwined himself in the hearts and minds of the ruling family. His martial abilities were very impressive, surpassed only by his abilities of deception. He quickly became invaluable to them, and from there he had the starting point in which to launch his own machinations and schemes. Still young, Jesnill's star burned brightly, and it seemed that the stars themselves could not prove to be a barrier to his ascension.
Jesnill saw Lord Noleski Surtova's Charter as a sign from the gods themselves -- a symbol of their favour. Here was the opportunity that he had waited for all his life. This was his chance -- a chance to tame the Stolen Lands, and to forge his own Kingdom and name out of the ashes that had come before. He lobbied hard for Gurev's permission to act as House Medyed's envoy on this mission. He promised his Lord that he would bring glory and prestige to their name -- and as he whispered false promises inwardly he vowed to forge his own legacy. For Lord Medyed's part, it was easy enough to add Jesnill as part of the expedition, citing the youngsters martial abilities as reason for his representation of House Medyed.
[ +- ] Valonus
Valonus
Cursed Magus
Race: Human
Class: Magus
Archetype: Bladebound
Age: 26
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Why would I come to this dark place? The answer is simple I say. The land is cursed,
but it is no more cursed than I. And when two cursed beings come into contact with each other, well perhaps one of us will find the answers we seek. I belong here, this is my home.
Appearance: Valonus, despite his own personal circumstances, still cuts an imposing figure. It is perhaps a manifestation of the powers that he wields, or the experiences that he has been through.
Valonus's sharp, angled features frame eyes of the deepest blue. Those eyes....they have seen much in his relatively short life, and the shadows that lie within twin pools of azure show a glimpse into the man's shadowed soul. And despite the smooth, easy smile that crosses his face in an attempt to set those who watch him at ease -- those haunted eyes tell a different story entirely.
Clothes spun from the finest cloth and material tell the story of his upbringing. Despite the lowly circumstances and the actions that have led him to wander the land like a common adventurer, Valonus still exudes the nobility that is his birthright.
Strapped to his waist is his a blade of darkest ebony. Little would anyone realise upon looking upon this blade, that he calls Lillith, that there was a very personal secret hidden within its metal frame -- one that has directed the course Valonus has walked and continues to walk today.
Personality: Valonus is a man wracked with guilt. The crux of the matter is that deep at heart, Valonus is not a bad person. Far from it, buried deep down under the bitterness, he does have a kind nature and a gentle soul, however, he has made some very stupid mistakes and he has paid the price for it.
Valonus is also a man consumed with obsession. He is obsessed at finding the source of the curse that he has been placed under and that has bound the lost soul within his blade. Nothing will stand in his way in his attempts to free the soul from the blade, regardless of the consequences. And indeed, Valonus must take care that his obsession does not cause him to make the same mistakes that he made all those years ago.
Backstory: Valonus was born to a life of luxury, to a noble's life in the land of Andoran. Valonus never wanted for anything since his birth, and he was usually spoiled by his parents. However, do not confuse Valonus's family or parents for kind people. They were not, and the abuses and excesses suffered by the servants that worked in the house were shielded from Valonus's eyes.
For all that he had, or all that he thought he had, Valonus lacked a certain "something". An important thing that he needed. His life was a pristine, manufactured thing, buts that what it was -- manufactured, cold, empty, listless. He had no direction, and no real affection from his parents. Their approach was to throw money at him in the belief it would be sufficient for any parental duties that they would otherwise be held accountable for. For the disaffected, attention starved youth, he soon found direction that otherwise lacked. That direction took the form of the girl that would soon become his soulmate, a raven haired beauty by the name of Lillith. One of his father's servants.
Valonus shared everything with her. His innermost thoughts, his desires, every single little thing about him and all of his deepest secrets. After time went by, Valonus gradually realised that he had fallen in love with Lillith, and he was determined to break her out of her life of slavery. One night, he bared his soul to Lillith. Told her his plan, how he was going to break her out, where they were going to go, and most crucially of all, how much that he loved her. Lillith, for her part, whispered sweet nothings back to him, platitudes that he had her heart. There was just one problem.
It was all a lie.
Lillith saw an opportunity, and she manipulated poor Valonus's emotions against him. She figured that if she clung to him, use his influence over his father that she could gain his ear, and that she could manufacture a better life for herself. She never had any intention of "running away into the setting sun" with him, and indeed truly despised him for such childish notions.
Only she took things one step further.
Valonus, smitten, allowed Lillith access to his private chambers. There, she took personal belongings from him, secreting then away on her person. She then murdered another servant, stashing Valonus's items on the body. Framing him for the murder, Lillith accused him to his father, and his father....he believed it.
Lillith laughed at Valonus as he was taken away. She mocked him, telling him that she would never want to be with someone like him. Humiliated, shamed and heartbroken, Valonus was beaten almost to death before being thrown into a prison to rot.
That night, broken, battered and scorned, Valonus was approached by a mysterious figure cloaked from head to toe in white robes.
The figure told him that they had witnessed what had happened, and offered him vengeance against Lillith. All he had to do was wish it. And Valonus, his heart and soul tainted by anger made a wish. He wished that Lillith was bound to him, heart and soul, figuring that using the wish in this manner would make her love him. Yet it was a trick, and Valonus had unbeknowingly played right into the figure's hands. The wish was made, but it was twisted.
Lillith's body, heart and soul was sucked into the form of an ebony dagger. For all intensive purposes, she was no more, bound as she was to the dagger.
But Valonus did not know this. All he knew and saw was a flash of white light, so bright that he lost consciousness. When he woke, the door to his cell was opened and the path to freedom lay in front of him, opened by the mysterious figure. At his feet an ebony dagger that called to him. He picked it up, and made his way out, escaping into the night, lost and alone now. He did not question why, or how, he was only glad to be free. Nor did he think to question what had become of Lillith.
This he would discover in time.
Valonus was free.....or was he? His freedom was at a price, as was his "rescuers" intention. As he wandered, lost and confused, he realised that he had nowhere to go to, nowhere to call home. It was a short while after this that Valonus began to realise that there was something wrong with the ebony dagger. It began as what seemed to be random intrusions into his mind. A familiar voice cursing him and wishing him ill. He tried to block out the voice but was unable to. As time went on, Valonus realised that the voices and the mutterings became stronger the closer he was to the blade.
Puzzled, Valonus sought out aid to divine what was happening to him and discover the true nature of the blade.
It was then that Valonus discovered the truth about the blade, and specifically the soul that was trapped within it. Just as he realised that he had been tricked, bound as he was to a dagger that had the soul of someone whom he had trapped within it because of his own jealousy and anger at being spurned.
Since that day, Valonus has wandered from place to place, seeking a way to undo what he has wrought, if such a thing is possible. Born with the spark of magic inside of him, Valonus reasoned that whoever his mysterious "helper" was, they had had to have used magic of their own to ensorcel Lillith's soul within the blade. Gathering his coin, Valonus presented himself at the doorstep of a wizard, and bought himself basic tutelage in magic and instructions on how to control the powers that he wielded.
Valonus came to Vaurn in search of rumours and half-truths. He has heard the rumours of the creeping doom, seen the creeping wasting sickness that consumes the land of Ustalav with his own eyes. What begun as him simply following the trail of the stranger in white has become something else, and Valonus has convinced himself, in his own eyes, that the stranger has a part to play in the coming apocalypse. Perhaps the monks hold the answers, not just to the coming apocalypse, but his own personal apocalypse. Many have beseeched him his aid, but in the years that have passed since Lillith's consumption, his bitterness has increased. He has no great desire to play the hero or be a saviour or defender of the weak. He simply wishes to find a way to undo his own curse.
Should it be that in doing so, Valonus's curse and the curse of the world begin to intertwine as one, then he will not shy away from doing what he must. For now though, the selfish, embittered man cares only in releasing his soul and one other from the neverending cycle of torment that they both find themselves trapped in. For one, a prison of the heart, and the other, a prison forged from darkest ebony.
Cursed Magus
Race: Human
Class: Magus
Archetype: Bladebound
Age: 26
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Why would I come to this dark place? The answer is simple I say. The land is cursed,
but it is no more cursed than I. And when two cursed beings come into contact with each other, well perhaps one of us will find the answers we seek. I belong here, this is my home.
Appearance: Valonus, despite his own personal circumstances, still cuts an imposing figure. It is perhaps a manifestation of the powers that he wields, or the experiences that he has been through.
Valonus's sharp, angled features frame eyes of the deepest blue. Those eyes....they have seen much in his relatively short life, and the shadows that lie within twin pools of azure show a glimpse into the man's shadowed soul. And despite the smooth, easy smile that crosses his face in an attempt to set those who watch him at ease -- those haunted eyes tell a different story entirely.
Clothes spun from the finest cloth and material tell the story of his upbringing. Despite the lowly circumstances and the actions that have led him to wander the land like a common adventurer, Valonus still exudes the nobility that is his birthright.
Strapped to his waist is his a blade of darkest ebony. Little would anyone realise upon looking upon this blade, that he calls Lillith, that there was a very personal secret hidden within its metal frame -- one that has directed the course Valonus has walked and continues to walk today.
Personality: Valonus is a man wracked with guilt. The crux of the matter is that deep at heart, Valonus is not a bad person. Far from it, buried deep down under the bitterness, he does have a kind nature and a gentle soul, however, he has made some very stupid mistakes and he has paid the price for it.
Valonus is also a man consumed with obsession. He is obsessed at finding the source of the curse that he has been placed under and that has bound the lost soul within his blade. Nothing will stand in his way in his attempts to free the soul from the blade, regardless of the consequences. And indeed, Valonus must take care that his obsession does not cause him to make the same mistakes that he made all those years ago.
Backstory: Valonus was born to a life of luxury, to a noble's life in the land of Andoran. Valonus never wanted for anything since his birth, and he was usually spoiled by his parents. However, do not confuse Valonus's family or parents for kind people. They were not, and the abuses and excesses suffered by the servants that worked in the house were shielded from Valonus's eyes.
For all that he had, or all that he thought he had, Valonus lacked a certain "something". An important thing that he needed. His life was a pristine, manufactured thing, buts that what it was -- manufactured, cold, empty, listless. He had no direction, and no real affection from his parents. Their approach was to throw money at him in the belief it would be sufficient for any parental duties that they would otherwise be held accountable for. For the disaffected, attention starved youth, he soon found direction that otherwise lacked. That direction took the form of the girl that would soon become his soulmate, a raven haired beauty by the name of Lillith. One of his father's servants.
Valonus shared everything with her. His innermost thoughts, his desires, every single little thing about him and all of his deepest secrets. After time went by, Valonus gradually realised that he had fallen in love with Lillith, and he was determined to break her out of her life of slavery. One night, he bared his soul to Lillith. Told her his plan, how he was going to break her out, where they were going to go, and most crucially of all, how much that he loved her. Lillith, for her part, whispered sweet nothings back to him, platitudes that he had her heart. There was just one problem.
It was all a lie.
Lillith saw an opportunity, and she manipulated poor Valonus's emotions against him. She figured that if she clung to him, use his influence over his father that she could gain his ear, and that she could manufacture a better life for herself. She never had any intention of "running away into the setting sun" with him, and indeed truly despised him for such childish notions.
Only she took things one step further.
Valonus, smitten, allowed Lillith access to his private chambers. There, she took personal belongings from him, secreting then away on her person. She then murdered another servant, stashing Valonus's items on the body. Framing him for the murder, Lillith accused him to his father, and his father....he believed it.
Lillith laughed at Valonus as he was taken away. She mocked him, telling him that she would never want to be with someone like him. Humiliated, shamed and heartbroken, Valonus was beaten almost to death before being thrown into a prison to rot.
That night, broken, battered and scorned, Valonus was approached by a mysterious figure cloaked from head to toe in white robes.
The figure told him that they had witnessed what had happened, and offered him vengeance against Lillith. All he had to do was wish it. And Valonus, his heart and soul tainted by anger made a wish. He wished that Lillith was bound to him, heart and soul, figuring that using the wish in this manner would make her love him. Yet it was a trick, and Valonus had unbeknowingly played right into the figure's hands. The wish was made, but it was twisted.
Lillith's body, heart and soul was sucked into the form of an ebony dagger. For all intensive purposes, she was no more, bound as she was to the dagger.
But Valonus did not know this. All he knew and saw was a flash of white light, so bright that he lost consciousness. When he woke, the door to his cell was opened and the path to freedom lay in front of him, opened by the mysterious figure. At his feet an ebony dagger that called to him. He picked it up, and made his way out, escaping into the night, lost and alone now. He did not question why, or how, he was only glad to be free. Nor did he think to question what had become of Lillith.
This he would discover in time.
Valonus was free.....or was he? His freedom was at a price, as was his "rescuers" intention. As he wandered, lost and confused, he realised that he had nowhere to go to, nowhere to call home. It was a short while after this that Valonus began to realise that there was something wrong with the ebony dagger. It began as what seemed to be random intrusions into his mind. A familiar voice cursing him and wishing him ill. He tried to block out the voice but was unable to. As time went on, Valonus realised that the voices and the mutterings became stronger the closer he was to the blade.
Puzzled, Valonus sought out aid to divine what was happening to him and discover the true nature of the blade.
It was then that Valonus discovered the truth about the blade, and specifically the soul that was trapped within it. Just as he realised that he had been tricked, bound as he was to a dagger that had the soul of someone whom he had trapped within it because of his own jealousy and anger at being spurned.
Since that day, Valonus has wandered from place to place, seeking a way to undo what he has wrought, if such a thing is possible. Born with the spark of magic inside of him, Valonus reasoned that whoever his mysterious "helper" was, they had had to have used magic of their own to ensorcel Lillith's soul within the blade. Gathering his coin, Valonus presented himself at the doorstep of a wizard, and bought himself basic tutelage in magic and instructions on how to control the powers that he wielded.
Valonus came to Vaurn in search of rumours and half-truths. He has heard the rumours of the creeping doom, seen the creeping wasting sickness that consumes the land of Ustalav with his own eyes. What begun as him simply following the trail of the stranger in white has become something else, and Valonus has convinced himself, in his own eyes, that the stranger has a part to play in the coming apocalypse. Perhaps the monks hold the answers, not just to the coming apocalypse, but his own personal apocalypse. Many have beseeched him his aid, but in the years that have passed since Lillith's consumption, his bitterness has increased. He has no great desire to play the hero or be a saviour or defender of the weak. He simply wishes to find a way to undo his own curse.
Should it be that in doing so, Valonus's curse and the curse of the world begin to intertwine as one, then he will not shy away from doing what he must. For now though, the selfish, embittered man cares only in releasing his soul and one other from the neverending cycle of torment that they both find themselves trapped in. For one, a prison of the heart, and the other, a prison forged from darkest ebony.
[ +- ] Cain
Name: Cain Harper
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Role: Skill Monkey, Silver Tongue (Persuasion and Social)
Appearance: Meticulously groomed, with brown hair coming down to the nape of his neck with nary a hair out of place. Brown eyes gaze with an inner gleam. Cain is slight of build, with not an ounce of fat on him. The only blemish on his otherwise perfect features is a scar running just over and under his lips on the right hand side of his mouth. On his left shoulder, Cain has a striking tattoo of a celtic sun covered by a flaming orange and yellow sun.
Personality: Quiet, softly spoken and mysterious, Cain is every inch the enigmatic high-flying, high-society millionaire's son thrust into an end of the world scenario that he can barely understand or come to terms with. Cain doesn't speak much, but then he doesn't have to. A look from his smouldering brown eyes can make most members of the fairer sex desire to give away their souls for him if he would so desire it -- and this is something that Cain uses to truly devastating effect.
Manipulative and devious, Cain puts himself first and foremost in all situations. He is spoiled, his parents having given him his every whim and desire. To a certain extent, Cain sees other people as puppets and playthings -- objects to be manipulated for his own amusement and entertainment. As long as he gets what he wants out of a situation then Cain is perfectly content.
On the surface that is.
There are those precious few who have taken the time to truly get to know Cain who can attest to the fact that hidden underneath, this strangely tormented individual is more complex than they could possibly even begin to imagine, and this is a trait that manifests itself in the strangest and most random of ways. An act of genuine kindness to a lost child, helping them to find their way home. The sparing of coin to a starving beggar to allow them to eat -- only Cain truly knows what drives Cain, and to most others he is a puzzle wrapped up in the finest cloth.
Motivations: Cain is an empty shell born into an empty, hollow world. He is trapped in the worst sort of cycle possible. Cain hopes to distance himself from his parents and forge his own identity, yet he does not have the faintest idea how to do so. His life is a pristine, manufactured thing - perfect in every way yet lacking warmth and love, just like himself as a person. Inside he is desperately cold and numb, so he seeks to make himself feel something through any exterior means possible. Cain is a hedonist and he does not know how to break it.
Yet his insatiable appetites do not give him what he so desperately needs. As a result of his continued perceived failures and his inability to feel genuine warmth and emotion, so his self-hatred and loathing grows. And as it does, he is spurred onto acts of greater debauchery, his lusts and passions never truly being fulfilled.
A cycle he does not know how to begin to break free from.
Backstory: Cain lifted a finger up to touch his lips as he turned his look to the woman asking him about his past. Fixing her dark eyes with his own, the corners of his mouth turned up in a slight, almost ghost-like smile. As precious seconds slipped like grains of sand in a hourglass in this dying world, the young man started to wonder if things would ever....go back to the way they used to be.
Finally, with a small sigh he bowed his head slightly, looking to the ground as he opened his lips, and the slightest of whispers broke the silence, "My, but aren't you the curious one. You know what they say? That curiosity killed the cat...."
His voice trailed off in a small chuckle as he continued, "I have always lived here in Seattle. I was born here into a life of riches and luxury." Looking around him, Cain gestures to his meagre surroundings. It hadn't always been like this, scraping around for survival with ambitions nothing more than to survive another day. "Ironically, I remember as a young boy thinking that there was more to this life than this.....incessant nothingness. Being a millionaire playboy isn't as easy as one might think. Each and every day being given everything that you ever wanted, never having to fight or earn anything. The strangest thing was....."
Standing, Cain walked over to the run-down shack that he was now forced to dwell within. Touching rotted wood, his eyes took on a faraway look. "......I remember from a early age I'd wished for something more. Adventure. Excitement. All things that I lacked aside from manipulating and turning the poor bastard sycophants who came seeking my favour against each other."
Sighing softly, Cain turned back to regard her, "Strange as it is to admit that, in some ways, as much as I wasn't ready.....I wanted this life we now lead. I grew up in my parents manor. I had the best teachings and tutors that money could buy. I learned how to twist and manipulate to get my hearts desire. There were few who could resist me." Laughing again softly, he continued, "There were many who wanted me to be their friend. There were many whom I took as lover. But even so, there were none who wanted to be with me for me. All they were interested in was the colour of my money. Strange to say, but even as much as I was never alone, I was at the same time the loneliest person in the world. Sad to admit isn't it?"
Cain sat on the wooden floor. He crossed his legs, leaning down and propping his head up in his hands. His eyes went misty, almost as if he was remembering a time far removed. "I'd actually only just came back home when the world went to hell....." His eyes glistened with moisture, held there for a second removed from eternity before he brought his hand up, wiping away the tears.
Colouring slightly, almost as if embarrassed by his moment of weakness, Cain continued his story. "I went to study abroad. Mother and father's money paid for my education and my trip. Aside from that though, I had something to prove to myself. I was me. Cain Harper. Not my mother, nor my father. I was not an extension of their being.....I was my own person and damned if I wouldn't learn to cope on my own, and not on their coattails."
Cain clenched his left hand into a fist, remembering the cruel taunts of his fathers friends as they mocked him for being "daddy's spoiled little boy". "I was......am......a hedonist. I learned to live life as fully as I could. The best clubs. The most exclusive parties. I would have a plastic faced dolly girl on each arm, baseless, without dignity. I had plastic, cardboard cutouts masquerading as people wanting to be my friend. They used me, even as I used them to feed my own desires, so that I would grasp, even if only for a second, the blessed illusion that I was alive, that I did breathe. That my heart did indeed beat beneath my chest and pumped blood through my veins. Even abroad, even in England money talked and my family name and reputation spread far, far beyond what I ever thought it would."
His voice was tinged with unexpected sadness and bitterness, and perhaps it was at that moment that the girl listening to him realised the truth about Cain. That yes, he was a manipulative, selfish man, and he was, as he had admitted, a hedonist. Living a life of debauchery, Cain was a prisoner to his own lifestyle and his family name. That as much as he lived life on the edge, it was, in the end, a hollow, empty thing. Cain wished to escape his own heritage, and in that regard he was a prisoner locked away in a cold, stone cell without the key to a door that would set him free.
Regardless, the usually softly spoken Cain was surprised in a lot of ways at his own verbosity. Perhaps this one, this strange girl had found a strange kinship with the isolated social creature manufactured by a fake society.
Noticing the girl staring at the scar on his lip, Cain brought his finger up, tracing an imaginary line across the pale mark that marred his otherwise perfect features. Another of those ghostlike smiles made it's way across his face as he looked down to the floor.
"This.....this scar? That, my dear, is a story for another day." Cain looked down to the floor for a second before continuing, "I returned home, and found my home......and the world, had gone to ****."[/FIELDSET]
Greeting the Apocaypse: Cain lights up a cigarette. It was strange that in this messed up world that had deteriorated as much as this one that the smallest things that were once taken for granted became a blessed relief. As he took a puff, blowing a small ring of smoke into the air, only the slightest tremble in his arms betrayed the depths of Cain's horror as he was forced to relive that terrible day.
"I woke." There was a tremor in Cain's voice as he closed his eyes, taking another drag on the cigarette. "I woke to screams and blood."
Closing his eyes, Cain pictured the scene almost as if it were one unfolding in front of him right now. "I hadn't even been back any more than a couple of days before the world changed....." Standing, Cain walked over to the girl. He drew her in, holding her close, almost as if she was his only link.....his anchor to reality, to stop the horror of the world around them destroying him.
"The screams stopped. When I went out, I found them all......I've -- I've never seen anything like it. They were all.....twisted.....contorted." Holding onto her, he tightened his grasp around her, clenching the fabric of her jacket tightly in his fist. "There was blood everywhere. They.....they had been tearing at themselves......"
As the images flashed in front of his eyes, Cain's voice broke, and he could not bring himself to say what he had seen with his own eyes. They had torn great furrows into their own flesh......tore their own eyes out in unspeakable agony.....
".....Mother, Father.....Miranda. I was the only one alive." Choking back a sob, Cain continued, "I.....I ran. I didn't know what else to do. I ran from the house. And as the world died around me, I just kept running...... And I wondered.........why?"
Why had I survived when everyone else had died?
Strengths: 1) Cain is a jack of all trades -- master of none. Perhaps the product of a misspent youth, however there are few situations that he does not have some passing knowledge of. Picking locks? Check. Hotwiring? Done it. He is a useful auxiliary person to have around, just dont ask him to fight.
2) Master of the silver tongue. Cain certainly knows how to use his charm to devastating effect. With that silver tongue of his, there are few situations that he cannot twist to his advantage or talk his way out of. It is what has kept him alive so far.
3) Deceptively tough. Despite being slight of frame, Cain is deceptively tough. He can, and has, taken a beating in his life both mentally and physically. For one such as him to survive in this tough world, he has to be. No matter how many times you keep beating him down, he comes back -- again and again and again. That mental fortitude is invaluable in the apocalyptic wasteland he lives in.
Weaknesses: 1) Haunted. Cain is haunted by the ghost of someone he cares deeply for, in a spiritual and emotional sense. A girl, Katy, whom he loved very deeply. The circumstances of her death is something he will never speak of, yet it is something that haunts his every waking moment, and something that he blames himself for. Until he puts that particular ghost to rest, he will never be free of his demons.
2) Addictions. Cain suffers from withdrawals. Needing to take things to block out the horrible nightmarish visions of his parents and families death, and over time he became more and more dependent on them to get by.
3) Self-Loathing. Cain's self-loathing is complex, and it runs very, very deep inside of him. It was what caused him initially to descend into the life of debauchery and excess that he lived prior to the rise of the dead. Seeking an exit from the hopeless, cold world that he lived in, what he found was the reality of the situation he became trapped in was far, far worse than the one he left behind. Yet, he does not know how to escape from it.....
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Role: Skill Monkey, Silver Tongue (Persuasion and Social)
Appearance: Meticulously groomed, with brown hair coming down to the nape of his neck with nary a hair out of place. Brown eyes gaze with an inner gleam. Cain is slight of build, with not an ounce of fat on him. The only blemish on his otherwise perfect features is a scar running just over and under his lips on the right hand side of his mouth. On his left shoulder, Cain has a striking tattoo of a celtic sun covered by a flaming orange and yellow sun.
Personality: Quiet, softly spoken and mysterious, Cain is every inch the enigmatic high-flying, high-society millionaire's son thrust into an end of the world scenario that he can barely understand or come to terms with. Cain doesn't speak much, but then he doesn't have to. A look from his smouldering brown eyes can make most members of the fairer sex desire to give away their souls for him if he would so desire it -- and this is something that Cain uses to truly devastating effect.
Manipulative and devious, Cain puts himself first and foremost in all situations. He is spoiled, his parents having given him his every whim and desire. To a certain extent, Cain sees other people as puppets and playthings -- objects to be manipulated for his own amusement and entertainment. As long as he gets what he wants out of a situation then Cain is perfectly content.
On the surface that is.
There are those precious few who have taken the time to truly get to know Cain who can attest to the fact that hidden underneath, this strangely tormented individual is more complex than they could possibly even begin to imagine, and this is a trait that manifests itself in the strangest and most random of ways. An act of genuine kindness to a lost child, helping them to find their way home. The sparing of coin to a starving beggar to allow them to eat -- only Cain truly knows what drives Cain, and to most others he is a puzzle wrapped up in the finest cloth.
Motivations: Cain is an empty shell born into an empty, hollow world. He is trapped in the worst sort of cycle possible. Cain hopes to distance himself from his parents and forge his own identity, yet he does not have the faintest idea how to do so. His life is a pristine, manufactured thing - perfect in every way yet lacking warmth and love, just like himself as a person. Inside he is desperately cold and numb, so he seeks to make himself feel something through any exterior means possible. Cain is a hedonist and he does not know how to break it.
Yet his insatiable appetites do not give him what he so desperately needs. As a result of his continued perceived failures and his inability to feel genuine warmth and emotion, so his self-hatred and loathing grows. And as it does, he is spurred onto acts of greater debauchery, his lusts and passions never truly being fulfilled.
A cycle he does not know how to begin to break free from.
Backstory: Cain lifted a finger up to touch his lips as he turned his look to the woman asking him about his past. Fixing her dark eyes with his own, the corners of his mouth turned up in a slight, almost ghost-like smile. As precious seconds slipped like grains of sand in a hourglass in this dying world, the young man started to wonder if things would ever....go back to the way they used to be.
Finally, with a small sigh he bowed his head slightly, looking to the ground as he opened his lips, and the slightest of whispers broke the silence, "My, but aren't you the curious one. You know what they say? That curiosity killed the cat...."
His voice trailed off in a small chuckle as he continued, "I have always lived here in Seattle. I was born here into a life of riches and luxury." Looking around him, Cain gestures to his meagre surroundings. It hadn't always been like this, scraping around for survival with ambitions nothing more than to survive another day. "Ironically, I remember as a young boy thinking that there was more to this life than this.....incessant nothingness. Being a millionaire playboy isn't as easy as one might think. Each and every day being given everything that you ever wanted, never having to fight or earn anything. The strangest thing was....."
Standing, Cain walked over to the run-down shack that he was now forced to dwell within. Touching rotted wood, his eyes took on a faraway look. "......I remember from a early age I'd wished for something more. Adventure. Excitement. All things that I lacked aside from manipulating and turning the poor bastard sycophants who came seeking my favour against each other."
Sighing softly, Cain turned back to regard her, "Strange as it is to admit that, in some ways, as much as I wasn't ready.....I wanted this life we now lead. I grew up in my parents manor. I had the best teachings and tutors that money could buy. I learned how to twist and manipulate to get my hearts desire. There were few who could resist me." Laughing again softly, he continued, "There were many who wanted me to be their friend. There were many whom I took as lover. But even so, there were none who wanted to be with me for me. All they were interested in was the colour of my money. Strange to say, but even as much as I was never alone, I was at the same time the loneliest person in the world. Sad to admit isn't it?"
Cain sat on the wooden floor. He crossed his legs, leaning down and propping his head up in his hands. His eyes went misty, almost as if he was remembering a time far removed. "I'd actually only just came back home when the world went to hell....." His eyes glistened with moisture, held there for a second removed from eternity before he brought his hand up, wiping away the tears.
Colouring slightly, almost as if embarrassed by his moment of weakness, Cain continued his story. "I went to study abroad. Mother and father's money paid for my education and my trip. Aside from that though, I had something to prove to myself. I was me. Cain Harper. Not my mother, nor my father. I was not an extension of their being.....I was my own person and damned if I wouldn't learn to cope on my own, and not on their coattails."
Cain clenched his left hand into a fist, remembering the cruel taunts of his fathers friends as they mocked him for being "daddy's spoiled little boy". "I was......am......a hedonist. I learned to live life as fully as I could. The best clubs. The most exclusive parties. I would have a plastic faced dolly girl on each arm, baseless, without dignity. I had plastic, cardboard cutouts masquerading as people wanting to be my friend. They used me, even as I used them to feed my own desires, so that I would grasp, even if only for a second, the blessed illusion that I was alive, that I did breathe. That my heart did indeed beat beneath my chest and pumped blood through my veins. Even abroad, even in England money talked and my family name and reputation spread far, far beyond what I ever thought it would."
His voice was tinged with unexpected sadness and bitterness, and perhaps it was at that moment that the girl listening to him realised the truth about Cain. That yes, he was a manipulative, selfish man, and he was, as he had admitted, a hedonist. Living a life of debauchery, Cain was a prisoner to his own lifestyle and his family name. That as much as he lived life on the edge, it was, in the end, a hollow, empty thing. Cain wished to escape his own heritage, and in that regard he was a prisoner locked away in a cold, stone cell without the key to a door that would set him free.
Regardless, the usually softly spoken Cain was surprised in a lot of ways at his own verbosity. Perhaps this one, this strange girl had found a strange kinship with the isolated social creature manufactured by a fake society.
Noticing the girl staring at the scar on his lip, Cain brought his finger up, tracing an imaginary line across the pale mark that marred his otherwise perfect features. Another of those ghostlike smiles made it's way across his face as he looked down to the floor.
"This.....this scar? That, my dear, is a story for another day." Cain looked down to the floor for a second before continuing, "I returned home, and found my home......and the world, had gone to ****."[/FIELDSET]
Greeting the Apocaypse: Cain lights up a cigarette. It was strange that in this messed up world that had deteriorated as much as this one that the smallest things that were once taken for granted became a blessed relief. As he took a puff, blowing a small ring of smoke into the air, only the slightest tremble in his arms betrayed the depths of Cain's horror as he was forced to relive that terrible day.
"I woke." There was a tremor in Cain's voice as he closed his eyes, taking another drag on the cigarette. "I woke to screams and blood."
Closing his eyes, Cain pictured the scene almost as if it were one unfolding in front of him right now. "I hadn't even been back any more than a couple of days before the world changed....." Standing, Cain walked over to the girl. He drew her in, holding her close, almost as if she was his only link.....his anchor to reality, to stop the horror of the world around them destroying him.
"The screams stopped. When I went out, I found them all......I've -- I've never seen anything like it. They were all.....twisted.....contorted." Holding onto her, he tightened his grasp around her, clenching the fabric of her jacket tightly in his fist. "There was blood everywhere. They.....they had been tearing at themselves......"
As the images flashed in front of his eyes, Cain's voice broke, and he could not bring himself to say what he had seen with his own eyes. They had torn great furrows into their own flesh......tore their own eyes out in unspeakable agony.....
".....Mother, Father.....Miranda. I was the only one alive." Choking back a sob, Cain continued, "I.....I ran. I didn't know what else to do. I ran from the house. And as the world died around me, I just kept running...... And I wondered.........why?"
Why had I survived when everyone else had died?
Strengths: 1) Cain is a jack of all trades -- master of none. Perhaps the product of a misspent youth, however there are few situations that he does not have some passing knowledge of. Picking locks? Check. Hotwiring? Done it. He is a useful auxiliary person to have around, just dont ask him to fight.
2) Master of the silver tongue. Cain certainly knows how to use his charm to devastating effect. With that silver tongue of his, there are few situations that he cannot twist to his advantage or talk his way out of. It is what has kept him alive so far.
3) Deceptively tough. Despite being slight of frame, Cain is deceptively tough. He can, and has, taken a beating in his life both mentally and physically. For one such as him to survive in this tough world, he has to be. No matter how many times you keep beating him down, he comes back -- again and again and again. That mental fortitude is invaluable in the apocalyptic wasteland he lives in.
Weaknesses: 1) Haunted. Cain is haunted by the ghost of someone he cares deeply for, in a spiritual and emotional sense. A girl, Katy, whom he loved very deeply. The circumstances of her death is something he will never speak of, yet it is something that haunts his every waking moment, and something that he blames himself for. Until he puts that particular ghost to rest, he will never be free of his demons.
2) Addictions. Cain suffers from withdrawals. Needing to take things to block out the horrible nightmarish visions of his parents and families death, and over time he became more and more dependent on them to get by.
3) Self-Loathing. Cain's self-loathing is complex, and it runs very, very deep inside of him. It was what caused him initially to descend into the life of debauchery and excess that he lived prior to the rise of the dead. Seeking an exit from the hopeless, cold world that he lived in, what he found was the reality of the situation he became trapped in was far, far worse than the one he left behind. Yet, he does not know how to escape from it.....
Last edited March 6, 2020 12:51 pm
