Post by Dark-Eyes on Oct 5, 2005 14:08:31 GMT -5
Name: Jason Thomas Black “Dark-Eyes”
Age: 30
Race: Human
Weapons:
Pistols, Revolvers, Rifles, Shotguns, Rapiers, Canes, and Knives
Abilities:
Keen Eyes – Black’s eyesight is incredibly good, he can see object much farther away then any average person and can easily discern movement. This ability comes, like most of his combative abilities, from his training with firearms of all sorts. Mostly gained through the use of his adoptive father’s rifle, Black has adapted his extreme accuracy to incorporate any firearm (including the ones that he does not know how to use properly), especially his favored revolvers.
Agility – Black is an amazing acrobat, able to do most things people could only dream of doing. Although this ability stays within the realm of what is physically possible, sometimes it bends the rules a bit.
Quick Draw – Black can draw his guns faster then most people can draw a breath. This ability can only be used with his revolvers (or pistols if holstered in his gun belts), this is due to the years of training Black went through while using these weapons.
Tracking – Black can track most anything with incredible precision. His adopted father taught Black the ways of, essentially, a proper English gentleman; This included hunting, which allowed Black to learn how to track particularly well.
Pianist – As well as being ingenious with guns, Black is an incredibly good pianist and knows most songs in existence for the piano. While most of his life involved fighting or striving to live, much of his more peaceful existence was devoted to his love of the piano. His adoptive father, an accomplished pianist himself, taught Black everything he knew and as such, Black is one of the foremost pianists in all of Faethaven, albeit unrecognized by anyone in the musical world; he is an undiscovered musical genius.
Items:
Customized 9” long barreled silver magnum revolver (6 shots) x2
An ornate knife
A silver locket of his wife and daughter
Gun repair tools
A specialized revolver speedloader (6 bullets) x2
A bullet belt (240 bullets each) x2
A pair of reading glasses
Appearance:
Black is a tall, proud man and carries himself as such. He is about 6’ tall approximately 182lbs. and is evenly built. Though he is muscular, he has the same strength as a man at the peak of his physical fitness. He is as quick and agile as a cat, though not quite in the literal sense. His eyes are a dark brown, his hair much alike, and his features clean cut and handsome as though sculpted by a master artisan. He has soft but powerful hands and his skin a supple slightly tanned white complexion. His hair is usually only in two styles, one of which simply being loosely lying about his head like a veil and the other being much more sophisticated, it is drawn back into a tidy ponytail and held in place with a soft blue barrette.
As Black almost has two personalities and as such has two different styles of clothing that he wears usually. The first, his lighter side, is that of a gentleman. He wears a clean suit of fine clothing; a pair of fine black pants adorn his legs, a clean white dress shirt about his shoulders, a nice black velvet vest atop his shirt, a pair of shined black dress shoes upon his well worn feet, an ornate silver pocket watch sits in the pocket of his vest, a pair of reading glasses sit loftily upon his face, and his precious locket hangs loosely around his neck.
Then, his darker side is more that of a classic old west outlaw. This outfit consists of a long dark brown leather overcoat, a chestnut brown soft leather vest, a pair of dark brown pants, a slightly thicker then usual white dress-style shirt, a brown cowboy hat, a pair of dark brown hard boots with spurs, a pair of crossed gun holster belts that sport as well the bullets of a bullet belt, a black leather belt with a silver belt buckle, his revolvers, his ornate silver pocket watch, and of course his locket.
Personality:
Black is a very critical thinker, he does not rush into any decision and judges well those that he kills. He is very meticulous and thorough in everything that he does, not wanting to let his past get the better of his proper judgment. He has two personalities when it comes to how he acts around others. One being proper and gentlemanly, a product of his upbringing, and the other being a rough and tough outlaw, a result of the bad events in his life. Black is cautious to trust people and does not let anyone know where he lives. The only person he trusts at the moment is a seemingly insane little gnomish gunsmith by the name of Guy Gunfingers.
History:
Black started out his life as an orphan, traveling and living with a band of nomads. He never knew who his parents were, and the nomads were very cold towards him, neglectful even. They fed him, but only if there was extra food around. They clothed him, but only if one of the nomads discarded some old worn out rags that they no longer wanted. He was not even allowed to ride on any of the pack animals like the other nomads if he was tired.
He spent his younger years wandering the deserts with the nomads, surviving only because of his own perseverance. Living off scraps and clinging to life, stubbornly refusing to give up or die.
Around his sixth year of life, during a severe dust storm, he became separated from the group of nomads. Wandering around blindly through the storm, he eventually came across the wagon tracks left by the nomads. Refusing to be left behind, he followed the tracks, but the storm’s fury soon blew clean the ground he followed. Although fear stricken he continued to wander. He continued his sheer tenacity against death, but his caretakers were no longer there to inadvertently protect him against the wilds.
Alone and afraid the six year old boy pressed on and simply chose a direction and walked. He walked and walked until his feet were raw, and still he walked. The sun baked him and the desert dried him, and still he walked, his eyesight growing blurry by the lack of moisture. The child continued past the point most men would go, past the point of reason, to the realm of insane determination. He continued on, but before long, his legs would no longer move, his body defied his will, even his lungs grew defiant and weak. His dark eyes shut themselves to the world, those earthy dark orbs were slowly engulfed by a darkness even more stifling and enveloping then the darkest night as he passed into unconsciousness.
It seemed like an eternity later, but only a few short hours passed before the boy’s luck and sheer audacity to defy death paid off. A young hunter clad in gentlemen’s clothes came to the edge of his hunting ground, the tree line that separated the territory of Faethaven from the harshness of the wilds. The young hunter spotted the boy, laying amidst the sand and dust, and quickly rushed to aid the child. The hunter brought the boy to a watchtower and stayed with the boy until he had been tended to enough to be moved once more. The young hunter brought the boy to his manor where he spared no expense in providing the boy with the best medical treatment. However, time, it seemed, would be the only true cure for the boy. His body was healed, but his mind had been pushed to the extremes and further. For an entire year the boy lay bedridden, being fed by nurses mostly, but at night and dinnertime the young hunter sat at the boy’s side, away from the persecuting eyes of his peers and servants.
About midway through the seventh year of the boy’s life, nearly a full year and a half since he came under the care of the young hunter, he finally woke. It was night when it happened and the young hunter had fallen asleep at his post by the boy’s bed, collapsed over the side of the bed near the boy’s legs. Dreamily and weary, the boy passed into a blissful sleep only to be awakened the next morning by the warm pleasure of broth sliding down his throat into his wanting belly. Slowly he opened his eyes once more and looked up at the nurse whom had been feeding him. The woman cried out as she was both shocked and thrilled by the event. Smile upon her face she hastily called for one of the other servants and sent message to her master that the boy had awakened. Bewildered by the chain of events sat up in bed and looked around at his surroundings. He lay in bed nude, encircled by many things that he had never seen before in his life. The room he was in had massive bookshelves lining the walls and a massive window near his bed. The room was decorated by many things, paintings of people striking various poses, flower vases filled with beauteous flowers, long curtains hung from the ceiling around the massive windows, even a grand fireplace with a mantle, which held various keepsakes and photographs. A table in the center of the room, covered by a fine white tablecloth, had a tray upon it, which had various foodstuffs arrayed on it.
The boy tentatively climbed out of bed and began to stuff himself with the foods and drink upon the table as the nurse conveyed her message to the messenger. The woman shrieked when she realized that the boy was out of bed and quickly shooed him back into it.
Less then a half hour later the young hunter rushed into the room, his suit untidy by the haste in which he had come upon being given the message. He cautiously approached the boy with tears in his eyes. For reasons he could not explain the young hunter was happy beyond all reason that this boy whom he had found in the desert was well once more. He did not know where his feelings had come from, but they had grown to be that of a father’s for his son. The young hunter embraced the boy in a grand hug. An act that bewildered the boy as he had never been given such affection, but for reasons that came from deep within him, he returned the hug. The young hunter’s tear trailed down the boy’s back while they hugged, until the hunter pulled away from the boy. Holding the boy by the shoulders, he introduced himself as Julian Anthony Black. The boy had learned the common language from the nomads, but he had no name to give and simply looked away ashamedly. Turning the boy’s head to bring his eyes in line with his own the hunter spoke once more.
“If you have no name, I shall give you one...” he said gloriously.
“But you also have no surname…” he continued, “Then I shall give mine own. Henceforth you are Jason Thomas Black!”
Jason broke free of Julian’s grasp and wrapped his arms around the young man hugging him tightly. A feeling washed over him that he had only ever felt in his dreams during the cold nights with the nomads, love… And with as much keenness Julian returned the hug as well as the feelings of love. The two remained in the embrace for what seemed like forever, as adopted father and son.
Age: 30
Race: Human
Weapons:
Pistols, Revolvers, Rifles, Shotguns, Rapiers, Canes, and Knives
Abilities:
Keen Eyes – Black’s eyesight is incredibly good, he can see object much farther away then any average person and can easily discern movement. This ability comes, like most of his combative abilities, from his training with firearms of all sorts. Mostly gained through the use of his adoptive father’s rifle, Black has adapted his extreme accuracy to incorporate any firearm (including the ones that he does not know how to use properly), especially his favored revolvers.
Agility – Black is an amazing acrobat, able to do most things people could only dream of doing. Although this ability stays within the realm of what is physically possible, sometimes it bends the rules a bit.
Quick Draw – Black can draw his guns faster then most people can draw a breath. This ability can only be used with his revolvers (or pistols if holstered in his gun belts), this is due to the years of training Black went through while using these weapons.
Tracking – Black can track most anything with incredible precision. His adopted father taught Black the ways of, essentially, a proper English gentleman; This included hunting, which allowed Black to learn how to track particularly well.
Pianist – As well as being ingenious with guns, Black is an incredibly good pianist and knows most songs in existence for the piano. While most of his life involved fighting or striving to live, much of his more peaceful existence was devoted to his love of the piano. His adoptive father, an accomplished pianist himself, taught Black everything he knew and as such, Black is one of the foremost pianists in all of Faethaven, albeit unrecognized by anyone in the musical world; he is an undiscovered musical genius.
Items:
Customized 9” long barreled silver magnum revolver (6 shots) x2
An ornate knife
A silver locket of his wife and daughter
Gun repair tools
A specialized revolver speedloader (6 bullets) x2
A bullet belt (240 bullets each) x2
A pair of reading glasses
Appearance:
Black is a tall, proud man and carries himself as such. He is about 6’ tall approximately 182lbs. and is evenly built. Though he is muscular, he has the same strength as a man at the peak of his physical fitness. He is as quick and agile as a cat, though not quite in the literal sense. His eyes are a dark brown, his hair much alike, and his features clean cut and handsome as though sculpted by a master artisan. He has soft but powerful hands and his skin a supple slightly tanned white complexion. His hair is usually only in two styles, one of which simply being loosely lying about his head like a veil and the other being much more sophisticated, it is drawn back into a tidy ponytail and held in place with a soft blue barrette.
As Black almost has two personalities and as such has two different styles of clothing that he wears usually. The first, his lighter side, is that of a gentleman. He wears a clean suit of fine clothing; a pair of fine black pants adorn his legs, a clean white dress shirt about his shoulders, a nice black velvet vest atop his shirt, a pair of shined black dress shoes upon his well worn feet, an ornate silver pocket watch sits in the pocket of his vest, a pair of reading glasses sit loftily upon his face, and his precious locket hangs loosely around his neck.
Then, his darker side is more that of a classic old west outlaw. This outfit consists of a long dark brown leather overcoat, a chestnut brown soft leather vest, a pair of dark brown pants, a slightly thicker then usual white dress-style shirt, a brown cowboy hat, a pair of dark brown hard boots with spurs, a pair of crossed gun holster belts that sport as well the bullets of a bullet belt, a black leather belt with a silver belt buckle, his revolvers, his ornate silver pocket watch, and of course his locket.
Personality:
Black is a very critical thinker, he does not rush into any decision and judges well those that he kills. He is very meticulous and thorough in everything that he does, not wanting to let his past get the better of his proper judgment. He has two personalities when it comes to how he acts around others. One being proper and gentlemanly, a product of his upbringing, and the other being a rough and tough outlaw, a result of the bad events in his life. Black is cautious to trust people and does not let anyone know where he lives. The only person he trusts at the moment is a seemingly insane little gnomish gunsmith by the name of Guy Gunfingers.
History:
Black started out his life as an orphan, traveling and living with a band of nomads. He never knew who his parents were, and the nomads were very cold towards him, neglectful even. They fed him, but only if there was extra food around. They clothed him, but only if one of the nomads discarded some old worn out rags that they no longer wanted. He was not even allowed to ride on any of the pack animals like the other nomads if he was tired.
He spent his younger years wandering the deserts with the nomads, surviving only because of his own perseverance. Living off scraps and clinging to life, stubbornly refusing to give up or die.
Around his sixth year of life, during a severe dust storm, he became separated from the group of nomads. Wandering around blindly through the storm, he eventually came across the wagon tracks left by the nomads. Refusing to be left behind, he followed the tracks, but the storm’s fury soon blew clean the ground he followed. Although fear stricken he continued to wander. He continued his sheer tenacity against death, but his caretakers were no longer there to inadvertently protect him against the wilds.
Alone and afraid the six year old boy pressed on and simply chose a direction and walked. He walked and walked until his feet were raw, and still he walked. The sun baked him and the desert dried him, and still he walked, his eyesight growing blurry by the lack of moisture. The child continued past the point most men would go, past the point of reason, to the realm of insane determination. He continued on, but before long, his legs would no longer move, his body defied his will, even his lungs grew defiant and weak. His dark eyes shut themselves to the world, those earthy dark orbs were slowly engulfed by a darkness even more stifling and enveloping then the darkest night as he passed into unconsciousness.
It seemed like an eternity later, but only a few short hours passed before the boy’s luck and sheer audacity to defy death paid off. A young hunter clad in gentlemen’s clothes came to the edge of his hunting ground, the tree line that separated the territory of Faethaven from the harshness of the wilds. The young hunter spotted the boy, laying amidst the sand and dust, and quickly rushed to aid the child. The hunter brought the boy to a watchtower and stayed with the boy until he had been tended to enough to be moved once more. The young hunter brought the boy to his manor where he spared no expense in providing the boy with the best medical treatment. However, time, it seemed, would be the only true cure for the boy. His body was healed, but his mind had been pushed to the extremes and further. For an entire year the boy lay bedridden, being fed by nurses mostly, but at night and dinnertime the young hunter sat at the boy’s side, away from the persecuting eyes of his peers and servants.
About midway through the seventh year of the boy’s life, nearly a full year and a half since he came under the care of the young hunter, he finally woke. It was night when it happened and the young hunter had fallen asleep at his post by the boy’s bed, collapsed over the side of the bed near the boy’s legs. Dreamily and weary, the boy passed into a blissful sleep only to be awakened the next morning by the warm pleasure of broth sliding down his throat into his wanting belly. Slowly he opened his eyes once more and looked up at the nurse whom had been feeding him. The woman cried out as she was both shocked and thrilled by the event. Smile upon her face she hastily called for one of the other servants and sent message to her master that the boy had awakened. Bewildered by the chain of events sat up in bed and looked around at his surroundings. He lay in bed nude, encircled by many things that he had never seen before in his life. The room he was in had massive bookshelves lining the walls and a massive window near his bed. The room was decorated by many things, paintings of people striking various poses, flower vases filled with beauteous flowers, long curtains hung from the ceiling around the massive windows, even a grand fireplace with a mantle, which held various keepsakes and photographs. A table in the center of the room, covered by a fine white tablecloth, had a tray upon it, which had various foodstuffs arrayed on it.
The boy tentatively climbed out of bed and began to stuff himself with the foods and drink upon the table as the nurse conveyed her message to the messenger. The woman shrieked when she realized that the boy was out of bed and quickly shooed him back into it.
Less then a half hour later the young hunter rushed into the room, his suit untidy by the haste in which he had come upon being given the message. He cautiously approached the boy with tears in his eyes. For reasons he could not explain the young hunter was happy beyond all reason that this boy whom he had found in the desert was well once more. He did not know where his feelings had come from, but they had grown to be that of a father’s for his son. The young hunter embraced the boy in a grand hug. An act that bewildered the boy as he had never been given such affection, but for reasons that came from deep within him, he returned the hug. The young hunter’s tear trailed down the boy’s back while they hugged, until the hunter pulled away from the boy. Holding the boy by the shoulders, he introduced himself as Julian Anthony Black. The boy had learned the common language from the nomads, but he had no name to give and simply looked away ashamedly. Turning the boy’s head to bring his eyes in line with his own the hunter spoke once more.
“If you have no name, I shall give you one...” he said gloriously.
“But you also have no surname…” he continued, “Then I shall give mine own. Henceforth you are Jason Thomas Black!”
Jason broke free of Julian’s grasp and wrapped his arms around the young man hugging him tightly. A feeling washed over him that he had only ever felt in his dreams during the cold nights with the nomads, love… And with as much keenness Julian returned the hug as well as the feelings of love. The two remained in the embrace for what seemed like forever, as adopted father and son.