Character(s) Characters of BaldurAnthology

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Character(s) Characters of BaldurAnthology

BaldurAnthology

BaldurAnthology

The One and Only
Inner Sanctum Nobility
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Age
33
Location
Thunder Bay, ON, Canada (EST)
Pronouns
Mister/Sir He/him
Before I get started on posting things, I'd like to mention I'm a detail oriented writer. I write in the third person past tense, and will write between 1 and X amounts of paragraphs depending on how many characters I'm controlling in a story or how motivated I am. I would also like to note that i haven't done any RP in many years, so I might be a bit rusty. Please be patient with me.

*FALLOUT CHARACTER(S)*

Name: Mathias Cromwell

Age: 75 years old

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Asexual. Mathias never really thought about those kinds of things, mostly devoted himself to his work. His social skills wouldn't have allowed him to pursue anyone even if he HAD any interest in that.

Species: Ghoul

Occupation: Former Enclave Scientist

Equipment: Simple lab coat, sturdy denim pants, a button up shirt covered in burn and grease marks. Pockets are usually full of various small tools and pieces of scrap for whatever odd job he needs. Also has a pair of sturdy gloves, and if he REALLY needs to fight something such as a radroach, he has a simple 9mm pistol and standard training with it. He's not a very good shot with it though, but his aim has improved since he lost an eye in an accident and replaced it with a cybernetic one. The new eye has software similar to the V.A.T.S system of the Vault-Tec Pipboy, and has improved his aim somewhat.

Skills: Repair, jury-rigging, can craft repair kits and other useful items

Strengths/Powers: Immune to Radiation damage, healed by rads. Can walk safely among feral ghouls (Like all ghouls) Good at scavenging and crafting items, repairs, hacking.. basically anything scientific or technological.

Weaknesses: Speaking to people. Mathias is a very awkward person, preferring to work on things like repairs or computers rather than talk to people. As such, he's not very good at dealing with any form of speech check or social situation that involve humans. He's also not very strong physically, preferring to keep his distance from foes. However, Mathias is a terrible shot, so he's pretty useless in combat. He also suffers from having a split personality as a result of prolonged isolation and radiation damage to his brain when he became a ghoul.

History/Background: Mathias Cromwell was born in a secret vault hidden somewhere up the Pittsburg river. Before the war, this vault was established as a secret collaboration between The US Government, (Who later became the Enclave) and the scientists at the Big Mountain Research Complex, (AKA The Big MT). However, just like almost all the vaults, this one was doomed to fail. The US Government had gathered some of the best scientists and their families in this vault, intending it to be a research facility so when they eventually re-emerged after the Red Chinese Invasion and great war was over, they could retake America from whatever resistances they had and rebuild society with ease. For that they needed ways of producing power, new weapon types, armor, bullets and other sorts of things that would give them the edge up in a word they predicted would have no nuclear cars anymore. For two generations, Mathias's family had worked on creating different forms of "Cyber animals". Their thought being if you could weaponize a simple canine into a cyber-dog why couldn't you enhance other animals as well? Sadly, most of their projects failed, every weapon still had flaws every project backfired in some way and slowly but surely, the number of residents of the vault started to dwindle. At first this didn't bother Mathias, as he was used to spending long hours cooped up doing something. First it was studying with the older scientists and learning how to craft weaponry or rebuild a computer with a tin can and few bits of wire or some other thing like that. Tips and tricks of generations of knowledge, then it was time spent in the lab trying to finish what his family started, striving to be the one family in the vault who could hold their head high when the government gave the all clear signal and they could leave and retake the wastes... a signal which never came. Later, as the number of people started to drop however, he started finding himself more and more anxious.. effects of prolonged isolation were starting to get to him. He was jumping at shadows, hearing voices when there were no voices. He tore apart the vaults library trying to keep himself occupied, drown out the voices with holotapes and old movies. There, hidden amongst the dusty science books and history tomes he found a secret stash of Western novels and movies. He became enchanted with the storylines, the lawman c oming into town with a big iron on his hip, the savior of damsels the shooter of the bad guy. He even made a crude facsimile of a western hat and ciat ti wear while watching them late at night, the aging metal supports of the vault creaking as they'd settle for the night. Every so often he'd escape the monotony of this maddeningly solitary life by doing the inspection rounds since it meant he got to LEAVE The vault. The vault backed on to a series of caverns that were deemed too unstable to build in, but were ideal for checking the exterior bulkheads and reinforcements for structural damage. On one of these sweeps, he came across the bodies of a caravan that had fallen through the roof of the cavern. From their bodies he salvaged an actual black duster coat, a western style hat and a curious .44 revolver, a plasma enhanced revolver. Using parts salvaged from long abandoned labs he was able to restore the gun to working order. He had even finally managed to get his latest project to work... a CYBERSTEED! Named "Greg" by the vault computer, Greg the Cybersteed only seemed to have one problem... power regulation. It seemed the internal batteries weren't strong enough to have it travel very far without needing to rest... hardly the invention to win the great war. It was around this time, however, that the vault reactor.. long ignored and neglected, went into catastrophic meltdown. A MASSIVE blast of radiation swept through the vault, and the vault vented radioactive slag and waste into the local river, making it even more deadly than it was already. This resulted in the Ghoulification of Mathias, and a strange reaction from the cloned horse as well. The organic components almost became a glowing one, its bones could be seen glowing through its dark flesh, and it seemed a lot stronger than before. This also was the final straw for poor Mathias's mind, and it lost the battle with insanity... in this case developing a split personality.

Name: Will "Dead Justice" Williamsson

Age: 75 years old.

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Asexual. "I'm not in this for Wenches or dandyboys I'm out here for JUSTICE!"

Species: Ghoul/"Undead Lawman"

Occupation: Vigilante, "Lawman". Seeker of "Justice".

Equipment: A black duster coat and wide brimmed hat that has a red trim. Under this he wears a black vest, grey shirt and red neck scarf. His clothes have been enhanced with ballistic weave. He also wears reinforced black denim pants and sturdy black boots. He is equipped with a unique .44 revolver. The revolver is radioactive, so is unable to be used by anyone who is not a ghoul. It fires plasma enhanced bullets, and unique bullets that were crafted by Mathias, a bullet full of radioactive waste from the vault reactor. When fired from his gun, it causes a reaction inside the barrel which makes the bullets come out with sort of a shrieking sound as well as a standard gunshot, further lending credence to the tales of him being an "Undead Lawman". He has a lasso with a stun pack fed through it, which makes it take an almost red flaming type appearance when used. This allows him to capture targets live and bring them back to town for "justice". He wields his pistol with his left hand.

Skills: Unlike Mathias, Dead Justice has no issues with talking to people, although he mostly does so in a more gruff and arrogant manner. He's also a far better shot, as most of Mathias's issues come from him not wanting to shoot, his fear and insecurities. Dead Justice doesn't have these problems, and is able to use the cybernetic eye, or "Eye of Justice" to find whatever criminal he is pursuing and bring them down whatever the cost.

Strengths/Powers: Through his cybernetic eye, Dead Justice is capable of using a facsimile of the "V.A.T.S" created by Vault-Tec, an enhanced targeting ability. It also possesses thermal vision, and low light enhancement so his vision at night is almost as good as it is during the day. He calls it the "Eye of Justice" believing that it is a result of his belief and pursuit of Justice that gives him these powers. As a Ghoul, he's immune to radiation and even heals from it.

Weaknesses: In contrast to Mathias, Dead Justice has no way of understanding hacking, lockpicking or other "Confounded technology" that do not fit within the western ideals that resulted in his creation. He is born of madness and the "Ideals" and virtues of the western gunslinger from western holotapes and video reels. This also results in him being unable to accept money for bounties and "Dispensing Justice". As he puts it "I'm not out here for a pat on the back! I'm just doing my job!".

History/Background: Most of his backstory has already been covered in the sheet above reflecting his host body, Mathias Cromwell. However, Dead Justice has made his own modifications. At first he shared the body with Mathias equally, biding his time, and making sure the cyber steed his host had created would be sufficient for dispensing "Justice". After that was done though., he pushed Mathias down into the bottom of their shared brain to play with his "toys." IE different ideas for weapons and tinkering thoughts. Riding his new steed, he left that radioactive pit of a vault and left to seek his fortune. Tales of the "Undead Lawman" have spread across the wastes, a demon with a red glowing eye wielding an unnatural arsenal dragging raider scum away into the night screaming in terror. A man with twisted morals and ideals dispensing Justice, saving caravans and otherwise being a "Hero" in the ways described in the novels that shaped him, never cowardly or unnecessarily cruel, a tarnished star upon his breast.

Name: Greg

Age: 50

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Neigh.

Species: Glowing Cybersteed

Occupation: Mount

Equipment: A cyber exo-skeleton covers the more important vital areas of her body. Inside her is a unique small reactor/generator which is capable of producing large amounts of power and can be re-energized in a pinch with radioactive water. In her nose is a flamethrower, primarily for the look of it rather than anything practical. She is also equipped with a smoke screen generator, which when used in conjunction with venting excess heat and energy from her reactor can create a lingering fog with radioactive lightning in it... the ideal entrance/exit cover for an "Undead Lawman". Her chassis also has a few power ports that allow the use of her reactor to power external objects while she is stationary/in a resting state.

Skills: She's a horse... she runs fast she can jump high or for fairly long distances... not much I can say here XD

Strengths/Powers: Almost infinite stamina, combining the effects of absorbing radiation from the wastes around her, drinking it from the water, and the reactor in her belly, she can run for miles without needing a rest. She also possesses a high amount of health and regeneration, so is very tough if not almost impossible to kill.. unless of course you destroy her brain. Due to the enhancements she's also immune to frenzy, or fear attacks and will never falter in battle. Enhanced lifespan of a cyber enhancement and ghoulification means she will probably live for 2000 years without dying so long as her brain and biogel stay uncontaminated.

Weaknesses: A shot to the brain will kill her obviously. If her systems aren't vented regularly she could overload and be unable to move for some time. EMP attacks are especially effective against her, but her redundant systems will allow her to reroute her vital system pathways to avoid destruction until the damage can be fixed. She's roughly six foot tall at the shoulder, so she's also not able to fit in tight spaces.

History/Background: Greg, amusingly named despite being a mare, is a horse cloned in the Secret Military vault that was a joint project of the Enclave and Big MT. Her life has mostly consisted of tests in a brightly lit lab or an adapted jogging track, until eventually Dead Justice took her out of the darkness and let her run in the vast open wasteland. She has seen deathclaws, giant radscorpions and countless raiders, fiends and other evildoers and ne'er do wells. Throughout it all, however, she remains a faithful companion to her deluded master, and protects him to the best of her capabilities.

**I will post characters for other stories and things soon... my hands are starting to hurt**
 
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*Fantasy Characters*

Name: Juzzath

Age: Several billion years old

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Though she prefers females, her somewhat cruel and acerbic nature prevents her from pursuing most people. While she is.. "Nice" for a demon.. she IS still a demon.

Species: Fallen Nephilim

Occupation: "Daughter" of the Demon Lord. Corrupted Nephilim, Traitor.

Equipment: Blooddrinker, a demonic greatsword made using iron extracted from the blood of sinners, and combined with ash from repeatedly burning their bodies to ash as part of their torment. (Carbon steel basically). The hilt is black and it contains a red jewel in the hilt which contains enchantments to make sure the sword never dulls or breaks, fueled by drinking the blood of its victims, stolen from her father the Demon Lord, Current king of Hell. The sword cannot be held by anyone besides a demon or other evil/corrupted soul otherwise it will kill them... or at the very least strip them of their sanity as the screams of the tortured will echo through their minds if they hold it. She is also equipped with blackened Iron armor up to the knees, covering her chest, arms, hands, and chest leaving her wings free to flap and love. Her wings are tattered and ruined right now and in need of healing so she is currently unable to fly.

Skills: Blood Magic, Shadow magic, flight (When her wings aren't injured) She's strong enough to wield most large weapons, but prefers a sword. Quite agile, capable of strengthening herself with the blood of her foes, through sexual encounters... though she usually prefers to kill people as it takes less effort.. and by visiting sites of despair, darkness or other unholy attributes.. such as slums, graveyards, old battlefields, corrupted/dark churches or other places of ill repute.

Strengths/Powers: Regeneration, multiple forms of magic, Exceptional combat prowess, stealth... though chooses not to use that as she feels it's dishonest in her own twisted way, Like most female demons, men are particularly weak to her... "influences".

Weaknesses: Unlike men, women are not weak to her powers of suggestion... in fact most of her persuasion doesn't work on women even women who are into other women, which makes them fascinating to her. She's also not good at conversations or any form of guile when her powers fail, which has resulted in a lot of unnecessary murders over the centuries. She's also weak to... fire magic, holy magic, any form of healing magic as it stems from holy powers. She's also weak to silver, certain forms of magic runes and warding glyphs can stop her in her tracks or cause her injuries if she steps on them or touches them. She cannot enter an actual church or other sanctified holy site, unless it's been corrupted. She also doesn't understand affection, so she doesn't really know how to respond if someone initiates something as simple as holding her hand... it can render her off guard enough to attack or at least leave her off balance.

History/Background: Following the events of the last great war between the heavens and hell, the great founder Lucifer was imprisoned for all time in a cage of unbreakable metal, unable to see or interact with the world he had so desperately coveted. Following his imprisonment a second war ensued, this time a civil war as all the Princes and others of hell tried to take the vacant throne, which eventually was taken by Juzzath's "father", a Seraphim who had fallen in the first holy war and became a demon for turning against his own brethren. Juzzath was the product of an illicit mating between her father and... a woman of unknown origins. Was she a priest? Another angel? Some form of mage or spirit? Dryad? She never knew, and her father refused to answer what she was half... not him. Her father decided that if the heavens were beyond the reach of Hell's rulership.. he would send a lesser demon to the realms of man and conquer THAT. After all.. what could a bunch of humans wielding swords and sticks do? By doing so, however, he allowed magic to enter the world of man and altered the course of history forever, With Magic at their side, a hero rose up and slew the "demon lord" that had been dispatched to the world and sealed the gates of Hell. Several hundred years passed and once again her father sent another demon to the realm of man, taking up the old castle and making them stronger, adding more monsters and evil to the world and once again attempted to take the world. Once again, a hero rose up with a Magic sword and defeated the foe, sealing the gates for another several centuries. It became the Great Cycle.. every Six hundred and Sixty Six years, the gates of hell would open and another aspiring demon lord, hoping for her father's favor, stepped out to the Castle of the Demon Lord within the realm of man... and every time it was thwarted. Juzzath watched this cycle every six centuries with the kind of mild fascination that one would watch a friend who had just drank the oil of a hallucinogenic plant and sprinted off into the woods flinging aside their clothing for the seventh time that week... with increasing anger and frustration that they didn't learn from their previous mistakes. She tried to give suggestions on how to do things better, or perhaps just... NOT try to conquer the human realm but her suggestions were met with ridicule, humiliation and occasionally wrath from her father who called her a failure of a demon, a pathetic weakling. It was the demon's RIGHT to rule, he had said. Juzzath had had enough. Stealing her father's magic sword, Blooddrinker, as well as Lilith's armor from the armory, a dusty, somewhat slutty looking affair found hidden in the back of her "Father's" treasure room, she fled hell when the gates opened. Now, fighting the constant assassins and other attacks the one she once called Father, and hoping to find the hero of the land. Perhaps with the hero's help she would be able to seal the gates of hell for good... after all she had all the knowledge of hell at her disposal AND the most powerful relics she could get her clawed fingers on... Surely it wasn't beyond her grasp?
 
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*Fantasy Characters*

Name: Malik

Age: 14,000

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Though he believes most mortal races are beneath him, he does find Females the most attractive. (Straight)

Species: Afrit/Fire Djinn

Occupation: "Genie" "Trickster"

Equipment: Like most of his kind, Malik wears very little, an arm-band which binds him to his ring/amulet (One story I'm planning it to be a ring the other I plan it to be an amulet/locket of some sort) and prevents him from flying beyond a certain distance unless it is wished of him by his current master/mistress. He also has a golden ornament binding his hair up on top of his head. Occasionally might wear a vest but otherwise bare chested, his body is obscured from the waist downwards by a fiery inferno/tornado, but if an "Intimate" wish is requested he can form a full human-like male body. His eyes glow golden, but are naturally brown.
male_ifrit_djinn_by_creativesunny_d6lj222-fullview.jpg

Skills: Alteration of Reality, power over wind and flame. Can change reality as defined by his owner's wishes, or to make a point, create things to amuse himself... etc. Can often be seen doing stuff like reclining on a lounge chair, or sipping drinks which may not even have been invented yet.. he is a being that transcends time and space.

Strengths/Powers: So long as his owner wishes it, he can create anything and move anywhere with no issue. Flight, levitation, shape changing, control over his size, the ability to speak any and all languages. The ability to Read any and all languages. For the most part, invulnerable. (See weaknesses) Should he ever truly succeed in destroying his own ring/amulet under the right circumstances, (Very specific conditions, planetary alignments etc) he will become free to do whatever he wishes... at which point he has pledged to destroy the country that sealed him away in the first place.... evidently not knowing that country no longer exists as it was lost to a cataclysm.

Weaknesses: While he is invulnerable to MOST physical attacks... specific types of holy weapons CAN damage him, though not kill him. Like all Djinn, the only way to truly get rid of him is to bind him to some object.. typically a ring, a lamp, bottle etc.. then destroy said bottle or lamp. Unfortunately, the conditions to actually destroy said vessel are usually pretty sever (Lava flows, angelic forges, hellfire etc) HOWEVER that does not mean they cannot be stopped. Though he is unable to be killed, neither can he kill another being, however he is still capable of inflicting great pain and injury as "You'd be surprised what you can live through." He's terrified of glass, as it is "Frozen Fire" a material made of fire and earth which is what he is made of primarily. A properly sealed glass box could contain him, or the right sealing spells, wards, or other binding magic could trap him in any given place. OF course.. also if his owner wishes that he was trapped once more in the ring, or that they had never found his vessel etc.. then he is forcibly trapped in it once more and the human, or other being he is bound to, is free. HE is also bound by the four Great Rules.. The rules that bind him and the ways he can use his powers... ONE. He may never bring death upon another. TWO. He may never restore life to that which has perished. THREE. HE may never meddle with free will.. (NO making others fall in love etc) and FOUR... He must grant the wishes of his master until such time as they wish him away, or until the number of wishes his master has made reaches the number 33, as it was considered a cursed/evil number to his people as the way to pronounce it was similar to the way to pronounce "Death" in their language. Since he is a "Cursed being" the number reflects his culture. Also if he imbibes the substance known as "Coffee" it can weaken him greatly, as in life he was highly allergic to it.

History/Background: Hailing from a civilization that was lost beneath the waves following a great cataclysm, Malik is roughly around fourteen thousand years old. He was once a simple peasant, although born under the wrong birthsigns and stars he was ostracized as an "accursed one" From a young age. Seeking the power to take his revenge on his own people, he broke into the lord's palace, seeking any form of magical relics in the treasury, in which he discovered a ring (Or amulet depending on story). Believing that this ring could possibly be pawned to gain some form of wealth, he pilfered it and went to leave the palace wearing it. However, rubbing it accidentally released the Djinn that was bound to it. However, this djinn was ancient, the remnants of yet another civilization that had disappeared thousands of years ago. He was old, he was tired and he had no desire to remain alive for the thousands of years it might take for him to free himself and have the option to make himself mortal. Blinded by his lust for power and fame, Malik decided to offer the Djinn a deal... he would get to become the most powerful Afrit/Djinn in the world... and he would take the djinn's place. However, the Djinn would have to take his, and live a life of poverty and exile, and likely die in a few hours from being caught in the Palace with a stolen item. The wish was granted, and Malik was bound to a ring/amulet for all time. His powers are vast, godlike... but in his lust for that power he forgot about the curse of the Bound Djinn...or Genie as mortals call them... he must answer the back and call of puny mortals desiring his magic his power to make THEMSELVES rich and powerful... a reminder of his hubris over and over again.

For Fourteen thousand years he has lived in this fashion, spending decades, sometimes centuries asleep until he is woken time and again by some fool wanting power, fame, and eventually forcing him back to sleep because their wishes were greedy and they were punished... for although Malik discovered he was of course bound by the four rules that bind all Djinn/Genies, that is to say, He could not bring death upon anyone, bring anyone back to life, interfere with free will as it was seen as a "Divine gift" for people to have free will, and he could not grant them more than 33 wishes, the number reflecting him being a cursed being to his culture, as he was born under a poor set of stars, a bad planetary alignment and it all happened on the 33rd day of the new year when the sun did not shine in the sky. (Brief solar eclipse because.. superstitions) Although he has seen the error in his ways, and regrets binding himself to this life, he still takes delight in twisting the greedy wishes of those who make them so they always cause misfortune to those who make them. However, if people attempt to use his magic for selfless reasons he is... USUALLY... willing to grant the wishes without any form of repercussion since it happens so seldomly.
 
Name: Fabian Alcott Blackwood the Third

Age: 1194

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual but prefers feminine/sissy boys or women.

Species: Vampire Lord

Occupation: Investor, Undead Ruler, "Old Money". Stockbroker, businessman.

Equipment: Since it is the modern era, Fabian typically wears a custom cut suit, or just black dress pants, perfectly polished leather shoes and some form of stylish black turtleneck to keep as much of his skin covered as possible. He also wears a long black coat, the hem of which is tattered and worn out, though he obviously has the money to wear a better coat, and occasionally may wear wrist watches, jewelry such as older fashioned men's rings, or gloves to keep his hands clean. He has a love of old cars, and has collected cars since they started to hit the markets. He has one of each of the best cars of each decade that they were out all stored in the courtyards of his flying castle, by using his own magic to fly them up there. The turtlenecks are also used to cover a collar-like piece of jewelry around his neck, dangling from which is a very old, weathered and blackened silver pentagram, the pagan holy symbol with five small jewels in each of the corners. If you look at it in dim light they almost seem to glow...the collar and intricate pentacle are a binding seal to keep his powers sealed away. He is only able to remove this seal once every hundred years on his own... this allows him to return his current car to his castle, make preparations to "Die" and come back as a new name and identity, a process he has perfected over the centuries.


Skills: Over the course of the centuries, Fabian has taken the time to acquire quite a few skills. The art of the deal, how to make others believe he is a different person when he doesn't age year after year, smart investing, business management etc. He has also learned how to find the homeless population in any given city, to use them for his.... needs. While not able to turn invisible or anything, he's mastered the art of being unnoticed. Wear clothing that makes you not stand out, a haircut that's plain and ordinary, etc. If he chooses to he can just blend into the background through simple ways of exploiting how people treat those around them.

Strengths/Powers: In his true form, Fabian possesses the usual array of vampire powers. Supernatural strength, speed, unnaturally sharp senses of hearing taste and smell etc, the ability to rapidly heal any injury not caused by a holy weapon, silver or fire, flight, Shapeshifting, While some vampires can control wolves and rats, Fabian has always had the best affinity with cats, telepathy, telekinesis and a few various abilities when it comes to his vision, heat vision, can see someone's heart rate etc. The last one is useful for telling when people try to cheat him in business deals. When in his sealed form, however, most of his powers are diminished or unable to be used. For instance, he is unable to use telekinesis, and his supernatural speed and other senses are dulled down to a more human level, giving him above average, though still not uncommon, fast reflexes, sensitive hearing and above average vision. His strength while not supernaturally strong makes him "Stronger than he looks" to which he replies he just has wiry muscles and can't bulk up. He "Bounces back quickly" from illnesses and injuries, his regenerative powers not instant or rapid when he's sealed but still giving him an easier recovery time than most humans. He cannot use telepathy when he's wearing his power sealer, but cats tend to like him a lot more... still not uncommon as there's people like that everywhere. He DOES retain his ability to see vitals, so he's able to use that to tell when humans are lying to him.

Weaknesses: As all vampires, he is weak to Silver, being staked through the heart and having his head cut off.. which would kill anyone obviously, Fire, hallowed ground, and to some extent holy symbols. Over the years of being in his sealed form his body has built up a tolerance to running water and garlic, as humans use it in their food far too often for him to avoid it. While it remains his least favourite flavouring, he isn't killed by it in the very least. He's also highly sensitive to sound, so sudden very loud sounds can temporarily cause him pain or disorient him. Sunlight, while it doesn't kill him, hurts his skin, or at least makes him very uncomfortable. He can mitigate this effect with medical grade sunblock and keeping as much of his skin covered as he possibly can when he has to go outside.

History/Background: Fabian, as he has been known for the last three hundred years, before that known as Aleister, then Mathias, then... well you get the picture, is an immortal vampire from the latter half of the ninth century. Born in 800 AD, Fabian started off as a poor farmer's boy until a local lord came into his house, killed his father and violated his mother, as lords tended to do with the more beautiful women. With threats of death should he ever return to his own home, Fabian, or as he was known in that day, Gallus, fled his village into the deep dark forests his people told stories about. You go in there you never come back sort of thing. It was full of ghouls and goblins, witches and demons. With the swords at his back and the lords men chasing him down just to laugh at the poor peasant boy run for his life... it's not like he had much of a choice. He hid deep enough in the forest so that they wouldn't find him and lamented the loss of his former life, the lass he was sweet on surely next for the lords selfish desires, his home surely burned to the ground and his pa lying dead in a pool of blood. After waking from crying himself to sleep, Fabian had seen an odd red mist and weird lights leading deeper into the forest. With nowhere else to go, and a rumble in his stomach he followed the mist. Perhaps it would lead him to the cottage of a witch, who might give him food? Surely they weren't as bad as the villagers said after all. The smoke led him to a dark and ominous cave in the wall of a cliff deep within the forest. The place was unnerving. Whispers could be heard in the wind, warning Fabian to flee, the wind itself gripped at his tunic as if trying to pull him away... but enter the cave he did. Within, he found a crumbling altar. The face of an angel, or at least something beautiful, was seen in the gloom above. Upon the altar was a golden chalice, surely worth a small fortune... but why was it here? Whispers echoed throughout the cave... whispers of power, of vengeance... whispers of women swooning in his arms his lips to their breast or their throats... the whispers became more convoluted but Fabian wasn't listening anymore. He knew what he had to do. He knelt on the cavern floor and he prayed for this gift... the gift of power that would give him the strength to return to his home without fearing the lord's men and their pointy weapons. Something dripped into the goblet... and then anther and another. Looking up above, the statue was crying blood! Once the goblet was full... Fabian felt a thirst... thirstier than he'd ever felt in his life. Like he hadn't drank water in a week. The perverse, evil goblet glistened red in the low light... promising to be sweeter than any well water the poor boy had ever drank.

The next thing he knew... his entire village was dead. His shirt was red with blood and everyone, even the lass he had found so dear.... was slaughtered at his feet and he knew it was him that had done it. Unable to see himself in the lord's mirrors, he rushed to a pond to see what he had become. Silver hair, ruby eyes and crimson stains all down his front... he had become a demon. A murderer... a vampire. He had gotten the power he wanted, but at what cost? Unable to die and escape his grief, he has fought for over a thousand years to make a new life with the curse he had been given. He acquired a castle, then used magic to make it fly, equipping it with alchemickal engines and potent wards to keep away those who would hurt him. For centuries he drained people dry whenever he needed to feed to sustain himself, but after six hundred years his feast was interrupted by a very powerful priest. With his holy symbols and water of god, Fabian was sure that his nightmare would finally end... but instead the man created a holy binding with which to contain the monster within him. Now Fabian was able to lead normal lives, put the blood stained gold he took from town after town to use to make the world a better place. So he learned how to be a businessman, starting with a simple stall, then a cart. All the time he thinks about his deal with the holy man who had given him his seal... He would make the world a better place and not killing unless he had to...and in return when the time was right, they would ensure good things would happen. Perhaps they would allow him to die.. perhaps he would get an eternal bride or a male companion to hold through eternity... after all when you have nothing but time on your hands, gender seems rather pointless to obsess over. Time would tell
 
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*FANTASY/D and D style RP. Also the first character I ever created.*

Name: Byron Thunderbeard

Age: 156

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight... but cares more about booze than sex

Species: Duergar (Grey Dwarf)

Occupation: Inventor, Alchemist, Artificer, Drunk, Adventurer.

Equipment: A simple set of chainmail worn over a sturdy leather doublet, a simple travel cloak stained and worn, an emblem of the Dwarven Great House of Thunderbeard, an enchanted mace his adoptive brother created for him that can either be single handed or two handed, has stunning and electric damage, it can extend its length to almost a battle staff if he needs extra reach. Byron also possesses a bag of holding he created out of an old adventurer backpack he got while out on his adventures, it has a small ladder to allow him to climb into his bag and retrieve less necessary items. It has fasteners all over the outside from which hang his frying pan, a "stove" he invented using fire runes and magic steel that allows him to cook without a fire, various potions of herbs for cooking, a bag of salt, a flask of liquor, various important potions for everyday use, and other various bits and bobs for everyday use. Inside the bag is his portable alchemy setup, allowing him to brew potions at any camp he might be a part of.

Skills: Like most of his clan, Byron specializes in alchemy, but is also an artificer and inventor. This means he is has created several things that were at least deemed "useful" and given special recognition, such as his portable alchemy setup, his travel stove, a gel-like substance that was found to be useful for mining due to its explosive capabilities, and one construct named Adamant that went rogue and nearly killed a friend of his. From that point onwards he was forbidden from making anything ALIVE. As an extension of his alchemy abilities, he is also able to cook really well, knowing which herbs taste good and also which herbs to throw in to the food to add a strengthening effect or to help people relax after a tense day, etc.

Strengths/Powers: Byron does not possess any special powers. No magic spells or super strength or anything along that line. He excels when creating food or potions, he's able to handle his liquor better than most Dwarfs, and he is able to take and dish out a solid punch... which comes in handy during bar fights which tend to happen a lot around him...

Weaknesses: Although Byron possesses the medal of a great house, granting him access to cities and preventing most issues... being a Grey dwarf has disadvantages. He's not as good in the sunlight, as his eyes were meant for darkness and dim lighting in the Underdark. He also has his addiction to drink, causing him to be somewhat drunk at most times. As such, he cannot wield a ranged weapon with any degree of accuracy as there are usually 2-3 of any given target even if there is just the one. He is incapable of stealth, as the many items on his bag clank and clink as he walks around. Also, due to his skin tone and race, a lot of people get suspicious of him even though he possesses a Thunderbeard medal, which cause slurs to be hurled at him, and his fist to be hurled at them.

History/Background: Byron is a Duergar, and was born in the Underdark. When he was a child, his clan's home was attacked by Drow for sport, and while fleeing his family was killed in front of him. Before the Drow hunting party could kill him too, however, Byron fled into a nearby tunnel. Calling out jeers and insults, trying to bait him into trying to get revenge, the Drow party followed him, mocking the small, now orphaned dwarf. However, as Byron ran through the dark, he triggered an invisible rune as he crossed into one of the deeper mining tunnels of the Thunderbeard clan. Before long, the poor Duergar had reached a dead end, and he feared it was going to be a dead end in every sense of the word. However, as the poor grey dwarf cowered in a corner, a section of wall slid open and the advancing Drow were attacked by an ambushing party of Thunderbeard clan warriors, wielding magic weapons and hurling magic missiles the Drow were swiftly annihilated. Fearing himself to be next, Byron curled in a ball and prepared for the inevitable... but what he did not expect was a kind hand to be laid upon his back, and his young body to be scooped into the arms of the Thunderbeard clan's head Priest... essentially their clan's version of the Pope. Instead of being killed, Byron found himself being brought inside, given food and shelter, clean water and a blanket. His wounds were tended to, and the dwarves even went out and retrieved his now dead parents, giving them a proper funeral service as befitted a Dwarf. As their bodies were entombed in stone, Byron left his old clan and his old name behind him. Instead of using the name his birth father had given him, "Banrak Firegift" He was given the name of "Byron Thunderbeard".

His early years were spent learning letters and maths, then learning to speak the multiple languages that the surface dwellers used. He would often be found pouring over books in his adopted father's library, often staying there until the wee hours of the morning. What fascinated him most was alchemy, the ability to turn herbs and weeds on the ground into powerful elixirs and potions, or if mixed incorrectly deadly poisons. He begged his father to let him learn how to mix potions, instead of following his adoptive father's footsteps of being a priest or cleric. Although his adoptive father agreed, he was uncertain as to whether this was the correct path for his adoptive child... who managed to blow off his own eyebrows while trying to mix a simple tonic for an upset stomach. Byron's persistent nature eventually paid off, however and he soon was making potions as well as any of his older siblings. It seemed he had a natural gift for brewing, but his father questioned some of his motivations as he was found brewing alcohol as well as potions. Perhaps in an attempt to stop such foolish actions, he was assigned to the artificer's workshops to keep his mind and hands busy elsewhere. He was quickly forbidden from working in the larger workshops where they created Constructs to be used in the mines, as his went rogue immediately and broke a hole through the clan's gate. In the smaller shop his strange little mind and his memories of the Underdark led to several interesting inventions, such as his portable magic stove. A fire rune etched into the stove with magically charged liquid and finished with a special type of steel allowed it to heat up to the same level as a normal campfire. Although it wasn't very precise, it would still allow scouting parties to enjoy a hot meal without compromising their night vision or giving away their positions. For creating something that was deemed "Useful" to the clan, Byron was granted the title of "Artificer" and granted a special weapon from the Thunderbeard clan's treasure vault, a magic hammer that would return to his hand when thrown... which he lost in a cave-in later in his life. Byron also invented a collapsible alchemy setup that allowed the user to fold the table in on itself, activating runes of holding and letting the glass jars and alembics and other such pieces to simply stay in their clasps and be folded away into nothingness to protect them between uses. This was also deemed "useful" and Byron was rewarded for this second item of "Useful" status by being granted the permission to explore the world.


Clad in his brand new travel cloak, shiny new chainmail, and a shiny new helmet he later sold for beer money, Byron was set on his way with a special honor, a magical medallion that indicated he was a part of Clan Thunderbeard, one of the dwarven Great Houses. The medals were known to be enchanted, and would be destroyed upon death. They could not be traded or touched by anyone except for those who they were awarded, and were only for the special cases, people of great honor in that house... although in Byron's case it was mostly to protect him as he was a Duergar, so like most from the Underdark he would be viewed with suspicion and mistrust. Picking up a used backpack in the first town he saw, after selling a few potions he made along the way to earn a few coins, he used the knowledge from his Father's library, and from the workshops of his home clan and made a bag of holding out of it. However, nobody had made a bag of holding out of such a large bag before, as they were usually to be hung on the belt... so nobody knew their carrying capacity was relative to their size. Byron ended up with a bag the size of a large warehouse inside and was able to fit many things in its cavernous depths. Byron spent the better part of a month outfitting it with shelves and places to hold items to make sure that items he gathered along his journey would be kept safe. It was shortly after leaving this town that he meet someone who would end up being a long time friend to him... and unlikely ally. A Drow, a refugee from the Underdark. The two of them would go on many misadventures, and the Drow would even assist in bringing Byron back to life when he died in a cave-in.

Resurrected by his own father, gifted a new weapon to replace the one that was lost and with his bag returned to him, Byron set out once again to seek more glory, new kinds of booze, and other shenanigans to get himself and his friend into. He dated a dryad for a time but that didn't last very long. He made friends with a Chosen of Kelemvor, briefly became the chosen of Dugmaren Brightmantle who swiftly lost interest in favor of an adopted sibling of his who had invented a thing he called a "Rotating Mental Occupational Device"... which was basically a shiny thing you could spin in your hand to entertain yourself. (Yes a fidget spinner.. it happened on a previous RP site XD) Though Byron is approaching the middle of his life and starting to age, he's still more than ready to drink, fight, and take whatever treasures he can get his hands on.
 
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*Sci-Fi Doctor Who type RP Character*

Name: The Gypsy

Age: 327 Earth Years. Has not yet regenerated.

Gender: Currently Female.

Sexuality: Asexual. Feels she's too old for sexual relations at her stage of life. IF she ends up regenerating, will probably prefer women or girly boys.

Species: Gallifreyan

Occupation: Timelord. Traveler throughout time and space.

Equipment/Attire: Typically, The Gypsy dresses in a dress with scarves, usually with jewelry and other mystic seeming items among her person. She also has, sequestered away in a pouch sewn inside her dress.. a few emergency tools. A sonic Screwdriver, a small plasma cutter, a psychic paper to serve as "identification" when necessary. On cold planets, or if she's landed somewhere during winter she can also be seen wearing a shawl, or a heavy woolen cloak depending on the time period. Sensible leather boots adorn her feet, reinforced to take the hard roads without wearing out easily. She also carries a simple handbag which is bigger on the inside, in which she carries all kinds of herbs, teas, her pipe, tobacco from 9 different worlds, a book, her knitting, and various other bits and bobs, sweets, snacks etc. as befitting of being a "Forgettable old lady". She possesses a Type 70-A TARDIS, capable of going anywhere within time and space, as well as being able to retain power if it strays into an alternate dimension/parallel world. It is also capable of manual control over the Chameleon Circuit, allowing it to either blend with the surroundings or look like whatever the user chooses. It can convert more forms of energy into Artron energy to fuel the engines, allowing it to be out in the field for a lot longer without having to stop in areas filled with Rift energy.

Skills: The Gypsy, as a graduate of the Timelord Academy, and a citizen of Gallifrey, is quite skilled with all things technological. She is able to pilot her type 70 Tardis without unnecessary rattling or jostling and keeps up with the maintenance of the engine religiously. She is also skilled at knitting, she's a skilled pickpocket, she's an excellent cook and can make many different varieties of tea and soothing beverages, as befits a typical old/gypsy woman who would one might encounter. She can pick locks, hack most computers, and is capable of talking her way out of most issues, preferring not to use violence but knows over thirty different ways to incapacitate most races if ABSOLUTELY required.

Strengths/Powers: She is a skilled hypnotist, able to manipulate the minds of those around her into not remembering her face or who she is. She uses her knowledge of history as a way of giving advice and is also skilled at blending into the background. While not making herself invisible... if she doesn't want to be found you won't be able to NOTICE her, as she can cloud people's perception of her existence.

Weaknesses: Anyone trained in resisting psychic influences or other such things can easily see through her lying, through her psychic paper and through her ability to cloud perception. Races advanced enough to have scanners are also able to detect her fairly easily. She is also allergic to cats, and coffee makes her ill.

History/Background: The Gypsy, or Florence as she goes by when conversing with lower races, is a Timelord from the planet Gallifrey. Like all children of her world, at the age of 8 she was taken before a rift in time known as the Untempered Schism, a tear in the fabric of the universe in which you can see all of time, a phenomenon that the Timelords refer to as "The Vortex". Some run away, some go mad... she was inspired. She saw time itself, the beauty, the danger... and she wanted to see it all. She spent years in the academy, graduating at the top of every class that she could take, with the goal of trying to receive her own Tardis. Her parents had enough influence/favor with the others of the TImelord High council, and she was taken to where the Timelords grew their TARDIS capsules. To most, the TARDIS was just a machine... an object to carry them through time and space... but to some special Timelords, it is not just an object, they realize it is a living being... for only that which lives can enter the streams of time. After spending several days exploring the secret growing facility... she found one that was open. A newly grown Type 70-A, in a section of the fields roped off as it had been damaged by the Time War. They weren't supposed to be used... but The Gypsy didn't care.

The Gypsy ended up plotting a course towards Earth, a popular destination for observation. Humans were so fascinating to her. They nuked themselves, polluted their own planet and yet somehow in the course of history went from people bashing rocks with other rocks to spreading out amongst the stars. The Gypsy dressed appropriately, and spent years watching Humanity. She observed from the side lines.. never interfering beyond "Advice" or a "potion", as there were always stories about some mysterious Gypsy woman who would give them a potion that saved their loved one, or gave them a hot drink on a night they were freezing and was gone the next day. Things of that nature. There was always the mysterious woman who just HAPPENED to be there with the right thing... so while she technically was a Renegade, interfering with time... it felt like it was necessary. Little touches here and there couldn't hurt... could it? A cup of tea and a bun wouldn't alter any wars, a knitted scarf on a cold day wouldn't prevent history from happening. A mysterious warning might save you from a wolf but it wouldn't stop your inevitable fate... so she felt that, although she technically WAS meddling, as you should never do... she wasn't REALLY meddling. She kept her TARDIS looking like a wagon with a horse. Technically it was a Mechanical horse, but it looked and acted real enough, especially with illusion filters over it. If she needed money she'd peddle various wares in medieval towns. Spices, blankets, that sort of thing. Nobody really questioned her... a wandering gypsy never really had a home after all. Any oddities in her speech or mannerisms were just attributed to "jus one of dem gyppos" and ignored. It was times such as those that she remembered a friend of hers called Sweeper, who once remarked, "It's funny how secretly you can move when you're a loony monk dancing through the streets banging a drum". People see it as you simply trying to demand attention and as such... give you none. People often don't look at that which doesn't fit their perception of reality, for this very reason. You see an odd object on the corner that wasn't there yesterday... what do you do? Walk right by it and forget about it. It's not harming you, it's not in your way... it doesn't matter anymore. This, she had observed.. pretty much defined the Human Race.

The Gypsy has spent a very long time amongst the humans... well over two hundred years. She observes History as it happens, occasionally returning home to Gallifrey to file her reports, maintain her vessel and visit her family. Unlike some, she hasn't seem fit to taking a companion or follower to show off the universe to. They would just get in the way, anyway. Humans are like lemmings... show them an incredibly dangerous planet in the far reaches of the universe and they just run off to touch things. Maybe not lemmings... perhaps children? Psychotic little children always screaming and touching things they shouldn't. Perhaps one day she might find one worthy of an adventure, while it was...technically not allowed, it wasn't exactly uncommon for Timelords to keep a pet or two from their favourite planets. Occasionally it just ended up... happening. You'd be sitting there, observing some alien space ship crash into a planet or other, then all of a sudden the ship comes careening towards you and your ship. You impulsively grab the nearest of the local primitives, take it into your ship as you get out of the way.. now you had to feed it and clothe it and give it a room to sleep in and do its business in. They talked your ear off and never forgot about you. It was sometimes easier to wipe their brains but in the moment when they look at you with those big sad eyes... well few of the renegades were able to resist. Besides... at least humans LOOKED right... they looked like Timelords.. but with one heart only and none of the other superior internal bits. Of course, as The Gypsy was only on her first life, she only had one heart too. She wouldn't gain her second heart until after she died for the first time and she was in no hurry for that. So far, this has never happened to The Gypsy.
 
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*Fantasy Character... would fit best in Modern setting*

Name: Malach, "The Noble One, Angel of Nobility etc"

Age: 7.6 billion years old... give or take a century

Gender: Male, though technically genderless in spirit/divine form.

Sexuality: Pansexual. Sex is not a sin, regardless of partner, provided it is consensual and they are of age , not a beast etc. Is a top/dom sexually... he follows nobody but the Gods, or his superior's orders, except when it suits him.

Species: Angel

Equipment/Attire: A simple angelic sword, indestructible and capable of slicing through most if not all earth materials for anything demonic/truly evil. Wields a multi-barreled shotgun capable of blowing a hole the size of a car window through an armored vehicle, and for the trickier enemies, a sniper rifle capable of hitting a target the size of a golf ball from 4 miles away. Clothing wise, He typically wears loose grey pants, a short sleeved white shirt, spectacles so that he can appear more "Normal" and usually sandals. If he has to go outside, he typically also adorns an older fashioned black cassock he found in a closet of the church he lives in, and black boots he found under a bed. A medallion of divine metals adorns his chest, allowing him to more easily access the divine energies of heaven when not in close proximity to consecrated ground.
(*It might take you to the page instead of the direct image link.. beware of potential NSFW advertisements.. but the image itself is not NSFW*)

Skills: While not an archangel, Malach is capable of using most forms of weaponry, so long as they're not overly complex. No alien death beams could he wield.. but the majority of firearms would respond to his command for example. Swords, spears, archery, hand to hand combat. He is capable of using most forms of martial arts, when not using his angelic powers he is capable of sprinting for several miles, and is a decent climber.

Strengths/Powers: Malach is capable of flying close to the speed of light, if not actually faster. To most it resembles teleportation. He is capable of laying on hands to heal any injury, including someone who recently died and who did not have their head severed.. he's nowhere near as good as his big brother Gabriel. He is capable of using the energy of heaven to smite lesser demons, his vision is greater than any human, he is capable of spotting things most would miss. He has super strength, able to lift things such as tanks with ease. He can breathe in the vacuum of space, he is unaffected by normal weapons most of the time, only able to be hurt by demonic, angelic or other forms of powerful weapons. In the event of a large scale invasion, a higher ranking demonic appearance, or something else that would be considered... "Apocalyptic" He is able to call for help from his older brother, Camael, the Archangel of Strength, Courage, War, and Wrath to deal with the threat, BUT he must be absolutely certain otherwise he risks STARTING an apocalypse.
(*It might take you to the page instead of the direct image link.. beware of potential NSFW advertisements.. but the image itself is not NSFW*)

Weaknesses: Although he possesses great might, skills etc... he isn't perfect. Malach possesses little in the way of "Field experience" as such he can come across as somewhat awkward at times. He also has a much more limited supply of holy power/grace in comparison to, for example, Michael, and struggles during extended battles. His vessel isn't perfect, it requires sustenance. Food, water, wine, sleep, sex... he has base needs unlike some of his brethren he is incapable of simply sustaining it using holy energy. When his holy energy is depleted, he is incapable of using his powers, and is vulnerable to more weaponry than he would be normally. If his body is destroyed, it takes more than a week to regenerate it, although if he is killed using demonic weaponry he is forced back to the heavens, where he must be re-constructed and resurrected by a god, which could take upwards of a month.

History/Background: Although Malach has lived for over seven billion years... he unfortunately doesn't have that much of a story to tell. He was forged in the fires of Creation long after the universe was created, the first holy war between Hell and Heaven had already happened, and primarily his duties was a divine equivalent of paperwork and filing. Records of things being created and destroyed, people being born... it all had to go SOMEWHERE, and unfortunately that tended to be him. "Noble one" indeed. Malach often wished he could do something greater than just the paperwork and behind the scenes work none of the bigger angels wanted to do, but he would never question the word of his superiors. He was not one of the fallen angels, the rebels, the ones who betrayed their brethren and started a civil war to try and take over... he was a good little soldier, even if the troops he had to slay were just lines and lines of numbers. So it was for the majority of his lifetime. Multiple civil wars, the unity of the gods, the council forming... all sorts of events occurred while he simply slaved away in obscurity.

So his existence... existed. The decades became centuries, centuries became millennia. Millennia became Aeons and so on and so forth. Soul after soul, number after number, it all flowed under his pen as he worked as one of the scribes. Billions of years of droning monotony, he remained an obedient angel. Then his pen froze in its spot, he felt himself lifted by two of the archangels, and he was flown to the council chamber of the Gods themselves. Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Norse... He stood in the center of every Pantheon of deities to ever rule the planet. The words had come to him... felt rather than heard, A TASK FOR YOU, MALACH THE NOBLE ONE. He had asked, "What is this task?" TO EARTH GO YOU. QUIET MUST YE BE. DEMONS BREAKING THEIR PACT, VERIFY THIS MUST THEE. A BODY LOCATED, EQUIPMENT GIVEN. GO,

The word had rocked the heavens, the command unable to be resisted, unable to be ignored. He was blasted from the very sky, and found himself in a temple in a vessel deemed "acceptable" for the task. A devout homeless man who prayed nightly for a better life. A chance to serve the heavens had been given to him.... A simple blade bestowed upon him, his wings had been healed from aeons of disuse. He would do his task.
 
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*Steampunk Naval Character, can be adapted to science fiction easily*

Name: Octavius Reginald Forge

Naval Rank: Chief Engineer, Captain, "Captain of Engineering"

Age: 46

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual, dominant.

Species: Cyborg/Human

Equipment/Attire: While working in the engine room, Octavius wears a leather reinforced glove, but otherwise little else. Trousers, no shirt unless necessary and metal capped boots. When not in the engine room, Octavius wears a typical long coat made of leather to keep the rain and elements off his body. He also occasionally dons a leather tricorn, worn and aged with little of the original gilt trim remaining. After an accident, Octavius had an arm built for him, steam and electric powered which gives him moderate to full mobility, as well as containing several useful attachments. A welder, various bolt tighteners, a concealed blade, and a lube dispenser and sanitary solutions for his "Shore leave". He also lost his eye in an engineering accident, replacing it with an automaton eye. The eye is capable of seeing in the dark, it can zoom and magnify things, even see through things. IF he chooses to, he can make the eye seem almost beautiful and hypnotic, for the ladies and romantic encounters. Most of the time, if not in company of trusted individuals, he keeps it looking like it's stuck on a death glare red glow, although the rest of the functions still work unhindered. A few scars across his face make him look like he's scowling or murderous in low light, although he can sound quite charming when he chooses to.

Skills: Octavius is a skilled helmsman, exceptional engineer and skilled quartermaster. His first captain had told him that a good captain knows his ship from stem to stern, so he is a pretty good jack of all trades. He knows how to fight dirty when he needs to, and knows enough about medicine to keep himself from getting the vapors, or other forms of illness.

Weaknesses: Though Octavius is skilled, his arm does limit his mobility somewhat. Aside from it being heavy and bulky, it requires a lot of maintenance and recharging or replacement of parts. A good hit in the right place would make it useless, limiting his attack capabilities. His cyborg eye is also vulnerable to sudden bright light, as it takes longer to adjust than his actual flesh and blood eye, so a bright light would disorientate him and make him vulnerable.

History/Background: Octavius started out in a rather poor port village with no real hope of education or learning of the numbers and letters, best he could hope for was an apprenticeship with the local fishermen or a shipwright. Little Octavius had bigger ambitions than that, however, even though his mother was a "woman of negotiable affection", his father had run off before he was even born, and he had naught to his name but a pair of boots and ragged clothes. Octavius learned to steal at an early age like most boys his age, finding coins and food in places that people left unattended, in pockets or in bags. At age seven he ran away from home, using what meager amount of coins he had managed to steal and hide from his mother to get to a larger city. There, thought he, he might be able to steal more money... enough for some new clothes, maybe even paying his way into some cheap school to learn his letters. Unfortunately for him, the first person he tried to pickpocket caught him. Fortunately for him though... that man saw something in little Octavius that nobody else did. In exchange for not taking Octavius to the police, he was forced to work as an apprentice, practically a slave, on the man's merchant vessel. By day he scrubbed decks, helped peel potatoes, and did odd jobs that his little hands could reach where others couldn't... in evenings he was in the Captain's quarters, learning letters and maps. By the age of fifteen, Octavius had learned how to read and write well enough he was able to help with the paperwork and other logs of running a vessel. He had also become proficient in weapon maintenance, cooking, cleaning and basically whatever else they made him do. He shone brightest when either in an engine room or in the Captain's quarters... showing aptitudes for mechanical devices and leadership qualities.

When Octavius was a man of Eighteen years, his vessel pulled into a massive port, and his captain walked him through the streets. He was taken to a small naval academy, and tests were administered, which he passed with flying colors... but it would be the last he saw of his first captain. The tests gained him a license to work on both Naval and independent vessels, an official rank, and a paid apprenticeship to some of the greatest engineering minds of the ages. Not wasting the chance to learn, Octavius spent seven years learning every bolt of the best engines on the market. Newly licensed, papers to show he left his apprenticeship and a fancy frock to his name, Octavius then sought out work on the vessels... but none would take him. He had no breeding he had no money, despite the promises he couldn't get a naval contract from anyone. He eventually wound up on a large independent vessel, which would later become his ship, a vessel that would strike fear into the hearts of her enemies, while at the same time becoming a reliable name in shipping and smuggling alike, the ISS Erasmus.

Octavius worked his way up the ranks on the Erasmus, starting as a low ranked cabin boy, then through deeds and skirmishes slowly rose through the ranks. Shortly after his promotion to Chief Engineer, enemies boarded their vessel in the middle of the night and attempted to commandeer it. Octavius lost his eye and his arm that day, as one of the boarders damaged a volatile part of the engine's fuel system, although he saved the ship and his captain in the process. He remained bedridden after the injuries, spending most of the next month in a coma. When he came to, he found everyone had chipped in, and paid for him to get the most advanced "Automaton Arm" that they could afford, as well as his eye which they got as a bargain due to buying the arm. It took months to fully master, but by the time he was well into his late twenties, almost thirty, he had become a reliable and terrifying presence on the ship. His engineering knowledge he put to use modifying his ship in any way he could think of, some legal ways and others not so much. Smugglers hold, illegally modified weaponry, He even upgraded his ship so that it could go both underwater AND into the sky, the sky travel being the most difficult.

By age 40, the former captain of the Erasmus passed the hat onto him, making him the new captain as he retired to spend more time with his remaining limbs, and a daughter he discovered he had sired in one of the ports they frequented. Captain Octavius became a fearsome pirate, stalking the seas and skies for treasure and glory, bedding wenches and discovering the pleasures of bedding men as well. However, one night, a rival pirate took his ship, using dirty underhanded methods to board his ship under a flag of Parley, then betraying him and leaving him with naught but an escape boat and a pistol. Octavius somehow made it through a storm to a nearby island, and was lucky enough to encounter a crew stopping for water. He modified his story, telling them he was the Captain of a merchant vessel... which was technically accurate. He had maintained the smuggling and cargo running part of his former captain as to maintain a cover story if port authorities ever gave him grief... and he was shanghaied by pirates. He was able to barter his last coins for passage to a nearby port, where he sought a position on a ship.. ANY ship. He knew he would likely never be a captain... at least not that easily... so he went under his old credentials as a chief engineer, although he did provide up to date records of his recent captaincy. This granted him the long forgotten title of "Captain of Engineering", a title of honor for if a vessel's Chief Engineer was also holding the naval rank of Captain, earning him a guaranteed elevated pay, better rations and better quarters.. best yet it would require any Captain to speak to him as equal. He wasn't going to be talked down to or treated as though he was inferior, but he didn't mind serving someone for now if it eventually allowed him to reach his goal.
 
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