[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/Pjp30mj.jpg?1[/img][/center]
[color=f7941d][B]| [I]NAME:[/I] |[/B][/color] 
[INDENT]Luke Nelson[/INDENT]  

[color=f7941d][B]| [I]ALIAS:[/I] |[/B][/color] 
[INDENT]Sandstorm[/INDENT]  

[color=f7941d][B]| [I]ABILITIES/SKILLS/EQUIPMENT:[/I] |[/B][/color] 
[INDENT]
[color=f7941d][b]Sand Manipulation:[/b][/color]  In the simplest sense, Luke has the ability to generate and manipulate sand, provided that there is a source nearby. Using his power, Luke can manipulate it in both aggressive and defensive manners, from creating massive constructs to unleashing a terrible sandstorm.

[color=f7941d][b]Hand to Hand Combat:[/b][/color]  While he isn’t a martial artist, and comes nowhere close to matching the likes of Batman or his Robins, Luke is a competent fighter in his own right. With his own home-grown style, derived largely from boxing, he blends a variety of different techniques to hold his own in a brawl.

[color=f7941d][b]Freerunning:[/b][/color]  As great as manipulating sand is, it lacks in providing Luke with a speedy form of travel. To make up for this, he’s trained himself to be an expert freerunner, able to scale rooftops and obstacles with remarkable ease and grace.

[color=f7941d][b]Near-Peak Human Conditioning:[/b][/color]  After years of training, Luke has developed his body past the state typically seen in teenagers his age. Stronger, faster, and quicker to react, he constantly pushes himself to perfect his body to the pinnacle of human development.

Luke wears a suit composed of a kevlar and ballistic nylon weave, providing him with sufficient, lightweight protection against blades and low-calibre firearms. His utility belt contains smoke and flashbang pellets in the case of a needed diversion, along with a pouch of sand, ready for use. In his helmet is a HUD display, showcasing the conditions of any living being in the area. The suit in its entirety is courtesy of Lucius Fox, via WayneTech. 
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[color=f7941d][B]| [I]LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES:[/I] |[/B][/color] 
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Luke cannot use his powers without a source of sand nearby. Without it in his vicinity, he is powerless. Along with that, he is only human. All of the basic limitations that hold us down apply to him, too. A well-placed punch can break his bones, a sharp blade can pierce his skin and a bullet will most certainly do some damage, if not kill him. Although he is a skilled fighter, his knowledge of martial arts is fairly limited, and so he is more akin to a brawler, if anything. While his knowledge does extend to some martial arts techniques, he relies heavily on his skills as a boxer. As a result, he can only hold his own against common street thugs, finding himself using his powers against more skilled enemies.
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[color=f7941d][b]| [i]SAMPLE POST:[/i] |[/b][/color] 
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[quote]
[i]It was a cold evening in Gotham when the man came to their house. He’d demanded to see Luke’s dad, the veins in his neck popping, his face red in frustration. [b]“He has a debt to pay off,”[/b] he’d said, [b]“When Penguin wants his money, he’ll get it.”[/b] He was a tall man, muscular, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans, a tattoo of sharp lines and swirls running down the side of his bald head. Luke’s mother could do nothing to keep him out of the house, that brave woman, God bless her soul, and he barged past her, extracting a pistol from his belt.

Luke was only little back then, but he remembered every detail: the way his dad begged for more time, the way the man denied him his request. The deafening sound of the gun going off as his dad attempted to wrestle it free; the splintering of wood as the bullet ricocheted, barely missing his mother’s head; his dad’s whimpers as the man unloaded punch after punch, transforming him into an unmoving, bloody pulp; his mother’s scream as the man turned to her, gun raised; the thud of her body falling to the ground, as the bullet met its mark. 

That night, Luke Nelson was exposed to a world his parents had never wanted him to see. A world of crime and corruption, of pain and loss, of sadism and greed. A world he became determined to put an end to.[/i]
[/quote]
The punching bag swung in a wide arc, propelled by Luke’s hook. He’d been hitting it for a long time. Sweat trickled down his forehead, dripping onto the floor, adding to the already large pool below his feet. His chest heaved as he breathed, in and out, in and out, inhaling and exhaling with more force than his punches.

The Guilt was back. It had been for a while now. Every time he closed his eyes he went back to the night his parents died and saw his dad bloody, his mum screaming. No matter how much he willed it to stop, his mind kept it at the forefront of his thoughts, never stopping, never giving him a chance to rest. It tormented him, but it also gave him something else: motivation. Without the Guilt, he never would have began this crusade in the first place. After many wasted hours trying to rid it from his mind, he made his way to the nearest gym, a small, run-down building in the South-West corner of the Cauldron, and took his frustration out on the punching bag.

Chest still heaving, he stared at the bag, gently swaying from side to side. It was mocking him, he could tell, as if saying, [i]"You can’t even take me down. How can you hope to stand against those criminal scumbags?"[/i] 

That got to him. Growling in anger, he focused his mind onto it, and with a flick of his wrist, it exploded into fragments of leather, the sand contained inside it launching all over the floor.

[color=f7941d]“How’s [i]that[/i] for a takedown?”[/color]

And just like that, the Guilt was gone. It was time to find a new gym. 
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[color=f7941d][b]| [i]NOTES:[/i] |[/b][/color] 
[indent]
[list]
[*]Speaks with a soft Australian accent.
[*]Born in Cape York, moved to Sydney as an infant, before once again relocating to Gotham.	
[*]He feels an enormous guilt towards his parents’ murder. When alone, his mind often drifts back to it; as a result, he frequently seeks the company of his teammates, with whom he is fairly lighthearted.
[*]He's gay, but quite far into the closet. No one knows about his; in some cases, not even him.
[/list]
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