Uneducated Serf

TALES OF ARAGON (OOC)

“Okay, maybe this time, if it’s not heated then- Ow, damnit!” These were the choice words of a rather disgruntled chemist after once again, screwing up another caustic mixture and resulting in another chemical burn on his hand. Victor sighed and hefted his fuming mixing pot, walked over to the window of his barely rented room, and opened it and poured the reeking mixture out, not really taking into consideration that someone might be walking past at that time. He didn’t really stop to check, as he immediately closed the window, set the pot down, and slumped down and slowly slid down the wall. After hitting the floor, and squirming a bit to get comfortable, he blankly stares at the wall, and tries to recall how many times he’s repeated this exact situation.

This was probably the third, possibly even the fourth time this had had happened. By now, Victor had little to no motivation for continuing. He’s lost track of time, he hasn’t slept in days, and he is in danger of being evicted. Victor quietly mumbles to himself while lying face-down on the wooden floor, occasionally blowing at errant dust-bunnies and bits of hair. He barely even noticed that he’s being slowly lulled to sleep by both the feeling of failure, and the noxious fumes in the room.

After seemingly an instant, Victor suddenly wakes with a coughing fit. The entire room smelled like death. He immediately tried to get up, but the candle lighting his room had gone out long ago, and has left him groping around and bumping into furniture in the darkness. After a bit of struggling, he manages to reach the window, and force it open. He instinctively shields his eyes from the impending retinal destruction from the light, only to be greeted by a starry night. Grimacing at the sight of another wasted day, he reflexively muttered to himself a string of colorful words mostly revolving around buggery. It’s going to be another long night, isn’t it?

TALES OF ARAGON (OOC)

I'm slightly new here and I have a question. When a character is speaking, does the text have to be bold?

TALES OF ARAGON (OOC)

The silence is a bit disconcerting. Does this mean I'm denied?

TALES OF ARAGON (OOC)

Name: Victor Cox (The last name has been the butt of many jokes throughout his life, and as result he usually only gives his first name, or fabricates a surname.)

Race: Generic, vanilla, human.

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Appearance: Victor is fairly nondescript from a distance, but up close he’s quite odd. He stands at about 5’ 9”, and is very thin, but not necessarily fit. His skin is rather pale, almost sickly, giving off the impression that he doesn’t go outside much. His rather dull sienna hair is rather long and unkempt, as it sticks out in many directions making him look bald in some places. He has bronze eyes, which seemingly can’t stay still, as if he is paranoid about something. In lieu of facial hair, he has a small razor mark on the back of the left side of his jaw. For some strange reason his eyebrows are very sparse, and he smells strongly of sulphur.

In terms of clothing, around his torso he wears a long-collared charcoal-colored overcoat that drapes down to his knees. The coat has two pockets near the hips, and is fastened with polished brass buttons. Underneath that, he wears a formerly white tunic stained with spatters of God-knows-what. Slung around his back is a beige satchel closed by two leather strips fastened around two brass buckles. Covering his legs is a pair of brown trousers with obvious wear around the knees. He’s not wearing any shoes.

Personality: Victor is a cynic, a downer, and a pessimist. He has problems with plowing through hardship, and often quits halfway through and runs away. Lately, he’s realized that this hasn’t got him very far. He’s actually quite bright, but he oftentimes discredits himself, and focuses on his failures. He’s not very sympathetic, and quite hypocritical at times, a trait often shown when he gets at others with show copious amounts of self pity. He’s actually quite loyal when motivated, and on a good day, he’s very creative and industrious. Unfortunately, these days are becoming rarer and rarer.

Brief history: Born as the youngest son in a quite wealthy family, he was often overlooked, but not mistreated. This gave him quite a lot of time to entertain himself, and at a young age, he found out he loved chemistry. At first it was just simple stuff, like forming copper coatings on things using vinegar. But it quickly advanced into making and synthesizing various toxins and acids. For a long time, life was simple, that is, until he was almost drafted into a short-lived town militia to fight some unknown force at the age of 15. He saw the danger in this, and he fled his home, as he decided that even if he was going to die someday, that day wouldn’t be the fated day. While cowardly, his decision saved his life, as his town was razed the very next day, and just about everyone was dead. He didn’t really care for his parents, but he certainly missed his alchemical room, and his wealth. Years passed, and now days he’s just a washed-up vagabond, trying to survive this world and indulge in his little hobby simultaneously.

Powers: The splitting power of cynicism.
Weapons/Accessories: He carries various vials of chemicals and alcohols in his bag. He also has a very thin chain of bronze around his neck. As a weapon, he has a rather basic looking iron stiletto kept in the back of his trousers. Like said earlier, it’s a very stark looking weapon. No fancy crossguard, no encrusted gem, just a little sharp metal cross. It looks rarely used actually.