[center][h2][b][color=2f4f4f]Character Sheet Example[/color][/b][/h2][img]http://i.imgur.com/ohfwxje.png[/img][/center][b][color=2f4f4f]Name:[/color][/b] [i]Charles Alexander Flamel.[/i]

[b][color=2f4f4f]Age:[/color][/b] [i]67 years.[/i]

[b][color=2f4f4f]Appearance:[/color][/b] [i]Despite Charles' age, his years have in fact been very well lived. An almost six feet tall, finely dressed gentleman of chiseled features and stout built, whose eyes betray a keen insight born of a long life.[/i]

[b][color=2f4f4f]Backstory:[/color][/b] [i]Charles was born and spent the majority of his childhood at his family's hometown at the Northwestern regions of the country. They led a bourgeois lifestyle, dealing with banking, whose primary clientele were their region's many mid-sized shipyards, propelled by the extensive whaling industry of the northern seas. It was on this lively, yet cold region that Charles was raised and —up to this day— it keeps on being the only place he considers himself at home. In fact, his favorite entertainment is sitting by his loft's ample windows and read a good book with the crashing of waves and the rambunctious cries of the port workers as the only background noises.

Regardless of his passion for his homeland, once Charles came of age, he left everything behind and went to study at a prestigious college, dedicating his following years to the subjects of Law and Accounting. A few years into his education, Charles decided that he needed to broaden his horizons even further. For such, he enlisted in the military where he served for the next decade and a half, joining many campaigns on the Southern and Eastern overseas colonies.

Once his time in the military came to an end, Charles returned back to his hometown: An accomplished man. These days he dedicates most of his time to transcribe his journals into an autobiography as well as acquiring rare volumes for his library, the testament of his existence that Charles seeks to leave behind once he expires.[/i]

[b][color=2f4f4f]Inventory:[/color][/b] [i]
A brass pocket watch, previously owned by his father and grandfather.

A six-shot, single-action military revolver which has been with him ever since his time in the army.

Twelve spare cartridges.

A pair of bifocal eyeglasses.

A cane topped with a brass owl effigy.[/i]

[b][color=2f4f4f]Intro/Sample Post:[/color][/b] [i]"Hmm, I must really be getting old," those were the fist words to leave Charles' mouth as he exited his coach. The trip from his homeland to the old mansion was indeed a taxing one, and not just because Charles was starting to feel the weight of his age pushing him further and further close to the grave. The weather itself was terrible with chilling rain and howling winds. He had seen worse in his youth, far worse, yet Charles was indeed getting too old for this type of journey.

"That does not mind, anyway. If the volumes which I seek can be found on the Rivianne's library, I'll have not lost my time," the gray-haired man said to himself before rapping at the engraved mahogany doors. Yet, as soon as the doors were answered and he stepped inside the main hall, greeting a peculiar scar-faced maid... everything went black. The one thing Charles wouldn't forget is the ringing in his ears, almost as if his skull were being drilled into.[/i]

[b][color=2f4f4f]Other:[/color][/b] [i]N/A.[/i]