Hillan

Hillan's Parade Of Characters

"Play with fire and you will get burned."

Spellsmith

| B I R T H N A M E: |

Nicholas Dimitri Belkov

| N I C K N A M E ( S ): |[

Niko,
Criminal,
Firefly.

| A L I A S ( E S ): |

Spellsmith

| S E X: |

Male

| A G E: |

21

| A P P E A R A N C E: |

6'1, 160 pounds. Niko's athletic and on the skinny side. His muscles are well defined and he looks strong, albeit a wee bit stringy. His skin is naturally tanned showing off his Mediterranean ancestry,

| A B I L I T I E S: |

| S K I L L S: |

| B I O G R A P H Y: |

| M I S C. N O T E S: |

N/A.

Hillan's Parade Of Characters

Five months ago:

The rain was pouring down in the streets of the Narrows, the day was coming to an end. The Doors of the Crown Vic slammed shut on both sides, as the two men walked out. One of them was Douglas O'Malley, detective of the New Lilith Police Department, Precinct 11. The other was Lieutenant Thomas Campbell of the same Precinct. Douglas was a hotshot detective, late twenties, good looking for a cop. Short black hair, brown eyes, 6'1 160 pounds. "Prettyboy, pay attention." The older detective told Doug as the two crossed the streets of the narrow. Doug's partner was the grizzled fifteen years on the force LT. Campbell. The Blonde haired 6'5 210 pounds worth of raw muscle, despite being in his 50's was rugged, but still certainly earned a few looks.

Campbell was wearing a white dress-shirt, a wool coat, suspenders and a pair of suit pants and a pair of nice leather shoes n his feet, his hands were gloved with brown leather gloves. Douglas wore a black leather jacket, a V-neck T-shirt, jeans and Sneakers plus a rollex watch. Douglas came from old money, he didn't even need to be a cop, he just did it for kicks.

They were on the trail of a shooter, responsible for three deaths at a night club three nights ago. The shooting was drug related and the suspect, Juan Vendelo, was suspected to be related to the 49th Street Kings, a remnant of the now defunct Harbor Kings who used to be one of the City's biggest gangs before The Mavericks crushed them.

The two police men walked into the apartment building, scurring up the stairs as everyone who saw them avoided matching their gazes. These parts of the town, the cops were more feared than the most hardened criminals.

Thomas knocked on the door, 14C. The home of Juan's Girlfriend, Francesca. "Francesca Benito? This is the New Lilith Police. Open up!" Thomas shouted as his fist hit the door again. A female scream was heard from inside the building, and Thomas's hand found itself inside of his jacket, pulling the nine milimeter pistol from it's holster. Douglas grabbed his gun from his belt holster as well as the senior detective nodded, kicking in the door.

"FREEZE, POLICE NOBODY MOVE!" Thomas shouted as he scanned the room, finding only the woman sitting on the floor, looking at the floor, propped against the wall. Thomas moved towards her as Douglas scanned the rest of the apartment, vanishing behind the next doorway as Thomas checked on the woman. As he got closer, he saw blood behind her on the wall, a a thick stream of blood running down her throat. She had been cut open. Thomas shouted. "Doug, one casualty over here!" Doug cleared his throat. "Uh, Boss. That might be two." Douglas said as he walked out of the next room, hands behind his head, a shotgun to his back. Thomas quickly pulled up his gun, aiming it at the gunman, but Juan smiled. "Wouldn't do that if I were you, officer, or you're gonna be picking small pieces off your partner off the walls." The Shotgun was taped in his hand, his finger on the trigger - if Thomas shot Juan, Juan would shoot Douglas.

Douglas looked at Thomas and nodded, mouthing "Do it." Thomas shook his head and flipped the pistol in his hand, making the handle point towards Douglas and Juan. Taking a step forward, he moved as quickly as he could, pushing Douglas to the side, tossing his pistol to Douglas as he hit the ground, and moving to grab the gun and disarm Juan, a maneuver he had done literally hundreds of times before.

But this time, he was slower than usual. A shot rang out and the double barrel shotgun fired. The slugs found their way to Thomas's right shoulder, tearing through skin, muscle and bone. Thomas fell to the ground and Douglas shot Juan dead on the spot.

***

One Piece: A Golden Age, A Dark Age - The Boozehound Chronicles

The Knight Impersonator felt a pat on his shoulder, as he turned around, he found a small child standing in front of him. "Sir Knight.. Could you spare a coin?" The child begged with her massive eyes with tears welling "I have nothing to eat, you see, and my baby brother.. He's sick." To not blow his cover, the knight gave the kid four pieces of gold. A few minutes passed, the knight still looking around for his contact, when a tap on his armored shoulder let out a slight clank.

Behind him stood a man draped in a black robe and a cordial hat. One of the high priests of the kingdom. His face looked old, his skin was wrinkly and his lips were parched, right above the lips was a mustache. His eyes had a ember burning in them, one that felt quite clashing with his otherwise old age. His black hair was graying and likewise was his mustache. He wore the ordinary priest robes under the black burlap coat, draped around him like a cape - as it was for all priests of the Antler Kingdom. "Blessings of the Antler god upon ye, kind knight." The Priest spoke with a smirk. The Knight looked a little shocked, but settled down once the priest lifted his coat a little, revealing the Tanto in his belt.

"Nice work with the kid there. Not bad for a Quartzie." Marv spoke hushed, using the shepards cane that was part of his attire to walk towards the throne room, where the other priests and knights were. Today was a day of ritual for the newborn children of the past season in the Kingdom, which meant that a lot of people would be coming in and out of this room - and a lot of people would be meeting the king and Queen. They were due to arrive any moment.

*** Meanwhile, in the square.

A man pushed the stall over, the fruits and vegetables spilling into the streets. "Ya' think you can hold out on the bloody King of Antler with that puny lil taxes?! I've seen you had customers here every single day, you're holding out on me, Richards!" The would be taxcollecter shouted, as he grabbed the shopkeeper, Richards by the collar.

"N-no, I swear! Most people are just window shopping!" The Tax collector slammed his hand through the stall, breaking it further. "Next time that's gone' be your blooming skull, ya' got that?!" The taxman spat in Richards face as he was quaking. He fell to his knees once the taxman let go of him and people all around looked on in horror.

The Taxman walked away laughing, looking for his next prey. But he didn't get far before he was sent flying onto his back in front of Richards, whom looked up to see the ginger haired man - a red leather jacket over his black Tanktop with the oh so familiar text on it. He worse a bandana over the lower half of his face and put his boot to the throat of the taxman. "Your king think he can teach his people however well he damn pleases? That's incredibly non-rad of him." Chadwick said as the Taxman tried to fight off the young man, but his potbelly and smokers lungs proved him to match for the younger, stronger man. "We're here to tell the king to bugger off." Chadwick said as a hundred or so people - all wearing the same Red bandana appeared behind him, coming out of the alleyways, holding torches, tools and pitchforks.

"We're gonna take the city back from that swine of a king. Now now, little piggy. Run on back to your master!" Chadwick said as the Taxman got back up onto his feet and began running. Chadwick walked over to Richards whom was crying over his spilled fruit, he handed him his hand and a red bandana in it. "Will you join us in our revolution, bruhther?" Chadwick asked Richards whom took his hand and the bandana.


Soon, riots errupted in the Marketplace - in the docks and in the harbor, the City Guards occupied with dealing with those, leaving the timed Explosives at the weakest parts of the wall unchecked.

One Piece: A Golden Age, A Dark Age - The Boozehound Chronicles

Meanwhile at the Palette Company Field Headquarters.

Goldenrod sat with papers in front of him, singing one after the other. The cut to the Don. Authorizing bribes of Marines and Four Seasons personel alike. He was busy doing the housekeeping that was neccesary to keep his company afloat. The door swung open, and in stepped the pale girl with the pastel colored hair. "You working, daddy?" Whitney asked as Goldenrod nodded. "He is. Go away, Daddy's busy."
"But dad! I need you to write me a check!"

"You already got your allowance, sweetie." Goldenrod mumble, flipping through papers. " But I spent that money on my new apartment, and a gift for -he who shall not be named-! The shoplady wouldn't let me return it after he left, it's all her fault!" Whitney cried out, as tears begun welling in her eyes. Goldenrod looked at her and scoffed. "Don't cry, Princess. Fine, daddy will write you a check. And, I promise I will make that turncoat pay for what he did to you."

"Oh thank you! You're the best!" She said as she leaned over the back of his chair and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek, taking the check as she stood back up. A knock on the door as a elderly man in a yellow suit stepped in.

"Goldenrod, sir? Sorry to interrupt you during family time."

[Mr. Guldheim, Head Of Quartz Legal Division]
Whitney smiled "Oh, don't worry about it Guldie! Me and Daddy were just having a chat, I'm gonna head out and get papa a really nice present as thanks!" He girl said with a smile. Guldheim nodded in approval. "Very nice, miss."

"Yes, what is it, Guldheim?" Goldenrod asked, pushing the thin rimmed glasses up onto his nose, as he licked the end of his pencil to keep the ink wet. "It seems that the pirate you've been on the lookout for - the man who reeks of spirit, who beat the thug out of Isaac, and the one who got Kuhn to join him has been spotted on the Island."

Goldenrod's eyes widened and a vein showed in his face. "When?"

"A little less than an hour ago, sir." Guldheim informed him. "So Cerulean failed, eh? Interesting. Deploy your men at once to deal with him, Guldheim."

"We shall make him wish he had never been born, sir." Guldheim said with sadistic glee as he turned his heel and left Goldenrod.

Ravenholm

Will post in the morning (and read everyone else's.)

Ravenholm

woops

My Sad Life

same

Ravenholm

Eddieboy

E D W A R D T H O R N

| N A M E |

Edward Amadeus Thorn

| A G E |

27

| P E R S O N A L I T Y |

Edward is.. Neurotic. Yes, that's one way to put it. A bit of a mess, a spass, talking in tongues or blabbering on about absolute nonsense.. When he is lucid however, Edward is a hypermaniac, he's efficient, he's calculating, he's incredibly intelligent a polymath, in fact. A social networker without peer, and in many ways frankly put just a genius America hasn't seen since the founding fathers. His powers, added on with his substance abuse and his alcoholism however makes this genius and hypermania tough to see behind the dellusions of a madman who'd rather spend his time down the bottle or talking to animals than being productive. Raised incredibly religious, when he hit puberty he immediately figured he would be a sinner - being a bisexual but incapable of love. And a couple of years into his adolescents,
his fears became all too real with the emergence of his abilities. Being inside the head of people seems like everyone's dream, but it's really more of a nightmare. Because of this, he mostly uses his abilities on animals, making his probably most defining trait - after the booze and the nicotine that reeks off of him - be how he's a lover of animals.

| A P P E A R A N C E |

Ed Stands at 6'3 and 189 pounds. He's got a athletic build as in his periods of mania he workout as much as he can handle.
His face is never clean shaven, sporting a light sunburn and a fice o'clock shadow, if not a beard. His hair's a mess, swept to the side with no real thought put into it. His clothing changes from casual to business casual. Dress shirts or baseball T's are the most common thing that he drapes himself in. Stonewashed, ripped jeans or a pair of chinos and a pair of leather boots or sneakers on his feet.
carries a shoulder holster which could hold both a pistol and a combat knife but remains empty these days.

| A B I L I T Y |

Hyper aggressive neural communication;
Eddie is a telepath. He can read thoughts, he can implant thoughts and he can take them away. The mind's a lock and Ed has the skeleton key, even though sometimes he uses it more like a crowbar. The complexity of how easy one's brain is to penetrate depends on the person. Someone who has their guard up is in general a lot more difficult than someone that isn't.

Strengths:
Reading your thoughts; Eddie can read what's on your immediate mind, what that little voice, or perhaps many little voices in your head are telling you. He has a innate precognition for impulses that, while slowed by his own drowsiness, gives him a immediate edge in any situation, regardless off if it's a match of chess or a gunfight.

Mindwhisperer; Ed will whisper sweet nothings into your mind's eye, a clever manipulator on his best days, allowing him to influence the actions of others.

Astral Projectile Canon; Edward can cast his own consciousness into another man or mouse, leaving his body catatonic. This has limited uses and provides massive strain on Edward's psyche, it requires great concentration and the constant suppression of the other person's consciousness, making it no small ordeal. This is however most often used for scouting, putting his mind into that of an animal's, for instance.

Senseblast; Theoretically, Edward can use his abilities to put another person's brain into stasis, to pause every signal going in and out of the brain and make it appear as such time stands still for that person. He's never demonstrated this usage of his ability but in a pinch he's made hints that it's there, leading him to believe he is far more powerful than he would seem. If he can stop time, what else is there he could do?

Limitations:
Edward is an alcoholic, a drug addict and a deeply disturbed individual. He's paranoid and he's tough to deal with, while he's made sure everyone who knew him is dead or worse, it doesn't stop him from imagining them to be very much so on his footsteps. Pressure and the conflict of self are Edward's greatest challenges, more so than the actual limitations of his power.

His ability relies on concentration, focus and inner peace. If he cannot silence the voices inside of his own head, how could he ever hope to find those voices of others? People who keep their guard up, their mind sharp, have no obvious mental weaknesses or vices makes it tougher for Edward to find his way into their mind.

| S K I L L S |

Ed's a genius, a beautiful mind, a modern Hamilton or Mozart. He's a master of math, knows as many languages as he's heard people think in. His abilities have prompted his natural problem solving and puzzling abilities to work in overdrive, as cracking a person's brain is a lot like cracking a code. By the way he engages with people, it become clear Ed has a background in the intelligence business, perhaps he was a cop or a spook.

He's a lousy hand to hand combatant, but the scars on his hands, jaw, forearms and torso would indicate he's been in more than a few scraps. Overreliance on his ability in a heated situation's his motto, turning allies into foes and foes into friends. Making a shooter miss their target with a thought, or making that knife aimed at him find it's way into another foe. Triggering a deep seated fear in a foe, or perhaps sending soldiers of the animal kingdom to fight his battles is more up his alley. His greatest finesse however, is deescalating conflicts, solving them before they have to turn to violence.

| E Q U I P M E N T |

Cross necklace he got from his mother, or was it sister as a child
Aviators that have seen their best days. Fucked to hell with scratches and specks of dirt, blood and god knows what else.
He owns a nine millimeter pistol, he owns no ammunition that the gun will shoot.
Pack of smokes and a zippo lighter.
Flask of liquor in his jacket at all times.

| B E L I E F S |

He's Catholic, constantly in a state of apology for his very existance. While he's on one hand smart enough to see that the church is full of shit, he's on the other hand messed up enough that he beliefs all of their preachings about people with gifts, non-straights and so forth. He prays on the regular and is known to whisper a prayer when things get dicey. He owns several bibles, in fact, he's got an entire bookshelf. They are the most common used way of transferring coded messages within the city walls - and outside of it.

|T R A I T S|

Trailing off during sentences, or having disjointed thoughts are incredibly common for Edward, making him perhaps not the easiest person in the world to talk to. Well, especially not if you're one of the only people in the world who knows he can hack your brain, while barely standing up straight.

He likes whiskey above all, despises beer and wine, but will settle for any other kind of spirits. He can't sleep and has horrible nightmares, so whatever drug he can get his hands on that will knock him out with a couple of shots of whiskey will be at the top of his Christmas list. When he is lucid enough, he loves Poker, Texas style, even long before he could literally see past the oppositions poker face. The closest to love he has is for his pet squirrel Spyke, who's the only one he openly shares his thoughts and feelings with.

He despises owls. They are elitist pricks and Edward will not tolerate them near him. He hates kids and women in general annoy him. One time they're passable is when they're as fucked up on whatever substance as he is and in bed. On that note, he hates commitments and relationships. When you can literally read your partner's mind during intercourse - and you often do unwillingly, it really kills the mood.

He fears being found out. Not as bisexual or as a mutant, but as the monster he really is, of being held accountable for the things he's done and the people he's hurt. Well, that, and whatever his nearest neighbor is having nightmares about.

X-Men/Attack on Titan inspired RP.

@Hillan All good. The only thing I see which would be in need of edit, is the mention of America, since this RP takes place in a fictional version of Europe. That's trivial though. The character's accepted in either event.

@Shard

Right. My bad.

<Snipped quote by Hillan>

One of my favorite quotes is, "I came into this world kicking and screaming and covered in blood, I have no qualms about going out the same way."

No idea who said it.

I look forward to writing with you again, it has been too long indeed.

@Vonghese

Liksewise, brother!

X-Men/Attack on Titan inspired RP.

I'm hitting the hay. Will modify my sheet if neccesary tomorrow. It's six am and I am be-eeat.