Avatar of Nemaisare

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

Most Recent Posts

R E C A L L

LUCAS EMERY BRAY 05/05/2001 ( 17 ) MALE ASEXUAL

"Lucas. It’s Lucas, okay? So I know what’s up."


▼ A P P E A R A N C E:

"Lucas, okay? That’s me."
//STATS:
◼ HEIGHT | 5'9"
◼ WEIGHT | 134 lbs
◼ BUILD | Average
◼ HAIR | Haphazardly in his eyes, brown
◼ EYES | Big and brown
◼ ETHNICITY | Caucasian

//DESCRIPTION:
With mousey brown hair and eyes and rather pale skin, Lucas is fairly plain. His hair does lighten with a few highlights if he stays out in the sun long enough, and if it’s longer than an inch (and it’s been consistently over his eyes, these last few years) it flips and curls at the ends and is generally disheveled. He’s got thick, mobile eyebrows and wide but slightly close-set eyes, a somewhat round nose, full lips and a weak chin. His face has rounded out as he grew up and can be quite expressive.

With a relatively slender frame, Lucas doesn’t make for much of a presence. There is very little muscle on him, giving his arms a lanky reach and making his hands seem a bit big, as though he’s still growing into them. He has, however, reached his full height, though he could certainly do with some more filling out. He seems younger than he actually is and wearing mostly cast-offs and secondhand clothing doesn’t help much. He prefers loose clothes, with subdued tones. Baggy pants with big pockets, and sweatshirts over top of casual t-shirts. Looking put together has never been a great concern of his, nor does he manage it often.

His natural expression is a relaxed frown and quiet air of inattention, contentment or concern, but it can shift just as easily into a bright smile, confused disbelief or an angry glare as most, though they tend to be slower to shift through the motions that rearrange the meaning. His hands are often fidgeting, usually with each other as that is the safest for him to touch, but sometimes they skitter over surfaces rather nervously before settling. Lucas has a ragged, quiet voice, often as full of emotion as his expression, though he rarely raises it and tends to use it as little as possible. It is a light tenor, with a slight nasal quality if he raises it too loud. When distracted by his power, it can get a bit distant, but never lifeless or monotone.


▼ B I O G R A P H Y:

"What? Ha, no, okay. I dunno, it’s all just back to being here, isn’t it?"
Lucas was born and raised in the Summerhill district of Old Toronto. He grew up the only child of Gregory Bray, who raised him as a single father after a succinct divorce. It was not a difficult life, at least for Lucas. For Greg, raising a kid became a lifelong harrowing, though rewarding, experience. Thankfully for Lucas, he persevered and lucked out in having a good job, an understanding boss and parents more than willing to give advice whenever he needed it. He’ll admit he’s needed it a lot over the years, he never regretted choosing to ask for custody.

Lucas spent his days amusing himself and making his dad laugh (or despair for a moment or two) until school started. Then he became very serious for half a year, full of a pretentious “I’m learning stuff” attitude that his kindergarten teacher reminded him of right along into secondary. But she was a sweet little lady whom he couldn’t begrudge the ribbing, and he liked visiting her during the lunch hour when it wasn’t nice enough to play outside with his friends. Winters were for sitting in class until you were allowed to go outside and have snowball fights. And then for shoveling the walk and getting hot chocolate after plenty of tobogganing. Summers were for swimming and sailing and eating ice cream at the cottage they shared with a friend of his dad’s. Along with plenty of camping in the nearby national parks.

It was a normal, nice life broken only by the few rough spots of occasional arguments and sports induced injuries and the odd bad grade. Not that he always had good marks, but, y’know, some were worse than usual.

Then, a few months before his 13th birthday, Lucas caught a football and suddenly couldn’t stand straight. The dizzy sensation of spinning uncontrollably unnerved him completely, but his friends just laughed, thinking he’d tripped, and he didn’t know where it came from. He shrugged it off at first; maybe he just needed a drink more than he thought. But that wasn’t the end of it. Gradually he started hearing and seeing things too, sometimes clearly and other times too faintly to make out. But he found himself answering questions he hadn’t been asked, or feeling people nearby when there weren’t any. He managed to keep it quiet for a time, but anyone who knew him couldn’t help noticing the changes. He was more jumpy and stopped talking as much, afraid to hear the telltale “What? What are you talking about?”

His dad certainly noticed. Lucas was never good at keeping things hidden, and distracted as he was by these new, unbidden, complications, it was even harder than usual for him to act like everything was just fine. But Greg thought maybe it would solve itself, one of those phases everyone is so apt to say teenagers suffer from. He was still hoping it was an ordinary bout of teenager rebellion when Lucas’ grades slipped too low not to point out. They had a talk, and while Lucas wasn’t happy with the consequences, he didn’t bring up the real problem either, just a vague, ‘having trouble focusing, haven’t been getting enough sleep or something…’ It didn’t work. He failed that year, and finally caved under his dad’s disappointment. It wasn’t his fault everyone preferred talking over paying attention to the teacher!

So, Greg went to the school and talked with Lucas’ teachers. They all said the same thing: their students weren’t generally unruly, there was the odd conversation they had to stop, the occasional trouble, but nothing to disrupt class enough to explain Lucas’ poor grades. In fact, some said that he was the one doing most of the distracting, speaking out of turn or jumping at nothing.

Lucas came clean when his dad told him that, ashamed to have been putting the blame on other people, but honestly not knowing what else to blame. He didn’t know who was talking, sometimes he thought he recognized a voice, but often enough they were complete strangers. And it wasn’t just at school either. The rest emerged more hesitantly when Gregory took Lucas to see a psychiatrist. He didn’t want to go, and Greg wasn’t sure he wanted to take him, but they went.

The eventual diagnosis was paranoid schizophrenia and they prescribed a treatment to help with the symptoms as soon as it became obvious they were there to stay and other causes were ruled out. The effect was, unfortunately, mostly the opposite of what they’d expected. The drugs, meant to diminish or stop the hallucinations entirely, seemed to work for the first few doses, but they wound up unbalancing an already changing brain and, after the first month, they left him more susceptible to the outside influence of past moments and he lost contact with his own thoughts for a while, unable to fight the influx of sounds and scents and feelings.

When he came back to himself, he was missing a whole month and sitting in the car watching his dad carry bags into the old cottage, with no memory of the trip. The psychiatrist had changed their diagnosis to disorganized schizophrenia when Lucas’ mental condition deteriorated so rapidly, a disorder that had a worse prognosis than their previous conclusion, and Greg had wanted to get away from every other responsibility while he tried to accept it. To say he was relieved when he saw Lucas getting out of the car on his own is like saying a flooded house may have waterdamage. He was in tears. And Lucas was scared as hell. But he’d pulled through the worst of it.

While still taking the drugs, Lucas’ recovery was neither instantaneous, nor complete, but he did benefit from the more isolated setting at the cabin, and he and his dad started working together to learn his triggers. It became clear very quickly that city life was part of the problem, but it was Gregory’s opinion that his son couldn’t go forever living in the middle of nowhere. And for all Lucas likes the outdoors, and his opinion was definitely raised higher every time they helped clear his head, he didn’t really want to spend the rest of his life alone in a tent either. So, they continued trying to make it work in the city, finding a new psychiatrist who was considering autism as another possibility, to help him learn to focus through all the extra stimulus.

His dad wasn’t as certain that it was a known disorder by that time, having heard a few too many repeated conversations Lucas had never been party to, but he had no one to tell his suspicions to, and he was afraid of anyone else finding out. So, he stopped the sessions when Lucas gave him undeniable proof, before any sure progress could be made, and they went back to trying to figure things out on their own.

Unfortunately, Lucas was not the only one having problems during this time, and Gregory fell to lung cancer within weeks of deciding they’d stay at the cabin and make things work no matter what. He’d been ignoring the signs for some time, too long for the eventual, forced, doctor’s visit to do much good. Lucas had been aware that something was wrong, but he’d not had the mental capacity to put together the clues until it was too late. With his dad in the hospital, his grandparents took over his care, and Gregory got in touch with his ex, thinking that as much as he knew they loved him, they might not be up to the task.

No one was aware of his actions until she showed up after his funeral, arguing against their decision to put Lucas into a highly recommended medical teaching centre where they thought he could be given the attention and help he needed. It was a reasonable idea, since they weren’t aware of the core problem, but after spending a week in the place, clean though the halls were and kind though the staff were, Lucas is more than a little grateful to the woman he’s suddenly supposed to call Mum for taking him home with her. There was too much weight in the walls left behind by all the other visitors.

He’s been living in Crestwood Hollow for a few months now, adjusting to a different house and different city and different caregiver and not really sure what to think of it. The house is new, mostly quiet except for the work parties Marianne’s hosted. There’s a ravine he can go exploring in almost right across the street and the city’s got plenty of parks and all. Marianne’s not the most attentive, always busy with her work and not exactly mothering material. There’s a reason she let Gregory have him in the first place, but she is trying, if a bit haphazardly. And she adapted quickly enough to leaving him notes about important things instead of telling him and hoping he’d remember what she said. Lucas is fine with doing his own thing though, he was fine with her leaving him to settle in and didn’t mind the microwave dinners, or the days he had to fill up himself, but now she wants him to go back to school since he seems to be doing better, and he doesn’t know if he’ll make it through the first day, let alone the whole year.


▼ A B I L I T I E S / S K I L L S:

" Ha! There’s too much in the corners for awake and dreaming it’s not funny, so it’s all weird and still in my head. Okay? I don’t ask!"
//ABILITIES:
◼ HIDDEN |

//SKILLS:
◼ OUTDOORS KNOW-HOW | He’s been camping every summer since he was little and knows the general survival basics, along with paddling and sailing small craft and some orienteering.

◼ ATHLETE | He is an active kid, liked soccer and frisbee, and he still has some of his endurance and agility, even if sports are no longer his thing.

◼ BILINGUAL | He speaks English and French with some fluency, though he’s generally better at English.

◼ PATIENT | Lucas can and does get frustrated about things, but it takes quite a lot for him to finally blow a gasket, and he’s remarkably good at waiting or repeating himself as necessary to be heard or understood.

//LIMITATIONS:
◼ HIDDEN |

//WEAKNESSES:
◼ UNDERSTANDING | Being able to communicate with others clearly and coherently can be a constant struggle. He’s willing to work at it, but he won’t always have the luxury of time.

◼ STRAIGHTFORWARD | If he wants something, he’ll ask for it, or take it, if he doesn’t, he’ll make it obvious. If he doesn’t understand, he’ll say so. He is easily led and easy to fool. Occasionally, he’s excessively honest. Secrets are hard to keep around him, and he’s forgotten the value of someone sharing or keeping his mouth shut. So, his company isn’t always going to be appreciated.

◼ FOCUS | He can get easily overwhelmed and finds it occasionally hard to keep touch with reality. Any sudden influx of stimuli can leave him relatively unresponsive or unaware of his immediate surroundings for a short time. When he’s sick or tired, paying attention to everything is that much harder.


▼ N O T E S:

//SUPPORTING CAST:
▼ FAMILY
GREGORY BRAY | His father (deceased).

MARIANNE CROSS | His mother. She works long hours and isn’t home much. Lucas still isn’t sure what she actually does, though he’s pretty sure it pays well. She is the only one he has much contact with these days.

IDALEE BRAY | His grandmother.

ARTHUR BRAY | His grandfather.

▼ ALLIES
EVELYNE DAHL | The teaching assistant meant to keep him on track and focused during class. He’s hoping she’ll help enough to get by, and she does have a friendly smile. Also, good taste in music.

//STOMPING GROUNDS
◼ BLACKWOOD CREEK | A wooded area surrounding a small tributary with a few walking trails that runs just past his house. It leaves city limits in one direction and joins up with the pedestrian trails by the river in the other. He’s spent a good hour or three exploring it every day since he discovered it.

◼ MARIANNE’S HOUSE | A new house in a rich old neighbourhood (Burberry Heights), it looks a little out of place with its sleek modern lines, but it’s not too ostentatious, there’s just lots of giant windows and a bit of a garden out the back. Lucas mostly keeps to his room and sometimes tries out the videogames in the den since she bought the console in a misguided attempt to make the house more teenager friendly.

//PARAPHERNALIA
◼ STEGOSAURUS | He carries a little stuffed stegosaurus with him pretty much everywhere he goes. It was a gift from his dad.

◼ PRESCRIPTION BOTTLE | It’s empty, but he likes playing with it.

◼ BACKPACK | It comes with the usual school necessities: pencil and pens, notebooks, calculator, things… He also uses it to hold his snacks and when he goes exploring down the creek.
That, or you weren't waiting and I ran all around the place trying to find you... All I know is it seemed like the most appropriate expression of glee to use, after the dude one.... I don't question these things, neither should you. *sniffs haughtily*
Found you~
Duuuuuuuuude!
I want this plot. Hardcore. It seems like a fun mix of adventure and slice of life, with world building elements and a great reason to stick two strangers together and make them go off on shenanigans.

I'd be happy to write as the dude, and to help figuring out the traditions and reasons behind them and the different regions where the crystals reside. I've got ideas shaping themselves in my head, but they're kind of vague at the moment, mostly just about the dude's character and some about what might cause the lack of regional vestals. But it seems like a really great idea to play around with.
It was not long before Wai saw the heavy, hanging homes of her destination blotting out the glow of branches behind them. In the distance, hanging still and outlined with the faintest sheen of reflected light, they seemed like droplets of water caught at the end of a thread. Suspended mid-motion. A tranquil, familiar sight drawing her in.

She let it. Barely slowing her pace until she could make out the irregular undulations on the woven surface of the closest; bounding forward along the thicker trunks and bouncing off the smaller, leaping casually over the abyss and swinging across larger gaps as she trusted her earlier appraisal of the path here. Only when she saw a splash of brightness on one well wedged deadfall did she pause, dropping into a sudden crouch and slipping sideways into the light beneath the log, its rotten wood an easy source of nutrients for the mushrooms sprouting along its length and illuminating a tiny, disintegrating world. Half hidden by the glow on her skin and half by the slant of the log, Wai took her time unwinding the slender cord at her hip as she caught her breath.

Working by touch alone to pull the line free from her belt, she used her eyes for other things, searching out signs of activity, and watching a single spot of light climbing idly upwards as though through thin air. She knew they were on an anchor line, but it was invisible this far away, so the villager seemed to float, making funny motions mid-air that she could only compare to a lizard caught in a waterbowl. Except, of course, that the lizard would have been flailing madly or floating serenely and had much shorter legs. Still… She swallowed her amusement before it could escape as noise and finally felt the knot give way so she could bring the silk thread to the front, checking the knots attaching it to the carved bit of bone, just in case. The string’s length was a good few feet, but she kept it mostly coiled, even after ascertaining that everything was in order, simply dropping the bone and flicking her wrist so that it turned a rapid circle around her hand. Careful not to hit the wood around her, she spun it faster as its edges caught the air, making it thrum out a high note.

It reverberated in her bones and swept through the darkness all around. The climber paused in the distance when the sound reached them, though not for long, apparently uninterested in possible news.

Sooner than she’d expected, another answered her, twin-toned and warbling slightly. It was the official proof that she’d been heard and was welcome, also, that she wasn’t about to walk into disaster, though the calm climber she was looking at made that last mostly redundant. So, routine custom satisfied, she didn’t hesitate any longer, and with an accomplished twitch of her tail stood and set off again. Paying more attention to how she tucked the huewri back on her belt than where she set her feet, Wai was slower in her approach. There was no reason to rush, though she was wondering why the welcome had come so quickly. She was waiting to hear the reason, thinking that someone had to have had that huewri in hand before she’d called out, so she was not surprised when its voice came again, warbling dual notes lower this time, before she was even ten steps closer.

Head tilting, she went still to listen: one long, low groan followed by a breath of staccato whirring. That sound always made her think of hiccups…

It was a general summons. Not for her though, as she wasn’t a part of this village, and she weighed the idea of sleeping now against satisfying her curiousity before giving in. Her plan to slip in, find a bed, find a meal, and slip out wasn’t exactly inflexible. She had time to deviate since she wasn’t carrying any package or news to be delivered, and it was a Runner’s right to sit in on any, well, almost any, meeting they might like to, provided they knew how to keep their opinions to themselves. Wai had never had to worry about that, she was better at listening than talking anyway. So, as soon as her huewri was securely fastened again, up she went, strong fingers and toes catching at the slightest hold with practiced ease. She was no orn though, the effort was more of a graceless scramble than anything, though it did the trick.

The high platform, suspended on long poles stuck into the trees on every side, was her destination. It was a regular gathering point, and every village she’d ever visited had one, with a row or two of specialized huewru carefully coiled and hung from the rafters, neat and organized and ready for use beneath an arched roof of resh petals that kept off some of the damp. Now, seeing the small group of people who’d arrived before her, she stepped carefully across the supporting poles to duck under the overhang and tuck herself into an unoccupied corner while they awaited the stragglers.

Looking around, there were a few she recognized, though even fewer that she could name, and one pride straightened fellow next to the elder just finishing hanging up the huewri he’d used to call them here. She could see the nerves in his twitching tail, the tip unfortunately bright enough to attract attention. Young, she thought, though his shoulders were well filled out and he was likely taller than her. Chances were good that he had been alive longer than she had, though by how much, neither would be able to count. There was no sign of trouble or concern amongst the others, in fact, she caught a few surreptitious glances of amusement between the older generation and encouraging gestures from the younger. But that tail…

She felt a sympathetic buoyancy spreading in her stomach as she guessed at the reason for this gathering, remembering her own steps from apprentice to peer. The nervous delight of all her effort being acknowledged even as she worried that it wasn’t enough, that she’d never know enough. But, of course, she’d had a good mentor, and her fears had been unfounded. By the satisfied curl of the elder’s tail, as well as the happy squinting of rheumy eyes, Wai was certain he would be no different.

It started well. The elder, Peya, she thought his name was, raising his arms high to catch attention. It worked better than shouting, silhouetted as he was against the dark overhang of resh petals, and Wai was sure she wasn’t the only one to catch her breath in anticipation. The quiet came almost immediately, and into that expectant pause, Peya’s raspy voice was more than audible, asking them to see the man before them who had once been a child among them. It was a set speech, rote, routine, formal, though different exact words than she thought her own mentor had used. But it was the message that mattered most. She was happy to be a witness to his growth. Glad for his accomplishments.

She was impressed by the fine hammock he’d woven as proof of his skill and, apparently, as a gift of gratitude for the patience Peya had shown him. Ha, so, he was older! Though she supposed the missing forearm might have something to do with the required patience. It could not be easy having to find new methods to cope with a missing hand. He’d be a good weaver, regardless, it seemed, and she raised her voice in welcome along with the others, inviting him to step into the circle they made on the platform so they could give him their first long look adult to adult.

However, happy for this Iln though she was, he remained a stranger, and Wai would have been hard-pressed to deny that she was more pleased with the good timing that saw her arriving before a celebratory feast than with the chance to watch him receive his whiskers. And she sat impatiently through the rest of the ceremony as another woman carefully cut into Iln’s cheeks the same diagonal lines most of them wore. She couldn’t stop thinking about the meal sure to come.
<Snipped quote by Nemaisare>

How many throwing knives did the character have?


I think the count was 3 or 4 depending on whether I also had him using long knives... Which I forgot about until just now. Obviously, it was smart of me to make him lose stuff cuz I can't even remember what everything he should have had. Pffffft, well done me.

It doesn't matter so much anymore as this character was rejected for various reasons but the main problem seemed to be too many weapons :/ I was just looking to see if I had maybe over-stepped in terms of number of weapons on one person or whether the GM was just being picky with the characters :) I hold no judgement against said GM, it's just disappointing not to be able to use the character :(


One probable reason why too many weapons might be an issue, barring weight restrictions and cumbersome ones, could be that a lot of them require some training to use, maybe? Or well, use efficiently, if one doesn't go by the whole, stick em with the pointy end schtick. :P
I think I've had one character who, theoretically, should have owned 6 or 7 weapons all told. And in some iteration, he should have been able to lay claim to all of them at once when travelling or at his home, but I don't believe he ever actually had all of them at any point of my playing him. He'd always left some behind or lost a few or had one break. But he was a trained guard/potential assassin, plus lived in a place where being able to hunt was considered important, so he had a sword, a bow, some throwing knives and a garotte. So, unless you count the throwing knives individually, I guess it was only 4....
I think the best way to make an indepth character is to care about them and to care about continuity. One makes you interested in knowing the reasons behind their actions, learning what they fear or truly care about, in just knowing more about them in general, which is always helpful to round out your character. The other helps you build off the setting, the people who've affected them and helps ensure they fit the story. Both help keep you invested in the rp itself, too, which is always a bonus. ;)

Writing out their backstory without making it a slog to get through is a lot trickier... I have written 30 page histories that probably no one actually read in their entirety, and I have since decided that is far too much effort for everyone involved. It takes way too long. But a good rule of thumb is to know the key events that shaped your character into who they are today. You don't need to include all of them in your write-up, though if they might affect more than your character it's always a good idea to at least check with the GM before you cement them in. It's just good to have an outline that you can build on in the rp itself.

Rule of thumb, if you don't want to get detail intensive, is to include family details (parents alive or dead, siblings? Important pets) and formative years (grew up poor or rich, tough love, no love, all of the wonderful memories or not). And then the event, or short series of events, that led to their current situation.

Depending on how much you include, this can be two to three sentences or multiple paragraphs... But it should help cut down on extraneous info, if that's what you're trying for.
I cannot help but think that you've mastered the art of the interest check rather well, Mokley. Either that, or I just enjoy all the content snippets you share and am biased... >.> Y'know, either/or... I bet it's both though. :P

Not joining, still haven't got my butt back into gear, but just wanted to say looks awesome!
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet