Stekkmen

Red Skies

Okay, there.

Red Skies

Your character

Name: Charles Harmond
Aliases: Charlie
Age: 31
Gender: M
Ethnicity/Nationality: White
Physical Appearance: Standing at 6 feet, weighing 237 pounds, a husky build and hair that falls to the base of his neck, Charles isn't quite defined as overweight by most people. His face is a little rounded, his eyesbrows are large but not bushy. His lips are difficult to make out from the rest of his face, being similar in color. Despite his appearence, Charlie is athletic, and can throw his weight around with some precision.
He commonly wears a green-blue polo shirt, tie loosely hanging around his neck. His pants are light gray, sometimes spotted by small drops of coffee. Black-laced shoes that haven't been polished in a while, his pants fall around his ankles.

Class: Your character is an ace, divergent or a normal human? He is a normal human.
Red Sky Traits: His left eye twitches more than normal.

Weaknesses, Drawbacks and Limitations: He hasn't the greatest stamina in the world, he won't be sprinting any marathons any time soon. He's also a little clumsy when it comes to precise workings involving his fingers that he long ago tried to remedy by taking typing lessons.

Skills and Talents: He can rally people, a trait he didn't realize until recently. He was often able to get people to do what he wanted by convincing them that it was they wanted, too. He's also surprisingly athletic, but again, not a lot of stamina.

Psychological Profile:

a.k.a. personality. The character's motivations, goals and outlook on life, including any psychological trauma they've endured.

Charles comes off to most people as unassuming, a standard man in a standard world, who's tombstone with describe his life with a simple hyphen. To this extent, his quite relatable to most people he meets, and is able to make friends often. In his childhood, however, his family were not the most tolerant people in the world. They often hurled insult on people of different color on the screen of their TV and got into trouble multiple times over their attitudes. His parents verbally abused him, his mother and father passed down their prejudice to him, but Charlie vowed to never judge another man in this way. Unfortunately for him, this behavior has burrowed itself into his pysche, and is waiting to be released, more so than he realizes. There is hate in his soul that has no where to go and he doesn't know it.
History/Bio: His grew up in Maine, and in his early childhood, he wasn't very popular in his schools, and was often bullied. However, he realized his silver-tongue and made his enemies into aquantences, made them leave him alone by convincing them it was what they wanted to do. He grew out of school and went into a standard office job, forgetting his talent for many years, until realizing it recently by concinving his bos to give him a promotion by accident, somehow.

Relationships: He has several friends that trust his opinion. He currently has no contact with his parents.

In a nutshell: Define your character in a sentence. A smooth-talking average joe with a secret, directionless hate in his core.
Other: He makes model airplanes. (OOC here, I myself am not exactly a fantastic speaker, so what comes out of his mouth may not actually be persuasive, but use your imagination.)

• Anything that was not included above.
• This includes things like hobbies, interests, quotes and possession.
• Not mandatory.

Red Skies

My Hider

removed

Brawl in town

Aw. We can't have a three-way battle? Okay.

Brawl in town

So, am I allowed to just, jump on in here?

Brawl in town

Charles Harmond is a bombastic, fight loving adventurer. who has spent his entire thirty-two years of his life throwing punches and laughing his danger loving laugh. He usually wears a full-face helmet with a small slit for his eyes, a permanent sly-smile painted onto where his mouth would be.

Most of his skin is infact, covered by armor, leather, chain, gauntlets and braces, to create a brown-and-grey color scheme. He's never still for long. His weapons are his leather-gauntlets on his hands, and, if he needs it, a shortsword on his belt, although he prefers not to unsheath it.

Hello again!

I was here two years ago, and totally forgot about it until now. But I'm back, and I'm gonna have my spot in the place-light.

In all seriousness, I'm pretty excited to be back, but I'm a little intimidated, as I was two years ago. A majority of my roleplaying fun has taken place in smaller sub-sections of forums not focused on it. I'm particularly curious about that "Arena" thing. Is that open to everyone, or do you have to have a sort of reputation or cool-kidness to be allowed in?

Maybe I should just take a look around first.
Hm.

That sounds like a good idea.

Heya everyone!

hello

Destroy the Godmodder

The little man skids along the ground. The rest of the ghouls still push forward, and the ghoul that was pushed down with the Little man gets up and attacks. It forms some what of a conga line of imminent casualties.

Dark Souls: The Shitty ISRP

A hollow shambles through the halls. He had long forgotten his name, long forgotten his last life. He is just a body now. His shackles still dragged by his feet. His skin looks is like rugged leather, spotted and brown. It looks too tight for his skeleton, as if it were stretched far too thin. His eyes were glazed over orbs and looked as if they were threatening to fall out at any minute.

He went around in circles in his cell block all day long. All week, all month, all year. Every single time the other hollows cried out to him from their cells. Their ragged, bony hands stretched forth from the bars. Every time he came around, without fail. The hollow paced, his head dropped and eyes scanning the cold cobble stone.

A man in armor came around. His skin was spotted and brown too, but yet his eyes were aflame with life and character. He saw the hollow pass him by. With one swift movement his sword separated head from body went limp to the floor. The man thought it as a mercy killing. He didn't bother thrusting his sword through cell bar after cell bar to kill the "person" on the other side. His sword had to be spared. It was reaching it's end and his only replacement was some hollow's sword he stole.

No, he had much better things to do. He wasn't quite sure what. Something would happen. If he just kept walking surely something would happen.
And so he did.