Post by Odin Reeves on Apr 8, 2007 16:55:47 GMT -5
Name: Odin Reeves
Race: Human
Class: Reaper
Age: Undetermined.
Height: 5’9
Weight: 117lbs
Hair: Most of his hair is black in color, parted to the sides of his face and style down. In the front it hangs down around his collarbone when wet, otherwise it’s sticking out at a downward 45-degree angle. In the back it’s longer, flowing down to a point and reaching down just past his shoulder blades. Unlike the rest of his hair, his bangs are a complete white color, and thick in stature.
Eyes: Deep red eyes, surrounded with black eye lids.
Sex: Male
Build: Slender, nearly the point of being on the verge of sickness. It’s amazing to see muscle on his frame, but it is in fact there. His biceps are well toned, and dense, mostly showing off when he casually bends his arm. His torso is slender all the way around. His hips are nearly as slender as torso, his legs being just as toned and dense as his arms.
Appearance: Around his neck is a permanently casted bronze necklace, which rests atop his collarbone and moves up until just under his Adams apple. Hanging from the bronze casting is a dehydrated human hand, attached by thick twine. Around his shoulders, and draping down his back, is a piece of red cloth that looks as though it’s been dyed in blood. It’s tattered near the ends and holds a small bronze piece of armor on his right shoulder.
On his left wrist is a piece of gold that’s been wrapped around multiple times. On his right hand is a brown glove, crafted of cloth and leather. On his forehead is a barely noticeable band that has a dark colored gemstone implanted in it.
For clothing on the lower half of his body he wears pants, similar in color to that of his gloves. It’s made out of a simple cloth, like his gloves, but there is no leather involved in the main pair of slacks. Around his waist are two different belts. The first is higher up without the slack to hang. It has small pieces of gold engraved into it. The second hangs much lower in the front as it’s brought down by a leather pad with markings depicting a key memory from his past. Red beads are pressed around this belt.
Wearing brown leather sandals he completely his ensemble, but not his appear. His skin is a pasty white that seems to have a coating of wax on it since it shines when under the right light. However, his right arm has no skin to speak of, and is just an assortment of muscle and tissue.
Personality: He rarely speaks, rarely finds himself in social gatherings, and barely initiates eye contact with another. You could say he was a loner, but that’s only a vague description of how cold and unfamiliar he is.
Home Country: Shussei
History: Odin Reeves, the pale skin human who’s bones would surely stick through his skin should both the limited about of muscle and flesh be as dense as possible. What can be said about this sickly being? Well, first off he was born in the Country of Maia, and was the son of a farmer believe it or not. He grew up without the slightest interest in outside advances in technology, or in the mystic arts from lands unknown. Basically, he was happy living the simple life of a farmer. Work for the duration of the sunlight in the field, gathering crops with his handy scythe, then as sunlight turned into a canvas of stars he’d move inside, tending to his other chores.
His life went on like this until his late teens. He often remembers the number 18 appearing in his memory, and so believes that this is the age his simple life ended. He was returning home from tending to the crops, his main tool propped up on his right shoulder, when he heard the clash of anger filled shouts spewing back and forth. He looked for the source and saw his father, whom had left 30 minutes before he had, through the kitchen window. His arms were failing as spit flew from his tongue with every curse. Frightened of the situation Odin wanted to stay away, let it be dealt with by his father, but curiosity drove him forward, and through the front door and into the kitchen. He had problems maneuvering through the house as he moved the scythe from one position to another, careful not to cut up the walls. When he entered the kitchen he saw his fathers eyes go wide. Was he intruding on a private matter? This thought went through his mind as he stared at the back of the cloaked figure, which turned his head just enough to peer back at the boy.
What Odin saw made him more terrified then he’s ever been. It felt like his soul had been cast aflame, just by looking at those hollow eyes. Petrified and unable to move Odin stood there as the figure darted forward, one hand shooting through the chest of his father, spewing out the back with blood cascading down his arm. His father’s head hung over the shoulder of his assailant, the life drained from his eyes. The petrified feeling from before left Odin as he rushed forward swinging his scythe in a wide arc. He saw it dig into the rib cage of his fathers murderer, but it felt like it cut through with only the wind resisting it’s presence. A moment later the figure’s body crumbled to the ground in a large pile of dust, no longer a composite of human origins.
Dropping his scythe Odin reached into the pile of ash with his right hand. It felt cold to the touch, yet stung his fingers as though the flame of a candle was dancing underneath his tip. He tried to retract his arm, the natural instinct when feeling pain, but instead he was pulled forward until the entire limb – from hand to shoulder – was pulled into the ash. Despite the immense pain he never gave up, and finally pulled his arm free only to find that all the skin on his arm had been completely removed. This sight was horrifying, and with the combination of pain Odin fainted.
He next awoke several days later, covered in a pool of liquids with his arm still without flesh. Luckily the pain had disappeared, and for some reason he was able to completely move the limb without any disturbances. As he stood he tried to remember what had happened, or where he was, but nothing came back. Instead of fighting the pains of remembrance he looked at himself and realized he needed to take a shower.
45 minutes later he emerged clean. Trying himself off he paid little attention to his body up until the point when he looked in the mirror. He was no longer a nice tanned complexion, but lacked done altogether. He was pale, his eyes completely bloodshot. In awe and shock he stumbled away from the bathroom, headed back into the kitchen and picked up the one thing he knew. As he left the house the metallic tool began to singe his palm, and as he looked down he saw the compound of his tool change into what it is today.
Since then he’s been wondering around, spending most of time in Northern Umberland, no purpose known, just developing and understanding what has become of him.
Weapon of Choice: Mr. Slashy Slash. What could be considered an oversized, oddly form farm tool is really a Reapers choice of weapon, a giant scythe. The blade has mysterious engravings running along both sides, straight down the middle, that glow with an eerie red whenever he begins to perform one of his magical abilities. The shaft is made out of fragments of diamond mixed in with a dense marble compound, making it very durable. At the butt of the shaft is a golden stub, which matches the gold used the attach the blade to it’s handle.
Magic: The true background of his magic is unknown, as it doesn’t fit with any of the preexisting elements. It glows red like fire, but freezes the skin with an odd burning sensation. It sheers flesh, muscle, and tissue alike while slowing the joints. Truly it seems to be a combination of both fire and ice, but such a possibility is null and void due to the fact that they are complete opposites.
Fighting Style: Unorthodox. Moving about with agility Reaper often dodges moves before using any combination of moves to remove the threat from play. It could be magic if needing to strike from afar, or his scythe where or not they’re in close or not. If he’s has the opportunity he’ll throw a kick or two, usually as a pushing measure after an attack with his scythe.
Strengths: Fast, more then just abnormally. Agile, able to bend like a contortionist. Has no quarrel with being hit, slashed, stabbed or shot. This is because he has no blood, or other bodily fluids, and rarely feels pain.
Weaknesses: Physical strength is just one of the things he lacks, and it’s more then apparent by his frame. He also lacks a long endurance for battles, so he usually ends up ending them not to long after starting. Finally, with feeling little-to-no pain he has a hard time telling with something is useless, and has walked around for 3 months with a broken arm before treating it.
Race: Human
Class: Reaper
Age: Undetermined.
Height: 5’9
Weight: 117lbs
Hair: Most of his hair is black in color, parted to the sides of his face and style down. In the front it hangs down around his collarbone when wet, otherwise it’s sticking out at a downward 45-degree angle. In the back it’s longer, flowing down to a point and reaching down just past his shoulder blades. Unlike the rest of his hair, his bangs are a complete white color, and thick in stature.
Eyes: Deep red eyes, surrounded with black eye lids.
Sex: Male
Build: Slender, nearly the point of being on the verge of sickness. It’s amazing to see muscle on his frame, but it is in fact there. His biceps are well toned, and dense, mostly showing off when he casually bends his arm. His torso is slender all the way around. His hips are nearly as slender as torso, his legs being just as toned and dense as his arms.
Appearance: Around his neck is a permanently casted bronze necklace, which rests atop his collarbone and moves up until just under his Adams apple. Hanging from the bronze casting is a dehydrated human hand, attached by thick twine. Around his shoulders, and draping down his back, is a piece of red cloth that looks as though it’s been dyed in blood. It’s tattered near the ends and holds a small bronze piece of armor on his right shoulder.
On his left wrist is a piece of gold that’s been wrapped around multiple times. On his right hand is a brown glove, crafted of cloth and leather. On his forehead is a barely noticeable band that has a dark colored gemstone implanted in it.
For clothing on the lower half of his body he wears pants, similar in color to that of his gloves. It’s made out of a simple cloth, like his gloves, but there is no leather involved in the main pair of slacks. Around his waist are two different belts. The first is higher up without the slack to hang. It has small pieces of gold engraved into it. The second hangs much lower in the front as it’s brought down by a leather pad with markings depicting a key memory from his past. Red beads are pressed around this belt.
Wearing brown leather sandals he completely his ensemble, but not his appear. His skin is a pasty white that seems to have a coating of wax on it since it shines when under the right light. However, his right arm has no skin to speak of, and is just an assortment of muscle and tissue.
Personality: He rarely speaks, rarely finds himself in social gatherings, and barely initiates eye contact with another. You could say he was a loner, but that’s only a vague description of how cold and unfamiliar he is.
Home Country: Shussei
History: Odin Reeves, the pale skin human who’s bones would surely stick through his skin should both the limited about of muscle and flesh be as dense as possible. What can be said about this sickly being? Well, first off he was born in the Country of Maia, and was the son of a farmer believe it or not. He grew up without the slightest interest in outside advances in technology, or in the mystic arts from lands unknown. Basically, he was happy living the simple life of a farmer. Work for the duration of the sunlight in the field, gathering crops with his handy scythe, then as sunlight turned into a canvas of stars he’d move inside, tending to his other chores.
His life went on like this until his late teens. He often remembers the number 18 appearing in his memory, and so believes that this is the age his simple life ended. He was returning home from tending to the crops, his main tool propped up on his right shoulder, when he heard the clash of anger filled shouts spewing back and forth. He looked for the source and saw his father, whom had left 30 minutes before he had, through the kitchen window. His arms were failing as spit flew from his tongue with every curse. Frightened of the situation Odin wanted to stay away, let it be dealt with by his father, but curiosity drove him forward, and through the front door and into the kitchen. He had problems maneuvering through the house as he moved the scythe from one position to another, careful not to cut up the walls. When he entered the kitchen he saw his fathers eyes go wide. Was he intruding on a private matter? This thought went through his mind as he stared at the back of the cloaked figure, which turned his head just enough to peer back at the boy.
What Odin saw made him more terrified then he’s ever been. It felt like his soul had been cast aflame, just by looking at those hollow eyes. Petrified and unable to move Odin stood there as the figure darted forward, one hand shooting through the chest of his father, spewing out the back with blood cascading down his arm. His father’s head hung over the shoulder of his assailant, the life drained from his eyes. The petrified feeling from before left Odin as he rushed forward swinging his scythe in a wide arc. He saw it dig into the rib cage of his fathers murderer, but it felt like it cut through with only the wind resisting it’s presence. A moment later the figure’s body crumbled to the ground in a large pile of dust, no longer a composite of human origins.
Dropping his scythe Odin reached into the pile of ash with his right hand. It felt cold to the touch, yet stung his fingers as though the flame of a candle was dancing underneath his tip. He tried to retract his arm, the natural instinct when feeling pain, but instead he was pulled forward until the entire limb – from hand to shoulder – was pulled into the ash. Despite the immense pain he never gave up, and finally pulled his arm free only to find that all the skin on his arm had been completely removed. This sight was horrifying, and with the combination of pain Odin fainted.
He next awoke several days later, covered in a pool of liquids with his arm still without flesh. Luckily the pain had disappeared, and for some reason he was able to completely move the limb without any disturbances. As he stood he tried to remember what had happened, or where he was, but nothing came back. Instead of fighting the pains of remembrance he looked at himself and realized he needed to take a shower.
45 minutes later he emerged clean. Trying himself off he paid little attention to his body up until the point when he looked in the mirror. He was no longer a nice tanned complexion, but lacked done altogether. He was pale, his eyes completely bloodshot. In awe and shock he stumbled away from the bathroom, headed back into the kitchen and picked up the one thing he knew. As he left the house the metallic tool began to singe his palm, and as he looked down he saw the compound of his tool change into what it is today.
Since then he’s been wondering around, spending most of time in Northern Umberland, no purpose known, just developing and understanding what has become of him.
Weapon of Choice: Mr. Slashy Slash. What could be considered an oversized, oddly form farm tool is really a Reapers choice of weapon, a giant scythe. The blade has mysterious engravings running along both sides, straight down the middle, that glow with an eerie red whenever he begins to perform one of his magical abilities. The shaft is made out of fragments of diamond mixed in with a dense marble compound, making it very durable. At the butt of the shaft is a golden stub, which matches the gold used the attach the blade to it’s handle.
Magic: The true background of his magic is unknown, as it doesn’t fit with any of the preexisting elements. It glows red like fire, but freezes the skin with an odd burning sensation. It sheers flesh, muscle, and tissue alike while slowing the joints. Truly it seems to be a combination of both fire and ice, but such a possibility is null and void due to the fact that they are complete opposites.
Fighting Style: Unorthodox. Moving about with agility Reaper often dodges moves before using any combination of moves to remove the threat from play. It could be magic if needing to strike from afar, or his scythe where or not they’re in close or not. If he’s has the opportunity he’ll throw a kick or two, usually as a pushing measure after an attack with his scythe.
Strengths: Fast, more then just abnormally. Agile, able to bend like a contortionist. Has no quarrel with being hit, slashed, stabbed or shot. This is because he has no blood, or other bodily fluids, and rarely feels pain.
Weaknesses: Physical strength is just one of the things he lacks, and it’s more then apparent by his frame. He also lacks a long endurance for battles, so he usually ends up ending them not to long after starting. Finally, with feeling little-to-no pain he has a hard time telling with something is useless, and has walked around for 3 months with a broken arm before treating it.
