“If I ever play chess, expect me to have a few more pawns up my sleeve.”
Name: Vicker West
Nickname: Blackjack
Age: 28
Male
Allegiance: Himself and his god, the Crawling Chaos.
Power: Vicker has the ability to control the minds of other Humans, one at a time. All he has to do is give his target an order when they are within fifteen feet of him. In doing so, they do as he says to the best of their ability. The effect wears off in an hour, or if Vicker controls another mind over the maximum 1.
Written Description: Standing at five feet nine inches, he’s a bit thin, but not unhealthy. He looks like an everyday guy: Black hair, brown eyes, white teeth. In a way, his relatability makes him a bit charming. Though if one looked closely enough, they would see a faint pinpoint of red resting within the depths of his pupil. Hardly anyone could ever tell that he was an acolyte of the Crawling Chaos. Not even him.
Personality: Despite his dangerous power and questionable allegiance, Vernon naturally likes to help people; It’s just in his nature to do so. But his generosity is often overshadowed by his inner prankster. His power is particularly dangerous, and useful for getting people to do what he wants. He likes to poke fun at things, and one of the main reasons as to why he gets into trouble is the fact that he is almost annoyingly sarcastic in times of stress. It’s just what he does to cope with the situation.
Backstory: Growing up in the slums of Independence city, Vicker survived by nearly every means necessary. One of the many lessons he learned during his desperate childhood was that the world was a game of predator and prey. The sharks and eagles would eat the lesser species, yes, but it was the intellect of Humans that allowed them to kill both. And so, he took every chance he could to improve his smarts and wits. On the streets, no one played by the rules. The world never played fair, and neither did he.
One day, on a looting run of an old abandoned house, Vicker discovered a strange, old book. It was titled: Necronomicon. He took the book back to his hideout, and planned to read it over the next week. Before he could begin however, he was visited by a strange, black-clad man who had a peculiar fascination with the strange tome. He demanded the book, and in return, he would grant him a power. Of course, as any sane person would, he gave the strange man the book. However, he was given no power. Or at least, at first. Exactly ten days later, after a week and a half of drinking stranger-than-usual-tasting water, Vicker discovered that he could control other people by simply giving them an order.
At first, he used this for his own gain, running wild and taking what he wanted. However, one day he had an epiphany. He had suffered so much in his life due to things out of his control. Really, life was the biggest bitch anyone would ever have to deal with. He knew kids who never had the chances and lucky breaks he did, and in turn suffered because of it. And so, he decided to steal and rob for the kids who had nothing. If he could just make their lives even just a bit easier, it would all be worth it.
Sometimes, he hears a voice: a small but commanding whisper in his ear, but he must do what it tells him to do regardless of his own feelings, or else.
Carried Weapons:
An ass of a gun. But it’s reliable, and won’t break easily. That’s all that matters.
Skills: Vicker is street smart. He knows the slums like the back of his hand, he’s friends with many powerful people (and enemies with many more), and he’ll bet that you can never, ever beat him at a game of poker. At least, that’s what he tells people.
He can fight, but fighting isn’t what he likes to do. He’s got a gun, and he uses it liberally. He might not be the best shot, but hey, a bad shot is better than no shot.
@hagroden Yeah! I tried not to lean too heavily on the lovecraftian aspect of his character and make the whole bit a background factor rather than a main attribute.
“If I ever play chess, expect me to have a few more pawns up my sleeve.”
Name: Vicker West
Nickname: Blackjack
Age: 28
Male
Allegiance: Himself and his god, the Crawling Chaos.
Power: Vicker has the ability to control the minds of other Humans, two at a time. All he has to do is give his target an order when they are within fifteen feet of him. In doing so, they do as he says to the best of their ability. The effect wears off in an hour, or if Vicker controls another mind over the maximum 2.
Written Description: Standing at five feet nine inches, he’s a bit thin, but not unhealthy. He looks like an everyday guy: Black hair, brown eyes, white teeth. In a way, his relatability makes him a bit charming. Though if one looked closely enough, they would see a faint pinpoint of red resting within the depths of his pupil. Hardly anyone could ever tell that he was an acolyte of the Crawling Chaos. Not even him.
Personality: Despite his dangerous power and questionable allegiance, Vernon naturally likes to help people; It’s just in his nature to do so. But his generosity is often overshadowed by his inner prankster. His power is particularly dangerous, and useful for getting people to do what he wants. He likes to poke fun at things, and one of the main reasons as to why he gets into trouble is the fact that he is almost annoyingly sarcastic in times of stress. It’s just what he does to cope with the situation.
Backstory: Growing up in the slums of Independence city, Vicker survived by nearly every means necessary. One of the many lessons he learned during his desperate childhood was that the world was a game of predator and prey. The sharks and eagles would eat the lesser species, yes, but it was the intellect of Humans that allowed them to kill both. And so, he took every chance he could to improve his smarts and wits. On the streets, no one played by the rules. The world never played fair, and neither did he.
One day, on a looting run of an old abandoned house, Vicker discovered a strange, old book. It was titled: Necronomicon. He took the book back to his hideout, and planned to read it over the next week. Before he could begin however, he was visited by a strange, black-clad man who had a peculiar fascination with the strange tome. He demanded the book, and in return, he would grant him a power. Of course, as any sane person would, he gave the strange man the book. However, he was given no power. Or at least, at first. Exactly ten days later, after a week and a half of drinking stranger-than-usual-tasting water, Vicker discovered that he could control other people by simply giving them an order.
At first, he used this for his own gain, running wild and taking what he wanted. However, one day he had an epiphany. He had suffered so much in his life due to things out of his control. Really, life was the biggest bitch anyone would ever have to deal with. He knew kids who never had the chances and lucky breaks he did, and in turn suffered because of it. And so, he decided to steal and rob for the kids who had nothing. If he could just make their lives even just a bit easier, it would all be worth it.
Sometimes, he hears a voice: a small but commanding whisper in his ear, but he must do what it tells him to do regardless of his own feelings, or else.
Carried Weapons:
An ass of a gun. But it’s reliable, and won’t break easily. That’s all that matters.
Skills: Vicker is street smart. He knows the slums like the back of his hand, he’s friends with many powerful people (and enemies with many more), and he’ll bet that you can never, ever beat him at a game of poker. At least, that’s what he tells people.
He can fight, but fighting isn’t what he likes to do. He’s got a gun, and he uses it liberally. He might not be the best shot, but hey, a bad shot is better than no shot.
As the massive crow formation disappeared from his view, a part of Malveil wished he could test out the effectiveness of his chess pieces. It had been a while since he’d had a good brawl, and he was itching for a fight. But then again, he was sure that Saria would give him the fight he wanted, and the Red Blade as well. The woman had said that Saria was last seen around the southwest shore.
If anything, I should get moving, Malveil thought.
His pawns formed up in front of him, and he moved along, traversing the sprawling streets and decaying stone structures. Ahead of him, around the corner of an alleyway, he heard what could only be the screams and howls of the damned, and they were getting closer by the second.
He knew not how many of the enemy were there, but he could prepare for the worst. Summoning his Knight, Rook, and Bishop, he set them to their positions. His Knight set up far in front of him, ready to charge. The Rook clambered up atop a pile of rubble, and his Bishop stood next to him, mace ready to crush the skulls of any who dared come. And he hoped they did.
“What use is a shield if I no longer have anything to protect? I would rather focus on killing with both hands."
Saga Berenike
Age: 41
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Personality: Disgruntled, paranoid, distant. These words, and many more similar terms describe Saga in a fairly accurate way. After deserting his former kingdom, he developed an intense distaste for people who abided by codes of honor, etiquette, and other such rules because he believes that people use these codes to mask their true feelings and manipulate others. Because of his mannerisms, or lack thereof, he usually is not looked upon favorably by others because of his brashness and blunt honesty. The only companion he trusts is the one inside his head.
Backstory: Saga hails from a faraway kingdom, in fact, so far away, that whether one goes north, south, east, or west, it makes no difference in the duration of the unhindered journey. This particular kingdom was known for its Knights; their honor, their chivalric values, and their loyal devotion to the cause. He was one of them: Diligent in his service, unyielding, and a stalwart soldier. However, Saga was betrayed by the very values he had treasured so much. He casted away his shield, no longer content with protecting himself. Instead, he now wields his sword with both hands. Fleeing to Silvershire to escape his former kingdom, he took his newfound safety to be a rare blessing. But then again, maybe it wasn't.
Equipment
His old plate armor, once shining with a proud gleam and polish, an armor once thought to be impenetrable by his old enemies, is now dirty, rusted, and worn with age. It holds well against most attacks, but it is still very far from what it used to be.
His sword, a sturdy blade as tall as himself, is the only piece of his equipment he still keeps in relatively good shape. Useful for beating back the opposition, it is just as you would expect from a sword, and often, the ordinary blade is all a soldier needs.
When he was a child, he was given a “mind companion”, a certain voice only he can hear. This voice has a personality of its own, and is meant to act as a “sixth sense”, telling him relative information in regards to his surroundings.
“What use is a shield if I no longer have anything to protect? I would rather focus on killing with both hands."
Saga Berenike
Age: 41
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Personality: Disgruntled, paranoid, distant. These words, and many more similar terms describe Saga in a fairly accurate way. After deserting his former kingdom, he developed an intense distaste for people who abided by codes of honor, etiquette, and other such rules because he believes that people use these codes to mask their true feelings and manipulate others. Because of his mannerisms, or lack thereof, he usually is not looked upon favorably by others because of his brashness and blunt honesty. The only companion he trusts is the one inside his head.
Backstory: Saga hails from a faraway kingdom, in fact, so far away, that whether one goes north, south, east, or west, it makes no difference in the duration of the unhindered journey. This particular kingdom was known for its Knights; their honor, their chivalric values, and their loyal devotion to the cause. He was one of them: Diligent in his service, unyielding, and a stalwart soldier. However, Saga was betrayed by the very values he had treasured so much. He casted away his shield, no longer content with protecting himself. Instead, he now wields his sword with both hands. Fleeing to Silvershire to escape his former kingdom, he took his newfound safety to be a rare blessing. But then again, maybe it wasn't.
Equipment
His old plate armor, once shining with a proud gleam and polish, an armor once thought to be impenetrable by his old enemies, is now dirty, rusted, and worn with age. It holds well against most attacks, but it is still very far from what it used to be.
His sword, a sturdy blade as tall as himself, is the only piece of his equipment he still keeps in relatively good shape. Useful for beating back the opposition, it is just as you would expect from a sword, and often, the ordinary blade is all a soldier needs.
When he was a child, he was given a “mind companion”, a certain voice only he can hear. This voice has a personality of its own, and is meant to act as a “sixth sense”, telling him relative information in regards to his surroundings.
