Username - TheObsidianWolf
Character Name - Ashasin Faulkner
Nickname - "Crimson Blaze" Ash
Age - 23
Occupation - Outlaw
Gender - Female
Height - 5' 9"
Weight - 145 lbs
Appearance -
With Burn scars up her hands and arms and a few along her torso.
Clothing - Black cowgirl hat, Blood red leather duster. Black button up shirt under a tight deep red corset. Well fitted black pants and knee high boots finished with shiny silver spurs.
Starting location - Buffalo Gulch
Skills - Fairly good shot with a pistol while nearly a dead shot with a rifle. Expert in anything that has to deal with explosives or fire.
Weaknesses - Hand to hand combat, while being able to hold her own (Barely) in a bar fight, anything more than a few drunken swings and shes done. Deathly afraid of spiders. She has a soft spot for children especially girls.(Not in a weird way either just that she wouldn't hurt them)
Weaponry - Colt 45, Spencer Rifle. Dagger (for dire circumstances)
Equipment - Various Items used to start fires, including a flask of kerosene. Water canteen, cash she keeps on person. A buckskin gelding named Tinder and all the tack accompanied.
Personality - Ash is acts very cocky, always coming back with smartass remarks and such. While in reality she's quite careful of what she does.... for the most part. She's an extreme flirt, hitting on anything with two legs is a norm for her. Though she hardly ever takes it much farther with anyone due to her trust issues and background.
Biography - I don't really know when it first started but as long as I can remember I have been fascinated with fire.
I'd steal any matchbooks from anywhere just to light the little sticks and watch them burn. It was entrancing, beautiful and dangerous. I loved it. I had hordes of the little books stashed away everywhere. Ma and Pa were always taking them away.
That's bout the only thing I remember bout my ma and pa though, I wasn't sure if that was 'cuz of what happened or just 'cuz i couldn't remember. I lost them when I was seven or eight.
They'd sent me off to school maybe hoping I'd stay out of trouble, Yeah right, trouble always seems to find me in the worst of places. After the boring lectures and such I'd snitched another book of matches from my teacher and gone hiding in the woods.
Lighting one at a time I'd watched them burn away slowly, almost in a trance of sorts. When suddenly I heard the bells in town ringing and shouts of fire. But all my little sticks where gone. Being me and of course the shouts telling me my favorite things was out and about set me instantly curious.
Stowing away my little book of fascination for later I ran back into town to see what all the commotion was about. When people saw me the stepped out of the way and turned whispering to one another. What the hell was going on. Then I saw it, the smoldering remnants of my home and even the charred remains of my parents reaching for the door.
No one knew how it started and honestly I don't think much effort was put into it. My family wasn't of much prominence in town but the rumors flew.
Most thought it had been me, though I tried telling everyone I hadn't done it, no one believed me. The whispers when on for months 'Kilt her family she did, over a little book of matches. Can you even imagine! Little fire demon she devil is what she is!' And so on and so forth. It got so bad that none of the other children were allowed to play with me.
Finally the town did something about it, they sent me away to live with my uncle, my pa's brother. I disgusting excuse for a man too deep in his drink and a horrid fondness for little girls. At first I struggled with him, but I was only seven and what can a seven year old do against a full grown man? I learned to zone out when he came for me plotting my revenge while he ruined my body.
I planned it on the fifth anniversary of my parents death, I was twelve. Too old for him now but I'd make him pay anyway. I'd started thieving kerosene months before, taking it here and there from the locals and hiding it away. This night the old man lay passed out on the floor to drunk to even wake up as I poured bottle after bottle around the house and on his person. Then I lit one of my beautiful little matches and laid waste to another home. Thinking about that moment now makes me smile as I can hear his screams as he burned alive. After that the incidents kept happening getting bigger and worse as I learned how my favorite toy worked. It was beautiful and I loved every minute of it.
Soon they were sending marshals after me, so I picked up a gun and learned to use it with deadly efficiency, though I still preferred my little book of friends. I even adopted a look. A long crimson red coat. Thus my 'nickname' as they call it. "Crimson Blaze" I don't use it myself. I prefer Ash.