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Character Name: Michael (- Doesn’t use a Surname-)
Name:
Age: 23
Eye Color: blue-green
Hair Color: Black
Breed: Human (natural mage)
Appearance:Striking blue-green eyes look out from behind black wire frame glasses. Unkempt shaggy black hair denotes a few years of unimpeded growth. An average frame shows evidence of some exercise and what seems a lifetime of scars. The whole thing gives the appearance of an introverted nerd turned survivalist. While not bulky, corded muscles run beneath the spider web of scarring. Here and there are the distinctive patterns of healed bullet wounds. Often the face breaks into a smile at jokes or friendly comments, but the smile rarely reaches the eyes. For anyone who bothers to look close enough, a deep sadness remains buried beneath the friendly exterior. He has what at first glance appear to be a full body tattoo. Upon inspection, it is an assortment of scars, in a twisting knotted pattern.
Personality: While a bit of an introvert, Michael is an excellent listener. He is quick to crack a smile and slow to provoke. While he is slow to anger once awakened Michael is like an unstoppable flood. He takes a while to start but once going is extremely hard to stop. Once his momentum has played out however, he is done and no remaining anger is left under the surface.
Powers: Dexterous and powerful control of water and water based substances. Can control between 3,000 and 9,000 gallons (large and small tanker trucks respectively) depending on the phase of the moon. On a new moon his powers are at there weakest, on a particularly full moon he can control a small lake. His powers are torrential. If he accesses more than a few gallons of control he loses himself within the power, as a result he does little more than minor tricks and simple techniques to aid him in fighting and healing.
Weapons: He carries a small canteen of leather with maybe a half gallon of pure water in it. He has three pocketknives and a bowie knife with a 13” x 2 3/4” blade. It has a simple wooden handle and a metal crossguard.
Element: Water
History: He was adopted at a young age and has never met his biological mother or father. He grew up in a small rural farming community in Iowa. He considers his adopted mother and father to be his true parents as they were the ones who raised him. At seventeen he was having some trouble with one of the players on the local football team, a boy name Chris. Michael put up with the abuse for most of his junior and senior year. By graduation time, he was smoldering under the surface. A raging anger was surging inside of him just beneath the surface. When it was Michaels turn to receive his diploma disaster struck. The jocks had rigged up a dead doe, rotting and obviously roadkill, to drop on Michael. When it fell it knocked Michael off of his feet and broke open. Covered in head to toe with rotting offal, maggots and innards from the carcass of the doe Michael lost control completely, retreating deep inside of himself. When he woke up, the auditorium was flooded, and water pipes were gaping through the walls. Michael was the only dry thing in the auditorium. When he got outside he noticed two things. First, lake out side the school was empty and everything in sight was wet, and Second, what seemed like the entire town was coming towards him. The townspeople were armed to the teeth with shotguns, rifles, and whatever other deadly weapons they could find. Michael noticed that his parents were among those at the front. His “father” was the first to fire a shot. The bullet caught poor Michael in his left shoulder. He did the only sensible thing he could think of. Michael ran. He ran until he could run no more.
Michael spent a couple of years in a state park. He avoided all human contact and learned to control his abilities better. He eventually heard of the Little Silver Clinic from a werewolf that used the park on full moons. He decided to head there. With some help from the werewolf, he got some new clothing, and a couple of tools to make his way there.
Rp Sample: Michael took a deep breath when he reached the door. It didn’t look like much, but the sign did say the Little Silver Clinic.
Reaching out as if he were afraid it would disappear before his eyes, Michael tentatively knocked on the door. A kind looking nurse answered the door.
“Can I help you?” she asked him.
“I’m looking for refuge,” Michael answered, “I heard this was a safe place.”
The nurse looked around, checking for others, “Come with me around back,” she said, “I’ll take you to the safehouse.”
When Michael walked through the doors, and checked in his knives, he noticed the sign denoting the open positions.
“Who do I talk to about the bartending job?” he asked the nurse.
The nurse pointed over to the bar and told him, “You want to talk to Fayth, over there”
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