[Characters] The Dreamers

[FrozenTear]

Please paste your character bios and link your character sheets here.

[Kellos]

Name: Aeternus (Formerly: Jacob Seld)
Gender: Male
Class: Summoner
Race: Human
Deities: Christian, although he had high doubts about it until he was reborn
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: Aeternus appears much like he did in life, an a white male of average build. However, his reincarnation did change several physical traits, mainly to reflect the divine nature of his powers. First, while before he had messy brown hair, he now has orderly blonde hair. His eyes also changed from a darkish-red to a bright-blue. He also bears a rune resembling a pair of angel wings on the back of his right hand. The same rune appears on his forehead whenever he has summoned Lumina, his Eidolon. He normally wears a elegant white robe, trimmed with gold, almost appearing like a priest or pope.
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Lumina takes on the appearance of an angel, her most striking feature being that she can sprout white feathery wings at will. Aside from that, Lumina has an appearance that would make it seem as if she were Aeternus's sister. She has long flowing blonde hair, and has the same bright blue eyes as Aeternus. She also bears the angel wing runes on Aeternus's right hand on her own left hand. She normally wears a simple white dress in contrast to Aeternus's elegant robes. She also carries around a greatsword adorned with mystic runes of gold.
Background: Jacob was infamous among his peers for his horrible luck. He had to drop out of law school to tend to his sick mother, his father became a cripple in a car wreck, he went through two divorces with cheating wives, and he got fired while the economy was crashing down into rock bottom. Those were among the many things that led Jacob to his doubts about God, who had apparently cursed him with this horrible life.
RP Sample:

 

As Jacob drove home from yet another job interview his mind mulled over the recent misfortune that his horrible luck has brought him. He tried to pick up a girl he met at the bar, but then met the wrong end of her boyfriend's fist. He was then forced to pay for the damages to the bar that resulted from the ensuing bar fight. Then, as he left the police station after his interrogation, he received a call saying that he did not make the job he was applying for, again.

"What did I ever do to deserve this?"

That and similar thoughts plagued his mind recently as his faith in God, and life in general, declined. And thus, he only just barely noticed a kid running out onto the street. With no time to stop the car, Jacob quickly turned to avoid hitting the little kid...and crashed right into a lamppost.

Darkness quickly overtook Jacob's senses.

[QuilledNinja]

Name: Quinn Embers
Gender: Female
Class: Oracle (Ancestors)
Race: Human
Deities: Quinn believes in an all-powerful entity in the universe but does not believe that one has to go to a church for that entity to take attendance. Instead follows the ideologies of helping others and doing good within one’s own community.
Alignment: Neutral Good

Appearance:

Brilliant red hair pulled into a braid at her back holds her hair out of her face save for a section in front of her ears on either side that hangs down to her chest frames a fair skinned face and ice blue eyes above a small nose and expressive lips capable of communicating much without words. Standing at a decent 5’8” Quinn is not the largest of people and even the scale mail she wears does little to bulk up her frame. The scale is polished to a silver shine and the connecting leather and straps are dyed scarlet. Her underclothes are all done up in charcoal sewn with red thread.

 

Background:

Quinn’s life could easily be summed up as never being what anyone wanted or was looking for. His mother always wanted a daughter but after Quinn was born the doctor’s told her she would never have another baby. She never recovered from that and blamed Quinn for the loss. His father loved telling stories about long dead family members and the great events they were a part of during their lives. Being a pilot kept his father away most of the time and the stories were the one thing he made time in his schedule to tell Quinn about. Quinn loved those stories but as he grew learned that they were his father’s way of expecting great things from him, expectations he could never live up to.

At school he was an outcast, not athletic enough to make any of the sports teams and not smart enough to be one of the brains. He couldn’t find a niche with any of the fringe groups and retreated to his books and his daydreams about a better place where he could be someone important and had the abilities he seemed to lack in this life. He found that regardless of what the stories his father told of his ancestors it left Quinn with a want to read about history and legends of the past.

Quinn tried to get into a good college or university but his grades kept him out of anything but community college and resigned to his fate took some courses there while getting a job working at a nearby Denny’s. By this time his mother had kicked him out and his father disappointed by what his son had become broke off all contact. Thus did Quinn find himself alone living out of a small apartment near the train station desperately trying to eke out a life for himself.

 

RP Sample:

Quinn stepped in something that squished wetly beneath his sneaker. He sighed and looked down to the half-eaten and discarded remnants of a grand slam meal. They couldn’t just leave it on the plate… Kneeling down he began the process of extracting the food from the floor. Cleaning tables was not what he had envisioned for his life and no matter how many days went by he still felt more like a mindless drone or slave than a real person for doing it. Problem was, there wasn’t anything else better out there for him.

Someone bumped hard into his backside and pushed Quinn off balance and right into the mess he was trying to clean up. Ketchup and other bits of food clung to his work shirt as he pulled himself back to his feet to at least look at his abuser. He’d learned long ago that no one was going to stand up for him and if he did then he might as well find another job. But he still wanted to see who it was so in his imagination he could at least dole out some form of justice or vengeance.

His eyes widened in surprise as he noted the shotgun hanging from a strap on the man’s back. In his right hand, concealed by the long sleeve of his trench coat the man held a large caliber pistol. Fear stuck Quinn to his spot and froze his voice. Even in St. Louis no one carried around that kind of fire power without meaning to use it. Come on Quinn, run! Do something! Yell a warning! But his body would not act on his thoughts and so he stared as the man climbed onto a table.

The murmur of the customers began to die off as people took note of the stranger. The man in the trench coat did not wait for the noise to disappear. You are all corrupt! Living off the backs of the migrant workers that you would rather deport than accept with open arms. You call yourself a cultured nation and yet you wage war against a people you have never met! He pulled back on the slide on the pistol and the screaming began. Quinn was not sure if anyone beyond himself heard what the gunman said next but it was the last thing anyone said that was not cries of panic. May whatever gods you believe in have mercy upon you for I have none.

The first shot rang out and Quinn felt himself freed from the prison of fear. Adrenaline surged through him and he glanced at the exit. He could make it out of here, he could survive and hesitated. But why? What do you have to live for? Better to do something now and maybe save a life than be stepped on like a discarded meal. Be a hero if for just one small moment of your life.

So Quinn moved, not to the exit and a chance at life and freedom but towards the angry man on the table. He grabbed the man around the knees from behind and pulled with all the strength he could muster. Off balance both of them crashed to the ground the table falling with them and crushing Quinn’s ankle. He yelled in pain but did not let go even as the pistol slammed into his head. Quinn saw stars through a haze of growing darkness and tried to hold on tighter.

You are a fool. The gunman glared at Quinn. And you will die like one too. Fool or not Quinn knew that at least one more person would make it out alive before the gunman got back to his feet and that made him smile. For the first time in his life he felt good about what he had done. Even as the pain of the bullets ripped through his body Quinn never stopped smiling.

[Muggins]

[CHARACTER SHEET]

Application Name: Linet Dusty. Gender: Female. Class: Ninja. Race: Human. Deities: Don't need 'em. Alignment: Chaotic Neutral. Role: Token non-good teammate. Theme: Lastendconductor. Appearance: Linet didn't care about how she looked like in her old life, and she doesn't care to recall it now. Short of stature, her baggy woolen coat conceals most of her body - in fact, she doesn't show much skin beyond her face or hands. Her hair is rugged and cut short, as though the spirits lacked a hairdresser to help create her new form, and her eyes have taken a shade of brilliant violet. Background:   Linet was born by the name of Caroline, and lived a pleasant life alongside her family and a handful of friends. Fundamentally lazy, she did little in her early years and childhood; it wasn't that she lacked enthusiasm, but that she had little energy to put towards anything. At school, she was eventually pulled into the pursuit of art and music by her friends, and although she was talented she cared more for those she met than she did work. Over her teenage years, Caroline enjoyed the company of her friends and came to appreciate the occasional chance to flaunt her musical talent. She began to pursue the attention of others because she liked it, and because she could. Time passed, and the school music group she'd found herself in became a true band; her artistry, while not dismissed entirely, was pushed aside to make room for guitars and alcohol. Music became her life, and her friends became family. Eventually, they moved to the city for gigs, fame and fortune. The city, however, had other plans. A midnight joyride led to half the band kicking the bucket, and the rest the band fell apart in the coming year. Some moved back to the urban outskirts they'd come from, but Caroline remained in the city proper. With some work, she found a job and an apartment. With some time, she came to accept her new life. Everything was looking up for her. RP Sample:   Caroline flicked off the radio and drove in silence, mulling over the news in her head. Occasionally she'd bark at another driver or twist her car's visor to block the sunset, but she otherwise remained passive and noncommittal to the whole business of driving. She'd been "promoted," from waitress to performer, and was set to do a one-time gig tomorrow. It was a big leap, a spur-of-the-moment decision by her boss and a chance that she'd been happy to accept. Thing was, she hadn't practiced in years. He was expecting her best performance, and she hadn't even read her sheet music since the band last got together. It was surprising that she managed to get home in one piece, and that she pulled out her old guitar and played for hours in preparation without becoming a nervous wreck. If she failed, she'd be stuck as a waitress or fired; if she succeeded, then what? Was she really ready for fame and glory after she'd chosen to abandon it along with the band? For the rest of the night she wondered what would lie ahead of her, even as she readied herself for a restful sleep amidst her worries of an uncertain future. But for some reason, she woke up somewhere which was definitely not her bedroom.

[MichaelFTrevino]

Character

Name: Modern: Ishmael "Gutter" Conteh
Current Name: He has taken none

Gender: Male

Class: Barbarian

Race: Half-Orc

Deities: Athiest

Alignment: Chaotic-murflefurfle

Appearance: Muscles, rippling and bulging are the most notable feature of this Half-Orc. His dark-olive skin is stretched, to the point of ripping, across the cables of muscles. Once we get past his over-compensating with muscles, he turns out to be a modest Half-Orc standing at 5foot 10inches and 2 1/2 inch tusks jutting from his lower jaw. His clothing and jewelry are spartan if at all existent. Hair covers his body in all the typical places, everywhere.

Background: Ishmael Conteh was born a strong and happy baby to Ibrahim and Sarah Conteh, at least this is what his parents told him. He remembers playing outdoors a lot and going to school. (Lord knows, he hated school.) However, much of those memories have faded.
Gutter was born on a Sunday, after church service let out. Outside the church doors Ibrahim and all the families were forced at gunpoint to give up many of their possessions and some of their children. His father was weak, the RUF troops took all he had and all he could do was beg. Gutter later realized such weakness could not hold the valuables such as he and his sister.
Now, how many of us can remember details of our birth? Gutter only remembers waking with a rifle in his hand and the bullet riddle bodies of Ibrahim and Sarah before him. He rarely visits that memory and it is starting to fade. After 7 years fighting for the SBU he's seen and done everything a man should see and do. Most notably, take a human life. This world is a cruel place and if you do not kill, you'll be killed.

 

The Revolutionary United Front (RUF) was a rebel army that fought a failed eleven-year war in Sierra Leone, starting in 1991 and ending in 2002
The Small Boys Unit (SBU) was a group of children who were forcibly recruited by the Revolutionary United Front (RUF) as militants during the Sierra Leone Civil War .

RP Sample: The distinct pop of AK-47 fire has always been his background music.
"Hmm," thought Gutter, "this hurts less than I would have believed." Looking down as blood soaked his own pants. For once, a mild surprise creeped into his mood. "All the people I've done this too, this is what they've felt."
Faces flooded his vision, all wide-eyed and horror filled. None spoke, but all said, "Why!?!?!?"
As the faces fade ,Gutter realizes, "I feel nothing like them. I was born a monster and I will die at 14 years old, a Monster."
Eyes still upon the blood soaked clothes, Gutter noted the bleeding had stopped. "I just might get through this after all." Darkness drew down on him. "This . . . will leave . . . quite a scar."