Post by Drew Strify on Aug 26, 2008 15:09:07 GMT -5
• Name: Drew Tiokun Josepf Strify
• Age: 17yrs
• Descent: Hades, Lord of the Underworld
• Description:
Note: He normally has brown-hair such as the motion below
On occasions Drew's usual wavy, brown-hair can appear different colours. Besides the amount of blonde and black dye he uses at dates, his strands were semi-enchanted at his eleventh year on earth, causing them now to flitter the natural hair tones every once in a while.
The most strange aspect of his appeal is probably his exoctic cobalt eyes. Bright and cold, his stare was known to unnerve those around him, despite his overall attempts to fit in at his mortal schools.
Drew usually dresses in dark coloured, almost gothic wear - but he clashes them heavily with vibrantly bright ties and footwear.
• Personality: At times, his personality can rage. He can grow angry quickly and tends to snap at those around him for the smallest thing. Yet, there are days when he can sit for hours unchanging, listening to the noise of a bird as it fluttured across the skies overhead. Aslong as his silence isn't ruined, he won't get angry... but when he does, it's going to take him an awfull long time to calm down.
• Abilities:
-Weaknesses-
He can't stand water. It petrifies him (not literally) and he tens to stare dumbstruck at it. Besides being totally afraid of it, he hates it for his uncles territory and knows not to enter when he can. This includes all water sports (X3) He isn't that fond of lightening either.
Camp-wise, he's not too hot on Team Spirit and Chariot racing.
-Strengths-
Anything cool like ice he would try to use to his advantage, but he mainly trys to keep his fighting in the shadows where he can use the darkness as cover or use the things around him such as the wind movement as an opponent attacks rather than sight alone.
Camp-Wise, his swordfighting is pretty good, as is his archery and foot racing.
[+] He has the ability to kill off small things such as plants or insects at his touch. Note: This does NOT work with im/mortals, demigods or monsters.
[+] Using shade/shadows/darkness to revive his strength.
[+] Has a connection with the earth and fires below. He can bring lava to the surface, and use the dirt to make powerful beasts when fighting.
[+] Strygain Hounds
With a movement and prayer, Drew can form large 'hell'hounds from the shadows and ground beneath him - they burn on contact.
• Weapon:
Relentless - (Adiakopos in Greek)
Made from Ebony-Mer Steel, it's black blade is trimmed with Pyxian Bronze. Together the steel and bronze allow it to affect both immortal and monster. The ebony gives it enough power to cut through sunrays (on Earth only), which in advance would form a shade or shadow which he would be able to use to strengthen his own fights or to heal himself. On contact the blade emits a fine dark (though invisible) thread, which, if subject to for long enough, can range from knocking a target unconsious to simply causing them a stern migraine. It burns on contact. The pink kyanite at the top of it's helm can be pressed to regain it's microphone appearance, and then again to the ring.
Inactive form: A miniature silver guitar which is attached to a gothic looking ring. Drew can use it simply as a guitar, or as Relentless by touching the kyanite gemstone.
• Camp Half-Blood:
He has been at camp for about three years now. With no cabin, he tended to hang around wherever he could. Drew holds rivalries with most of the cabins, perhaps most noteably those of Zeus and Poseidon. He keeps his head low, and if asked, prefers not to tell people who his father is. Rather, he avoids the question completely.
Drew keeps his profile low unless provoked, he would rather sit apart from the other campers and be the subject of whisperings and discrimination than speak to them. He never got on well with campers and prefered not to.
Other History:
Since he was a kid, Drew had been living in downtown Manhattan. For the first seven years he lived a normal life, peaceful, and mortal to his own beliefs. He grew up never knowing one of is parents, but he learnt to live with it. Sure, there were kids who teased him and made fun, and he would have given anything to blow his top there and then - but fortunately he knew better. Other kids tended to get scared when he shouted, and he didn't exactly enjoy getting into trouble.
Anyhoo, during his seventh year alive, he had a minor run in with a maddenned child cyclops. Of course, he believed it was just a big street-kid. After that Drew had no more encounters until he learnt a little about himself. Of course, he was told nothing about Camp Half-blood, therefore he knew not what to do about the problems. Instead, he lived his life constantly in paranoia, watching out for anything he thought was out of the ordinary and basically trying to keep a low profile.
• RP Sample:
(If this has to be for Drew, I'll change it. But this is from another site, my charrie Erin)
Ravenwood tower 21:34
Alone.
Just me.
Then why do I feel like I'm being watched?
Dragging his heavy feet over the elavating slabs of stone, a stony-eyed teen approached the Sorcerer's statue with haste. Long strands of cinnamon and onyx were arranged in a controlled mess - low as it shadowed his tired gaze from view. He just needed to get away, time alone to think straight.
Slumping against the cold floor, Erin immediately thrust his head into his hands and let out a low groan. There was a roughness to it, a harsh undertone that he couldn't remember being there before. He felt so tired, but couldn't seem to close his eyes and relax. For a few days now, his magic had been failing - he'd been unable to think straight, constantly distracted by the smallest thing: a leaf blowing past a window, a footstep nearby, a breath.
Okay, let's just think. The ravenclaw slowly dragged himself to his feet, leaning his weight back against the statue in order to regain his composure. His legs trembled within the dark jeans than enclosed them, shivering through his own fear and weakness. When did-
Maybe rehab? No, too far back... End of year? Nothing happened then... maybe...
The dog in the woods?
Scratching the back of his head irritantly with his tanned fingers, Erinelle's brows furrowed as he tried frantically to piece together the memory of that night.
It had been only a week or so now - the night before term's end. After his meeting with the werewolf, Seth, the alumni had taken to hanging around the greenhouses on the off chance of catching the creature once more. Alas, he had waited for what seemed like hours, and was already past his curfew when he had finally spotted an canine shape nearby. It seemed stupid to him now, foolish even, that he had tried to follow - to fascinated by the prospect of meeting such a being once more. Stalking from the shadows, Erin had tracked face to face with a mere stray rather than the prize - ending up with a deep gash at his upper-arm where the lost-dogs jaw had made contact.
That night he hadn't dared visit the hospital wing, he was too embarrassed to explain his late night activities.
Now he came to think about it, everything -had- been going downhill since that night. Raising a hand to the wound subconsiously, the boy's onyx gaze trailed down to the previously bloody scars with an almost timid appeal. "I can't be a w-werewolf," he whispered, remembering the night had not been one of the full moon, "T-Then I might be a-"
Glancing nervously towards the stairwell, Erin placed his wand down on the slabbed platform. If anyone saw him now, he was going to have a big explanation on his hands. He doubted very much it would work, rather that he would be explaining why he was crouched low with his eyes shut tight. He had no idea what to do next, he was just planning on faking a migraine if nothing happenned.
Beneath his closed eyelids, the teen cleared his mind quickly - trying to drain out all thoughts apart from the semi-task ahead. Picture a wolf, right? Might work, you never know... he sighed inwardly, bringing the only image of the feral animal he could imagine into his mind. Imagine how it felt to have fur, how it felt to be free, to walk on all fours, to have a tail... imagine everything.
Openign his eyes after a few moments, Erin whimpered inwardly. Nothing seemed to have changed. He was still crouched on the ground, still human, still the kid he always was. "Don't get your hopes up, just like you tell everyone else," he scoulded himself sadly. At least, he would've done.
Instead of his usual husky voice, his throat emitted a low growl - enterwined with the sadness and disappointment in it's reverbs. What? Rooted cold for a minute or two, Erin stared down at his hands. Paws! he yelped inside, gaping down at them and admiring their black sheen. Every inch of his skin was covered in sleek coal-coloured fur with the occasional tan marking on his undercoat and at the ruffs of his ears.
Taking a while to look over as much of his new form as he could, a sheepish expression came over the wolf as he wandered close to the tower window - lifting his front paws so that he was stood on his hind legs, able to see the faint outline of his reflection.
"I'm a lycan..."
• Age: 17yrs
• Descent: Hades, Lord of the Underworld
• Description:
Note: He normally has brown-hair such as the motion below
On occasions Drew's usual wavy, brown-hair can appear different colours. Besides the amount of blonde and black dye he uses at dates, his strands were semi-enchanted at his eleventh year on earth, causing them now to flitter the natural hair tones every once in a while.
The most strange aspect of his appeal is probably his exoctic cobalt eyes. Bright and cold, his stare was known to unnerve those around him, despite his overall attempts to fit in at his mortal schools.
Drew usually dresses in dark coloured, almost gothic wear - but he clashes them heavily with vibrantly bright ties and footwear.
• Personality: At times, his personality can rage. He can grow angry quickly and tends to snap at those around him for the smallest thing. Yet, there are days when he can sit for hours unchanging, listening to the noise of a bird as it fluttured across the skies overhead. Aslong as his silence isn't ruined, he won't get angry... but when he does, it's going to take him an awfull long time to calm down.
• Abilities:
-Weaknesses-
He can't stand water. It petrifies him (not literally) and he tens to stare dumbstruck at it. Besides being totally afraid of it, he hates it for his uncles territory and knows not to enter when he can. This includes all water sports (X3) He isn't that fond of lightening either.
Camp-wise, he's not too hot on Team Spirit and Chariot racing.
-Strengths-
Anything cool like ice he would try to use to his advantage, but he mainly trys to keep his fighting in the shadows where he can use the darkness as cover or use the things around him such as the wind movement as an opponent attacks rather than sight alone.
Camp-Wise, his swordfighting is pretty good, as is his archery and foot racing.
[+] He has the ability to kill off small things such as plants or insects at his touch. Note: This does NOT work with im/mortals, demigods or monsters.
[+] Using shade/shadows/darkness to revive his strength.
[+] Has a connection with the earth and fires below. He can bring lava to the surface, and use the dirt to make powerful beasts when fighting.
[+] Strygain Hounds
With a movement and prayer, Drew can form large 'hell'hounds from the shadows and ground beneath him - they burn on contact.
• Weapon:
Relentless - (Adiakopos in Greek)
Made from Ebony-Mer Steel, it's black blade is trimmed with Pyxian Bronze. Together the steel and bronze allow it to affect both immortal and monster. The ebony gives it enough power to cut through sunrays (on Earth only), which in advance would form a shade or shadow which he would be able to use to strengthen his own fights or to heal himself. On contact the blade emits a fine dark (though invisible) thread, which, if subject to for long enough, can range from knocking a target unconsious to simply causing them a stern migraine. It burns on contact. The pink kyanite at the top of it's helm can be pressed to regain it's microphone appearance, and then again to the ring.
Inactive form: A miniature silver guitar which is attached to a gothic looking ring. Drew can use it simply as a guitar, or as Relentless by touching the kyanite gemstone.
• Camp Half-Blood:
He has been at camp for about three years now. With no cabin, he tended to hang around wherever he could. Drew holds rivalries with most of the cabins, perhaps most noteably those of Zeus and Poseidon. He keeps his head low, and if asked, prefers not to tell people who his father is. Rather, he avoids the question completely.
Drew keeps his profile low unless provoked, he would rather sit apart from the other campers and be the subject of whisperings and discrimination than speak to them. He never got on well with campers and prefered not to.
Other History:
Since he was a kid, Drew had been living in downtown Manhattan. For the first seven years he lived a normal life, peaceful, and mortal to his own beliefs. He grew up never knowing one of is parents, but he learnt to live with it. Sure, there were kids who teased him and made fun, and he would have given anything to blow his top there and then - but fortunately he knew better. Other kids tended to get scared when he shouted, and he didn't exactly enjoy getting into trouble.
Anyhoo, during his seventh year alive, he had a minor run in with a maddenned child cyclops. Of course, he believed it was just a big street-kid. After that Drew had no more encounters until he learnt a little about himself. Of course, he was told nothing about Camp Half-blood, therefore he knew not what to do about the problems. Instead, he lived his life constantly in paranoia, watching out for anything he thought was out of the ordinary and basically trying to keep a low profile.
• RP Sample:
(If this has to be for Drew, I'll change it. But this is from another site, my charrie Erin)
Ravenwood tower 21:34
Alone.
Just me.
Then why do I feel like I'm being watched?
Dragging his heavy feet over the elavating slabs of stone, a stony-eyed teen approached the Sorcerer's statue with haste. Long strands of cinnamon and onyx were arranged in a controlled mess - low as it shadowed his tired gaze from view. He just needed to get away, time alone to think straight.
Slumping against the cold floor, Erin immediately thrust his head into his hands and let out a low groan. There was a roughness to it, a harsh undertone that he couldn't remember being there before. He felt so tired, but couldn't seem to close his eyes and relax. For a few days now, his magic had been failing - he'd been unable to think straight, constantly distracted by the smallest thing: a leaf blowing past a window, a footstep nearby, a breath.
Okay, let's just think. The ravenclaw slowly dragged himself to his feet, leaning his weight back against the statue in order to regain his composure. His legs trembled within the dark jeans than enclosed them, shivering through his own fear and weakness. When did-
Maybe rehab? No, too far back... End of year? Nothing happened then... maybe...
The dog in the woods?
Scratching the back of his head irritantly with his tanned fingers, Erinelle's brows furrowed as he tried frantically to piece together the memory of that night.
It had been only a week or so now - the night before term's end. After his meeting with the werewolf, Seth, the alumni had taken to hanging around the greenhouses on the off chance of catching the creature once more. Alas, he had waited for what seemed like hours, and was already past his curfew when he had finally spotted an canine shape nearby. It seemed stupid to him now, foolish even, that he had tried to follow - to fascinated by the prospect of meeting such a being once more. Stalking from the shadows, Erin had tracked face to face with a mere stray rather than the prize - ending up with a deep gash at his upper-arm where the lost-dogs jaw had made contact.
That night he hadn't dared visit the hospital wing, he was too embarrassed to explain his late night activities.
Now he came to think about it, everything -had- been going downhill since that night. Raising a hand to the wound subconsiously, the boy's onyx gaze trailed down to the previously bloody scars with an almost timid appeal. "I can't be a w-werewolf," he whispered, remembering the night had not been one of the full moon, "T-Then I might be a-"
Glancing nervously towards the stairwell, Erin placed his wand down on the slabbed platform. If anyone saw him now, he was going to have a big explanation on his hands. He doubted very much it would work, rather that he would be explaining why he was crouched low with his eyes shut tight. He had no idea what to do next, he was just planning on faking a migraine if nothing happenned.
Beneath his closed eyelids, the teen cleared his mind quickly - trying to drain out all thoughts apart from the semi-task ahead. Picture a wolf, right? Might work, you never know... he sighed inwardly, bringing the only image of the feral animal he could imagine into his mind. Imagine how it felt to have fur, how it felt to be free, to walk on all fours, to have a tail... imagine everything.
Openign his eyes after a few moments, Erin whimpered inwardly. Nothing seemed to have changed. He was still crouched on the ground, still human, still the kid he always was. "Don't get your hopes up, just like you tell everyone else," he scoulded himself sadly. At least, he would've done.
Instead of his usual husky voice, his throat emitted a low growl - enterwined with the sadness and disappointment in it's reverbs. What? Rooted cold for a minute or two, Erin stared down at his hands. Paws! he yelped inside, gaping down at them and admiring their black sheen. Every inch of his skin was covered in sleek coal-coloured fur with the occasional tan marking on his undercoat and at the ruffs of his ears.
Taking a while to look over as much of his new form as he could, a sheepish expression came over the wolf as he wandered close to the tower window - lifting his front paws so that he was stood on his hind legs, able to see the faint outline of his reflection.
"I'm a lycan..."
