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Old 04-05-2006, 07:35 PM
Duke of Clubs Duke of Clubs is offline
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Re: Character List

Name: Kellson

Age: 20

Race: Human.

Sex: Male.

Hair: Shaggy black hair that stops a bit above the shoulders.

Eyes: Dark brown.

Weight:185 lbs

Height: 6 foot 2 inches.

Theme Song: Sic - Slipknot

Weapon: Everything is a weapon. A wall, a piece of fruit, really depends on his surroundings. However, he owns two swords (one long and one short), a belt full of knives, a spear, and occasionally a small crossbow and pouch of bolts. Recently, he has carried the crossbow, sword and only a few knives, along with newly aquired brass knuckles. His father was the Captain of the Watch in his town, so he had training with various weapons. There is nothing magical about anything to do with him. Magic waters down the experience.

Armor: Leather chest armor (called klibanion) with light chain mail underneath, as well as vambraces and greaves. Recently, Kellson discarded the klibanion in favor of stronger chainmail (he keeps the unused armor at the Dome).

Companion: Kellson travels with a small but ferocious hedgehog named Spiny Norman. He suspects that Norman is somehow magically touched, because he grows larger whenever he, Norman, deems that a bigger, stronger body is better. His biggest growth so far has been the size of about two polar bears.

Strengths: He has been divinely gifted with wings. God has not yet deigned to say why. Kellson also has been taught swordplay from his father (the aforementioned Captain of the Watch) and various shadowy figures that came to his town to rest on their assorted travels. He has a very suspicious mind and always assumes the worst, which is sometimes bad (See weaknesses), but it means that he is rarely taken by surprise. The regicide is also amazingly strong because he has been able to exercise and train constantly. He's punched through a tree, to give you a measure of power. Because he can never tire, he's able to swing his swords with incredible strength and blinding speed -every- strike. He's ballin'.

Weakness: Kellson is extremely cynical and, for that reason, limits his number of friends. His cynicism has led to a slight paranoia of being attacked in the calmest places (although he likes fighting, because really, everything else is boring). However, his alliance with the possibly magical hedgehog Spiny Norman has lessened this, because the animal will inflate when an attacker nears. He procrastinates on things he doesn’t want to do and is sometimes a trifle lazy. Finally, he loves to be a swashbuckling hero, so he can’t resist an opportunity to, uh, swashbuckle. It isn’t vanity. It’s the enjoyment of life by pulling off outrageous stunts.

Skills/Magic: 1) Black wings that work.
2) Recently, the Angel Gabriel gave him a power that many angels have acquired, with which Kellson can give people a blast of godly energy that sends things flying but doesn't actually hurt them. It's better as stunning or off-balancing foes, or throwing them into hard objects. Another downside is that it takes about several seconds to recharge.
3) In a dangerous expedition (funnily enough, his teacher called it a field trip), Kellson won a magical amulet by permanently incapacitating a hellspawn centaur. The amulet grants him the power of unending strength; he will never stop fighting unless he either chooses or is in too much pain to continue. While the amulet does not give him the strength to, for example, uproot a 100 foot tall tree, it does gradually increase his overall strength, making him stronger every passing day in small increments.

Appearance: Kellson has shaggy black hair that falls to his shoulders, and is clean shaven. This lack of beard makes the twin scars on either cheek more visible (a result of battling a demonic monkey), but he doesn't mind, prefering to remember that he needs to guard his head better. He wears a dark purple headband...just because. His eyes are dark brown, almost pure black when there is little light. He's burned off just about every ounce of fat imaginable; he's ripped. He wears a simple tunic and breeches, along with his rust-free chain mail underneath, vambraces, and greaves. For traveling, he owns a worn cloak of mottled olive-green and mud brown that blends with most environments; in recent times, he discarded this for a black trenchcoat. Unlike his other clothes, his boots are a dusty black, with thin soles and have straps rather than buckles. He ‘reads’ the ground through the boots, to get a sense of the area he is going through. He wears his short, curved sword on his back. He sometimes wears two belts crossed across his chest that have knives strapped in them. His crossbow, smaller and sleeker than normal, has a sling over his cloak for easy reach.

Kellson's picture (By 1)ragon11, huzzah)

Personality: Again, he acts like a hero from a book, except deep down he knows that the books are just enormous lies and don’t give you the behind-the-scenes look at what they’re thinking. In reality, he's more of an antihero. When he travels, everything and anything can be used as a weapon. For instance, you can use a chicken bone to glass someone in the face. Kellson likes to wait for the other person/persons/etc. to make the first move, so he can see where they messed up and how to capitalize. He also likes to prove people wrong. Someone has to, right? He's fairly cynical but is deeply Christian (although he interprets the Bible to suit his needs). If he meets someone, it doesn't matter if they're battling or talking; he'll be caustic and sardonic, mouthing off a lot.

Biography: Kellson was born in an average town, nestled in the comfortable hills of Armenia, to the Captain of the Watch and a rugmaker, Vartan and Katia. Their only child, the couple were delighted to introduce Kellson into the world. At the age of seven, Vartan began instructing him in how to use a dagger. A year later, Kellson bought his first sword.

Although he was to young to help his father at the Watch, he sat on the sidelines and watched the training of the new recruits (the Watch doubled as a militia as well as a police force) and learned. Travelers, roaming through the hills and mountains, taught him lessons in the uses of other, less common weapons and various skills, like how to track, skin, and cook animals in the wild.

Years passed. A month after Kellson’s fifteenth birthday, a bloodied stranger staggered into town from the west. The townspeople hastily gave him a room and a hot meal in the tavern, and soon, he was well enough to tell his story. He gave word of new armies amassing in the west, and heading in this direction. They left no survivors and left the bloody carcasses to rot and be eaten by the crows, he said, eyes wide with horror, staring past the crowd into the distance. Those that were taken prisoner were given one crust of bread and sip of water in the space of two days, and no one lasted more than a week without starving to death. Their bodies, the man said sadly, were left by the crows and vultures, because the long march coupled with the lack of food left nothing edible but the eyes and the marrow of the bones.

“What will we do if they come here, Dad?” Kellson asked as they returned home.

“We can run, fight, or die.” His father sighed, then ruffled his son’s messy raven hair. “We should put out a list of who is fat for the vultures.”

Kellson laughed. “Gallows humor.” It took away from the gravity of the situation.

Three months later, the armies attacked. It was an hour before dusk when they struck, lighting fire to the houses on the outskirts of the road to the west. Vartan had grabbed his armor and weapon, ran out the door, and said goodbye to his son.

“Kellson, I’ll probably die today.” It took him so by surprise, Kellson could say nothing.

“I doubt your mother will survive, either, but you are young, Kell You can’t die yet. I want you to run, now, while the Watch and I distract the army.”

Kellson regained his tongue. “What? They can’t kill you, Dad! They can’t. It isn’t fair! I’m not leaving.”

“You must!”

Kellson shook his head, a tear trickling down his cheek unchecked. “I don’t fear death. I just ain’t in a hurry for it. But if I gotta die, I want to with you! I won’t run! It isn’t fair!”

“Neither is this,” Vartan said, and knocked him in the head with his sword hilt.
When Kellson awoke, the village was destroyed. No one lived. His father’s crossbow lay discarded on the ground, along with its sack of bolts. His body lay sprawled across the dirt with a spear thrust through. Kellson stared, and picked up the crossbow, and the spear that was through his father’s body. Turning east, he walked away, with the dying sun behind him.
The man who had given the town the news of the invaders was in a pub when, through the clamor, he heard a strange tale. A fifteen year old boy had shot the second-in-command of the army through the eye and into his skull. The boy had disappeared.
Kellson woke up to find a hedgehog poking his nose with its snout.


The hedgehog snuffled.

“Go on, little spineball. Go away.”

Snuffle, snuffle, sneeze. Sniff.

Kellson shook his head and got up, munching on his rationed portion of bread and meat. The hedgehog sniffed the remaining bread.

“No. No, I won’t give you any. No. No! ” he said, as the hedgehog looked at him sadly. “You know what? Fine. Take some bread. Here. Now go.”

An hour later, he turned and saw the hedgehog waddling behind him.

Two days later, he turned and saw that the hedgehog was still trailing him.

A week later, he turned and that cursed hedgehog was still there.

Two weeks later, the hedgehog, newly christened Spiny Norman (Spiny for obvious reasons, and Norman after a Viking boy he had met while travelling), was sitting comfortably on his shoulder.

Kellson continued to travel on aimlessly through the world. One day, he woke up to find that he had a large pair of wings poking out of his shirt. It must be a gift from God and Jesus, he thought. I am blessed, and my, oh my, this will be fun. Thank you.

Tales began to swirl about a young angel and his familiar who roamed the land.

Kellson leaned back in the tavern one night, and decided that he liked the rumors and stories. If only there could be more. With more, he could maybe find some people to help him hunt down the army from the west and kill their leader, just for fun. With that story, surely there would be people wanting other despots and whatnot killed . Kellson, Anarchist/Regicide for Hire. He liked the sound of it...

Recently, Kellson has had various experiences with Death, two major residents of Heaven, and the mysterious and powerful Trousers of Time. Oh, and God. He went a' questing with his teacher, Cadenza Madrigal, and his two fellow students, TDC and Jhans Frenn to find treasure.

-Red Moon (Finished)
-The Moon Hunt (Finished)
-Of Men and Gods (In Progress)
-Sea to Bloody Sea (Finished)

-Field Trip!!! (Completed)
-A Red Feather, A Black Feather (In Progress)

Character Fiction:
-Angels on the Sideline (Holy smack, revived.)
Last Edited by Duke of Clubs; 05-17-2007 at 09:58 PM. Reason: