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Description

YES, I MADE ONE.

Name: Lament
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Living: Dorm (A room-mate would be fine.)
Grade: 1st
Personality: Lament is mostly quiet. Almost disturbingly so. It takes a lot to get on his bad side, but if you manage to piss him off, he'll break your thumbs. Despite not being the type to goof off, Lament has a hard time paying attention during classes, mostly because he lacks motivation while he's just sitting in a classroom. He excels out in the field, however. His chill attitude allows him to get along smoothly with other students, but he hardly ever engages in a direct conversation.

(Intense-Mega WIP )Basic History: Lament grew up a relatively normal kid. He had decent grades, got into mischief like all kids do, and he often was a little punk. Not that he actually meant to be one, people just stereo-typically assumed that he was one of 'those' kids. it wasn't really his fault that he looked sickly most of the time, he just got... little sleep. Very, little sleep. He would stay up late, staring outside as loud noises erupted downstairs. If you haven't guessed it by now, you can assume that his parents didn't get along well. He'd almost enjoy listening. Hearing witty remarks from both his mother and father intrigued him. To this day, he'll still use some of the same retorts and come-backs that they used. However the less sleep he got, the more sickly he looked. It got to the point where his parents grew generally concerned about him for the first time. He was taken to a therapist, not that it actually helped. His mind was often elsewhere, drowning in his imaginary world that his mind created. The boy began running off after his mother dropped him off at his 'sessions'. As soon as she pulled out onto the main road, he'd dash off into the forest that surrounded the rather small town. His mental conditions grew worse as he began imagining people running or hiding among the trees. He's just sit and watch as they sat and watched him. Neither would move. It annoyed him. Why would they stare at him like that? Why didn't they talk so that he could yell at them? One day, he brought a pocket knife with him in order to... persuade the creature to speak .

The persuasion went awfully wrong. Before he knew what he'd done, the creature... no, the human, was struggling for breath, pinned underneath of him. It turns out that it was a young kid behind a mask. In it's backpack were numerous pages, bottles, and weapons. It disturbed him, but interested him nonetheless. Soon enough he found himself stalking the stalkers that roamed the forest, growing better and better at the new... hobby.

Roleplay example: Along the vacant street, footsteps eerily echoed. It was a relatively cold night and very few would be crazy enough to venture outside at such a time. The murky figure's pale blue eyes scanned the empty pavement for any sign of life. His skeletal frame was caressed by a thin layer of skin that had little to no radiance. This was all concealed by a dark coat that he had worn purposefully in order to avoid detection. The torn sides of his mouth erupted into cloud of smoke that was produced by a dwindling cigarette. "Shit..." he murmured and dropped the cigarette stomping it out. It was a bad habit, he knew that much. Though, it was a special occasion... Someone was going to die tonight.

Year Classes:

History of Myths
Dealing with the Paranormal: Year #1
Basic Medicine
Basic Diplomacy
Weaponry and Hand to Hand Combat: Year #1
Tracking
Hunting the Obscure

Description

YES, I MADE ONE.

Name: Lament
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Living: Dorm (A room-mate would be fine.)
Grade: 1st
Personality: Lament is mostly quiet. Almost disturbingly so. It takes a lot to get on his bad side, but if you manage to piss him off, he'll break your thumbs. Despite not being the type to goof off, Lament has a hard time paying attention during classes, mostly because he lacks motivation while he's just sitting in a classroom. He excels out in the field, however. His chill attitude allows him to get along smoothly with other students, but he hardly ever engages in a direct conversation.

(Intense-Mega WIP )Basic History: Lament grew up a relatively normal kid. He had decent grades, got into mischief like all kids do, and he often was a little punk. Not that he actually meant to be one, people just stereo-typically assumed that he was one of 'those' kids. it wasn't really his fault that he looked sickly most of the time, he just got... little sleep. Very, little sleep. He would stay up late, staring outside as loud noises erupted downstairs. If you haven't guessed it by now, you can assume that his parents didn't get along well. He'd almost enjoy listening. Hearing witty remarks from both his mother and father intrigued him. To this day, he'll still use some of the same retorts and come-backs that they used. However the less sleep he got, the more sickly he looked. It got to the point where his parents grew generally concerned about him for the first time. He was taken to a therapist, not that it actually helped. His mind was often elsewhere, drowning in his imaginary world that his mind created. The boy began running off after his mother dropped him off at his 'sessions'. As soon as she pulled out onto the main road, he'd dash off into the forest that surrounded the rather small town. His mental conditions grew worse as he began imagining people running or hiding among the trees. He's just sit and watch as they sat and watched him. Neither would move. It annoyed him. Why would they stare at him like that? Why didn't they talk so that he could yell at them? One day, he brought a pocket knife with him in order to... persuade the creature to speak .

The persuasion went awfully wrong. Before he knew what he'd done, the creature... no, the human, was struggling for breath, pinned underneath of him. It turns out that it was a young kid behind a mask. In it's backpack were numerous pages, bottles, and weapons. It disturbed him, but interested him nonetheless. Soon enough he found himself stalking the stalkers that roamed the forest, growing better and better at the new... hobby.

Roleplay example: Along the vacant street, footsteps eerily echoed. It was a relatively cold night and very few would be crazy enough to venture outside at such a time. The murky figure's pale blue eyes scanned the empty pavement for any sign of life. His skeletal frame was caressed by a thin layer of skin that had little to no radiance. This was all concealed by a dark coat that he had worn purposefully in order to avoid detection. The torn sides of his mouth erupted into cloud of smoke that was produced by a dwindling cigarette. "Shit..." he murmured and dropped the cigarette stomping it out. It was a bad habit, he knew that much. Though, it was a special occasion... Someone was going to die tonight.

Year Classes:

History of Myths
Dealing with the Paranormal: Year #1
Basic Medicine
Basic Diplomacy
Weaponry and Hand to Hand Combat: Year #1
Tracking
Hunting the Obscure