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Description
Trying again, wish me luck I guess.

OH.
OH.
OH MY GOODNESS.
I love everyone.

Also, I'm free to rp through notes, comments, and Skype. I'm still Onexwithxwaffles on there.

◊ Name: Eric Quinlenn
◊ Age: Appears 18, but is actually 150+.
◊ Gender: Male
◊ Height: 5' 4"
◊ Job: Toy Soldier
◊ Species: Zombie ("Enhanced" human)
◊ Weapon : Steamed breath
❥ The steam is exhaust from the gears and pistons in his body. The steam is usually incredibly hot, but if so needed, can be cooled down slightly.
❥ He can manipulate the steam as long as it is less than a foot from his person.
❥ Steam turns green in contact with oxygen.
◊ Abilities : Mid-long range combat
❥ He is most comfortable with guns, most commonly pistols.
❥ He can fight in close combat, but not as skilled.
❥ He uses steam for mid-range opponents, or if he doesn't have any other weapon around.
◊ Personality:❥Somewhat loyal. He is loyal, unless otherwise ordered. His loyalty is to his job.
❥ Impassive. The thought of fighting or gruesome subjects do not phase him.
❥Creeper. He is commonly found staring, and hardly ever blinks.
❥ Considerate. He understands stuff happens, and isn't all that strict with deadlines. He is often fooled by this consideration, though.
❥ A good listener. He's great at keeping secrets.
❥ Takes orders easily. He was created to serve.
◊ Bio:

❥Crimean War- 1854

A boy of sixteen was walking down pristine corridors. His boots echoing, he couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of pride, knowing that his father had once walked down the same hall, in the same uniform, heading for the same destination. This boy of sixteen is not walking down any corridor, no. It's a special one. This boy of sixteen, freshly sixteen, was walking down the corridors of a military base.

❥Crimean War- 1855

It's been months. This boy but of seventeen years, has been fighting in this war for only a short period of time, but it was taking so long. He's made improvement, even though he's certainly gained a few scars, bright and angry against his tanned skin. They've just recently healed.
Yet, even though these marks have only just appeared, he's been preparing himself for more. However, these scars are going to be different.
Just recently his stationed base has been experimenting in secret. Well, not really. They've been researching and studying this for months, maybe years. Nobody is really quite sure. Anyways, some of the higher ups have posted a sign up sheet for this new weapon. It's not a regular weapon, like the guns or blades or other strange contraptions the recruits have become so adapt at handling. This weapon will be them. They are going to be mechanically “enhanced”. They will become perfect soldiers.
Eric Quinlenn was printed largely on the first available line in seconds.

❥Crimean War- 1856

They hadn't told them it was going to be this bad. He felt like his body was too heavy when he awoke. His breath burned on his lips, yet the lips themselves were so very numb, just like his torso. Oh, what had they done to it? He felt as if there were all these things, moving, spinning, cranking, whirring around inside his stomach, his chest burning as if he had inhaled a house full of smoke. Sometimes, when he opened his mouth, it even looked like there really was smoke coming out.
It was painful, and throughout the recovery of whatever they had done to him, he felt strangely hollow...

❥Post War- 1857

He wanted to die. He wanted to die so much at this point. But he couldn't.
Yet he obviously could, because he already had.
You see, this boy, this boy but of eighteen has given up his life to the war. The horrible, horrible war that had taken his father, even his mother, and now himself.
He was dead.
Yet he couldn't be, for he is still very much alive.

❥Post Successful Experiment- ???

He was running as fast as his legs would take him. He could feel those gears jamming up already, slowing down; he couldn't stop, not now. Not while they're already so close. If he still had a heart, Eric was sure it would’ve exploded by now.
People all around England had heard of the enhancements done to the soldiers, and many were outraged as soon as they found out. Riots started, people fought, and some died. Now, though, both sides had reached an agreement that did anything but settle things. Somehow, the decision was made to get rid of the evidence, and everyone will have a happy ending, no harm done. Sure. Let them think that.
Now Eric was on the run, a once successful experiment gone wrong. He had nobody to go to, even though it honestly wouldn't help that much. His appearance was enough to turn anybody off of wanting to help him. He had the outfit of a poor orphan, a mix of regular trousers, a worn out shirt, and a very dusty jacket. That isn't the bad part, though. He also wore a mask, and given the circumstances as far as current fashion and what-not, it wasn't that strange. But he never, ever took it off. Ever. It was simply preposterous to risk. However much of a strange thing that in itself may have been, it was not the thing that kept poor Eric form being accepted. His hair, skin, and eyes were the issue.
He's always had his vibrant green eyes. Nobody has ever worried about them, or found them even slightly off before he had died. Then again, his once nicely tanned skin now being the pasty and slightly glowing white skin seemed to give them an eerie look, the dark lines underneath not really helping. His hair was now white, too.
His hair had been such a different shade before, such a milky chocolate color.
Sometimes when he caught his reflection, he would take a while reminding himself that it was him he was seeing, and not some strange person with an equally strange fashion sense.

❥Post Experiment Removal- ???

He was tired. Tired of running, tired of... He didn't really know what. Of living, he guessed.
What do you do when you're tired? You sleep.

And so he did.

❥Waking up- ???

A boy, or man, or whatever you would want to classify him as, had just realized something. He's realized that he's slept for far too long, and that it's time to finally start again. His era has passed, the steam-based technologies now gone and only used as the occasional fashion accessory, now replaced with so may strange things. Buildings and such that he had grown so accustomed to were replaced with so many miscellaneous things.
Like toy stores.
Eric soon realized he couldn't just hide and prance around as easily as he once could. This wasn't the territory he was used to. In fact, he wasn't even sure where he was any more.
He needed a job.
That was funny.
Him?
Being accepted for something like a job?
Seriously. That's a joke.

But then again, it wouldn't hurt to at least apply... he might find something interesting.

◊ Likes: ❥Formality
❥Guns
❥Metal
❥Tea
❥Quiet rooms
❥Staying awake late at night
◊ Dislikes: ❥Slobs
❥Comments on his choice of clothing
❥Those who act like they have no meaning in life.
❥Crying women.
◊ Additional Information: ❥ Eric was born in a Victorian-Steampunk era in the year of 1841.
❥He has a heavy London accent. (I'll try and use English phrases, but if I slip up, I'm sorry!)
❥His hair turned white before he had woken from the surgery. I mean, really. He died, of course it's gong to turn white or something.
❥ He has the same build as his father, but more facial features from his mother.
❥He was an only child.

Description
Trying again, wish me luck I guess.

OH.
OH.
OH MY GOODNESS.
I love everyone.

Also, I'm free to rp through notes, comments, and Skype. I'm still Onexwithxwaffles on there.

◊ Name: Eric Quinlenn
◊ Age: Appears 18, but is actually 150+.
◊ Gender: Male
◊ Height: 5' 4"
◊ Job: Toy Soldier
◊ Species: Zombie ("Enhanced" human)
◊ Weapon : Steamed breath
❥ The steam is exhaust from the gears and pistons in his body. The steam is usually incredibly hot, but if so needed, can be cooled down slightly.
❥ He can manipulate the steam as long as it is less than a foot from his person.
❥ Steam turns green in contact with oxygen.
◊ Abilities : Mid-long range combat
❥ He is most comfortable with guns, most commonly pistols.
❥ He can fight in close combat, but not as skilled.
❥ He uses steam for mid-range opponents, or if he doesn't have any other weapon around.
◊ Personality:❥Somewhat loyal. He is loyal, unless otherwise ordered. His loyalty is to his job.
❥ Impassive. The thought of fighting or gruesome subjects do not phase him.
❥Creeper. He is commonly found staring, and hardly ever blinks.
❥ Considerate. He understands stuff happens, and isn't all that strict with deadlines. He is often fooled by this consideration, though.
❥ A good listener. He's great at keeping secrets.
❥ Takes orders easily. He was created to serve.
◊ Bio:

❥Crimean War- 1854

A boy of sixteen was walking down pristine corridors. His boots echoing, he couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of pride, knowing that his father had once walked down the same hall, in the same uniform, heading for the same destination. This boy of sixteen is not walking down any corridor, no. It's a special one. This boy of sixteen, freshly sixteen, was walking down the corridors of a military base.

❥Crimean War- 1855

It's been months. This boy but of seventeen years, has been fighting in this war for only a short period of time, but it was taking so long. He's made improvement, even though he's certainly gained a few scars, bright and angry against his tanned skin. They've just recently healed.
Yet, even though these marks have only just appeared, he's been preparing himself for more. However, these scars are going to be different.
Just recently his stationed base has been experimenting in secret. Well, not really. They've been researching and studying this for months, maybe years. Nobody is really quite sure. Anyways, some of the higher ups have posted a sign up sheet for this new weapon. It's not a regular weapon, like the guns or blades or other strange contraptions the recruits have become so adapt at handling. This weapon will be them. They are going to be mechanically “enhanced”. They will become perfect soldiers.
Eric Quinlenn was printed largely on the first available line in seconds.

❥Crimean War- 1856

They hadn't told them it was going to be this bad. He felt like his body was too heavy when he awoke. His breath burned on his lips, yet the lips themselves were so very numb, just like his torso. Oh, what had they done to it? He felt as if there were all these things, moving, spinning, cranking, whirring around inside his stomach, his chest burning as if he had inhaled a house full of smoke. Sometimes, when he opened his mouth, it even looked like there really was smoke coming out.
It was painful, and throughout the recovery of whatever they had done to him, he felt strangely hollow...

❥Post War- 1857

He wanted to die. He wanted to die so much at this point. But he couldn't.
Yet he obviously could, because he already had.
You see, this boy, this boy but of eighteen has given up his life to the war. The horrible, horrible war that had taken his father, even his mother, and now himself.
He was dead.
Yet he couldn't be, for he is still very much alive.

❥Post Successful Experiment- ???

He was running as fast as his legs would take him. He could feel those gears jamming up already, slowing down; he couldn't stop, not now. Not while they're already so close. If he still had a heart, Eric was sure it would’ve exploded by now.
People all around England had heard of the enhancements done to the soldiers, and many were outraged as soon as they found out. Riots started, people fought, and some died. Now, though, both sides had reached an agreement that did anything but settle things. Somehow, the decision was made to get rid of the evidence, and everyone will have a happy ending, no harm done. Sure. Let them think that.
Now Eric was on the run, a once successful experiment gone wrong. He had nobody to go to, even though it honestly wouldn't help that much. His appearance was enough to turn anybody off of wanting to help him. He had the outfit of a poor orphan, a mix of regular trousers, a worn out shirt, and a very dusty jacket. That isn't the bad part, though. He also wore a mask, and given the circumstances as far as current fashion and what-not, it wasn't that strange. But he never, ever took it off. Ever. It was simply preposterous to risk. However much of a strange thing that in itself may have been, it was not the thing that kept poor Eric form being accepted. His hair, skin, and eyes were the issue.
He's always had his vibrant green eyes. Nobody has ever worried about them, or found them even slightly off before he had died. Then again, his once nicely tanned skin now being the pasty and slightly glowing white skin seemed to give them an eerie look, the dark lines underneath not really helping. His hair was now white, too.
His hair had been such a different shade before, such a milky chocolate color.
Sometimes when he caught his reflection, he would take a while reminding himself that it was him he was seeing, and not some strange person with an equally strange fashion sense.

❥Post Experiment Removal- ???

He was tired. Tired of running, tired of... He didn't really know what. Of living, he guessed.
What do you do when you're tired? You sleep.

And so he did.

❥Waking up- ???

A boy, or man, or whatever you would want to classify him as, had just realized something. He's realized that he's slept for far too long, and that it's time to finally start again. His era has passed, the steam-based technologies now gone and only used as the occasional fashion accessory, now replaced with so may strange things. Buildings and such that he had grown so accustomed to were replaced with so many miscellaneous things.
Like toy stores.
Eric soon realized he couldn't just hide and prance around as easily as he once could. This wasn't the territory he was used to. In fact, he wasn't even sure where he was any more.
He needed a job.
That was funny.
Him?
Being accepted for something like a job?
Seriously. That's a joke.

But then again, it wouldn't hurt to at least apply... he might find something interesting.

◊ Likes: ❥Formality
❥Guns
❥Metal
❥Tea
❥Quiet rooms
❥Staying awake late at night
◊ Dislikes: ❥Slobs
❥Comments on his choice of clothing
❥Those who act like they have no meaning in life.
❥Crying women.
◊ Additional Information: ❥ Eric was born in a Victorian-Steampunk era in the year of 1841.
❥He has a heavy London accent. (I'll try and use English phrases, but if I slip up, I'm sorry!)
❥His hair turned white before he had woken from the surgery. I mean, really. He died, of course it's gong to turn white or something.
❥ He has the same build as his father, but more facial features from his mother.
❥He was an only child.