02-15-2007, 05:19 PM
Name: Robert Cunningham, though he does not answer to this anymore
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Race: Human
Languages: English, Arabic, Deamonic
Sexuality: Straight
Alliance: Neutral, though grouped with the Oathbreakers by the Keepers because of his methods and deeds
Occupation: Used to be an archeology student, now unemployed, simply travels from place to place on a beat-up motorcycle pursuing what he seeks, he makes a fair amount of money from time to time selling artefacts to interested parties
Nationality: American
Personality: Formerly polite and cheerful, now quiet and withdrawn, speaking only when it suits his purposes, has an unsettling aura of madness about him
Appearance: Deathly pale, with black, gray streaked hair and black eyes. Has a thin, muscular build covered with dirtied and dusty clothes, usually earth toned polos with matching khaki pants, tan colored boots and a brown leather jacket that had seen better days. Branded onto his chest is an eight pointed star. Around his neck is a pendant containing a green, glimmering jewel with resembles an eye of sorts.
Height: 6'1
Combat techniques: He carries with him a scimitar taken from Arabs he had killed at the beginning of his journey and over time has become an accomplished swordsman despite having no weapon training of any kind in his life. Even without that weapon, he posesses considerable skill in hand to hand combat, usually improvised.
Skills: Blessings from his new masters has granted Robert superhuman strength, speed, and resilience.
Magic: The mark burned upon his chest grants him his physical blessings, and the jeweled pendant grants him visions of things to come. The more of his sought after artefacts he finds, the more power he gains.
---------------------
The Mark...
The Eye...
The Sword...
The Steed...
The Armor...
The Helm...
Riding into town, these thoughts ran through the mind of the young man as he mentally checked off what he had and what he needed to find. he had already posessed the mark, burned onto his flesh by his newfound gods, the eye he had plucked from the ancient treasure trove of a long dead dragon. Upon looking through that gem, he saw that he would find the sword in the mountains west of the city, he could practically feel it's unholy grip in his hands. Pulling into a small hotel's parking lot, he had determined that this would be where he would set up camp for now until he could divine the sword's exact location.
After checking in, the young man, known as Robert before his quest began, laid his duffel down on the hotel's bed and sorted through them. The duffel's contents were few at best, a few random artefacts gleaned from random places so that he might barter them for money, an Arabian scimitar, taken from some nomadic tribesmen who had gotten in his way two years ago, and from the same time period, the item that had started his quest, a book, the Necrodomo Codex. It was from this book, that he learned the truth, it was from here that he resolved himself to his fate, his destiny.
Walking into the bathroom, he took a look in the mirror, his face was covered with the dust of a very long road-trip, unshaven, looking very much like the rest of him. While he felt that such asthetic hygene was becoming increasingly below him, he knew that he must keep up appearences so that he could stay under the radar of those that would try to stop him from accomplishing his great task. Undressing, he set to showering, shaving and using a pair of scissors left behind by a previous tennant, cutting his hair. Once this was done, he redressed, locked his hotel room door and left the building, to seek information about the mountains to the west.
While the eye gave him a glimpse of future events, his mastery of it was not yet complete and had to do most of the divining work himself. He walked down the streets, looking for a library, or anything that could give him the information he required. Spying a nearby coffee shop, he decided to go inside hoping it would have a computer as a lot of places like that do nowadays. He tucked his pendant into his shirt, keeping the eye hidden from those that may recognize it or it's power.
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Race: Human
Languages: English, Arabic, Deamonic
Sexuality: Straight
Alliance: Neutral, though grouped with the Oathbreakers by the Keepers because of his methods and deeds
Occupation: Used to be an archeology student, now unemployed, simply travels from place to place on a beat-up motorcycle pursuing what he seeks, he makes a fair amount of money from time to time selling artefacts to interested parties
Nationality: American
Personality: Formerly polite and cheerful, now quiet and withdrawn, speaking only when it suits his purposes, has an unsettling aura of madness about him
Appearance: Deathly pale, with black, gray streaked hair and black eyes. Has a thin, muscular build covered with dirtied and dusty clothes, usually earth toned polos with matching khaki pants, tan colored boots and a brown leather jacket that had seen better days. Branded onto his chest is an eight pointed star. Around his neck is a pendant containing a green, glimmering jewel with resembles an eye of sorts.
Height: 6'1
Combat techniques: He carries with him a scimitar taken from Arabs he had killed at the beginning of his journey and over time has become an accomplished swordsman despite having no weapon training of any kind in his life. Even without that weapon, he posesses considerable skill in hand to hand combat, usually improvised.
Skills: Blessings from his new masters has granted Robert superhuman strength, speed, and resilience.
Magic: The mark burned upon his chest grants him his physical blessings, and the jeweled pendant grants him visions of things to come. The more of his sought after artefacts he finds, the more power he gains.
---------------------
The Mark...
The Eye...
The Sword...
The Steed...
The Armor...
The Helm...
Riding into town, these thoughts ran through the mind of the young man as he mentally checked off what he had and what he needed to find. he had already posessed the mark, burned onto his flesh by his newfound gods, the eye he had plucked from the ancient treasure trove of a long dead dragon. Upon looking through that gem, he saw that he would find the sword in the mountains west of the city, he could practically feel it's unholy grip in his hands. Pulling into a small hotel's parking lot, he had determined that this would be where he would set up camp for now until he could divine the sword's exact location.
After checking in, the young man, known as Robert before his quest began, laid his duffel down on the hotel's bed and sorted through them. The duffel's contents were few at best, a few random artefacts gleaned from random places so that he might barter them for money, an Arabian scimitar, taken from some nomadic tribesmen who had gotten in his way two years ago, and from the same time period, the item that had started his quest, a book, the Necrodomo Codex. It was from this book, that he learned the truth, it was from here that he resolved himself to his fate, his destiny.
Walking into the bathroom, he took a look in the mirror, his face was covered with the dust of a very long road-trip, unshaven, looking very much like the rest of him. While he felt that such asthetic hygene was becoming increasingly below him, he knew that he must keep up appearences so that he could stay under the radar of those that would try to stop him from accomplishing his great task. Undressing, he set to showering, shaving and using a pair of scissors left behind by a previous tennant, cutting his hair. Once this was done, he redressed, locked his hotel room door and left the building, to seek information about the mountains to the west.
While the eye gave him a glimpse of future events, his mastery of it was not yet complete and had to do most of the divining work himself. He walked down the streets, looking for a library, or anything that could give him the information he required. Spying a nearby coffee shop, he decided to go inside hoping it would have a computer as a lot of places like that do nowadays. He tucked his pendant into his shirt, keeping the eye hidden from those that may recognize it or it's power.