Post by Melodia on Dec 30, 2007 2:42:44 GMT -5
Name: Bobby K.
Gender: Male
Age (approx.): 19
Appearance: Fairly tall, about 5”11. He has a thin composure with slightly lean, toned muscles. His skin is pale, ghostly-white at night. His face is slightly narrow. Bobby’s hair is a dark brown, almost black. On the right side of his head it is shaved closely (but not all the way) with a thin strand in the back (like a mullet). The right side he grew it out long, past his shoulders, and it’s heavily braided into tight, thin strands that he never takes out.
Past: He grew up in a small village in the province of Arbet. It is nestled in the hills, spotted in trees and almost always plunged in gloom. It was once a village big on witchcraft, and there are still rumors of a few followers. He was mostly raised by his mother. But this is his story:
Bobby grew up with the ideal life. His family had a little three-room cottage in the village. He had many friends and neighbors, seeing as everyone there was practically family. His mother and father got along, and he got along with them. Bobby would help his mother cook dinner, occasionally toss a worn-out ball with his dad. But when he was eleven, everything changed. His mother and father started yelling, screaming, and he would lie in bed awake just listening each night. And then one day his father left.
Bobby was torn. He sobbed quietly when his mother wasn’t around. At dinner they were silent. Everything he knew was unraveling at the seams. So, one night, he knelt beside his bed. And in the warm glow of a candle light, he prayed. But not to any holy figure or spirits; to his ancestors, known witches and highly respected when they were alive. He asked them, begged them, to bring his family back together, and to provide he and his mother with the strength to get through it.
His father never returned.
But something did happen. You see, Bobby was an emotional boy—that’s what happens when you’re torn from a seemingly "perfect" (at least to him) lifestyle into a dark one. He fell asleep that night on the floor, his head spinning until the candle went out. In his dreams he heard a woman singing, softly, lulling him into his first restful slumber in days:
“His emotional curses will become his powers,
Four different forms rise in his heart’s darkest hours.”
The next day, while collecting firewood, he decided to go on a run. Running was easy and straight forward and helped to clear his mind. Well, on that run his heart gave out. He collapsed, his hand clawing the dirt as he tried to suck in air. He was eleven. It was as though his heart had exploded, sending tiny needles shooting down his body and racking it with pain until he passed out. When he woke up, it was hours later and he heard his mothers worried voice calling for him.
Later on, he noticed a decoration on his arm. A tattoo, bore into his skin on his right shoulder the likeness of a unicorn. Pure white, almost luminescent against his fair skin. Later he learned that, through a painful process which he would later master, he could change into this creature of legends. Bobby knew it was his ancestors, answering his plea in a somewhat twisted manner. His heart hurt from his father leaving—the unicorn could heal.
Just like the soft, two-lined poem in his dreams, at each turning point of maturity he was granted a new form. At fifteen he almost killed a boy during a fight. He transformed into the unicorn and healed his enemy, then ran away before anyone else could see (he didn’t want people to think had had taken up the ways of witchcraft). He collapsed again, this time awakening with a brilliant phoenix, entwining with the unicorn on his right arm. The phoenix didn’t die, but was re-born from his own ashes.
The third came at eighteen. Two thieves broke into their house while they ate dinner and held his mother at knife point. Bobby fell to the floor and shuddered. He remembered one of them laughing, “Goin’ ta die and we didn’t even ‘ave to touch him.” But he prevailed, managing to stay conscious and take on the third form all at once. He rose up, up! with massive, black claws and eyes the color of amber, scales the hue of black emerald and a row of sharp teeth. Straight through the roof he went, a dragon, crashing through the shingles and letting debris fly every which way. The thevies ran, and he was stuck fixing the roof.
His mother had known about his gift/curse since its beginning (how could you now notice a collection of tattoos on your son’s arm?) and found it quite charming. Their bond grew closer than ever. But soon the dragon-stint rumors spread around the village. Bobby’s mother, not wanting her gossip-loving neighbors to poke and pry at her son, packed him a bag and told him to, humorously, find himself a wife and made him promise to come back and visit.
And so, armed with clothes and camping gear and, oh yeah! three magical transformations at his aid, Bobby’s (as we like to say here at Disney) adventures had only begun!
Personality: He’s not a bad guy. Very much a gentlemen, seeing as he grew up with his mother. He loves fighting as much as the practicing it requires, and has spent countless hours mastering transformations. He likes company and yet being alone is just as well to him…yeah. That’s about it.
Current Life: Traveler.
Pet (if any): None
Other: He still has one transformation left. I just wanted to point out that each form has some tie to the heart/emotions-
Unicorn = heal the unwell, the depressed and the sick
Phoenix = the responsibility of death
Dragon = the urge to protect, anger, pride
?? = ??
Gender: Male
Age (approx.): 19
Appearance: Fairly tall, about 5”11. He has a thin composure with slightly lean, toned muscles. His skin is pale, ghostly-white at night. His face is slightly narrow. Bobby’s hair is a dark brown, almost black. On the right side of his head it is shaved closely (but not all the way) with a thin strand in the back (like a mullet). The right side he grew it out long, past his shoulders, and it’s heavily braided into tight, thin strands that he never takes out.
Past: He grew up in a small village in the province of Arbet. It is nestled in the hills, spotted in trees and almost always plunged in gloom. It was once a village big on witchcraft, and there are still rumors of a few followers. He was mostly raised by his mother. But this is his story:
Bobby grew up with the ideal life. His family had a little three-room cottage in the village. He had many friends and neighbors, seeing as everyone there was practically family. His mother and father got along, and he got along with them. Bobby would help his mother cook dinner, occasionally toss a worn-out ball with his dad. But when he was eleven, everything changed. His mother and father started yelling, screaming, and he would lie in bed awake just listening each night. And then one day his father left.
Bobby was torn. He sobbed quietly when his mother wasn’t around. At dinner they were silent. Everything he knew was unraveling at the seams. So, one night, he knelt beside his bed. And in the warm glow of a candle light, he prayed. But not to any holy figure or spirits; to his ancestors, known witches and highly respected when they were alive. He asked them, begged them, to bring his family back together, and to provide he and his mother with the strength to get through it.
His father never returned.
But something did happen. You see, Bobby was an emotional boy—that’s what happens when you’re torn from a seemingly "perfect" (at least to him) lifestyle into a dark one. He fell asleep that night on the floor, his head spinning until the candle went out. In his dreams he heard a woman singing, softly, lulling him into his first restful slumber in days:
“His emotional curses will become his powers,
Four different forms rise in his heart’s darkest hours.”
The next day, while collecting firewood, he decided to go on a run. Running was easy and straight forward and helped to clear his mind. Well, on that run his heart gave out. He collapsed, his hand clawing the dirt as he tried to suck in air. He was eleven. It was as though his heart had exploded, sending tiny needles shooting down his body and racking it with pain until he passed out. When he woke up, it was hours later and he heard his mothers worried voice calling for him.
Later on, he noticed a decoration on his arm. A tattoo, bore into his skin on his right shoulder the likeness of a unicorn. Pure white, almost luminescent against his fair skin. Later he learned that, through a painful process which he would later master, he could change into this creature of legends. Bobby knew it was his ancestors, answering his plea in a somewhat twisted manner. His heart hurt from his father leaving—the unicorn could heal.
Just like the soft, two-lined poem in his dreams, at each turning point of maturity he was granted a new form. At fifteen he almost killed a boy during a fight. He transformed into the unicorn and healed his enemy, then ran away before anyone else could see (he didn’t want people to think had had taken up the ways of witchcraft). He collapsed again, this time awakening with a brilliant phoenix, entwining with the unicorn on his right arm. The phoenix didn’t die, but was re-born from his own ashes.
The third came at eighteen. Two thieves broke into their house while they ate dinner and held his mother at knife point. Bobby fell to the floor and shuddered. He remembered one of them laughing, “Goin’ ta die and we didn’t even ‘ave to touch him.” But he prevailed, managing to stay conscious and take on the third form all at once. He rose up, up! with massive, black claws and eyes the color of amber, scales the hue of black emerald and a row of sharp teeth. Straight through the roof he went, a dragon, crashing through the shingles and letting debris fly every which way. The thevies ran, and he was stuck fixing the roof.
His mother had known about his gift/curse since its beginning (how could you now notice a collection of tattoos on your son’s arm?) and found it quite charming. Their bond grew closer than ever. But soon the dragon-stint rumors spread around the village. Bobby’s mother, not wanting her gossip-loving neighbors to poke and pry at her son, packed him a bag and told him to, humorously, find himself a wife and made him promise to come back and visit.
And so, armed with clothes and camping gear and, oh yeah! three magical transformations at his aid, Bobby’s (as we like to say here at Disney) adventures had only begun!
Personality: He’s not a bad guy. Very much a gentlemen, seeing as he grew up with his mother. He loves fighting as much as the practicing it requires, and has spent countless hours mastering transformations. He likes company and yet being alone is just as well to him…yeah. That’s about it.
Current Life: Traveler.
Pet (if any): None
Other: He still has one transformation left. I just wanted to point out that each form has some tie to the heart/emotions-
Unicorn = heal the unwell, the depressed and the sick
Phoenix = the responsibility of death
Dragon = the urge to protect, anger, pride
?? = ??
