Post by Nicho on May 28, 2005 9:20:51 GMT -5
Name: Nicholette
Refered to as: Nicho
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes: Dark
Skin: white
Society:
Personality: Socipathic, disterbed potentially dangerous to herself and others. Haunted by demons who she thinks her leading her on to a life of fullment and bliss. She will do everything to try and come to thier demands.
Apperance: Simple, average teenage girl. Baggy unflattering clothes.
Past:She remembers it as a normal childhood with average family, she thinks she enjoyed growing up. Yet those memories are fakes, to cover up the trauma she's suffered. She had been kept in a high security Psychiatric hospital since the age of 12. The recent change of the world allowed her to be free once again. She does not remember her time in the hospital as she spent it heavily sedated.
Weapons:
www.ccmilitarysurplus.com/supplyroom/images/fg-machete.jpg
www.uncp.edu/home/vanderhoof/graphics/CopKillerBullet3.jpg
www.geocities.com/versetrue/45.jpg
Pictures:
RP-ing Skills --->
(i love this!!)
Disaster was written in scarlet ink. Scribbling on the walls and scrawled upon the floors. Imprints of many scarred the dirty, dusty ground. Blood, flesh and bone mingled in the mounds of dust, scores of stories scratched into the wood. DNA; that double helix left in the smeared traces of fingertips. The filth it irritates and chokes my lungs slowly suffocating me. My shoes are scuffing the grime, layers of time marking my soles. A foreign bubble of laughter explodes in the air, twisting and curling as it escapes my throat in a triumph of obsessive freedom and the liberty to just express ones thoughts openly with out it turning into a witch hunt. There is the pallid gleam of my perfect smile, front teeth just catching whatever light had managed to find its way into the room. I’m sure even the light should regret ever allowing itself to glisten, no longer proud on the flesh carpeting the floor.
I’ve turned a corner. Grown up all glorious. For now I understand. Understand why I’ve followed the tails of their treacherous cloaks round corner after corner. Dealt with the slice of their fingers on my neck pulling me onwards towards a destiny of pure genius and the taste of glory when even the mighty regard you as god. The meager mortal is just a fleck and number in your armies. Blood flows as water in the rivers, the banks laden with the beauty of death and the villages seep the heavy stench of carnage to those who laugh in arrogance or unwisely.
Such an obvious beauty at first glance, soft expression much like a day dream or trance. Dark long locks coiling down her back and draping her shoulder in some sort of fashion. The gentle slope of her shoulders leading away into the slender arms, carried loosely by her waist. Her stride is comfortable and easy going reflecting her emotional state; she was neither scared nor rushed in the gloomy room. Her age was indefinite but most likely in the mature years of adolescence; the weight of adulthood loomed so near. Her clothes are loose fitting, a pair of hardy rugged looking jeans and a large black t-shirt unflattering to her slight figure.
She wishes to hide nothing, to conceal was something people do when they are scared. She was not; her hand gun glistened proudly around her waist resting in its holster. Black talon bullets had become illegal; she kept the only few left in the world, though now she was not sure about how the demands of law affected her anymore. This bullet was chosen for one main reason, the destruction it caused. No exit wound was left as shrapnel exploded piercing and tearing up the insides to shreds. Made a satisfying kill. Also, rather simply, was a machete its blade undemanding but it kept hold of that flicker of an eye for more than a moment on its inviting edge.
I am a dreamer; they always told me that dreaming of big things rather than doing them would get me no where. I personally think they were wrong. Maybe I’m dreaming now as my body feels numb, the sensation of floating forwards is rather a peculiar one even I admit. They’ve brought me here for reasons of course, they always have reasons. I just don’t know them yet. I would never dare question them again, they are always right and I enjoy the site of engrossing corpses that surround me. No they are not where they are by my hand, something else got here first. Something which I would like to see for myself, the hunter in blood soaked glory. My leader and master, the one who can teach things I only dream of.
The girl had announced her arrival quite clearly, although her footsteps made no sound on the floor for it was thick with mahogany grime that cushioned the fall of her confident stride. The laughter still rang out bouncing triumphantly off the solid walls you could even hear the slight chirp of merry song in the midst of the cheerful chortles “A leg and a wing….” The lyrics unclear and distorted “… To see the king… That’s only supposing it is male hahaharrrr” It was high pitched and very false. Her eyes dark and enticing to look at flickered suddenly to the far end of the dark room, her laughter stopped and body froze. She stood glaring as the shadow of another grew from around the corner. Flawless lips began to curl into a content smile that leaned on her pale cheeks.
Refered to as: Nicho
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes: Dark
Skin: white
Society:
Personality: Socipathic, disterbed potentially dangerous to herself and others. Haunted by demons who she thinks her leading her on to a life of fullment and bliss. She will do everything to try and come to thier demands.
Apperance: Simple, average teenage girl. Baggy unflattering clothes.
Past:She remembers it as a normal childhood with average family, she thinks she enjoyed growing up. Yet those memories are fakes, to cover up the trauma she's suffered. She had been kept in a high security Psychiatric hospital since the age of 12. The recent change of the world allowed her to be free once again. She does not remember her time in the hospital as she spent it heavily sedated.
Weapons:
www.ccmilitarysurplus.com/supplyroom/images/fg-machete.jpg
www.uncp.edu/home/vanderhoof/graphics/CopKillerBullet3.jpg
www.geocities.com/versetrue/45.jpg
Pictures:
RP-ing Skills --->
(i love this!!)
Disaster was written in scarlet ink. Scribbling on the walls and scrawled upon the floors. Imprints of many scarred the dirty, dusty ground. Blood, flesh and bone mingled in the mounds of dust, scores of stories scratched into the wood. DNA; that double helix left in the smeared traces of fingertips. The filth it irritates and chokes my lungs slowly suffocating me. My shoes are scuffing the grime, layers of time marking my soles. A foreign bubble of laughter explodes in the air, twisting and curling as it escapes my throat in a triumph of obsessive freedom and the liberty to just express ones thoughts openly with out it turning into a witch hunt. There is the pallid gleam of my perfect smile, front teeth just catching whatever light had managed to find its way into the room. I’m sure even the light should regret ever allowing itself to glisten, no longer proud on the flesh carpeting the floor.
I’ve turned a corner. Grown up all glorious. For now I understand. Understand why I’ve followed the tails of their treacherous cloaks round corner after corner. Dealt with the slice of their fingers on my neck pulling me onwards towards a destiny of pure genius and the taste of glory when even the mighty regard you as god. The meager mortal is just a fleck and number in your armies. Blood flows as water in the rivers, the banks laden with the beauty of death and the villages seep the heavy stench of carnage to those who laugh in arrogance or unwisely.
Such an obvious beauty at first glance, soft expression much like a day dream or trance. Dark long locks coiling down her back and draping her shoulder in some sort of fashion. The gentle slope of her shoulders leading away into the slender arms, carried loosely by her waist. Her stride is comfortable and easy going reflecting her emotional state; she was neither scared nor rushed in the gloomy room. Her age was indefinite but most likely in the mature years of adolescence; the weight of adulthood loomed so near. Her clothes are loose fitting, a pair of hardy rugged looking jeans and a large black t-shirt unflattering to her slight figure.
She wishes to hide nothing, to conceal was something people do when they are scared. She was not; her hand gun glistened proudly around her waist resting in its holster. Black talon bullets had become illegal; she kept the only few left in the world, though now she was not sure about how the demands of law affected her anymore. This bullet was chosen for one main reason, the destruction it caused. No exit wound was left as shrapnel exploded piercing and tearing up the insides to shreds. Made a satisfying kill. Also, rather simply, was a machete its blade undemanding but it kept hold of that flicker of an eye for more than a moment on its inviting edge.
I am a dreamer; they always told me that dreaming of big things rather than doing them would get me no where. I personally think they were wrong. Maybe I’m dreaming now as my body feels numb, the sensation of floating forwards is rather a peculiar one even I admit. They’ve brought me here for reasons of course, they always have reasons. I just don’t know them yet. I would never dare question them again, they are always right and I enjoy the site of engrossing corpses that surround me. No they are not where they are by my hand, something else got here first. Something which I would like to see for myself, the hunter in blood soaked glory. My leader and master, the one who can teach things I only dream of.
The girl had announced her arrival quite clearly, although her footsteps made no sound on the floor for it was thick with mahogany grime that cushioned the fall of her confident stride. The laughter still rang out bouncing triumphantly off the solid walls you could even hear the slight chirp of merry song in the midst of the cheerful chortles “A leg and a wing….” The lyrics unclear and distorted “… To see the king… That’s only supposing it is male hahaharrrr” It was high pitched and very false. Her eyes dark and enticing to look at flickered suddenly to the far end of the dark room, her laughter stopped and body froze. She stood glaring as the shadow of another grew from around the corner. Flawless lips began to curl into a content smile that leaned on her pale cheeks.