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| Sylvan Ier [done]; Weapon | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 4 2011, 06:01 AM (241 Views) | |
| Sharubii | Mar 4 2011, 06:01 AM Post #1 |
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Fresh Meat
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Character Name: Sylvan Ier [SIL-vuhn AI-er] Age: 17 years Gender: Male Type: Weapon Partnered? No Image: Weapon form Clothing and description: Human Form With a lanky, almost emaciated, body, and relatively long legs, Sylvan resembles a structure made out of chopsticks more than anything else. Or, perhaps a more accurate description would be a skeleton with skin… in any case, he is rather thin. He has very little fat cushioning the spaces between bone and epidermis, and his muscles (though developing) are still scrawny and weak. As such, his pale skin seems to stretch thinly over his bones, defining places where the ridges, joints, and other such protuberances are in his skeletal system. This is shown most prominently on his face, where his cheekbones jut out a bit sharply, making him look like his face is sunken in. Sylvan is about 5' 8'', and sports straight black hair that falls to about mid-neck length. Most days it's unruly, though, and random tufts of hair stick out in wild angles as if in protest of the brush that tries time and time again to tame them. This is due to his nervous habit of scratching at his head (which will be explained later on). His eyes are a deep brown, shading almost to black, which rather accents the supposed hollowness in his face. Being originally from a family of, erm, very low income, he doesn't dress himself extravagantly – if what most of Shibusen's students' battleworn clothing can be called extravagant – and prefers to wear very plain, inexpensive clothing. Most days he can be seen wearing some sort of secondhand solid colored t-shirt, wrinkled and worn from overuse. Most of his pants are long and black, and either too short (so that it stops near the midpoint of his calf) or too long (so that he nearly trips over them while walking). His footwear consists of stained white sneakers, used for so long that even the soles are starting to wear thin and water is able to penetrate to his feet. Weapon Form Sylvan can transform into a poleaxe, a weapon with a long shaft and an axe head at one end of it. The shaft is made of sturdy, dark wood, beset in the middle by a grooved metal grip. It is about four feet in length. Down to the end of one side of the pole is the actual axe head: it is made of steel and closely resembles many other axe heads made specifically for battle, except the side with the curved blade is relatively small, and a bayonet-like blade extends from the tip of the shaft to a good five inches before coming to a sharp point at its tip. The other end of the shaft – the end without the axe head – is blunt and good for knocking the wind out of an opponent. History: Sylvan never lived in a prosperous family. When he was born – the third child and final child in a family of five – his parents were living in a shabby, unimpressive apartment somewhere in the middle of Canada. His father worked fulltime in a textiles factory, while his mother needed to stay home in order to tend to his older brother, sister, and him. It was an incredibly strenuous life for each of the adults (the kids mainly complained about being hungry), and their lives never really did improve, even with all the blood, sweat, and tears they put into raising both their money and their children. Growing up, Sylvan could remember his classmates avoiding him because of his ragged, dirty look and the fact that he smelled like old laundry. Not many children approached him, and when they did, it was because a teacher forced them to; the same went for each of his siblings, and complain as they'd like, adults could only do so much when the kids looked more willing to shove crayons down their throat than to play with them. Sure, he and his siblings had occasional playmates, but the periods of play with them were usually very short and full of the playmate making faces at them. At home, though, Sylvan and his brother and sister would go out to the street to play, usually kicking around a big rubber ball to each other. Because of those circumstances, they became each others' best friends and gradually forgot about the other students in the elementary school. Before Sylvan had finished his years in the elementary school, the Ier family's budget became much too tight to afford school necessities like notebooks and lined paper, and he and his siblings were regretfully withdrawn from the school system. When asked one day why they were not to get ready for school anymore, Mrs. Ier shook her head and explained the situation: her husband, their father, had just had his pay reduced due to an accident with a machine (wherein he accidentally ruined an entire load of textiles), and the family could now only spend money on the absolutely necessary: food and shelter. To reduce the shock of the situation, though, she had smiled and said in a soothing voice, "Don't worry, everything will be okay." And so they believed it to be true. For awhile, the Ier family coped well enough, though Sylvan's mother had to find a job herself to help support the family. She had hoped that getting a job restocking shelves in a grocery store would bump up the family's income enough to at least be able to admit one of her children back into school – the pay, however, wasn't enough, and the children often found themselves alone in the apartment while both their father and mother worked to support them. They had been given strict instructions not to leave the apartment, so they often whiled away the hours by sitting idly and chatting about nothing, or attempting to play ball inside the cramped conditions, then stopping after yet another close call with the desk lamp. When the oldest, Sylvan's brother, became legal age, he went into grocery bagging; likewise with his sister, though she became a waitress in a sleazy bar that reeked of vomit. Sylvan's first encounter with transforming came when he was at that particular bar, slumped over his chair and waiting for the clock to tick on by. Because his parents didn't think their youngest boy – though fifteen at the time – should be left at home alone, his sister often brought him to her workplace (not like that was any safer). Her boss never protested against it. Sylvan had been staring at the clock hanging up on the wall, sighing remorsefully and wondering when they would be able to get out of the dingy place, when he heard his sister shrieking off to the side. When he looked over, alarmed, he saw a drunken man groping at her, despite her squeals and the manager's monotonous grunts to stop. Overcome with shock, he didn't do anything at first; then, with an uncharacteristic flare of anger, he jumped off his seat and shouted at the man to stop. When the man only spat in his direction, Sylvan walked up to him and – raising his fist – swung at the man's neck. It was only when the man slumped forward and fell to the ground that Sylvan realized that his fist had somehow turned into a strangely-shaped axe head. By then, his sister had given him a positively frightened look and escaped the bar altogether. He had to walk home alone, after an exchange with the manager – where the grubby man had promised not to call the police if he would never return to the bar again. When he arrived home, night was descending; as such, both his parents were home, sweaty and tired after a hard day's work. They seemed deep in conversation with Sylvan's sister, who took off almost immediately after Sylvan entered the apartment – without a second glance at her, both of Sylvan's parents beckoned him over to have a discussion or sorts. They told him why his hand had turned into a weapon, and the properties of magic weapons; they explained that he wasn't a demon, like his sister seemed intent on seeing him as; and finally, about how it seemed "the right course of action" to send him to Shibusen, an academy for weapons like him and meisters to learn combat skills and other such things. They then turned into their own weapon forms, after a quick glance to confirm that neither older brother nor older sister were watching, then sent Sylvan off to bed without another word or thought. They were, it seemed, completely set on him going to the academy, and started working overtime to gather up enough funds to send him off, telling his siblings to do the same. His brother was puzzled, but complied after a resigned sigh; his sister, however, complained loudly that "the demon" shouldn't be doted on by his family. Their father slapped her, but Sylvan's feelings were already hurt by her words. Work as they might, the Ier family didn't gather enough money for two good years, and by that time even Sylvan was working. When they'd scraped enough cash to send him off to Death City (and to rent out a small living space and such), they gave him the money and sent him on his way, all calling a tearful goodbye except for his sister, who only turned her back on him. After a few whispered good lucks and well wishes, Sylvan turned his own back to his family and traveled to Death City, where he procured a near-microscopic apartment, scraped off a living by doing odd jobs, and – most important of all – enrolled in Shibusen. Just like what his parents wanted him to do. Personality: Sylvan is a quiet boy, given to isolating himself from others and interacting with others only when he is approached. It isn't a matter of him being antisocial or shy, really – it's just that, after his elementary school years he was pretty convinced that others wouldn't appreciate him butting in on their lives, or his smell (even though he does take regular showers now). The only people he's ever reall opened up to in the past would be his family, so it's unsure how he would act if he were to make a close friend or two. Having been deprived of basic education while he was still young, Sylvan can be – for want of a better word – a bit dimwitted and slow at times. He doesn't much understand the workings of such things as a dishwasher, and is often astonished and awed by the presence of such "advanced" technology. He does, however, have a strong desire to learn, and even though he has to study three times as hard as his fellow students (and do additional research to make sense of the material besides), he throws himself into the studies with an iron will. In combat, he's rather timid, always afraid that he'll hurt or kill somebody, like that man years back. The memory constantly haunts him, as does the memory of his sister's sudden change in attitude with him; after connecting the two events, he more or less concluded that if he hurt other people, no matter how evil, there will always be someone to hate him for it. This almost always results in him feebly jabbing at his opponent with his partial transformation, then dancing (or perhaps tripping?) backwards in an attempt to keep from getting hurt himself. Sylvan also has a habit of scratching at random places on his head when he's nervous, a practice that more or less started after his sister started glaring at him behind his back. After turning around to notice her a few times, the back of his neck always started prickling and he would look back whenever he did – even if there was nobody there. After awhile, he'd learned to relieve the feelings of anxiety by scratching his scalp, though how that relieves it is anybody's guess. The habit stuck to him even after leaving for Death City, and as a result his hair is often disheveled and unruly. Abilities: Technique Name: Full Transformation Effects/Description: Sylvan transforms into his poleaxe form. It consists of a four foot long, dark brown, wooden shaft, topped with a steel axe head. The crescent-edged part of the axe is small, but the dagger-like blade protruding from the end of the shaft more than makes up for its skimpiness in weapon area. Technique Name: Partial Transformation Effects/Description: Still being relatively new to transformation, Sylvan is incredibly unused to transforming partially, and it may take some time for him to succeed. During partial transformation, his left forearm transforms into the crescent-edged part of the axe head (outward, almost like a wing), while his right forearm morphs into the sharp blade that tips his poleaxe form. As of yet, he is unable to transform one arm while keeping the other in its normal state. Combat Style: As he is in untried in battle, Sylvan has a sort of timid attempt-to-hit-then-run-like-hell technique he uses while practicing: he attempts a weak stab, then literally stumbles clumsily away from his opponent's counterstrikes in order to keep from being hurt by them. He has no concept of technique, so it can be assumed that in a desperate struggle he'll flail around like a berserker – paying no mind to where he or his opponent is prone to attacks and swiping and striking wildly until he gets tired. Miscellaneous Information: He strongly dislikes rice because it's what his family usually ate during mealtimes – just plain rice. Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Roleplay Sample: "...are you kidding me?" The professor clucked his tongue and shook his head in disappointment, at the same time using the metal rod he'd been grasping to deflect Sylvan's feeble attacks. It was hardly a workout for him – no, actually, it was hardly a warmup – and he attempted to make his feelings show plainly across his big, broad face. "Are you even trying, boy?" He twisted the rod around to parry his pupil's jab, then with a grunt swung it up and out in front of him. He watched as the thin boy lost his balance and fell to the ground. "I do hope," the professor said, stabbing one end of the rod into the ground and leaning against it, "that you're not actually trying right now. Surely you're just goofing around?" He raised a bushy eyebrow and waited expectantly for the student's answer. Sylvan, his right forearm still a wicked blade and his left arm still sporting the axe, hunched his shoulders and stared at his knees, the thin line of his lips pulling downward in a faint frown. With his skin, hair, and worn clothes beset by dust and his gaunt face shadowed by his bangs, he looked quite the pitiful guy. "I'm sorry," he said in a barely audible whisper, the fingers of his left hand clamped together in a fist. There was a moment or two of silence – when the professor seemed sure that Sylvan would say no more, he sighed and rubbed his face. "What am I going to do with you?" He heaved another sigh, then yanked the metal rod free from the dirt, and took on a battle-ready stance once again. "Come at me again." Sylvan didn't move his head, but he flickered his eyes up to look at the teacher. "What…?" "Come at me again." Sylvan opened his mouth as if to protest, but only a tiny sound escaped through his lips. He then closed it and gritted his teeth; then, using his right arm as a lever, he hefted himself up and stared warily at the professor. "…we've been doing this for awhile. It's almost sunset." He bit his lip against saying, I think we should stop. The man in front of him was the instructor, not him. The professor grinned slightly, and raised the rod a quarter of an inch. "I'm very much aware of that," he rumbled, "but we'll still do 'this' for awhile yet. If you want out, then do 'this' right. Now, have at me." Sylvan swallowed at a sudden lump in his throat, and gave a small, jerky nod. When he raised his arms, he realized they were trembling – from fatigue or nervousness? – and he willed them to stop. Then, with a strangled yell, he lunged at the professor again, swinging his axe arm. "Come on, kid," the professor mumbled distractedly, "show me what you got." Edited by Sharubii, Mar 5 2011, 05:09 AM.
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Character(s): Sylvan Ier | |
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| Shinigami | Mar 5 2011, 05:06 AM Post #2 |
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Welcome to 42! It was a pleasure to read your character profile ^^ It was excellently written and very clearly outlines who he is, what he can do and how he became who he is today. There is just 1 small modification I have to make ^^ In your partial transformation it sounds like he 'grows' part of his weapon form out of his arm. Could you make sure that his body transforms rather than gains? It is just that in the soul eater manga Demon Weapons need to transforrms, while it is an ability of a DeathScythe to grow the weapon in addition to their body :3 Other than that, excellent profile! I should also mention that while not canonical in the slightest, many RPers assume that Shibusen gives them reward money for finishing missions :3 In Soul Eater NOT! They are also given $200 every 2 weeks for food and rent. |
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| Sharubii | Mar 5 2011, 05:13 AM Post #3 |
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Fresh Meat
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Thank you for the welcome; I'm glad to be here! Ah, alright then, edited -- sorry, wasn't aware of that. x3 And what I meant by "odd jobs" is basically like, random housekeeping around the area to whoever would be willing to hire him, and other such things. xD I didn't mean that he gained money by killing people/investigating/etc for Shibusen. |
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Character(s): Sylvan Ier | |
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| Shinigami | Mar 5 2011, 05:21 AM Post #4 |
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Excellent! It's my pleasure to approve this character! I just thought I should mention the extra money people get from completing missions as it appears yours is rather lacking in it Having him do odd jobs sounds like a great way to interact with other characters in and around Death City ^^Start Rping whenever you like~~ |
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8:20 AM Jul 11
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Having him do odd jobs sounds like a great way to interact with other characters in and around Death City ^^
8:20 AM Jul 11