Post by Slifer Harkon Drakk on May 29, 2008 14:41:48 GMT
Name: Slifer Harkon Drakk
Age: 27
Height: Six foot 4 inches
Build: Medium to slim
Power:
Ferrokinetic: Slifer can move metal with his mind. This power is only weak, but it is still an effective power. He controls this mainly with his hands, and as such his fine control weakens if he tries to control a third large object. Normally he can only control metals that contain Iron, but as long as they contain some form of binder similar to Iron then he can control them
Looks: A tall man, his thin and wiry frame seems to threaten to blow away in the wind. Covering his thin shoulders, a dark underlayer of cotton covers his skin while a knee lenght cape is attached over his right shoulder.
His legs, thin as his upper body, are covered by streched and worn leggings fashioned from more cotton, with high leather boots covering the lower half of them. The only decoration to be found on him is on his boots, where twisting silver filligree is etched over a knife holster halfway up the boot.
History: Slifer was born, much like many children in England, slightly unspectacularly. There were no supernova's heralding his birth, no storms wreaking havoc, no tempests laying waste to vast tracts of country just because a small boy had been born in a house somewhere on a wet island to the north of the old world.
He grew, slowly and surely, into a man who held several things dear to his heart. Firstly, he hated Vampires and were-wolves. The things in the dark had haunted his waking moments as a child, and he intended to make them pay for that lost childhood and the lives they had taken in their parasitic existance.
He knew of the spirits of Albion, old ghosts of heros past in battles untold. He could see them, and feel their touch as they brushed apssed him in the glades around his house.
Inevitably, all things must pass and so it came about that Slifer dragged himself from the ruins of his house, blind and bleeding after a suprise attack by the immortal dammed. They had swept down on him, the lonely hermit in the woods because they
Race: Angel
Friends: none yet
Weapons:
Age: 27
Height: Six foot 4 inches
Build: Medium to slim
Power:
Ferrokinetic: Slifer can move metal with his mind. This power is only weak, but it is still an effective power. He controls this mainly with his hands, and as such his fine control weakens if he tries to control a third large object. Normally he can only control metals that contain Iron, but as long as they contain some form of binder similar to Iron then he can control them
Looks: A tall man, his thin and wiry frame seems to threaten to blow away in the wind. Covering his thin shoulders, a dark underlayer of cotton covers his skin while a knee lenght cape is attached over his right shoulder.
His legs, thin as his upper body, are covered by streched and worn leggings fashioned from more cotton, with high leather boots covering the lower half of them. The only decoration to be found on him is on his boots, where twisting silver filligree is etched over a knife holster halfway up the boot.
History: Slifer was born, much like many children in England, slightly unspectacularly. There were no supernova's heralding his birth, no storms wreaking havoc, no tempests laying waste to vast tracts of country just because a small boy had been born in a house somewhere on a wet island to the north of the old world.
He grew, slowly and surely, into a man who held several things dear to his heart. Firstly, he hated Vampires and were-wolves. The things in the dark had haunted his waking moments as a child, and he intended to make them pay for that lost childhood and the lives they had taken in their parasitic existance.
He knew of the spirits of Albion, old ghosts of heros past in battles untold. He could see them, and feel their touch as they brushed apssed him in the glades around his house.
Inevitably, all things must pass and so it came about that Slifer dragged himself from the ruins of his house, blind and bleeding after a suprise attack by the immortal dammed. They had swept down on him, the lonely hermit in the woods because they
Race: Angel
Friends: none yet
Weapons:
