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Thread: Nexus Character Directory

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    Default Re: Nexus Character Directory

    Terrance 'Stormheart' Valentine
    "Onward, my fellows!"
    Gender: Male

    Race: Human

    Age: 29

    Alignment: Neutral Good

    Class/Profession: Dashing hero

    Power Level: 3

    Description: A mid-height, dashing man who's muscled, but not so much as to appear as if he were violent or a body builder, more like that of a worker or someone who likes BIG weapons. He's got a handsome face with a strong jaw covered in heroic stubble and big brown eyes that just say 'I love life!'. He always carries himself high, and has well kept and swept back mid-length dark brown hair. His skin is slightly tanned, and he doesn't shave his arms, legs, or chest, thinking the hair is heroic looking. He usually wears thick brown adventuring trousers with dark red and gold suspenders and a leather belt with a bronze gear refashioned into a buckle. He wears a loose white button down the front shirt that's usually ruined by the end of an adventure, as well as a good looking leather vest with copper colored trim and a red sash for storing things. He wears high top black boots that have been well shined and thick brown gloves.

    Personality: Eccentric, boisterous, and always ready to get the job done. Not always the smartest man, but definitely not the dumbest. He gets a drunk a little too easily, despite the fact he's been drinking for years, and falls for women with a snap of a finger. He always goes for the more dramatic route, and will do anything in the name of good.

    Equipment: Three triple barreled water sealed flintlock pistols and a packet of iron bullets. A dueling rapier with the Oppenheimer handle. Whatever else Thomas is dumb enough to give him.

    Abilities: Strong and lucky and a hit with the ladies.

    Backstory: Was once a worker on a dock carrying crates onto dirigibles. That's all I've thought of so far.


    Thomas 'Deadeyes' Leauhon
    "They don't call me Deadeyes because of my impeccable aim. They call me Deadeyes because ah the face I made the first time I killed a bloke. And th' time after that. And that. And so an' so forth."
    Alias: The Professor

    Gender: I'm Male, you twit!

    Race: Human

    Age: 47, but looks about 25-30

    Alignment: I don't adhere to such a thing, as it's far too limiting. I do like to think I'm a good person, though. When I can lie to myself well enough.

    Class/Profession: A doctor and an engineer. I fix people up and then give them something to go and hurt other people with.

    Power Rating: 3. Though those idiots all think I'm a 1.

    Description: A tall, skinny, slightly pale man with slept back shiny black hair that covers most of his eyes and ears and a muttonstache. He wears round aviator goggles with red lenses and copper lined lenses and buckles and an attached magnifying glass and an old velvet red officer's cap with a golden L backed by three different sized gears on the front. He wears a brown longcoat with brass threading and buttons and various helpful metal fiddly bits and brown leather gauntlets with several dials and meters attached to him that measure various things around him. He wears loose black trousers tucked into scuffed black boots and an oil stained gray undershirt. He has brown eyes, and usually looks unhappy or discomforted.

    Personality: Cynical, misanthropic, and self-abusive. Can't stand crowds, and doesn't let anyone touch him while anyone else is looking. Acts like he thinks he has something to prove, and seems to have found himself in an existential crisis as of late. Enjoys fixing things, especially people, who tend to be uncomfortable when he's digging around in them for a bullet. Is definite proof that misery loves company. Always looks like he's about to laugh.

    Equipment: A large gun that fires claws on the end of chains that attach themselves to whatever surface they hit, a jade-encrusted rifle with an adjustable scope, a simple hatchet, and several SCIENCE-y things.

    Backstory: Oh, like you'd care to hear it you useless sod.

    Fitzgerald Edgar Coffins
    "Are you hoping for a scrap, sir? Because I am positively ITCHING for one!"
    Alias: Fisteecuffs

    Gender: Male

    Race: Human

    Age: 19

    Alignment: I haven't thought of it, sir, but I do see myself as a good person!

    Class/Profession: Manservant!

    Power rating: 3

    Description: Short, scruffy, and positively beaming. His hands are cased in fancy steel and bronze armor because he broke his fingers several times and Thomas doesn't want it happening again. He wears a scruffy green tweed jacket with leather elbows, a stained white undershirt, messy dark brown corduroy trousers, a battered sheepskin driver's cap, a scratched up silver rimmed monocle, and scuffed up brown loafers.

    Personality: Boisterous, happy, and always looking for a fight to have or a job to do. A little naieve, but thanks to Thomas, knowledgeable as far as book smarts go. Very protective of his friends, and very aware of his surroundings, though bad at reading people's intentions. Likes parties, especially if he gets to serve the food.

    Equipment: Just his hands and a scoped pistol that not even Thomas knows about.

    Abilities: Good in a fistfight and damn near the best cook ever to grace the Nexus.

    Backstory: Has worked for Thomas since he was fifteen.
    Last edited by TechnoScrabble; 2011-07-26 at 12:45 PM.
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