Name: Anzekay
Race: Generic (Unknown)
Sex: Male
Starting Planet: Earth
Profession: None.
Fighting Style: Quiet and reserved, Anzekay's fighting stances give away no obvious preferences for combat at first glance, but that is more than intended; it is needed for his tactics to work. Short, fast, brutal assaults are the mainstay of his arsenal, recklessly leaving behind any concept of defense and instead relying on his raw power and teleportation abilities to prey upon the moments of hesitation and weakness he spots in an opponent's defence. While he never opts for a sneak attack from the shadows, he considers any drop in a fighter's alertness to be a free opportunity to attack, and will never let an enemy drop their guard without suffering an assault.
Some might say his brute force style attacks are predictable, or that his lack of defensive capacity will wear him down if matched with an opponent that can catch him. But either a sense of stubborn pride, or just a complete lack of understanding, leads him to rarely learn from past mistakes or to shore up the holes in his patterns.
Short Bio: Heralding from a place rarely heard of, and that he can barely remember, Anzekay has been a wanderer and traveller for a considerable portion of his memory. Whether he is chasing something, or being chased himself, are two questions he will never answer. What he will say, however, is that his thirst for the journey has not yet been sated.
General Description: Standing a reasonable six feet tall, Anzekay's appearance is roughly that of Human Male, though the odd difference in bone structure is visible to an eye that is familiar with human anatomy; hardened bone stubs on the inside of the shoulder blades, and increased bone mass in the limbs and digits.
He is a very obvious albino. Snow white hair, bright pink eyes that glow a rich red in bright light, skin paler than milk and an aversion to direct sunlight all herald his condition. His garb is the polar opposite, as he wears a long coat of patchwork dark hues ranging from purple to blue to orange, fastened in the middle with a row of white buttons. A pair of tight leather gloves hang from a loop on the jacket, dangling just above the brown leather saddlebag he keeps strapped across from one shoulder.
While not usually visable, his body from navel down is covered with a complex series of very thin and very faint tattoos.
Starting Abilities: Dark Ki, Combat Teleportation
Trait: Tenacious
Stats:
Strength - 35%
Focus - 40%
Endurance - 1%
Agility - 24%
Role-play Sample:
It was something about the swaying of the train that brought memories of that familiar melody. Perhaps the click of the wheels bumping over the sleepers below hitting just the right beat, or the whistle of wind through a crack in the window dredging up a long forgotten tune, maybe it was just the feeling of moving. It was an old tune, something he hadn’t heard outside of his own thoughts for longer than he could remember, a part of times left far behind. Sifting through foggy pictures he could scarcely find the face that had first sung it to him.
He wasn’t sure if it was an old hymn- something heard in passing through a town where people of faith dwelt- or just an old song hummed and quietly sung by people who felt much older than he. It was a travelling song, or at least it reminded him of travelling. The words were elusive; darting around his heard just out of his reach. But that mattered little; it was just the feelings that truly mattered in music.
It was a reminder that he was never where he belonged, forever out of his element. Always chasing, or fleeing from, things he never really understood. This world, like others, was not his home; for he was merely passing through.
A sudden jolt snapped him out of the moment of reflection and back into the world around him.
The train had stopped. Passengers were shuffling past him in their eagerness to exit the cramped, musky, carriage. Men in suits with their black briefcases, children with their bright laughs and tiny bags running between the legs of their elders in their rush to school, the occasional elderly man or woman creaking their way to the doors. He couldn’t help but almost chuckle (suppressed, of course) as he turned towards the exit to watch them passively fight each other to be the first out the door as it opened.
It was just a handful of seconds and the train continued on, its load just that bit lighter now. He shifted slightly in his seat, turning his face back to his lap to, perhaps, doze a little while he waited for the train to finally reach his stop.
“Mummy, look!”
He was greeted not with his own lap, but a finger jabbing at his face a few centimetres away from the tip of his nose. A small boy, face turned towards his mother across the aisle, triumphantly bounced on his toes as he realised the man he was so interested in had noticed him. His mother was half out of her seat, her brow furrowed in obvious maternal concern as she sternly called out to him.
“Tommy! Come back here at once! Leave the poor man alone.”
The boy’s arm snapped back to his side like a deflated balloon. Clearly abashed, he scurried away to the seat beside his mother, but not without a quick glance back, a look of longing wonder in his eyes.
He felt weary, that sinking sensation of regret sinking into him mixed with a healthy dose of déjà vu, penetrating down to the bone.
Not now.
He shook his head and turned his eyes back to the woman sitting across and down from him on the other side of the train. His heart leapt to his mouth for a beat, his lips feeling heavy and dry, and his voice screaming to stay at home.
“Your son is a brave one, ma’am; you shouldn’t childe him for curiosity. Children will always marvel at something they have not seen before. But, I can understand your worry; just look around, you are not the only one to think me strange. That’s just how life is for an albino”
With those last words he spread his arms wide, gesturing to the empty seats that went down half the carriage. Cold seats; seats unused since he had sat down on the train. As he had walked in he could feel theirs eyes on him, curious, fearful, and taunting. This was normal, and he never let it bother him, it didn’t matter where he was or where he was going. It was just always the same.
She held his gaze for a moment, and then looked away as her cheeks flushed red. She knew what he meant; as she was thinking the same thing as all the rest. Any moment now she would gather up her child and scurry down the carriage away from him, fearing what would happen if her son wandered too close to this man. With a quiet sigh, he dipped his head toward his lap again and closed his eyes; nothing more to see here.
He felt the breath on his neck before he even heard a sound. It was light and soft and without a single taste of malice. It was innocence in vapour form. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that the child had leaned up to his ear, and he caught his breath as he waited for the words.
“I don’t think you’re scary, mister.”
A smile crept along his lips, and it was all he could do to keep himself from laughing. Bested by a child. Sweet, innocent words from a kid was all that was needed to pierce the cynicism he was wallowing in.
He looked up, and was greeted by a slight smile from the lady down the aisle before she quietly spoke again.
“From the mouth of babes, they say.”
Race: Generic (Unknown)
Sex: Male
Starting Planet: Earth
Profession: None.
Fighting Style: Quiet and reserved, Anzekay's fighting stances give away no obvious preferences for combat at first glance, but that is more than intended; it is needed for his tactics to work. Short, fast, brutal assaults are the mainstay of his arsenal, recklessly leaving behind any concept of defense and instead relying on his raw power and teleportation abilities to prey upon the moments of hesitation and weakness he spots in an opponent's defence. While he never opts for a sneak attack from the shadows, he considers any drop in a fighter's alertness to be a free opportunity to attack, and will never let an enemy drop their guard without suffering an assault.
Some might say his brute force style attacks are predictable, or that his lack of defensive capacity will wear him down if matched with an opponent that can catch him. But either a sense of stubborn pride, or just a complete lack of understanding, leads him to rarely learn from past mistakes or to shore up the holes in his patterns.
Short Bio: Heralding from a place rarely heard of, and that he can barely remember, Anzekay has been a wanderer and traveller for a considerable portion of his memory. Whether he is chasing something, or being chased himself, are two questions he will never answer. What he will say, however, is that his thirst for the journey has not yet been sated.
General Description: Standing a reasonable six feet tall, Anzekay's appearance is roughly that of Human Male, though the odd difference in bone structure is visible to an eye that is familiar with human anatomy; hardened bone stubs on the inside of the shoulder blades, and increased bone mass in the limbs and digits.
He is a very obvious albino. Snow white hair, bright pink eyes that glow a rich red in bright light, skin paler than milk and an aversion to direct sunlight all herald his condition. His garb is the polar opposite, as he wears a long coat of patchwork dark hues ranging from purple to blue to orange, fastened in the middle with a row of white buttons. A pair of tight leather gloves hang from a loop on the jacket, dangling just above the brown leather saddlebag he keeps strapped across from one shoulder.
While not usually visable, his body from navel down is covered with a complex series of very thin and very faint tattoos.
Starting Abilities: Dark Ki, Combat Teleportation
Trait: Tenacious
Stats:
Strength - 35%
Focus - 40%
Endurance - 1%
Agility - 24%
Role-play Sample:
It was something about the swaying of the train that brought memories of that familiar melody. Perhaps the click of the wheels bumping over the sleepers below hitting just the right beat, or the whistle of wind through a crack in the window dredging up a long forgotten tune, maybe it was just the feeling of moving. It was an old tune, something he hadn’t heard outside of his own thoughts for longer than he could remember, a part of times left far behind. Sifting through foggy pictures he could scarcely find the face that had first sung it to him.
He wasn’t sure if it was an old hymn- something heard in passing through a town where people of faith dwelt- or just an old song hummed and quietly sung by people who felt much older than he. It was a travelling song, or at least it reminded him of travelling. The words were elusive; darting around his heard just out of his reach. But that mattered little; it was just the feelings that truly mattered in music.
It was a reminder that he was never where he belonged, forever out of his element. Always chasing, or fleeing from, things he never really understood. This world, like others, was not his home; for he was merely passing through.
A sudden jolt snapped him out of the moment of reflection and back into the world around him.
The train had stopped. Passengers were shuffling past him in their eagerness to exit the cramped, musky, carriage. Men in suits with their black briefcases, children with their bright laughs and tiny bags running between the legs of their elders in their rush to school, the occasional elderly man or woman creaking their way to the doors. He couldn’t help but almost chuckle (suppressed, of course) as he turned towards the exit to watch them passively fight each other to be the first out the door as it opened.
It was just a handful of seconds and the train continued on, its load just that bit lighter now. He shifted slightly in his seat, turning his face back to his lap to, perhaps, doze a little while he waited for the train to finally reach his stop.
“Mummy, look!”
He was greeted not with his own lap, but a finger jabbing at his face a few centimetres away from the tip of his nose. A small boy, face turned towards his mother across the aisle, triumphantly bounced on his toes as he realised the man he was so interested in had noticed him. His mother was half out of her seat, her brow furrowed in obvious maternal concern as she sternly called out to him.
“Tommy! Come back here at once! Leave the poor man alone.”
The boy’s arm snapped back to his side like a deflated balloon. Clearly abashed, he scurried away to the seat beside his mother, but not without a quick glance back, a look of longing wonder in his eyes.
He felt weary, that sinking sensation of regret sinking into him mixed with a healthy dose of déjà vu, penetrating down to the bone.
Not now.
He shook his head and turned his eyes back to the woman sitting across and down from him on the other side of the train. His heart leapt to his mouth for a beat, his lips feeling heavy and dry, and his voice screaming to stay at home.
“Your son is a brave one, ma’am; you shouldn’t childe him for curiosity. Children will always marvel at something they have not seen before. But, I can understand your worry; just look around, you are not the only one to think me strange. That’s just how life is for an albino”
With those last words he spread his arms wide, gesturing to the empty seats that went down half the carriage. Cold seats; seats unused since he had sat down on the train. As he had walked in he could feel theirs eyes on him, curious, fearful, and taunting. This was normal, and he never let it bother him, it didn’t matter where he was or where he was going. It was just always the same.
She held his gaze for a moment, and then looked away as her cheeks flushed red. She knew what he meant; as she was thinking the same thing as all the rest. Any moment now she would gather up her child and scurry down the carriage away from him, fearing what would happen if her son wandered too close to this man. With a quiet sigh, he dipped his head toward his lap again and closed his eyes; nothing more to see here.
He felt the breath on his neck before he even heard a sound. It was light and soft and without a single taste of malice. It was innocence in vapour form. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that the child had leaned up to his ear, and he caught his breath as he waited for the words.
“I don’t think you’re scary, mister.”
A smile crept along his lips, and it was all he could do to keep himself from laughing. Bested by a child. Sweet, innocent words from a kid was all that was needed to pierce the cynicism he was wallowing in.
He looked up, and was greeted by a slight smile from the lady down the aisle before she quietly spoke again.
“From the mouth of babes, they say.”
![[Image: Viper-Adjusted-Mini-Sig.png]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v308/OBLCDiomedes/Viper-Adjusted-Mini-Sig.png)
![[Image: Trixie-Mini-Sig-Fixed.png]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v308/OBLCDiomedes/Recent%20Signatures/Trixie-Mini-Sig-Fixed.png)