Post by whyerd on Jun 3, 2008 5:44:32 GMT -5
Name: Zander Luther Kolbaine
Nickname: Military habit that he just have people refer to him by last name
Age: 39
D.O.B: August 03, 1969
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Personality: He is a friendly and honest guy, if you don’t give him a reason to go behind and break your neck. In conversations, he’s straightforward and prefers facts than hypothetical conversations. It’s not that he isn’t a deep thinker; he prefers tangible evidence than thoughts that can be twisted to say anything is possible. Kolbaine loves and does, just about, everything fast; eat, clean, kill, drive, and drink. Though he doesn’t mean to come across as threatening, but he finds it as the quickest path to get what he wants. If threats don’t work, he uses his favorite method, bashing the person’s face. He isn’t a weapon user, due to the training he had went through and having a gun jam on him on his first assignment. He will use a gun only if it’s absolutely necessary, such as forty guys armed with full automatics are waiting for him; otherwise he uses his natural tools, stealth and his body. He likes to keep to himself, only using his “conversation” skills for things he needs. Keeping to himself means that he effectively hides in a crowd, never standing out. The ex-Marine loves beer, and if he sees it he drinks it, and doesn’t worry about being too drunk as he has a high tolerance. Though he seems to let loose every time he is angry, he is good at keeping it under control under normal circumstances. The only time he may slip is when he has the opportunity and sees no consequence for his action. He will use the anger as a drive, however he may get tempted to start bashing potentially dangerous bystanders. He may sounds he loves action in every aspect of life, he doesn’t most like sports, as he views them as pointless unless he is in the game himself, and prefers comedies to action movies, to relax and laugh. There is only one sport he will watch, un-televised martial arts; as he sees the point to the competition, knows it is real, and love the performance of techniques the advance combatants use. He is fine with his sudden unemployment, except with the face that he “died” on a mission. Kolbaine doesn’t dare return to his employer, due to the fact he knows he will be questioned and possible be removed, for being “dead”. Currently though he will help Issun, he wants to dump him A.S.A.P.; he couldn’t at the time due to the fact they were in the middle of nowhere.
Appearance: This muscular, tan giant stands at 6’4’’, and is about 250 pounds, most of it being muscle. His oval-ish head and big neck fits with his body, making him appear as a non-descriptive person other than tall and muscular. Though he has a small disproportion, his right, green eye is one and a half centimeters higher than his brown left. He has one scar, a large gash from a knife fight, located across the base of his stomach. He wears his hair really short, only letting it grow about 1 to 2 centimeters. Nothing special about his clothes, he tends to wear a t-shirt or sleeveless, durable pants, and steel toes.
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Family: A mother being taken care by a younger sister; both think he’s “dead”
Current lover/boy-girlfriend/spouse:A girlfriend that he would marry if he weren’t “dead”.
Offspring: A three year old son, which this “dead” man doesn’t know the name of.
Job: Before he “died”, he was in an elite squad of Marines, covert operations missions similar to what the Green Berets do. Otherwise it’s just finding a cheap place to live and get a job.
Specialties: Intimidation, hand to hand combat, sneaking, hiding in a crowd, and able to hold his large amounts of liquor.
Weaknesses: Anger issues, can be a little too honest, and having a narrow view on most people.
Likes: Beer, driving fast cars, driving fast cars into people, steak, mash potatoes, having a reason to fight, when he’s angry; smacking someone with their own gun,
Dislikes: His “death”, lying, overly religious people, using guns, and whining, especially Issun’s.
Birth Place: In a bathroom of a rest stop, in the middle of Oregon.
History: It wasn’t until he was a 13-year-old brown belt, in Taekwondo, that he wanted to join the military. The main reasons for wanting the job was a profession where combat knowledge was wanted and if someone wasn’t they didn’t last to long in it. He was never too social with people, as he tended to be a loner. When he became 18 and finished school, he joined the Marines. Scoring high in his proficiency exams, especially on hand to hand combat situations, is what had gotten him noticed. He was then asked to be in an elite group, one not named to this day, to take on more dangerous missions. He agrees as he wants to prove himself and excitement. As mentioned before, on his first mission, his gun jammed as he was in a middle of a gun fight. Sense then, he decided to be stealthier and depend more on his hands than his tools. He has completed over 30 missions, until his untimely “death”. The reason people thought he was dead was that the plane he was on, crashed in the middle of nowhere, in Siberia, during winter. It took him three weeks to at least get home, before realizing he was “dead” and should stay that way. So he heads to Bermuda, to one of the less populated islands, where an instructor of his lived. He was recognized by most of the island, as he had trained there before becoming an elite. Too bad for him, a cult that was going to destroy the island got excited when they recognized him, as a mission involved shutting them down. That night, the cult members went crazy with their flamethrowers. As the island burned, Kolbaine was fighting guys off, then happens to go behind a building. He then notices someone was there, so he went to strike them down. That morning, he wakes up, finding himself and Issun where on a base for a support beam. It turns out they happen to pull a double knock out. With no one else on the island, the surviving cult members killed themselves; the marine and Issun take a boat, to sneak on a container ship. Kolbaine’s plans for now are to find cheap housing, to get a job, and to hopefully not having the kid hang around.
Sample Post: Kolbaine painfully rises out of bed, knowing sleeping was impossible, “It’s too damn awkward to sleep in a bed with another guy…”
He looks at the window, covered by brown curtains, and the door, which shared the brown as the curtains, “Tell me the owner isn’t coming back, otherwise I think he’ll pee on the walls again.”
The soldier’s eyes follows the yellow walls back to the futon, where Issun was sleeping, “I hope he’s all out of complaints. He thinks he had the worse of it. For a damn, little guy, he knows how to hit like a semi. If he had gotten the razor, I don’t think I would be living right now.”
Remembering he still has a field kit, the man takes it out of his right pocket, sets it on the nightstand, besides a TV remote and broken lamp; opens and retrieves a small bottle of ibuprofen. He opens it up and lays the contents in his left hand; two pills. He looks back at the shaven kid, “Even if I give him these, he’ll still complain about something else. Besides, the cut was his fault for not staying still. I guess it sucks to be him because he wouldn’t listen. I’m going to need to drink something with this.”
Though it was dark in the house, it was easy to navigate the shabby interior; it only took four steps to go exit, the tiny yellow walls and tan carpeting, to the past. “Wow… Someone was defiantly aiming for a 50’s and tacky theme,” noting the black and white, tiled covered room. It also had simple, brown stained, wooden cabinets; a green, medium-height refrigerator; and a grungy, boxy, small oven. He heads to the fridge and swings it open, expecting to find either food from the same time period, as the kitchen, or a bag of dog food. “He spends next to nothing on this dump, but buys the good booze. I guess the owner just won me over.”
He takes one of 15 dollar bottle of beers and, in a down-ward motion, uses a shelf as a bottle opener. He the looks at the tacky, cat clock, with it’s eyes moving back and fourth and 5:30 on its white belly. “Cheers!” He puts the pills in his mouth then downs them with the entire bottle, in 5 seconds. Then a quick, “AH!”, escapes him as he throws the bottle in same the resting place as the ibuprofen bottle and Issun’s hair. Cracking his neck, he reaches for seconds then kicks the door shut. He heads back to the ugly, yellow room, to the only seat in the house. He looks at Issun, then sighs and goes back to his drink, “I bet he will be thrilled about the choices for breakfast; sardines and beer. Yay, more whining.”
Nickname: Military habit that he just have people refer to him by last name
Age: 39
D.O.B: August 03, 1969
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Personality: He is a friendly and honest guy, if you don’t give him a reason to go behind and break your neck. In conversations, he’s straightforward and prefers facts than hypothetical conversations. It’s not that he isn’t a deep thinker; he prefers tangible evidence than thoughts that can be twisted to say anything is possible. Kolbaine loves and does, just about, everything fast; eat, clean, kill, drive, and drink. Though he doesn’t mean to come across as threatening, but he finds it as the quickest path to get what he wants. If threats don’t work, he uses his favorite method, bashing the person’s face. He isn’t a weapon user, due to the training he had went through and having a gun jam on him on his first assignment. He will use a gun only if it’s absolutely necessary, such as forty guys armed with full automatics are waiting for him; otherwise he uses his natural tools, stealth and his body. He likes to keep to himself, only using his “conversation” skills for things he needs. Keeping to himself means that he effectively hides in a crowd, never standing out. The ex-Marine loves beer, and if he sees it he drinks it, and doesn’t worry about being too drunk as he has a high tolerance. Though he seems to let loose every time he is angry, he is good at keeping it under control under normal circumstances. The only time he may slip is when he has the opportunity and sees no consequence for his action. He will use the anger as a drive, however he may get tempted to start bashing potentially dangerous bystanders. He may sounds he loves action in every aspect of life, he doesn’t most like sports, as he views them as pointless unless he is in the game himself, and prefers comedies to action movies, to relax and laugh. There is only one sport he will watch, un-televised martial arts; as he sees the point to the competition, knows it is real, and love the performance of techniques the advance combatants use. He is fine with his sudden unemployment, except with the face that he “died” on a mission. Kolbaine doesn’t dare return to his employer, due to the fact he knows he will be questioned and possible be removed, for being “dead”. Currently though he will help Issun, he wants to dump him A.S.A.P.; he couldn’t at the time due to the fact they were in the middle of nowhere.
Appearance: This muscular, tan giant stands at 6’4’’, and is about 250 pounds, most of it being muscle. His oval-ish head and big neck fits with his body, making him appear as a non-descriptive person other than tall and muscular. Though he has a small disproportion, his right, green eye is one and a half centimeters higher than his brown left. He has one scar, a large gash from a knife fight, located across the base of his stomach. He wears his hair really short, only letting it grow about 1 to 2 centimeters. Nothing special about his clothes, he tends to wear a t-shirt or sleeveless, durable pants, and steel toes.
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Family: A mother being taken care by a younger sister; both think he’s “dead”
Current lover/boy-girlfriend/spouse:A girlfriend that he would marry if he weren’t “dead”.
Offspring: A three year old son, which this “dead” man doesn’t know the name of.
Job: Before he “died”, he was in an elite squad of Marines, covert operations missions similar to what the Green Berets do. Otherwise it’s just finding a cheap place to live and get a job.
Specialties: Intimidation, hand to hand combat, sneaking, hiding in a crowd, and able to hold his large amounts of liquor.
Weaknesses: Anger issues, can be a little too honest, and having a narrow view on most people.
Likes: Beer, driving fast cars, driving fast cars into people, steak, mash potatoes, having a reason to fight, when he’s angry; smacking someone with their own gun,
Dislikes: His “death”, lying, overly religious people, using guns, and whining, especially Issun’s.
Birth Place: In a bathroom of a rest stop, in the middle of Oregon.
History: It wasn’t until he was a 13-year-old brown belt, in Taekwondo, that he wanted to join the military. The main reasons for wanting the job was a profession where combat knowledge was wanted and if someone wasn’t they didn’t last to long in it. He was never too social with people, as he tended to be a loner. When he became 18 and finished school, he joined the Marines. Scoring high in his proficiency exams, especially on hand to hand combat situations, is what had gotten him noticed. He was then asked to be in an elite group, one not named to this day, to take on more dangerous missions. He agrees as he wants to prove himself and excitement. As mentioned before, on his first mission, his gun jammed as he was in a middle of a gun fight. Sense then, he decided to be stealthier and depend more on his hands than his tools. He has completed over 30 missions, until his untimely “death”. The reason people thought he was dead was that the plane he was on, crashed in the middle of nowhere, in Siberia, during winter. It took him three weeks to at least get home, before realizing he was “dead” and should stay that way. So he heads to Bermuda, to one of the less populated islands, where an instructor of his lived. He was recognized by most of the island, as he had trained there before becoming an elite. Too bad for him, a cult that was going to destroy the island got excited when they recognized him, as a mission involved shutting them down. That night, the cult members went crazy with their flamethrowers. As the island burned, Kolbaine was fighting guys off, then happens to go behind a building. He then notices someone was there, so he went to strike them down. That morning, he wakes up, finding himself and Issun where on a base for a support beam. It turns out they happen to pull a double knock out. With no one else on the island, the surviving cult members killed themselves; the marine and Issun take a boat, to sneak on a container ship. Kolbaine’s plans for now are to find cheap housing, to get a job, and to hopefully not having the kid hang around.
Sample Post: Kolbaine painfully rises out of bed, knowing sleeping was impossible, “It’s too damn awkward to sleep in a bed with another guy…”
He looks at the window, covered by brown curtains, and the door, which shared the brown as the curtains, “Tell me the owner isn’t coming back, otherwise I think he’ll pee on the walls again.”
The soldier’s eyes follows the yellow walls back to the futon, where Issun was sleeping, “I hope he’s all out of complaints. He thinks he had the worse of it. For a damn, little guy, he knows how to hit like a semi. If he had gotten the razor, I don’t think I would be living right now.”
Remembering he still has a field kit, the man takes it out of his right pocket, sets it on the nightstand, besides a TV remote and broken lamp; opens and retrieves a small bottle of ibuprofen. He opens it up and lays the contents in his left hand; two pills. He looks back at the shaven kid, “Even if I give him these, he’ll still complain about something else. Besides, the cut was his fault for not staying still. I guess it sucks to be him because he wouldn’t listen. I’m going to need to drink something with this.”
Though it was dark in the house, it was easy to navigate the shabby interior; it only took four steps to go exit, the tiny yellow walls and tan carpeting, to the past. “Wow… Someone was defiantly aiming for a 50’s and tacky theme,” noting the black and white, tiled covered room. It also had simple, brown stained, wooden cabinets; a green, medium-height refrigerator; and a grungy, boxy, small oven. He heads to the fridge and swings it open, expecting to find either food from the same time period, as the kitchen, or a bag of dog food. “He spends next to nothing on this dump, but buys the good booze. I guess the owner just won me over.”
He takes one of 15 dollar bottle of beers and, in a down-ward motion, uses a shelf as a bottle opener. He the looks at the tacky, cat clock, with it’s eyes moving back and fourth and 5:30 on its white belly. “Cheers!” He puts the pills in his mouth then downs them with the entire bottle, in 5 seconds. Then a quick, “AH!”, escapes him as he throws the bottle in same the resting place as the ibuprofen bottle and Issun’s hair. Cracking his neck, he reaches for seconds then kicks the door shut. He heads back to the ugly, yellow room, to the only seat in the house. He looks at Issun, then sighs and goes back to his drink, “I bet he will be thrilled about the choices for breakfast; sardines and beer. Yay, more whining.”