Name: Gail Gaarn
Race: Human
Class: Tinkler (If you dont let me use this **** off.
its basically someone who tinkers with items and artifacts and makes weapons out of them. He'll be good down the road, though he is weak in melee combat.
Age: 94
Physical Desription: For a 94 year old man, he is in remarkable physical condition. Some say his long dark chain-linked sleeve on his left arm covers the source of his longevity, and his thin black hair is always unkempt and messy. He has few wrinkles on his face, even at his age, and is never seen without his circular optical glasses, a personal favorite gadget used for many things; mainly because he is blind without them.
Reason for being in Nite City (just put why your in nite city...): He has been tracing for many years "the Arch" another tinkler who stole countless gadgets from Gail some 30 odd years ago, and has been using Gails most devastating gadget to kill, maim, and destroy countless thousands of people. He came to Nite City to recover it. After quite a battle, he recovered the Anti, and now he resides in Nite City, spending his time tinkling and toying with his many gadgets.
i ****ing hope im a vet i used to mod here...
heres a nice little teaser of my character, the Tinkler.
Everywhere Gail looked the Tinklers amassed, lining up with their gadgets and trinkets prepared and ready for a battle not yet born. The ominous power leeched down from the top of the dark desolate hill; the wretched and most horrible of creatures that be. That evil, snaring creature that causes a complete loss of hope and faith; the one single creature who’s very core is iniquity.
Gail knew what would happen next. It happened everywhere this sin went. This creature, the very embodiment of sin itself, never left someone alive to tell of its tale. All that can be inferred about it can be gathered from the countless thousands of people who’s flame he has extinguished. There were men old and young, women and children too, who gathered below his perch. Unwilling sacrifices. There was no logic, no reason, for these sensless killings. It was what SIN does; it is what SIN is. There is no reason, there is only judgement. Seven turns into the night, at one point down the road, this vice he had on the minds of the townsfolk suddenly was severed, and all dropped to their knees. It was as if Gail literally felt death brush by him. It was a wonder his very essence his SOUL wasn’t stripped from his body right then. All were now prone, their dreams full of life and their lives full of dreams were now nothing but a distant memory. They were not dead. No, that would be too easy for SIN. They were simply there. Life without purpose is not life at all, and these pour souls were now just carbon beings incapable of anything but fear, pain, and despair. There was no more god in their eyes; no more faith. There was nothing.
It was at this very moment Gail turned to see him, staring him in the eyes. How was he not affected? Was he chosen by SIN to be the bearer of news? Was he blessed to live? No. He was cursed. It was this very moment that his life made a full circle. With an outstretched arm, SIN squeezed the heart beating inside Gail; the 94 year old tinkler. He had the curse now. He was the curse now. A dark, misty fog choked his lungs as his skin turned to a dark wretched black; dark as SIN and just as cruel. He should have died that very instant he was touched with SIN, but he didn’t. Something happened. A mistake maybe? No, SIN does not make mistakes. SIN makes choices based on logic, and as the mist escaped into the palm of the SIN’s hand, the black drained out of Gails body. He fell to his knees, feeling the pain of death without the sweet kiss of relief at the end. He died, yet he lived on. He faced death and somehow survived.
Gail stumbled from his knees to the ground. He knew what happened, the curse was upon him. He could no longer die, and yet he could no longer live. He was the lingo the MUSE. He wasn’t even human anymore. He wasnt anything. He was just a collection of bones and organs without a purpose or soul. He who wanders the land without hope or faith. The unforgiven. And yet, some 3000 years later, as he travels the world as the last desolate Tinkler... he thinks back every second he gets to the days when he could pray and live and age. Now here he was. Stuck forever in a body that isnt his anymore. His meaning has gone, and with that his soul.
K im tired thats all i feel like writing tonight, just a lil backstory. Kisses, and gnight.