Let's Not And Say We Did

Nothing new

About time I got off my lazy ass and started working on something. Or maybe I could just waste some time.

Yeah, I'll go do that second thing.

MEANWHILE! Almost done |D

== I. Basic Information ==

Full Name: Vangelus Kaosic

Alias/Chosen Name: Vitriol

Gender: Male

Species: Pharaoh Hound

Place of Residence: Vagrant

Occupation: Occasionally finds work as an armed escort or a guard; formerly a town watchman in training.

Socio-economic Status: Lower-class Rebel

== II. Physical Information==

Height: 3 feet 11 inches

Weight: 87 lbs.

Current Age: 19

Physical Appearance: Vitriol's fur is short and sleek, mainly a solid grey colour. His white muzzle is long and pointed, and both his hair and tail-tip are dyed a dark blue colour. The hair is styled into a sort of long, shaggy four-pointed fringe in the middle of his forehead, and his long, thin tail has a ruffled tip. His slanted eyes are deep violet, and his ears are large, triangular and perked. The most distinguishing thing, however, is the scar pattern on his back; a 'star-burst' of six lacerations radiating out from the middle of his back, tracing around his sides and over his shoulders.

Attire:
- On each arm, near the shoulder, he wears two black bands (two per arm, that is) with thin silver chains forming 'X's between the upper and lower band.
- His gloves are loose and fingerless, black knitted fabric stretching from his palm almost to his elbow, with thin silver rings running down the outer edge of the arm
- A silver Anarchy pendant around his neck
- Each of his ears is pierced with two silver rings, a thin chain connecting the upper and lower rings
- A thick silver chain is coiled several times around his waist - he uses this as a 'belt' for his sword sheath.
Gear and Accessories:
- Falcata:: Literally his only possession besides his clothing. This sword was issued to him in his time as a Basalaam City Guard, and when he quit that job he took it with him. Uses it to hunt, defend, attack; sees it as the only thing he wouldn't willingly throw away.

== III. Personal Information==

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Personality: Vitriol is a harsh person; he really does not like people in general or himself in particular. He's quite often a complete jackass, and his blatant disregard for orderly society doesn't serve to make him many friends. He's young, as well, with a kind of teenage arrogance that makes him think he knows best, even when he's being fed lies and strung along by someone who's using him.

But the thing is that he tries. He may think that the world is just evil vs. evil, but he's trying to do something about what he sees - to him simply standing around complaining is worse than doing nothing at all. He guards people because he thinks that's how he can best serve, and in return he only asks to be fed during the job's duration. He's honest, and hard-working. He's unselfish and a pretty harsh Ascetic; whatever else he may do, however much he complains, he at leasts holds himself up to the standards he sets for others.

In short, he's a mess right now, and possibly a danger to himself or others...but he has the potential to be the crusader he thinks he is.

Theme Song: "Divide" - Disturbed

Hobbies and Interests:
- Hobbies and interests are pretty much all he does - he hunts when he feels like it, guards because he likes to, wanders because he wants...he's completely disconnected himself form organized society, and lives only as he wants. This can be good or bad, depending on the situation.

Abilities:
= Vitreokinesis: Vitriol, using this power, can mentally control and manipulate forms of glass; creating glass from sand, repairing, reshaping, or recolouring glass. He may increase glass density (levity/weight), resistant to extreme temperatures (heat/freeze), puncture proof (e.g. bullet vest), shape it into various forms (sharp or softened/blunt), or revert it into a sand forme/vice versa.

== Vitreokinesis Techniques:
+ "Shards fall, everybody dies": Creates airborne glass shards that rain down from above. Generally does so by kicking up or throwing a cloud of sand up and forming it mid-air, but can work with existing glass constructs. (Despite the name, this move is not necessarily fatal.)

+ "This glass armour is useless!": Creates a refractive pane of glass to deflect or absorb an energy based attack; prone to shattering if overloaded or the crystal structure is way off. Not so good against physical attacks unless specially reinforced.

+ "I'm not really here" : Forms a quick cloud of reflective sand/glass particles; refracts light just enough to obscure vision or cause visual effects (mirages, etc.) Lasts only a moment, as the dust settles, or can be blown away.

+ "You used a crate? I mean, really, a crate?" : Vitriol creates a quick improvised weapon out of glass. This is usually a desperation tactic, as his sword is sturdier, but he may have to improvise if he loses it.

= Other Skills/Abilities:
+ "Bringing a sword to a gun fight" : Vitriol's only weapon training is with his sword. He's pretty decent at it, having used it as his primary fighting style for years now, but he isn't really a master. He doesn't know any specific style; only a collection of moves he groups under the heading, "How to not die."

Strengths:
Summary: "Fall seven times. Stand up eight."
- Whatever his faults, one can't deny his determination. He powers through obstacles to reach his goals, through a great deal of strife; indeed, opposing him only makes him work harder out of spite.
- Survivor; he's been through many kinds of terrain, supporting himself with his own two hands, without any help or tools besides his sword and the chains he wears. This dog can look after himself
- Discipline; He's far from perfect, but when it's flat out shown to him that he's made a mistake, he _learns_ from it, and strives even harder to make sure he doesn't do it again.

Weaknesses:
Summary: "Like a cannon made of glass"
- Naive - Strange as it may seem, his cynicism combines with his youth in the worst of ways. He's young and stupid enough to _think_ he's seen terrible things, but really hasn't. This kind of blind arrogance can, at times, make him even worse than the people he rails against, and be easily misled.
- Fragile - He's not especially solid or brawny, and so, just like the glass he controls, he's not good at facing blow after blow after blow
- Temper - Related to the above, that temper of his won't do him many favours. This kid really needs to learn to get a hold of himself.

Background Story:
Born on a balmy island in a sheltered sea, he was raised in the city of Basalaam, a central trading port form many of the surrounding islands. Vangelus was headstrong, it's true, but as a child he bounced often between exuberance and playfulness -- he could be snappish, but was quick to bury the hatchet. As such, most of his childhood was relatively normal. He split his time between playing on the inland fields, his home life and school.

When he reached the age of 15, his father, a guard captain, began taking steps to induct him into the City Watch. Vangelus himself had no complaints with this -- the life of a guard seemed exiting to him, his head filled with daring rescues and fighting off pirates at port. He was made a private, and began his training.

But unfortunately, the romantic tales he'd heard were largely that; tales. Quickly he learned that the real life of a guard was a slog of regulation, boredom, and keeping peace within the city. There were no guards to fight, nothing to do...but keep the bloody citizenry under watch.

He had never thought about how much went on around him every day - the tavern brawls and the disappearances; the shadowy dealings and veiled threats. But now it was his reality - the biggest wake-up call coming in the form of a back-first flight through a tavern window.

He was put out of action for a good while with that one, left lying in bed with his back stitched together. For days. Weeks. Often alone. With noting left to do and boredom constantly breathing down his neck. The young hound fell to brooding, turning over and over in his hands a shard of glass from the scrap.

All that disappointment, anger, boredom and a decent helping of basic teenage rebellion stewed in is head, staining his memories and colouring his world in shades of jade. Glancing back at the shard, he was surprised to find it shifting at his touch, reacting to him. Finally finding something to spark his interest, he experimented, shifting it one way or another, sharp and then blunt, rigid and then soft.

Finally he recovered enough to be put back to work, but found his enthusiasm was beyond repair. Instead he only became more sullen, rebellious. Completely disregarding rules. Speaking harsh, caustic, spitting acid at former friend and foe alike. Within a short time he found himself barred from the force.

But he didn't like the prospect of settling down in the city - he felt like he knew too many of the peoples secrets, what they tried to hide. Now 17 by this point, he hopped a ship to the mainland, intending on finding a way to live his life to _his_ standards.

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