Post by nyx on Oct 24, 2010 18:14:34 GMT -5
Name:
Hela Asuma Strix
Age:
27
Race:
Human
Occupation:
Assassin
Allegiance:
Whoever pays her enough money to do their dirty work.
Physical Description:
Hela young, and fit for her age. She spent most of her life wielding a weapon and using them. She's about five feet and four inches, and an hourglass to top off her body- but most of the time she is always wearing a black cloak that covers any curves that she has. That is mostly what she is seen wearing- especially when she's working. She is rarely the type to be seen in anything expensive or grand, opting for the leather boots, and armor rather then a dress or of the sort.
She has an angular face, a sharp jaw, full lips, and long black locks of hair that she always keeps down to her lower back. Usually it is in front of her shoulders, so when she looks down it easily covers her face for less attention. However, during a job, she sometimes braids it and keeps it up so it isn't all over the place when she fights. She has considered cutting it a little bit shorter but hasn't had the time nor motivation to do so.
Her favorite weapons are usually knives and blades. She has the most experience in them, so she has a set of them hidden under her boots for easy access, she also has a hand-and-a-half sword that she is rarely seen without, and at times she has a recurve bow and arrows.
Personality:
Hela is rather a calm person, she is rather soft spoken, she keeps to herself most of the time and likes to spend her days alone and in silence. She is one of those people who don't make many friends, if not at all. Even if she does, she is very distinct and aloof, so if they really are not on good terms with from the start, they can't stand her. She also has problems with trusting, interest, and being honest; there are a few things that she really puts his mind to. One would call it lazy, but she calls it uninteresting. But to get into depth about who she is, one has to know what she has a different attitude with the people she talks to, and it depends on if they are someone she tolerates or not.
To her friends, she is loyal. She would do anything for them when they need a favor. She is the quiet person, the only who really speaks only went she needs to, but compared to talking to someone she didn't know, she is rather chatty. She only has a few of them, and even fewer she trust when it comes to anything important. It's rare for her to make that many friends, she isn't the type to like to hold any connections because sometimes it gets in the way of a job. But she's also manipulative, she makes a lot of fake friends just to get what she wants before dropping them. But being around someone for so long will always forge a bond- be it good or bad- if one is lucky enough to be a friend- she would always hold a difference attitude to them.To someone she hates, she is cold, and is the stubborn person who, once they realize where the person stands, will always be on that list.
Overall, she is the type that likes to be in the corner. She is much smarter then she lets on, and she is not as fragile as people seem to think she is, but let them think what they want- the fact of the matter is that she knows the truth about herself, and the reasons behind the things she does. She's
When it comes to knowledge- knowledge is always power. She's very calculating- there is always some type of reason for the things she does, despite the fact that it may not seem like so. She even is spontaneous or random when it comes to the events in her life. She always plans everything before hand and work out several strategist in mind in case the first one didn't work. It is rare for her to be caught off guard in any way- but mistakes does happen, and she usually beats herself up for it. Failure is not something she takes lightly- if at all.
History:
Hela grew up in Teirm, and the rough streets taught her to always be on guard whenever she was outside the comforts of her home. Her father had abandoned the family when she was a child, realizing that maybe having a kid wasn't the best idea, the fact that he was also playing another woman for a few towns over also backed up the idea of leaving the family, leaving her mother to take care of a baby and try to support them both through an honest living, rather then do a few cheap works or scheme someone for money. Now that she had a child who looked up to her- she didn't exactly want her daughter to learn that stealing and tricks is a way to get through life- even though there was time when money seemed too low and it seemed like there was no other choice.
She had grown up unlike a happy family- she was mostly alone while her mother worked. By that- she was always outside, always with the other kids who did things that 'wrong' like taking things without permission and causing trouble when she shouldn't be. It was the years up to living that she started to develop the idea that when stay alive, one has to be the best- the weak ones get plucked off and it was their fault.
That was in his uncle moved in to support the family, around the age of eight or so. He was a soldier, who knew how to use the 'big' swords and defend himself when he was threatened. Staying at home so long, he taught her almost everything he knew, sometimes, clearing a room just for sparring for fun. They had never gotten further then wooden sticks, but often Hela went to bed bruised, beaten, and excited for the next day, wanting to see if she had gotten better. She was stubborn, and she wouldn't get in, fights and arguments with the boys taught her how to be light on her feet, and quick in her movements. Most of her life as a young adult was mostly spent working for food, and learning to to use a weapon. It wasn't until she was seventeen and her mother was killed by a thief did she leave home, searching for- what she called the 'meaning of life', when really- it was just and excuse to leave her uncle.
She mostly grew up as a traveler or nomad, stealing money to hunker down for the night or get a food to eat. At one point, a old storyteller had accompanied her for about five years, to which he had taught her how to use a bow and arrow, but having reached his limit on traveling, he stayed in one of the small hamlet, leaving her to keep going. She even saved up a few coins to buy herself a horse- to which she Christened Shiva. At twenty seven, she sells herself out for work. Mostly she hangs around the more shady and dangerous town- never taking a job without a high price.
Roleplaying Sample:
Tom snorted, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his dark wash jeans as he walked, his high tops scuffing the pavement. He was listening to the idle chatter of his friends as they got together. It's ridiculous really, and though he tried oh so very hard to be friendly, it wasn't working out for him. Apparently it was his friend's birthday, and all along they planned to drive to Forks to see Tom and celebrate the occasion as if someone was getting married. Four people in Tom's two bedroom house, including his dog. He had forgotten how crazy they could be with the drinking, and usually he would join in with their midnight debauchery, but on a night that he had to study, they couldn't keep their rowdiness to a minim for more then ten minutes- resulting with a drunk Tom, then followed by a hungover Tom, which quickly turned into a grumpy Tom, and after they decided to have the party at the grill, they insisted that everyone should try to dress up, which made him an irritable Tom.
Grumbling he hoped the door and let everyone inside before sauntering in after them. Silly of them to think that he of all people would dress for the occasion; he opted for the dark wash jeans, and a crisp plaid shirt instead of the dress pants and dress shirt that his friends were donning. He grumbled, sliding into a seat and putting one hand on the back of the booth they were occupying. He was trying- to say the least, by trying he was ordering a martini, which happened to have a special to buy one get one (lucky him). He, being a boy who really couldn't stay down in the presence of alcohol, made something of himself, chatting with his friends and gladly swapping stories about what he had been doing since they parted ways for collage. It was funny how some people would never see each other again, some people get lucky and have the chance to run into someone they haven't seen since high school; but that was usually in the movies, right? Well his friends were one of a kind- he was the only one who moved to a small town to get to his dreams, one of them went to Duke, and the other two went to Los Angeles. For them- they Skype, and still keep in touch, and often, when lonely, would just buy a plane ticket to see him in Forks- where the small town atmosphere gives them a chance to lay low and unwind. Ha- the advantages of having rich friends- besides the fact that cocaine or weed doesn't seem to cost that much.
Leaning back and fiddling with the menu, he spoke a little more and chatted until he excused himself and took his leave, making a beeline for the nearest bar. It was a birthday reservation and he wanted to spare himself the humiliation when the employees came out, holding a birthday cake and singing loudly off key. Though that wouldn't happen until desert, he found himself needed a drink anyways. He wasn't that classy. He was Tom Trumper, the boy from Chicago.There had always been someone different about him, not counting how he dressed and liked to look, he was an interesting person. Apart from not letting anyone know that he was smarter then he let on, he was lazy. Very lazy- proabably the only time he would get up and make something in his life was move to the kitchen and pop the top of a bottle beer. Funny- he found that triat to be highly unappealing, and yet there was always someone who wanted him, maybe to be a boyfriend or a big brother, people looked up to him. He never learned why, he was just being himself, no holding back. He's the kid seniors would look at and shake their heads, asking what has the generation become. He wouldn't say it was a bad thing, not at all. He was living in the moment- what's wrong wit that?
Sighing, he made his way over to the bar, his hand slapping the counter casually as he spoke. 'Just a rum and coke,' he ordered at the man with a nod. On a night like this? He was with his friends, he didn't plan to pick anyone up, if he did, it wasn't his intentions. But he couldn't help himself, when he turned and looked at the girl occupying a stool a few seas down, he felt a sense of.. sadness? Normally, one wouldn't go here alone, and he wondered what was happening in her life that caused her to be there at that moment. And before he could think twice, he was sliding himself in a seat next to her as the drink slid right into his hand. His friends can wait. He was sure.
'The night's still young, wherever he is, I'm sure hell come around,' he commented casually, not looking at her as he studied the drink before lifting it to his lips. That was his version of a hello. Simple, right? If she said that she was alone, he could invite her somewhere- do something. If she was with someone, surely she would grant him permission to keep her company until he arrives no? The night, as he said- was young. They have time.
Grumbling he hoped the door and let everyone inside before sauntering in after them. Silly of them to think that he of all people would dress for the occasion; he opted for the dark wash jeans, and a crisp plaid shirt instead of the dress pants and dress shirt that his friends were donning. He grumbled, sliding into a seat and putting one hand on the back of the booth they were occupying. He was trying- to say the least, by trying he was ordering a martini, which happened to have a special to buy one get one (lucky him). He, being a boy who really couldn't stay down in the presence of alcohol, made something of himself, chatting with his friends and gladly swapping stories about what he had been doing since they parted ways for collage. It was funny how some people would never see each other again, some people get lucky and have the chance to run into someone they haven't seen since high school; but that was usually in the movies, right? Well his friends were one of a kind- he was the only one who moved to a small town to get to his dreams, one of them went to Duke, and the other two went to Los Angeles. For them- they Skype, and still keep in touch, and often, when lonely, would just buy a plane ticket to see him in Forks- where the small town atmosphere gives them a chance to lay low and unwind. Ha- the advantages of having rich friends- besides the fact that cocaine or weed doesn't seem to cost that much.
Leaning back and fiddling with the menu, he spoke a little more and chatted until he excused himself and took his leave, making a beeline for the nearest bar. It was a birthday reservation and he wanted to spare himself the humiliation when the employees came out, holding a birthday cake and singing loudly off key. Though that wouldn't happen until desert, he found himself needed a drink anyways. He wasn't that classy. He was Tom Trumper, the boy from Chicago.There had always been someone different about him, not counting how he dressed and liked to look, he was an interesting person. Apart from not letting anyone know that he was smarter then he let on, he was lazy. Very lazy- proabably the only time he would get up and make something in his life was move to the kitchen and pop the top of a bottle beer. Funny- he found that triat to be highly unappealing, and yet there was always someone who wanted him, maybe to be a boyfriend or a big brother, people looked up to him. He never learned why, he was just being himself, no holding back. He's the kid seniors would look at and shake their heads, asking what has the generation become. He wouldn't say it was a bad thing, not at all. He was living in the moment- what's wrong wit that?
Sighing, he made his way over to the bar, his hand slapping the counter casually as he spoke. 'Just a rum and coke,' he ordered at the man with a nod. On a night like this? He was with his friends, he didn't plan to pick anyone up, if he did, it wasn't his intentions. But he couldn't help himself, when he turned and looked at the girl occupying a stool a few seas down, he felt a sense of.. sadness? Normally, one wouldn't go here alone, and he wondered what was happening in her life that caused her to be there at that moment. And before he could think twice, he was sliding himself in a seat next to her as the drink slid right into his hand. His friends can wait. He was sure.
'The night's still young, wherever he is, I'm sure hell come around,' he commented casually, not looking at her as he studied the drink before lifting it to his lips. That was his version of a hello. Simple, right? If she said that she was alone, he could invite her somewhere- do something. If she was with someone, surely she would grant him permission to keep her company until he arrives no? The night, as he said- was young. They have time.
