Post by Eleanor Lily Hawke on Oct 25, 2015 18:33:40 GMT
Eleanor Lily Hawke
FACE CLAIM: Susan Coffey
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AGE: 21
GENDER: Female
ORIENTATION: Heterosexual
GROUP: Wanderers
POSITION: N/AWE ALL HAVE A STORY...
what's yours?
Eleanor Lily Hawke had a very difficult life, more so than most others in this hellhole of a world. At first, it wasn't that bad. But her mother died after giving birth to her younger sister Emily, and that is when things started going downhill. Her father was highly abusive and would physically hit and hurt her a lot whenever he got angry or even if she did something he didn't like. As the older sister, Eleanor did everything she could to shield her younger sister from the violence, which led to a lot of scars earned on her back from the hits she took from her father's belt. She plotted with her boyfriend, Lucas, until they had managed to scrounge up whatever resources they could and then they left her father's place, travelling far away from it. At first, life was good with the three. But then everything changed when they were scavenging inside a broken down store, where Eleanor was separated from Lucas and Emily. They had been attacked by the infected while in there and Lucas had been holding the door while they found a rope to loop over the vent and make a getaway. She had successfully climbed up onto a ventilation shaft, but as Emily was climbing, the rope they had been using tore and Emily fell. Lucas could not catch her as he was busy trying to hold the door, a flood of aggressive infected on the other side. Emily broke her ankle from the fall and before Eleanor could get down to help, the door shattered open. Lucas was nowhere to be seen as the flood poured in and Eleanor’s screams were just as loud as her sister’s as she watched Emily be torn apart.
It had taken her hours for the shock to wear off before she finally managed to find enough semblance of her mind to manage to escape through the roof of the dilapidated building. From there on, she wandered alone, lost, with nothing but Lucas’ dogtag, his handgun and a crumpled up picture of all three of them to keep as mementos of her lost loved ones.
Eleanor had always been very shy and introverted, as well as inept at dealing with other people. She was highly protective of her sister, however, who gave her the motivation to do many things she would never usually do. After losing her sister, however, Eleanor has become more shut in. She has become very cynical and bitter to the world, even a bit unhinged as she sometimes hallucinates her sister’s voice, haunted by her death. She does not trust people easily, mainly because she can’t really bring herself to speak too much to them. She considers her life a mere existence now, not alive. The sole reason she hasn’t killed herself is because she believes that she should do everything in her power to live, because her sister couldn’t. So she lives, fights and survives, for her sister if not for herself.BEHIND THE MASK...
who are you really?
SAMPLE:
Alan was panting hard as he fell to one knee, using his sword to hold himself upright. He was bleeding from multiple wounds. The scythe had been as deadly as it had seemed and cut through his armor with ease. It's curved edge made it's cutting arc hard to predict or deflect, and it had a massive range advantage. The pointed bottom of the scythe also proved a deadly spear-like weapon as evidenced by the deep crack on the dark ice crystal of his breastplate where the point had struck him as it was thrusted at him.
The Sentinel, however, stood as he had before, solemnly and unmoving like a statue as he watched Alan. He had no wounds to speak of and had not taken even the tiniest hit from Alan.
"You are skilled in fighting, Alan. As you are also skilled in the art of Cryomancy. However, to defeat the watchers, you must use both of them." The Sentinel said.
Alan gritted his teeth, tasting the coppery taste of blood in his mouth as he forced himself up onto his feet again. He let out a harsh cry as he charged the Sentinel, slashing upwards with his Sword. The Sentinel brought up his Scythe, using the handle to deflect Alan's slash away as Alan spun around, his free hand shooting out as an Ice shard exploded out, almost guaranteed to hit the Sentinel at this point blank range. Yet, the Sentinel simply spun his scythe around faster than believable, catching the ice-shard in mid flight and smacking it aside.
And with that same speed, the scythe came slicing down as it was all Alan to spin away from the slash. His cape was sliced off as he spun his body out of the way, the scythe severing through it. He took a few steps back, looking down under his arm at the remainder of his cape. It was sliced in a diagonal way due to his slash, the lowest point being only a few inches. That was how close he had come to being slashed apart.
"You are not using them together, Champion." The Sentinel said as Alan frowned, gritting his teeth in anger. "Of course I am, I just did right then!"
"You used them together. But you didn't use them together. Iceborn blood flows through your veins, but you do not see the power in them." The Sentinel said as Alan's frown became more pronounced, trying to decipher what the man meant. Frig Ascutis pulsed in his hands as he looked down at it's dark ice blade….
Dark Ice Blade.
It was as if a whole new door had made it's presence known inside of Alan's mind. Suddenly, he visualized himself standing infront of a wall in his mind. Where there had been naught but white wall infront of him, now there was a door. He reached to it with his mind, reached out for it and opened it. It was scary… His foot was hesitating. He was hesitating. And then… He stepped through the door.
Alan almost staggered from the amount of power that invaded his body. It felt as though he were discovering his entire body anew for the first time. Iceborn blood. He could control ice. He Was Ice.
He felt the trickling warmth spreading through each and every vein in his body. Frig Ascutis was vibrating in his hands, as if it was doing it's utmost best in shaking itself off of him yet he knew it wouldn't fall from his grasp.
And then, the warmth in his veins turned into burning cold...
USERNAME: WingsofRequiem (feel free to call me Wings)
AGE GROUP: 20s.
EXPERIENCE: 8 years of roleplay and fiction writing.
WHERE DID YOU FIND US? Advertisement on the Proboards roleplay forums.
