Post by Kimblee/Sloth on Aug 13, 2008 12:39:25 GMT -5
Name:
Sloth (Formerly Patrick Jovenholl)
Age:
Appears 23
Gender:
Male
Race:
Homonculus
Side:
Has not taken any side.
Official Name:
Rank:
Headquarters:
Alchemy:
Abilities:
Sloth has a highly resistant skin, able to handle most attacks, not even taking harm from bullets. Tank rounds are capable of harming him, but his regenerative powers will help him overcome the damage quickly.
Like the original Sloth he possesses extraordinary physical strength.
Weapons:
Two Desert Eagle's
Other:
[Any other important things you might've forgotten to mention. Or something you want us to know about your character that doesn't fit anywhere else.]
********************
Relationship Status:
Alone
Family:
All family has long since passed away. If he has any living relatives, he is not aware of it.
Animal Companion:
*******************
Physical Descriptions:
Sloth stands at 1,8m tall, but he is always leaning over and bending his knees, so he appears much more short than he actually is.
He has black hair covering his ears, neck and left eye. He has added a touch of purple to it, to make himself appear more unique. He wears a plain white t-shirt and a pair of jeans underneath a bottle green jacket. He has a tattoo of a creature, seemingly a crossing of a snake and a hawk, covering most of his back. Black leather gloves are pure standard to him, he never takes them off. Wherever he travels, he will bring his backpack, mainly filled with crackers and beer.
He is not particularly muscular, he leans more towards the appearance of somebody who never lifts anything heavier than a pencil. The impression that he gives most people at first sight is surprise. Surprise in the fact that he has the strength to lift his own body every morning.
His eyes are blue and his Ouroboros tattoo is located on his right shoulder, with a bandage over it, to keep it covered up even if he should take off his jacket.
He carries a black cloak, with orange sleeves in when cold, windy or raining. The cloak is covered in old dirt and food-stains, and gives him the look of a poor person.
He carries a two Desert Eagle's, one in a holster under his left arm, the other in his right sleeve. He uses them whenever he is in danger, with the great accuracy that Patrick used to be know for. When traveling he carries a blue umbrella with him, if it should start to rain. Sloth still wears Patrick's old army boots because of the fact that they are water-proof, and handy when traveling by foot. He always has a small notebook in his breast-pocket to write things in so he doesn't forget, but it's usually not much help because he just forgets the fact that he has a notebook.
Personality:
While his status as a Humonculus has effectively separated him from humans forever, he enjoys their company. He is often found at bars and taverns, drinking to his hearths content. He loves to enjoy his life, if it can even be called that. He still cannot decide how he feels, mainly because he pushes his feelings away, afraid to face them. He does not consider himself human anymore, so he looks up to them. He lives separated from other Humonculus, because he denies being one and therefore stays out of their way if possible.
Should he ever decide to do something, he will quit again if it seems to difficult or dangerous. He rarely follows through and he is afraid of losing the last thing that remain of him. He desires for all to think of him as a good person before he will ever let himself die. He likes attention, but prefers to keep his origins hidden. He loves animals, and can often be seen with various animals around him. Cats are his preferred animal, because they sleep a lot, and they are free just like him.
He walks about on his own, mainly without any purpose. He lives off what he has, and what he can get. But mainly what he has because he rarely bothers gathering food by himself. While he is still a Humonculus, he retains certain characteristics from his old self, and even calls himself by this name if possible. Sloth is not the type to kill without a reason, and even if he has a good reason by certain standards, he will still be likely to kill. He is just that type of guy. When he is in a battle he will mainly rely on his gun. While he has the power to bend steel, he rarely uses it, because it would give him away quickly.
He truly is the embodiment of Sloth. His attention is wavering, he rarely stays focused, he enjoys the comfort of the familiar and it is not unusual for him to fall asleep in the middle of something important. But despite his laziness he still fights for what he believes.
Background:
Before Death: Patrick was a young boy, growing up in a mountain town not far from the Northern Headquarters. The days where long, but there where plenty of work for a young boy such as himself. He would carry coal to the blacksmith, help build new houses, or run other errands for the people in the town. His mother loved for him and his three brothers, and their father cared greatly for them.
His first brother Michael, the oldest of the four was very intelligent, he would sit alone in his room for days, reading books and writing notes. He was very strict when it came to rules, and often scolded his younger brothers when they did something wrong. But he cared for all of them, despite appearances.
His second brother Julian was the physically strongest of the four, he was the apprentice of the blacksmith, dreaming to one day become a automail mechanic.
Patrick himself was the third in line. The last brother was Injuu. He was the freak of the family. He liked to be alone, barely ever talking to the others. He would just go somewhere, sit down and stare off into empty space.
This was Patrick's world, for 16 years. That was until he was enlisted.
He became a private in the army, and was sent to the Northern Headquarters to serve was a soldier. He was trained in anything from hand-to-hand combat to making bombs. After 4 years of training, he was placed in the 7th unit of the Northern Headquarters as a Major, 9th in command of a unit of 400 men. Their purpose was to interfere in civilian riots that the police could not handle.
During his time as a Major, he became acquainted with the state alchemist of the 7th unit. He was four years older than Patrick and as kind as him, so the two quickly became close. His name was Ounira. He would tell Patrick of the wonders of Alchemy, and he would listen to his tales of this magnificent power. It seemed that Ounira was doing some research on an object known as a "Philosophers Stone". It seemed like a powerful object, to give power to alchemists.
One day Ounira was sent on a mission with a large chunk of the soldiers. Only 20 of them where left in the camp, and Patrick was the highest ranking remaining at headquarters. Patrick decided to take a peak into Ounira's room. It was cramped with books on alchemy, and charts that he could never even hope to understand. He walked over to the desk, and tried opening the first drawer. It was locked. Patrick tried to open them, because he had always been a curious individual, and he was sure that Ounira wouldn't mind if he just took a peak. He searched all over the room, and finally he found a key. He used it to open the drawer. Inside it was a small red stone. Patrick tried to pick it up, to get a better look at it.
Death and Resurrection: The feeling was horrible. It was as if his flesh was being burned underneath the stone. He tried to throw it away, but it was moving into his hand, attached to him. The pain was excruciating, unbearable, unthinkable. What was this thing? Why would Ounira keep something so horrible in his office? He wished he had never entered in the first place. Patrick's body tried desperately to overcome the invasion. His thoughts where messed up, he could not tell what was up or down, he lost all sense of direction. He could not even sense his own thoughts from the mass of new memories swarming in on him. His mind was bend to the last bit of its limit, and even beyond it.
He had no idea how long it had been. He was lying face-down against the floor, in the office. It looked as if somebody had dropped a bomb in here. It took him a while to gather his thoughts. Somewhere deep in his mind he could sense that he had become...stronger. Supreme. Complete.
Sloth (Formerly Patrick Jovenholl)
Age:
Appears 23
Gender:
Male
Race:
Homonculus
Side:
Has not taken any side.
Abilities:
Sloth has a highly resistant skin, able to handle most attacks, not even taking harm from bullets. Tank rounds are capable of harming him, but his regenerative powers will help him overcome the damage quickly.
Like the original Sloth he possesses extraordinary physical strength.
Weapons:
Two Desert Eagle's
Other:
[Any other important things you might've forgotten to mention. Or something you want us to know about your character that doesn't fit anywhere else.]
********************
Relationship Status:
Alone
Family:
All family has long since passed away. If he has any living relatives, he is not aware of it.
*******************
Physical Descriptions:
Sloth stands at 1,8m tall, but he is always leaning over and bending his knees, so he appears much more short than he actually is.
He has black hair covering his ears, neck and left eye. He has added a touch of purple to it, to make himself appear more unique. He wears a plain white t-shirt and a pair of jeans underneath a bottle green jacket. He has a tattoo of a creature, seemingly a crossing of a snake and a hawk, covering most of his back. Black leather gloves are pure standard to him, he never takes them off. Wherever he travels, he will bring his backpack, mainly filled with crackers and beer.
He is not particularly muscular, he leans more towards the appearance of somebody who never lifts anything heavier than a pencil. The impression that he gives most people at first sight is surprise. Surprise in the fact that he has the strength to lift his own body every morning.
His eyes are blue and his Ouroboros tattoo is located on his right shoulder, with a bandage over it, to keep it covered up even if he should take off his jacket.
He carries a black cloak, with orange sleeves in when cold, windy or raining. The cloak is covered in old dirt and food-stains, and gives him the look of a poor person.
He carries a two Desert Eagle's, one in a holster under his left arm, the other in his right sleeve. He uses them whenever he is in danger, with the great accuracy that Patrick used to be know for. When traveling he carries a blue umbrella with him, if it should start to rain. Sloth still wears Patrick's old army boots because of the fact that they are water-proof, and handy when traveling by foot. He always has a small notebook in his breast-pocket to write things in so he doesn't forget, but it's usually not much help because he just forgets the fact that he has a notebook.
Personality:
While his status as a Humonculus has effectively separated him from humans forever, he enjoys their company. He is often found at bars and taverns, drinking to his hearths content. He loves to enjoy his life, if it can even be called that. He still cannot decide how he feels, mainly because he pushes his feelings away, afraid to face them. He does not consider himself human anymore, so he looks up to them. He lives separated from other Humonculus, because he denies being one and therefore stays out of their way if possible.
Should he ever decide to do something, he will quit again if it seems to difficult or dangerous. He rarely follows through and he is afraid of losing the last thing that remain of him. He desires for all to think of him as a good person before he will ever let himself die. He likes attention, but prefers to keep his origins hidden. He loves animals, and can often be seen with various animals around him. Cats are his preferred animal, because they sleep a lot, and they are free just like him.
He walks about on his own, mainly without any purpose. He lives off what he has, and what he can get. But mainly what he has because he rarely bothers gathering food by himself. While he is still a Humonculus, he retains certain characteristics from his old self, and even calls himself by this name if possible. Sloth is not the type to kill without a reason, and even if he has a good reason by certain standards, he will still be likely to kill. He is just that type of guy. When he is in a battle he will mainly rely on his gun. While he has the power to bend steel, he rarely uses it, because it would give him away quickly.
He truly is the embodiment of Sloth. His attention is wavering, he rarely stays focused, he enjoys the comfort of the familiar and it is not unusual for him to fall asleep in the middle of something important. But despite his laziness he still fights for what he believes.
Background:
Before Death: Patrick was a young boy, growing up in a mountain town not far from the Northern Headquarters. The days where long, but there where plenty of work for a young boy such as himself. He would carry coal to the blacksmith, help build new houses, or run other errands for the people in the town. His mother loved for him and his three brothers, and their father cared greatly for them.
His first brother Michael, the oldest of the four was very intelligent, he would sit alone in his room for days, reading books and writing notes. He was very strict when it came to rules, and often scolded his younger brothers when they did something wrong. But he cared for all of them, despite appearances.
His second brother Julian was the physically strongest of the four, he was the apprentice of the blacksmith, dreaming to one day become a automail mechanic.
Patrick himself was the third in line. The last brother was Injuu. He was the freak of the family. He liked to be alone, barely ever talking to the others. He would just go somewhere, sit down and stare off into empty space.
This was Patrick's world, for 16 years. That was until he was enlisted.
He became a private in the army, and was sent to the Northern Headquarters to serve was a soldier. He was trained in anything from hand-to-hand combat to making bombs. After 4 years of training, he was placed in the 7th unit of the Northern Headquarters as a Major, 9th in command of a unit of 400 men. Their purpose was to interfere in civilian riots that the police could not handle.
During his time as a Major, he became acquainted with the state alchemist of the 7th unit. He was four years older than Patrick and as kind as him, so the two quickly became close. His name was Ounira. He would tell Patrick of the wonders of Alchemy, and he would listen to his tales of this magnificent power. It seemed that Ounira was doing some research on an object known as a "Philosophers Stone". It seemed like a powerful object, to give power to alchemists.
One day Ounira was sent on a mission with a large chunk of the soldiers. Only 20 of them where left in the camp, and Patrick was the highest ranking remaining at headquarters. Patrick decided to take a peak into Ounira's room. It was cramped with books on alchemy, and charts that he could never even hope to understand. He walked over to the desk, and tried opening the first drawer. It was locked. Patrick tried to open them, because he had always been a curious individual, and he was sure that Ounira wouldn't mind if he just took a peak. He searched all over the room, and finally he found a key. He used it to open the drawer. Inside it was a small red stone. Patrick tried to pick it up, to get a better look at it.
Death and Resurrection: The feeling was horrible. It was as if his flesh was being burned underneath the stone. He tried to throw it away, but it was moving into his hand, attached to him. The pain was excruciating, unbearable, unthinkable. What was this thing? Why would Ounira keep something so horrible in his office? He wished he had never entered in the first place. Patrick's body tried desperately to overcome the invasion. His thoughts where messed up, he could not tell what was up or down, he lost all sense of direction. He could not even sense his own thoughts from the mass of new memories swarming in on him. His mind was bend to the last bit of its limit, and even beyond it.
He had no idea how long it had been. He was lying face-down against the floor, in the office. It looked as if somebody had dropped a bomb in here. It took him a while to gather his thoughts. Somewhere deep in his mind he could sense that he had become...stronger. Supreme. Complete.