DEUS EX MACHINA PERSONNEL FORM
The HunterName: Obadiah Ezekiel Habakkuk Thompson
Nicknames: Taym, but he won't tell anyone why
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Category: I was looking at Life and Death for this but I have been informed that there is a hazing trial for Life that involves Jenga which may not be the best thing for a character with hand tremors.
... Death.
The WeaponName: Fionnghal
Nicknames: Fiona
Type of Weapon: A remarkably utilitarian, antler-hilted, foot-long dirk with a blade of dark metal.
Unsummoned Form: A plain steel ring with no decoration, save that the inside is engraved Oportet vivere along one side and Moriendum est along the other.
Former species of weapon: Ghost
Gender: Female
Personalities:
Taym:
Taym was a wild and headstrong boy even as a child, and his over-indulgent mother let him get away with it right up into his teens, when he developed a sullen streak and a gnawing need to impress his peers by being seen as a devil-may-care rebel. The result at twenty-five is an angry, bitter, even arrogant man whose adult life might be charitably described as a series of poor choices.
With a naturally addictive personality, Taym has a list of habitual vices that read like a series of warning sermons: the evils of alcohol, nicotine, women, gambling, and other less-aboveboard habits drain what little income he manages to scrape up, and led to his being booted out of the house at eighteen, immediately after graduating. They've also contributed to a prematurely-aged body, a jaded point of view, a temper that veers wildly from affable to destructive, and hands that shake occasionally from the vestiges of nerve damage.
Removed from his poisonous influences Taym is slightly more pleasant but not much more predictable. His obsession with words leads him to drop obscure synonyms into conversations in a desperate and subconscious attempt to remind himself that he once knew things, and can be verbose when he is nervous or uncomfortable--which is usually. That pause after he learns your name is him mentally arranging its letters into a memorable acrostic. He has something of a hair trigger, but those who've known him long enough learn what things are likely to bring about one of his vicious mood swings. He maintains, also, a strong sense of "Other" and an instinctive desire for a clear "Us" against a clear "Them." This leads to him maintaining some astonishingly bigoted views. He's not stupid enough to air them aloud, but he doesn't always mind his face when confronted with the things he finds disgusting.
He is capable, though: during his periods of focus, when he has motivation to push him, he works hard (having seen firsthand the perils of laziness and complacency) and takes his responsibilities seriously. A guiding hand can do wonders to set him on a course of improvement, as evidenced by the fact that when he is employed he is generally stable. Too often, though, his physical dependencies and a crippling lack of self-esteem (which creeps in eventually, leading him to doubt himself and fall back into self-destruction) cause him to lose the trust of those who would help him, and set him right back where he started.
He is intensely loyal, with a protective streak that can sometimes lead to him White Knighting where he is both incapable and unwanted. Although he desperately needs taking care of, he requires careful handling: if he feels he is being condescended to or nursed over, he will lash out. In his lowest moments he can find it difficult to stop before verbal violence turns physical, but a general physical frailty compared to most people his age keeps the worst of his tendencies in check. His long periods of friendly amiability are broken up by introverted, brooding episodes; both are strung together with a constant thread of self-deprecating sarcasm. He is polite, even formal, to anyone he deems worthy, and he can be charming when he is comfortable and unthreatened. Among friends he tempers his snark and criticism with genuine kindness.
Fionnghal: She was once the ghost of an antlered Hind: a self-possessed, gentle doe. A steely but feminine creature who takes her duties seriously, she is soft spoken but resolute; dignified and protective, with a maternal streak. She believes that the only true virtue is to be married to one's work, and that one's work should always be bent to the greater good. Her playful side manifests only occasionally, and typically on the heels of some achievement or victory. She is otherwise quiet--even submissive, although turn that pliancy towards a goal she feels is unrighteous and she becomes as unyielding as an oak. She has a businesslike, reserved mien and tends towards excessive formalities, which suits Taym perfectly--usually. Sometimes he has to remind her not to call him "sir" and insists on calling her Fanny until she complies.
Why did your human character choose to become a Hunter?
Partly because he had nothing to lose; partly because he's always wanted, desperately, to be a hero. To be useful. To do something admirable.
He's been slumming it around and engaging in questionable activities since he was a teenager (he picked up smoking at thirteen) and was kicked out of his house almost seven years ago, when he turned eighteen. He's spent a few nights in jail for possession, a couple for loitering; he's slept in doorways and back alleys and on strangers' couches. He has effectively lost contact with his entire family, especially after a particularly turbulent period a couple of years ago. Nearly a decade of hard drug use has left him half-broken, and it's only through a recent go at something like the Sick Boy Method (not that he'd get the reference) that Taym's come out on top of his addictions once again--although living in the streets means that he is constantly exposed to the temptation to relapse. An invitation out, to somewhere controlled and separated from his bad influences, would be a godsend.
He is slowly coming to the realization that if he does not find something to do--something to draw his manic focus and addictive personality away from their current pursuits and towards something productive--then he will die in the street somewhere, and sooner rather than later. If it takes a near-death experience to trigger a person's receptiveness to FEAR, Taym has spent the past several months in one continuous state of readiness. It would be a perverse relief to think that the grim things seen from the corner of his eye are more than hallucinations.
The idea of being picked out for a noble task would appeal to him; even anonymous heroism is heroism. The idea of fighting appeals to him as much as it terrifies him (not that he'd ever admit the latter), but he can also be at times good at watching, listening, and going unnoticed.
Weapon Ability
As with almost everything she does, Fiona's ability is quiet and understated: the runes of the blade glow, and dappled canopy light plays over the hilt for a split second as she delivers a heal. (The Chill)
Physical Description:
Eye Colour: Dark brown (almost black)
Hair Colour/Style: Dark brown; wavy, kept shortish on the sides/back and a little longer on the top, with moderate sideburns. Has a pretty steep widow's peak. You'd almost think he was going prematurely bald. Don't suggest that to him. It's usually swept forward and sorta limply to one side over his forehead, but he'll sweep it back when the mood strikes.Skin Colour: Sallow Caucasian, with a five o'clock shadow and an uneven smattering of moles/isolated freckles/premature age spots. Don't suggest that last one to him either, they're freckles, dammit. The bags under his eyes have a bluish-purplish, oily sheen to them.
Clothing Style/Colours:
Taym's coat is as short as he's allowed to make it, and he has a tendency to obnoxiously pop the collar. Combined with the way he wears his scarf--tucked up close and tidy--this suggests that perhaps he is trying to hide how scrawny his neck is. It almost works, but if anything emphasizes how slight his shoulders are.
Beneath his coat he wears utilitarian things to work: motorcycle/engineer boots, a pair of black/dark jeans or black/dark brown Dockers-style pants, an olive or brown t-shirt or a dark button-down tucked in, with a belt. He thinks if you're on the job you ought to look like you're on the damn job, so he dresses plainly and neatly when he's working, with no extraneous accessories. Even if he still can't manage to keep his stubble down.
Extra: He has a generally sickly air: heavy dark circles, puffy red eyelids, and a body far, far too thin, with the jut of his hipbones and even his ribcage visible when his coat is swept back by his hands in his pockets. His scrawniness is most noticeable in his hands, which are bony and, if you watch him long enough, prey to the occasional tremor. He usually wraps up his palms or wears fingerless black gloves; it's not uncommon for his knuckles to be sporting a band-aid or two. He is rough on his hands and it shows.
References:
Something like this for the coat (albeit longer, just over the butt if I can make it that short) but with double pockets like this.
And various refs throughout thread too of course!
