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| Zacheriah James; Outlaw, Plain an' Simple | |
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| Topic Started: Aug 21 2015, 11:19 PM (103 Views) | |
| Zacheriah | Aug 21 2015, 11:19 PM Post #1 |
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Name - Zacheriah James Age - 37 Gender - Male Alignment - Money (Chaotic Neutral/Evil) Social Class - Commoner Occupation - Iron-For-Hire scoundrel, most'll tell ye Race - Human Nationality - America's Frontier Weapons - Bowie knife nine inch blade, five inch handle (To Be Obtained IC: Two "pistols" and a "Rife" weapons Zacheriah brought with him that have been enchanted to fire compressed fireballs and that regenerate ammunition over time, specifics to be discussed later) Physical Appearance - A mean looking man by all accounts, Zacheriah has a horizontal scar across his nose which has been broken many times and two diagonal scars on his left cheek. His black hair hangs about shoulder length, graying at the temples with a beard and mustache to match. His hard eyes are a amber color under a heavy brow, usually covered by a black hat. A dark red scarf hangs around his neck, contrasting with the dingy white button-down shirt and a long black leather duster-style jacket. Visual Aid Personality - Zacheriah is a simple man, simple interests, simple desires, simple pleasures. No great aspirations, just a want and willingness to make as much coin as he can. Gruff and rough are good words to describe his personality as a whole, seems like not much that goes across Zach's mind isn't said aloud. What you get is what you see. History - Born in no spectacular way Zacheriah James was the son of an unknown father and a half-price call girl in a low-down-no-town little place. Grew up stealing to get what he needed, and eventually ended up finding his way into an outlaw gang. It took many years of killing men and robbing whatever he could but Zach finally scratched and clawed his way to the top rung of the criminal ladder. Life was good, women were fast, money was plenty and the deeds were ugly, and that suited Zacheriah just fine. Zach and his wild bunch had made a name for themselves with a sizable bounty on everyone's head by the time the gang was asked to help in the relocation of some Natives in exchange for a full pardon. Zach agree and the merry men descended like a pack of hell hounds on a three legged cat. The atrocities and the evil that were played out by those men were unspeakable. Zacheriah pointed his pistol at a medicine man and stopped a moment, the man wasn't crying, he wasn't angry, he had a look of pity on his haggard face. "Wha's that look for eh?" The old native sighed, "I am sorry, for what is about to happen to you." Zach chuckled, "I got the gun old timer." The old man shook his head again, "You don't understand, you are leaving here." Zacheriah nodded "Yes I am, onto the next." Pulling the trigger he watched the old man fall from the last bullet in his gun and felt something strange, a tugging sensation in his gut. Waking up in the grass Zach looked around, confusion on his face. He was in the desert, why did he wake up in a forest? Three weeks later Zacheriah still had his empty guns, his sharp knife and his skill with his hands, this new place, this new world, he's make the best of it, he always did. Abilities
Note: both of the firearms are restricted to the physical properties of a projectile of magical origin. Resistance to magic and resistance to fire will lessen the power of the rounds. This profile has been approved by Dnan! Edited by Zacheriah, Aug 31 2015, 07:01 PM.
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