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by Dunkaroo 10/17/2015, 12:42 amName: Kerrigan Gibson
Physical Age: 18
Gender: Female
Father: Andrew Gibson
Mother: Felicia Gibson
Country of Origin: United States
Date of Birth: March 21, 1997
Place of Birth: Nashville
Home town: Nashville
Race/Ethnicity: Caucasian; mainly Scottish with sprinklings of others thrown in.
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 115 lbs
Body Type: Skinny (ectomorphic)
Skin Color: Pale
Hair Color: Red; usually in a wavy swept bun
Eye Color: Green
Appearance: Lithe with soft facial features and a well-proportioned body for her body-type; while quite skinny, she maintains a healthy look with average-sized hips and shoulders. Her legs are particularly thin, and slightly elongated compared to her arms and her upper body.
While often polite and respecting of others, Kerrigan is quite shy at heart and would often rather walk away from a situation than deal with it. Perhaps coming from a lack in this social aspect, she ends up being naive and can come off as either dumb, unreceptive, or having a lack of perception. Drawing from this naivete, Kerrigan has an unrealistic sense of idealism. She sees much of the world through rose-coloured glasses; and can often be taken advantage of. She has difficulty asking for help, and would rather deal with discomfort than inconvenience someone else. While she believes she has an objective view on what she's capable of, Kerrigan's self-doubting and often cops out or gives up when she doesn't see an easy way she can succeed. While she's quick to be polite, she's quite slow to be comfortable around people.
Flaws:
- Extremely quiet and socially anxious
- Naive
- She needs glasses (-4 in each eye)
- Self-doubting
- Extremely idealistic; Kerrigan is very slow to accept or face reality. She often believes the best in people, even when in reality they're horrible.
Skills/Talents:
- Can play the guitar extremely well; she's been practicing almost her entire life.
- An extensive knowledge of wilderness survival techniques
- Incredibly dexterous hands, owing to years of guitar-playing.
Strengths:
- From her lithe frame, Kerrigan is exceptionally agile.
- Though she may be naive, Kerrigan is a quick-thinker and is able to make snap decisions. This is especially useful in combat.
- Empathetic, allowing her to understand other's feelings much quicker than many other people.
Weaknesses:
- Empathetic. Kerrigan is heavily swayed and influenced by emotions.
- Weak. While she may be quick, her thin frame is particularly breakable, though less-so than a normal human, thanks to being a Hunter.
- Impressionable. Kerrigan is especially vulnerable to psychological warfare and strong personalities.
Likes:
- Music
- Guitars
- Artemis
- Animals
- Comfortable silences
Dislikes:
- Annoying noises
- Uncomfortable silences
- Overly rich foods
Pets: None
Weapon(s):
The usual; a magical silver bow, arrows, and two hunting knives that appear when she requires them.
Years as Hunter: Currently working on the first.
Life Before The Hunters:
Kerrigan was born in Nashville, Tennessee, to the illustrious Gibson family, owners and manufacturers of Gibson guitars. From an extremely early age, her interest in music was both encouraged and satisfied by her parents. While she was a fine student and a generally well-behaved daughter, Kerrigan was shy and incredibly private. It was common for her to lock herself in her room and practice on her personal guitar for hours, sometimes even an entire day. While her parents were cautious at first when her habit started to infringe on her schooling and social life, Kerrigan bought herself some leverage by agreeing to be groomed by her father to take over the business.
Kerrigan spent most of her adolescence in that very same room, enraptured by some poetic muse, pouring her heart and soul into her music. One evening, her entire household could hear her playing a particularly intricate and heartfelt piece while her parents enjoyed dinner downstairs. Oddly, the music stopped abruptly and her parents heard a crash. Rushing upstairs, they forced open her door to see Kerrigan staring at her hands and crying uncontrollably, her guitar strewn on the floor. She screamed that she couldn't feel her hands. At the hospital, Kerrigan learned she had Multiple Sclerosis. Faced by the reality of losing control of her own body, Kerrigan sank into a depression nothing could bring her out of. Months passed, and Kerrigan had begun to lose feeling in her upper body. She waited until that night in the hospital, picking up her guitar and strumming it one last time.
When she was finished, a Hunter attracted by her music offered her a place within them. Kerrigan's parents came to visit the next day, finding naught but a letter addressed to them. Whether from what they read in the letter or from their own belief that she'd come back on her own, their attempts to find her were were few and far between. Eventually, they lost any hope they had.
RP Example:
Kerrigan felt the bend, the curve of this piece of wood. This piece of nature, moulded and crafted into a tool of pure artistic impression. She wiped away her tears, solemn cascades reminding her of realities she would have to face, but not right now. Not right now. This was her time; this was her freedom. Wielding her soul in her fading hands, Kerrigan ran them over her favourite guitar's chords and began to play.
It was gentle; free. A pure expression of feeling, of emotion. Kerrigan's dexterous hands glided over her instrument, coercing beautiful melodious and angelic sounds. Fighting down the catch in her throat, she felt the rhythmic vibrations of her voice rise out of her, filling the air of the cold hospital.
Kerrigan choked back tears, her hands throbbing with pain and her chest heaving with effort.
The melancholic vibrations passed from room to room, beckoning a gush of emotion from all those who heard it. It was the gentle kiss of death, it was the hope of a tomorrow, it was a touch of a loved one. It was exactly what it needed to be, in the way only true expression can.
At the last line, the guitar fell from her battered hands and the blockade broke, tears gushing out of her eyes and sobs from her lips. After a few moments, she heard a capricious rebuttal; clapping, though she couldn't tell from where. From the doorway to her room came a particularly unorthodox sight. A 5 foot, spunky woman with blue hair entered the room, her presence demanding attention.
"Is that the dead puppy song they always play on the moving pictures for advertisement? 'Hi, my name is Sarah McGlauchlin and I'm about to ruin your night' song?" Asina said, standing in the shadow of the room glowing softly silver.
"I feel you wanting death. My father's realm calling to you. Maybe he wants another bard blessed by the muses. However, child, if you wish for something more than the quick snuff of a short flame, and if thou art pure and have courage and fortitude to pursue the course of a hundred lifetimes... I have a different path that can lead elsewhere than the River Styx."
Physical Age: 18
Gender: Female
Father: Andrew Gibson
Mother: Felicia Gibson
Country of Origin: United States
Date of Birth: March 21, 1997
Place of Birth: Nashville
Home town: Nashville
Race/Ethnicity: Caucasian; mainly Scottish with sprinklings of others thrown in.
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 115 lbs
Body Type: Skinny (ectomorphic)
Skin Color: Pale
Hair Color: Red; usually in a wavy swept bun
Eye Color: Green
Appearance: Lithe with soft facial features and a well-proportioned body for her body-type; while quite skinny, she maintains a healthy look with average-sized hips and shoulders. Her legs are particularly thin, and slightly elongated compared to her arms and her upper body.
- Spoiler:
While often polite and respecting of others, Kerrigan is quite shy at heart and would often rather walk away from a situation than deal with it. Perhaps coming from a lack in this social aspect, she ends up being naive and can come off as either dumb, unreceptive, or having a lack of perception. Drawing from this naivete, Kerrigan has an unrealistic sense of idealism. She sees much of the world through rose-coloured glasses; and can often be taken advantage of. She has difficulty asking for help, and would rather deal with discomfort than inconvenience someone else. While she believes she has an objective view on what she's capable of, Kerrigan's self-doubting and often cops out or gives up when she doesn't see an easy way she can succeed. While she's quick to be polite, she's quite slow to be comfortable around people.
Flaws:
- Extremely quiet and socially anxious
- Naive
- She needs glasses (-4 in each eye)
- Self-doubting
- Extremely idealistic; Kerrigan is very slow to accept or face reality. She often believes the best in people, even when in reality they're horrible.
Skills/Talents:
- Can play the guitar extremely well; she's been practicing almost her entire life.
- An extensive knowledge of wilderness survival techniques
- Incredibly dexterous hands, owing to years of guitar-playing.
Strengths:
- From her lithe frame, Kerrigan is exceptionally agile.
- Though she may be naive, Kerrigan is a quick-thinker and is able to make snap decisions. This is especially useful in combat.
- Empathetic, allowing her to understand other's feelings much quicker than many other people.
Weaknesses:
- Empathetic. Kerrigan is heavily swayed and influenced by emotions.
- Weak. While she may be quick, her thin frame is particularly breakable, though less-so than a normal human, thanks to being a Hunter.
- Impressionable. Kerrigan is especially vulnerable to psychological warfare and strong personalities.
Likes:
- Music
- Guitars
- Artemis
- Animals
- Comfortable silences
Dislikes:
- Annoying noises
- Uncomfortable silences
- Overly rich foods
Pets: None
Weapon(s):
The usual; a magical silver bow, arrows, and two hunting knives that appear when she requires them.
Years as Hunter: Currently working on the first.
Life Before The Hunters:
Kerrigan was born in Nashville, Tennessee, to the illustrious Gibson family, owners and manufacturers of Gibson guitars. From an extremely early age, her interest in music was both encouraged and satisfied by her parents. While she was a fine student and a generally well-behaved daughter, Kerrigan was shy and incredibly private. It was common for her to lock herself in her room and practice on her personal guitar for hours, sometimes even an entire day. While her parents were cautious at first when her habit started to infringe on her schooling and social life, Kerrigan bought herself some leverage by agreeing to be groomed by her father to take over the business.
Kerrigan spent most of her adolescence in that very same room, enraptured by some poetic muse, pouring her heart and soul into her music. One evening, her entire household could hear her playing a particularly intricate and heartfelt piece while her parents enjoyed dinner downstairs. Oddly, the music stopped abruptly and her parents heard a crash. Rushing upstairs, they forced open her door to see Kerrigan staring at her hands and crying uncontrollably, her guitar strewn on the floor. She screamed that she couldn't feel her hands. At the hospital, Kerrigan learned she had Multiple Sclerosis. Faced by the reality of losing control of her own body, Kerrigan sank into a depression nothing could bring her out of. Months passed, and Kerrigan had begun to lose feeling in her upper body. She waited until that night in the hospital, picking up her guitar and strumming it one last time.
When she was finished, a Hunter attracted by her music offered her a place within them. Kerrigan's parents came to visit the next day, finding naught but a letter addressed to them. Whether from what they read in the letter or from their own belief that she'd come back on her own, their attempts to find her were were few and far between. Eventually, they lost any hope they had.
RP Example:
Kerrigan felt the bend, the curve of this piece of wood. This piece of nature, moulded and crafted into a tool of pure artistic impression. She wiped away her tears, solemn cascades reminding her of realities she would have to face, but not right now. Not right now. This was her time; this was her freedom. Wielding her soul in her fading hands, Kerrigan ran them over her favourite guitar's chords and began to play.
It was gentle; free. A pure expression of feeling, of emotion. Kerrigan's dexterous hands glided over her instrument, coercing beautiful melodious and angelic sounds. Fighting down the catch in her throat, she felt the rhythmic vibrations of her voice rise out of her, filling the air of the cold hospital.
"Spend all your time waiting
for that second chance
for a break that would make it okay
there's always some reason
to feel not good enough
and it's hard at the end of the day..."
for that second chance
for a break that would make it okay
there's always some reason
to feel not good enough
and it's hard at the end of the day..."
Kerrigan choked back tears, her hands throbbing with pain and her chest heaving with effort.
"I need some distraction
oh beautiful release
memories seep from my veins
let me be empty
and weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight..."
oh beautiful release
memories seep from my veins
let me be empty
and weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight..."
The melancholic vibrations passed from room to room, beckoning a gush of emotion from all those who heard it. It was the gentle kiss of death, it was the hope of a tomorrow, it was a touch of a loved one. It was exactly what it needed to be, in the way only true expression can.
"so tired of the straight line
and everywhere you turn
there's vultures and thieves at your back
and the storm keeps on twisting
you keep on building the lies
that you make up for all that you lack
it don't make no difference
escaping one last time
it's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh
this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees..."
and everywhere you turn
there's vultures and thieves at your back
and the storm keeps on twisting
you keep on building the lies
that you make up for all that you lack
it don't make no difference
escaping one last time
it's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh
this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees..."
At the last line, the guitar fell from her battered hands and the blockade broke, tears gushing out of her eyes and sobs from her lips. After a few moments, she heard a capricious rebuttal; clapping, though she couldn't tell from where. From the doorway to her room came a particularly unorthodox sight. A 5 foot, spunky woman with blue hair entered the room, her presence demanding attention.
"Is that the dead puppy song they always play on the moving pictures for advertisement? 'Hi, my name is Sarah McGlauchlin and I'm about to ruin your night' song?" Asina said, standing in the shadow of the room glowing softly silver.
"I feel you wanting death. My father's realm calling to you. Maybe he wants another bard blessed by the muses. However, child, if you wish for something more than the quick snuff of a short flame, and if thou art pure and have courage and fortitude to pursue the course of a hundred lifetimes... I have a different path that can lead elsewhere than the River Styx."
Last edited by Dunkaroo on 10/18/2015, 5:29 am; edited 2 times in total
