Post by Kitty on Apr 7, 2012 14:33:38 GMT -5
General Information
Name: Carlton, Danny
Nickname: Spoon Boy, Loser, Idiot, etc.
Age: 17
Orientation: Heterosexual
Appearance:
[If you substituted the glasses for a pair of slightly smaller, rounder sunglasses, it'd pretty much be a spitting image.]
Height: 5'8''
Clothing preference: Danny usually can be seen loafing around in a zip-up hoodie or sweatshirt, jeans, and whatever clean shirt he can find.
Special markings:
Weapon: Spoons, the occasional tree branch, anything laying around.
Ability: Bending [Danny is very weak in his ability, so the most he can really work with at the moment is small objects. He occasionally bends spoons.]
Specialty in combat: Retreating
Role in organization: "Assassin"
Relations
Mother: Matilda (Brown) Carlton (alive): Interior Design Specialist
Father: Randolph Carlton (alive): Bug enthusiast
Siblings/Other: N/A
History
Short background:
Even with a father working as a bug expert and a fashionista mother, Danny lived a relatively normal childhood. He played outside, got average grades at the local public school, and sat down to dinner with his family each night. Matilda and Randolph were the type of parents that try to be cool and easy-going, doubling as parents and friends. The young boy did not have a problem with this. He found them both easy to talk to and be around. The couple enjoyed seeing their son grow, but also enjoyed seeing his innocent youth.
The boy's parents tried to teach him anything they could, figuring that their wealth of knowledge may come in handy one day. Danny would sit and listen to them, honestly trying to pay attention. His mother's chats would usually bore him. He understood the different things she was saying, but he had little to no interest in interior design or clothing. Matilda wrote it off, concluding that "boys will be boys." It did not bother her that he lacked an interest in fashion and design; as long as he did not wear black pants with a brown shirt or a print top with plaid pants, she was okay.
Danny's eyes would light up whenever it was his father's turn to try and teach him about life. The boy was always fascinated by the different insects and arachnids. His father was a fountain of information from which he could always drink. Danny learned what bugs were poisonous, which were painful to be bitten/stung by, how to cure bug-inflicted injuries, and even which bugs were good for eating. It was evident that in this respect, he took after his father.
When Danny started to get older, the bullying began. It was never anything too serious or life-threatening: a bloody nose here, a blackened eye there. His parents were slightly concerned. Had they raised their son to be a good person, or had they raised him to be a wuss? Randolph, especially, was afraid that his son would never bloom into a "man." Matilda always reassured him by saying that a young boy cannot be both a good person and a big shot--it just didn't work that way. This seemed to console Randal, but only because he enjoyed seeing how happy his family looked.
Life seemed to be overwhelmingly typical, but Danny didn't mind it one bit. He never longed for adventure beyond his comfort zone or being pushed to his limits. However, it seemed like the course of his life was blown far from his path of normalcy when he was struck over the head one day while walking to school. Unlike most of the mediocre injuries inflicted on him, this one sent him out cold. Next thing he knew, he found himself tied to a chair in some kind of subbasement.
"We know who you are," said a man's voice, hidden by darkness. "We are here to ask for your cooperation."
"Uh...Cool?"
Danny did not know how to handle being interrogated. The questions made no sense. He didn't know anything about the mob. He sputtered and babbled when trying to tell the strange man that he had no idea what was going on. Eventually, he gathered the words in his head:
"Look, dude... I hate to burst your scary-as-hell bubble, but..."
When suddenly, the sound of a door opening, slamming shut, and a pair of feet running down the stairs interrupted him.
"Um...Kain-sama? We captured an incorrect target."
Danny was sure that he heard a disgruntled sigh. Never the less, he was relieved. He was too over-joyed to bother asking where exactly he was. "Can I go, then?"
Little did he know that he would never get to leave. Just from those few moments, trapped in that chair, he had learned more information than the organization ever wished for him to learn. They decided that, rather than simply killing him and throwing his body back where they found him, they would keep him there. This would probably draw slightly less attention to them. From the few words he said, they could already tell that Danny was an idiot.
Danny did not want to be an assassin, but that's how the grand scheme of things worked out. Blood tests performed by the organization showed that he had some sort of great power within. One day, he picked up a spoon and stared at it. When he focused his full attention on it, it bent right in half. While this was "wickedly cool" in his opinion, the others simply shook their heads. It's a miracle that Danny's alive, but most see it as more of a curse than anything.
Personality:
To put it simply, Danny is a lovable idiot. No matter how much everyone around him denies it, they must enjoy his presence to some extent. If they didn't, he would have been long dead by now. He is not the sharpest tool in the shed, but his mouth has a mind of it's own. Danny is rarely, if ever, in the position to criticize anyone for anything, but he always seems to have some sort of snarky remark. He makes up for his lack in ability with plenty of comic relief. The other members of the organization can often times get a good chuckle out of his inept ways.
No matter how hot-headed and hot-tempered he comes off when provoked, he is really a rather relaxed person. He used to live a very laid-back lifestyle. (Of course, then he was told that he was going to become an assassin.) His lax nature can often been seen while he is sitting around at the base, watching television. Unlike most other assassins, Danny hates being assigned to missions. He likes being alive, and would prefer to not jeopardize his time in this world. Something about being surrounded by big, strong people carrying sharp objects doesn't really appeal to him.
The most concealed side of Danny is his soft side. Back in his normal world, he was raised by two caring parents to be the best person he can be. It's not really appropriate to let a golden heart shine through in a room full of seasoned killers. Sometimes, when he has free time alone, he writes letters to his parents. He does not want them to worry, but he does not want to risk both what little dignity he has and the safety of his loved ones by running away and returning home. Sometimes, his caring nature shows through; he has a tendency to stand up for the little guy. Mostly, the goodness inside of him is masked by layers and layers of stupid.
Likes:
- Bugs
- Sunglasses
- Thinking of himself as "cool"
- Bending spoons
Dislikes:
- Life-threatening situations
- Being picked on
- Not being able to bend anything but spoons
- Having to think harder than usual
Strengths:
- Knowledge of bugs
- Snappy Comebacks
- Good nature
- Blissfully ignorant
Weaknesses:
- Long-range combat
- Complete lack of Swordsmanship
- Loud footsteps
- So-so physical strength
- Lack of speed
- Big mouth
- Stupidly trusting at times
- Medically unintelligible
And Everything Else
Additional info:
[Can't think of anything else]
RP Sample:
It was a dark and stormy night. The wind was howling louder than any wolf he had ever heard. That might be because he had never really heard a wolf howl, but that was besides the point. It was cold and damp outside, but even colder and damper in the basement. There were people with frightening faces all around him, holding torches. He was presently on a table, shackled there by his neck, wrists and ankles. There was no escaping this one. He was able to scan the room from the corner of his eyes. Then, he saw it: an old wooden sign with letters that looked as if they were painted on with blood.
"Sasayaita Namida"
With a horrified gasp, Danny sat up in bed. He looked around, skeptical of his surroundings. A frown tugged his lips downwards. Nope. He was still there. Sasayaita Namida was, unfortunately, not a bad dream. This was actually happening to him. He was still "an assassin."
Throwing his legs over the side of his bed, he pulled himself to his feet. With loud, heavy footsteps, he trudged his way downstairs. He did not care that everyone in this organization was probably a light sleeper; actually, he had not even thought of such a thing. All he knew at that moment was that he was thirsty beyond belief.
The light that came on when he opened the refrigerator door was too bright for his eyes to handle, so he came up with the bright idea to just reach in and feel around for the glass bottle of milk. He knew that milk was the only thing that could really hit the spot at the moment. He felt glass, so he pulled it out of the refrigerator and popped the top off in one swift motion. Without even bothering to check the expiration date or anything of the sort, he started to down the milk.
His eyes widened as he spit the liquid out of his mouth and into the kitchen sink. "What the hell kind of milk is this?" he questioned aloud. Wishing he had his sunglasses on, he squinted at the bottle. This was probably the furthest thing from milk he could have possibly grabbed.
"Who the hell drinks pumpkin soda?!" he exclaimed in a fury. "I didn't even know they made pumpkin soda!"
Slamming the refrigerator door shut, he made the epic climb back to his room. He was done with this. The milk was not worth all the hardship he had already gone through.