Post by Masquerade on May 8, 2006 14:04:40 GMT 12
[Name >> Gabriel "Dust" MacOwen
[Known As >> Medic
[Age >> 15
[Gender >> Male
[Tribe >> Unaligned
[Rank >> Loner
[Nationality >> Irish [Canadian citizen.]
[Politics >> Law of the Concrete Jungle
[Romantic orientation >> Homosexual
[Appearance >> A street-kid long before the tragedy of New Pork took place, Dust's appearance has been shaped by years of hard living.
A pale complexion, and a thick thatch of blazing red hair, as well as the obligatory sprinkling of freckles, gives away his heritage as much as his surname does. His eyes are hazel, rather than the stereotypical green, however, but tend to be hidden behind the large, gold-framed Raybans he wears.
The sunglasses hang around his neck by a thin, touch cord when they aren't on his eyes, but are usually tucked into the large, thick plaid scarf that he's drapped over his shoulders and around his throat. His jacket is heavy, being made of dark brown couduroy and lined with plush, if a bit matted and aged, cream fleece. A pair of mittens, matching his scarf, are either seen on his hands or stuck into his coat pockets. His toque (or beanie as you weirdo's call it Dx), while trimmed with plaid, is primarily dark green. The pants suspended by the heavy leather belt cinched at his waist are jeans, although they are so covered with patches and bits of shoe-lace that it's hard to see much of the surviving demin.
Aside from his eclectic assortment of pants decorations, and his apparent love affair with tartan fabric, the most memorable feature of Dust is his large leather satchel that he carries slung over one shoulder and rests against his hip. Within this bag he carries a makeshift first-aid kit, a few dingy books on horticulture and field medicine, and his back-up weapons. A Red Cross emblem, as well as more than a few colorful patches, have been sewn onto the main flap of this bag.
The reason for the mittens, rather than gloves, is explained when he's sighted without them; his left little finger, as well as the first knuckle of his ring finger, are missing. The twisted scar tissue almost looks... chewed. Oddly enough, he's still left handed.
[Attitude >> Calm and collected, but displaying the 'fiery irish' fighting spirit when the times calls for it. He's a joker and an illusionist, prefering the art of deception to the art of combat. Not to say that he isn't deadly accurate with a knife, oh no... He's never without his weapons, mostly due to his nagging paranoia that the world is out to get him.
He's what most would call a realist, calling things as he sees them and usually against jumping to conclusions. First impressions are very important to Dust, as he believes them to be the best judge of a person’s character.
He's brutally honest, which some interpret as disrespect on his part, but he's really as sweet as a kitten. But even kittens bite if you tweak their whiskers.
[Notable History >> Born in the slums of Dublin, Dust has always had to look after himself. He was a wanderer, never staying in one place too long or making any real ties with anyone. Taken from a household dominated by a mother addicted to tranquilizers and a father with an unhealthy appreciation for alcohol and corporal punishment, he was thrown into the hands of the goverment run foster program at an early age.
Under the care of an ever changing array of foster families and social workers, it was no surprise to anyone when he disappeared (athough they said otherwise when asked, it was common knowledge behind the scenes that fozzie kids ran away all the time) at the age of eight, along with the 16-year-old girl he was fostering with in the same household.
Esta had been living on the streets with her two older brothers before she'd been taken into the system, and knew how to scrounge a living in the worst of neighborhoods. She taught Gabriel how to panhandle, pickpocket, and a variety of other talents that kept them from going hungry or being killed by the various gangs that ran through the city.
Life was a daily fight for survival, and somewhere along the lines it seems Gabriel lost a finger and a knuckle, but he escaped without the horrendous psychological scarring that affeted many of the children he knew during his time on the streets.
[Reputation >>Gay. Renowned for his rather wide knowledge of healing. In short, he's a field medic-type, able to patch others, and himself, up with surprising finesse with extremely limited resources. He's known commonly as "Medic" by those who've spotted him, due to the large Red Cross flag emblazoned on the flap of his satchel.
Only those who have heard Dust introduce himself know him by anything other then "Medic".
[Known As >> Medic
[Age >> 15
[Gender >> Male
[Tribe >> Unaligned
[Rank >> Loner
[Nationality >> Irish [Canadian citizen.]
[Politics >> Law of the Concrete Jungle
[Romantic orientation >> Homosexual
[Appearance >> A street-kid long before the tragedy of New Pork took place, Dust's appearance has been shaped by years of hard living.
A pale complexion, and a thick thatch of blazing red hair, as well as the obligatory sprinkling of freckles, gives away his heritage as much as his surname does. His eyes are hazel, rather than the stereotypical green, however, but tend to be hidden behind the large, gold-framed Raybans he wears.
The sunglasses hang around his neck by a thin, touch cord when they aren't on his eyes, but are usually tucked into the large, thick plaid scarf that he's drapped over his shoulders and around his throat. His jacket is heavy, being made of dark brown couduroy and lined with plush, if a bit matted and aged, cream fleece. A pair of mittens, matching his scarf, are either seen on his hands or stuck into his coat pockets. His toque (or beanie as you weirdo's call it Dx), while trimmed with plaid, is primarily dark green. The pants suspended by the heavy leather belt cinched at his waist are jeans, although they are so covered with patches and bits of shoe-lace that it's hard to see much of the surviving demin.
Aside from his eclectic assortment of pants decorations, and his apparent love affair with tartan fabric, the most memorable feature of Dust is his large leather satchel that he carries slung over one shoulder and rests against his hip. Within this bag he carries a makeshift first-aid kit, a few dingy books on horticulture and field medicine, and his back-up weapons. A Red Cross emblem, as well as more than a few colorful patches, have been sewn onto the main flap of this bag.
The reason for the mittens, rather than gloves, is explained when he's sighted without them; his left little finger, as well as the first knuckle of his ring finger, are missing. The twisted scar tissue almost looks... chewed. Oddly enough, he's still left handed.
[Attitude >> Calm and collected, but displaying the 'fiery irish' fighting spirit when the times calls for it. He's a joker and an illusionist, prefering the art of deception to the art of combat. Not to say that he isn't deadly accurate with a knife, oh no... He's never without his weapons, mostly due to his nagging paranoia that the world is out to get him.
He's what most would call a realist, calling things as he sees them and usually against jumping to conclusions. First impressions are very important to Dust, as he believes them to be the best judge of a person’s character.
He's brutally honest, which some interpret as disrespect on his part, but he's really as sweet as a kitten. But even kittens bite if you tweak their whiskers.
[Notable History >> Born in the slums of Dublin, Dust has always had to look after himself. He was a wanderer, never staying in one place too long or making any real ties with anyone. Taken from a household dominated by a mother addicted to tranquilizers and a father with an unhealthy appreciation for alcohol and corporal punishment, he was thrown into the hands of the goverment run foster program at an early age.
Under the care of an ever changing array of foster families and social workers, it was no surprise to anyone when he disappeared (athough they said otherwise when asked, it was common knowledge behind the scenes that fozzie kids ran away all the time) at the age of eight, along with the 16-year-old girl he was fostering with in the same household.
Esta had been living on the streets with her two older brothers before she'd been taken into the system, and knew how to scrounge a living in the worst of neighborhoods. She taught Gabriel how to panhandle, pickpocket, and a variety of other talents that kept them from going hungry or being killed by the various gangs that ran through the city.
Life was a daily fight for survival, and somewhere along the lines it seems Gabriel lost a finger and a knuckle, but he escaped without the horrendous psychological scarring that affeted many of the children he knew during his time on the streets.
[Reputation >>
Only those who have heard Dust introduce himself know him by anything other then "Medic".
