Styxe
Character's Name: Denton Picard
Character Alias: Call him Styxe
Character's Age: 17
Character's Gender: Male
Character's Current Residence: None<3
Characters Hair Color: Dyed black. If he doesn't treat it, his dark brown roots will start to grow in.
Character's Hair Style: The matte locks are stringy, crudely styled since he or a friend will end up cutting it. Some strands will flop over on his forehead, the others curl against the nape of his neck.
Character's Eyes: Coal grey, almost a black.
Character's Skin Tone: Mostly pale, but in the summer he'll accumulate a light tan.
Character Physique: The thin frame of a boy, hardened by years of street fighting and abuse. Lean muscles shape his arms and his chest. His torso makes up an almost perfect V, with the lines of his chest moving inward and down toward his skinny waist. Any type of jeans that fit him lengthwise will not fit his hips, so they’re loose, baggy around his waist. He has a slightly arrogant stance about him, with his chin up, back arched slightly, fingers curled in the belt loops of his jeans.
Distinguishing Marks: A scar on his right bicep, about two inches long, only a centimeter thick; a branding with the letters FA on his right hip; puckered white skin on his right forearm from a gunshot wound.
Character's Attire: Anything he can scavenge. He likes to keep his load light, so fitted jeans (a lot of belts) and slim-fitting shirts, along with a single black work-out hoodie make up his attire.
History: Born in the London ghetto, Styxe lived in a small apartment building with his mother. His father had gone off only god-knows-where and had taken his brother, whom Styxe had never known, with him. So Styxe had been left with a mother who had a habit of slipping out of reality to go off on a better place, and when she did come back, it was with anger, stone-cold rage that was taken out on Styxe. Styxe, so softspoken as a child, hardened over the years. He joined a gang so he'd stop getting beaten in the streets, so he'd have a chance to get away from his sardonic mother. The Faceless Assassins are his real family.
Personality: Despite being rash, Styxe is amazing at improv. If he's stuck in a sticky situation with only a few seconds to figure something out he'll manage to do it more often than not. It will typically be under some type of crazy adrenaline-induced scheme. His mouth, howevver, can get the best of him, in more ways than one. Styxe has been told various times, by various people, that he doesn't know when to shut the eff up. He could ramble on for hours and to others this can be quite irritating.
To go with his loquacious personality, Styxe is temperamental and quick into action. He doesn't take too long to process things, and any elaborate puzzle thrown his way will usually end up with him skimming over the surface, so to speak.
Intelligence: He's street-smart. That should count enough.
Strength: Eh, he's alright. So many years of gang fights and running around London kept him fit.
Speed: 6'0'', the boy's got grasshopper legs and the speed to go with 'em.
Agility: He's a little ungainly, but he can manage...for the most part.
Durability: Once a kid learns not to pay any attention to pay, he can be pretty ruthless in a fight.
Character Alias: Call him Styxe
Character's Age: 17
Character's Gender: Male
Character's Current Residence: None<3
Characters Hair Color: Dyed black. If he doesn't treat it, his dark brown roots will start to grow in.
Character's Hair Style: The matte locks are stringy, crudely styled since he or a friend will end up cutting it. Some strands will flop over on his forehead, the others curl against the nape of his neck.
Character's Eyes: Coal grey, almost a black.
Character's Skin Tone: Mostly pale, but in the summer he'll accumulate a light tan.
Character Physique: The thin frame of a boy, hardened by years of street fighting and abuse. Lean muscles shape his arms and his chest. His torso makes up an almost perfect V, with the lines of his chest moving inward and down toward his skinny waist. Any type of jeans that fit him lengthwise will not fit his hips, so they’re loose, baggy around his waist. He has a slightly arrogant stance about him, with his chin up, back arched slightly, fingers curled in the belt loops of his jeans.
Distinguishing Marks: A scar on his right bicep, about two inches long, only a centimeter thick; a branding with the letters FA on his right hip; puckered white skin on his right forearm from a gunshot wound.
Character's Attire: Anything he can scavenge. He likes to keep his load light, so fitted jeans (a lot of belts) and slim-fitting shirts, along with a single black work-out hoodie make up his attire.
History: Born in the London ghetto, Styxe lived in a small apartment building with his mother. His father had gone off only god-knows-where and had taken his brother, whom Styxe had never known, with him. So Styxe had been left with a mother who had a habit of slipping out of reality to go off on a better place, and when she did come back, it was with anger, stone-cold rage that was taken out on Styxe. Styxe, so softspoken as a child, hardened over the years. He joined a gang so he'd stop getting beaten in the streets, so he'd have a chance to get away from his sardonic mother. The Faceless Assassins are his real family.
Personality: Despite being rash, Styxe is amazing at improv. If he's stuck in a sticky situation with only a few seconds to figure something out he'll manage to do it more often than not. It will typically be under some type of crazy adrenaline-induced scheme. His mouth, howevver, can get the best of him, in more ways than one. Styxe has been told various times, by various people, that he doesn't know when to shut the eff up. He could ramble on for hours and to others this can be quite irritating.
To go with his loquacious personality, Styxe is temperamental and quick into action. He doesn't take too long to process things, and any elaborate puzzle thrown his way will usually end up with him skimming over the surface, so to speak.
Intelligence: He's street-smart. That should count enough.
Strength: Eh, he's alright. So many years of gang fights and running around London kept him fit.
Speed: 6'0'', the boy's got grasshopper legs and the speed to go with 'em.
Agility: He's a little ungainly, but he can manage...for the most part.
Durability: Once a kid learns not to pay any attention to pay, he can be pretty ruthless in a fight.