Post by Castor Creed on May 25, 2011 3:22:22 GMT -8
Creed, Castor
DEMIGOD
#1st, 2nd, etcetera 1st Year
Age:15
Son/Daughter of Apollo
Alliance: Undecided
DEMIGOD
#1st, 2nd, etcetera 1st Year
Age:15
Son/Daughter of Apollo
Alliance: Undecided
Appearance:
Eye(s): Brown
Hair: Black
Height: 6”1
Build Type: Athletic
Brief Description: Looking at Castor one just can’t help but be a little impressed. He stands just a little above average but usually looks taller to most people for his perfect posture. His skin is tanned from many long hours under the sun and his body ripples with compact musculature thanks to a grueling training regime that would leave a lesser demigod curled up in a corner sobbing. Castor’s eyes are a warm coffee brown and go from friendly and welcoming (usually if they are looking on a girl) to challenging and bored (usually looking at a boy that he doesn’t know) to cold and murderous (when looking at a monster) within the drop of a hat.
Background:
Mortal Parent(s): Jenine Creed-Mother (Alive)
Other Family: Shane Pollux-Adopted father/Trainer (Deceased)
Pets: A raven
Brief History:
Castor Henry Creed was born in Chicago to Jenine Creed and an unknown father. The Mist is strong in Chicago and it is a breeding ground for nasties and monsters, these facts combined together meant that Castor found out very quickly that he was not destined to live like other boys. Castor spent most of his childhood outrunning and hiding from monsters until his mother (who knew nothing of the problem and merely thought that Castor just had a serious issue with local kids) sent him to Canada to live with relatives. At this time Castor was seven years old. Upon reaching Canada and leaving the airport Castor was once again attacked by monsters when his guardian left to use the bathroom. He ran away and was cornered, but just before he could be killed a stranger intervened. A tall dark skin man sporting an eye patch and enough scars for anyone. The man quickly dispatched the two Chimeras then seeing Castor for what he was, a demigod like himself, he took Castor under his wing. His name was Shane Pollux.
So it was that Castor came to live with Shane out in the Canadian Wilderness. Shane, a son of Iris, quickly explained the score to Castor and the two soon developed a fat friendship despite Castor’s original hesitation to believe. Together they survived off the land, trained, and hunted monsters together wherever they came across them. This happy time lasted for seven years before disaster struck. Minotaurs attacked the duo’s cabin and took them unawares. Pollux gave his life to buy Castor the time he needed to get away. To the present day Castor still retains an intense hatred of the manbull. So it was that Castor wondered around the wild forests of Canada for another year, doing his best to slay any monsters that he came across until his rage smoldered out leaving him a depressed husk. He was finally discovered by a Satyr of Camp Halfblood who led him back to the legendary refuge.
Personality:
Likes:
- Archery
- Flirting with girls
- Sword fighting
- Being the son of a God
- His pet raven
Dislikes:
- Losing
- Monsters overall Minotaurs specific
- Girls that turn him down
- Annoying cabin mates
- Cats
Skills:
- Outstanding Archer: As can be expected as a child of Apollo Castor is an archer without peer. Due to countless hours of practice he is regarded as a good archer even among his own brethren. He can count the amount of times he has missed a target on one hand.
- Exceptional Swordsman: Castor takes great pride in his swordsmanship and it is indeed one of his greatest passion. He spends many long hours practicing with his blade ουσ. ηλιακό φως (Sunlight). His long hours of dedication has paid off as he is a formidable swordsman even in place like Camp Halfblood.
- Great Tracker/Hunter: Spending his youth in the Canadian Wilderness meant that Castor had two choice. He either hunted or starved. Years of hunting down elusive prey has left his hunting and tracking skills honed to their highest levels.
- Virtuoso: Being the son of Apollo means that Castor is a natural musician, he can carry a tune with the best of them and can play any instrument almost without any real effort.
- Wonderful Physician: Another inane ability gifted to him by his father. Thought he has never picked up a medical book in his life Castor has a great grasp of human anatomy, its failings, and how to best treat some of its maladies and injuries.
Weaknesses:
- Arrogance: In the world of Castor Creed there is nothing that Castor Creed cannot do. This has led to his undoing more than once.
- Lone Wolf Syndrome: Castor finds that companions are okay to hang out with but for everything else they aren’t worth nothing. This mentality has led him into more than one tight spot.
- Mule Stubborn: Once Castor Creed has planted his feet on a matter he has planted his feet, and nothing short of the world burning around him or his father personally coming to him and telling him otherwise will EVER make him change his mind.
- Grudge: Castor can hold a grudge with the best of them, if you wrong him once its almost certain that he’ll never ever forgive you.
- Sore Loser: Unused to loosing Castor takes it very, very hard and always automatically challenge the winner to a rematch, and then another, and then another and then another………
Passions:
- Swordsmanship
- Archery
Fears:
- Dying
- Freezing up in battle
Hobbies:
- Hunting
- Playing Gladiator
Fighting Specialty: Bladed weapons such as Swords and daggers. (one please)
Describe the extent of your powers/abilities:
Fatal Flaw: Hubris-Castor is sometimes so confident in his abilities that it verges on the point of sheer suicidal recklessness. His fatal flaw is definitely Hubris.
Please describe why you think you can stabilize a powerful character. Minimum of two well-developed paragraphs **Big Three Only**: Not Applicable
Please give a brief background on your minor god**Minor Gods Only**:Not Applicable
Theme Song: Smooth Criminal
Lyrics
It Was The Sound Of A Crescendo
He Came Into Her Apartment
He Left The Bloodstains On The Carpet
She Ran Underneath The Table
He Could See She Was Unable
So She Ran Into The Bedroom
She Was Struck Down, It Was Her Doom
Annie Are You OK?
So, Annie Are You OK
Are You OK, Annie
Annie Are You OK?
So, Annie Are You OK
Are You OK, Annie
Annie Are You OK?
So, Annie Are You OK?
Are You OK, Annie?
Annie Are You OK?
So, Annie Are You Ok, Are You Ok, Annie?
He Came Into Her Apartment
He Left The Bloodstains On The Carpet
She Ran Underneath The Table
He Could See She Was Unable
So She Ran Into The Bedroom
She Was Struck Down, It Was Her Doom
Annie Are You OK?
So, Annie Are You OK
Are You OK, Annie
Annie Are You OK?
So, Annie Are You OK
Are You OK, Annie
Annie Are You OK?
So, Annie Are You OK?
Are You OK, Annie?
Annie Are You OK?
So, Annie Are You Ok, Are You Ok, Annie?
The Puppeteer:
Name/ Alias: Zee
Age: 16
How long have you been role playing?: About a year now.
Rate Your RPing 1-5 Stars according to our Star Rule (1 = beginner. 5= most advanced): 4
How did you find us?: Link off another sight
Role Playing Sample:
The woods were a frightening place at the best of time. The stuff of nightmares. Everyone whether they admitted it or not had an irrational fear of them. Fear of the beasts that resided in them, fear of becoming last and never finding your way back. Fear of the darkness and what lay in it. Fears that one could put up with under normal circumstances. But wounded, separated from your comrades, and running for your life. The woods became one’s personal hell.
Every shadow was a hidden enemy, every noise a prelude to imminent attack, and just one thought ran through one’s head and that was to get away. Castor ran as he had never ran before. The forest blurred around him as he exerted every bit of his half-godly speed and stamina into one simple objective: getting away. His sides heaved, his arm slowly pumping blood and leaving a trail that he could do nothing about. The sun had barely set but with the trees blocking out most of the light anyway it was as if though it were midnight. But nothing fazed Castor. He dodged under a low laying limb that he sensed at the last minute rather than saw, then a few seconds later he leapt over a furrow of muddy water. Gasping heavily now he kept on running.
He had to find the others. He had to find them and regroup. If they were even still____
The Son of Apollo sensed the attack just a second before it landed, for a warrior of his caliber that was enough. Castor tossed himself to the left, landing in some thorny shrubbery and tearing himself up some but saving his life as well. The Nemean Lion slammed down into the spot where the boy had vacated just seconds before. It roared in frenzied bloodlust. Castor slowly found his feet, ignoring the dozen or so new scratches as he drew his sword. The lion glared at him, its fur glinting metallically and its revealed fangs shining like miniature stars.
“You want some of this?” Castor asked softly. The lion began a steady growling and tensed up.
“Well do ya? Come on then! My name is Castor Creed! Son of Phoebus Pythonian Apollo! Champion of Camp Halfblood! Come on cat bait! COME ON!”
The Lion needed not a second invitation, it rushed forward roaring. Castor gave his own battle cry and ran forward to engage it.
Every shadow was a hidden enemy, every noise a prelude to imminent attack, and just one thought ran through one’s head and that was to get away. Castor ran as he had never ran before. The forest blurred around him as he exerted every bit of his half-godly speed and stamina into one simple objective: getting away. His sides heaved, his arm slowly pumping blood and leaving a trail that he could do nothing about. The sun had barely set but with the trees blocking out most of the light anyway it was as if though it were midnight. But nothing fazed Castor. He dodged under a low laying limb that he sensed at the last minute rather than saw, then a few seconds later he leapt over a furrow of muddy water. Gasping heavily now he kept on running.
He had to find the others. He had to find them and regroup. If they were even still____
The Son of Apollo sensed the attack just a second before it landed, for a warrior of his caliber that was enough. Castor tossed himself to the left, landing in some thorny shrubbery and tearing himself up some but saving his life as well. The Nemean Lion slammed down into the spot where the boy had vacated just seconds before. It roared in frenzied bloodlust. Castor slowly found his feet, ignoring the dozen or so new scratches as he drew his sword. The lion glared at him, its fur glinting metallically and its revealed fangs shining like miniature stars.
“You want some of this?” Castor asked softly. The lion began a steady growling and tensed up.
“Well do ya? Come on then! My name is Castor Creed! Son of Phoebus Pythonian Apollo! Champion of Camp Halfblood! Come on cat bait! COME ON!”
The Lion needed not a second invitation, it rushed forward roaring. Castor gave his own battle cry and ran forward to engage it.