Character's Name:
Drustan Waldhar
Age:
Claims to be 30
(As of 15471, he is 14241 years old)
Gender:
Male
Species:
Human
Abilities:
Moving objects around the tavern (so just picking things up and using things like one would in life.)
Throwing individuals out.
Appearance:
Slightly transparent, rough stubble and short, unkempt hair. His has a strong build, as though he was in his physical prime when he died.
6 ft 8 in
230 lbs pre-death
Blood type: B+
Personality:
Gruff, If you damage the tavern he will flip out. He refuses to acknowledge that he is dead.
History: (If requested or needed to explain the power behind a character)
He grew up in a town that apparently was near by at one point or another before growing up. He saved what little money he could to buy the tavern and it is his pride and joy.
If one delves deep enough into his past, it turns out he died of heart disease around 1260.
Right Handed.
Roleplay Sample:
He got up, thin patchwork sheets slipping off or through him, depending on who you asked. Anyways, he got up and yawned, shuffling over to the window in the morning cold. Peering outside, he mumbled something about where the weather could stick a club. He stood there for a minute or two, mind slowly starting up, before he sighed and went down stairs to start the day. As he had millions of times before, he opened the rear door and grabbed a bundle of fire wood, bringing it in to start the fire. Once it was reasonably steady without his supervision, he carried on with his routine and gave are the tables and counter a quick wipe down. As he finished up, the front door opened, letting in a gust of cold air. He turned to the new arrival, saying in a gravely voice "And what do you want? Drink or eats? If your lookin for some eats, yer gonna need to wait a bit."
Drustan Waldhar
Age:
Claims to be 30
(As of 15471, he is 14241 years old)
Gender:
Male
Species:
Human
Abilities:
Moving objects around the tavern (so just picking things up and using things like one would in life.)
Throwing individuals out.
Appearance:
Slightly transparent, rough stubble and short, unkempt hair. His has a strong build, as though he was in his physical prime when he died.
6 ft 8 in
230 lbs pre-death
Blood type: B+
Personality:
Gruff, If you damage the tavern he will flip out. He refuses to acknowledge that he is dead.
History: (If requested or needed to explain the power behind a character)
He grew up in a town that apparently was near by at one point or another before growing up. He saved what little money he could to buy the tavern and it is his pride and joy.
If one delves deep enough into his past, it turns out he died of heart disease around 1260.
Right Handed.
Roleplay Sample:
He got up, thin patchwork sheets slipping off or through him, depending on who you asked. Anyways, he got up and yawned, shuffling over to the window in the morning cold. Peering outside, he mumbled something about where the weather could stick a club. He stood there for a minute or two, mind slowly starting up, before he sighed and went down stairs to start the day. As he had millions of times before, he opened the rear door and grabbed a bundle of fire wood, bringing it in to start the fire. Once it was reasonably steady without his supervision, he carried on with his routine and gave are the tables and counter a quick wipe down. As he finished up, the front door opened, letting in a gust of cold air. He turned to the new arrival, saying in a gravely voice "And what do you want? Drink or eats? If your lookin for some eats, yer gonna need to wait a bit."
