Post by wallaby on May 24, 2010 14:27:37 GMT -5
Name: Roger V. Redfield
Nickname: Friends call him variations of Roger Dodger, all meant in cruel satire in reference to his nature.
Gender: Male
Race: Human (Whether there is some Infernal or Celestial DNA swimming around in his genetic code is irrelevant as it is seemingly too diluted to manifest itself otherwise, which is for the best in Roger’s opinion.)
Deformities: None, appears fully human.
Age: 27
Height: 5’11”
Weight: 175lbs
Build: Slender and Athletic endomorphic, but very solid core.
Eyes: Light Brown
Hair: Dark Brown, worn in shoulder length dreadlocks.
Skin Tone: Light brown given obvious African heritage.
Attire: A strange mixture of old high class wardrobe mixed with current day street wardrobe (a hint at a change in living standards).
Weapons: Used in varying combinations (based on what he felt like carrying that day,) dual 9mm silenced Berettas, a Deagle .50 (not exactly overkill given the situations and adversaries he often finds himself pinned against), and a generic black steel combat knife a little shorter than his forearm (effective enough to defend against larger blades, in this case oddly enough the occasional sword.)
Fighting Style: Roger’s combative methods are nonexistent; only formerly trained in marksmanship he has little strategically based experience, depending solely on his instincts, reflexes, and uncanny ability to take astonishing beatings and get back up to fight another day.
Biography:
Two years ago Roger was an assistant to an up and coming senator, handling by and large the majority of the secretarial duties, public relations, and the many odd jobs in between, such as baby sitting the senators 13 year old daughter Cassie. At the end of the day Roger had a high paying job he excelled at and should have been happy to have, however Senator Reynolds was profiled perfectly by his daughter on many occasions as an “ass-clown”. This sunny opinion of her father had Cassie and Roger become fairly good friends; Roger was more of a big brother figure than her father’s flunky.
On a particularly rueful night with plenty of strange turns along the way, still not entirely sure as to what happened exactly – Roger found himself confused and disoriented for an indeterminable amount of time, that silent, deafening, bright, and dark eternity would turn out to be the better part of his stay in the domain of the Infernals. An impossible environment to describe made of false inverted similarities and true lies plainly visible and equally confusing. Obviously a little bit of a stretch for his past white collared self to wrap his mind around. Roger has little doubt he would have been considered insane, throwing himself into a feral and senseless survival based instinct he was hunted, tortured, and toyed with. Looking back Roger finds himself unable to linearly piece together events into a specific chain of occurrences, much like a nightmare you remember too much of, only too vaguely. Also a seeming an eternity passed, Roger has mysteriously found himself dropped back in his city, on the very roof top he’d been disappeared on, only two years later to the date. His old life was lost to him.
Roger now finds himself with a honed aptitude for survival, the knowledge that beings called Infernals exist and he really does not like them. Perhaps most pressing in his mind is that Cassie disappeared on the same night he did two years ago. Only it doesn’t look like she’s come back. Armed with what little knowledge he has Roger is barely making a living down town in a scummy apartment caught between solving this mystery, hunting down Infernals for information, and contemplating how he feels about revenge.
Nickname: Friends call him variations of Roger Dodger, all meant in cruel satire in reference to his nature.
Gender: Male
Race: Human (Whether there is some Infernal or Celestial DNA swimming around in his genetic code is irrelevant as it is seemingly too diluted to manifest itself otherwise, which is for the best in Roger’s opinion.)
Deformities: None, appears fully human.
Age: 27
Height: 5’11”
Weight: 175lbs
Build: Slender and Athletic endomorphic, but very solid core.
Eyes: Light Brown
Hair: Dark Brown, worn in shoulder length dreadlocks.
Skin Tone: Light brown given obvious African heritage.
Attire: A strange mixture of old high class wardrobe mixed with current day street wardrobe (a hint at a change in living standards).
Weapons: Used in varying combinations (based on what he felt like carrying that day,) dual 9mm silenced Berettas, a Deagle .50 (not exactly overkill given the situations and adversaries he often finds himself pinned against), and a generic black steel combat knife a little shorter than his forearm (effective enough to defend against larger blades, in this case oddly enough the occasional sword.)
Fighting Style: Roger’s combative methods are nonexistent; only formerly trained in marksmanship he has little strategically based experience, depending solely on his instincts, reflexes, and uncanny ability to take astonishing beatings and get back up to fight another day.
Biography:
Two years ago Roger was an assistant to an up and coming senator, handling by and large the majority of the secretarial duties, public relations, and the many odd jobs in between, such as baby sitting the senators 13 year old daughter Cassie. At the end of the day Roger had a high paying job he excelled at and should have been happy to have, however Senator Reynolds was profiled perfectly by his daughter on many occasions as an “ass-clown”. This sunny opinion of her father had Cassie and Roger become fairly good friends; Roger was more of a big brother figure than her father’s flunky.
On a particularly rueful night with plenty of strange turns along the way, still not entirely sure as to what happened exactly – Roger found himself confused and disoriented for an indeterminable amount of time, that silent, deafening, bright, and dark eternity would turn out to be the better part of his stay in the domain of the Infernals. An impossible environment to describe made of false inverted similarities and true lies plainly visible and equally confusing. Obviously a little bit of a stretch for his past white collared self to wrap his mind around. Roger has little doubt he would have been considered insane, throwing himself into a feral and senseless survival based instinct he was hunted, tortured, and toyed with. Looking back Roger finds himself unable to linearly piece together events into a specific chain of occurrences, much like a nightmare you remember too much of, only too vaguely. Also a seeming an eternity passed, Roger has mysteriously found himself dropped back in his city, on the very roof top he’d been disappeared on, only two years later to the date. His old life was lost to him.
Roger now finds himself with a honed aptitude for survival, the knowledge that beings called Infernals exist and he really does not like them. Perhaps most pressing in his mind is that Cassie disappeared on the same night he did two years ago. Only it doesn’t look like she’s come back. Armed with what little knowledge he has Roger is barely making a living down town in a scummy apartment caught between solving this mystery, hunting down Infernals for information, and contemplating how he feels about revenge.
