Post by OLIVER WILLIAMS on May 14, 2010 15:52:14 GMT -5
IF I'M A BAD PERSON
[/color]YOU DON'T LIKE ME[/center]
Oliver Zacharias Williams
hi, my name is Joldy, baby. i got 14 candles
on my birthday cake, but i've blown
out 4 of them. my other characters would be N/A, thinking about making a daughter of Hebes
and you can contact
me by my email, msn, aim (ask for ‘em) (or pm)
on my birthday cake, but i've blown
out 4 of them. my other characters would be N/A, thinking about making a daughter of Hebes
and you can contact
me by my email, msn, aim (ask for ‘em) (or pm)
I GUESS I'LL MAKE
[/color]MY OWN WAY[/center]
NAME: Oliver Zacharias Williams
NICKNAME: Ollie, don’t call him Oliver, only Chiron calls him that.
GENDER: male, a duh~
SEXUALITY: straight, most definitely.
AGE: 20, just a couple months ‘til his birthdayyy!
BIRTHDAY: August 13, 1989
SPECIES: DEMIGOD, HELL YES!
PLAYBY: the epically hot Kyle Gallner.
IT'S A CIRCLE
[/color]A MEAN CYCLE[/center]
HEIGHT: feet & inches
WEIGHT: pounds
DISTIGUISHING FEATURES: His eyes, the most interesting mix of colors, not a hazel, or green, brown, or blue. Most mysterious, the only thing to give an insight into his past, just as murky as those pretty little orbs of his. He’s also got a rather noticeable British accent.
PERSONAL STYLE: Ollie’s got a rather rugged style, and thank the gods, it looks good on him. Ripped jeans, threadbare tee, whatever, he’ll wear it. He’s just got an odd aversion to food stains, he HATES them, he takes a lot of care to make sure his food doesn’t stain his shirt, pants, etc.
I CAN'T EXCITE YOU
[/color]ANYMORE[/center]
LIKES: the ladies, England, being in charge, his powers, rock and roll music, bubblegum, fighting, and not acting his age.
DISLIKES: nosy people, labeling, clingy people, being pushed to do something, explaining why he does things, America.
STRENGTHS: He’s a brilliant swordsmen, and flirts really rather well. Excellent liar.
WEAKNESSES: making his feelings understood, backing out of a fight, fitting in.
DREAMS: to be famous.
FEARS: to die, being caught crying (he has to retain the tough guy attitude, y‘know), being betrayed by someone close to him.
FATAL FLAW: overly trusting those close to him.
PREFERRED WEAPON: His sword, called Caledfwlch, sword of ice and war, also known as Excalibur. Is it the same Excalibur from Arthurian legend? ….You decide.
ABILITIES: awesome underworld-ly powahz. Raising the dead, talking to the dead, using huge slabs of black rock as shields, all that good stuff.
ANYTHING ELSE: Ollie here is temperamental guy, to say the least. His moods tend to change rather quickly, and he usually doesn’t stay on any one mood too long. Because of this, he’s been diagnosed as being borderline bipolar. But, that was before he went to Camp Half Blood, of course.
Being a child of Hades sort of has a toll on your mental health. What can you expect, dead spirits occasionally finding you, getting the creepiest dreams, not being able to understand any of this…Sounds hard right? Add that to the attitude of a surly teen who keeps to himself and doesn’t tell anyone anything. Keeping all this cooped up isn’t exactly a piece of cake, as one would imagine. Even with entering Camp Half Blood, he doesn’t share his dreams, thoughts, etc, with anyone, not Chiron, not Mr. D (well of course not), not his dad (really, would he even listen?), and not even his half brother, Nico.
Even though this all happens to Ollie, he doesn’t let any of it show, well he tries not to let it show, maintaining a cool guy attitude, with cockiness, childishness, and pretty boy looks on the side. Instead, he occupies himself with other things, music, motorcycles, aaaand girls. Yes, Ollie here is a lover of the ladies. His natural instinct around a girl is to flirt, and flirt well. This attitude is obviously not accepted graciously by the Hunters of Artemis. Though, he has something to brag about when it comes to them. He’s seduced one, and barely avoided capture. And by barely, I mean BARELY. He’s a ladies’ man, and loves it, most girls seem to love it too, putting his charming attitude and good looks together (something he inherited for Hades). Going along with his temperamental attitude, Ollie has a temperamental love life, breaking it off whenever he thinks a girl’s getting too close. Because deep down inside, he’s afraid of someone digging deep enough, and making a permanent place for them in his heart, and then breaking it.
WHERE'S YOUR GABLE
[/color]YOUR JURY[/center]
OLYMPIAN PARENT: Hades, lord of the mofo’ing dead.
MOTHER/FATHER: Anne Williams, supposed descendant of King Arthur and Morgause, descended from Mordred.
SIBLINGS: Nico Di Angelo, half brother. Bianca Di Angelo, never met, deceased half sister.
PETS: None, he doesn’t care for them much.
WHAT'S MY OFFENCE
[/color]THIS TIME[/center]
HOMETOWN: Berkshire, England, Los Angeles, California.
HISTORY: Ollie was born to a woman whom was severely incapable of taking care of a child. Anne Williams was a member of a cult, focusing on archaic witchcraft, filled with descendants of those with backgrounds in Arthurian legend, Morgan Le Fay, Morgause, Mordred, deemed by many as a bunch of lunatics, few believing they spoke the truth, most simply labelling them as a dangerous, dangerous group. Anne was one of the more brighter members of this group, being able to read and write many ancient languages, Gaelic, Sanskrit, and Greek, taking a high interest into the subject of necromancy, and dark magics.
This seemed to catch the eye of one god of the dead. Her beauty, her maniacal brilliance, and her subservient attitude around him, though he had never told her who he was, she seemed to have an extra insight, she was different. She was emotionally unstable, though, and could not maintain a long term relationship, which she did not necessarily mind, and neither did Hades.
Yet, a little while later, she found out something she wasn't exactly counting on. She was pregnant. Anne couldn't deal with this stress, and tried suicide numerous times, but was saved again and again, courtesy of the harpies. Hades wasn't about to let one of his offspring die ao easily, he had already discarded the worry of Anne's life. After all, he was Hades, and was known for his apathy and ambition.
YOU'RE NOT A JUDGE BUT
[/color]IF YOU'RE GONNA JUDGE ME[/center]
ROLE-PAY SAMPLE:
Arthur Kirkland had set off through the streets of London, on a whim. His piercing emerald eyed gaze carelessly traveled over the passerby around him, while he walked amongst them, simply another civilian to everyone else. Even during the apparent calm and normality that had swept through the city, Arthur still found himself on edge. As soon as night would come over London, he knew that fear would overtake the hearts and minds of the citizens.
"The Blitz" was obviously the reason for all of this. Ever since the first few air raids, the sirens and screams that broke the night air had become almost a usual occurrence, it had become part of routine, for British citizens, to lock their doors, and head for their basements, with their families and their few supplies. The fear of the enemy fighter planes did not only plague the citizens of London, they plagued Arthur Kirkland, himself. As much as he would not want to admit it, the seemingly helplessness feeling that overtook him was completely unwelcome, something that he found he absolutely dreaded. Oh, of course he had helped to try and control the streets for quite a number of times, during these raids, but he'd also been in his own bed, his own house, listening to the wailing of sirens just as many times.
So many lives lost, already. SO many. There had been predictions on what the total death toll would be, and they absolutely shocked him. An estimated total of six hundred thousand dead. And more than one million injured. They needed to take precautions, and they did. More than half a million children were evacuated to the countryside. He couldn't have beared to have children added to rising death toll. He couldn't stop himself from imagining their tiny, emaciated bodies, struck by those goddamned weapons. He wouldn't stand for it. But the loss of life in general still drove him crazy. He couldn't do anything about it, except to try and stop them, and retaliate. But when they did retaliate, they barely made a mark. And really, what would it matter if German civilians were killed? They were people all the same. He'd rather have shot the bastards that were bombing his people, his poor, helpless.... Arthur impatiently wiped a tear from his eye, which was the result of boiled up anger and grief. Crying or whining over it wouldn't do him any good. They needed a good battle plan, good superiors, good allies, and good supplies. He was blessed with most of the above. Arthur was fervently thankful to have someone logical in his country, whom could make a difference. He was very pleased with being able to call Winston Churchill a Briton, and his good friend. The man had his faults, like any other, but he also had his flashes of genius, and his charisma, and his point blank poignancy.
He mentally chastised himself and sighed. He didn't want to take a walk through London for THIS, thinking grim thoughts, and planning out war strategies, and mulling over the loss of life. Arthur had come to enjoy a cup of tea, and perhaps a crumpet or two, at his favorite teahouse. True, women were usually present, but he still enjoyed an occasional cup of tea at Thomas Twining. It was the oldest known tearoom, having been created in 1706. He had been going there for as long as he remembered. He even recalled bringing Alfred there once or twice, when he was a little one. Obviously, the boy never displayed interest in conversing properly, and such, but he still enjoyed tea for a fair amount of time. Arthur tentatively opened the door, and entered, smiling at the woman in the back, whom already saw him and had his order ready. He paid her a few shillings, and grabbed a piping hot cup of tea, and a couple biscuits, sitting down in a seat closest to the entrance, while setting his teacup and plate on the antique table. He let out a pleased sigh, and sipped a bit of his tea, watching the people walk by outside, feeling just a tad lonely.
"The Blitz" was obviously the reason for all of this. Ever since the first few air raids, the sirens and screams that broke the night air had become almost a usual occurrence, it had become part of routine, for British citizens, to lock their doors, and head for their basements, with their families and their few supplies. The fear of the enemy fighter planes did not only plague the citizens of London, they plagued Arthur Kirkland, himself. As much as he would not want to admit it, the seemingly helplessness feeling that overtook him was completely unwelcome, something that he found he absolutely dreaded. Oh, of course he had helped to try and control the streets for quite a number of times, during these raids, but he'd also been in his own bed, his own house, listening to the wailing of sirens just as many times.
So many lives lost, already. SO many. There had been predictions on what the total death toll would be, and they absolutely shocked him. An estimated total of six hundred thousand dead. And more than one million injured. They needed to take precautions, and they did. More than half a million children were evacuated to the countryside. He couldn't have beared to have children added to rising death toll. He couldn't stop himself from imagining their tiny, emaciated bodies, struck by those goddamned weapons. He wouldn't stand for it. But the loss of life in general still drove him crazy. He couldn't do anything about it, except to try and stop them, and retaliate. But when they did retaliate, they barely made a mark. And really, what would it matter if German civilians were killed? They were people all the same. He'd rather have shot the bastards that were bombing his people, his poor, helpless.... Arthur impatiently wiped a tear from his eye, which was the result of boiled up anger and grief. Crying or whining over it wouldn't do him any good. They needed a good battle plan, good superiors, good allies, and good supplies. He was blessed with most of the above. Arthur was fervently thankful to have someone logical in his country, whom could make a difference. He was very pleased with being able to call Winston Churchill a Briton, and his good friend. The man had his faults, like any other, but he also had his flashes of genius, and his charisma, and his point blank poignancy.
He mentally chastised himself and sighed. He didn't want to take a walk through London for THIS, thinking grim thoughts, and planning out war strategies, and mulling over the loss of life. Arthur had come to enjoy a cup of tea, and perhaps a crumpet or two, at his favorite teahouse. True, women were usually present, but he still enjoyed an occasional cup of tea at Thomas Twining. It was the oldest known tearoom, having been created in 1706. He had been going there for as long as he remembered. He even recalled bringing Alfred there once or twice, when he was a little one. Obviously, the boy never displayed interest in conversing properly, and such, but he still enjoyed tea for a fair amount of time. Arthur tentatively opened the door, and entered, smiling at the woman in the back, whom already saw him and had his order ready. He paid her a few shillings, and grabbed a piping hot cup of tea, and a couple biscuits, sitting down in a seat closest to the entrance, while setting his teacup and plate on the antique table. He let out a pleased sigh, and sipped a bit of his tea, watching the people walk by outside, feeling just a tad lonely.
WELL SENTENCE ME TO
[/color]ANOTHER LIFE[/center]
THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY JESSIE OF DEMIGODS & MONSTERS. DO NOT STEAL/TAKE CREDIT OFF.