Post by Squall Leonhart on May 9, 2006 15:47:20 GMT -5
Name: Squall Leonhart
Age: 25
Rank: {warrior, Summoner, Guardian, etc.}
Master Swordsmen
Weapons/means of attacking {Pictures accepted}
Gunblade
Overdrives:
Rough Divide
Fated Circle
Blasting Zone
Lionheart
Currently Lives:
----
Appearance: {Pictures accepted}
medium-length brown hair and cold blue eyes. A small scar runs diagonally across the bridge of his nose; he received it in a training duel against his rival Seifer Almasy, and left Seifer with a similar (mirror-image) scar in return.
History:
Squall grew up in an orphanage, along with practically all of the other main characters—Zell, Seifer, Selphie, Irvine and Quistis. Though he remembers practically nothing of this past, it causes him to develop into an emotionally detached, highly cynical and introverted boy (his original goal is to go through life without any emotional links or dependencies, because "Others won't always be there. You can only rely on yourself".)
However, Squall gradually warms as the game progresses, and it is later revealed that his deliberate detachment from his companions is a defensive mechanism in order to protect himself from emotional pain, like he experienced when his older sister figure at the orphanage, one of the sole emotional supports in his early life, was forcibly separated from him. His personality warms considerably once his fear of losing those close to him is dragged out into the open and confronted.
Sample Role play:
It was bright white out, or that's all that a young figure could see. No matter how far he looked he could only see dessert sands and feel the hot baking sun on his back. Why in the world did he want to come here was beyond his understanding but he did.
He had to cross this god forsaken sand pit before he could reach his destination. Not that he actually had one but he'd find one once he'd escape from the over sized sand box.
Dragging his aching sand filled feet he paused in mid-stride and looked around, really looked around. Nothing, even if put all his concentration into it still nothing. God forbid someone here got drunk. At the thought of drink his mouth watered. Or at least tried too. To him it got even more dry and cottony.
First thing was first when he found civilization, water, he didn't care what form it came from nor did he care what container. Well maybe it's inhabitant, he didn't exactly feel too enthused about receiving water in a dung sack.
Pulling himself together and sighing, he heaved another tired leg up, his brown hair falling into his eyes. But was too tired to shake it off, so he allowed the sweat and sand caked tendrils poke his eyeballs. He kept his face turned under away from the sun's ultra-rays, to only have the back of his neck fried. He knew that would hurt later, in fact it already did. But his shirt collar was too short.
He couldn't understand how he was so frivolous at not sitting back and looking at the situation at hand and think it out thoughtfully. He could have packed a sufficient amount of stuff to wain him across whatever lands he came across, and sunblock was sure as hell should of been higher on the list. Will be next time. What was worse, he forgot a map.
Out of everything, he forgot a map. His face scrunched up in self-anger, so thoughtless, so childless, so, so stupid. He winced at the last one. If there was one thing in this world Squall hated was being called stupid. He was far form it and he knew it. But the boy couldn't take it back now, what's done was done. All he had now was to move on and hope for the best.
Age: 25
Rank: {warrior, Summoner, Guardian, etc.}
Master Swordsmen
Weapons/means of attacking {Pictures accepted}
Gunblade
Overdrives:
Rough Divide
Fated Circle
Blasting Zone
Lionheart
Currently Lives:
----
Appearance: {Pictures accepted}
medium-length brown hair and cold blue eyes. A small scar runs diagonally across the bridge of his nose; he received it in a training duel against his rival Seifer Almasy, and left Seifer with a similar (mirror-image) scar in return.
History:
Squall grew up in an orphanage, along with practically all of the other main characters—Zell, Seifer, Selphie, Irvine and Quistis. Though he remembers practically nothing of this past, it causes him to develop into an emotionally detached, highly cynical and introverted boy (his original goal is to go through life without any emotional links or dependencies, because "Others won't always be there. You can only rely on yourself".)
However, Squall gradually warms as the game progresses, and it is later revealed that his deliberate detachment from his companions is a defensive mechanism in order to protect himself from emotional pain, like he experienced when his older sister figure at the orphanage, one of the sole emotional supports in his early life, was forcibly separated from him. His personality warms considerably once his fear of losing those close to him is dragged out into the open and confronted.
Sample Role play:
It was bright white out, or that's all that a young figure could see. No matter how far he looked he could only see dessert sands and feel the hot baking sun on his back. Why in the world did he want to come here was beyond his understanding but he did.
He had to cross this god forsaken sand pit before he could reach his destination. Not that he actually had one but he'd find one once he'd escape from the over sized sand box.
Dragging his aching sand filled feet he paused in mid-stride and looked around, really looked around. Nothing, even if put all his concentration into it still nothing. God forbid someone here got drunk. At the thought of drink his mouth watered. Or at least tried too. To him it got even more dry and cottony.
First thing was first when he found civilization, water, he didn't care what form it came from nor did he care what container. Well maybe it's inhabitant, he didn't exactly feel too enthused about receiving water in a dung sack.
Pulling himself together and sighing, he heaved another tired leg up, his brown hair falling into his eyes. But was too tired to shake it off, so he allowed the sweat and sand caked tendrils poke his eyeballs. He kept his face turned under away from the sun's ultra-rays, to only have the back of his neck fried. He knew that would hurt later, in fact it already did. But his shirt collar was too short.
He couldn't understand how he was so frivolous at not sitting back and looking at the situation at hand and think it out thoughtfully. He could have packed a sufficient amount of stuff to wain him across whatever lands he came across, and sunblock was sure as hell should of been higher on the list. Will be next time. What was worse, he forgot a map.
Out of everything, he forgot a map. His face scrunched up in self-anger, so thoughtless, so childless, so, so stupid. He winced at the last one. If there was one thing in this world Squall hated was being called stupid. He was far form it and he knew it. But the boy couldn't take it back now, what's done was done. All he had now was to move on and hope for the best.
