Post by Clark Sanderson on Apr 2, 2013 21:52:57 GMT -5
Clark Maximus Terranus Sanderson
(I did try to find a pic to match your specifications, however, I will correct the size issue once I'm accepted, I simply can't find one of that size. Yadda, yadda, you probably hear this BS all the time, no? I apologize.)
Out of Character
Alias: Just call me Clark...I've RPed by that name...since I started, actually.
Age: 19, and single...DX Not to say I'm joining forums to search, but I nearly always talk with a girl who's funny, intellectual, and intelligent, and I've die inside on more than one occasion.
Gender: I'm a dude...
RP Experience: Years: Going on seven soon.
How Did You Find Us?: I want to say...Google..but it may have been another site...
Activity Level: Every chance I get...
Other Characters: None.
Keyword in Rules: Verified by Ana
RP Sample:Why do the most random things give him muse? Walking down through the field to the water's edge, he pondered the reasons why humans or Demi-Gods, for that matter, do what they do. Sometimes for comfort, sometimes for other reasons, but altogether, what drives them, us? He paused midstep, all instincts, right? We do what we do to feed, and...well, procreate. Fighting was surely in there somewhere, but there was no need to worry about that.
He continued walking, he was wearing his camp t-shirt, though it appeared to hold a few stains from work, sometimes it's just too important to bother with changing into work clothes, and swim shorts, black with thin, red stripes, flip flops with a flame design. He walked down the dock, continuing his ponderings until he suddenly remembered people saying mortals could see-see through the Mist, a lot of them. He began questioning if that were so bad, surely if governments around the world knew of the threats Half-Bloods dealt with on a regular basis, they'd help, correct? Or maybe they'd just start blowing all of us 'freaks' to bits alongside the monsters.
Bad image, that. Perhaps if he could find a way to capture the Mist, he could recreate it, yeah! That's...a horrible idea, even Chiron can hardly explain what exactly the Mist is. He frowned, furrowing his brow, kicking off his sandals, and taking his shirt off, pulling a small copper rebreather from his pocket, something he'd decided to test today. He strapped it to his face with leather straps, diving in head first, the gears whirring softly in his ears as he took his first underwater breath, swimming along contentedly. Maybe...just maybe, the cure for the rising problem could be saved with machinery. Perhaps, for once, it'd be the Hephaestus Cabin who got their chance to prove themselves.
Be heroes...
That'll be the day, he thought to himself in a rough impression of his father. Ain't no people out there who'll be as dependable as a good animatron. He sighed, looking around, suddenly aware he was being watched. "Oh blast it all to Hades...", he muttered, the bubbles of his speech rising to the surface as he turned, heading for shore. Sure, he liked swimming, loved seafood too, being watched and possibly eaten by sea serpents, that's a totally different story.
And oh, by the Gods, could he feel it, the eyes watching him. Hopefully it wasn't one of the quick one's, maybe one of the slower, lethargic one's that liked to take their-WHAM! His gut twisted, and he kicked his feet with intense desperation, nope, it was one of the fast one's. He was aware of a dull aching in and on his left side. Shoulda brought a knife, woulda been better off with a knife, coulda avoided being eaten by a monster. He kept telling himself this, vaguely aware that he couldn't breath, hopefully he'd busted a rib, or got the wind knocked out of him and his invetion hadn't already given out on him.
He was aware of a sudden sharp pain in the back of his right heel, and twisted around, kicking straight into a large, dull grey eye, spurring a flurry of movement as whatever it was retreated to a safe distance, but it was still there, and the aching feeling only got worse. He felt his fingertips brush against wood, and swam upward, a hard, bony 'wall' slamming into him from below, unfortunately for Clark, he'd swam about two feet too far, and was currently UNDERNEATH the wooden planks. Slammed upward by the creature, he smashed through them, luckliy moving toward shore, he bounced twice, and came to a very unsteady stand, stumbling a good few feet. He stood there for a few moments, and leaned down tenderly, grabbing a chunk of plank off the ground, tearing the rebreather off his face as he half-limped on his right ankle, which appeared like it'd been nibbled by a half-dozen pirhana, toward shore.
"Ok, fine, let's play then...", he muttered to himself, or to the creature, he wasn't sure which. His side was blazing now, and he was distinctly aware of the throbbing in time with his racing, angry heartbeat. The creature, however, seemed to have done a splendid job getting itself entangled in the underwater pillars of the dock, rearing a rather bony head, thrashing about in a failed attempt to free itself. The Hephaestus boy, Clark, seemed to think this rather comical. "Ironic, you were seeking to trap me, and you've only succeeded in trapping yourself...", he said to it, sighing. "I guess the right thing to do would be freeing you, considering I don't have any Celestial Bronze on me at the moment.
The very mention of the name seemed to catch the beasts attention, "Or maybe I should get someone else...how about...an archer, Apollo Cabin, eh? No, that's too nice for the likes of you. Maybe I oughta get one of Ares' kids, yeah?" The creature released what appeared to be a combined cry of rage and fear, tearing at the dock with increased fury, and vigor.
Clark blinked, and glanced down, "Aww, man...", the purple tint, well, the giant purple sploch on his left side was darkening and widdening by the moment, and he blinked a few times, dropping the plank from his right hand to reach up and lightly poke the area. The pain nearly caused him to vomit, and he hunched over, "Hoo-ah...yep, broken...I'd like nothing more than to see you turned into a fish fry...but uh...I'm feeling a little woozy...", he said quietly, mostly to himself. "I should really...get help..." Broken ribs weren't too bad, he would survive, but he was at loath to leave the creature there. He scooped the sharp chunk of plank up, and then turned, limping around until he found his rebreather, sliding the chunk into the facemask, holding the straps, he turned to face the struggling thing again.
"I was never too good at a sling...but an immobile target like you oughta be child's play." He strode forward, swing his right arm around until he had an acceptable amount of inhertia built up, flinging his arm, and shouting in triumph as the chunk of wood buried itself in the thing's eye, a howl emitting from it's mouth before it burst into nothingness, leaving behind what appeared to be a large, hollow skull, thick, designed for smashing into it's prey.
He only had a moment to appreciate it before dropping into a sitting position, "Hey...Apollo...", he said to the sky, chuckling, "Got any morphine?"
General Information
Full Name: "Clark Maximus Terranus Sanderson, it's my pleasure." He goes by Clark, Max, or Terry.
Gender: "I'm...a guy...obviously." Male.
Birthday: 22/1/1994
Age: 19
Camp Experience: 6 years
Sexual Orientation: Straight.
Claim Status: "I was claimed...felt like someone set a rock on my shoulders...was claiming me really such a huge chore, really?" Claimed.
Divine Parent: Hephaestus.
Looks
Hair: Cut short, black, Long enough to run your fingers through, and too short to style.
Eyes: Blue, wait, what? normal...uh, non asianic, so...round?, nothing special.
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 170lbs.
Picture: mediamass.net/jdd/public/documents/celebrities/3661.jpg
Playby: David Henrie
Dressing Style: Usually in a camp t-shirt and jeans of all colors, sometimes wears a sweater.
General Appearance: Well, first, I'd be all like 'Does David Henrie have a twin?', then, I'd be like, 'Hey, he's dressed like a camper from Camp Half-Blood!', then I'd be all like, 'I knew Camp Half-Blood existed'.
He'd look pretty average, and I don't think I'd really think much of him, if he spoke first because I'm reclusive as hell, I'd probably end up being his friend. He looks like the kind of guy you could take just about anywhere and he'd adapt to his environment. He looks friendly, and often wears a smile, even if his day's going to hell. A little bit more built than the average guy, he also gives off a warning aura of 'don't-f*ck-with-me', and it's defiantely not all show.
There's no defining marks on him aside from a few faded scars on his hands and wrists, nothing severe.
What Makes Them Them
Personality Description:
"Can you define description?"
Despite his usual appearance, Clark is openly welcoming to people, though he does prefer the heat of a forge, he can be sociable. He can pretty hot-headed when people blame thier injuries on his craftsmanship, claiming it's in the fault of the weilder, not the weapon itself, though if he finds he had made a mistake, he, grudgingly, apologizes and works on not repeating the mistake.
Prefering not to be silenced, Clark tends to be pretty loud when in a room full of other campers, not the loudest, but close. He doesn't really care much about what people call him, Clark, Greg, or Alex were common before he was claimed. He is typically gentle unless provoked, and tries, at times, to take over a job if he notices someone is having trouble. His favorite quote is 'Forgive your enemies, but remember their names'.
It is not uncommon for Clark to vanish for days at a time, and appear groggy and drowsy. He doesn't like arguing with people, and actively avoids conflict with other campers excluding during camp activities. He's not a wallflower, but he can be quite distant, taking a lot from his father's side, he can often be noted for being happier at a forge than with people. This likely has something to do with how he lost his mother, and how distant Hephaestus had been, even when claiming Clark as his own son.
Likes: Machinery, Building things, Explosives, Fire, Traps, Disassembling things, meeting people, wrestling/hand-to-hand combat, swords, shields, Aphrodite's children, Athena's children, Climbing, Falling, Fighting, and Swimming.
Dislikes: Monsters, disassembling faulty projects, failing, spirits of the dead, the design of the Ares cabin, flying, and seeing his friends hurt.
Fears: "I'm not afraid of anything!" Scared to death of sphinxes, getting anywhere near spirits unnerves him, and the idea of being forced into a situation from which he cannot escape unscathed.
Secrets: "But...I don't...have any secrets..." He doesn't like it, but when he's low on money, and he happens across something he REEEAAALLY wants, he'll snatch it
Ambitions: Yo prove that the Big Three, and Ares Cabins aren't the only Demi-Gods who can make a difference, and to build a creature intelligent enough to tell trash from dirty clothes...
Powers: Masterful use of Axes(Tomahawk size), Skilled Mechanic, Decent Writer(He keeps notes on junk), Dependable Strategist, Masterful wrestler/Hand-to-Hand Fighter, Pyromaniacal(At Times, Greek Fire is a really dangerous tool), and he could be said to Charasmatic, at times, when he's not tripping over his own thoughts.
Family and History
Personal History: Clark's parents met at a car show, kinda self explanatory, really. Hephaestus was checking out the new cars built by the mortals there, happened across a smokin' good she-mechanic, and, if what his mother told him was true, fell head over heels for her. She wasn't extremely beautiful, nor was she extremely ugly, she just was. A happy medium, with grease staining her clothes, and streaked down her right cheek. How could Hephaestus resist, really?
Not that his mother was much better, she just sort of rambled her way through their initial meeting, stuff about engines, horse-power, and racing fuel. Both spent most of their time studying the other, she called that their first date. He called it the moment he knew he wanted to be with her, though neither agreed on a formal definition. Needless to say, he saw her again, and again, and again, was there when Clark was born, but left a few days later. His visits grew less and less frequent as Clark got older, especially after he told her who he really was, what would happen to Clark when he turned 13.
Years passed by quickly, and, as he got older, Clark came across a little thing he hated, he couldn't sit still, always...twitchy, plus he couldn't read worth a damn, half the letters melted, which he hated. Dyslexia and ADHD, two traits of Demi-God children. His mother comforted him as best she could, but then he started noticing weird things, like men with one eye, or giants cats with human heads.
Once he started talking about those, his mom started getting upset, worried. She didn't want to lose him, didn't want Hephaestus to be right. It ended badly, usually monsters have no interest in mortals, but she saw it, the beast that splintered the door, and his father felt it, though he had no real control over the Satyr Seekers, he forced the ones nearby to rush there to try to save them, threatening to tell Dionysus if they didn't. Lilliana managed to get her son to a window just as the first arrived, forcing her son to climb out. The last time he'd see her before his vision was reddened as something splattered across his face.
His mind was reeling, the person who'd just taken his hand, letting out a bleat-like scream, dragged him along at a pace he could barely match. He tried to clear his eyes, but saw the liquid in them was thick, smelled of iron, he knew what it was, but refused to accept what had just happened. His run was short, a taxi was hailed, not any ordinary one, either. The satyr was in no rush to stay behind, throwing himself in after Clark, tossing what appeared to be a solid gold coin to the three, terrifying old women in the front seat, gasping something like "Cam Half-Blod...", but the women seemed to understand well enough, especially after they saw the beast smash through the wall.
During the ride, Clark's heart's pounding and irregular, frightened breathing caused him to pass out. He woke up under an Apollo camper's care. He shot bolt upright as he woke, "Thank the Gods, Golly was sure you'd die, said it felt like your heart would give out...oh, welcome to camp Half-Blood...you don't know who your parent is, do you?"
It was almost as if the words triggered the glowing symbol of Hephaestus above his head. He would never admit it, but he almost felt like his father viewed the act of claiming him like a chore. He would never really get used to that feeling, but was secretly glad when the symbol faded.
As the years past, he developed himself into a skilled fighter, and shrewd metal worker. He also found time to set up neat little traps and attempt to woo female campers from time to time, within his own age group, of course, he's not a pervert or something like that.
Mortal Parent: Lilliana Katherine Sanderson[Deceased]
Other Family: Name, relationship to person. List them.
Mother: Lilliana Sanderson[Deceased]
And Finally...
I, Clark, have made this entirely up. I did not rip somebody else’s application from any site, and have followed the rules accordingly.(Technically, I used a lot of information from one of MY apps, I want to start off a role-playing relationship honestly. I did that simply because the characters were meant to be alike, though their personalities differ on a few levels.)
And…? Yes...I feel like Team Rocket sounded when they found/stole Ash's invitation to that island that I can't remember the name of...
