[table]
thes code |
Sheogorath
Romulus Crane |
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[b]
[b]Birth Name: Romulus Alexander Crane
Nicknames: Shey, Sheo, Rommy, Alex
Parents: John Crane [father, psychologist, RIP] Diana [mother, artist, RIP]
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Birthday: February 2nd
Sexuality: Biromantic Asexual [Romance only with ages 23-30]
Accent: A mix of Scottish and Irish.
Affiliation: The Badlands
Rank: Grunt - Former Proxy
Titles: Dauntless, Spade
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Home: An small library with plenty of windows to let in light.
Reference.
Pets: Thadon. A German Shepard. Haskill. A dwarf hotot rabbit small enough to fit in one hand. Has a black bow collar.
Rabbit Ref.
Attacking: Use underline.
Threat Level: Dangerous.
Skills: Expert with a staff, and adept with a blade.
Weaknesses: Generally weakened when disarmed. Can't shoot for shit.
Cane: Sturdy carved wood with a painted eye at it's top.
Front View,
Another Front,
Back View
Dagger: Crafted from fine steel.
Reference.
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[b]Reference:
Click here!
Hair: Brown with a reddish tint. Looks chestnut in bright light.
Eyes: Amber.
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 164 lbs
Figure: Lithe and Muscular.
Scars and Marks: Scars along nose and shoulders, smiley face tattoo on right shoulder, hot iron brand on right arm.
Accessories: Rainbow leather collar spiked with animal teeth.
Cane: Dark brown, carved with swirls, painted red eye at top.
With dark red hair and light dusty eyes that swirl like prehistoric amber at the kiss of the sun, Sheogorath is an athletic figure that's both lithe and muscular. He's certainly no bodybuilder, but that doesn't make him a pushover. A few scars lace his skin, remnants of desperate battles that still ignite the fire of past memories. Shey has a wrapping beard that he's quite fond of. But what he
isn't fond of are the unfortunate souls that think they're being funny by attempting to cut it all off in his sleep! And cleaning blood out of a beard is never fun. Really brings down the mood, and a Sheo that's in a bad mood, is very much a Sheo
nobody wants to meet.
In terms of clothing, he's a bit like everyone else. He dresses in what he can find. Except Sheogorath, while enjoying casual wear, has a preference for flashier clothing, and the more colorful and exotic, the better. Fashionable suits make for fine days, and finding a nice pair of boots warms even the coldest of hearts. In addition to clothing, Sheogorath possesses a rather intricately carved, dark wooden cane. It has a few nicks and scratches, but he's long since learned how to sand them out and restore the wood. The cane is a valued favorite. Not only does it look good,
it also cracks skulls. Care to test your luck? There's an eye carved and painted into the wood at the top. Makes for a strangely ominous appearance, particularly when it's wrapped in barbed wire and covered in blood. Look around Sheo's neck and you'll see an accessory, a flashy rainbow collar, spiked for effect. There's not much special about it, but Shey's fond of it, so try to be nice.
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personality
General: Emotionally unstable and very unpredictable.
Psychological: Occasionally delusional.
Relationships: Capable of maintaining
very few stable relationships.
Romance: Incapable.
Likes: Butterflies, birds, sweet foods, heat, swimming, cheese, rabbits, ferrets.
Dislikes: Cold, sour foods, being touched without permission, disrespect.
Other Traits: Studious, intelligent, observant, analytical, skill in psychology, imaginative
Negative Traits: Mood swings, potentially violent, untrustworthy, manipulative
Unpredictable, with two sides like the sides of a coin.
Chaotic Evil, hard to predict, but not at all random. He has plans, plots, and is more than capable of sticking to them. Few people can assume which side he will show, or which actions he will take, and to some his reasoning may appear random even when it's not. He may help or hinder his worst enemy for nothing more than his own amusement, or personal gain.
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Summarized Historical Events From Past to Present.
[Young Teen] The power was fading, but the Crane family had found refuge in a small community watched over by a greedy doctor of a nobleman, if one could dare call the wealthy such a thing. The man did have a bit of a superiority complex though, and often demanded tribute, and those that couldn't pay would be banished into the wild. When modern technology still flourished, Rommy's father, Edward, had worked as a psychologist,
Dr Crane, they would call him. Each night he would come home and share a story, one that was likely meant to be confidential, but Romulus had always been fascinated by the mind. That never changed after the fallout, Edward had decided not to take money given its worthless value, but instead offered his counseling presence for free. Rommy's mother worked similar magic, but had been an artist, a painter, a crafter, anything vibrant a person could imagine, and she taught all she knew to her son and those that came to learn from her. Meanwhile, Romulus lingered as an outcast, his eccentric personality had often gotten him bullies, until he had poked out one of their eyes. There had been an uproar, of course, and he had nearly been kicked from the town, but his young age had protected him from harm. After that, the other kids didn't bully him. They avoided him.
[Teenage] There was a time in Rommy's life where hatred was all that fueled his emotions, violent outbursts would start and end his day, and there were plenty that moved far from his teenage presence whenever he moved past on the street, fearful glances, some disgusted, passed his way in brief display. It all started with the dog. Edward had brought it home to him, a brown little thing with perked ears and short fur. He had named it Jet, and for a long while, the two were inseparable. But dogs always found their way into tragedies, and Jet was no different. That was the day of the raid, a group of bandits on horseback stormed the town, some with guns, others waving bows. Each home they rummaged, until they came to Romulus's. The family was content to duck their heads and avoid the situation, but not Jet. Likely sensing danger, the hound attacked the intruder. He didn't perish until an hour after the bandits had left, bleeding from the chest, a hole carved by a bullet. There had been no vets in the village. That had enraged Romulus, for the boy had thought it his own fault. He believed he could have stopped it, and he hated himself for it, lashed out at everyone else in some vain attempt to recover himself. But from there, it only ever got worse.
[Young Adult] Years later, they had another dog. But Romulus had refused to get acquainted with it. He had grown to hate the things. Diana, his loving mother, had grown ill. It had started off as a cough, but as the days passed, her breath became harder and harder to grasp. At the time, there was only one doctor available, and that was the man that controlled the power, the wealthy individual that lived in the stained brick manor just over the hill. His name had been Waylon, and no matter how often Edward pleaded, the man refused to help. He had made the argument that they couldn't afford to waste precious resources on a cough, but they all knew it was a lie. The man was hoarding the medicine for himself, and as a result, Diana never lasted another week. The father and son grieved, but while Edward dug her grave in lonely silence, Romulus had fled. He had spent the day gathering his supplies, fuming, before making his way to the manor in the deep of the night. He had been smart, he had barricaded the doors, cut the power, and then he had set it all on fire. Romulus had stayed only to watch the home burn, and to insure Waylon had been reduced to nothing but ash. The sadness faded with the smoke, a sign of change, and for the first time in such a long while, he didn't hate himself anymore. But a new life demanded forsaking the old one. The last thing Romulus had ever done was shoot his father in the chest, and that was the day Sheogorath was born.
One-Shot for History
Later on, Sheogorath met two people of whom he grew quite close to, Taboa and Roman. Taboa started out less than violent, but when a desperate man killed one of her favorite horses, Sheogorath was eager to hop in and manipulate his friend into becoming a killer by assisting her in hunting down the horse killer and encouraging her to kill. Afterward, the group, growing closer, with Sheogorath eventually coming to like Taboa as more than a friend, began to spread mischief in their wake, and soon began to refer to themselves as as a group. Where they walked, they caused mistrust, and sometimes fear, and that was just how they liked it. One day, an old bandit group, the same one belonging to the group he had murdered much earlier in revenge for killing his dog, captured Sheogorath and held him in their camp until, eventually, Sheogorath talked his way into joining. He remained with the group for some time before leaving after a dispute with the leader.
[Adult - The Badlands] For quite some time, Sheogorath roamed the land, joining the occasional small group, killing the occasional person. One day he heard of the Badlands, and decided to travel forth and join. After joining, things took a quick turn. Not many enjoyed his presence, particularily one named Parks, of whom despised his very existence. Sheogorath could say the same to her, especially after she was promoted to the guard position despite her hateful behavior. He was quickly promoted as well, to the rank of vanguard, just below Park's position. He didn't mind much, but no doubt she certainly did. Worse yet, the pair were sent together on a scouting mission to find a new home, and Parks had nearly shot him after he had probed into her mind. They eventually found a small town on the beach, and the Badlands started their preparations to move. In that time, Sheogorath had also murdered a young woman on Northstar District territory, prompting their leader to investigate. Sheogorath made some not so friendly comments, resulting on him being put on probation. Later, out of revenge, Sheogorath hunted down the leader, and assaulted him, but left the man alive and alone in the jungle. Not long after, Sheogorath was promoted to the Guard position. Further mischief followed, from a raid on Flintlock to another murder, before he was promoted even further, to Capo.
One day, just after he was promoted to Underboss, Sheogorath was patrolling the border when he ended up being ambushed by a pair of individuals, one of which he had met before as a bandit. The two take Sheogorath to their far off camp and torture him as a form of revenge, for at one point in the past, Sheogorath had killed the man's brother. Eventually, Sheogorath got free of his ropes and killed the couple out of hatred for what they had done to him. Injured and disoriented, Sheogorath wandered in the hopes of finding the Badlands again, when he instead came across the Group of Captors, led by his friend J. Sheogorath was held prisoner by J, tattooed and branded like an animal, he blamed himself, believing it to be his fault for hurting J's feelings. Over time, however, he realized that J was simply abusing him, using him, and grew enraged. Challenging J, Sheogorath managed to escape the Group of Captors. On his way back home, he came across a German Shepard, and adopted him, naming him Thadon.
After returning to the Badlands, weak and distressed, he retired from his Underboss position and lived a few months in peace before his pet rabbit, Haskill, passed away from illness around the same time the real human Haskill showed up in the Badlands. Feeling pity for Sheogorath, human Haskill offered Sheogorath his pet ferret, Twister, before leaving the Badlands behind. Sheogorath was left behind once more in a bittersweet display, though he quickly grew attached to the ferret. Slowly but surely, he began to recover from his loss and hardship. And then The Scarecrow attacked him. Wielding a bio-chemical known as fear toxin, used to cause hallucinations of one's greatest fears, he lunged at the former Underboss. Sheogorath was subjected to his worse fears, breaking his mind and leaving him struggling with flashbacks and the will to recover.