Post by Tank on Sept 2, 2014 8:42:21 GMT -5
Surface Identity
Birth Name: Rebecca Duffy
Alias: Tank
Age: 16
Sexuality: Neither.
Gender: Female.
Race/Ethnicity: Human, Black Irish.
Current Location: Miracle
Occupation: Portia's Personal Bodyguard.
True Identity
Personality: Generally quiet and keeps to herself, though she has her moments of being a bit of a loud, smart mouthed, outspoken, and slightly belligerent kind of young woman. Some would call her immature and juvenile though there is a layer to her persona that usually goes unseen under the mask of her rowdy and rambunctious nature. Often overlooked, Tank has a strong sense of duty, loyalty, and justice that cannot be matched or overcome even when pitted against the most cruel of methods to break her, as proven during a brief subjugation of tortures that resulted in failure and the embarrassment, and the eventual deaths, of her captors. She's also highly encouraging and motivational though her methods can best be compared to what some would call "tough-love," as she calls out those aspiring to be stronger by their weaknesses in hopes of motivating them to push beyond that.
When hard pressed, she simply deals with the situation, when caught between a rock and a hard place, she simply breaks her way through. Obstacles are child's play to her and nothing at all seems to capable of breaking her of that characteristically care-free yet gruff spirit. She is the embodiment of an immovable object in almost every way but even she, in all her strengths and virtues, is not without concerns or grievances.
On the contrary, Tank can't seem to handle not being able to handle things. When situations become simply too much for her to break free from, she becomes quiet and reserved as though fearful and intimidated and though this may be only partly true to an extent, she somehow always manages to conjure up enough strength and willpower to conquer even these inevitable odds. Some may say that she, herself, is devoid of fear and anxiety though in truth, she simply redirects the negative aspects of these normal functions of the human cognitive systems to a more focused and concentrated spirit.
Religious Beliefs: Had a short-lived curiosity in the Christian God and cares very little for Gaia.
Important Relationships
Disorders/Illnesses: Some might say that Tank has an unhealthy obsession with Portia's well-being that gets in the way of her own personal life. That being said, this obsession can very well be likened to an illness or, at the very least, a hindrance to the progression of her own life. Tank, however, would see things differently as her justification stems from a moral creed in which the weak require the hand of the strong.
Gift
Virtue: Temperantia
Virtue Marking Placement: Attached to her right shoulder blade spanning a good majority of the muscle group itself.
Regular Skills: Despite her rough look and street-kid demeanor, Tank is highly intelligent though everything she has learned has been self taught. Ranging from Piano, psychology, to common Physics, Tank's mind is a compendium of knowledge that, at one point, surpassed that of her peers. Had the world not ended, she would have perhaps been the world's most bad-ass PhD in several fields of study but the inevitable occurred and now she serves a more fulfilling and substantial purpose.
Tank is also a good cook.
Her fighting abilities are entirely brawler level as she learned everything she needed to know about punching one's face in through years of growing up in various American ghettos after having moved to the country to live with relatives after the ill-fated incident roused familial difficulties and mental deteriorations. Back in those days, she'd usually take the brunt of the blame for causing disturbances and the like, thus earning her a brief stint in juvenile detention, but in a world where she's able to freely swing her fists and hammers in self defense, she finds that her combat aptitude has quite highly advanced. As such, her calloused and battle conditioned body is capable of enduring much in way of incoming physical threats and her mental aptitude seems on par, if not surpassing, of her physical thresholds.
Weapons:
Other Items:
History:
"It's just you and me now, kid." She and a child, a boy smaller than she, stood side by side, backs against the wall as a group of about eight bigger, bulkier, upperclassmen stood blocking all manner of escape. The intent and the circumstance was obvious even to the most oblivious on-looker and though there were on-lookers, both oblivious and observant, none dared to even raise a finger to offer aid or call a cop.
They were entirely on their own.
"You ready?" She had the air of strength; a determined will and a powerful spirit that would fight these ruffians to the bitter end but the truth of the matter was obvious; they, themselves, would be the victims here and they would not leave unscathed but at least it didn't last long. As for why? Perhaps the many visions of a past long passed compelled her toward the very act put into action in those very moments, perhaps red was unbearable and that of her own.
The beating, though it lasted hours in their eyes, passed quickly but at the very least she managed to hold her own and take a majority of the boy's beatings, as though a shield, before the gang got bored, took the pocket change, and went their way leaving behind curses and cussings and promises of greater wrath should they look upon these two in these streets again.
"...The hell were you doing around here anyway?" They were laid out completely. Her breathless words rang out like a song in the midsts of the silence of the aftermath of chaos. She lay there on her back against that cold and dirty pavement and the small boy simply writed in pain as he clenched his stomach with whimpered and weak whimperings, "You know better than to walk around like that around here like some idiot lost about his way."
"I.." -
"Shut up," She looked up at the sky, not once looking his way despite not allowing him to speak, "Just shut the hell up." She didn't want to hear it; she knew exactly what he was going to say.
She stood up slowly. A few bruises were likely to come about from this event but it didn't seem to be anything warranting a trip to the doctors. The boy was lucky she was there as he would only suffer minor damage to his physical body thanks to her, for he was weak, too weak to have been able to make it out of something like that unbroken if he had been alone. She wasn't exactly mad at him, after all, why would she be? He was incapable of handling a situation like that on his own and though they indeed rose up scathed and victimized, they were by no means broken or dead.
It could've been worse.
She didn't boast as she pulled the boy up from his pitiful state.
"You seem alright enough," She picked his bag off the floor and handed it to him. He took it meekly, embarrassed that he had been so weak in the presence of a girl who seemed to embody a measure of masculinity and strength surpassing his own, "Next time you come around here," She held onto that bag as he grabbed it in his own hands, "You'd best have some meat on them bones, you hear?"
Little time passed between these two went their way.
A nod, an unspoken "thank you," a pat on the shoulder, and a realization of something, from something, more profound than she.
That sky hadn't been more clearly seen through the eyes that she saw through than in those very moments when she laid upon the asphalt looking up at it.
She recalled a past not so long passed;
A past she simply could not get passed.
An intruder,
A gun,
Siblings not much younger than she,
Blood,
Tears,
Anger,
Regret,
Weakness,
An unwillingness to forget and she fell to her knees there in that street and cried not for the pain of a broken finger and a cracked rib but of hatred for being too weak, a hatred for being so incapable, an outright disgust of her own physical and mental inabilities, and she knew then as she knew always that she had to do whatever it took to get to that place where she needed to be, and also beyond that. Her resolved quickened to that ambition, her spirit burned even though her heart ached.
She had to be strong;
Stronger still than she was and would ever be but not for her own self.
Appearance
Build: About 5'6" - Pleasantly Muscular.
Hair: Brunette.
Eyes: Hazel
Clothing Preference: Light and simple though sometimes wears a crudely made spaulders made of whatever materials are available at the time.
Other: A large scar etched diagonally along her back.
Playby:
RP Sample: -
Miscellaneous Information
OOC Account: King
Other Characters: King, Card, Tank, Incursio, Billy, Jezebel, Trundle, Malphite
Contact Information: -
Password: -
Birth Name: Rebecca Duffy
Alias: Tank
Age: 16
Sexuality: Neither.
Gender: Female.
Race/Ethnicity: Human, Black Irish.
Current Location: Miracle
Occupation: Portia's Personal Bodyguard.
True Identity
Personality: Generally quiet and keeps to herself, though she has her moments of being a bit of a loud, smart mouthed, outspoken, and slightly belligerent kind of young woman. Some would call her immature and juvenile though there is a layer to her persona that usually goes unseen under the mask of her rowdy and rambunctious nature. Often overlooked, Tank has a strong sense of duty, loyalty, and justice that cannot be matched or overcome even when pitted against the most cruel of methods to break her, as proven during a brief subjugation of tortures that resulted in failure and the embarrassment, and the eventual deaths, of her captors. She's also highly encouraging and motivational though her methods can best be compared to what some would call "tough-love," as she calls out those aspiring to be stronger by their weaknesses in hopes of motivating them to push beyond that.
When hard pressed, she simply deals with the situation, when caught between a rock and a hard place, she simply breaks her way through. Obstacles are child's play to her and nothing at all seems to capable of breaking her of that characteristically care-free yet gruff spirit. She is the embodiment of an immovable object in almost every way but even she, in all her strengths and virtues, is not without concerns or grievances.
On the contrary, Tank can't seem to handle not being able to handle things. When situations become simply too much for her to break free from, she becomes quiet and reserved as though fearful and intimidated and though this may be only partly true to an extent, she somehow always manages to conjure up enough strength and willpower to conquer even these inevitable odds. Some may say that she, herself, is devoid of fear and anxiety though in truth, she simply redirects the negative aspects of these normal functions of the human cognitive systems to a more focused and concentrated spirit.
Religious Beliefs: Had a short-lived curiosity in the Christian God and cares very little for Gaia.
Important Relationships
- Portia - A blind girl of about 14 years of age. Apparently she had been brutally beaten by bandits, robbed of her belongings, and was subjected to a failed rape attempt prior to Tank's intervention. Tank jokingly calls her an elf due to her unusual pointed ears, slender figure, and pale skin.
- Incursio - A friend and rival. These two are often seen bickering over minute details concerning moral ethics, justifications thereof, their contrasting ideologies, and what's to blame for the world being the way it is.
- Brock - Tank's personal Blacksmith; a midget.
Disorders/Illnesses: Some might say that Tank has an unhealthy obsession with Portia's well-being that gets in the way of her own personal life. That being said, this obsession can very well be likened to an illness or, at the very least, a hindrance to the progression of her own life. Tank, however, would see things differently as her justification stems from a moral creed in which the weak require the hand of the strong.
Gift
Virtue: Temperantia
Virtue Marking Placement: Attached to her right shoulder blade spanning a good majority of the muscle group itself.
Regular Skills: Despite her rough look and street-kid demeanor, Tank is highly intelligent though everything she has learned has been self taught. Ranging from Piano, psychology, to common Physics, Tank's mind is a compendium of knowledge that, at one point, surpassed that of her peers. Had the world not ended, she would have perhaps been the world's most bad-ass PhD in several fields of study but the inevitable occurred and now she serves a more fulfilling and substantial purpose.
Tank is also a good cook.
Her fighting abilities are entirely brawler level as she learned everything she needed to know about punching one's face in through years of growing up in various American ghettos after having moved to the country to live with relatives after the ill-fated incident roused familial difficulties and mental deteriorations. Back in those days, she'd usually take the brunt of the blame for causing disturbances and the like, thus earning her a brief stint in juvenile detention, but in a world where she's able to freely swing her fists and hammers in self defense, she finds that her combat aptitude has quite highly advanced. As such, her calloused and battle conditioned body is capable of enduring much in way of incoming physical threats and her mental aptitude seems on par, if not surpassing, of her physical thresholds.
Weapons:
- Promise - A type of modified metallic war-mallet that has been outfitted with several reinforcements and converted into a genuine weapon of war. It was once carried by a bandit leader but Tank took hold of it after defeating him, and his troop, in combat and claimed it as her own. Though it's size in both the shaft's length and the hammer head is quite large, even in proportion to Tank's own body, Tank, herself, has no trouble lifting or swinging it.
Other Items:
- Brass: A cheaply made singlet knuckle piece (Other half not found). Worn on one hand for those unarmed moments of tension.
- Stings: A cheaply made yet effective leather glove with hobnails along the knuckles. It's use is obvious and it also serves as a makeshift pairing for the Brass.
- Steel Toe Boots: Not exactly an item worth mentioning but the steel toe does come in handy when the extra "umph!" is needed.
History:
"It's just you and me now, kid." She and a child, a boy smaller than she, stood side by side, backs against the wall as a group of about eight bigger, bulkier, upperclassmen stood blocking all manner of escape. The intent and the circumstance was obvious even to the most oblivious on-looker and though there were on-lookers, both oblivious and observant, none dared to even raise a finger to offer aid or call a cop.
They were entirely on their own.
"You ready?" She had the air of strength; a determined will and a powerful spirit that would fight these ruffians to the bitter end but the truth of the matter was obvious; they, themselves, would be the victims here and they would not leave unscathed but at least it didn't last long. As for why? Perhaps the many visions of a past long passed compelled her toward the very act put into action in those very moments, perhaps red was unbearable and that of her own.
The beating, though it lasted hours in their eyes, passed quickly but at the very least she managed to hold her own and take a majority of the boy's beatings, as though a shield, before the gang got bored, took the pocket change, and went their way leaving behind curses and cussings and promises of greater wrath should they look upon these two in these streets again.
"...The hell were you doing around here anyway?" They were laid out completely. Her breathless words rang out like a song in the midsts of the silence of the aftermath of chaos. She lay there on her back against that cold and dirty pavement and the small boy simply writed in pain as he clenched his stomach with whimpered and weak whimperings, "You know better than to walk around like that around here like some idiot lost about his way."
"I.." -
"Shut up," She looked up at the sky, not once looking his way despite not allowing him to speak, "Just shut the hell up." She didn't want to hear it; she knew exactly what he was going to say.
She stood up slowly. A few bruises were likely to come about from this event but it didn't seem to be anything warranting a trip to the doctors. The boy was lucky she was there as he would only suffer minor damage to his physical body thanks to her, for he was weak, too weak to have been able to make it out of something like that unbroken if he had been alone. She wasn't exactly mad at him, after all, why would she be? He was incapable of handling a situation like that on his own and though they indeed rose up scathed and victimized, they were by no means broken or dead.
It could've been worse.
She didn't boast as she pulled the boy up from his pitiful state.
"You seem alright enough," She picked his bag off the floor and handed it to him. He took it meekly, embarrassed that he had been so weak in the presence of a girl who seemed to embody a measure of masculinity and strength surpassing his own, "Next time you come around here," She held onto that bag as he grabbed it in his own hands, "You'd best have some meat on them bones, you hear?"
Little time passed between these two went their way.
A nod, an unspoken "thank you," a pat on the shoulder, and a realization of something, from something, more profound than she.
That sky hadn't been more clearly seen through the eyes that she saw through than in those very moments when she laid upon the asphalt looking up at it.
She recalled a past not so long passed;
A past she simply could not get passed.
An intruder,
A gun,
Siblings not much younger than she,
Blood,
Tears,
Anger,
Regret,
Weakness,
An unwillingness to forget and she fell to her knees there in that street and cried not for the pain of a broken finger and a cracked rib but of hatred for being too weak, a hatred for being so incapable, an outright disgust of her own physical and mental inabilities, and she knew then as she knew always that she had to do whatever it took to get to that place where she needed to be, and also beyond that. Her resolved quickened to that ambition, her spirit burned even though her heart ached.
She had to be strong;
Stronger still than she was and would ever be but not for her own self.
And the world simply came crashing down thereafter.
Appearance
Build: About 5'6" - Pleasantly Muscular.
Hair: Brunette.
Eyes: Hazel
Clothing Preference: Light and simple though sometimes wears a crudely made spaulders made of whatever materials are available at the time.
Other: A large scar etched diagonally along her back.
Playby:
RP Sample: -
Miscellaneous Information
OOC Account: King
Other Characters: King, Card, Tank, Incursio, Billy, Jezebel, Trundle, Malphite
Contact Information: -
Password: -
