Post by Harris on Oct 29, 2012 0:34:02 GMT -5
[atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, -moz-border-radius-bottomright: 5px; -moz-border-radius-topleft: 5px; -moz-border-radius-topright: 5px; -moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 5px; border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px; width: 450px, btable] [style=margin-left: 20px; margin-bottom: -4px;]» HARRIS ANDREW COYT [/style]» Age: |
» Gender:[/b][/font] Male
» Sexuality:[/b][/font] Heterosexual
» Race:[/b][/font] Hellhoud.
» Affiliation:[/b][/font] Neutral
» Occupation:[/b][/font] Hired Man[/div][/td][/tr]
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[style=margin-left: 20px; margin-bottom: -4px;]» PERSONALITY
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The unrelenting overconfidence that he usually swings around is probably his natural mythos persona—which has been pointed out by several acquaintances. This same confidence affords him the ability to oppose large threats without any doubts; it also gives him the unshakeable courage when things simply seem impossible. Harris is brash, stubborn, and immovable when he wants to be, but he also appreciates having a good time. It is rare really for him to think before he acts, so he ends up rushing into large, and problematic, situations before he can try to find a relaxing solution.
However; it’s not all about being a loud mouth or rambunctious. When he isn’t of course there is a good amount of time pouring over paperwork, and spending moments without talking. Solitude can be extremely important to him. Beyond the wall of boasts, witty comments, and sarcasm there is a certain amount of thoughtfulness; quiet time if you will. Someone told him once, that if he can’t stand his own company how could he expect someone else to do it. From that point forward he was determined to be able to at least tolerate himself.
When with people he is unfamiliar with he may tone down his arrogance, but most of the time he comes across as an prick. Harris isn’t above swearing in public, or loudly for that matter and they are constantly added to make his descriptions far more colourful than they need to be. Though he is often seen as the man you don’t want to cross, he takes no nonsense when it comes to people slacking on his time. Though when he is on other people’s time it doesn’t bother him to do the same; he is full of contradiction.[/div][/td][/tr]
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[style=margin-left: 20px; margin-bottom: -4px;]» APPEARANCE
[/style]» Height:
[/b][/font][/size] Five ‘ eleven”.» Weight:[/b][/font][/size] One hundred eighty-six pounds.
»[/b] At the top of his head was a mess of white hair, untamed and alive. More often than not it is pulled back into a loose pony tail in attempts to give it some order. In length it comes down just past his jaw, because if it gets too long he usually cuts it. Frequently he has been known to run his fingers through it as if he were slicking it back, or trying to mat it down. As he brushes a strand or two away, behind his ear, you are drawn to his eyes.
Almost foreign, those blue eyes that change to red from time to time. They can be hypnotic. Ever focused or seeming to be focused on whatever or whomever they settle on. What hitches you the most is the steely gaze, the unwavering focus that seems to dissect you as he looks you over; and if anything makes you feel exposed. Much like a hawk he surveys, he is dependent on them as a means to tell if people are worth his time. However; they tell about him more than anything else. They look worn out, like they have seen so much in not only his adventures, but that the faces are starting the mesh together.
Harris’ face looks experienced, for an apparent twenty-four he comes off much older more so in the aura that surrounds his body that belays to his actual age. His stature while only average makes him seem imposing saturated in the urge to rip people apart—the killing intent is so palpable. Though when he smiles, flashing his pearly whites in the trademark sly smile he so often wears, it makes him look like a wild man.
His arms are strong, toned all of it goes to show they have been worked to cultivate such results. Harris’ hands are calloused, very familiar with holding weapons, and agile legs that can skirt him around the sudden danger. Beneath the folds of clothes his body is a battlefield with a myriad of scars to tell the tale, from misshapen ones against his sides, to those that litter up to his chest, neck and shoulders.
A wild man most days, simply content in wearing a pair of sweat pants, and a short sleeve shirt there is not much that he wouldn’t wear. That’s not to say he doesn’t dress up when its appropriate, just that on an everyday he would much rather wear a fitting linen shirt, a pair of loose pants, and combat boots. All the usual clothing is variable depending on what he needs to get done, and if he needs to be in uniform then by all means he will wear it—and still function.
Harris would much rather be able to blend into the crowd than stand out in it; for tactical advantage of course. Currently he has grown quite fond of a black leather body suit, with half sleeves just below the elbows, covered in a vest—and blood red trench coat. The icing on the cake is the cloak that is down the length of his body. Along with a pair of leather shooters gloves, with the index fingers removed..[/div][/td][/tr]
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[style=margin-left: 20px; margin-bottom: -4px;]» COMBAT
[/style]Strengths
»
»[/b] Marksmanship proficiency.
»[/b] Peak physical conditioning.
»[/b] High pain tolerance.
»[/b] Slow healing factor.
Weaknesses
»[/b] Poor forethought, prone to tactical error.
»[/b] Easy to bait.
»[/b] Hot-headed, and prone to act on anger.
»[/b] Stubborn even when it puts others in danger.
Abilities
»[/b] Thunder and Lightning: Ha Initially the understanding of this style dealt with Harris’ purification of chi, mana, or magical source—the entomology prescribes that the lightning style is a mix between positive and negative energy sources. These sources are caused to collide and thus the lighting is brought to life, of course with the presence of basic metal elemental control. Now this wasn’t an ability that he was born with, it definitely came over time, with much practice at that. This art is depedent on a lot of give and take to produce a solid balance between the aspects to get a very rough and unpolished style that uses the "quality, not quantity" approach, as the art relies on having a very refined and pure energy content. The breathing method is key focal point of breathing is inhaling (negative charge) exhaling (positive charge).
»[/b] Lightning Fist Requires the basic understanding of Thunder and Lightning to develop the positive and negative charge into the fist, and use them to create lightning. It can be wielded freely from that point to strike. Conceptually, it can produce a current that can stun for long durations or short durations—but that depends on will power of the target, and the amount of energy put into it.
»[/b] Magnetic Force Lightning The principle behind this is to grab hold of the opponent while controlling personal electrical charge. With one hand Harris holds a positive charge by inhaling and a negative by exhaling with the other hand—when mixed with already stored energy it is possible to kill someone. It is without a doubt a highly excessive ability that can exhaust all of his energy, the rebound effects can be damaging.
»[/b] Reverse Fist of Lightning Stampede A bread and butter attack, usually conducted through touching several inanimate objects to leave a negative energy signature. When combined with a positive charge, it creates a devastating wave of lightning. The impact creates a thundering sound, for each decimated point of contact on the completely linear path. As the lightning travels outward, the charge and impact is considerably weaker.
»[/b] Ricochet Circulating around the concepts of trajectory, with a deft curve of the wrist mid fire, bullets are able to bounce between objects. A thin electrical current powers the bullet, allowing it the cushion to change direction. There is a minimum of two bounces per bullet, but if they follow a colliding path they are able to bounce off one another.
» Weapon:[/b][/font][/size]
Elizabeth: A customized Smith&Wesson SW1911 modified with a pivot trigger and modified for the increase firing rate to semi-auto. The gun’s sleek frame, and enhanced exterior for higher amounts of damage so it can be used to combat a varying degree of weapons. Compensating for close ranged combat use, with a custom combat sight system. Elizabeth was crafted specially for him after a terrifying experience in a gun fight, where he crushed the gun from excitement. So the grip was replaced to withstand even his tightest grip. With a ported muzzle compensator that reduces recoil and counteract muzzle flip. Extended barrel through the compensator and is ported to match the cuts in the compensators. Custom slide that have been noticeably thickened and reinforced along the slide travel rails and around the chamber and firing mechanism, the result is a slide that bears a resemblance to SIG-Sauer's M1911 line. A rail has been bolted to the forward portion of the frame. These rails are used to hold the compensators in place.
» Contract Information:[/b][/font][/size] Possession[/div][/td][/tr]
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[style=margin-left: 20px; margin-bottom: -4px;]» HISTORY
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x BEFORE POSSESSION[/i][/blockquote][/ul]
There was the graveyard where he was summoned to guard, it was of a young girl named Elizabeth who was brutally murdered, her body was left in shambled as it lay beneath the dirt. Sometimes she could hear her rustle, and bemoan from the afterlife. Sometimes her ghostly form would keep him company as he stood watch, and she would converse to help past the time. Even when he wandered away from the grave it seemed that he was automatically pulled back when he went too far. Now that wasn’t always the case, and sometimes Elizabeth begged often plead to see her parents. To that he always declined, whisking her away back to her grave when she tried to wander.
Until it became too much, his promises of tomorrow didn’t satiate her need to be away from this terrifying place and she ran off on her own. Once little Elizabeth had reached her old home, her attempts to speak to her parents turned tragic. So when the hound showed up to shoo her back to her resting place, it was grossly apparent that it wasn’t going to be done covertly. He didn’t exactly understand how his appearance would create a stir, as he tried to protect the little apparition from the screams of her mother; her father wasted no time taking a shot at the hound while he manifested as a large black horse.
Even with shaky aim the blow was critical.
x LAST ACT OF COURAGE[/i][/blockquote][/ul]
He had become a carrion protector, and death lingered over him. What could be more delicious than the essence of a Hellhound? Several times he shouted back the jaws of the end, and several more times he urged his dying body forward, leading the girl, placating her worry with reassuring words. Elizabeth held onto his fur, sobbing, and frantically apologizing for not listening, running away, and then endangering him. Even as she stood above her grave she could hardly look at him as he teetered to and fro then collapsed.
What happened next was shocking, and the little girl gave a portion of herself so that he could at least carry on for a little while. She wrote something in the dirt “Sol” she named him. Too bad it had been so late he would have liked a proper name besides the nondescript ‘Hellhound #4.’ Sol adjusted himself; right side being able to bear weight, while the back left leg was long since fallen lame. Doing the best he could to disguise himself with a perception barrier—so the humans wouldn’t notice him. When the strength in his bones gave, he was in front of a hospital. Like he was drawn there, there were several moments, especially here where the memory becomes hazy; mostly events leading from the outside of the hospital to the inside.
He stood in the delivery room, the weak pulse of the child, then waking up with his eyes wide open a new life. Sol had taken the body of the once dead child—but it came at a price seeing as he would have to live out his days as such. Soon he even forgot the name Elizabeth gave him, and he became Harris Andrew Coyt the trouble making child for Jane and Thomas. It seems that he came out of the gate living to the fullest; it was remarked several times that he was a boy without fear of death.
x OFF THE RADAR[/i][/blockquote][/ul]
Harris was twelve, there was a scuffle someone had shoved is mom in the grocery store, and for some reason there was no controlling the rage. Immediately he was at the throat of an older gentleman, there were no words just fists. Jane struggled to pull the child off of the man, and after a while she was successful once he accidentally reared his hand and struck her. She was taken back by the strength, which only made her more determined to get him out of the grocery store and home. Once he came to, Harris was horrified at what he had done—there was a portion of him that delighted in it, a monster that lurked in the darkness. The police came to their house later that day, but Harris was already gone when they walked in.
It went without saying that he had to learn how to fend for himself, and pick up a large portion of experience in the field. There wasn’t an immediate transition into taking freelance work, mostly because he didn’t quite understand the politics immediately; something about being a child makes you oblivious. His first real job was a pickpocket, it seemed easy enough, plus it was a skill that took a bit of time to refine so it distracted him from the hunger. Along the way to perfecting this rough gem of ability he got into his fair share of fights. The violence made him brazen, a bit more calloused than he had initially been. Arrogance was a seed that had been planted when he took from the wrong person, and instead of killing, he brought Harris into their world. Here he went off the map for six years, constantly the lapdog of his ‘overlords’ who exploited him for the abilities that he chanced to share.
On a free sale market, it was easy to see how the boy was profitable. This band of thieves would take the job, and then he would fulfill the requirements then make the money. Harris spent a lot of time locked away in the bunker they specifically carved out for him, and that was home, purely by choice.
x END OF THE ROAD[/i][/blockquote][/ul]
At eighteen he decided enough was enough, it was then that the jaws clamped down on the hand that fed—June Sixteenth—it was on the return from a ‘mission’ they sent him to capture a kid from an orphanage to be used as a ransom. A ploy to gain leverage for the humans against the mythos, the kid had been possessed temporarily by the son of a high ranking official somewhere or another. As far as back breaking straws go, the condition that they kept this kid in was what started the explosion. Consequentially the best part of it was the lack of emotion that Harris approached the decimation of his captors with.
It was a blood bath that resulted in him confronting the boss, Hoen Kelevra, whom thought it good to point a gun at his most valuable soldier. Panicked trigger pulls released bullets that embedded into Harris’ flesh and through the pain he trudged, thriving from it and smiling. Once the complete disposal was completed Harris released the child, and left this behind. For two years after that he lived in the slums, cooking out back of a Chinese restaurant, where they treated him like family. It was here that he picked up meditation, and learning the ways of controlling positive and negative chi. At twenty, he went from the restaurant to picking up odd-jobs as a new aged sell sword—procuring bounties and reprising his role working for both sides of the line. If the scratch was well enough, and he could get a bit of excitement from it so be it. [/div][/td][/tr]
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[style=margin-left: 20px; margin-bottom: -4px;]» MISCELLANEOUS
[/style]Extra
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[/b] Harris, while it would seem he is the type that is rough around the edges, he enjoys classical music in his free-time when he isn’t going around causing mischief. Following in suit with this fascination he also plays the viola.»
» Alias:[/b][/font][/size] HARRIS
» Other Characters:[/b][/font][/size] N/A
»[/b] Faceclaim:[/size]
DEVIL MAY CRY, Dante; HARRIS COYT
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coded by heroin of gangnam style for mythos use only
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