Post by jakfrost on Mar 1, 2010 12:55:53 GMT -5
Name: Rhodin (pronounced Ro-DAN like the sculptor) Booker
Age: 32
Origin: Born and raised in a not-so-affluent area of a decently well-to-do L4 colony.
Appearance: Rhodin is a purebred mutt in human standards and he looks it. He's roughly 5'8" and weighs just enough to be considered 'solid'. His eyes are a murky hazel and his hair, a dark reddish color shot through with early grey, is kept cropped relatively short. He tends to keep his wardrobe casual and simple, sticking to the more comfortable t-shirts and jean, with the occasional blazer from nicer occasions.
Biography: Born of a retail management father and a domestic servant mother, Rhodin and his two brothers grew up wanting for nothing but having very little extra to spare. Despite his age, Rhodin hasn't quite been able to figure out what he wants to do with his life. He's taken a number of different jobs over the years, usually only keeping the restless boredom at bay long enough to get a good handle on the skills specific to said job. He is somewhat of a jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none. At the moment, he pilots cargo transport ships from Earth to the colonies. He's pretty sure that won't be lasting too long, since being dirtside leaves him unnerved and therefore quite short-tempered despite normally being very mello.
Example roleplay:
Rhodin hurried down the crowded street, his grocery bag clutched closely to his side. Summer had just barely started but the little town that housed the spaceport was already packed to the brim with kids and families taking advantage of the warming weather and beach-front location. He just wanted to get back to the motel room that was his home while his ship was being refueled and passing inspection. Nothing like the open sea and sky to set a space-brat on edge.
There was a whooping cheer close behind him, and Rhodin was half turning to look when something collided heavily with his shoulder, nearly knocking his bag to the ground. Said battering ram didn't even slow down as he called back a quick "Sorry, man!" and continued his race toward the open shoreline.
"Watch it!" Rhodin snapped and then was nearly run over a second time as two more figures raced by after the first. "Hey!" For all three, he got the impression of dark hair and space pale skin and he couldn't exactly tell if they were racing or chasing but that didn't matter at all since those were his oranges rolling over the ground in front of him and his eggs that were hanging from a two fingered grip, ready to follow the fruit. "Son of a-"
A hand, attached to a well dressed blonde, reached for the eggs before he lost his grip as another dark haired kid chased after the citrus. "We're sorry about our friends. They are rather excited about our vacation. We don't get out much." That much must have been true, since these two also had the same coloring of space-brats.
Rhodin grumbled a 'thanks' then added, "Tell 'em to watch where they're going." The blonde nodded. Both kids deposited the groceries back in his bag then darted off in the same direction as they're friends.
Rhodin just shook his head and started back to his motel, trying not to think about how much that one blonde looked like he belonged on the society pages of an L4 tabloid.
Age: 32
Origin: Born and raised in a not-so-affluent area of a decently well-to-do L4 colony.
Appearance: Rhodin is a purebred mutt in human standards and he looks it. He's roughly 5'8" and weighs just enough to be considered 'solid'. His eyes are a murky hazel and his hair, a dark reddish color shot through with early grey, is kept cropped relatively short. He tends to keep his wardrobe casual and simple, sticking to the more comfortable t-shirts and jean, with the occasional blazer from nicer occasions.
Biography: Born of a retail management father and a domestic servant mother, Rhodin and his two brothers grew up wanting for nothing but having very little extra to spare. Despite his age, Rhodin hasn't quite been able to figure out what he wants to do with his life. He's taken a number of different jobs over the years, usually only keeping the restless boredom at bay long enough to get a good handle on the skills specific to said job. He is somewhat of a jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none. At the moment, he pilots cargo transport ships from Earth to the colonies. He's pretty sure that won't be lasting too long, since being dirtside leaves him unnerved and therefore quite short-tempered despite normally being very mello.
Example roleplay:
Rhodin hurried down the crowded street, his grocery bag clutched closely to his side. Summer had just barely started but the little town that housed the spaceport was already packed to the brim with kids and families taking advantage of the warming weather and beach-front location. He just wanted to get back to the motel room that was his home while his ship was being refueled and passing inspection. Nothing like the open sea and sky to set a space-brat on edge.
There was a whooping cheer close behind him, and Rhodin was half turning to look when something collided heavily with his shoulder, nearly knocking his bag to the ground. Said battering ram didn't even slow down as he called back a quick "Sorry, man!" and continued his race toward the open shoreline.
"Watch it!" Rhodin snapped and then was nearly run over a second time as two more figures raced by after the first. "Hey!" For all three, he got the impression of dark hair and space pale skin and he couldn't exactly tell if they were racing or chasing but that didn't matter at all since those were his oranges rolling over the ground in front of him and his eggs that were hanging from a two fingered grip, ready to follow the fruit. "Son of a-"
A hand, attached to a well dressed blonde, reached for the eggs before he lost his grip as another dark haired kid chased after the citrus. "We're sorry about our friends. They are rather excited about our vacation. We don't get out much." That much must have been true, since these two also had the same coloring of space-brats.
Rhodin grumbled a 'thanks' then added, "Tell 'em to watch where they're going." The blonde nodded. Both kids deposited the groceries back in his bag then darted off in the same direction as they're friends.
Rhodin just shook his head and started back to his motel, trying not to think about how much that one blonde looked like he belonged on the society pages of an L4 tabloid.
