Post by Alonzo Cabrera on Jan 13, 2013 15:30:57 GMT -5
GENERAL
Full Name: Alonzo Cabrera
Race: Elf
Age: 38
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Birthplace: Rialto, Antiva.
Residence: Antiva City, Antiva.
Affiliation: Antivan Crows
Occupation: Assassin
Religion: Andrastian, technically.
COMBAT
Class: Rogue
Character Stats:
(You begin with six points, which you can divide within the group below as you want. For each level you get, you gain one point. This is what makes your character special, and each attribute has its advantages.)
Strength:
Dexterity: 2
Willpower: 1
Magic:
Cunning: 3
Gear:
Antivan leather armour, with boots and gloves to match.
Two enchanted dragon-bone daggers, both with paralysing enchantments.
An Antivan longbow
Alonzo always carries smaller hidden throwing knives, a collection of poison vials and equipment to make traps. He also often wears a dark cloak and cowl to hide his face and distinctive features.
CHARACTERISTICS
Appearance: Alonzo is the very picture of an elf raised on the streets. He is short, even for an elf, and scrawny in build. He’s all lithe feline grace however, and stronger than he looks. His skin is very pale, an odd thing given his home country. His hair is dark, almost black in colour, short and scruffy. His eyes are a bright icy blue in colour. He has dark tattoos under his eyes, sweeping lines that make him look somewhat animalistic. He also has a deep scar on his right cheek that distorts his features slightly when he smiles. The rest of his features are somewhat long and pointed. He could possibly be described as attractive, by some, but he is what he is.
Personality: Alonzo’s personality varies depending on the situation he finds himself in. He is a wonderful actor, and always keeps his body language and expressions in check to make sure he’s presenting the appropriate face for his situation. He can be commanding, meek, obedient, charming... whatever he needs to be. He’s very manipulative, and in truth he enjoys the intrigue as much as the bloodshed, in his profession. He does love his job, however, and has a particularly sadistic side to him. He is very stubborn and persistent, refusing to back down once he is set on a task. He’s an accomplished liar and enjoys the very best in life, which he can afford to do. Alonzo’s been around the block a few times, and he finds there’s not much left in the world that can shock him.
HISTORY
Alonzo was born in Rialto in Antiva. To whom, he has no idea, although one of the priests at the Chantry did hint that his father might have been a Crow. He was dumped at the Chantry aged only two weeks. He was raised by the priests there, for the most part, although when he was old enough to walk he tended to disappear for days at a time. By the time he was seven he was pickpocketing in the market, with much success, and pretty much raising himself. Not an unusual childhood for an orphan like himself, although he rarely worked alongside the other children who fought for survival on the streets. When he was eight, he chose a bad target, and was caught with his hand in the pocket of an Antivan Crow. He managed to escape the man's grasp and forced the Crow to chase him across half the city. Apparently he'd made an impression, however, since the Crow didn't kill him. Instead the Crow dragged him off to join the famed guild of assassins, dumping Alonzo in one of the apartments where the youngest Crow apprentices lived.
Alonzo relished in the training he recieved. Having already shown a talent for stealth, he found that the training honed and improved this talent wonderfully. He also learned many more things, and it became clear that his particular talents lay in trap making and dual weilding combat with daggers. He was small, but quick and agile, which often gave him an advantage. He had already been fairly desensitised to blood and death, such things were common enough a sight. Alonzo made his first kill aged only ten... an apprentice had stolen something from him and Alonzo had taken his revenge during the night by strangling the boy with his own belt. Of course any Crow who survives to adolescence has done well. By age sixteen he was taking on solo contracts and performing very well at every job he took on.
One job however, almost got the better of him. Alonzo had become very arrogant, and definitely cocky, and his target was much more skilled in combat than he'd expected. Alonzo had won the fight, barely, but he was left with the deep scar on his face, which remains obvious to this day. It served as a reminder to him that he could always improve his skills, and brought everything into focus for him.
He remained based in Rialto for a number of years, taking on contract after contract, making a name for himself as a skilled assassin. Making plenty of enemies too. He became renowned for taking on high profile contracts, and difficult targets, always seeking new challenges to test his abilities. He always liked to work alone, however, and very rarely did he take on a job which required a team. When he reached his mid-twenties a change of scene was in order and thus he moved to Antiva City, which is where he currently bases himself. Although in recent years he has taken on more contracts that allow him to travel, and he has spent time in Orlais, the Free Marches and even Ferelden once or twice. However he has stayed well out of the way of the Blight. More recently, given that he now ranks very highly among the Crows, Alonzo is taking on more dangerous jobs, often those involving hunting other Crows.
BEHIND THE MASK
Player’s Pen Name: Emi
Contact: PM or Googletalk: eminems6jelliclehaven@gmail.com
Roleplay Experience:About seven or eight now. Forum rp, chat/IM rp, videogames for the most part.
Language(s): English... learning Japanese
How did you find us?: Through friends and affiliate links
Roleplay Sample:
Roleplay Sample:
It had been laughably easy to escape the fierce battle, and he was already out of sight when he heard someone shout that he’d abandoned the mercs. It looked like one of their number had already fallen. No matter. The coin could only be shared by those who survived the fight. Alonzo Cabrera had other things on his mind. And they did a decent job of distracting the Varterral.
Thing was, he knew that the creature was guarding more than just its treasure hoard. That was why he had come, and he had to move quickly. The sounds of the fight were quieter as he moved into the tunnel but still clearly audible from a distance. Which meant his prey was aware that someone was here. From the accounts he’d heard, this tunnel led deeper into the mountain but there was no route to the outside. His prey was cornered.
The only downside was that Cam couldn’t be here with him, he knew she’d get a kick out of this. She’d probably have written an epic song about it too. He’d have all the juicy details to share when he got back though. His footsteps were silent, his eyes alert in the darkness, checking every shadow even as he became one with them. He was on the hunt, but the one he hunted was skilled. A fellow Crow, a fellow runaway Crow at that, one that had made little secret of his location of late. Difference was, Zevran Aranai had no intention of going back to the Crows. Alonzo did.
There he was. Alonzo smirked to himself, pausing to watch the frantic activity as the blonde elf packed his things. He travelled light, which was wise. Alonzo took great pleasure in ‘accidentally’ stepping on a rat skeleton near his feet, making a pleasant crunching sound as the bones turned to dust. The change in the other elf was instant, he became tense, alert and cautious. A slight shift in grip on a dagger, and he turned.
It was testament to Alonzo’s skill that he was not spotted right away. He could see Zevran’s amber eyes searching for the source of the noise. A second glance gave it away and Alonzo moved out from the shadows.
“How long did you think you could run for?” he drawled, enjoying the spark of recognition in Zevran’s eyes. He pulled his hood down, revealing his distinctive features, so there could be no doubt.
“Not long enough, it seems,” Zevran replied, keeping his stance casual. “How long did you think you could play dead, Alonzo.”
“Oh, just long enough to do what needs to be done,” Alonzo replied with a flippant wave of his dagger. “The Crows will learn of my survival... and those who live will not forget my return to Antiva. A shame you won’t be there to see it.”
“You speak like you’ve been away for years,” Zevran observed, playing the game. His escape was blocked, and he had little choice but to join in the game until he figured out the rules.
“I know, it’s not been so long,” Alonzo said with a shrug of his shoulders. “See, things have to change. The Crows are no longer feared as we once were. There are people who think they can compete, can do it better. I was sent to break Damian Vega from prison... he’s become weaker.”
“Oh? So you think you can change things?”
Alonzo grinned. “I know I can. I should have done it years ago. More heads will roll, Zevran, but you’re lucky enough to be the first.”
“Ah, lucky me. So... this is it?”
“Looks like," Alonzo replied, taking a step closer. He was going to enjoy every minute of this. It looked like Zevran was ready for a fight too. Wonderful.
The fight was going to be brutal, and neither assassin saw fit to waste any more time on playful banter. Alonzo’s first move was indeed a rather bold one, a powerful strike which connected with a clang against the blade Zevran brought up to defend himself. The blows were traded lightning fast, parried equally quickly. Truly there was not much in it; they were well matched in terms of skill, speed, dexterity.
Neither elf wanted to be the first one to slip up, they both knew full well that one slip could mean certain death. This was no longer a game of cat and mouse, this was the fight that only one would walk away from. A common belief is that the first to bleed is the first to die.
Alonzo knew this wasn’t necessarily true, and even as he felt the cold steel slice deep into his skin, catching him right below his right eye, he had his now empty hand wrapped around Zevran’s throat, the other hand grabbing the blond elf’s wrist, squeezing until he felt the bones crack and the fancy dagger fell to the ground with a clatter. He grinned, blue eyes lit with lust for the fight, the expression made all the more animalistic by the bloody wound on his face.
“You didn’t think I’d make it that easy for you, did you?” Alonzo asked, shoving backwards until Zevran’s head cracked against the cold stone wall. “You should know better, Zevran.”
The distant sounds of the battle in the larger cavern echoed in the silence that followed. Zevran knew the game was up. He said nothing, there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t give Alonzo some kind of satisfaction. He knew he was in for a painful death, resigned to it.
It was easy for Alonzo to lose himself in the moment, he’d gone to great pains to prepare for this moment, considering he had lost all of his equipment in Ferelden. Zevran proved quite a match for his techniques of torture too, which was fun, to test how much it would take to break him. Needless to say, by the time he was done, Zevran was ready to die. Zevran, a fellow Crow... deserved a clean death after all that. It was the way it was done.
“You did well,” Alonzo said, pulling the thin, sharp blade out of his boot. This one was spotless, and impossibly sharp. “I’m honestly impressed.”
A weak laugh came from the other elf. “Good to know,” his voice was weak now, “You haven’t lost your touch...”
Alonzo smirked, raising an eyebrow. “No, I’ve still got it. Goodbye, Zevran.” He slid the sharp blade between Zevran’s ribs, never failing to miss the heart. Alonzo watched the light fade from his eyes, feeling that warm satisfaction one can usually only get from a very good brandy, or a good fuck. He had done it, like he’d always promised he would. A moment to reflect on this historic moment, then he was ready to move on with the next part of his plan. Unfortunately the equipment needed to break bones was too much for him to carry. Luckily, this wasn’t the first time Alonzo had decapitated a corpse with just a dagger. Didn’t seem right to taint the longsword...
“Ah...” he sighed with satisfaction as the blade found that spot where he could disarticulate the neck bones. A few more cuts and he had the head. A burlap sack, it’s temporary home... once back in Kirkwall he would be able to purchase a large jar of honey to preserve this item long enough to send it to Antiva. The head of the traitor. He could afford the honey.
He cleaned and sheathed his blades, picking over the supplies Zevran had left. The dead Crow had no need for them now. The sword, Vigilance, and the dagger, Finesse. Lovely weapons, and a worthwhile prize to keep for himself. A few other useful items, and he was ready to go, making sure to take the head with him. The corpse was left for the spiders, barely recognisable as elvhen, let alone as Zevran. He followed the path back to the main cavern, wondering how the mercs were getting on, and if they’d try to kill him. He hoped not, the blood on his face was a little itchy and he wanted to clean up the wound. It would scar. But it was worth it, so so worth it.
.
Thing was, he knew that the creature was guarding more than just its treasure hoard. That was why he had come, and he had to move quickly. The sounds of the fight were quieter as he moved into the tunnel but still clearly audible from a distance. Which meant his prey was aware that someone was here. From the accounts he’d heard, this tunnel led deeper into the mountain but there was no route to the outside. His prey was cornered.
The only downside was that Cam couldn’t be here with him, he knew she’d get a kick out of this. She’d probably have written an epic song about it too. He’d have all the juicy details to share when he got back though. His footsteps were silent, his eyes alert in the darkness, checking every shadow even as he became one with them. He was on the hunt, but the one he hunted was skilled. A fellow Crow, a fellow runaway Crow at that, one that had made little secret of his location of late. Difference was, Zevran Aranai had no intention of going back to the Crows. Alonzo did.
There he was. Alonzo smirked to himself, pausing to watch the frantic activity as the blonde elf packed his things. He travelled light, which was wise. Alonzo took great pleasure in ‘accidentally’ stepping on a rat skeleton near his feet, making a pleasant crunching sound as the bones turned to dust. The change in the other elf was instant, he became tense, alert and cautious. A slight shift in grip on a dagger, and he turned.
It was testament to Alonzo’s skill that he was not spotted right away. He could see Zevran’s amber eyes searching for the source of the noise. A second glance gave it away and Alonzo moved out from the shadows.
“How long did you think you could run for?” he drawled, enjoying the spark of recognition in Zevran’s eyes. He pulled his hood down, revealing his distinctive features, so there could be no doubt.
“Not long enough, it seems,” Zevran replied, keeping his stance casual. “How long did you think you could play dead, Alonzo.”
“Oh, just long enough to do what needs to be done,” Alonzo replied with a flippant wave of his dagger. “The Crows will learn of my survival... and those who live will not forget my return to Antiva. A shame you won’t be there to see it.”
“You speak like you’ve been away for years,” Zevran observed, playing the game. His escape was blocked, and he had little choice but to join in the game until he figured out the rules.
“I know, it’s not been so long,” Alonzo said with a shrug of his shoulders. “See, things have to change. The Crows are no longer feared as we once were. There are people who think they can compete, can do it better. I was sent to break Damian Vega from prison... he’s become weaker.”
“Oh? So you think you can change things?”
Alonzo grinned. “I know I can. I should have done it years ago. More heads will roll, Zevran, but you’re lucky enough to be the first.”
“Ah, lucky me. So... this is it?”
“Looks like," Alonzo replied, taking a step closer. He was going to enjoy every minute of this. It looked like Zevran was ready for a fight too. Wonderful.
The fight was going to be brutal, and neither assassin saw fit to waste any more time on playful banter. Alonzo’s first move was indeed a rather bold one, a powerful strike which connected with a clang against the blade Zevran brought up to defend himself. The blows were traded lightning fast, parried equally quickly. Truly there was not much in it; they were well matched in terms of skill, speed, dexterity.
Neither elf wanted to be the first one to slip up, they both knew full well that one slip could mean certain death. This was no longer a game of cat and mouse, this was the fight that only one would walk away from. A common belief is that the first to bleed is the first to die.
Alonzo knew this wasn’t necessarily true, and even as he felt the cold steel slice deep into his skin, catching him right below his right eye, he had his now empty hand wrapped around Zevran’s throat, the other hand grabbing the blond elf’s wrist, squeezing until he felt the bones crack and the fancy dagger fell to the ground with a clatter. He grinned, blue eyes lit with lust for the fight, the expression made all the more animalistic by the bloody wound on his face.
“You didn’t think I’d make it that easy for you, did you?” Alonzo asked, shoving backwards until Zevran’s head cracked against the cold stone wall. “You should know better, Zevran.”
The distant sounds of the battle in the larger cavern echoed in the silence that followed. Zevran knew the game was up. He said nothing, there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t give Alonzo some kind of satisfaction. He knew he was in for a painful death, resigned to it.
It was easy for Alonzo to lose himself in the moment, he’d gone to great pains to prepare for this moment, considering he had lost all of his equipment in Ferelden. Zevran proved quite a match for his techniques of torture too, which was fun, to test how much it would take to break him. Needless to say, by the time he was done, Zevran was ready to die. Zevran, a fellow Crow... deserved a clean death after all that. It was the way it was done.
“You did well,” Alonzo said, pulling the thin, sharp blade out of his boot. This one was spotless, and impossibly sharp. “I’m honestly impressed.”
A weak laugh came from the other elf. “Good to know,” his voice was weak now, “You haven’t lost your touch...”
Alonzo smirked, raising an eyebrow. “No, I’ve still got it. Goodbye, Zevran.” He slid the sharp blade between Zevran’s ribs, never failing to miss the heart. Alonzo watched the light fade from his eyes, feeling that warm satisfaction one can usually only get from a very good brandy, or a good fuck. He had done it, like he’d always promised he would. A moment to reflect on this historic moment, then he was ready to move on with the next part of his plan. Unfortunately the equipment needed to break bones was too much for him to carry. Luckily, this wasn’t the first time Alonzo had decapitated a corpse with just a dagger. Didn’t seem right to taint the longsword...
“Ah...” he sighed with satisfaction as the blade found that spot where he could disarticulate the neck bones. A few more cuts and he had the head. A burlap sack, it’s temporary home... once back in Kirkwall he would be able to purchase a large jar of honey to preserve this item long enough to send it to Antiva. The head of the traitor. He could afford the honey.
He cleaned and sheathed his blades, picking over the supplies Zevran had left. The dead Crow had no need for them now. The sword, Vigilance, and the dagger, Finesse. Lovely weapons, and a worthwhile prize to keep for himself. A few other useful items, and he was ready to go, making sure to take the head with him. The corpse was left for the spiders, barely recognisable as elvhen, let alone as Zevran. He followed the path back to the main cavern, wondering how the mercs were getting on, and if they’d try to kill him. He hoped not, the blood on his face was a little itchy and he wanted to clean up the wound. It would scar. But it was worth it, so so worth it.
.
Password: Divine
