App to Paradisia
NAME: Sage
JOURNAL: curiouslyhigh
EMAIL: Curiously High At G Mail Dot Com
AIM: A1000Cuts
WIKI NAME: N/A
CHARACTERS: N/A
(Note: I used this writing sample for app to Eway, 5.31.2012)
CHARACTER NAME: Nicholas D. Wolfwood
FANDOM: Trigun
CANON: He done did died.
WHAT THEY LOST: May I tell you how damn hard it was for me to pick something suitable wangstful for him? Because it was. He has lost all his memory of direct interaction with Vash and the insurance girls. He remembers that he followed them, that he had a mission, what that mission was, but not of Vash himself, nor of Millie or Meryl. As a result, he doesn't have any of the knowledge or wisdom he took out of his experiences with these three people. When trying to recall it, it all kind of blurs together into a summation of what happened, but not what was said, or what was specifically done.
ABOUT THE CHARACTER: Nicholas D. Wolfwood always had a few issues. His parents died when he was very young, and the man he was raised by for a few years was extremely abusive. So abusive, in fact, that at the age of eight years old, a troubled Nicholas took up the man's own gun and shot him to death. As a result, he was sent to an orphanage maintained by the church in December town. His new guardian was no less abusive, but in a far more psychological way than physical. He trained the young boy on how to effectively and efficiently use firearms, while drilling into young Nicholas' mind the word of God. The combination made for a God-fearing young gunslinger who, unbeknown to himself, was fairly brainwashed into believing that killing the wicked and unrighteous was just and good.
He grew up in the orphanage as one of the elder kids, who often took care of the younger children, and wound up becoming much like a big brother, and soon, not unlike a father to the other orphans around him. His benefactor and guardian, Chapel, was often away to gain money for the orphanage, so he ran the home himself, providing for the kids by cooking, sewing, cleaning, and teaching them to read, write, and how to get along in a dreary society.
And then, a man came to the orphanage. Legato Bluesummers - a man who had tertiary connections to Nicholas' benefactor - blackmailed Nicholas into going out and doing a little job for him. If Nicholas could kill Vash the Stampede, the orphans in the December Church would live. If Nicholas could not abide, all the kids that he raised would find themselves at a miserable end. So, being that Nicholas had no other choice but to seek out the infamous gunman, he struck out into the world.
Nicholas is a jaded, sarcastic man in his mid to late 20s. He smokes, he drinks, he flirts, and he's generally what someone would assume to be just about the WORST priest ever. But under all that gruff and sardonic exterior, Wolfwood has a good heart and a wise mind. He only wants to see people happy, and he goes out of his way to lend a helping hand when and where he can. He loves humanity, and would go to any lengths to protect children and other innocent lives. While he might seem quick to anger, he's also quick to cool down. He's got a good sense of humor, and a sharp wit.
Nicholas, while being a man of the cloth, is of questionable morals. He will take jobs doing what he can to pay his travel and lodging expenses, while still sending money to the orphanage. He has taken up roles as both bodyguard and mercenary, and finds that the jobs given to him in those positions are somewhat more fulfilling to him than ones of ministering and charity worker. At least, they pay better, and have a better chance of excitement, for which Nicholas lives.
His bitter attitude is justified through what he's seen in his life. He has been through many awful situations, seen people die for no just cause, and has heard time and again about the hardships that the men and women of his world go through. It has made him jaded, pessimistic, and generally discontented with the way things are. He would do anything to not have it be that way, if he knew a better way, but he can see no other course for the world than the one that it found itself in.
THIRD-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE:
"Stupid thing! WORK, DAMN YOU!" Nicholas growled as he tried to start the engine of his motorcycle. He had been tinkering with it for three hours and the thing still refused to go. He'd checked everything. Oil was good, the gas tank was full, all the wires were hooked up and in working order, the spark plug was just fine.
"So why won't you just RUN?" He yelled as he jumped off the bike and kicked it in the tire. "Fucking piece of crap! We're a hundred isles from NOWHERE, and you do this on me?" He slumped down onto the sand and leaned back against the bike. He ran through the checklist in his mind for the fourteenth time. Gas, oil, spark plugs, wires, fuel line, ignition... Exhaust. His eyes went wide as he scrambled in the sand towards the exhaust pipe of his bike, and looked it over. He even looked inside it, and there, just at the curve of the pipe, he saw something.
"Oh baby, I'm so sorry!" He apologized to his bike as he hugged its seat, "If I knew you were having breathing problems, I never would've yelled at you!" He quickly opened the saddlebag of the bike and started pulling out tools. The suns were getting high in the sky, and he knew that he only had an hour left before things really started heating up, and he only had a little water left to drink. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it over the seat of his bike before getting to work on disassembling the exhaust line. It was bogged down with sand and gunk that often caused deep and troublesome problems on most bikes. He fastidiously cleaned each piece, lining them up on the ground before him, before he was satisfied, and then set back to piecing his baby back together.
"Okay, honey, you better be good to me this time, or I'll have to leave you out here and start beatin' feet," he murmured to the bike as he pulled his jacket back on. He straddled the seat, gave her a little gas and flipped the ignition. With a content and distinctly familiar rumble, Nicholas' bike started up. "PRAISE THE LORD!" Nicholas exclaimed in joy and kicked the kickstand up. They were back on their way to Stantal City.
FIRST-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE: I don't know what I'm doing anymore. It feels like I'm drifting in this vast, empty space where nothing can touch me. Isolated, broken away from reality. To some, it may be peaceful, but after as long as I've been on the road, as long as I've been doing all I can to do... all that I can? It's like my own version of hell. No other people are around me, There's nothing to see. I feel claustrophobic. Not even God can hear me here.
God, how I hate sleeping out in the desert alone. It's like being reminded that I'm insignificant. That I really am nothing but a grain of sand.
INTENT: Well, I haven't played Nick for a long-ass time, but I've BEEN playing him on-and-off for about a decade now. Legato's mun suggested I should app, so here I am! I really hope to enjoy it here. I think that he'll be overwhelmed at first, but get down to the dirt really quickly.
JOURNAL: curiouslyhigh
EMAIL: Curiously High At G Mail Dot Com
AIM: A1000Cuts
WIKI NAME: N/A
CHARACTERS: N/A
(Note: I used this writing sample for app to Eway, 5.31.2012)
CHARACTER NAME: Nicholas D. Wolfwood
FANDOM: Trigun
CANON: He done did died.
WHAT THEY LOST: May I tell you how damn hard it was for me to pick something suitable wangstful for him? Because it was. He has lost all his memory of direct interaction with Vash and the insurance girls. He remembers that he followed them, that he had a mission, what that mission was, but not of Vash himself, nor of Millie or Meryl. As a result, he doesn't have any of the knowledge or wisdom he took out of his experiences with these three people. When trying to recall it, it all kind of blurs together into a summation of what happened, but not what was said, or what was specifically done.
ABOUT THE CHARACTER: Nicholas D. Wolfwood always had a few issues. His parents died when he was very young, and the man he was raised by for a few years was extremely abusive. So abusive, in fact, that at the age of eight years old, a troubled Nicholas took up the man's own gun and shot him to death. As a result, he was sent to an orphanage maintained by the church in December town. His new guardian was no less abusive, but in a far more psychological way than physical. He trained the young boy on how to effectively and efficiently use firearms, while drilling into young Nicholas' mind the word of God. The combination made for a God-fearing young gunslinger who, unbeknown to himself, was fairly brainwashed into believing that killing the wicked and unrighteous was just and good.
He grew up in the orphanage as one of the elder kids, who often took care of the younger children, and wound up becoming much like a big brother, and soon, not unlike a father to the other orphans around him. His benefactor and guardian, Chapel, was often away to gain money for the orphanage, so he ran the home himself, providing for the kids by cooking, sewing, cleaning, and teaching them to read, write, and how to get along in a dreary society.
And then, a man came to the orphanage. Legato Bluesummers - a man who had tertiary connections to Nicholas' benefactor - blackmailed Nicholas into going out and doing a little job for him. If Nicholas could kill Vash the Stampede, the orphans in the December Church would live. If Nicholas could not abide, all the kids that he raised would find themselves at a miserable end. So, being that Nicholas had no other choice but to seek out the infamous gunman, he struck out into the world.
Nicholas is a jaded, sarcastic man in his mid to late 20s. He smokes, he drinks, he flirts, and he's generally what someone would assume to be just about the WORST priest ever. But under all that gruff and sardonic exterior, Wolfwood has a good heart and a wise mind. He only wants to see people happy, and he goes out of his way to lend a helping hand when and where he can. He loves humanity, and would go to any lengths to protect children and other innocent lives. While he might seem quick to anger, he's also quick to cool down. He's got a good sense of humor, and a sharp wit.
Nicholas, while being a man of the cloth, is of questionable morals. He will take jobs doing what he can to pay his travel and lodging expenses, while still sending money to the orphanage. He has taken up roles as both bodyguard and mercenary, and finds that the jobs given to him in those positions are somewhat more fulfilling to him than ones of ministering and charity worker. At least, they pay better, and have a better chance of excitement, for which Nicholas lives.
His bitter attitude is justified through what he's seen in his life. He has been through many awful situations, seen people die for no just cause, and has heard time and again about the hardships that the men and women of his world go through. It has made him jaded, pessimistic, and generally discontented with the way things are. He would do anything to not have it be that way, if he knew a better way, but he can see no other course for the world than the one that it found itself in.
THIRD-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE:
"Stupid thing! WORK, DAMN YOU!" Nicholas growled as he tried to start the engine of his motorcycle. He had been tinkering with it for three hours and the thing still refused to go. He'd checked everything. Oil was good, the gas tank was full, all the wires were hooked up and in working order, the spark plug was just fine.
"So why won't you just RUN?" He yelled as he jumped off the bike and kicked it in the tire. "Fucking piece of crap! We're a hundred isles from NOWHERE, and you do this on me?" He slumped down onto the sand and leaned back against the bike. He ran through the checklist in his mind for the fourteenth time. Gas, oil, spark plugs, wires, fuel line, ignition... Exhaust. His eyes went wide as he scrambled in the sand towards the exhaust pipe of his bike, and looked it over. He even looked inside it, and there, just at the curve of the pipe, he saw something.
"Oh baby, I'm so sorry!" He apologized to his bike as he hugged its seat, "If I knew you were having breathing problems, I never would've yelled at you!" He quickly opened the saddlebag of the bike and started pulling out tools. The suns were getting high in the sky, and he knew that he only had an hour left before things really started heating up, and he only had a little water left to drink. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it over the seat of his bike before getting to work on disassembling the exhaust line. It was bogged down with sand and gunk that often caused deep and troublesome problems on most bikes. He fastidiously cleaned each piece, lining them up on the ground before him, before he was satisfied, and then set back to piecing his baby back together.
"Okay, honey, you better be good to me this time, or I'll have to leave you out here and start beatin' feet," he murmured to the bike as he pulled his jacket back on. He straddled the seat, gave her a little gas and flipped the ignition. With a content and distinctly familiar rumble, Nicholas' bike started up. "PRAISE THE LORD!" Nicholas exclaimed in joy and kicked the kickstand up. They were back on their way to Stantal City.
FIRST-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE: I don't know what I'm doing anymore. It feels like I'm drifting in this vast, empty space where nothing can touch me. Isolated, broken away from reality. To some, it may be peaceful, but after as long as I've been on the road, as long as I've been doing all I can to do... all that I can? It's like my own version of hell. No other people are around me, There's nothing to see. I feel claustrophobic. Not even God can hear me here.
God, how I hate sleeping out in the desert alone. It's like being reminded that I'm insignificant. That I really am nothing but a grain of sand.
INTENT: Well, I haven't played Nick for a long-ass time, but I've BEEN playing him on-and-off for about a decade now. Legato's mun suggested I should app, so here I am! I really hope to enjoy it here. I think that he'll be overwhelmed at first, but get down to the dirt really quickly.