Post by Olive Quentin on Feb 16, 2013 12:06:31 GMT -5
Player Title: Magda.
Full Birth Name: Olive Quentin.
Alias/ nickname: Ol.
Race: Human.
Gender: Female.
Age: Nineteen.
Physical Appearance:
Olive is usually recognised by her mane of wild, curly hair. It is thick and springy and when pulled taught reaches her mid-back, but when curly goes just past her shoulders. She usually pulls it up into a rough ponytail.
Olive is brown-skinned and dark-eyed, her irises a shade of brown so dark, her irises appear black, and are damn near indistinguishable from her pupils. Though, if a light happens to shine against her eyes, they glow a more bronze-ish shade. She has a smooth complexion, large eyes and full lips, and her facial structure is nothing hideous either. Her forehead is quite high, with high cheekbones and a slightly curved nose.
She has no real defining features.Her body merely bears the marks from two decades worth of wear and tear. Sure, a few burns and scrapes here and there, a few cuts on her hands from preparing meat, a couple of stretch marks on her hips from adolescent growth spurts, but doesn't everybody have them?
Olive is built with slim and ectomorphic frame that holds more muscle than curve. When nearly every woman has some complaint or other about their body, Olive claims she looks boyish, but it is merely athletic. Olive also has a fondness for clothing that doesn't belong to her. Ninety per cent of her wardrobe is filled with stolen men's clothing, stuff that's purposely big and baggy on her, stuff that she certainly won't get confused for a prostitute in. The other ten per cent are hand-me-downs from her older brother. For some reason she doesn't wear women's clothing a whole lot, apart from underwear. On her feet she wears boots or trainers generally. She has a pair she usually wears which are muddy, scuffed, and the uppers are peeling away from the soles. She'll wear just about anything that she can run in or doesn't give her blisters. Heels are a no-no.
Personality Traits:
Olive has never been anything special. She has no particular talent, and she excels at nothing great. She's not fast, or strong, or agile. She has no stamina. She's not flexible, or exceedingly smart. She's not religious. She can’t spit long distances. She can’t hold her liquor. She can’t read people. She can’t play an instrument. She fails at close combat. She considers herself neither spontaneous nor careful. She can’t tell jokes, she can’t dance, and she can’t play sport. She can’t speak another language. She's not a leader, and she's not an obedient subordinate. She's not the prettiest flower of the bouquet, and she has no real friends.
Olive cannot be described as many things, but what she does you can bet her bottom dollar she does well. She’s a no-nonsense kinda girl that doesn't take crap from anyone. She’s the kind of girl who says what has to be said and does what has to be done, with no concerns for getting her hands dirty just to get things done.
While lacking in charismatic appeal and almost never the leader of a group, Olive has certain strength to her personality and fire to her charm that lets people know that she will be there to get the job done, no matter how much audacity it takes to get there, and she has an outlook on life that is slightly cynical but overall down-to-earth and level-headed.
Now, Olive has never been never acclaimed for her academic worth. Even in her childhood, Ol was able to recognise that if a knife was pulled on you, knowledge of the periodic table was not gonna help in the slightest. No, Olive instead educated herself in things that did matter, and things that interested her. She is a proficient mechanic, and can fix almost any engine, or even radio or technical object that plays up. She is more handy with a screwdriver than she is with a knife. She also knows basic first aid, but tends to lose her head in times when it is necessary.
Weaponry:
Olive picked up how to use a bow when she moved away from Medicine Lake, and although she's not an expert yet she can land a few decent shots before her arms feel the strain and her aim starts to shake. She only picked up the bow in the first place because long distance fighting is the only way she'd stand a chance. And, because knives are so useful, and sometimes plentiful, she carries a medium-sized Bowie knife with a horn handle in a leather sheath, but doesn't really know how to use it other than for whittling and cutting rope.
Extras:
None.
History Summary:
Olive Quentin was born in 2021, in Medicine Lake, Montana. Population: 250. None of them were Vampires. None of them were Werewolves. And you can sure as hell bet that not a single one was an Angel.
Medicine Lake was the kind of town where the 80s didn't hit until 1995. News travelled slowly before the invention of the internet, and a whole lot slower after it.
Vampires and Werewolves came into common knowledge in 2010, and Olive was four when the first rifts opened up, but none of the rifts were anywhere near her tiny town near the Canadian border, and nobody in her town knew much about Immortals nor took too kindly to news of “those kind” passing by. Therefore, Olive lived her childhood somewhat oblivious to the goings on of otherworldly creatures and their Immortal enemies far off east in New York. She instead grew up learning how to fish, and sticking her head under the hood of her dad’s car. Things up there continued on pretty much how they had always done. The world had collapsed around them, and their town didn't seem to notice or really even care.
Olive was nine when the assault on Namaesti went ahead, and she had just turned ten (because word didn't travel too fast those days) when they heard about it back home. A new currency had been set up, they said. Vampires were freed from slavery, they said. The residents of Medicine Lake looked at their dollars and cents which they had been using happily for many years and asked, what new currency, did we need a new one? What slavery? Olive, aged ten, and very behind on the times, asked, “what Angels?” For little did she know that nearly two thousand miles away, the Humans, Werewolves, and Vampires had been fighting a continuous fight for months, while she and her dad sat on a fishing boat and caught pike.
When Miles, her older brother, was eighteen, he cast his gaze beyond Medicine Lake and wished to look for work beyond the provincial borders of their tiny, tiny town. Olive, fifteen at the time, begged to go with him, and although Miles agreed quickly, it took three more weeks of pleading to get them to agree. And so, that autumn, armed with pots and pans and dried beef jerky and the world’s supply of Spam, they set off from the tiny settlement of Medicine Lake, population: 248.
That winter they crossed the border from Montana to North Dakota, moving slowly from place to place. Her brother offered to set up radio towers and good plumbing in return for provisions and shelter wherever they stayed at, and Olive learned from him as he worked. She didn’t read much, but she was fascinated by history books of Werewolves and Vampires, of which she had not yet met. And everywhere they went, they heard tales of the vicious Angels who crossed the border into their world years ago.
By the time Olive was eighteen they bought a small boat and sailed across Lake Eyrie. It wasn’t long before they bumped against the shores of New York, and so they began their journey to the Big Apple they had heard so much about. At Stony Point, however, Miles agreed to spend more time with the people there, to help them rebuilt old radio towers and create irrigation systems. Olive, antsy to see the big city, continued on alone.