Post by silmarilknight on Mar 18, 2008 14:22:57 GMT -5
About You
Name: Oliver
Age: 16
RP experience: Nearly 10 months
RP sample{at least 5 sentences}:
I will not be making posts this long ALL THE TIME. My average RP post tends to be 200 words, 300 to start a thread.
Cling! Clang! The sounds of metal swords made of spring steel echoed throughout the cove and the beach. Cling Cling Clang. They rang out again. Then there was the awful sound of one blade scraping down another. To any listener’s ear, it would sound as if two noble fencers were battling against each other in a fair fight, but sight would turn audio into a lying knave, as one’s eyes would reveal the truth.
Pirate boots dung into the sand, covered with barnacles and other remnants of the sea, the sand which it dung into flew over the tops of the suede brown leather, worn from use. Many of these boots slide about in the sand, accompanying each other in their deadly ballet. Two boots of smooth, polished black leather sought for support in the sand, but they were seeking alliance with an undecided and unloyal allay. Two silver spurs glinted in the sunlight; they were attached to the backs of the smooth black leather boots, which whirled around lightly on the sand, despite the material being extremely incorporative with the boots.
As the observer’s gaze was to move up the fast-moving boots, they would behold five men, four of them wearing the brown suede boots, and one lone youth sporting the horseman’s attire and wielding a spring steel Gaelic Claymore, his blade slicing through the air so fast it was only visible to the naked eye in the form of a silver blur.
The youth who wielded it was clad simply in sable and scarlet, ebony breeches were under his tall black boots with the spurs and a white shirt with long sleeves was on his chest. There was scant embroidery on the cuffs, as the minor detail, but a minor detail of one of royal blood. Over his white shirt he wore a dark brown leather vest, which had a tickle of blood spilling down the front, staining the color to a dark, depressing maroon. Around his vest, he wore a slender black leather belt, worn and well used. His white shirt was collared and the stiff lapels had been dampened and made limp by his sweat and blood.
His face was handsome and finely-chiseled by its sculptor. Nothing marred it except a small white scare above his eyebrow which was barely visible. Streaks of dirt, sweat, and blood ran down it, giving its skin a dark, filthy look. His teeth were not bright white, but of a cream hue, a fault to his fine appearance, but they were barred in anger, as a tiger’s would be barred, just as if the tiger was about to tear his prey to bits. He was a slender youth, no taller then five feet and six inches, and he looked to weight in the neighborhood of about one hundred and twenty pounds. His name was Peregrine Alexander, King of Numell and prince of Scotland.
The four pirates all had their blades drawn against the young king, three against one. Yet luckily for Peregrine, it was a fair match. Fighting back valiantly, he was able to keep all three pirates at bay. One was dressed in yellow and black and had a long messy beard and hair of the color of mustard; he had the appearance of a hornet. His eyes were large and luminous, but his nose was small and shriveled and his chest and legs were enormous in size in comparison to his skinny, pinched waist.
The second pirate was large man who was beardless but huge in size. Huge hands wielded a cutlass larger then any broadsword. His face could be likened to that of a giant. The features so large they looked blurry and distorted. And his feet seemed to cause miniscule earthquakes on the ground. He seemed to be standing at eight feet tall, perhaps he weighed three hundred pounds. However big he was, he looked as if he was a formidable enemy.
The third man was smaller then the rest, almost Peregrine’s size. He had a small black mustache and beard, trimmed with the care of an Englishman. His eyes were dark and beady, and his features sharply carved, his expressions harsh. His body was small, light and fast, and his cutlass was a sharp as a razor straight from the wet stone. These three were all converged on Peregrine.
There was a clatter as the cutlass of the wasp pirate flew from his hand as Peregrine’s sword, Revenger, emerged victorious from the scene. Instantly, the giant swung a blow at him, which Peregrine avoided, swinging out of the way like some nimble monkey or sprightly pixie, but it was right into the welcoming blade of small man, which cut him along his cheek. For a moment the injured area merely became red, but then blood seeped from the wound. In a rage, Peregrine engaged Revenger with the blade of the pirate, who, with a grin, exerted pressure on his own sword, more then happy to engage in this duel of death. The next thing Peregrine heard was the whistle of metal coming through the air and he jumped out of the way just in time as giant pirate’s sword swung at him again. He turned back to the small pirate and gave him three hard, strong blows, driving him back. He repeated his actions, enjoying his superior skill until the man was backed up against a pine tree nearly defenseless. He was barely able to move his sword, and the whites of his eyes were showing in fear. Peregrine had raised the pommel of his sword in order to knock the man unconscious when he felt another body slam into him. The breathe was knocked from his body as the wasp pirate knocked him to the ground.
Peregrine scrambled to the best angle he could, before he was forced to raise his weapon and defend himself. Whack! Clang! Clang! The echoing sound of metal being slammed upon metal rang out again. Peregrine’s muscles ached, and his opponent was at a better angle to kill him then he was to kill the pirate. Besides, giant pirate and small pirate both were raising their swords to kill him. He knew pirates followed no chivalrous code. The words “play fair” weren’t even in a pirate’s vocabulary. Cheating was not even allowed, it was expected and encouraged.
In a desperate gamble, Peregrine jammed his blade under his body and rolled over, knowing that at any second he could feel the cold metal piercing through his flesh. He would have shuddered at that thought, but he did not, he couldn’t even spare the time. But at the end of his swift roll over, he emerged unscathed, raising Revenger again to duel with the pirates. He stuck blows and parried a few blows with each of them. Then, all of a sudden, one gave a yell and ran from the spot, the others following him, sprinting away.
“FILTHY COWARDS!!” Peregrine roared. Raising Revenger high above his dark-haired head, he persuaded them across the sandy beach and through the tropical garden they led him through, knocking over baskets, bowls, and trampling plants as they went, with Peregrine in their wake, being just as careless.
There was silence. Not letting down his guard or his weapon, Peregrine surveyed his surrounding suspiciously. He had no inkling to where they could be as they had seemingly vanished into thin air. Then a rough curse gave them away. All three outlaws were standing upon a rooftop.
“COWARDS!” Peregrine yelled again. And without wasting another moment, he shot up the ladder leading to the rooftop and smiled, looking at them, his sword at the ready. The small pirate smiled back evilly, before dropping a lighted match on the thatched roof. Immediately the straw went up in flames just as the smile was wiped off Peregrine’s face. The pirates climbed down a ladder on the opposite side of the hut, knocking it down before Peregrine had a chance to follow them, and now he was trapped. One ladder the pirates had knocked down and the other was separated from him by the fast-advancing flames which too high to jump.
Bereft of all other options, Peregrine put his two front fingers into his mouth and blew as a high piercing sound was emitted. Moments later, the sound of galloping hooves was heard. Mighty, powerful hooves and aloud, challenging nigh, the battle cry of a war horse. Vollo had arrived.
Peregrine jumped as Vollo ran under the burning structure. And Vollo galloped back across the garden and beach, after the retreating pirates once more, with Peregrine astride him. Horse and rider made a mighty team, one which was not easily beaten.
Stopping of the sand, Vollo slid and then reared up, pawing the air and whinnying in challenge while Peregrine yelled and waved his sword around as the pirates stopped to look at them in renewed terror to see their enemy mounted upon a powerful steed. Suddenly, Peregrine felt a sharp pain in his shoulder and turned to see an arrow sticking from his shoulder. At once he felt drugged and sluggish, as if an intoxicating scent was being forced up his nose. Then he swayed in the saddle and fell, everything went black before he hit the ground.
Instantly, the pirates rushed forward upon seeing the fall of their enemy, but they had not taken an important detail into account. Vollo. When Peregrine had fallen, Vollo began to come back to earth, but before his front hooves had touched the ground, the wasp pirate ran under the belly of the great horse, and as he passed under Vollo’s hooves, one of them struck the pirate in the head. The wasp man fell dead to the ground, struck in the head by Vollo’s silver-shod hoof. The other two men froze in their paths leading toward Peregrine. Then he scampered over to their fallen comrade, lifted him between them, and literarily ran to the sea, bearing him with them.
There was silence as the youth lay upon the ground, wounded in the shoulder. His steed turned to him and sniffed his body, confused and bewildered to why his master had not leapt to his feet and commenced with waving his sword around by now. Then suddenly lightning split the sky and thunder rolled in the heavens. Rain poured down in torrents and something great in the sea rose up. It was a monster, with a long neck and a fish-like body. But its eyes were kind, a deep calming blue in comparison to its sharp rows of teeth. Down a little ways, the body was large and well developed, four marine fins propelling it along. The storm continued to unleash its fury upon the inhabitants before it as the monster bent its head under its nose touched Peregrine’s chest.
Vollo, though he had been unusually brave for any horse up to this point, couldn’t take it any more. The monster terrified him. He left out a horse’s terrified scream and bolted across the other side of the island, leaving his master alone with the monster.
Then the monster opened its jaws wide and put the human between them, not to eat, but gently, as if it was a lioness transporting her cubs. Then she raised her head and swam out to sea, bearing the injured human with her….
* * *
Peregrine felt water sloshing against his skin, vaguely his clothes were swirling around him and he was lying on something soft and flexible. He didn’t feel like moving from his comfortable position though, he would rather just lie asleep. There, wherever he was.
He was lying on the shore of a beach, the arrow still sticking out from his shoulder and the blood still all over his face. And still Vollo was nowhere to be seen. Before he lay the desolate ruins of what had once been a great city, but it was now ransacked and plundered by pirates, its former beauty in tatters…
Do you need help with getting started? No, the site is pretty well organized.
Your Character
Name: Cronos Alexander Lynx
Age: 16
Birthday: January 4th, 1992
Gender: Male
Grade: 10
Place of Birth: California
Parents: Pericles Lynx (Father) and Persephone Lynx (Mother)
Siblings: Athena Lynx (Younger sister)
Other: Not that I can think of at the moment.
Appearance:
1. His blonde hair is quite messy and often all the place. In color, it is not bright blonde and shocking, but a rather toned-down dirty blonde.
2. He has piercing blue eyes which make you feel as if you are being x-rayed when he looks at you, or rather that your mind is being examined.
3. He's very slightly built, with a definate scrawny-ness to his structure. He stands at a considerably tall 5'10", but he only weighs 140 pounds.
4. He's skin is a permanent tan.
{Celeb}Picture:
Alex Pettyfer
Likes:
1. Horses
2. Intelligence
3. Girls
4. Winning
5. Archery
6. Fencing.
7. Fooling around
8. Magic
9. Showing off
Dislikes:
1. Losing
2. Mathematics
3. Girls who don't think he's cool
4.Being talked about behind his back.
5. Snakes
6. Not knowing something.
7. Rival know-it-alls.
Talents:
1. He's an accomplished equestrian, fencer, and archer
2. He can speak English as his first language and Italian as his second.
Strengths:
1. Horses
2. Talking to girls
3. Fencing
4. Archery
5. Magic
6. Writing
7. Getting up at insanely early hours
8. Singing
Weaknesses:
For all his impressive and relaxed demenor, he's a first class ctulz. He trips over eveything in sight unless he's on the back of a horse, but he makes light of it and turns it into 'class clownism'.
Also, he has little pacience for things he doesn't enoy doing and can be dark a moody at times. He doesn't take grief well and although he is not a sore loser, he doesn't like failure.
Let me also add that he is your typical teenage rebel. He will go out of his way to annoy the adults. Therefore, he can be difficult to talk to on occasion and he can be incredible rude when he wants to be.
Power(s): He can manipulate thunder/lightning. He can create a storm, but he can't stop a real one. He also has the ability to fly for short amounts of time, however he is still mastering this skill and it is not as strong as his storm power.
Life goals/ Ambitions:
To become powerful in both magic and his hobbies and to become the coolest person whever he may be.
Other{fav/worst memories, habits, fears, regrets, etc.}:
1. Favorite memory: His favorite memory has to be the first time he rode a horse at age two.
2. Worst memory: When his best friend was killed in a car accident and he had his leg broken in a car accident.
3. Habits: uhh, could I see what I can pull out as the character develops?
4. Fears: Being wounded or crippled for life, loosing his good looks, death.
5. Regrets: The thing he regrets most is when he was 10 years old he could have attended a high-quality academy for the gifted, but he passed the chance up, therefore he was forever regretted that decision.
History:
Warning: I don't put a lot of effort into histories, but...
Cronos was born with seemingly no special powers and it was assumed he was a normal kid until the age of ten when he and his sister, Athena, were on the roof and were playing truth or dare, something the young Cronos had heard being played at school and was aching to try out of his little sister. So far, it wasn't working well and he was dared to catch rain drops on his tongue by the 7-year-old. He responded that he couldn't because there wasn't any rain to which Athena responded, 'Well make one.' and amazingly, that was just what Cronos did.
He was immediately sent a letter from a prestegious Academy for the Gifted, but the boy turned the application down, telling everyone he was not going to live high-posh dorms and the messengers left in a huff. Several years later, when Cronos discovered his ability to fly on a camping trip in the mountains, he regretted that choice. In his Freshman year, he was accepted to Valora Academy and has been reeking havoc on the teachers there ever since...
Did you read the rules? Snapple.
Name: Oliver
Age: 16
RP experience: Nearly 10 months
RP sample{at least 5 sentences}:
I will not be making posts this long ALL THE TIME. My average RP post tends to be 200 words, 300 to start a thread.
Cling! Clang! The sounds of metal swords made of spring steel echoed throughout the cove and the beach. Cling Cling Clang. They rang out again. Then there was the awful sound of one blade scraping down another. To any listener’s ear, it would sound as if two noble fencers were battling against each other in a fair fight, but sight would turn audio into a lying knave, as one’s eyes would reveal the truth.
Pirate boots dung into the sand, covered with barnacles and other remnants of the sea, the sand which it dung into flew over the tops of the suede brown leather, worn from use. Many of these boots slide about in the sand, accompanying each other in their deadly ballet. Two boots of smooth, polished black leather sought for support in the sand, but they were seeking alliance with an undecided and unloyal allay. Two silver spurs glinted in the sunlight; they were attached to the backs of the smooth black leather boots, which whirled around lightly on the sand, despite the material being extremely incorporative with the boots.
As the observer’s gaze was to move up the fast-moving boots, they would behold five men, four of them wearing the brown suede boots, and one lone youth sporting the horseman’s attire and wielding a spring steel Gaelic Claymore, his blade slicing through the air so fast it was only visible to the naked eye in the form of a silver blur.
The youth who wielded it was clad simply in sable and scarlet, ebony breeches were under his tall black boots with the spurs and a white shirt with long sleeves was on his chest. There was scant embroidery on the cuffs, as the minor detail, but a minor detail of one of royal blood. Over his white shirt he wore a dark brown leather vest, which had a tickle of blood spilling down the front, staining the color to a dark, depressing maroon. Around his vest, he wore a slender black leather belt, worn and well used. His white shirt was collared and the stiff lapels had been dampened and made limp by his sweat and blood.
His face was handsome and finely-chiseled by its sculptor. Nothing marred it except a small white scare above his eyebrow which was barely visible. Streaks of dirt, sweat, and blood ran down it, giving its skin a dark, filthy look. His teeth were not bright white, but of a cream hue, a fault to his fine appearance, but they were barred in anger, as a tiger’s would be barred, just as if the tiger was about to tear his prey to bits. He was a slender youth, no taller then five feet and six inches, and he looked to weight in the neighborhood of about one hundred and twenty pounds. His name was Peregrine Alexander, King of Numell and prince of Scotland.
The four pirates all had their blades drawn against the young king, three against one. Yet luckily for Peregrine, it was a fair match. Fighting back valiantly, he was able to keep all three pirates at bay. One was dressed in yellow and black and had a long messy beard and hair of the color of mustard; he had the appearance of a hornet. His eyes were large and luminous, but his nose was small and shriveled and his chest and legs were enormous in size in comparison to his skinny, pinched waist.
The second pirate was large man who was beardless but huge in size. Huge hands wielded a cutlass larger then any broadsword. His face could be likened to that of a giant. The features so large they looked blurry and distorted. And his feet seemed to cause miniscule earthquakes on the ground. He seemed to be standing at eight feet tall, perhaps he weighed three hundred pounds. However big he was, he looked as if he was a formidable enemy.
The third man was smaller then the rest, almost Peregrine’s size. He had a small black mustache and beard, trimmed with the care of an Englishman. His eyes were dark and beady, and his features sharply carved, his expressions harsh. His body was small, light and fast, and his cutlass was a sharp as a razor straight from the wet stone. These three were all converged on Peregrine.
There was a clatter as the cutlass of the wasp pirate flew from his hand as Peregrine’s sword, Revenger, emerged victorious from the scene. Instantly, the giant swung a blow at him, which Peregrine avoided, swinging out of the way like some nimble monkey or sprightly pixie, but it was right into the welcoming blade of small man, which cut him along his cheek. For a moment the injured area merely became red, but then blood seeped from the wound. In a rage, Peregrine engaged Revenger with the blade of the pirate, who, with a grin, exerted pressure on his own sword, more then happy to engage in this duel of death. The next thing Peregrine heard was the whistle of metal coming through the air and he jumped out of the way just in time as giant pirate’s sword swung at him again. He turned back to the small pirate and gave him three hard, strong blows, driving him back. He repeated his actions, enjoying his superior skill until the man was backed up against a pine tree nearly defenseless. He was barely able to move his sword, and the whites of his eyes were showing in fear. Peregrine had raised the pommel of his sword in order to knock the man unconscious when he felt another body slam into him. The breathe was knocked from his body as the wasp pirate knocked him to the ground.
Peregrine scrambled to the best angle he could, before he was forced to raise his weapon and defend himself. Whack! Clang! Clang! The echoing sound of metal being slammed upon metal rang out again. Peregrine’s muscles ached, and his opponent was at a better angle to kill him then he was to kill the pirate. Besides, giant pirate and small pirate both were raising their swords to kill him. He knew pirates followed no chivalrous code. The words “play fair” weren’t even in a pirate’s vocabulary. Cheating was not even allowed, it was expected and encouraged.
In a desperate gamble, Peregrine jammed his blade under his body and rolled over, knowing that at any second he could feel the cold metal piercing through his flesh. He would have shuddered at that thought, but he did not, he couldn’t even spare the time. But at the end of his swift roll over, he emerged unscathed, raising Revenger again to duel with the pirates. He stuck blows and parried a few blows with each of them. Then, all of a sudden, one gave a yell and ran from the spot, the others following him, sprinting away.
“FILTHY COWARDS!!” Peregrine roared. Raising Revenger high above his dark-haired head, he persuaded them across the sandy beach and through the tropical garden they led him through, knocking over baskets, bowls, and trampling plants as they went, with Peregrine in their wake, being just as careless.
There was silence. Not letting down his guard or his weapon, Peregrine surveyed his surrounding suspiciously. He had no inkling to where they could be as they had seemingly vanished into thin air. Then a rough curse gave them away. All three outlaws were standing upon a rooftop.
“COWARDS!” Peregrine yelled again. And without wasting another moment, he shot up the ladder leading to the rooftop and smiled, looking at them, his sword at the ready. The small pirate smiled back evilly, before dropping a lighted match on the thatched roof. Immediately the straw went up in flames just as the smile was wiped off Peregrine’s face. The pirates climbed down a ladder on the opposite side of the hut, knocking it down before Peregrine had a chance to follow them, and now he was trapped. One ladder the pirates had knocked down and the other was separated from him by the fast-advancing flames which too high to jump.
Bereft of all other options, Peregrine put his two front fingers into his mouth and blew as a high piercing sound was emitted. Moments later, the sound of galloping hooves was heard. Mighty, powerful hooves and aloud, challenging nigh, the battle cry of a war horse. Vollo had arrived.
Peregrine jumped as Vollo ran under the burning structure. And Vollo galloped back across the garden and beach, after the retreating pirates once more, with Peregrine astride him. Horse and rider made a mighty team, one which was not easily beaten.
Stopping of the sand, Vollo slid and then reared up, pawing the air and whinnying in challenge while Peregrine yelled and waved his sword around as the pirates stopped to look at them in renewed terror to see their enemy mounted upon a powerful steed. Suddenly, Peregrine felt a sharp pain in his shoulder and turned to see an arrow sticking from his shoulder. At once he felt drugged and sluggish, as if an intoxicating scent was being forced up his nose. Then he swayed in the saddle and fell, everything went black before he hit the ground.
Instantly, the pirates rushed forward upon seeing the fall of their enemy, but they had not taken an important detail into account. Vollo. When Peregrine had fallen, Vollo began to come back to earth, but before his front hooves had touched the ground, the wasp pirate ran under the belly of the great horse, and as he passed under Vollo’s hooves, one of them struck the pirate in the head. The wasp man fell dead to the ground, struck in the head by Vollo’s silver-shod hoof. The other two men froze in their paths leading toward Peregrine. Then he scampered over to their fallen comrade, lifted him between them, and literarily ran to the sea, bearing him with them.
There was silence as the youth lay upon the ground, wounded in the shoulder. His steed turned to him and sniffed his body, confused and bewildered to why his master had not leapt to his feet and commenced with waving his sword around by now. Then suddenly lightning split the sky and thunder rolled in the heavens. Rain poured down in torrents and something great in the sea rose up. It was a monster, with a long neck and a fish-like body. But its eyes were kind, a deep calming blue in comparison to its sharp rows of teeth. Down a little ways, the body was large and well developed, four marine fins propelling it along. The storm continued to unleash its fury upon the inhabitants before it as the monster bent its head under its nose touched Peregrine’s chest.
Vollo, though he had been unusually brave for any horse up to this point, couldn’t take it any more. The monster terrified him. He left out a horse’s terrified scream and bolted across the other side of the island, leaving his master alone with the monster.
Then the monster opened its jaws wide and put the human between them, not to eat, but gently, as if it was a lioness transporting her cubs. Then she raised her head and swam out to sea, bearing the injured human with her….
* * *
Peregrine felt water sloshing against his skin, vaguely his clothes were swirling around him and he was lying on something soft and flexible. He didn’t feel like moving from his comfortable position though, he would rather just lie asleep. There, wherever he was.
He was lying on the shore of a beach, the arrow still sticking out from his shoulder and the blood still all over his face. And still Vollo was nowhere to be seen. Before he lay the desolate ruins of what had once been a great city, but it was now ransacked and plundered by pirates, its former beauty in tatters…
Do you need help with getting started? No, the site is pretty well organized.
Your Character
Name: Cronos Alexander Lynx
Age: 16
Birthday: January 4th, 1992
Gender: Male
Grade: 10
Place of Birth: California
Parents: Pericles Lynx (Father) and Persephone Lynx (Mother)
Siblings: Athena Lynx (Younger sister)
Other: Not that I can think of at the moment.
Appearance:
1. His blonde hair is quite messy and often all the place. In color, it is not bright blonde and shocking, but a rather toned-down dirty blonde.
2. He has piercing blue eyes which make you feel as if you are being x-rayed when he looks at you, or rather that your mind is being examined.
3. He's very slightly built, with a definate scrawny-ness to his structure. He stands at a considerably tall 5'10", but he only weighs 140 pounds.
4. He's skin is a permanent tan.
{Celeb}Picture:
Alex PettyferLikes:
1. Horses
2. Intelligence
3. Girls
4. Winning
5. Archery
6. Fencing.
7. Fooling around
8. Magic
9. Showing off
Dislikes:
1. Losing
2. Mathematics
3. Girls who don't think he's cool
4.Being talked about behind his back.
5. Snakes
6. Not knowing something.
7. Rival know-it-alls.
Talents:
1. He's an accomplished equestrian, fencer, and archer
2. He can speak English as his first language and Italian as his second.
Strengths:
1. Horses
2. Talking to girls
3. Fencing
4. Archery
5. Magic
6. Writing
7. Getting up at insanely early hours
8. Singing
Weaknesses:
For all his impressive and relaxed demenor, he's a first class ctulz. He trips over eveything in sight unless he's on the back of a horse, but he makes light of it and turns it into 'class clownism'.
Also, he has little pacience for things he doesn't enoy doing and can be dark a moody at times. He doesn't take grief well and although he is not a sore loser, he doesn't like failure.
Let me also add that he is your typical teenage rebel. He will go out of his way to annoy the adults. Therefore, he can be difficult to talk to on occasion and he can be incredible rude when he wants to be.
Power(s): He can manipulate thunder/lightning. He can create a storm, but he can't stop a real one. He also has the ability to fly for short amounts of time, however he is still mastering this skill and it is not as strong as his storm power.
Life goals/ Ambitions:
To become powerful in both magic and his hobbies and to become the coolest person whever he may be.
Other{fav/worst memories, habits, fears, regrets, etc.}:
1. Favorite memory: His favorite memory has to be the first time he rode a horse at age two.
2. Worst memory: When his best friend was killed in a car accident and he had his leg broken in a car accident.
3. Habits: uhh, could I see what I can pull out as the character develops?
4. Fears: Being wounded or crippled for life, loosing his good looks, death.
5. Regrets: The thing he regrets most is when he was 10 years old he could have attended a high-quality academy for the gifted, but he passed the chance up, therefore he was forever regretted that decision.
History:
Warning: I don't put a lot of effort into histories, but...
Cronos was born with seemingly no special powers and it was assumed he was a normal kid until the age of ten when he and his sister, Athena, were on the roof and were playing truth or dare, something the young Cronos had heard being played at school and was aching to try out of his little sister. So far, it wasn't working well and he was dared to catch rain drops on his tongue by the 7-year-old. He responded that he couldn't because there wasn't any rain to which Athena responded, 'Well make one.' and amazingly, that was just what Cronos did.
He was immediately sent a letter from a prestegious Academy for the Gifted, but the boy turned the application down, telling everyone he was not going to live high-posh dorms and the messengers left in a huff. Several years later, when Cronos discovered his ability to fly on a camping trip in the mountains, he regretted that choice. In his Freshman year, he was accepted to Valora Academy and has been reeking havoc on the teachers there ever since...
Did you read the rules? Snapple.
