Post by Alastair V. Derora on Nov 25, 2009 22:44:18 GMT -6
Alastair Victor Derora
Franchise: X-Men
Celebrity Claim: Conor Oberst
Custom Title: Not your troubadour.
Alignment: Neutral
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Special Abilities and Strengths:
Alistair is an omni-instrumentalist. He can play any instrument in the world with ability rivaling even the most experienced virtuosos. All he has to do is simply hold it for a bit, and the knowledge and playing style is seemingly channeled through the instrument into his brain. His voice counts as an instrument as well. He seems to be well-trained in all forms of singing. His vocal range spans from a falsetto down to a tenor. He can play an instrument and sing at the same time, but only two. He's not a one man band.
Giving this ability a more practical use, he can use it for healing purposes. By singing, humming, or playing an instrument, he can heal others. This effect only lasts when his allies are in hearing range, and only persist as long as he plays an instrument or sings. He can heal himself. In addition to healing, he can use his music to boost his own speed.
Weaknesses:
Singing doesn't have as powerful as an impact as an instrument. However, many instruments tend to be bulky, and would make getting away from fights harder. So, he has to choose between being able to escape easier, or being able to heal more efficiently. He cannot get around this by using a small instrument like a piccolo, because those kinds of instruments have as good of an effect as singing does, so they would be liabilities.
He cannot fight. He isn't even good at street brawling, or even randomly throwing punches and hoping that one of them can connect.
If he sings a three minute song, he needs to rest his voice for one and a half minutes or risk losing his voice. He can sing seven minute songs just fine, but then he has to rest his voice for three and a half minutes. He needs to rest his voice for half of the duration of the song he had just sung.
Alastair cannot boost his allies' speed, only his own.
Personality: At first, he seems like a nice, normal guy. However, he really has a dislike for people in general. He seems to believe that others have to prove themselves to be worthy of his friendship. He believes himself to be paranoid, always thinking and wondering about the worst situations or what people are doing to stab him in the back. This distances himself from many, but the small minority of people who have gained his trust soon learn all of his secrets. And he has many.
Likes
Music- playing and writing.
The color blue, any shade of it.
Older movies, indie movies, and B movies.
Dislikes
Crowded areas like parties or restaurants.
Any kinds of insects, ranging from annoyed to oh god get it away before I scream like a little girl.
Deep water.
History: Alastair was born to Glen and Jessie Derora in a tiny suburb in Connecticut. Nothing ever really happened in that suburb, it was a nice town with a good school, but it was boring. Alistair knew it was boring. He hated it. He wanted to move to a big city and be known to someone. As far as he was concerned, he was never going anywhere in his town. His life was too normal. He wanted something more.
So he 'moved'. More like ran. Ran, ran, ran to New York a few weeks after he graduated high school at age eighteen. There he learned of his power to play any instrument he wanted to. He knew of the law restricting the use of powers, but was this counted as a power? He did try a bunch of instruments at the little shop he used as a hangout, but he was sure that they just thought he was a prodigy of some sort. Quickly finding it boring there, he decided to try to scrap up some money. The people at the shop helped him make some cash by performing instrumentals for their commercials. That was probably the only good thing about the commercials, however. With that money, he paid for some instruments. The elderly shop owner 'adopted' Alastair as his own son, not knowing of his intentions.
As soon as he got some clothes to pack and enough instruments to fill a room and then some, he packed up and headed out. Where would he go? He didn't know, but he had a bank account with a fairly good amount of money. But, then again, the ultimate adventure would be to take all of his money and completely leave Earth. What a rush that would be! He was pretty sure he'd miss his parents, but he just wanted to see what was out there, and see if anything was better. He was indecisive for a while, but finally decided he was going to see something that wasn't Earth.
Sample Role Play Post: A yawn escaped the lips of one Alastair Victor Derora. He was relaxing in his little bedroom on top of the old shop. The curtains were shut, letting only a dull light wash through the room. It illuminated the dust, and gave shape to the many assorted instruments in the room, lying carelessly strewn across the floor. How many did he have with his most recent purchase? He didn't know, he figured about ten or so by now. He had a guitar, a violin, a piccolo, a flute, a trumpet, a drum kit, a cello... What else? It was easy to lose track. He figured he had another wind instrument. Did he have a saxophone? Or a xylophone?
It had an x and the word 'phone' in it. Close enough. Probably a xylophone. They were barely appropriate for most situations, but he liked making lullaby-like ballads from time to time. They were fun, and probably the most vocally demanding. For those kinds of songs, all emphasis should be placed on the voice, not the instruments. He learned that from Mr. Matthews, the owner. He dabbled in composing from time to time, enough to teach Alastair enough to make decent sounding songs. But what Alastair wanted was a nice place to record what sounded like a full symphony- but it would all be him! It would take a lot of time, but it would sound so great...
He turned over in his bed, facing away from the light, to his door. He was getting a bit over himself. Too many dreams. He needed to just let some go. Of course, it wasn't something that happened overnight, they just gradually faded out. Maybe this would be one of them. But he wouldn't let his travels get in the way of that. He was leaving, that was final. He already booked his ticket out of here for good. For good? Maybe. What if his parents caught him? Oh man, would he be in for it. They hadn't seen him in years. When- if- they learned that he ran away just to live in a dusty old attic above a music shop they would have the fit of fits. They dreamed of him being a rich lawyer, or doctor or something. Or politician, so he could get rid of that blasted power act thing. He clenched his fist, gathering the sheets.
He breathed out slowly, his hands slowly loosening grip. His sheets, off white in color, still retained the wrinkles from his grip. Battle scars. He turned and sat on the edge of his bed, looking down. There were his shoes, practically begging to leave now. Just get out of here, they don't need you, you don't need them! Besides, it's only a matter of time before they turn you in anyway.
Alastair's thoughts shifted to what would happen if he was caught. Who knew what kind of experiments they would perform on him? Would he just become a guinea pig, a lab rat for the rest of his existence? He wouldn't. He refused. He needed to prevent that from happening. He would prevent that from happening. Now.
He threw open his drawers, taking out all of his clothes. He didn't have a lot, but he had enough. His clothing was simple. Various pairs of jeans and simple, solid colored shirts, with different colored button-down shirts over that. On most days, he wore a jacket still over that. He tried to cram as much stuff as he could into the suitcases he had hidden under his bed for this very occasion. He managed to fit it all, good. He then assembled his various instruments in their respective cases... This wouldn't work. He had to leave some stuff behind. He took the guitar, the trumpet and the violin. He could always alter the pitch of the violin, and distort the trumpet... Maybe... And he could always find drums wherever he was going. They were universal, used in all kinds of music.
He stood up. He had two suitcases, a guitar case strapped to his back, a violin case and a trumpet case. He wasn't traveling as light as he really should be, but he couldn't stand to leave anything more behind. Alastair took out a pen and paper. How he wanted this day to come. He was shaking with anticipation. 'Thanks for all of the years you've let me stay here. I'll come back one day.' That's all he needed to write. He wrote a quick signature, and opened the door. This would be the first day to his new life.
How did you find us?: Google. Yeah, I know.
What about you? Anything else?:I'm Nick, and I almost never chat in the little chat boxes below. Nothing personal at all though. I do have MSN/Windows Live Messenger if anyone wants to talk though >> (Okay, I went a little overboard with the sample RP. Whoops. And I've had trouble with this power before in other profiles, I hope it's alright Dx)
Franchise: X-Men
Celebrity Claim: Conor Oberst
Custom Title: Not your troubadour.
Alignment: Neutral
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Special Abilities and Strengths:
Alistair is an omni-instrumentalist. He can play any instrument in the world with ability rivaling even the most experienced virtuosos. All he has to do is simply hold it for a bit, and the knowledge and playing style is seemingly channeled through the instrument into his brain. His voice counts as an instrument as well. He seems to be well-trained in all forms of singing. His vocal range spans from a falsetto down to a tenor. He can play an instrument and sing at the same time, but only two. He's not a one man band.
Giving this ability a more practical use, he can use it for healing purposes. By singing, humming, or playing an instrument, he can heal others. This effect only lasts when his allies are in hearing range, and only persist as long as he plays an instrument or sings. He can heal himself. In addition to healing, he can use his music to boost his own speed.
Weaknesses:
Singing doesn't have as powerful as an impact as an instrument. However, many instruments tend to be bulky, and would make getting away from fights harder. So, he has to choose between being able to escape easier, or being able to heal more efficiently. He cannot get around this by using a small instrument like a piccolo, because those kinds of instruments have as good of an effect as singing does, so they would be liabilities.
He cannot fight. He isn't even good at street brawling, or even randomly throwing punches and hoping that one of them can connect.
If he sings a three minute song, he needs to rest his voice for one and a half minutes or risk losing his voice. He can sing seven minute songs just fine, but then he has to rest his voice for three and a half minutes. He needs to rest his voice for half of the duration of the song he had just sung.
Alastair cannot boost his allies' speed, only his own.
Personality: At first, he seems like a nice, normal guy. However, he really has a dislike for people in general. He seems to believe that others have to prove themselves to be worthy of his friendship. He believes himself to be paranoid, always thinking and wondering about the worst situations or what people are doing to stab him in the back. This distances himself from many, but the small minority of people who have gained his trust soon learn all of his secrets. And he has many.
Likes
Music- playing and writing.
The color blue, any shade of it.
Older movies, indie movies, and B movies.
Dislikes
Crowded areas like parties or restaurants.
Any kinds of insects, ranging from annoyed to oh god get it away before I scream like a little girl.
Deep water.
History: Alastair was born to Glen and Jessie Derora in a tiny suburb in Connecticut. Nothing ever really happened in that suburb, it was a nice town with a good school, but it was boring. Alistair knew it was boring. He hated it. He wanted to move to a big city and be known to someone. As far as he was concerned, he was never going anywhere in his town. His life was too normal. He wanted something more.
So he 'moved'. More like ran. Ran, ran, ran to New York a few weeks after he graduated high school at age eighteen. There he learned of his power to play any instrument he wanted to. He knew of the law restricting the use of powers, but was this counted as a power? He did try a bunch of instruments at the little shop he used as a hangout, but he was sure that they just thought he was a prodigy of some sort. Quickly finding it boring there, he decided to try to scrap up some money. The people at the shop helped him make some cash by performing instrumentals for their commercials. That was probably the only good thing about the commercials, however. With that money, he paid for some instruments. The elderly shop owner 'adopted' Alastair as his own son, not knowing of his intentions.
As soon as he got some clothes to pack and enough instruments to fill a room and then some, he packed up and headed out. Where would he go? He didn't know, but he had a bank account with a fairly good amount of money. But, then again, the ultimate adventure would be to take all of his money and completely leave Earth. What a rush that would be! He was pretty sure he'd miss his parents, but he just wanted to see what was out there, and see if anything was better. He was indecisive for a while, but finally decided he was going to see something that wasn't Earth.
Sample Role Play Post: A yawn escaped the lips of one Alastair Victor Derora. He was relaxing in his little bedroom on top of the old shop. The curtains were shut, letting only a dull light wash through the room. It illuminated the dust, and gave shape to the many assorted instruments in the room, lying carelessly strewn across the floor. How many did he have with his most recent purchase? He didn't know, he figured about ten or so by now. He had a guitar, a violin, a piccolo, a flute, a trumpet, a drum kit, a cello... What else? It was easy to lose track. He figured he had another wind instrument. Did he have a saxophone? Or a xylophone?
It had an x and the word 'phone' in it. Close enough. Probably a xylophone. They were barely appropriate for most situations, but he liked making lullaby-like ballads from time to time. They were fun, and probably the most vocally demanding. For those kinds of songs, all emphasis should be placed on the voice, not the instruments. He learned that from Mr. Matthews, the owner. He dabbled in composing from time to time, enough to teach Alastair enough to make decent sounding songs. But what Alastair wanted was a nice place to record what sounded like a full symphony- but it would all be him! It would take a lot of time, but it would sound so great...
He turned over in his bed, facing away from the light, to his door. He was getting a bit over himself. Too many dreams. He needed to just let some go. Of course, it wasn't something that happened overnight, they just gradually faded out. Maybe this would be one of them. But he wouldn't let his travels get in the way of that. He was leaving, that was final. He already booked his ticket out of here for good. For good? Maybe. What if his parents caught him? Oh man, would he be in for it. They hadn't seen him in years. When- if- they learned that he ran away just to live in a dusty old attic above a music shop they would have the fit of fits. They dreamed of him being a rich lawyer, or doctor or something. Or politician, so he could get rid of that blasted power act thing. He clenched his fist, gathering the sheets.
He breathed out slowly, his hands slowly loosening grip. His sheets, off white in color, still retained the wrinkles from his grip. Battle scars. He turned and sat on the edge of his bed, looking down. There were his shoes, practically begging to leave now. Just get out of here, they don't need you, you don't need them! Besides, it's only a matter of time before they turn you in anyway.
Alastair's thoughts shifted to what would happen if he was caught. Who knew what kind of experiments they would perform on him? Would he just become a guinea pig, a lab rat for the rest of his existence? He wouldn't. He refused. He needed to prevent that from happening. He would prevent that from happening. Now.
He threw open his drawers, taking out all of his clothes. He didn't have a lot, but he had enough. His clothing was simple. Various pairs of jeans and simple, solid colored shirts, with different colored button-down shirts over that. On most days, he wore a jacket still over that. He tried to cram as much stuff as he could into the suitcases he had hidden under his bed for this very occasion. He managed to fit it all, good. He then assembled his various instruments in their respective cases... This wouldn't work. He had to leave some stuff behind. He took the guitar, the trumpet and the violin. He could always alter the pitch of the violin, and distort the trumpet... Maybe... And he could always find drums wherever he was going. They were universal, used in all kinds of music.
He stood up. He had two suitcases, a guitar case strapped to his back, a violin case and a trumpet case. He wasn't traveling as light as he really should be, but he couldn't stand to leave anything more behind. Alastair took out a pen and paper. How he wanted this day to come. He was shaking with anticipation. 'Thanks for all of the years you've let me stay here. I'll come back one day.' That's all he needed to write. He wrote a quick signature, and opened the door. This would be the first day to his new life.
How did you find us?: Google. Yeah, I know.
What about you? Anything else?:I'm Nick, and I almost never chat in the little chat boxes below. Nothing personal at all though. I do have MSN/Windows Live Messenger if anyone wants to talk though >> (Okay, I went a little overboard with the sample RP. Whoops. And I've had trouble with this power before in other profiles, I hope it's alright Dx)
