Seven Grey

[seven]

Name: Seven Grey

Age: 18

Gender: Male

Species: Human

Position: On a scale where 0 = Pure evil, and 20 = Pure good, he is about a 14.

Power: Seven has the ability to manipulate cloth. He can‘t conjure or create it, but he can move it by sheer will. (explained in the History/Background section.)

Weapon:
He carries This sword in a sheath at his left side, and uses a heavy canvas scarf as his other primary weapon.

Appearance: He wears loose white kung-fu pants he bought in the bazaar, a dark beige cloth sash, black canvas shoes, and a v-neck shirt that resembles the color of the pants. He wears his light brown hair without paying it much mind, but makes sure it‘s clean. He has an even tan and eyes so dark people ask him if they’re black.

Personality: Seven is a dedicated lad when it comes to things he is interested in. He isn’t immune to fear, but he can handle himself regardless. Under pressure, it varies. Sometimes he cracks, and other times he pulls through. It‘s all a matter situation. He was well liked in school, but never really bothered to make any best friends because he was always wrapped up in his training, whatever it was at the time. He’s the kind of guy that will go out of his way to help a stranger, but he’ll also end a life without too many questions, which dampens his alignment from a 20 to a 14. His dark side is numb to the pain of rash thinking, probably a skill learned from his master.

Original World: Born on Radiant Garden, but raised in Agrabah.
Current Residing World: Traverse Town

History/Background: Seven was born an only child on Radiant garden. His Mother, Diana Grey, was famous in the area for the exquisite rugs she crafted and sold, bringing in more than half of their family’s income. Seven’s father, Kyle Grey, was a struggling blacksmith, for he’d began apprenticing shortly after Seven was born. Other than that, Seven’s memory of that time is weak because of how young he was, but he remembers their large and wonderful home.

Diana became pregnant with their second child when he was five, and everyone was exuberant. It was to be a girl, and Seven remembers being excited for his baby sister. They turned the study back into a nursery, for it had been a study only after seven was out of his crib. Everything was pink and baby proof. There were plenty of soft stuffed animals and baby toys ready for the baby as soon as she came home from the hospital.

Seven’s sixth birthday came and went without a hitch, but two weeks later, he found his mom crying at the bottom of the steppes on a Monday morning. He asked why she was sad, and she told him that they’d lost the baby. It wasn’t until much later that he understood that they didn’t literally misplace her, but she’d died before she could be born.

A few months passed, and his parents had leathered up, holding themselves together as best they could. It was pointless. Their marriage was dwindling in their sadness. Seven could tell that things were changing, but couldn't place his inexperienced finger on it. Less eye contact and less conversation at dinner. only one of them would come to tuck him in at a time, like they were taking turns. Seven didn't appreciate the distance between them, but when he asked he got little in response.

Diana and Kyle were struggling now with more than depression. Each of them felt the eerie changes as the work in the castle looming over head grew increasingly apparent and frightening. Neighbors and friends spoke of shadows and sadness literally spawning from the castles interior, and fluttering down into the towns below. Seven's parents were terrified of what was to come, and justifiably so, for things got worse with each passing day. The fear helped mend their relationship, bringing them closer through passion and parenthood, for their son was all that mattered in this maddened place.

The end approached, they thought for sure that they would not survive. The same friends and neighbors from before were almost completely gone, disappeared or otherwise. There was no one to turn too for help but themselves. They spent three days and three nights barricaded inside their once beautiful and comfortable home.

Kyle had forged something of a suit of armor for himself, intending to defend his family to his last breath. He was no warrior, but he was indeed a father and husband. But alas, when the darkness from the castle broke in through the windows upstairs there was little he could do but use his body to block the entrance of the last room in the house without windows. Diana and Seven remain huddled in the nursery behind Kyle, crying and terrified. Nothing but protecting her son was on her mind, and she was not hopeless. Somehow she knew her love would save him. She hummed a gentle lullaby as the chaos surrounded them, and things went white.

And then they were in the desert, carried far away by a mother's love for her child, having used her very heart as the vessel. They walked towards the only structure they could see, witch turned out to be a city. Welcome to Agrabah.

All seven remembers of any of that is sand and sun. Things were so different it wasn’t even worthy of aw. It was frightening. Their home was small and simple, but he didn’t mind. Diana had no trouble making money fast, selling rugs and tapestry in the bazaar and the market place .School began immediately, and immediately Seven began feeling okay with his new life. The kids were nice and welcoming, but he was obviously different from everyone there. He was interested in his mother’s craft, so he apprenticed her. She could tell he was a natural, in an inspiring way. She watched his potential fulfill fast, and before either of them noticed ten years had passed.

At the age of sixteen, Seven’s mother saw that she had taught him everything she knew already, and he was so good that he could literally do it with his eyes closed. He felt the fibers in his being, like in legends Diana’s grandmother had told her many years ago. Proud wasn’t a strong enough word. So being that Seven had finished learning this, he wanted to learn something else, and that something was the way of the sword.

Two years prior, Seven had watched a man dismember a group of thieves with his sword in the bazaar. Seven was so inspired by the power and grace that he couldn’t get it out of his head. He approached this man, who’s name was Felix.

Felix was older than sixty, but it showed only in his sand-blasted face and wrinkles. His body was strong as when he was thirty, and his mind was sharp as his blade. Seven Asked to apprentice him everyday for exactly one month, getting on his knees in humble request, but was denied every time until the first day of the second month. “You’ve proven your dedication. We will begin tomorrow morning, after moonset.” is what Felix told him. Seven was there as the moon fell below the horizon. Training started with a bang, and didn’t get much easier. Seven got used to being sore everyday, and having no free time, but he would have it no other way, because he was learning exactly what he wanted to learn, and Felix was a great teacher.

A year and six months passed, and seven was becoming an artist with the blade. Long and grueling training sessions were paying off in full and then some. Things were great at home, in school, and with Felix, whom had become the father figure he’d been missing for such a time.

But good things can never last. This is something Seven knows too well. On the night everything went to hell, seven and his mother were expecting Felix shortly, and were preparing a great meal to celebrate Diana’s successful expedition over the past weekend. Felix arrived and they ate well. The three were talking delightfully after the meal, when the sounds of much chaos was heard just outside of the door. Heavy hooves galloped back and forth in the streets, and their were shouts for guards.

Felix, who always carried his sword, went outside without hesitation to find the source of trouble, witch was many bandits on horse back raiding our district. There were no guards in sight. Felix, being the man that he was, told the both of us to stay inside as he ran to do what he did best.

The biggest problem with Agrabah was its fluctuating grip on lawlessness. Felix was no stranger to it, and he was not fearful for his life, but Seven knew by the sound of the horses that there were a lot of men out there. He rushed after him, his own sword at his side.

The search was short. Seven only had to find the largest crowed of rough looking men he could find, and thus he found Felix amongst the chaos. Seven jumped in, nervous and shaky, but ready. The two swordsman fought their way towards one another, until they stood nearly back to back. There was a nod of pride and respect from Felix that Seven will never forget. They fought, comrades in the same military, brothers in arms, father and son, and every way it could have been it was. It was a time that will never be beat out in regards to fear, stress, excitement, glory, and remorse. Their swords swung like ace pilots performing before a crowed of aviation buffs and ignorant buffoons alike. The bodies and bone were foliage and twigs below their scimitars, stopping nothing but sight. Men fell left and right in the streets of Agrabah that night, clumping the sand in crimson loss.

Seven and Felix stood victorious amongst the bodies for what felt like a literal five minutes, but was only a literal ten seconds.

The day after the incident, Felix told Seven that his training was complete. Seven didn’t agree, but felt his words meant more for himself than for Seven. The two men embraced and Seven left. The next morning, Felix Arrived at Seven’s door and gave him a carefully wrapped gift. “Don’t open this until noon.” Seven didn’t ask questions. The two shook hands, and Felix walked away. Seven never saw him again. The gift was a long cloth of thick canvas that unfolded to be the tapestry Felix had hanging in his dojo ever since Seven had known it. Inside the tapestry was Felix’s sword. Seven’s eyes filled with joyous tears at the sight of the gift.

On the 2 year anniversary of Seven’s swordsman training, he packed his things in a backpack. He remembered as best he could all the things his mother told him about his father. He knew she and he loved him, so he deserved more than just memories. Seven intended to leave Agrabah somehow and find his father, dead or alive, and pay him the respects he deserved. He didn't know if that meant bury him, or hug him, or both.

Seven spent the next week in meditation, stopping only for the obvious necessities. He pulled at his heart with his thoughts, thinking of the love of his father and the fear of his fight and the sadness of his loss. On the ninth day of soul dampening remembrance, seven opened his eyes finding himself sitting upon a cobblestone street below beautiful street lamps and stars. Welcome to Traverse town. his hard work had aid off, he hoped, lost in a new world.


Role Playing Sample: Seven's back nudged gently into Felix's. Seven turned sharply, ready to swing and take a life, only to find himself starring at the leather faced swordsman that he'd learned to love like a father. Felix gazed upon Seven, surprised by his swift approach and skillful entrance. His eyes became a hard line each, and he nodded in approval. Seven felt himself tear up at the gesture, but took it in quickly, for there was a battle commencing.

Seven's blade reflexively shot up and clashed powerfully against another man's cutlass. He pulled the cutlass down, and away from himself with a swift leftward motion, bringing himself close to the man's body. Close enough to send a right elbow into his eye. The man studder-stepped backwards, and Seven swung his Scimitar just below his opponents chin, cutting just deep enough for the man to immediately lose his will to fight, and soon his ability to live. Blood pooled in the sand around his body, and seven stood in his home stance once again, ready for the next wood-be triumphant villian of tonights unfortunate turn out. "No glory for unjust violence, isnt that right felix?!" Seven shouted, hopefully startling his many adversaries.

Felix clashed swiftly and beautifully with another apponent, then ended his life with an angled slash across the gut. "Aye, comrade! only blood and pain for their troubles!" Replied Felix, thirsty for his own brand of judgement.