Post by TPot on Aug 12, 2009 1:28:10 GMT -5
Referred by: TPot
Name: TPot
Age: 20ish, give or take a few months.
Race: Human
Gender: Male
DoB: 23/04
Appearance: TPot is tall, black haired (Cliche, I know.) and
green eyed. His attire is usually composed of a regular T-shirt and a pair of jeans, a pair of well worn sneakers completes the ensemble.
Drives: TPot drives a motorcycle of no distinguished brand or make. Seemingly, the thing that pushes him in life is being able to laugh at everything around him.
Fears: TPot appears to have a dislike of heights that can be rather irritating at the best of times.
Hopes: TPot hasn't shown to have many 'hopes' as such, some say he doesn't simply because he lacks the mental capacity to do so, these ones seem to die in suspicious circumstances, always seeming to involve fire.
Dislikes: Doctors.
Images: *Will be added if found* (Actually, I had thought of someone who would fit T perfectly...)
Personality: TPot is known to take nothing seriously, at all. But this is only half true. He does take his sacred duty to view existence as a joke seriously. He has been known to be rather dangerous when angered, however, it is not often easy to see just how angry he is.
He is considered as an idiot by alot of people, they don't seem to appreciate his subtle wit and humour, and are often found to die in suspicious circumstances, always seeming to involve fire.
History:My life eh? Curious, aren't we? Well, if you really want to know...
First off you'll want to know my name though, won't you? Don't look at me like that, did you honestly think that any parent in their right mind would name a child 'TPot'? You did? Well you're wrong. My actual name is much worse.
But what is my name? You aren't gonna like it, I'm sure. Are you ready?
Potorio, Tarmarit Potorio.
People ask me why I refer to myself as TPot, I think the reason is pretty clear. Seriously, just call me TPot, it'll be easier that way, and less painful for you.
Now, if you can't tell by the magic spell my real name appears to be, my mother was a witch. I'm serious, dead set. She focused in imbuing items with properties of elements. Weird stuff really, but she did enjoy the neverending cup of wine trick, if she were alive today she'd probably see this as a bad idea, in retrospect.
Before we all go any further, this is all speculation. As I do not actually remember any of the details I have managed to pick up what I do know from stories and such.
Anyway, from what I can gather, mother dearest decided that after indulging on the neverending wine glass a bit that she would get to work on some form of flaming stake, some massive vampire owner or such. So she got to work, I think we all know what comes next.
Kaboom. Explosion, instant death. Half of the house was suddenly destroyed in what would later be referred to in the police report as "A gas leak". I myself had been in the remaining side of the house, and so, being as curious as any small child could be, I went to find out what had happened.
That's where the police found me, playing amongst the rubble with what appeared to be a wooden stake, perhaps mahogany or such, as it was a deep red in colour. As a policeman attempted to take it off me, a splinter lodged into my right hand, a splinter that was unnoticed and therefore unremoved.
Orphanage life was pretty normal, set the cat on fire no less than eighteen times, twice in the space of fifteen minutes. After a while I got bored and left. Just like that.
Of course I was brought back, can't blame the police for trying to do their job, it was rather quickly that a new family took me in though.
Andrew and Ellimere, of the Gerald variety. What a boring surname, seriously. They had a little girl as well, a few years younger than me, Tam, her name is.
These guys seemed alright, so I hung around with them for a while. It was all fun and such, till that long forgotten splinter resurfaced. At first my hand started hurting, it was annoying at first, then slowly getting worse. I didn't tell anyone about it, they'd tell me to see a doctor about it, if there's one thing that annoys me more than stupid people, it's doctors.
So I kept it quiet, and after a while it grew to be almost unbearable, a constant, burning pain. There was no way to relieve it, the medicine cabinet quickly was relieved of all pain killers, but nothing worked.
One day I was getting into an argument with someone and I got ticked.
I'd been in pain from my arm, the guy was a dropkick and I'd just had enough. I was ready to leave the remnants of him in a toilet somewhere.
Of course, as with all good power, anger set it off. It's cliche, it's overdone, but it works. I got pissed, in the worst way. And the splinter reacted.
At first I felt the temperature rise around me, as if I was standing under a stage light, the guy I was going to apply forceful negotiation tactics to was starting to sweat. Finally, my hand burst into fire.
Long story short, he was shocked, called me a freak, I told him his mother thought that was the best part of me and he stepped back. We've never had a problem since then.
That's all old news now though, now I'm in L.A, I spent the flight over sitting next to a doctor, he almost didn't make it.
I'm here now, I'm still trying to work out how to control this fire stuff, after alot of work I've managed to be able to raise my body temperature when needed, and I have the ability to create fire from the hand that is still holding that shard of wood from so long ago.
What I do with said created fire is upto me, I can throw it like a fireball, or just make it extinguish. It doesn't hurt me, although only if I'm touching it with that hand, the rest of me isn't really fireproof
Name: TPot
Age: 20ish, give or take a few months.
Race: Human
Gender: Male
DoB: 23/04
Appearance: TPot is tall, black haired (Cliche, I know.) and
green eyed. His attire is usually composed of a regular T-shirt and a pair of jeans, a pair of well worn sneakers completes the ensemble.
Drives: TPot drives a motorcycle of no distinguished brand or make. Seemingly, the thing that pushes him in life is being able to laugh at everything around him.
Fears: TPot appears to have a dislike of heights that can be rather irritating at the best of times.
Hopes: TPot hasn't shown to have many 'hopes' as such, some say he doesn't simply because he lacks the mental capacity to do so, these ones seem to die in suspicious circumstances, always seeming to involve fire.
Dislikes: Doctors.
Images: *Will be added if found* (Actually, I had thought of someone who would fit T perfectly...)
Personality: TPot is known to take nothing seriously, at all. But this is only half true. He does take his sacred duty to view existence as a joke seriously. He has been known to be rather dangerous when angered, however, it is not often easy to see just how angry he is.
He is considered as an idiot by alot of people, they don't seem to appreciate his subtle wit and humour, and are often found to die in suspicious circumstances, always seeming to involve fire.
History:My life eh? Curious, aren't we? Well, if you really want to know...
First off you'll want to know my name though, won't you? Don't look at me like that, did you honestly think that any parent in their right mind would name a child 'TPot'? You did? Well you're wrong. My actual name is much worse.
But what is my name? You aren't gonna like it, I'm sure. Are you ready?
Potorio, Tarmarit Potorio.
People ask me why I refer to myself as TPot, I think the reason is pretty clear. Seriously, just call me TPot, it'll be easier that way, and less painful for you.
Now, if you can't tell by the magic spell my real name appears to be, my mother was a witch. I'm serious, dead set. She focused in imbuing items with properties of elements. Weird stuff really, but she did enjoy the neverending cup of wine trick, if she were alive today she'd probably see this as a bad idea, in retrospect.
Before we all go any further, this is all speculation. As I do not actually remember any of the details I have managed to pick up what I do know from stories and such.
Anyway, from what I can gather, mother dearest decided that after indulging on the neverending wine glass a bit that she would get to work on some form of flaming stake, some massive vampire owner or such. So she got to work, I think we all know what comes next.
Kaboom. Explosion, instant death. Half of the house was suddenly destroyed in what would later be referred to in the police report as "A gas leak". I myself had been in the remaining side of the house, and so, being as curious as any small child could be, I went to find out what had happened.
That's where the police found me, playing amongst the rubble with what appeared to be a wooden stake, perhaps mahogany or such, as it was a deep red in colour. As a policeman attempted to take it off me, a splinter lodged into my right hand, a splinter that was unnoticed and therefore unremoved.
Orphanage life was pretty normal, set the cat on fire no less than eighteen times, twice in the space of fifteen minutes. After a while I got bored and left. Just like that.
Of course I was brought back, can't blame the police for trying to do their job, it was rather quickly that a new family took me in though.
Andrew and Ellimere, of the Gerald variety. What a boring surname, seriously. They had a little girl as well, a few years younger than me, Tam, her name is.
These guys seemed alright, so I hung around with them for a while. It was all fun and such, till that long forgotten splinter resurfaced. At first my hand started hurting, it was annoying at first, then slowly getting worse. I didn't tell anyone about it, they'd tell me to see a doctor about it, if there's one thing that annoys me more than stupid people, it's doctors.
So I kept it quiet, and after a while it grew to be almost unbearable, a constant, burning pain. There was no way to relieve it, the medicine cabinet quickly was relieved of all pain killers, but nothing worked.
One day I was getting into an argument with someone and I got ticked.
I'd been in pain from my arm, the guy was a dropkick and I'd just had enough. I was ready to leave the remnants of him in a toilet somewhere.
Of course, as with all good power, anger set it off. It's cliche, it's overdone, but it works. I got pissed, in the worst way. And the splinter reacted.
At first I felt the temperature rise around me, as if I was standing under a stage light, the guy I was going to apply forceful negotiation tactics to was starting to sweat. Finally, my hand burst into fire.
Long story short, he was shocked, called me a freak, I told him his mother thought that was the best part of me and he stepped back. We've never had a problem since then.
That's all old news now though, now I'm in L.A, I spent the flight over sitting next to a doctor, he almost didn't make it.
I'm here now, I'm still trying to work out how to control this fire stuff, after alot of work I've managed to be able to raise my body temperature when needed, and I have the ability to create fire from the hand that is still holding that shard of wood from so long ago.
What I do with said created fire is upto me, I can throw it like a fireball, or just make it extinguish. It doesn't hurt me, although only if I'm touching it with that hand, the rest of me isn't really fireproof
