I encourage everyone to go to -> and join for a wonderfully deadly rp experience. It's going to be a blast!
Name: Ebenum Cantet
Stage names: Hollow Bird
Abilities and Skills: He is extremely flexible and has an insensitivity to pain due to nerve damage (though intense pain is still something he can feel, he may often times walk around with a cut without realizing it). He's very gentle with delicate things and has nimble fingers which he uses for sewing.
Personality: Reclusive by nature, Ebenum prefers to be high above the crowd and out of sight as much as possible until curtain call. Though the carnival has forced interaction with others, he prefers to simple listen rather than act out. This makes him appear as if he's completely drawn into himself most of the time due to the fact that his facial expressions are hidden behind hair and mask. Though his height may make him appear intimidating, he feels emotions to extremes (to counter balance the lack of feeling in other areas). He bottles up his feelings in order to avoid drawing attention to himself, thinking that he is unapproachable and having an extreme self loathing.
History: Several witnesses report having seen him during their childhoods, but these elderly people have only blurry photos embroidered with black soot, and a single name to back up their words. The Torcher Crow, as they've told it, was either an angel of mercy or the smothering ashy winged beast that started the string of flames. Several buildings seem to be completely consumed by fire within a short time of each other, destroying a handful of families. The only body found intact was that of a little girl. The girl died of smoke inhalation and the death was fairly normal, save for the thin film of ash on her that was absent in several places, as if she'd been pressed tight to something.
Ebendum does not speak of his past, or of the stories his mask and tattered attire inspire. After spending some time as a caged creature to be mocked and viewed in a far crueler circus, he found his way to the carnival of Malice, and shyly requested to stay amongst them, promising to do no harm if only given the chance to prove that he could.
-His papery grey skin is marked with silverish streaks that are visible on his neck (and the hands and arms when he shows them on rare occasion).
-He doe NOT like to remove his mask in sight of others and will avoid it at all costs, going so far as to become violent when someone makes an attempt to remove it.
-There are no eye holes on his mask because he has very poor vision as it is, relying mostly on other senses.
-He speaks in rhymes often times, and prefers to mutter them to himself in private, though he will not stop passers by from listening.
-He will sooner take someone's arm off than let them touch the tiny bird body in his pocket. He's very protective of it for some reason....
-He has a very mellow and smooth voice, but only speaks in a whisper to others.
-He likes to sew. ACT
Mr.Cantet is a contortionist, but his insensitivity to pain and strange appearance are enough to sent anyone on edge. He enjoys frightening people by starting his show by falling from the tightrope and picking himself back up off his feet from the dead defying experience. He's more than willing to splinter himself with long nails for effect, and is careful to stitch the wounds in himself (as well as his clothing) afterwards.
RP Sample: *The chipped bark of the trees around hims twisted and creaked as he walked by, groaning in leafless agony as the bitter cold licked up from the dull clay towards the tips of the bare twigs. The chill of the wind reminded him of warmth, which he most certainly wanted.* Twice it sparks, thrice by dark, and wittles away, ebbs, and decays....*he mutters faintly, thumbing the tiny favored body in his pocket as he goes, not wanting the twice dead skin to become hard in the cold at the risk of cracking. He comes to an abrupt stop as billowing canvas catches his attention, all to familiar in origin, yet enticingly different. He walks towards the colossal tent and peers up at it's dwarfing sides. His eyes come to rest upon a ticket stub as it flits through the air. He catches it with long numb fingers, and reads the script.* A carnival you say.....