About Character Name: Deora Ray




Character Name: Deora Ray.
Canon/Original: [Canon]
Gender: Male

Age: 25

Family:
Father: Jonathan Ray: Deceased: Workplace "accident"
Mother: Mary Ray: Deceased: Sexual disease


Occupation: Alchemist

Place of Habitation: Thiasa Keep: Deora resides in an abandoned barracks. With the standing army in the border garrisons Thiasa has little use for it. He swiftly coated the area with an array of organized chaos. Poor quality parchment litters the floors and splotches of ink coat many walls.

Black streaks betray the previous presence of the black powder with which he is very well acquainted. One may see various kegs of the powder. All meticulously labeled with the details of their ingredients. Many children and neighbors avoid the building where a powder-stained recluse accepts blank kegs from nervous errand boys.


Physical Description:Deora's appearance suits him well enough. He has a broad smile that hides numerous secrets, yet also displays his humor towards life. He is five foot eight and generally lanky. He is not extraordinarily handsome yet may be considered good looking. A head of dark red hair upsets his overall features. He bears light blue eyes that display mildness that pairs with his smile to display an overall appearance of contentment. To an untrained eye the blue orbs appear harmless and kind. In fact however his eyes drink in everything he sees. They move slowly and inoffensively, yet they miss nothing. Everything he does exudes calm and kindness. Even to a stranger he appears like something near and dear. His face often opens with laugh or a smile, while his eyes open to for knowledge.

Personality: Deora is complicated. Gears and axles work in his intelligent mind, Unceasing formulas and possibilities run rampant inside it. He is often incapable of keeping these things inside of his mind and they soon find themselves on paper.Said weapons, sketched by feverish hands that have drawn countless diagrams before these. His mind does not yield devices for living. He does not invent a more efficient plow or a cleaner well. His inventions are only capable of bringing pain. His mind creates visions of explosives and weapons.

OOn a very surprising note ,Deora displays an outer layer of benevolence. He smiles and often shows a large range of wit. He seems cheeky and irrepressible as he forces laughs out of the hardest frowns. He exudes an air of familiarity. To a total stranger he would appear as a childhood friend, or an old drinking buddy. This congenial layer does little to affect his minds inner working, and his dreams.


His dreams are of muskets scything down opponents. His hands draw ballistics that would leave indents on the earth for years to come. He sometimes feels guilty for creating devices, only to satisfy his minds urgings. Yet whenenver he immersed in his work a smile will crawl upon his face. Deora is smart and more so then for his own good. He is morally warped. He may smile and jest with others but his eyes will archive all that they survey. His mind will record everything around him. He can take a seat and his feverish hands will still. His eyes may twinkle. He may make jokes around a table with all the seeming of calm. But his mind never stops.

History: Deora did not have noble beginnings. He did not live in a manor. He didn't hunt stag aboard a thoroughbred stallion. For most of his life he hunted rats down alleys on shoeless feet. He lived in a dense city in the decaying country of Scalia. His family was eventually found employment at the newly operating matchlock production facility The buisness had a constant need for powerless individuals who were dependant on the job and entirely expendable. The so-called family was a twelve-year-old Deora and thirty-year-old father. Deora was a single child. He had enjoyed his mother’s presence and spent most of his life unaware that she was a prostitute. She had wanted to be a governess but Deora's father needed to be money to settle his rather shady debts. There was no love lost between the father and son, and when it came to duties the duo had a choice to make. They would be working in the fetch and carry department. One would push a cart laden with powder to the factory. The path went through a gentle slope and a series of broad alleyways. The other had to transport the powder through the foundry and into the alchemic wing. Traveling through the foundry allowed plenty of opportunities to be scalded by cascading sparks. Hit by exploding scrap metal. Destroyed in exploding powder fires or generally maimed.

After this was explained his father swiftly chose the outside path and thus thus doomed Deora to two years of scurrying through danger whilst his father waltzed down a nice path. Deora had often been contemptuous towards his manipulative and greedy father. This situation had solidified his anger. Deora was not one to be slighted and his cruel mind went to work. Using his meager free time he scratched at a large vat of metal. Satisfied with the hole he plugged it with a solid piece of metal. When the two gathered their meager pay Deora snatched his father's. He lured the wretched man towards the metal foundry. Some fancy maneuvering brought his father under the whole. Deoro grabbed a previously attached string and yanked the metal plug out. His father decided to die a less then favorable death that included the meeting of molten metal and his skin. His father’s yelps brought several influential figures in the foundry. Upon their arrival Deora stuck the plug back in, stifling the flow. Deora was later celebrated as a hero who saved the building from fiery destruction. He became an alchemists apprentice for a till the age twenty. For another three years he worked at the familiar building. At age twenty-three he was satisfied with his knowledge and decided that he could gain more on his own. He set out for Thiasa and settled in. He has created a personal workplace and begun asserting himself into the scene. The rest of his life is to be decided.

Plot Potential: Deora is a writhing bucket of plot potential. He is infatuated with the inventions that he pumps out. Deora is addicted to creating death. He would do anything to continue his studies. He wants to spend his days creating his weapons and will let nothing stand in his way. His ambition is to be at the front, to lead men and arm them with his weapons. He is in love with butchery and would never let anything silly as peace stop him.

This was Deora's heaven. Before him was a squat clay pot. The air had a salty taste to it. These were the remnants of previous experiments. His hands moved back and forth over an array of kegs. He put a hand to his chin before reaching a desicion. A lanky arm plucked the keg from the table. He put a thumb into the opening and proceeded to taste the powder. Satisfied he turned to his assistant. The boy had wanted two things. He’d wanted a warm bed, and complete insurance against being drafted. He had been in twice the danger of any soldier. The heats of the constant controlled explosions keep the place warm.

It also gave the air a taste that mingled between salt, dirt, and vinegar. The helper dropped a casket of scrap metal. These were rusty bits of metal that had appeared around the factory. The odd container held corroded nails and random metallic bits. Deora grinned as he put a piece of metal next to a flint. He attached a thread to the metal and drew it through an opening in the pot. Gunpowder was thrown in around it, and the scraps were put lining the jugs inside walls. All in all it looked like a very dirty brown pot with a few holes in it. Deora stepped back to admire the strange device.

Deora analyzed the device as a revolutionary weapon of unlimited potential. His assistant regarded it as weird. He moved closer to it and was pulled back by Deora's firm hand. The aide inquired as to what it was and Deora smiled good-naturedly.

"Let's call it border patrol and I'd advise against touching it."

Eguzki


((If anything is off feel free to remind me.))

OK--first off, I love your creativity.

That said, though I hate to nitpick, you really need to edit for basic grammar. You have a great many sentence fragments (sentences without verbs or subjects), which makes what you write hard to follow. You've also misspelled 'Thiasa' and the name of the Baskari god--since we've given the spellings of those, that just seems like carelessness. However, you've also misspelled a great many words in English. I would honestly suggest running this and future posts, if you are accepted, through Word, which will catch you on spelling and grammar.

Fix up these basic errors and I'll check this out again, OK? As always, feel free to PM me with any questions.

OK... as Sam said the creativity is great. There are still four sentence fragments that could easily be fixed by copying the whole thing into word. I know this may not seem like a big deal to you, but basic sentence structure is not something anyone should really let slide.

Sketched by feverish hands that have drawn countless diagrams before these.

Most of the time he grins as he makes them.

Thus dooming Deora to two years of scurrying through danger whilst his father waltzed down a nice path.

Corroded nails and random metallic bits.

If you could please fix these we will accept you. And in the future try and keep an eye out for fragments such as these. They disrupt the flow of your writing, and make it hard to understand.