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Blake Ferrinson, Discussion in 'Profiles' started by Double_r111, Jul 1, 2013.
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post Sep 30 2013, 04:11 PM
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QUOTE("Double_r111 @ post: 15050, member: 207")
Name: Blake Ferrinson
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Nationality: Ylissean
Allegiance: Whoever his current employer is, currently House Temple.

Class: Thief
Level 13
Weapon levels: Sword: C [4/5]
Weapons: Combat Dagger: Fang: Piercing, Iron, Killer
Combat Dagger: Talon: Rending, Iron, Killer

Appearance: Blake has long blond hair that reaches down to his shoulders. He doesn’t wear much, just a dark blue robe to hide him in the dark. However, when out in public, he wears a yellow silk suit embroidered with beautiful art. He has a thin face, dotted by two green eyes, and a thin mouth, that always appears to have a smug smile across it.

Personality: Blake is greedy And obsessed with treasure. He will stop at nothing to obtain his treasures and increase his wealth. And having been born into a wealthy family, he has more than a little wealth. Blake does have a heart however, and will remain loyal to people he considers friends. Those friends however are quite rare, as the very act of getting to know him is quite tough. He first killed a man at the age 16, and holds no reservations to killing his targets. In fact, he even enjoys the thrill of the hunt. To him, it’s just the job, and the means to obtaining his precious treasure.

Backstory: Born to wealthy merchant parents, Blake grew up quite spoiled, pretty much always getting anything he wanted. He slowly grew bored with everyday life as a result of getting everything he wanted, and around the age of 14, turned to thievery as a past time. Blake grew to love treasure in that time, and focused on stealing it. Rings, jewels, crowns. If it was treasure, Blake wanted it. He became decent at thievery, however, something was still missing.

Blake had gained some shady contacts in his time as a thief, but at the age of 16, one of them would change his life forever. An innkeeper within Blake’s city asked him to meet him that night at the inn to discuss a “job”. Blake met him as promised, expecting to be asked to steal something from somebody. But no, this was something different. The innkeeper was not looking for a thief, he was looking for a murderer.

The innkeeper told him about a customer of his. A local drunk who owed him quite a bit of money. The innkeeper, tired of not receiving his payment, asked the man killed, and all the money on him given to him. A part of Blake’s brain was screaming at him to get out of there. He was a thief, not a killer. However, he silenced it and asked the Innkeeper about payment. “Heh heh.” The innkeeper replied. “I knew you’d ask about payment sooner or later. I have a very valuable golden golden crown here. They say it belonged to a king many years ago.” Blake was doubtful of the accompanying story, but the crown was definitely real gold and he wanted it, whether it had belonged to a king or not.

Blake waited in the inn the next day, having the occasional drink and sitting in the back inconspicuously. As he planned, he appeared as nothing more than a customer. After hours, as the moon began to rise, the man who the innkeeper described left the inn. Blake waited until he was away from the building and followed him out. Blake planned to follow him across the city to his destination, but about halfway, the man turned around. “Who’s there?!” he shouted confused. The man suspected he was being followed, but in his drunken state, was unable to understand who might be following him or why he was being followed. Blake hid around the corner of the building out of his line of sight, holding his breath. When the man stopped looking and started walking again, deciding the alcohol must be messing with his brain, Blake let out a sigh of relief. It had been an incredibly close call, but he avoided being seen.

Rain began pouring from the sky and thunder blasted as Blake continued to follow. Finally, the man turned into an alley out of the way of anyone who may be watching. It was a perfect chance. Thunder boomed as the sky turned darker and the man began walking down the alley. Blake wait for him to get a little ways down then ran. The man turned around hearing the footsteps in the rain turned around, going wide-eyed, but before he could utter a sound Blake plunged his dagger through the man’s chest. The man fell over dead, and Blake removed the dagger, glistening red with blood. Then, kneeling over the dead body, he began to laugh. This is what was missing! Stealing was one thing, but the challenge of the hunt, the risk. It finally gave him the challenge he desired. He continued laughing louder, looking into the sky at the moon above. At the young age of 16, Blake Ferrinson had killed a man.

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