[Bio] Orion Montgomery
2 posters
Orion Montgomery- [tracker=/t2718-tracker-orion-montgomery#17682]
Name : Orion T. Montgomery
Age : 26
Height : 6'8"
Weight : 283 lbs
Species : Human
Faction : Pirate
Alliance : N/A
Crew : The Vintage Horde
Ship : N/A
Crew Role : Antiquarian
Devil Fruit : Arai Arai no Mi (Rough-Rough Fruit)
Bounty : [bel=r] 12,500,000
Quality Score : S+
Crew Pool : [bel=u] 15,000,000
Balance : [bel] 41,959,429
[[bookworm]][[hardboiled]][[dulcetvirtuoso]]
[[improviseadaptovercome]][[socialdistancing]]
Posts : 47
![[Bio] Orion Montgomery Empty](https://2img.net/i/empty.gif)
[Bio] Orion Montgomery
Mon Nov 13, 2023 1:57 pmOrion Triante Montgomery
![[Bio] Orion Montgomery Oneearedviking_26_year_old_man_with_green_hair_in_messy_ponytai_757fce5d-6118-484a-b3f5-5dae85331ee3](https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/1175175538281820172/1175228105804222534/oneearedviking_26_year_old_man_with_green_hair_in_messy_ponytai_757fce5d-6118-484a-b3f5-5dae85331ee3.png)
Basic Character Information
Forename: Orion
Middle Name/Initial: Triante
Surname: Montgomery
Epithet: TBD, Let the World Decide
Birthdate: December 27th, 1803.
Gender: Male
Species/Tribe: Human
Faction: Pirate
Profession:
Physical Appearance
Height: 6'8" [1.88 m]
Weight: 283lbs [128.4 kg]
Hair Style: Long hair, often done in a lazy pony or braided to keep out of the way. It is messy without any concern for appearance. Long simply from being unkept.
Hair Color: Light green bordering on shades of white.
Eye Color: Steel Blue
Scars: Nail marks around the neck. Back covered in whip scars.
Gear: Orion is dressed in a threadbare sleeveless and hooded duster than extends down to his knees. It was once a vibrant forest green but has since faded to a muted olive. He wears simple leather pants, patched, scratched and held up by a rope belt tied loosely around his waist. Shirts and shoes are the enemies of freedom. And a once gold pocket watch, worn by hands, is gingerly kept in interior pocket, the chain seen cuffed to the dusters lapel. A long black scarf covers his neck and extends nearly the length of his body. He wields a tall metal umbrella, the same length of his body, attached to a long chain he wraps around his arm.
Description: Orion is on the taller side for humans, however, not so tall as to stand out. His face is typically buried beneath a matt of his unkept long hair. He is of a leaner build, muscular but not unwieldy, with strength that seems geared to quick reflexes over brute bullheaded power.
Scars cover his neck and back, most covered by his duster and scarf. Those that peak out the holes of his duster are covered by an ornate series of clockwork gear and stylized antique machine tattoos that extend down his left arm in a complex sleeve.
His hair is often in the way, but too low priority to address. It is most often pulled back in a long pony or mixed with loose braids and tied with ribbon.
The Past
Main Traits: Direct. Politically Minded. Terrible with Money.
Likes: Puns, Dad jokes, Pizza, Freedom, Clutter and Knick-Knacks, Children, Farmer's Markets, and Handmade Crafts.
Dislikes: Birds, particularly pigeons. Rat's with wings, the lot of em. Spicy Food. Sugary Cocktails. Authority. People touching his collectibles. His Scars. Organized Crime.
Unique laugh: Wahaha!
Hometown: Spider Miles - Slums.
Personality: Orion is the type of person who can correctly read the room and then completely blunders through it because he is too defiant to care for social morays. A childhood of avoiding eye contact and unforeseen slights has left with him a sharp intuition but a rebellious apathy.
Cunning behind a smile, Orion prefers combat where he maintains some semblance of control or uses versatility and unpredictability to destabilize his opponent. He often tinkers with the limits of his devil fruit for that very effect. He is a calculating fighter who tries to stay calm and not be ruled by his temper, despite its many triggers.
- History:
"Street rat. Scum. Trash."
My first memories of childhood were filled with those words. I remember eyes filled with scorn as I begged for small change or fleeced market stalls for rotten food.
How is my story any different from anyone else's past tragedies? It probably isn't, but it's mine.
Life on the streets of Spider Miles is hard and fast. I didn't get to consider the consequences of my actions. One more day was always the goal. Morality, I've found, is a luxury for those with enough to feed the pigeons.
If you live long enough in the piss and shit, scraping by on trash and piddling charity. The Dons of Spider Miles and their families will pick you up. It starts off as odd jobs, pickpocket here, vandalism, and theft there, before they really bring you into the fold. I'd trade all the food and shelter in the world to avoid what happens next.
---
Don Papa Dom and his syndicate pulled me from the streets at the age of six. Like most crime families, they throw you in with children of similar age and talents. Together, we formed something of our own. I remember them all; Archie, Dawn, Theodore, Lucifred, Bella May and Juliana. For two meals a day and a roof over our head, we did anything they asked. Dangerous jobs were like child's play to Archie's genius. He became something of a leader to us, and a big brother. I aspired to be like him.
We became a well oiled machine, and knew our roles well. Calm under pressure, with quick reflexes and quicker hands, I found my place as the teams hands. By age ten, we were pulling off jobs in Spider Miles that turned heads. It landed us under the attention of one man, Doc Van-Dyke...
"Welcome to your new home. Papa Dom has great expectations for you under my tutelage!"
It started innocently enough; physicals, aptitudes tests, and measurements of our capabilities.
Theodore was the first to go.
"It's gross...." I complained, staring at a strange fruit filling up the plate.
A large palm on the back of my head, and a face shoved into the fruit was what I received in response. "Eat it all up, children!"
That night the screaming started. Awoken by Theodore's wails of fear, it shook the walls of our shared room. I'd come to learn later that what we consumed was called a Devil Fruit, and Theodore's transition was particularly violent. He blasted himself through a wall, and away into the streets of Spider Miles. Staring at the hole in the wall left in his wake, none of us followed. We never saw him again.
From then on the whisper thin facade of the Doc wilted like paper on a fire. Quickly our "tests" were perverted into something akin to torture. Poking and prodding the limits of our endurance, resistance, and mind.
A memory stands out.
"F..Fuck..fucking pigeons." I chafed out through choking sobs.
The open wounds on my back barely soothed--but something--by the cool floor of our prison cell. And it was a prison cell, the Doc was not one to make the same mistake twice and had in short order shoved us in a room of stone that made me feel woozy. Barren, save for a single window that showed the smallest patch of the night sky. In it two pigeons hopped about in cruel mockery.
"Hehe..oww" Archie laughed before wincing. His head rests near mine as we lay upon the barren stone staring out that small window.
"You've always hated pigeons."
"Tch. They can be anywhere. Go anywhere. Yet they choose here, watching us. Evil."
Perhaps it was a childish obsession at birth of encroaching madness, but I watched those sky-rats well into the night, long after they flew away. Within me something shifted, a blinding clench of heat suffused my limbs and was forged into a steadying resolve. I, too, would be free to be anywhere. To go ANYWHERE. And when I am there, I will stare down at the Pigeons, and choose to watch them.
---
"Do...do it." I can barely make out Archie above me, his knees on my arms, as his hands clench tight around my neck. I can almost feel the slow trickle as his nails dig in.
My resolve carried me through the next of our trials. As one by one my siblings, bonded in suffering, broke under the Doc's relentlessness. After Bella May was taken away, I stopped wondering where they went. I knew. I suppose I always did.
All broke but me. Me and Archie.
This was to be our final trial said the Doc. The victor can stand under the light of sun once again. At this, my resolve wavered. Archie before me, my brother was the best of us.
His eyes soaked with rivers of tears was the last I saw before all went black.
---
I'm unfamiliar with what happens next, considering I was unconscious. I'm told whatever trash heap the syndicate through my body in was being passed by a man, who I suppose... would become my father figure, and his entourage and a serendipitous moment.
I awoke to the smell of clean sheets and soft cotton down. My neck and other wounds treated and bandaged. Now, usually, this would be a clear indication that my situation had changed, but I didn't have Archie's brain.
I fled. My emaciated body and thief talents were particularly useful for moving quietly, however in this case I think they probably just created a misunderstanding.
"INTRUDER SLAP!!!!!" A large hand, easily the size my entire body, sending me back to unconsciousness was how I met the man, Nato Bon'afide.
It's funny how quickly, when deprived of kindness, how one seemingly innocuous act can become the pillar supporting the rest of your life. I latched on to Nato and his world, and how swift the trauma of my past became background noise to the rose tinted melody of my present.
Nato Bon'afide, is a boisterous man, slap happy at the worst of times, and recklessly destructive at the best. Part giant, I think, to describe those hands. His purple hair bounced crazily in tandem with the whimsy of his trademark moustache. Strange fashion choices aside, that didn't hide his shrewd mind though, and he fashioned himself a merchant by trade, an Antiquarian by passion.
I never understood why he took me in, but he kept to raising me with the same passion he approached to everything. Eternally, I am grateful. The remainder of my childhood became a whirlwind of travel about the North Blue, an education, and watching Nati slap his way through fatherhood. Slaps of love.
---
"But why do I have to go?" I dug my heels in.
"Boy, you must run. I don't know what we did to earn Don Papa Dom's ire, but if they find you, you'll be recognized and I won't be able to protect you in Spider Miles."
"Stupid old man, I've gotten strong!" I flexed. "I've got so much more control over the Devil Fruit now!"
"STUPID SLAPPPP!" Nato belted, and I flinched only for a gently pat on the cheek to greet my closed eyes.
"You are strong, boy." Nato leveled his gaze at mine, and that look spoke a thousand words.
"Where will I go? What will I do?"
Spider Miles and the surrounding islands is all I have ever known.
"Hoh hoh! Collect some things for your dear ole Nato? hmm?" He stuffs a paper and pocket watch into the inside pocket of my duster.
"BE FREE SLAP!" With a love slap and a push forward, I stepped out into the world.
Gray
[tracker=/t131-tracker-gray-starks#504]
Name : Gray
Epithet : "The Conqueror"; "Black Fist"
Age : 49
Height : 10'2" (310 cm)
Weight : 1043 lbs (473 kg)
Species : Cyborg Human
Faction : Pirate
World Position : Lurking Legend (Former Yonkou)
Crew : Black Fist Pirates (Destroyed)
Ship : Sangria's Vane (Destroyed)
Crew Role : Captain (Former)
Devil Fruit : Pressure-Pressure Fruit
Bounty : [ber=r] 5,000,000,000
EXP Bonus : +0.20 (to all allies)
Income Bonus : +0.20
Shop Discount : -30%
Balance : [bel] 25,000,000,000
[[strollingdeath]][[baneoftheweak]][[riseandshine]][[childofdestiny]][[freakofnature]]
[[punchoutguru]][[dulcetvirtuoso]]
[[improviseadaptovercome]]
Posts : 3885
Re: [Bio] Orion Montgomery
Mon Nov 13, 2023 3:33 pm[warn]
I really like the bio overall! The history was very well-written. The first-person perspective was an interesting choice and executed effectively.
I just have one hangup that I must insist you amend before I can approve the bio though. I would like you to make Orion a human. As per his bio, him being an oni has absolutely no relevance - and his particular brand of horn simply doesn't exist in our universe (and frankly, I just don't like it).
[/warn]
I really like the bio overall! The history was very well-written. The first-person perspective was an interesting choice and executed effectively.
I just have one hangup that I must insist you amend before I can approve the bio though. I would like you to make Orion a human. As per his bio, him being an oni has absolutely no relevance - and his particular brand of horn simply doesn't exist in our universe (and frankly, I just don't like it).
[/warn]
Orion Montgomery wrote:Orion Triante Montgomery
Basic Character Information
Forename: Orion
Middle Name/Initial: Triante
Surname: Montgomery
Epithet: TBD, Let the World Decide
Birthdate: December 27th, 1803.
Gender: Male
Species/Tribe: Human/Oni
Faction: Pirate
Profession:Thief(Quit), Antiquarian
Physical Appearance
Height: 6'8" [1.88 m]
Weight: 283lbs [128.4 kg]
Hair Style: Long hair, often done in a lazy pony or braided to keep out of the way. It is messy without any concern for appearance. Long simply from being unkept.
Hair Color: Light green bordering on shades of white.
Eye Color: Steel Blue
Scars: Nail marks around the neck. Back covered in whip scars.
Gear: Orion is dressed in a threadbare sleeveless and hooded duster than extends down to his knees. It was once a vibrant forest green but has since faded to a muted olive. He wears simple leather pants, patched, scratched and held up by a rope belt tied loosely around his waist. Shirts and shoes are the enemies of freedom. And a once gold pocket watch, worn by hands, is gingerly kept in interior pocket, the chain seen cuffed to the dusters lapel. A long black scarf covers his neck and extends nearly the length of his body. He wields a tall metal umbrella, the same length of his body, attached to a long chain he wraps around his arm.
Description: Orion is on the taller side for humans, however, not so tall as to stand out. A single Oni horn, chipped and scarred, grows in a jagged curve over his left eye. It is typically buried beneath a matt of his unkept long hair. He is of a leaner build, muscular but not unwieldy, with strength that seems geared to quick reflexes over brute bullheaded power.
Scars cover his neck and back, most covered by his duster and scarf. Those that peak out the holes of his duster are covered by an ornate series of clockwork gear and stylized antique machine tattoos that extend down his left arm in a complex sleeve.
His hair is often in the way, but too low priority to address. It is most often pulled back in a long pony or mixed with loose braids and tied with ribbon.
The Past
Main Traits: Direct. Politically Minded. Terrible with Money.
Likes: Puns, Dad jokes, Pizza, Freedom, Clutter and Knick-Knacks, Children, Farmer's Markets, and Handmade Crafts.
Dislikes: Birds, particularly pigeons. Rat's with wings, the lot of em. Spicy Food. Sugary Cocktails. Authority. People touching his collectibles. His Scars. Organized Crime.
Unique laugh: Wahaha!
Hometown: Spider Miles - Slums.
Personality: Orion is the type of person who can correctly read the room and then completely blunders through it because he is too defiant to care for social morays. A childhood of avoiding eye contact and unforeseen slights has left with him a sharp intuition but a rebellious apathy.
Cunning behind a smile, Orion prefers combat where he maintains some semblance of control or uses versatility and unpredictability to destabilize his opponent. He often tinkers with the limits of his devil fruit for that very effect. He is a calculating fighter who tries to stay calm and not be ruled by his temper, despite its many triggers.
- History:
"Street rat. Scum. Trash."
My first memories of childhood were filled with those words. I remember eyes filled with scorn as I begged for small change or fleeced market stalls for rotten food.
How is my story any different from anyone else's past tragedies? It probably isn't, but it's mine.
Life on the streets of Spider Miles is hard and fast. I didn't get to consider the consequences of my actions. One more day was always the goal. Morality, I've found, is a luxury for those with enough to feed the pigeons.
If you live long enough in the piss and shit, scraping by on trash and piddling charity. The Dons of Spider Miles and their families will pick you up. It starts off as odd jobs, pickpocket here, vandalism, and theft there, before they really bring you into the fold. I'd trade all the food and shelter in the world to avoid what happens next.
---
Don Papa Dom and his syndicate pulled me from the streets at the age of six. Like most crime families, they throw you in with children of similar age and talents. Together, we formed something of our own. I remember them all; Archie, Dawn, Theodore, Lucifred, Bella May and Juliana. For two meals a day and a roof over our head, we did anything they asked. Dangerous jobs were like child's play to Archie's genius. He became something of a leader to us, and a big brother. I aspired to be like him.
We became a well oiled machine, and knew our roles well. Calm under pressure, with quick reflexes and quicker hands, I found my place as the teams hands. By age ten, we were pulling off jobs in Spider Miles that turned heads. It landed us under the attention of one man, Doc Van-Dyke...
"Welcome to your new home. Papa Dom has great expectations for you under my tutelage!"
It started innocently enough; physicals, aptitudes tests, and measurements of our capabilities.
Theodore was the first to go.
"It's gross...." I complained, staring at a strange fruit filling up the plate.
A large palm on the back of my head, and a face shoved into the fruit was what I received in response. "Eat it all up, children!"
That night the screaming started. Awoken by Theodore's wails of fear, it shook the walls of our shared room. I'd come to learn later that what we consumed was called a Devil Fruit, and Theodore's transition was particularly violent. He blasted himself through a wall, and away into the streets of Spider Miles. Staring at the hole in the wall left in his wake, none of us followed. We never saw him again.
From then on the whisper thin facade of the Doc wilted like paper on a fire. Quickly our "tests" were perverted into something akin to torture. Poking and prodding the limits of our endurance, resistance, and mind.
A memory stands out.
"F..Fuck..fucking pigeons." I chafed out through choking sobs.
The open wounds on my back barely soothed--but something--by the cool floor of our prison cell. And it was a prison cell, the Doc was not one to make the same mistake twice and had in short order shoved us in a room of stone that made me feel woozy. Barren, save for a single window that showed the smallest patch of the night sky. In it two pigeons hopped about in cruel mockery.
"Hehe..oww" Archie laughed before wincing. His head rests near mine as we lay upon the barren stone staring out that small window.
"You've always hated pigeons."
"Tch. They can be anywhere. Go anywhere. Yet they choose here, watching us. Evil."
Perhaps it was a childish obsession at birth of encroaching madness, but I watched those sky-rats well into the night, long after they flew away. Within me something shifted, a blinding clench of heat suffused my limbs and was forged into a steadying resolve. I, too, would be free to be anywhere. To go ANYWHERE. And when I am there, I will stare down at the Pigeons, and choose to watch them.
---
"Do...do it." I can barely make out Archie above me, his knees on my arms, as his hands clench tight around my neck. I can almost feel the slow trickle as his nails dig in.
My resolve carried me through the next of our trials. As one by one my siblings, bonded in suffering, broke under the Doc's relentlessness. After Bella May was taken away, I stopped wondering where they went. I knew. I suppose I always did.
All broke but me. Me and Archie.
This was to be our final trial said the Doc. The victor can stand under the light of sun once again. At this, my resolve wavered. Archie before me, my brother was the best of us.
His eyes soaked with rivers of tears was the last I saw before all went black.
---
I'm unfamiliar with what happens next, considering I was unconscious. I'm told whatever trash heap the syndicate through my body in was being passed by a man, who I suppose... would become my father figure, and his entourage and a serendipitous moment.
I awoke to the smell of clean sheets and soft cotton down. My neck and other wounds treated and bandaged. Now, usually, this would be a clear indication that my situation had changed, but I didn't have Archie's brain.
I fled. My emaciated body and thief talents were particularly useful for moving quietly, however in this case I think they probably just created a misunderstanding.
"INTRUDER SLAP!!!!!" A large hand, easily the size my entire body, sending me back to unconsciousness was how I met the man, Nato Bon'afide.
It's funny how quickly, when deprived of kindness, how one seemingly innocuous act can become the pillar supporting the rest of your life. I latched on to Nato and his world, and how swift the trauma of my past became background noise to the rose tinted melody of my present.
Nato Bon'afide, is a boisterous man, slap happy at the worst of times, and recklessly destructive at the best. Part giant, I think, to describe those hands. His purple hair bounced crazily in tandem with the whimsy of his trademark moustache. Strange fashion choices aside, that didn't hide his shrewd mind though, and he fashioned himself a merchant by trade, an Antiquarian by passion.
I never understood why he took me in, but he kept to raising me with the same passion he approached to everything. Eternally, I am grateful. The remainder of my childhood became a whirlwind of travel about the North Blue, an education, and watching Nati slap his way through fatherhood. Slaps of love.
---
"But why do I have to go?" I dug my heels in.
"Boy, you must run. I don't know what we did to earn Don Papa Dom's ire, but if they find you, you'll be recognized and I won't be able to protect you in Spider Miles."
"Stupid old man, I've gotten strong!" I flexed. "I've got so much more control over the Devil Fruit now!"
"STUPID SLAPPPP!" Nato belted, and I flinched only for a gently pat on the cheek to greet my closed eyes.
"You are strong, boy." Nato leveled his gaze at mine, and that look spoke a thousand words.
"Where will I go? What will I do?"
Spider Miles and the surrounding islands is all I have ever known.
"Hoh hoh! Collect some things for your dear ole Nato? hmm?" He stuffs a paper and pocket watch into the inside pocket of my duster.
"BE FREE SLAP!" With a love slap and a push forward, I stepped out into the world.
![[Bio] Orion Montgomery Pokemon__n_by_princekara_d3hkrjh-414w-2x.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9NDI4IiwicGF0aCI6IlwvZlwvMDhhN2RhMjYtNTAxYy00OWJmLTg5Y2MtYTdlNjM1ZjY2YmZhXC9kM2hrcmpoLTM2MTVhZDA3LTUxYWMtNDRiOC1hMWEwLTNkY2Q2YzJlYThjNy5wbmciLCJ3aWR0aCI6Ijw9ODAwIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmltYWdlLm9wZXJhdGlvbnMiXX0](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/08a7da26-501c-49bf-89cc-a7e635f66bfa/d3hkrjh-3615ad07-51ac-44b8-a1a0-3dcd6c2ea8c7.png/v1/fit/w_800,h_428,q_70,strp/pokemon__n_by_princekara_d3hkrjh-414w-2x.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9NDI4IiwicGF0aCI6IlwvZlwvMDhhN2RhMjYtNTAxYy00OWJmLTg5Y2MtYTdlNjM1ZjY2YmZhXC9kM2hrcmpoLTM2MTVhZDA3LTUxYWMtNDRiOC1hMWEwLTNkY2Q2YzJlYThjNy5wbmciLCJ3aWR0aCI6Ijw9ODAwIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmltYWdlLm9wZXJhdGlvbnMiXX0.i6HxdS9hvShf5X5YcMo9lH9VboVY0I5SP4TjR6KXjuw)
- Gray
[tracker=/t131-tracker-gray-starks#504]
Name : Gray
Epithet : "The Conqueror"; "Black Fist"
Age : 49
Height : 10'2" (310 cm)
Weight : 1043 lbs (473 kg)
Species : Cyborg Human
Faction : Pirate
World Position : Lurking Legend (Former Yonkou)
Crew : Black Fist Pirates (Destroyed)
Ship : Sangria's Vane (Destroyed)
Crew Role : Captain (Former)
Devil Fruit : Pressure-Pressure Fruit
Bounty : [ber=r] 5,000,000,000
EXP Bonus : +0.20 (to all allies)
Income Bonus : +0.20
Shop Discount : -30%
Balance : [bel] 25,000,000,000
[[strollingdeath]][[baneoftheweak]][[riseandshine]][[childofdestiny]][[freakofnature]]
[[punchoutguru]][[dulcetvirtuoso]]
[[improviseadaptovercome]]
Posts : 3885
Re: [Bio] Orion Montgomery
Mon Nov 13, 2023 3:40 pm[approve]Spider Miles spits out another orphan![/approve]
Orion Montgomery wrote:Orion Triante Montgomery
Basic Character Information
Forename: Orion
Middle Name/Initial: Triante
Surname: Montgomery
Epithet: TBD, Let the World Decide
Birthdate: December 27th, 1803.
Gender: Male
Species/Tribe: Human
Faction: Pirate
Profession:Thief(Quit), Antiquarian
Physical Appearance
Height: 6'8" [1.88 m]
Weight: 283lbs [128.4 kg]
Hair Style: Long hair, often done in a lazy pony or braided to keep out of the way. It is messy without any concern for appearance. Long simply from being unkept.
Hair Color: Light green bordering on shades of white.
Eye Color: Steel Blue
Scars: Nail marks around the neck. Back covered in whip scars.
Gear: Orion is dressed in a threadbare sleeveless and hooded duster than extends down to his knees. It was once a vibrant forest green but has since faded to a muted olive. He wears simple leather pants, patched, scratched and held up by a rope belt tied loosely around his waist. Shirts and shoes are the enemies of freedom. And a once gold pocket watch, worn by hands, is gingerly kept in interior pocket, the chain seen cuffed to the dusters lapel. A long black scarf covers his neck and extends nearly the length of his body. He wields a tall metal umbrella, the same length of his body, attached to a long chain he wraps around his arm.
Description: Orion is on the taller side for humans, however, not so tall as to stand out. His face is typically buried beneath a matt of his unkept long hair. He is of a leaner build, muscular but not unwieldy, with strength that seems geared to quick reflexes over brute bullheaded power.
Scars cover his neck and back, most covered by his duster and scarf. Those that peak out the holes of his duster are covered by an ornate series of clockwork gear and stylized antique machine tattoos that extend down his left arm in a complex sleeve.
His hair is often in the way, but too low priority to address. It is most often pulled back in a long pony or mixed with loose braids and tied with ribbon.
The Past
Main Traits: Direct. Politically Minded. Terrible with Money.
Likes: Puns, Dad jokes, Pizza, Freedom, Clutter and Knick-Knacks, Children, Farmer's Markets, and Handmade Crafts.
Dislikes: Birds, particularly pigeons. Rat's with wings, the lot of em. Spicy Food. Sugary Cocktails. Authority. People touching his collectibles. His Scars. Organized Crime.
Unique laugh: Wahaha!
Hometown: Spider Miles - Slums.
Personality: Orion is the type of person who can correctly read the room and then completely blunders through it because he is too defiant to care for social morays. A childhood of avoiding eye contact and unforeseen slights has left with him a sharp intuition but a rebellious apathy.
Cunning behind a smile, Orion prefers combat where he maintains some semblance of control or uses versatility and unpredictability to destabilize his opponent. He often tinkers with the limits of his devil fruit for that very effect. He is a calculating fighter who tries to stay calm and not be ruled by his temper, despite its many triggers.
- History:
"Street rat. Scum. Trash."
My first memories of childhood were filled with those words. I remember eyes filled with scorn as I begged for small change or fleeced market stalls for rotten food.
How is my story any different from anyone else's past tragedies? It probably isn't, but it's mine.
Life on the streets of Spider Miles is hard and fast. I didn't get to consider the consequences of my actions. One more day was always the goal. Morality, I've found, is a luxury for those with enough to feed the pigeons.
If you live long enough in the piss and shit, scraping by on trash and piddling charity. The Dons of Spider Miles and their families will pick you up. It starts off as odd jobs, pickpocket here, vandalism, and theft there, before they really bring you into the fold. I'd trade all the food and shelter in the world to avoid what happens next.
---
Don Papa Dom and his syndicate pulled me from the streets at the age of six. Like most crime families, they throw you in with children of similar age and talents. Together, we formed something of our own. I remember them all; Archie, Dawn, Theodore, Lucifred, Bella May and Juliana. For two meals a day and a roof over our head, we did anything they asked. Dangerous jobs were like child's play to Archie's genius. He became something of a leader to us, and a big brother. I aspired to be like him.
We became a well oiled machine, and knew our roles well. Calm under pressure, with quick reflexes and quicker hands, I found my place as the teams hands. By age ten, we were pulling off jobs in Spider Miles that turned heads. It landed us under the attention of one man, Doc Van-Dyke...
"Welcome to your new home. Papa Dom has great expectations for you under my tutelage!"
It started innocently enough; physicals, aptitudes tests, and measurements of our capabilities.
Theodore was the first to go.
"It's gross...." I complained, staring at a strange fruit filling up the plate.
A large palm on the back of my head, and a face shoved into the fruit was what I received in response. "Eat it all up, children!"
That night the screaming started. Awoken by Theodore's wails of fear, it shook the walls of our shared room. I'd come to learn later that what we consumed was called a Devil Fruit, and Theodore's transition was particularly violent. He blasted himself through a wall, and away into the streets of Spider Miles. Staring at the hole in the wall left in his wake, none of us followed. We never saw him again.
From then on the whisper thin facade of the Doc wilted like paper on a fire. Quickly our "tests" were perverted into something akin to torture. Poking and prodding the limits of our endurance, resistance, and mind.
A memory stands out.
"F..Fuck..fucking pigeons." I chafed out through choking sobs.
The open wounds on my back barely soothed--but something--by the cool floor of our prison cell. And it was a prison cell, the Doc was not one to make the same mistake twice and had in short order shoved us in a room of stone that made me feel woozy. Barren, save for a single window that showed the smallest patch of the night sky. In it two pigeons hopped about in cruel mockery.
"Hehe..oww" Archie laughed before wincing. His head rests near mine as we lay upon the barren stone staring out that small window.
"You've always hated pigeons."
"Tch. They can be anywhere. Go anywhere. Yet they choose here, watching us. Evil."
Perhaps it was a childish obsession at birth of encroaching madness, but I watched those sky-rats well into the night, long after they flew away. Within me something shifted, a blinding clench of heat suffused my limbs and was forged into a steadying resolve. I, too, would be free to be anywhere. To go ANYWHERE. And when I am there, I will stare down at the Pigeons, and choose to watch them.
---
"Do...do it." I can barely make out Archie above me, his knees on my arms, as his hands clench tight around my neck. I can almost feel the slow trickle as his nails dig in.
My resolve carried me through the next of our trials. As one by one my siblings, bonded in suffering, broke under the Doc's relentlessness. After Bella May was taken away, I stopped wondering where they went. I knew. I suppose I always did.
All broke but me. Me and Archie.
This was to be our final trial said the Doc. The victor can stand under the light of sun once again. At this, my resolve wavered. Archie before me, my brother was the best of us.
His eyes soaked with rivers of tears was the last I saw before all went black.
---
I'm unfamiliar with what happens next, considering I was unconscious. I'm told whatever trash heap the syndicate through my body in was being passed by a man, who I suppose... would become my father figure, and his entourage and a serendipitous moment.
I awoke to the smell of clean sheets and soft cotton down. My neck and other wounds treated and bandaged. Now, usually, this would be a clear indication that my situation had changed, but I didn't have Archie's brain.
I fled. My emaciated body and thief talents were particularly useful for moving quietly, however in this case I think they probably just created a misunderstanding.
"INTRUDER SLAP!!!!!" A large hand, easily the size my entire body, sending me back to unconsciousness was how I met the man, Nato Bon'afide.
It's funny how quickly, when deprived of kindness, how one seemingly innocuous act can become the pillar supporting the rest of your life. I latched on to Nato and his world, and how swift the trauma of my past became background noise to the rose tinted melody of my present.
Nato Bon'afide, is a boisterous man, slap happy at the worst of times, and recklessly destructive at the best. Part giant, I think, to describe those hands. His purple hair bounced crazily in tandem with the whimsy of his trademark moustache. Strange fashion choices aside, that didn't hide his shrewd mind though, and he fashioned himself a merchant by trade, an Antiquarian by passion.
I never understood why he took me in, but he kept to raising me with the same passion he approached to everything. Eternally, I am grateful. The remainder of my childhood became a whirlwind of travel about the North Blue, an education, and watching Nati slap his way through fatherhood. Slaps of love.
---
"But why do I have to go?" I dug my heels in.
"Boy, you must run. I don't know what we did to earn Don Papa Dom's ire, but if they find you, you'll be recognized and I won't be able to protect you in Spider Miles."
"Stupid old man, I've gotten strong!" I flexed. "I've got so much more control over the Devil Fruit now!"
"STUPID SLAPPPP!" Nato belted, and I flinched only for a gently pat on the cheek to greet my closed eyes.
"You are strong, boy." Nato leveled his gaze at mine, and that look spoke a thousand words.
"Where will I go? What will I do?"
Spider Miles and the surrounding islands is all I have ever known.
"Hoh hoh! Collect some things for your dear ole Nato? hmm?" He stuffs a paper and pocket watch into the inside pocket of my duster.
"BE FREE SLAP!" With a love slap and a push forward, I stepped out into the world.
Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
