Name: Prometheus
Abilities: Extremely intelligent. Exceptional abilities of foresight, even in the heat of battle. Has been seen to predict the actions of others with absolute certainty.
Weakness: Weak in close ranged combat. In order to be quick and mobile, he does not normally wear armor.
About/story: Born in Inamorta as an archidon. Was trained by his father in the art of stealth and archery at a young age. Quickly became the best shot in the town, able to shoot down eagles from a range of over 35 meters. At the age of 16, he was hired to assassinate the dictatorial king of Order Empire, and succeeded. His identity would never have been revealed as the murderer of the king had not his brother Epimethius thoughtlessly reported Prometheus to the authorities. Prometheus was quickly found and imprisoned. Now, 2 years later, he has escaped, and become a rogue assassin.
Personality: Is usually silent, but is always thinking and planning. Knows when it is the time to act, and takes action quickly and swiftly. Focuses on being quick, and unseen. Is extremely clever, and takes pleasure in tricking people or engaging in a battle of wits.
Appearance: Slim, 18 year old male, always wears a robe. Is never seen for long enough to get a clear view of what he looks like.
Demo:
My name is Prometheus. I write this in the solitary confinement of my cell, in the hopes that someone may read it someday. At the time of writing, this day marks the end of the second year of my imprisonment. Of course, it was my choice to stay here; I could have escaped two years ago.
Allow me to explain. Escaping would hardly be difficult; I deduced each of the guard's loyalties to the warden on the very first day. If I wanted out, I'd just have to have a little chat with the one that is always patrolling the cells. He conceals his identity as a spy fairly well, by overcompensating in strictness and frequently intimidating the prisoners. Alas, he's not very intelligent; his fervent glances at the other guards and frequent requests to leave the building tell me that his loyalty resides elsewhere.
Although they have stripped me of my bow, arrows, and quiver, I am not completely void of weaponry. At a young age, my father taught me how to pick pockets (I still remember his voice: "take two fingers: reach in, pinch, reach out."). Over the years, I have acquired a large and ever-growing arsenal of daggers, shurikens, and poison capsules, as well as enough sticks to construct my own bow and arrows.
The reason I have chosen to remain confined in this 3x5 meter prison cell within which I now reside is to plan, and to wait. Over the past 2 years, I have been reading the news that the guards pick up every day and skim through; I have come to know that everywone who knew me previously either thinks I no longer exist or has died.
Thus, I find that at the current moment, the conditions for my escape could not be more perfect.
Prison log:
New entry 2013/3/29 11:09: Ten guards inexplicably collapse after returning from their coffee break. Fifteen were shot in the throat with projectiles unknown. Twenty collapsed with severed jugulars. Perpetrator unknown.
New entry 2013/3/29 15:27: Prisoner 134 found missing from cell. Notifying police.
New entry 2013/3/29 15:34: Main entrance was laced with a cyanide trap. All responding police died. Building placed in quarantine.
New entry 2013/3/29 15:40: A man was found in prison cell 134. How this man got there is unknown. The man calls himself "Epimethius."
Points: W/T/L = 0/0/0