1. Name of Character in The World- D5Specialist
2. Name of Real World Player- Tel Ashahura
3. Age- Life - 32, game- 25 (everyone wants to shave off a few years... >.>)
4. Class- Heavy Blade
5. Eye color- Steel Blue
6. Hair color- Stark White
7. Height- 6' even
8. Clothing- Prefers to wear a black traveler's cloak which covers his entire body, save for the opening in the front where the two ends of the cloak meet. The ends are tied together at the neck with a small black rope. Underneath, he has a pair of black pants with elastic where they end at his ankles. His socks are white. He wears combat boots, due to the high functionality for both weather and, well, combat. He wears a black shirt, or at least it seems like a shirt, save that it is missing any form of sleeves. The top of his pants and bottom of his shirt are concealed by a black sash. While his traveler's cloak does have a black hood attached, it often hangs behind him, due to the fact he believes wearing it constricts his vision.

9. Personality - He is a veteran who was retired from service due to a high occurance of a "berserker" syndrome. That is to say, under high stress, he forgets what the words defend, ally, and enemy mean, and just attacks with no regard for anyone's safety, including his own. It is a genetic disorder, but very rare, since it has no generational pattern and skips more often than afflicts. His personality is highly functionalist, believing that above appeal comes effectiveness. He does not do well with conceited individuals, and laughs at blatant stupidity. While not the best with snappy comebacks, he is very sarcastic and quite capable of belittling. Still, when he isn't going berserk, he is very caring towards comrades.

10.Weapon/Armor and Skills-
Head - Bandana (Repth)
Arm - Wristbands (Juk Rom)
Body - Leather Coat (Gan Zot)
Feet - sandals
Weapon - Adventurer (Death Bringer)
11. How he found the world:

It had been exactly thirty-seven days since Tel had been discharged. He knew that was the right term, even though everyone he had talked to or had been involved in the process called it “early retirement.” He knew better. His life on the battlefield had been a mess. While he had never killed any allies, he had wounded several, and he had only seen pictures while he was carried off by two burly military policemen of the atrocious acts he had done to his foes.

Tel sat in his wooden dining chair, head down and brown hair shielding his face from the world. His elbows were planted on his knees, and his arms crossed unintentionally between his legs. He was miserable, that much was certain. The morning paper sat on the table. He had only gotten to the point of bringing it in and sitting down. Still, he decided, no point in wasting life away moping. He sits up, places his back flat against the 4 wooden posts that composed the support structure of the back of the chair, and grabs the top section, pulling it open with much fluttering of pages, and sparing no glance at the front page.

This morning was about as normal as any. Tel had gotten a job at a local warehouse, where his strength and discipline gained him favor in the eyes of the supervisor. Tel had gotten pretty good at reading people, so when he had first met the supervisor after getting the job, he knew the supervisor did not know why Tel was relieved of his military career. There was no fear in the man's eyes. Still, while the work paid enough for Tel to live alone, it didn't take up as much of his time as he wanted it to. Tel had a very sharp wit, but it was too sharp, and when he didn't keep himself occupied, he would often allow himself to think very negatively of what ever came to mind. Over all, though, he was quite certain that his life was outwardly the semblance of “normal,” as many people would define the word.

He read through the paper in the thirty minutes he allotted himself. None of the stories ever really caught his eye. All of the positive stories were often “over done” or “too false” for his taste. On the other hand, all of the depressing stories always drew the comment “been there, done that” from him. “Honestly,” he muttered, “I don't even know why I read this junk anymore.” He promptly set the newspapers in the cardboard box next to his front door. Five minutes later, he was back at the same spot, dressed for work. From what he had seen on television, getting his jeans, tank top and Steel-Toed boots on in that amount of time was incredible. In actuality, though, Tel believed both that you can't trust television, and that the reason he could do so was that he got his outfit ready the night before. Tel grabbed his duffel bag, opened the door and stepped outside into the bright sunshine.

His warehouse wasn't far, so Tel would always walk to it. He lived in a medium sized urban neighborhood on the outskirts of town. It was far enough away from town to avoid the horrible traffic congestion, but close enough that commercial shopping outlets were quite common, as well as a few industrial sites. Tel walked down the main sidewalk, staring at the ground and wondering what he would do with himself from now on. It was a question that had plagued him ever since he had been “retired.” He knew the route well enough that he didn't have to look up as he walked, plus he always went to work excessively early just for the sake of doing it, so the sidewalks were empty of other citizens. It was just a typical morning of a typical day. “My life is dull as hell,” he muttered to himself.

WHAM! Tel stumbled back a few steps while the impact registered. He had just walked straight into something. From the way the impact felt, the object was heavy, and although the surface he came in contact with felt paper-like, there was a round metal post behind it. He cursed aloud. “That's not supposed to be there!” As he did so, he felt his nose and wiped under it. The bone was not broken and no blood was coming out of it. He breathed a sigh of relief, seeing as if he had broken his nose, he may not have been allowed to work. Just thinking about the possibility made him shiver unconsciously. Tel then looked up and what he had ran into for the first time. It was a sign, and as he began to read it over more carefully, it was an advertisement for some hot game that was being sold inside the store that owned the sign. He chuckled to himself, and started to say, “What a waste of ti-” when he suddenly read the last line on the sign. “Create a new life on the web!” He was immediately interested, seeing as his current real life was too dull to be worth anything in his book. I may as well try it, he thought. If nothing else it will waste some of this time that I seem to have too much of. He immediately walked in the store, which was already open, much to his surprise, and purchased a copy of this game “The World.” He then stuffed the game into his duffel bag and headed off to work.

After a normal and uninteresting day at work, Tel got home and ate dinner in thirty minutes, allowing him to eat both quickly so as to not waste time, and yet slow enough that he did not get prematurely stuffed. He then cleared the table, cleaned his dishes, and placed them back in the cupboard. He then proceeded to walk into the living room and unzip his duffel bag, pulling out the game he had purchased. He moved into his study room, in which he had a decent computer set up for various tasks from watching videos and reading web blogs to writing and sending emails. He opened the package, and pulled out the controller and headset. Having been a technical expert during his service, he wasted no time in plugging both in and setting up the game. A screen popped up, prompting him to create a name and password. “Name, eh,” he muttered, “Let's see, I was in delta squadron, my designation number in that squad was five...how about D5Specialist? As for the pass word...” His mumbling slowly slipped out of audible range. Once he had finished entering those, he chose continue. A menu popped up prompting him with several options. “Let's not waste time,” he exclaimed, and promptly chose start.