Name: Maxwell

Age: 16

Gender: male

Race: Human

Class: Archer

Stat: Attack-4 Speed-4 Agility-6(+6) Defense-3 Magic-0 Strength-2 Stealth-6

Clan: Moonquake

Weapon: Long Bow Attack-30 Speed-13

Sp Attack: Longshot (User shoots from afar with extreme accuracy and distance and peirces body part of choice.) Attack-30 Speed-13

Description: Black hair, Brown eyes, around 5'6". Wears light armor that covers his shoulders and torso. he keeps a dagger in his left boot for close incounters. Under his armor he wears black pants and shirt.(adds to his stealth)

Personality: Independent>Quiet around others. In battle he stays in the back and shoots from afar. He makes few friends. Likes to gamble. Does not like to be the center of attention.

Origin: Mother was a common housewife, Father was an assasin who worked for minimum wage. He grew up in a home in the mountains. One day his father didn't come home from a job. They later found out he was killed in action. After his death it was hard to make money for the two of them so Maxwell was sold off to be trained as a gladiator in the city. He grew up in a gladitorial acadamy in a 6' by 4' cell. Once he turned 15, he asked for his freedom. He was then on his own for the rest of his life. He hopes to find his mother and find out who killed his father...

Sample RP: Maxwell walks along the dirt road. He notices the birds and how they fly south. The air grows colder as he walks up the mountain he looks off into the deep forest. He senses a chill go up his spine as it gets darker. The clouds circle the mountain-top. He hears a light russle in the bushes ahead. Two very large men walk out onto the road and stop in his path. Maxwell closes his eyes and keeps walking. The men then begin to laugh. "He's only a boy!" "Then i guess this one shouldnt be hard!" Maxwell stops dead in his tracks and looks up. Fear in his eyes and a twitch in his hands, he draws for his bow. Out of nowhere a club swings him into the ground. The bow goes off into the brush. The men laugh as the dirt is kicked up. Maxwell sits up and reaches for his dagger. He can already visualize the blood on the rocks. He looks into the eyes of the closest target and gives a quick grin...

more escribtion and more personality