Laron is a survivor in the Eden.
|Base of Operations||Outskirts of Lyon|
Laron is a lanky lad, not that tall but quite skinny, built to survive in hot and unforgiving climates. His skin is tanned and smooth, yet to loose that childlike spring even as he became a young adult. Both his eyes and his hair are a deep shade of red, reminiscent of all the blood that's spilled around him in the slums everyday.
If one were to describe his normal expression then it would be 'cocky' that along with the piercings along his right ear, is normally enough to tell others he's one of the slum rats, out for no good and always looking for trouble.
In terms of clothing he doesn't really have much. All he has are rags he's able to find laying around, anything light and loose that will keep the sun off his back and his loot hidden. As well as these tattered cloths, Laron will always have an expensive red scarf around his neck. It's long enough that he can wrap it up to protect his head in the heat of the day, and short enough that he can leave it hanging around his neck at most times.
Laron is a Twat. There's really no better way to describe the way in which he acts. He is completely self absorbed and never thinks of anyone but himself. Perhaps a result of being forced to fend for himself since he was little more than a toddler. Regardless, this personality has led him to meet the wrong sides of many people, often seen as an annoyance or a greedy thief.
If he's not trying to rob you blind then Laron will actually become a rather joking fellow, albeit a bit rough around the tongue and too ready to stoop to sarcasm or insults to give himself a quick laugh. If he's not laughing with, taunting or jeering at someone then Laron will put on his serious demeanor. This is generally only when faced with a dangrous situation or when he stealing something so the most that people normally ever see is the personality of the utter twat that Laron really is.
If there was one thing about himself that Laron could hide, it would be his cowardice. He's not a fighter by any means. He's crafty and intelligent, but not a fighter. So whenever put into a situation where he has the option to, Laron will high tail it out of there as fast as his legs will carry him, not looking back at all. He carries a short knife on his person at all times but has never actually used it for anything more then cutting up food, even the though of another person's blood makes him gag.
Even if he is one of the most abrasive people you can meet, this thief doesn't openly hate anyone. Yes, h certainly resents those who can live in luxury inside the city and those who manage to stay fed, but there's no one he outwardly hates. If there's one thing Laron understands, it's that everyone is just trying to make their way in the world and survive in their own manner.
In the plains bordering both the forest and desert, there resided a small village, one so insignificant in stature that it was paid hardly any notice by anyone more than the occasional wandering traveler. People there were peaceful, they toiled away day after day but for a good reward of crops, clothing and happiness. Alas it was fated to end at some point, and so it was that Laron’s mother, now nine months pregnant, was the first to see a near army of Corrupted and Horrors on the Horizon. Normally they could hide from the odd few who wandered through town, but these were like an on coming tide that would sweep away anything in it’s path.
With the adrenaline of fear pumping through their veins, the villages collected what they could from their dirt and straw houses in a matter of minutes, fleeing the settlement and hoping to whatever merciful god there may be that they would no be followed. They were.
It took less than a day for the army to catch up to their little group, an event which resulted in the massacre of almost all their men as they stayed behind to try and fight off the wave, giving the women and children enough time to escape out into the desert with what meager supplies they still had.
From the moment Laron was Born he had nothing, his mother had nothing and their group had nothing. In fact they had only just made it to Lyon as the last of their water ran out after a long and arduous trip from their secluded village in the plains.t. Laron himself was born on the trip which over seven eighths of the village was lost in, carried the last steps of the way to Lyon by his desperate mother. The city however, was not a welcoming place. Most of their party were captured by slavers or integrated into nomad groups for their various skills. Laron’s mother was one of the few who stayed in Lyon, selling herself to earn a living for her and her son to get by.
She only lasted a few years before disease and her third pregnancy took her and his brother as if they’d never been there at all. After that point Laron was left as a street urchin, five years old and still hardly able to speak much more than a few words. He survived by copying the others and taking food, supplies and objects from the many traders who passed though Lyon, learning to improve thanks to the bite of their guard swords.
No one on the streets showed Laron any kindness, and so he never showed any in return. Even at the age of eight he'd become a selfish thief who'd think first about filling his stomach rather than helping anyone else in the same situation as he. Eden and Lyon didn't allow for that. So this was the child that Laron grew up as, any love or compassion shown to him by his mother was soon wiped away by reality and hunger, two facets of life which would come to define the boy more than any other.
Eventually, around the age of twelve, Laron met another boy from a ‘guild’ for thieves such as himself. An accumulation of young boys and girls who’d spent their entire lives out on the streets, hungry for something more. In a larger group such as that stealing from larger caravans was made much easier. Of course with the loot increasing so did the danger, and a number of them were killed every week in attempts at new sources of food or money. All done outside of Lyon, before they would be protected by walls and guards.
This boy told Laron tales of riches and bounty, enough to fill their stomachs for years on end. A lie, but as selfish as he was at this time, Laron was also incredibly gullible. And so he joined them, putting his skills to use in large scale robberies of caravans which passed through the outer slums on their way into Lyon. The group was also beneficial in teaching Laron how stealing should be done, sleight of hand tricks for pick pocketing and the best ways to scale and run across buildings. Unbeknownst to him or any of the other rats, Laron’s higher connection to god increased both his skill in these areas, as well as both his speed and agility. If it weren’t for that Horror attack when he was still in the womb then perhaps he would have died like all the other children.
Eventually he reached the age of 17, one of the oldest street rats. It took him those five years to realize that he was now leading a group of orphaned children and armature thieves. “Fuck that.” He thought, quickly seeing how much of a hindrance protecting and stealing for all of them would be. No, by this point Laron worked much better by himself and that meant he could focus on taking what he alone needed.
He went on for another year like this, quickly becoming known for his red hair and scarf and the way in which he could steal something from right under someone’s nose. He even stole and sold enough to work his way into Lyon itself, his eyes growing wide upon seeing the relative decadence and wealth the walls contained. He was coming from a world of sandy holes in the ground covered by leaves, into a place that had actual buildings. Buildings! It was like his very only playground, full of unsuspecting traders to pinch bread from and high roof tops to run over.
This bounty and selfish joy only lasted for a few months before tragedy hit the thief. He was in the middle of wheedling his way into a shop when he heard shouts raise up and echo throughout the building. Curious, as he should not have been, Laron idiotically decides to venture further in, hoping that maybe it would serve as a distraction for him to complete his task without too much effort. Instead what he saw was something so common in the outskirts of Lyon that he didn’t even blink. He saw a man panting with fear and pulling a blood soaked dagger from the chest of another, a man who only took a few seconds to notice the lanky thief standing there. In a fit of constricting fear he runs and shoves the weapon into the hands of Laron, calling out ‘Guards! Guards!” once outside the shop.
The next few minutes passed as if time had been slowed for Laron. He still had never learned the rules of Lyon and so went around trying to steal what he could while the dead man painted the floors in his own shade of red. Two burly men in the dress of the Holy guards smashed through the half open door and grabbed Laron by his thin arms, a surprise which caused him to attempt to turn, earning him a thwack to the head with a club. Right where the slowing began. He was then dragged outside like a piece of limp meat and tossed into an open carriage, his loot spilling out behind him like a trail of breadcrumbs as woman screamed and mean jeered all mixing into an odd blurred sound. The only thing that was truly clear to him was a child’s laugh, as if he’d just gotten away with something against his mother’s rules. God truly did relish in Laron’s failings.
And in keeping with God’s wishes, Laron was taken by the cart, back out of the city he’d tried so hard to enter, and toward the round and ominous stadium which now functioned as a coliseum for heretics, betrayers and those who split blood in Lyon. A place so deadly, that even with all the wealth and affluence that surrounded it none of the street rats had ever attempted to steal from it. It was so dangerous in part thanks to the dozen or so Corrupted which were kept there, created from the bodies of those killed in Lyon and locked in cages until they could be released upon those who had killed them in gladiator style battles used to impose God’s justice upon defilers of his Holy name.
Really it would have been quite a poetic form of justice, if it were not for the fact that Laron hadn’t committed any crime outside of stealing for every day of his life since five. Okay maybe he did deserve some sort of punishment, but sentencing him to death by Corrupted was certainly not due punishment.
It was as the gates first raised and he stood there in his rages, along side four murders are warriors, that Laron first learned he was a coward. He didn’t like fighting and he certainly didn’t like the prospect of death. The two burly corrupted instantly charged at them once their restraints were lifted, God himself egging them on for his own amusement. If the priests had one thing right, it was the these conflicts pleased their God very much.
The first of the men, a large and powerful Nomad, was swept aside with the mere brush the Corrupted hand, making a large dent in the concrete wall that he hit. The rest were far more cautious, stepping out slowly to meet the lumbering forms of the same people they’d killed only days prior. The fear could almost be smelt in their sweat, one even turning and running back towards the gates, screaming and yelling to be let free and begging for forgiveness. It never came.
Laron was on the verge of pissing his pants as the man who had ran was torn in two and the remaining two battled as best they could with the rusted swords placed in their hands before the battle began. However, they two were soon quickly dispatched. In the end all the remained was Laron and two hulking pieces of flesh, both with the intent to rip his spine from his body. The child’s laughter piped up again as he tightened his muscles and began to dart away from his foes, moving at speeds which a human shouldn’t have been able to reach. He dodge the endless swipes, kicks and punches with precise flips, twists and dashes, moving through the killers as if they were the Guard’s he’d evaded his entire life.
This went on and on, a never ending barrage for Laron to escape from. Eventually, the spectators grew bored and the Corrupted had long chains thrown around them, tempted back into their cage by a tainted games master. Once they left Laron fell to his knees panting, hardly aware that he was being dragged back to the cells by two Guards.
For months he was used to add ‘entertainment’ value to fights, an untouched boy who never fought the Corrupted, only ran. Each time they would test him in new ways, pitting him against humans, adding in giant obstacles, increasing the number of foes. Yet each time he would endure and survive, left exhausted and regained once it was over. They’d give him a few days to recover then throw him out again, much to the pleasure of those watching.
This process hasn’t stopped to this day, Laron now an attraction for the people of the stadium to watch and laugh at, all captivated by the way in which he managed to evade the corrupted.
Powers and AbilitiesEdit
Fighting Style: Laron doesn't fight, in fact if ever forced into that sort of situation he'll run before anything else. If one were to define this running specifically then it would be a combination of acrobatic dodges, rolls and flips which allow him to escape the grasp of his assailants.
Expert Thief: Unlike combat, this is something Laron is very good at. From the age of five it was his only means of survival and growing up throughout the years only helped to further hone his skills. In this craft he'll employ a mix of free running, slight of hand and subterfuge to take what he wants from who he wants.
Light's Bounty - LockedEdit
Laron's ability and quantum manipulation is based around the mirage and the warping of light. The scale at which he can do this is quite small, usually one person at a time that's relatively close, or himself. The effect of the mirage is often seen though rather quickly upon closer inspection, unless the one looking is a dimwit. He learnt of this from spending his entire life looking out to the deserts around Lyon and marveling at the great expanses of water, only to later discover that they were merely an illusion. Regardless the taint manifested itself as a means for him to survive as a thief and get away from assailants with ease.
|Cost||Med - High|
If he so wishes Laron is able to bend the light around himself or another to give off the impression that he isn't there at all. The light is bent in such a way that none bounces off him and he's rendered semi-invisible. Of course this is only a temporary skill (1-2 turns) and has an incredibly high cost if he attempts it out in the open, a moderate one if in shadow. Despite how convincing this may look from afar, within close proximity most would be able to see his outline and the blur in the air rather clearly, it would be similar to seeing the heat raise up off the road on a sweltering summer's day. Because of this the ability is only really effective if he's hiding as well and in combat it would be next to useless.
Like the first Laron manipulates the way light acts, but in this case how it reflects off himself. Instead of reflecting off to show himself or the person he's covering, the wavelengths of light will bounce off in such a way that he/they will appear to be a different person entirely. Like with his first ability, at close range it's frightfully easy to tell it's a trick as with his current focus, there is no definition in the person, just what some might call the 'base' of a person and generic clothing. He also can't change the sound he emits so if Laron attempted mimicking a guard covered in weapons it would be even easier to tell it was a tick.
|Earned||0 (Link to be added...)|
|Points spent on abilities||0|
- His face claim is a vocaloid and the yaoi Kylar found when looking for him burned his eyes out.