Name: Nik Woverius Rillians
Age: 25
Sex: Male.
Description:
History:
North London, Hampstead Heath to be precise, just down the road from Saint Johns Wood. Its 12:37am on July 22nd and Nik Woverius Rillians is born after a prolonged labour that lasts for thirty-six hours. His mother is not amused.
Things used to break around Nik. It wasn't that he was a destructive kid, he didn't even need to be near the item in question. It would just break. Glasses would shatter, Holo-screens would implode, toys would smash against walls. All this with no apparent physical contact.
It all got a bit much for Mr and Mrs Rillians and the kid was shipped off to an orphanage at the tender age of three. They didn't much like the weirdness that went with him and so he was moved to another, and another, and another until eventually he found himself at Hardgraves & Blackwells Orphanage.
You can tell where this is going can't you? Crazy kid with fantastical powers? I bet you think Robbie Coltrane is gonna kick in the door wearing a beard and yell 'Yer a Wizzurd Nikky!'. Well you'd be wrong. He wanted to much for the part and to be perfectly honest J.K Rowlings lawyers scare the crap out of me.
Now..where was I.
It soon came to the kids attention, being five years old at this stage, that the other kids around him were proper nut jobs. One set his Wolverine Action figure on fire the first night, so Nik choked him for a bit and then beat him over the head with a plastic toy hammer for his transgressions.
The point was, that this was no ordinary orphanage. It was a place for little wierdos to learn that they were different and to learn how to use their gifts. Fast forward ten years and Nik is now a fully fledged Telekinetic, capable of utilizing his brain to fetch the remote control from the table when he can't be arsed getting off the sofa. It was right about then, I believe it was a Tuesday, that he was told he would now be in the care of Great Britain's government and he'd get to wear a cool black suit and hunt down bad guys, risking life and limb, all for a pencil pushers salary.
If anyone had seen him slip out of his bedroom window in the dead of night they may have remarked just how quick a turn of speed the teenager had. They didn't however and Nik ambled his way North, to the free cities of Scotland. He's spent the rest of his remaining adult years sort of...well..existing I guess. Using his talents to earn a bit of cash here and there and not really contributing a whole lot of heroism like 90% of the folks people like to write about.
Age: 25
Sex: Male.
Description:
- Spoiler:
History:
North London, Hampstead Heath to be precise, just down the road from Saint Johns Wood. Its 12:37am on July 22nd and Nik Woverius Rillians is born after a prolonged labour that lasts for thirty-six hours. His mother is not amused.
Things used to break around Nik. It wasn't that he was a destructive kid, he didn't even need to be near the item in question. It would just break. Glasses would shatter, Holo-screens would implode, toys would smash against walls. All this with no apparent physical contact.
It all got a bit much for Mr and Mrs Rillians and the kid was shipped off to an orphanage at the tender age of three. They didn't much like the weirdness that went with him and so he was moved to another, and another, and another until eventually he found himself at Hardgraves & Blackwells Orphanage.
You can tell where this is going can't you? Crazy kid with fantastical powers? I bet you think Robbie Coltrane is gonna kick in the door wearing a beard and yell 'Yer a Wizzurd Nikky!'. Well you'd be wrong. He wanted to much for the part and to be perfectly honest J.K Rowlings lawyers scare the crap out of me.
Now..where was I.
It soon came to the kids attention, being five years old at this stage, that the other kids around him were proper nut jobs. One set his Wolverine Action figure on fire the first night, so Nik choked him for a bit and then beat him over the head with a plastic toy hammer for his transgressions.
The point was, that this was no ordinary orphanage. It was a place for little wierdos to learn that they were different and to learn how to use their gifts. Fast forward ten years and Nik is now a fully fledged Telekinetic, capable of utilizing his brain to fetch the remote control from the table when he can't be arsed getting off the sofa. It was right about then, I believe it was a Tuesday, that he was told he would now be in the care of Great Britain's government and he'd get to wear a cool black suit and hunt down bad guys, risking life and limb, all for a pencil pushers salary.
If anyone had seen him slip out of his bedroom window in the dead of night they may have remarked just how quick a turn of speed the teenager had. They didn't however and Nik ambled his way North, to the free cities of Scotland. He's spent the rest of his remaining adult years sort of...well..existing I guess. Using his talents to earn a bit of cash here and there and not really contributing a whole lot of heroism like 90% of the folks people like to write about.