Welcome to Gaia! ::

~Rules~

#1. This is post apocalyptic so there are no homes, only blown up remains. There are no massive supplies of canned goods or grocery store items, only the lucky find. There are farms which grow crops as well as what few surviving unmutated animal species there are. There are some mutated animals and slightly mutated people is fine. The best weapons are plain pistol style handguns, used en masse by bikers and rarely by nomads. Present day clothing is preffered. Whatever people have nowadays is fine, tattered likely.
#2. No godmodding, pupeteering, or autohitting.
#3. Don't flame other players, no advertising.
#4. Obey all other rules of this guild and of the gaia TOS.

Username: xyvis
Character name: Cid Paramour
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Personality: Lonely and enigmatic. Cid has a very strong will and will drive himself to his own demise to see a worthy plan carry through. He's nice, but judged very harshly by others being that he was a former member of 'The Hand of God'
Likes: The feeling of wind in his hair. The open road. Certain cassete tapes, like he has a Heart cassete tape and a Fleetwood Mac tape. His beauties(guns). His Harley.
Dislikes: People who judge him harshly. In general, other people. Attention. Being confined to one space for too long. 'The Hand of God'.
Height&Weight: 5' 8", 120lbs.
Appearance: Black hair kept in a ponytail down to his shoulder blades. He has a muscualar build and is tall and statuesque. He wears a leather biker's jacket with a picture of a palm of a hand on the back. He wears leather biker's pants as well as black cowboy boots with silver spurs which clink ominously when he walks. He wears biker gloves and a black bandanna around his face, veiling his mouth and nose. When riding his harley he wears his black goggles. When not riding hie harley his goggles are on his forehead. His eyes are brown and show lonelyness when examined carefully. Underneath his jacket is a plain torn surviver's shirt stained with who knows what.
Weapons: Dual long barrel accurate shot revolvers. They are silver and normally rest at his waist. There is never a shortage of ammo on his person.
Bio: He was born the son of the second leader of 'The Hand of God'. 'The Hand of God' are the dominate biker gang. They are the worst of all scum. Their first leader found the Bible and founded the Hand of God under the pretences that he had been spared by God himself that he may act as the punshing Hand of God. He formed T.H.O.G. that they would rid the world of the unwanted masses. The leaders never die naturally, they are assasinated right after naming their sucessor. Cid's father knew this and thus had Cid that it become a dynasty of Paramour. Cid didn't want to be the leader of these s**t filled scum bags. So he went missing and was presumed dead and the throne went to his named successor. He has traveled alone since.
Job: Former leader of 'The Hand of God" (went "missing" presumed dead after naming his succesor and facing an immanent assasination.
Side: Loner

It was high noon, though no one could ever tell with the thick haze that always blankets the tainted forests. The air was stagnent and somewhat hard to breath. The sun was completely obscured and snow fell heavily. It was the month of July, well over 50 years since the nuclear holocaust wiped out most of the human race and soiled the earth. Cid Paramour was on his signature Harley with a bull skull added onto the front wheel frame so that the headlights shone out of the bull's eye sockets. The mixed tape that Cid had was now on Blue Oyster Cult's, Don't Fear the Reaper. The opening notes on the guitar rang out and disturbed the forest creatures as he rode past. He was being pursued by two thugs from a small, yet well armed, gang. He rode on, oblivious to the looming danger. By the time the song was finished, the thugs had cornerd him at a point where the road had been completely snowed in. The song changed to Rock You Like a Hurricane by the Scorpians when the two thugs dismounted. One was armed with a remington shotgun, the otehr had a thompson sub-machine gun. "End of the road." One said, "Yeah, hand of god PUNK!" The other spat. Cid got off his bike, faced them both. The man with the remington was taking his gun off his back when Cid fired a single round at the man's heart. It hit and he fell over, dead. The other man quickly emptied a whole clip trying to shoot Cid, he missed and Cid fired from his other pistol hitting the man in the same place as the first. He got back on his bike, by now the song had gone through the chorus twice. He rode up to the blockade of snow very fast, turned a sharp right so that his face was very near the ground. He hit the snow blockade and the Harley drove along it horizontally. It did a full circle turn and sped off in the direction that he had come from.

Cid could barely make out a figure standing in the road. He turned off the radio so he could listen. The shape had definetly moved out of the way. Normally he would have carried on without a sideways glance, but he decided to stop. He stopped a little up the road, his bike parked so that it blocked the road. He followed the tracks, his boots crunching in the snow and the spurs clinking slightly. He found a female huddled under a blanket of snow, shivering intensely. "Is that how they do it nowadays?" He asked mockingly, refering to the fact that it wasn't very smart to seek warmth in a ditch full of bone chilling ice and snow in a way that made it sound as if this was some sort of new technique to stay warm. He looked down at the huddled person and felt a twinge of pity that this person was extremely cold and obviously hungry.

Cid saw the incoming bag. He was experienced enough to know how to avoid it and counter without too much harm to the target. He held out his right arm and the bag's strap went over it so that he would have the bag in his hand. It continued onto his shoulder and pushed him back a couple centimeters. He lowered his arm and the bag fell so that the strap was in his hands. He aimed carefully and put just enough force into his throw so that the bag would collide with the back of her legs and knock her over backward unharmed onto the bag. He tossed the bag and the results were as he had expected.

Under hid black face veil, he was smiling. He was amused at the performance this person was putting on. He bent over and grabbed her ankle where she had tangled herself. He grabbed the bag with his other hand and lifted up her ankle while twisting the bag so that the strap came loose. He quickly wrapped her upper torso securely in the bag's strap. He heafted her up and walked back to his bike. He deposited her on the back portion of the seat. He twisted the bag a little and the wrapping job he had done came undone and he placed the bag on her lap. She was huddled up and shaking, out of fear? out of cold? For whatever reason he took pity on her and decided to remove a small tin of choice cuts of meat. It wasn't very much, it was a meal fit for a king in these days however. He held the tin above her head and eased it down onto her head where it sat perfectly balanced and bearing down on her neck muscles with the weight of the contents. "No sudden movements and no one gets hurt, understood?" He said using a mock authoritative tone. He was joking for the most part, but also quite serious about the "no sudden movements" part, being that if she moved to quickly the tin would surely cause some form of damage.

"Oh I wouldn't give this up for the world. Go ahead and take some..." Cid said laughing heartily. He meant this in a way that he wouldn't like to be anything else because some of the reactions he gets are truly priceless. He indicated to the tin of meats on her head. It was meant to be kinda scary but he allowed her to remove the tin from her head with her hands and have a little of the contents.