Demarco~ half-blood

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Name: Demarco Lysias Alkinoos
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Olympian Parent: Ares
Minor God and Goddess Parents:
Power:

By being a son of Ares he has a short temper and has the ability, when provoked enough he steps into a rage that only one of Ares could give him. This rage increases his strength, stamina, and willpower to godlike levels allowing him while in this state to brush off most mental and physical effects. It lasts as long as it takes him to get out his anger. This intense fury has major side effects though, leaving him with not much energy and in a weakened state.

Description:

Demarco has always looked older than he actually was, not exatly sure if that is more from inheriting his fathers high testosterone levels. He is contantly standing tall with his chest out giving off the sign of dominace opennly to others. He wears loose tattered clothes that look like hand me downs, preferring shorts and old button up shirts if he even wears shirts at all, feeling that clothing is just armor and only those that are weak hide behind armor. His neck is cut and damaged from the rusty looking necklace with a sharp mall spear head on it as the pendant. He wears a head band on his head that is a deep crimson representing the color of his father and is often wearing bandages around his hands. He only wears a pair of sandals he makes himself and the only time he is seen wearing shoes is when it is cold.

Play-by:
History:

He was born in a big city with more alley ways than streets themselves and everyone seemed to have some sort of chip on their shoulders. He and his mother were lower class and it didn't seem to bother either them. His mother was a very intimidating woman even for him, she demanded respect from everyone especially her son. She kept him strong mentally and physically keeping his temper in check, she always taught him of the Spartan lifestyle and to him it felt like he was living it and he liked it. Their home was not big but it wasn’t the worst in town, only one story but it did have a basement which held weaponry and other equipment that his mother trained him with. His life wasn’t hard but it defiantly kept him on his toes.

In his school he was very charismatic and competitive. He was always taught to be a leader and never a follower so in school, so most people either stayed at his side or away from him. Many of the teachers disliked him greatly and called him an insubordinate. While he wasn’t always on good terms with authority figures, the students liked him a lot with his confidence and always helping people who were on his side even though he did have a short temper. He hated the classes where he had to sit down and write he wasn’t much of a thinker but when it came to sports or history he shocked everyone. When he couldn’t make it outside or just wanted to be alone he spent his time in the library reading books of war, history, and the science of human anatomy.

The day of his 13th birthday his mother was unusually distant from him that day, she said little and didn’t make him exercise which was really weird to him. He went out with his friends like he always did on weekends wandering the streets causing whatever mischief they could get themselves into. To him though the day felt weird more uncommon than ones birthday, and it made him paranoid putting his friends on edge as well. His eyes quickly darted off to the corner of the street in the distance, a loud roaring motorcycle coming down the street, unnaturally loud. The bike got closer and closer till he was right beside the group of kids and he suddenly felt the urge to step into his battle stance, this man on the motorcycle was a threat and his gut was telling him so. The man was large but Demarco did not back down, he never did, the man stopped right in front of them and casually turned his head to Demarco “you…” his voice was rough and dangerous, but Demarco was not afraid he took a step forward toward the big man. The man laughed and stood up making his way to him, the other kids backed away not sure what was going on this man really wouldn’t try to fight a kid would he?

When the man was in arms reach of Demarco he began to reach out his hand to touch his shoulder, “Look kid your….” He stopped and his eye twitched slightly. Demarco had his fist into the man’s stomach and it felt to him completely ineffective as if hitting a brick wall, he stepped back resisting the urge to rub his fist from the pain. The man was not happy because of this and took the glasses from his eyes and put them on his shirt.
“Is it gonna be like that kid?” and the back of the man’s hand collided with the boy’s face sending him to the wall with a thwack.
“Now I know your mother and she must have taught…” he was stopped again Demarco was back up and this time his fist was in the man’s face, it felt the same way as hitting his stomach but this time he felt different at the sound of the man talking about his mother made a switch turn on in his head, and everything he saw began to burn and then turn white. In an instant he made a jump for this man’s face, he would teach him.

The man stopped in his tracks as he felt the fist and his left eye beginning to swell up, and growled, he grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and pulled his fist back. But Demarco was quick he bit into his hand and the man dropped him and Demarco was going to take advantage of the opening. The man and the boy fought for what felt like hours, cracks began to appear in the sides of buildings and on the pavement itself. Neither was going to give up but it would have to end soon.

The man with bruises and bite marks around his body and the boy with brusies and bleeding from many cuts. They both stood across from each other, Demarco was gasping for breath and about to fall he knew he couldn’t take anymore. The man pulled out of his battle position and began laughing again, this did not make Demarco happy, he tried to run towards him but he couldn’t move his legs or he would fall over so he stood there with his angry expression.
“Your done boy, beating you would be a waste of my time.” He reached into his pocket and threw him a necklace. Demarco grabbed it out of the air without taking his eyes off of him.
“Go to your mom boy, she will tell you.” He went back on his motorcycle casually and started it up. He paused as he moved his eyes from looking forward to him in almost in a purposely dramatic fashion, “oh ya and happy birthday.” The man laughed again and drove off.

Demarco was infuriated, he breathed in and shouted at the top of his lungs, “You coward!” He looked down at his hand, the pendant on the necklace was a small silver spear head and it was very sharp and pointy almost as if it could stab someone and cause harm. The chain it was on looked more like barbed wire and if it rubbed wrong it looked like it could cut as such but it was loose like a chain instead of like a metal wire. He clenched it in his hand as he looked off in the direction of home, ow he thought to himself. It was defiantly sharp.

He stumbled to his home by himself ignoring everyone around him and trying to figure out how the man knew it was his birthday and how he knew his mother in the first place. He opened the door to his house to see his mother sitting in the dimly lit room staring at him as if she knew he was coming in at that moment, a neutral expression on her face as usual and her voice that calm demanding voice as usual, “So I see you met your father.” She leaned forward.
Not knowing his face was in a scowl and for the first time in his life he talked to her as if she was a peer instead of a teacher, his voice sounded like the man’s except younger, “you will tell me everything.” And she began to talk. She told him all about what happened, how Ares the god of war and his mother met, and why. She told him of a camp where he could go and all Demarco asked was how soon. He trained with more force this time pushing himself mentally and physically to the point of exhaustion.

He stood at the door and his mother pointed him in the direction. It took him awhile to leave because his mother would not let go and he didn’t want to either. He counted his money, checked his supplies again, hugged his mother one last time, and went on his way to the camp.

Personality:

Demarco is in general a hot head, very loud, confident, determined, and he prefers to use force to anything else. To most people this is considered a very unlikeable personality and what many would consider dumb.

He is extremely competitive and arrogant considering himself better to those who don’t prove themselves immediately. He has been known to take advantage of the weak using them in manners he sees fit. He feels that only the strong deserve happiness and the weak are below him. Though he feels everyone who proves themselves strong deserves a chance at freedom. He answers every insult, lies when necessary, and covets valuable things that are not his.

Though while in general a bossy and loud person he treats those he considers equals with high respect. With all these bad things about him he values teamwork and brotherhood highly and never a bad sport after a competition.

Demarco is a very convincing person whether it be through his words or through his brute, making him a likeable person to some depending on what they prefer. With how he was raised he was taught to be a leader and for those who are looking for someone to follow he shows that aura of leadership. While it is not noticeable he puts a lot of thinking into his plans, he is not book smart but has a very high intuition and wisdom of the world around him, knowing when a situation or person is too much for him to handle.

He thinks with a very wide spectrum often skipping over minor details or things that should be seen. Most people dislike him at first with his obnoxious attitude and nag of trying to be better than everyone else, though most that are tolerant learn to like him and find him to be of some kind of worth to them, for those who aren’t learn quickly to either stay out of the way or be trampled.

Role-Playing Sample:

I think my history will suffice, if you need something more than i would be happy to serve.

Rules Password:

colorful

[Spottedshadow]

As your History is basically a Role-Play Sample, I will allow it to account for one. Fantastic Bio by the way!