by Name: Sylvester Finis Pope
Nickname: Sly; Jack
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 36 or 21, depending on who you were to ask
Birthday: February 2nd
Sexuality: Straight. Straight, straight, straight. Though, there was that one time college...
Unique Characteristics: Suits. I rather enjoy suits. They are formal, but can be relaxed when so needed. They make me feel... defaulted? Is that a word? Hm. They make me feel nice and generic. Boring.
Personality: You certainly are a nosy bunch, aren't you? Asking for so much more than my name like this. Honestly. Whatever happened to the concept of exposition? We go out on a date or two, perhaps catch the side train to the lake and skate across the ice as I slowly unravel my past to your silk-covered ears... Romance truly is dead, it seems.
I, Sylvester Pope, was born on the outskirts of Little Italy in New York City. My unremarkable surrogate birth mother, Lucy Pope Daniels, passed away in an unremarkable delivery room whilst releasing me into this unremarkable world, leaving it and I behind to sulk throughout life without any mark of a remarkable patriarch.
Grief-stricken, my father returned to his work. Quietus Finis was never a loving father, for his attention was far too attached to developing a cure for my mother’s condition. That is, she had been locked in a box and shoved beneath six feet of dry earth. His plan? To develop the ultimate miracle cure. A concoction that could assist in sustaining one’s life, no matter their condition. The Fountain, as he so reveled in calling it. Some ridiculous bastardization of the Fountain of Youth. Ah, but so many times had the mad scientist failed in creating previous chemicals in his makeshift steam-punk workshop - a tester would be required if this one was to be used upon his beloved. And who better than the beast which had taken her life? Some good for nothing fourteen year old that had bee locked away in the basement for his entire existence.
The pinch of that blue liquid slowly taking the place of my red blood cells is still burned deeply into my skull. Some days, it is all that I am capable of feeling. It is all that I can recall from the time between being strapped to a table by Daddy Dearest and awakening to the gawking smirk of some teen.
While he is remembered to have been around my age, it is difficult to recall all the way back to my early teens. Essentially, I had apparently sauntered my way into the heart of New York’s underground, only to find myself staring at face of a miniature gang leader. The boy was naïve, but so was I. It did not take all that long for me to realize what must have happened to Father after he vitalized my body with The Fountain. Adjusting to living with the ragged orphan boys was not difficult for me.
Oddly enough, I hardly felt much anymore. At all. The young boy who had shed tears after reading novellas in secret now could stare an angry policeman in the face without a hint of anything before tripping him into the way of a speeding Yorker. This fact naturally intimidated the other boys, as did the fact that I had something that I had never heard of while living in seclusion with Quietus. /Charism./
As I rose to power in the gang, I simultaneously was living the wholly different life of a collegian. By twenty, my business degree and best friend, Rocky Tannison, were in hand.
It was about that time that I decided to finally research my father. Being out in the world allowed me the hearsay to learn that he may have been more than a cliché mad scientist. Much more. Before dropping everything to tend to me as a babe, Quietus in fact was a mighty force in the business world. One might say that I have followed in father’s footsteps, after inheriting the company that he had left behind.
I now run both Keeper Industries, the most prestigious imports and exports company to ever dare going beyond an Eastern Seaboard, as well as do I hold the reigns to my own personal entourage and gang of thugs, The Keepers. With Rocky (a.k.a. Steam) and them by my side, there is rarely much reason for me to take leave from office.
Likes:
-Women
-Any booze that can harm the physical body
-Those little frills on the ends of certain potholders
-Dogs. I /adore/ dogs
Dislikes:
-Cats
-Sunlight
-Russia
-You, more than likely
Motivations:
-My desire to conquer all things business, along with my company, Keeper Industries
-I suppose that you could say I am motivated by my urge to remain alive for all time
-My city, New York
Fears/Disgusts:
-My own death
-Rudeness
-The supernatural
Eyes: Red; The once cyan beauties were stained crimson by a chemical spill in my childhood
Hair: Yellow blonde, originally. Later, I began to dye it a sleek black
Height: 7 ft 1.3 in
Weight: 211.06 lbs
Complexion: Gray, like the flesh of recently developed corpse. Though, as ashamed as I am to note it, my skin melts into a revolting blue evenescence when I come into contact with certain shades of that very color.
Level: 1, as this website has deemed me. Personally, I believe that I should be at 99 already.
Class: The judges say... F? What, for Finis?
Nickname: Sly; Jack
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 36 or 21, depending on who you were to ask
Birthday: February 2nd
Sexuality: Straight. Straight, straight, straight. Though, there was that one time college...
Unique Characteristics: Suits. I rather enjoy suits. They are formal, but can be relaxed when so needed. They make me feel... defaulted? Is that a word? Hm. They make me feel nice and generic. Boring.
Personality: You certainly are a nosy bunch, aren't you? Asking for so much more than my name like this. Honestly. Whatever happened to the concept of exposition? We go out on a date or two, perhaps catch the side train to the lake and skate across the ice as I slowly unravel my past to your silk-covered ears... Romance truly is dead, it seems.
I, Sylvester Pope, was born on the outskirts of Little Italy in New York City. My unremarkable surrogate birth mother, Lucy Pope Daniels, passed away in an unremarkable delivery room whilst releasing me into this unremarkable world, leaving it and I behind to sulk throughout life without any mark of a remarkable patriarch.
Grief-stricken, my father returned to his work. Quietus Finis was never a loving father, for his attention was far too attached to developing a cure for my mother’s condition. That is, she had been locked in a box and shoved beneath six feet of dry earth. His plan? To develop the ultimate miracle cure. A concoction that could assist in sustaining one’s life, no matter their condition. The Fountain, as he so reveled in calling it. Some ridiculous bastardization of the Fountain of Youth. Ah, but so many times had the mad scientist failed in creating previous chemicals in his makeshift steam-punk workshop - a tester would be required if this one was to be used upon his beloved. And who better than the beast which had taken her life? Some good for nothing fourteen year old that had bee locked away in the basement for his entire existence.
The pinch of that blue liquid slowly taking the place of my red blood cells is still burned deeply into my skull. Some days, it is all that I am capable of feeling. It is all that I can recall from the time between being strapped to a table by Daddy Dearest and awakening to the gawking smirk of some teen.
While he is remembered to have been around my age, it is difficult to recall all the way back to my early teens. Essentially, I had apparently sauntered my way into the heart of New York’s underground, only to find myself staring at face of a miniature gang leader. The boy was naïve, but so was I. It did not take all that long for me to realize what must have happened to Father after he vitalized my body with The Fountain. Adjusting to living with the ragged orphan boys was not difficult for me.
Oddly enough, I hardly felt much anymore. At all. The young boy who had shed tears after reading novellas in secret now could stare an angry policeman in the face without a hint of anything before tripping him into the way of a speeding Yorker. This fact naturally intimidated the other boys, as did the fact that I had something that I had never heard of while living in seclusion with Quietus. /Charism./
As I rose to power in the gang, I simultaneously was living the wholly different life of a collegian. By twenty, my business degree and best friend, Rocky Tannison, were in hand.
It was about that time that I decided to finally research my father. Being out in the world allowed me the hearsay to learn that he may have been more than a cliché mad scientist. Much more. Before dropping everything to tend to me as a babe, Quietus in fact was a mighty force in the business world. One might say that I have followed in father’s footsteps, after inheriting the company that he had left behind.
I now run both Keeper Industries, the most prestigious imports and exports company to ever dare going beyond an Eastern Seaboard, as well as do I hold the reigns to my own personal entourage and gang of thugs, The Keepers. With Rocky (a.k.a. Steam) and them by my side, there is rarely much reason for me to take leave from office.
Likes:
-Women
-Any booze that can harm the physical body
-Those little frills on the ends of certain potholders
-Dogs. I /adore/ dogs
Dislikes:
-Cats
-Sunlight
-Russia
-You, more than likely
Motivations:
-My desire to conquer all things business, along with my company, Keeper Industries
-I suppose that you could say I am motivated by my urge to remain alive for all time
-My city, New York
Fears/Disgusts:
-My own death
-Rudeness
-The supernatural
Eyes: Red; The once cyan beauties were stained crimson by a chemical spill in my childhood
Hair: Yellow blonde, originally. Later, I began to dye it a sleek black
Height: 7 ft 1.3 in
Weight: 211.06 lbs
Complexion: Gray, like the flesh of recently developed corpse. Though, as ashamed as I am to note it, my skin melts into a revolting blue evenescence when I come into contact with certain shades of that very color.
Level: 1, as this website has deemed me. Personally, I believe that I should be at 99 already.
Class: The judges say... F? What, for Finis?
Last edited by Sly Pope on Sun Aug 24, 2014 4:54 pm; edited 1 time in total
