Marshall Arthur Jones

Posts : 20 Join date : 2011-11-05 Location : Behind a Rifle

A Picture of Your Character:
Marshall Arthur Jones Tumblr_lgj51tObqU1qbgsnt

_{(thank you, Funk. You're a life saver.)}

Character's Name: Marshall Arthur Jones

Class: Sniper

Team: RED

Personality:
Born into the bad part of Adelaide (then again, which part isn't?) amongst a low income family that was not prepared for another mouth to feed, Marshall enjoys the simple things. Fresh air, the smell of freshly cut grass and a bullet between the eyes of anything with a skull.

Kicked out of home, the country and disowned by his father for not having a thick moustache, the young Australian grew bitter and detached, disregarding human life. His frightening caffeine addiction started not too long after he arrived in America, though it's not just coffee in his pot. A mix of scotch, caffeine and one too many teaspoons of sugar has lead to his attitude flopping around like a purple fish out of water. One minute Marshall will be content on giving you a dignified farewell, the next he'll spit on your corpse and ramble on about how your head looked twelve feet tall.

Generally though, he's very anti-social. When your job requires you to be as silent as possible so you can think about how to kill your new mail man should he befoul you in some way, noise is one of the irritating things that Mister Jones can't stand. Fast talkers and slow thinkers are high on his pet peeve list, just below decaf and those bloody backstabbing wankers.

Role-Play Sample:
Marshall frowns, exhaling slowly. There was a lot of explosions and fire distorting his view of his target, the only hint that the bastard was still alive was a ethereal blue glow that tethered him to the godforsaken Heavy like a dog on a leash. He mused over this for a second, training the tiny (but obvious) red laser sight on the very top of a greying Medic... Which promptly vanished behind the kevlar vest wearing whale. Ah, piss.

Then came an all to hated sound, the slight fizzle of a worn out cloak and the smell of cheap cologne. He gritted his teeth, turning his head to see the grinning idiot in the doorway.

“Bloody tosser.” The brunette growled, taking the jar from the windowsill and throwing it at the Spy. The almost girly shriek never ceased to amuse nor did the follow threats of death for staining the apparently expensive Italian suit.

MSN Account: melloslastdeathnote@live.com.au

Worlds you would be interested in us having: Atom Punk would be nice... ~~Uh, jokingly can I suggest an Assassin's Creed universe?~~