Rings of Honor

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Username:

Marshall

Groups:

Registered users

Character:

Marshall Devlin, The Devil's Gunman.

Character Race:

He's figuring that part out bit by bit, day by day.

Gender:

He doesn't have lady parts.

Location:

Generally, under a hat and in front of a beer.

Profession:

One time US Marshal. Demon and Angel hunter, collector of souls.

Appearance:

Gruff and unrefined. Still young, but far from inexperienced, aged 27. That's about all that matters. Six foot two inches, lean of body. Dark hair, dark eyes that stare out over the world with a sarcastic look, cynical, jaded and warm all in one quick glance. If not in a dark suit, he's in jeans and a tee shirt. Always the boots, riding boots. And him without a hat? Never. And don't mind the twin pistols, one on each hip. Has to be the job. They tend to be random, some days you can see him with Colt 1911s, some days with Smith and Wesson .44s. Or even a pair of Springfield XDs, chambered for the caliber of .45, as are the Colt pistols. There is a single tattoo across his back, three skulls. One has it's hands over it's eyes, the next has it's hands over it's mouth and the third has it's hands over it's ears, with words scrolled beneath. "See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil."
Daddy wanted Marshall to go to college for for fire science, Mommy wanted him to be an engineer. Sure, he's smart enough for both of them. But one day, Marshall came home and his little brother was dead in the front yard, killed for his shoes and the Kobe Bryant jersey he wore. Tom was eleven. From that day on, Marshall knew but one thing. Justice will be served, and it's gonna happen in his own way. Ask questions first? No. Shoot first, ask his friends questions later. And let's face it, this is the modern world. Stories of gunfighters beating people on the draw, that's old news, right? Only happened in Tombstone and Dodge City. Well, maybe there's one more quick drawin' gunfighter around.

Skills:

Due to a recent turn of events while Marshall was walking in a dream, his left eye is streaked with green, his right eye with red. The light's flare up when he is lied to, thus making it very hard, but not impossible, to do so. The lights come to life as well, when he wants to draw something out of someone. The green light can take away hurt, pain, disappointment, despair, etc. The red can store them and release them at will, but at a grave cost. Marshall must be able to contain the emotions within his own body, and he's mortal as anyone can be. Azinahl would be the other name he asnwers too, but that's rare. Not many can understand the truth behind the name, even fewer know what it means, and less are those who would dare to summon that fell beast in the dark of the night.
If, on the off chance, you did manage to get that ball rolling, you'd see him in the shape that so many have seen, but so many forget. Grow taller? No. His body just erupts in a black flame, licking at his clothes and every bit of exposed skin. Twin wings reach out from his back, ashen feathers or black energy, depending on the mood. They reach out and bring everything under them into the darkest shadows. Chains drag from bleeding holes in his wrists and his eyes flare with a brilliant red.

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