Post by Rαccooη on Jan 28, 2011 18:13:44 GMT
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[cs=2][bg=474747] statistics | |
[atrb=width,40%][bg=a0a0a0]NAME » | [atrb=width,60%][bg=9a9a9a]Ferra Raikune Lanx |
[bg=a0a0a0]AGE » | [bg=9a9a9a]15 |
[bg=a0a0a0]GENDER » | [bg=9a9a9a]Female |
[bg=a0a0a0]DISTRICT » | [bg=9a9a9a]District 3 |
[bg=a0a0a0]OTHER » | [bg=9a9a9a]When they come for me - Linkin Park |
[cs=2][bg=474747] physical description | |
[bg=a0a0a0]HEIGHT » | [bg=9a9a9a]5' 11.'' |
[bg=a0a0a0]WEIGHT » | [bg=9a9a9a]113 pounds |
[bg=a0a0a0]HAIR COLOR // LENGTH » | [bg=9a9a9a]Jet black with silver stripe, medium-long. |
[bg=a0a0a0][cs=2] FULL DESCRIPTION » Ferra hasn't got much meat on her bones, but she has her head in the clouds; literally. She's taller than most of District Three, and is proud of it. Her legs are thin and strong, like the wires so commonly tinkered with in her home district. Her arms are mostly thick bone, and are rigidly powerful. Her hair, as stated before, is jet-black and touches her shoulders. Her twilight-black hair has one centered silver stripe that starts out thin in her bangs, then thickening to a few inches in width when touching her shiny black locks. Her eyes are steel gray with hints of sapphire blue streaking through them. The gray hides in the morning fog, while the sapphire streaks shine through the starlight. In the technological light of the wires and chips that runs rampant through her district, her eyes seem to sparkle blue-silver that shines in a manner unlike steel and unlike the sapphire blue sea. It's a strange combination that no one else in all of Panem can replicate. Gray-blue has a different meaning in her eyes. | |
[cs=2][bg=474747] mental evaluation | |
[bg=a0a0a0]STEREOTYPE » | [bg=9a9a9a]'The rebellious techie' |
[bg=a0a0a0]LIKES » | [bg=9a9a9a]
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[bg=a0a0a0]DISLIKES » | [bg=9a9a9a]
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[bg=a0a0a0]STRENGTHS » | [bg=9a9a9a]
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[bg=a0a0a0]WEAKNESSES » | [bg=9a9a9a]
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[bg=a0a0a0][cs=2]FULL DESCRIPTION »Ferra doesn't follow any rules made by the Capitol. The Capitol is a controlling bunch of 'leaders' who just take pride in forcing the young of the Districts to play deadly games with them. She'll take a whip to the skull just to show the Capitol that she isn't their property. She'll calm down a bit when she gets a new invention to tinker with, turning a mass of wires and a technological mass of microchips into something beautiful, even useful for her community. A special undershirt microchip to respond with a shock when someone tries to hurt you could be just a week away with her experienced hands. But she also 'plays with fire,' literally; she plays pranks on the Capitol members with small firecrackers. They have a special walk down town square? One step onto special ground in District Three, and boom! They get a shock and look ridiculous. And no one knows that it was her, because a lot of pranksters too young for the Games and too obvious for them to attack. She has a group of young District Three members that prank the Capitol every time they do a 'benefit' that really does nothing but give her home district unwanted attention, and they end up humiliated and a bit charred. In a fight, she knows how to work with knives. She can throw as far as an arrow is launched, and is good with close combat as well. She can walk up to you as you take a drink of water, and then suddenly, the water'll go red and you'll collapse in the pool of water. She can protect her own life with mines specially placed so that anyone who doesn't have exactly her weight will get blown away without her own life being in danger. She doesn't do allies. She'll keep to herself unless asked to ally with another. Career tributes are a no-no, though. Animals raised by the Capitol themselves to do their vile bidding. She wouldn't help them if they were the last humans in Panem. If a poorer district, like Twelve, Eleven, Eight, any one of them decided to put up with her, she'd cope with them only to literally stab them in the back after they had overstayed their welcome and she did not need them. Ferra doesn't make friends. Too many risks, too little gains. Friends are overrated anyway. Right? | |
[cs=2][bg=474747] background | |
[bg=a0a0a0]ENTRIES » | [bg=9a9a9a]Eight entries; four tesserae (one tesserae for each year since she was 12 plus her normal entries) |
[bg=a0a0a0]FAMILY » | [bg=9a9a9a]Mother-Sara Lanx-Dead Father-Marcus Lanx-Dead Sister-Fyara Lanx-Dead |
[bg=a0a0a0]WEAPON/S OF CHOICE » | [bg=9a9a9a]Knives are the choice weapon, but explosives are her secret weapon. The score would probably be about 37 for knives, 45 for explosives. |
[bg=a0a0a0]FIGHTING EXPERIENCE » | [bg=9a9a9a]Been training in knife work in the training room and excelled at it, training in bombs since age ten. |
[bg=a0a0a0][cs=2]FULL HISTORY »Ferra was born to a life of poverty and sickness. Her own mother and father were very sick after her birth, and her older sister, Fyara, had to provide for the family by salvaging food. Once Ferra became five, her sister introduced Ferra to tinkering with gadgets. Ferra took an immediate knack to making strange contraptions out of nothing more than wires and not much else, and learned to help District Three's mass production industry at a very early age. By the time Ferra was seven, she was working alongside her sister in the technology factory in District Three. They worked together to support their parents, who spent most of their time in bed, trying to get over being sick and heavily vomiting. Her parents were very sick, and Ferra and Fyara worked seven days a week to try to scrape out enough money to heal their parents. Eventually, one of her parents fell to death's icy grip, and Ferra's life seemed to get infinitely worse. Without her father, life fell apart at the seams. Working seemed to become obsolete, and Fyara wasn't any better. Fyara consoled her little sister, calming her broken heart and ceasing her seemingly endless tears. Her mother only got worse and worse, and Ferra knew that there was no hope for her life. Ferra barely worked a day a week, and Fyara couldn't scrape out enough money by herself. Fyara told Ferra to do the only thing she could think of. Fyara taught little Ferra to steel herself. To prevent the emotions welling up inside poor little Ferra from coming out and preventing them from disallowing herself to work. Ferra steeled herself enough that when her mother, Sara, died of her sickness, Ferra didn't shed a single tear. Fyara had unwittingly created a monster. Ferra worked harder than most workers who had been there for their whole lives. Then, when Ferra was just nine years old, Fyara turned twelve, and was chosen for the Hunger Games. Ferra's steely nature crumbled to dust like District Thirteen, and she lashed out at the Capitol for it. Fyara died on the first day, trying to grab a weapon. Ferra was working to feed herself now. She used her technological knowledge to battle the Capitol, inventing things as tiny as snowflakes, and as useful as trackers on mockingjays and even hives of tracker jackers. Ferra gathered a group of kids just like her; wanting to fight the Capitol, equipped with knowledge of technology and explosives. After a while, the factories ceased the ability to feed Ferra by themselves, and so when Ferra was twelve, she signed up for tesserae. The food given was meager, but combined with the meager supply from the factory, Ferra was able to scrape out an existence. Ferra risked her own life to save her own life. She now waits for some Capitol member to get the message and leave District Three alone, while slowly increasing her chances at being picked for their dangerous game. She's no pawn, but she's playing right into their trap. | |
[cs=2][bg=474747] surveillance | |
[bg=a0a0a0]ALIAS » | [bg=9a9a9a]Raccoonasaurus Rex |
[bg=a0a0a0][cs=2]WRITING SAMPLE »Ferra looked around at the training center's occupants. She glanced at the Careers, all pawns of the Capitol, training for the Capitol's game. Oh, how she despised them. The Capitol's strongest pawns, all fighting for something everyone knew they'd win. She searched around for something she'd be good at; explosives couldn't be her only weapon. Axes? No, too heavy. Same with swords. Daggers? Perfect. She went up to the targets and grabbed a knife. She liked the ones with the jagged blades; more damage equals an easier win. She threw the jagged knife toward the target, it wasn't very close to the bullseye. She tried again, shifting her aim a bit. A little closer. She kept at it, and soon she was able to hit the bullseye almost every time. Explosives were still her secret weapon, but now she had one worth fighting for. Knife-throwing. |