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Godric Cross Pilgrim
GravePunchingBabyStomper Sun Aug 14, 2011 9:49 pm
- Name: Godric Cross Pilgrim
- Nickname/Alias: "Godric" or "Cross", depending on what crowd he's around. "Grim The Reaper" is one we will get to a little later..
- Age: 21
- Gender: Male
- Height/Weight: 5' 9" tall, 165lbs. Athletic build. Broad of shoulder, but lithe.
- Physical Appearance: (Pictures at bottom of page) Heavily bleached hair, nearly white with a very light-red tint to it, almost pink and it usually hangs about in messy, lank layers coated with week-old glue. Light green eyes with black flecks extending from the pupil to the outer edges of the iris almost never change, no matter how he smiles, it never touches his cool eyes. Being a fan of old victorian clothing, and steampunk fashion, he usually finds himself in dusty shades of clothing long out-dated, but generally settles for his slim, faded red trench coat which he's added thick, metal buckles and several thin, metal plates to purely for cosmetics. He also wears heavy, leather black gloves and close-fit black pants. His shin-high gothic "babystompers" as he sometimes joked, are gruesome black boots with three-four inch soles with long-since dulled studes hammered into the bottoms of them. Fairly tan when it's not snowing, and near porcelain when it is. He's clean-shaven and wears a white-edged black vest beneath his coat. Beneath the long sleeves of that coat, his arms are a mass of overlapping scars, old and new.
- Power: Ritualistic Blood Magic, having quite literally made a deal with a devil and come out unscathed, though that is debatable. (Through the act of bloodletting, he can harness the wild energies of what he calls the world of "What Is Not" freely in this world, of "What Is." The more he sacrifices, the more he gains in return. Almost always his magic plays with forms of shadow manipulation, when not altering the flows of blood itself.
- Special Traits: This guy has shed more blood than 60 virgins at a- Well, you get the point. He has a massive pain tolerance, and doesn't even need to grin and bear it, because pain is honestly and old friend of his. He also can stand more blood loss than any other human for the same reason stated. Partially out of fascination, and partly out of selfish desires, he avidly practiced throwing small objects to a deadly degree, and keeps various balanced knives all about his person, quick to hand. Immune to diseases that travel the blood, as he can rid himself of that quickly; Hard to sicken. He has extensive knowledge of the dark arts and demonology, and has delved deep within it in his desire to further himself and understand why he is so, as he sees it, cursed with this allure of the world of "What Is Not."
- Flaws: Godric is nearly a complete introvert. Not so much with the shyness, but he just doesn't care for other people and is mostly within his own head so he gets lost to reality sometimes, and his social skills are a little more than rusty. In order to harness a deeper level of strength in his ability, he has to sacrifice the use of one eye temporarily while blood energy suffuses it, creating a red aura throughout the iris. With this becoming a familiar problem it doesn't devastate his depth perception, but he is still visually blind to one side, and with excessive use of this, it affects his vision even while inactive. (It has already begun, his left eye being the one affected, if lightly.) To make things even more challenging for his social situation, when he uses large amounts of power, these.. holes.. open up randomly about his body, and look almost as if the shadow itself had eyes. It's a physical representation of the power he's drawing on and has no benefits, though it would be hard to blend in while drawing on such energy. He also has a major weakness to his shadow manipulation, though that will be revealed in roleplay as it's easily detectable by even retard standards. As mentioned earlier, he gains power through self-sacrifice. He rides the knife's edge whenever he uses his ability. Upon the brink of self-obliteration, he holds the world in the palms of his stained hands for all of the few seconds he lives.
- Weapon(s?): Sixteen balanced throwing knives of thin, black steel. Sharpened and oiled to perfection, and engraved with ritualistic markings. All of them hidden about his body with firm sheathes he had sewn into his clothing. Two between his shoulder blades, four in each boot top, two at his waist, and two in each sleeve.
- Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Catchphrase/Overused Word: "Idiot."
- Background: Birthplace and parents are entirely unknown, but he was brought up in a church in Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan, New York by the priest. Two other children (one girl and one boy almost his age) also stayed there, and were as close to friends as he ever had. Aside from sleep, they ran the streets at all times, and have seen more than most children have or even most adults, but it was all a part of the Kitchen to them and the city was a vast area to adventure in though it was nearly always raining. There was one day that, though his memory blanks out for a good portion of it, he remembers as far different than any other..
**Rain falling so steady. It's so calming, that rain. I can almost forget where I am.**
"Cross, hurry up! There's all kinds of good stuff in this guy's basket and we don't want to miss it!" she says, her bright eyes widening at the thought of not being able to snitch all of this treasure away.
"Haha. He's fuckin' sleep walkin' again." With a big grin on his face, the younger, yet taller boy looks at me. "Cross if you keep daydreaming we can't share a third with you," he jokes, I know him for a real friend, and one that wouldn't hesitate to do anything for another in our little trio.
Of course that's how it was then. It was us, and then the world.
So far away now.. That day.. I wonder what it would be like if that day never happened?
"Yeah, I guess I"ll take a look." I say, and walk over to the stranded metal cart, packed with soaked cardboard boxes full of mostly junk and worn ragged clothing. "Huh.. what's this?" The corner of a leatherbound book catches my eye, black and inlaid with some cheap silver look-a-like, but otherwise unmarked. I reach in and pick it up, the girl and boy gathering their own things and tying them up into temporary knap-sacks with clothes they rummaged out of the cart. "It's a book, duh?" the younger boy tosses as an offhand comment while shrugging the pack over his shoulder. "Come on, take it and let's head back to the church. It's already going to be dark by the time we get back." I wipe the cover of the book off with my long sleeves and glance at it once more before stuffing it in my jacket. "Idiot, I know it's a book." Shaking the rain from my bangs I follow them back to the church.
That walk home felt so long. The rain. So slow, and steady. Never faltering.
Sitting in my room that night, I had the book before me, browsing its pages. I couldn't understand most of the text except for a word or two I've seen. I knew enough to know it was latin. After a few hours of glancing at the roughly drawn pictures and the odd writing I turned the pages a few more and stopped for a moment, squinting at the text. "Hmph.. I think I know this word. Oh, that one too!" I leaned on my stomach and delved further into the book as I kicked my feet behind me and found more and more words I knew. "Maybe I've heard them somewhere and they just sound like they're written. Priest uses them sometimes." Picking up pace, not thirty minutes later I could read sentences, if brokenly enough to understand the meaning. Finally I got to a page I found interesting. "Life In Death - The Unforgiveable Pact". Basically read to me about mortals summoning demons and begging for their blessings, to gain unimagineable power if the demon did not just devour the poor human; Apparently it was for high level sorcerers to attempt. I tried turning the pages, but I was always drawn back to those particular two. Finally I ended up spooking myself, mouthing the first couple of words to the "Ritual Summoning" and glancing around, a half-smile on my face and a laugh when nothing happened. Continuing on, I uttered half of the phrase, and got that chill down my spine like I was scaring myself, and thought that all it was to be.
"..and to hold the world in the palm of my hand."
I finished, wondering at the words. It was almost instant, the darkness.
I cannot tell you where I went, or if it was the same room changed, but it was there. The it I refer to, would be something every part of my being screamed to not acknowledge, as my mortal existence could not comprehend the physical manifestation of this hideous, yet awe-inspiring creature that stood before me, a terrifying visage. "It has been long since I last fed, and your people send me a boy." it says, voice rasping like dried leaves dragged over a wooden floorboard. Raising what I could only see as its nose, it drags in a long, deep breath and closes all seven of its eyes before returning its gaze to me. "A weak one yet, I haven't eaten in three thousand of your human years." I was completely horror-struck, but I didn't know what to do. This thing fascinated me as well. "I don't want to be here." I say, as it's all that comes to mind. "Whatever I did to get here undo it. Send me back." The next noise I heard surprised me, a deep, rich laugh you would hear from any large man. "Sit down, stay for a while. We only have forever here." he says, a cruel grin revealing rows and rows of long, dagger-like teeth. "Idiot. I don't want to be here." I said, my stubbornedness kicking in while there was nothing much left. Laughter again. "Curious human boy. You are weaker than most your age, even saying humans to have any kind of strength at all, and you still fight what I know you feel. Fear. You. Fear. Me." It was not a question, it was a statement and it pissed me off. "Idiot. I want to fucking go home, okay? I don't want to play your stupid game and I don't care if you're going to eat me. If you're going to do it, do it, if you aren't, then let me fucking leave." Surprise was all I could call the odd gestation of the creature's face, then laughter once again. "No, I have something different in mind," his voice booming now, coming from all angles so that it seems to surround me, "You are so weak you cannot help yourself. I can feel the hunger to grow inside of you. I can feel the seed of ultimate selfishness deep within you. You will -never- attain that," he finishes, voice fading away as his.. body.. does as well. "I don't know what you're talk-"
I cut off, his face suddenly filling my vision as he is a breath away from me, staring into my existence and shattering it with these words.
"You will never attain that without my help. From this moment in time, you will walk the knife's edge." His voice is all I can hear. It hurts. It hurts so badly and there is a wetness to my ears. It is warm. "From this moment in time, you will hold the world in the palms of your hands." I can't see anything but him. Light, my eyes hurt. Where are the other kids when I need them? I wipe the backs of my hands on my eyes. They are wet too. Is it raining here? "Upon the brink of self-obliteration, you will hold the world in the palms of your hands!" I can't even speak. I'm in so much pain, but I cannot move. I wipe the backs of my hands on my eyes again. Wet. It must be raining. So steady. "Go, Seed of Sin." It gets darker. "Go, Child of Sufferance's Tears." I open my mouth to scream, but laughter comes out. I can't stop laughing. It's a fine joke, I think.
"Go, Grim The Reaper!" Everything goes black.
And that's where my memory stops. I don't remember anything for weeks after, though I found myself in a sickbed at a hospital in the Kitchen. I quickly ran out not bothering to find my clothes and avoided the few staff they actually employed. Running down 49th street I turned a few blocks and found what I was looking for, and half expected. The church was.. gone. Nothing there but half-cleaned pile of blackened rubble and char, and cleanup crew equipment.
That day was like no other, that's for sure.
The rain was so steady.
----|Pictures|----
Kids From The Church: Younger Girl. Younger Boy. Godric.
Playing with shadows is one of Godric's favorite past times.
Godric harnessing large amounts of his magic.
- Nickname/Alias: "Godric" or "Cross", depending on what crowd he's around. "Grim The Reaper" is one we will get to a little later..
- Age: 21
- Gender: Male
- Height/Weight: 5' 9" tall, 165lbs. Athletic build. Broad of shoulder, but lithe.
- Physical Appearance: (Pictures at bottom of page) Heavily bleached hair, nearly white with a very light-red tint to it, almost pink and it usually hangs about in messy, lank layers coated with week-old glue. Light green eyes with black flecks extending from the pupil to the outer edges of the iris almost never change, no matter how he smiles, it never touches his cool eyes. Being a fan of old victorian clothing, and steampunk fashion, he usually finds himself in dusty shades of clothing long out-dated, but generally settles for his slim, faded red trench coat which he's added thick, metal buckles and several thin, metal plates to purely for cosmetics. He also wears heavy, leather black gloves and close-fit black pants. His shin-high gothic "babystompers" as he sometimes joked, are gruesome black boots with three-four inch soles with long-since dulled studes hammered into the bottoms of them. Fairly tan when it's not snowing, and near porcelain when it is. He's clean-shaven and wears a white-edged black vest beneath his coat. Beneath the long sleeves of that coat, his arms are a mass of overlapping scars, old and new.
- Power: Ritualistic Blood Magic, having quite literally made a deal with a devil and come out unscathed, though that is debatable. (Through the act of bloodletting, he can harness the wild energies of what he calls the world of "What Is Not" freely in this world, of "What Is." The more he sacrifices, the more he gains in return. Almost always his magic plays with forms of shadow manipulation, when not altering the flows of blood itself.
- Special Traits: This guy has shed more blood than 60 virgins at a- Well, you get the point. He has a massive pain tolerance, and doesn't even need to grin and bear it, because pain is honestly and old friend of his. He also can stand more blood loss than any other human for the same reason stated. Partially out of fascination, and partly out of selfish desires, he avidly practiced throwing small objects to a deadly degree, and keeps various balanced knives all about his person, quick to hand. Immune to diseases that travel the blood, as he can rid himself of that quickly; Hard to sicken. He has extensive knowledge of the dark arts and demonology, and has delved deep within it in his desire to further himself and understand why he is so, as he sees it, cursed with this allure of the world of "What Is Not."
- Flaws: Godric is nearly a complete introvert. Not so much with the shyness, but he just doesn't care for other people and is mostly within his own head so he gets lost to reality sometimes, and his social skills are a little more than rusty. In order to harness a deeper level of strength in his ability, he has to sacrifice the use of one eye temporarily while blood energy suffuses it, creating a red aura throughout the iris. With this becoming a familiar problem it doesn't devastate his depth perception, but he is still visually blind to one side, and with excessive use of this, it affects his vision even while inactive. (It has already begun, his left eye being the one affected, if lightly.) To make things even more challenging for his social situation, when he uses large amounts of power, these.. holes.. open up randomly about his body, and look almost as if the shadow itself had eyes. It's a physical representation of the power he's drawing on and has no benefits, though it would be hard to blend in while drawing on such energy. He also has a major weakness to his shadow manipulation, though that will be revealed in roleplay as it's easily detectable by even retard standards. As mentioned earlier, he gains power through self-sacrifice. He rides the knife's edge whenever he uses his ability. Upon the brink of self-obliteration, he holds the world in the palms of his stained hands for all of the few seconds he lives.
- Weapon(s?): Sixteen balanced throwing knives of thin, black steel. Sharpened and oiled to perfection, and engraved with ritualistic markings. All of them hidden about his body with firm sheathes he had sewn into his clothing. Two between his shoulder blades, four in each boot top, two at his waist, and two in each sleeve.
- Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Catchphrase/Overused Word: "Idiot."
- Background: Birthplace and parents are entirely unknown, but he was brought up in a church in Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan, New York by the priest. Two other children (one girl and one boy almost his age) also stayed there, and were as close to friends as he ever had. Aside from sleep, they ran the streets at all times, and have seen more than most children have or even most adults, but it was all a part of the Kitchen to them and the city was a vast area to adventure in though it was nearly always raining. There was one day that, though his memory blanks out for a good portion of it, he remembers as far different than any other..
**Rain falling so steady. It's so calming, that rain. I can almost forget where I am.**
"Cross, hurry up! There's all kinds of good stuff in this guy's basket and we don't want to miss it!" she says, her bright eyes widening at the thought of not being able to snitch all of this treasure away.
"Haha. He's fuckin' sleep walkin' again." With a big grin on his face, the younger, yet taller boy looks at me. "Cross if you keep daydreaming we can't share a third with you," he jokes, I know him for a real friend, and one that wouldn't hesitate to do anything for another in our little trio.
Of course that's how it was then. It was us, and then the world.
So far away now.. That day.. I wonder what it would be like if that day never happened?
"Yeah, I guess I"ll take a look." I say, and walk over to the stranded metal cart, packed with soaked cardboard boxes full of mostly junk and worn ragged clothing. "Huh.. what's this?" The corner of a leatherbound book catches my eye, black and inlaid with some cheap silver look-a-like, but otherwise unmarked. I reach in and pick it up, the girl and boy gathering their own things and tying them up into temporary knap-sacks with clothes they rummaged out of the cart. "It's a book, duh?" the younger boy tosses as an offhand comment while shrugging the pack over his shoulder. "Come on, take it and let's head back to the church. It's already going to be dark by the time we get back." I wipe the cover of the book off with my long sleeves and glance at it once more before stuffing it in my jacket. "Idiot, I know it's a book." Shaking the rain from my bangs I follow them back to the church.
That walk home felt so long. The rain. So slow, and steady. Never faltering.
Sitting in my room that night, I had the book before me, browsing its pages. I couldn't understand most of the text except for a word or two I've seen. I knew enough to know it was latin. After a few hours of glancing at the roughly drawn pictures and the odd writing I turned the pages a few more and stopped for a moment, squinting at the text. "Hmph.. I think I know this word. Oh, that one too!" I leaned on my stomach and delved further into the book as I kicked my feet behind me and found more and more words I knew. "Maybe I've heard them somewhere and they just sound like they're written. Priest uses them sometimes." Picking up pace, not thirty minutes later I could read sentences, if brokenly enough to understand the meaning. Finally I got to a page I found interesting. "Life In Death - The Unforgiveable Pact". Basically read to me about mortals summoning demons and begging for their blessings, to gain unimagineable power if the demon did not just devour the poor human; Apparently it was for high level sorcerers to attempt. I tried turning the pages, but I was always drawn back to those particular two. Finally I ended up spooking myself, mouthing the first couple of words to the "Ritual Summoning" and glancing around, a half-smile on my face and a laugh when nothing happened. Continuing on, I uttered half of the phrase, and got that chill down my spine like I was scaring myself, and thought that all it was to be.
"..and to hold the world in the palm of my hand."
I finished, wondering at the words. It was almost instant, the darkness.
I cannot tell you where I went, or if it was the same room changed, but it was there. The it I refer to, would be something every part of my being screamed to not acknowledge, as my mortal existence could not comprehend the physical manifestation of this hideous, yet awe-inspiring creature that stood before me, a terrifying visage. "It has been long since I last fed, and your people send me a boy." it says, voice rasping like dried leaves dragged over a wooden floorboard. Raising what I could only see as its nose, it drags in a long, deep breath and closes all seven of its eyes before returning its gaze to me. "A weak one yet, I haven't eaten in three thousand of your human years." I was completely horror-struck, but I didn't know what to do. This thing fascinated me as well. "I don't want to be here." I say, as it's all that comes to mind. "Whatever I did to get here undo it. Send me back." The next noise I heard surprised me, a deep, rich laugh you would hear from any large man. "Sit down, stay for a while. We only have forever here." he says, a cruel grin revealing rows and rows of long, dagger-like teeth. "Idiot. I don't want to be here." I said, my stubbornedness kicking in while there was nothing much left. Laughter again. "Curious human boy. You are weaker than most your age, even saying humans to have any kind of strength at all, and you still fight what I know you feel. Fear. You. Fear. Me." It was not a question, it was a statement and it pissed me off. "Idiot. I want to fucking go home, okay? I don't want to play your stupid game and I don't care if you're going to eat me. If you're going to do it, do it, if you aren't, then let me fucking leave." Surprise was all I could call the odd gestation of the creature's face, then laughter once again. "No, I have something different in mind," his voice booming now, coming from all angles so that it seems to surround me, "You are so weak you cannot help yourself. I can feel the hunger to grow inside of you. I can feel the seed of ultimate selfishness deep within you. You will -never- attain that," he finishes, voice fading away as his.. body.. does as well. "I don't know what you're talk-"
I cut off, his face suddenly filling my vision as he is a breath away from me, staring into my existence and shattering it with these words.
"You will never attain that without my help. From this moment in time, you will walk the knife's edge." His voice is all I can hear. It hurts. It hurts so badly and there is a wetness to my ears. It is warm. "From this moment in time, you will hold the world in the palms of your hands." I can't see anything but him. Light, my eyes hurt. Where are the other kids when I need them? I wipe the backs of my hands on my eyes. They are wet too. Is it raining here? "Upon the brink of self-obliteration, you will hold the world in the palms of your hands!" I can't even speak. I'm in so much pain, but I cannot move. I wipe the backs of my hands on my eyes again. Wet. It must be raining. So steady. "Go, Seed of Sin." It gets darker. "Go, Child of Sufferance's Tears." I open my mouth to scream, but laughter comes out. I can't stop laughing. It's a fine joke, I think.
"Go, Grim The Reaper!" Everything goes black.
And that's where my memory stops. I don't remember anything for weeks after, though I found myself in a sickbed at a hospital in the Kitchen. I quickly ran out not bothering to find my clothes and avoided the few staff they actually employed. Running down 49th street I turned a few blocks and found what I was looking for, and half expected. The church was.. gone. Nothing there but half-cleaned pile of blackened rubble and char, and cleanup crew equipment.
That day was like no other, that's for sure.
The rain was so steady.
----|Pictures|----
Kids From The Church: Younger Girl. Younger Boy. Godric.
Playing with shadows is one of Godric's favorite past times.
Godric harnessing large amounts of his magic.
Last edited by GravePunchingBabyStomper on Thu Oct 20, 2011 8:57 pm; edited 5 times in total
GravePunchingBabyStomper- Posts : 54
Join date : 2011-08-10
Age : 33
Location : The City
Re: Godric Cross Pilgrim
DDWRINKLE Sun Aug 14, 2011 11:29 pm
Joe if I didn't know you I would say that you stole that character from something but I can't deny it. You have a great gift of an imagination pilgrim. Great character, great story, I can't wait to face him in battle.
DDWRINKLE- Posts : 113
Join date : 2011-08-03
Age : 30
Location : Clinton Twp
Re: Godric Cross Pilgrim
FourStringFingerSting Mon Aug 15, 2011 12:01 am
Hahaha, I'm very impressed, Joe.
But just be sure you're "walking the knife's edge" with this character, what with his power and whatnot. He sounds like an end-gamer. Other than that, he'll be a terrific addition to the game! Godric is accepted!
But just be sure you're "walking the knife's edge" with this character, what with his power and whatnot. He sounds like an end-gamer. Other than that, he'll be a terrific addition to the game! Godric is accepted!
FourStringFingerSting- Admin
- Posts : 125
Join date : 2011-08-02
Age : 30
Location : This-Middle-Of-Nowhere, Michigan -
Re: Godric Cross Pilgrim
GravePunchingBabyStomper Mon Aug 15, 2011 9:52 am
Thanks, guys.
And yeah, I can't stress enough how much it affects him to really strain himself. It's not, "Oh, I'll get dizzy for a bit." It's "I'm going to vomit blood for an hour to take you out." xD
And the ah.. drawback to my power that actually pertains to battle is a massive one. You guys will see immediately upon any conflict.
Just don't wanna say until then 'cause it'd be metagame even if you strive not to, and I don't want someone purposely avoiding exploiting my power just to try not to metagame, lol.
Can't wait to get this rolling!
And yeah, I can't stress enough how much it affects him to really strain himself. It's not, "Oh, I'll get dizzy for a bit." It's "I'm going to vomit blood for an hour to take you out." xD
And the ah.. drawback to my power that actually pertains to battle is a massive one. You guys will see immediately upon any conflict.
Just don't wanna say until then 'cause it'd be metagame even if you strive not to, and I don't want someone purposely avoiding exploiting my power just to try not to metagame, lol.
Can't wait to get this rolling!
GravePunchingBabyStomper- Posts : 54
Join date : 2011-08-10
Age : 33
Location : The City
Hi
Xenomorph13 Mon Aug 15, 2011 1:35 pm
Sweet character! I'm very impressed with the imagination you seem to possess. Great job! Very excited to face him in battle!
Xenomorph13- Posts : 32
Join date : 2011-08-08
Age : 31
Location : Area 51
Re: Godric Cross Pilgrim
GravePunchingBabyStomper Mon Aug 15, 2011 2:19 pm
Hey, thanks. I'm sure everyone will be gunning for me, so I'll have to stay on my toes, eh?
If anyone's curious about why that guy in the two pictures looks familiar, he's Ragna The Bloodedge from the arcade fighting game BlazBlue.
I completely revamped him in the shadowpic to my tastes, along with some minor edits to the other I'll get around to changing moreso.
I was thinking how neat it would be to have a character that somehow plays off of self-sacrifice, and when I played BlazBlue again, the title "Bloodedge" clicked. I took Ragna's image and tried to run with it, though his power was pretty limited and too simple for such a great title. (He wielded a sword that sucked the life out of whatever it hit.)
I couldn't let a trench coat like that go to waste, eh?
So once I had a physical image in my head, I twisted it until it was as wicked as I deemed appropriate. =]
And the background, well, I had a lot of fun inventing that, ahah. I like painting dramatic imagery from the eyes of a child.
If anyone's curious about why that guy in the two pictures looks familiar, he's Ragna The Bloodedge from the arcade fighting game BlazBlue.
I completely revamped him in the shadowpic to my tastes, along with some minor edits to the other I'll get around to changing moreso.
I was thinking how neat it would be to have a character that somehow plays off of self-sacrifice, and when I played BlazBlue again, the title "Bloodedge" clicked. I took Ragna's image and tried to run with it, though his power was pretty limited and too simple for such a great title. (He wielded a sword that sucked the life out of whatever it hit.)
I couldn't let a trench coat like that go to waste, eh?
So once I had a physical image in my head, I twisted it until it was as wicked as I deemed appropriate. =]
And the background, well, I had a lot of fun inventing that, ahah. I like painting dramatic imagery from the eyes of a child.
GravePunchingBabyStomper- Posts : 54
Join date : 2011-08-10
Age : 33
Location : The City
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