Post by Umune on Sept 15, 2011 19:35:14 GMT -5
IGN: Umune
Name: Umune
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Tidbits:
Umune stands approximately 5'10, with a slightly pale complexion. He tends to be brusque with strangers, and loquacious with close friends. Jerk with a heart of gold. A social pariah by his own choice.
Bio:
Ever since a young age, Umune has eschewed the company of many, in favor of a core companionship of a handful of friends. As a logical extension, he grew to hate the endless assault upon his senses that is called a city. Upon the arrival of his 17th winter, Umune left his home, his family, his friends for the cold forests. Being nothing more than a human, survival was just short of impossible. Despite the constant search for food, he still found time to read a few books he had taken shortly before he left. Lovecraft is such an interesting name.
A full decade later, he returned to his abandoned home, muttering of the coming eldritch abominations under his breath. One day, while walking in the wilderness, Umune saw an Animist for the first time; he briskly walked home and began to prepare. (Un)fortunately, his estranged friends and family could not understand his nascent perceived insanity, but that never really bothered him. Others may misconstrue his efforts as the marks of a madman; some may find him amusing; asylum dwellers empathize dearly with him.
Umune is waiting and watching, readying himself for something no one else tries to understand; he is quite sane, yet finds non-euclidean geometry quite interesting.
Umune only pretends to lie. This paradox makes logical sense, or I am a shrimp.
Ash brought me here.
Name: Umune
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Tidbits:
Umune stands approximately 5'10, with a slightly pale complexion. He tends to be brusque with strangers, and loquacious with close friends. Jerk with a heart of gold. A social pariah by his own choice.
Bio:
Ever since a young age, Umune has eschewed the company of many, in favor of a core companionship of a handful of friends. As a logical extension, he grew to hate the endless assault upon his senses that is called a city. Upon the arrival of his 17th winter, Umune left his home, his family, his friends for the cold forests. Being nothing more than a human, survival was just short of impossible. Despite the constant search for food, he still found time to read a few books he had taken shortly before he left. Lovecraft is such an interesting name.
A full decade later, he returned to his abandoned home, muttering of the coming eldritch abominations under his breath. One day, while walking in the wilderness, Umune saw an Animist for the first time; he briskly walked home and began to prepare. (Un)fortunately, his estranged friends and family could not understand his nascent perceived insanity, but that never really bothered him. Others may misconstrue his efforts as the marks of a madman; some may find him amusing; asylum dwellers empathize dearly with him.
Umune is waiting and watching, readying himself for something no one else tries to understand; he is quite sane, yet finds non-euclidean geometry quite interesting.
Umune only pretends to lie. This paradox makes logical sense, or I am a shrimp.
Ash brought me here.
