Harrow Po

NICKNAMES Po

GENDER Harrow
ORIENTATION Heterosexual


BIRTHPLACE The Riverlands
AGE Twenty-three

EYE COLOR Yellow
HAIR COLOR brown
HEIGHT Six' 0"
WEIGHT 90kgs
DISTINCTIVE MARKINGS N/A
SCARS Literally everywhere except the face
PIERCINGS N/A
TATTOOS Small delta sign inside left arm

FACE CLAIM Shanks - One Piece
MEMBER GROUP Human



To say Po is happy-go-lucky wouldn't be exactly correct, but it's close. Describing the personality of man with little to no morals is a difficult task. Whimsical and nonchalant; what captures his attention one moment may not even be worth a glance the next. Living life for himself has bred Po into a simple man. It is seldom that he'll be found in a foul mood, walking, climbing, sailing his way across the world with a wide smile on his face. Even when faced with work, he'll attack it with gusto, although work might not be the appropriate word for the methods he uses to obtain funds. In towns across Aurmata the name Harrow Po brings scowls to the faces of authority and those he has slighted, a select few who he gained favour with might smile at his mention, and that's just fine with him. In fact if he knew the extent to which he'd affected people both positively and negatively he'd probably burst out laughing.

He hadn't always been like this, a long time ago Po had cared about things, people, places. He'd been tied down to friends, a purpose, a life. The entire thing swirled into an angry maelstrom in his heart, he spewed hate from his mouth, constantly scowled, laid hands on anyone who even glanced at him wrong. That person still exists somewhere deep within, but after an epiphany, he dropped his so-called life and went in the pursuit of happiness, a skip in his step, and a large "don't mess with me" sword by his hip.

Content. That's the best word to describe Po. A man content with the way his life currently is. Happy to run away from his problems. Invigorated by the fact that worst case scenario, if put in a corner, he'd always have a way out. His anger was simply a tool, and can be dismissed as soon and easily as embraced.

FAVORABLE TO
Long walks
Strong alcohol
Fresh air
Wildlife
Himself

UNFAVORABLE TO
Cities
Problems
Nobles, the gentry, those damn bourgeoisie fools!
Taking literally anything seriously
Being tied down

ENJOYS
Napping
Travel
Creating a ruckus 

AFRAID OF
His past
Doctors

ALLIANCE Chaotic Neutral



Harrow Po was not born Harrow Po, in fact he was born Ignius Harrow. Or at least that was the name given to him by the priests in the orphanage. Abandoned as a babe, he was raised through righteous and rigorous methods, more commonly known as beatings. The 'friendly' self-centred head of the orphanage, a one Father Ignius Moore, immediately took Harrow under his wing, believing himself important enough to bestow his very own name upon the child. How very generous he was, and how blessed was Harrow to own such a first name that matched such a holy person! Unfortunately having the same first name as the very man who enjoyed causing permanent scarring to you and, more importantly, your brothers and sisters, didn't make you any friends. The punishment received from the Father was nothing compared to the solidarity he gained from just his name alone. Twelve long years he spent at that dreaded place. Twelve years of being alone before he found out the truth about the orphanage. On their twelfth birthday, they were moved from the original orphanage to different location. Placed as far as possible from Ookawa Kingdom in an attempt to prevent suspicion the second location of Scared Falls Orphanage was constructed on the orders of the old King as a training ground for children to become warriors for the crown. The daily beatings were an attempt to make the children become more accustomed to pain and weed out the weaker ones, the ones that would run away or break halfway through their training. At age twelve the real training began, awake at sunrise for swimming, quickly followed by weapons training, a short break to eat the provided grey goo that comprised their diets, then back for physical training, each day then ended with strategy teachings and more grey goo. If they were lucky, bread would be provided. The training surprisingly enough brought Harrow closer to some of the other children, even befriending one or two. They had a running bet (the prize was a half loaf of stale bread) on what exactly the grey goo was. Three times they'd been caught trying to sneak into the cafeteria in an attempt to discover the nasty smelling secrets. Three times they'd been caught and beaten. It was a hard life, but they found ways of coping.

Seven years later, nineteen years of age, arguably men and women now. The nature of their training had changed once more. Disciplined, knowledgeable, ruthless, all that remained was for them to master something, anything of their choice. Some sort after more knowledge and the mastery of strategy, some focused on their weaponry in an attempt to become the strongest. A select few who were lucky enough to have Magick focused on that, though they were few and far between. Harrow was blessed with this art, though in an unusual way, his Magick had no element, it was raw, untapped, violent, and entirely uncontrollable. He spent hours away from people training, practising trying to control it, but to no avail. Whenever he probed, it exploded out of him twisting and turning like a strong current. One moment it would rip into the ground like a claw, the next, slam into the water like a hammer. Eventually he managed to learn to direct it, but not the force it produced. Harrow never really felt inclined to master anything else though. Actually, after that, he lost all belief in the cause. Sacred Falls had been his home, but after failing in the final steps of his training he looked at his life and found it lacking. Did he really want to spend the rest of his days protecting some monarch that he hadn't even met before.

No. Not one bit.

So he left. They tried to stop him, gods knew they threw everything they had at him. But the moment he stopped caring, was the moment they failed. His friends begged and pleaded not to force the hand of their masters. But he didn't care. The moment he set off across the Riverlands was the moment he put his past behind him. In the days that followed, his gladius clashed with dozens of weapons, the owners of which he had grown up with for years. But they hadn't been taught mercy, and with each felled foe, each moment of actual combat experience, Harrow grew stronger. The closest he came to death in the next several months was when a water Magick user tried to drown him with his own drinking water. In response, Harrow unleashed his own Magick, red spikes of rage arched out of his hand into the body of this would-be murderer, the force ripped her in two, shattering her midriff and sending blood spurting everywhere. But Harrow didn't care, he just moved on.

But leaving made him happy, and that's all that mattered, cloak, gladius, and his magick. The world could bring it on, he'd do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. And he'd SUPER try and do it with a little less murder.


MOTHER N/A
FATHER N/A
SIBLINGS N/A
SIGNIFICANT OTHER N/A
CHILDREN N/A
OTHER N/A



ABILITY/POWER
Raw Magick: The extent of Po's Magick ability, his body is constantly full of a large quantity of magic, but he has no way of controlling the output, only the direction. If he ever meets a master of Magick his aim is to learn how to control this ability better. The force produced ranges from being able to shake a small tree, to shattering a large boulder. [Barely used unless as a deterrent, or life or death situation.]

WEAPONS/ARMOR
Vagabonds Cloak: This is only included because to Po it is armour. A dirty tattered cloak, full of holes and strange stains, acts as a natural deterrent against people, works well as camouflage in the wilds, and even in dire straits works pretty well as a net-like thing

Gladius: The only women he'll ever need, a short blade with sharp guards and bladed pommel. Po is arguably a master of this weapon, whilst its downfall is it's range, Po uses his skill with the blade and his fancy footwork to make up for it as best he can.

STRENGTHS
Physically strong.
Strategically minded.
Strong inner magick.

WEAKNESSES


Is afraid of his own strengths.Easily underestimates enemies.REALLY doesn't like fighting.


ALIAS: LEMON
TIME ZONE: GMT+0
OTHER CHARACTERS: N/A