Jamie William Frazier

[attr="class","apptop"]name: [attr="class","appanswer"] Jameson William Frazier [attr="class","apptop"]age: [attr="class","appanswer"] 258 [attr="class","apptop"]birthday: [attr="class","appanswer"] July 14, 1763 [attr="class","apptop"]sexuality: [attr="class","appanswer"] Straight [attr="class","apptop"]realm: [attr="class","appanswer"] Green realm [attr="class","apptop"]power: [attr="class","appanswer"] Accelerated Cell Regeneration [attr="class","apptop"]play by: [attr="class","appanswer"] Charlelie Colas [attr="class","apptop"]roleplayer: [attr="class","appanswer"] Rachel

[PTabbedContent] [PTab=POWER] [attr="class","appcon"]Abilities: Can heal from injuries very quickly and also ages at a very slow rate. [attr="class","appcon"]Explanation of Power: People are obsessed with youth, obsessed with looks and what science can do to repair the damage that time and their own impulses has caused on their body. There are creams, surgeries, and silly homemade treatments that all claim to keep you young, get rid of scars, or reverse the effects of aging. I don't have to worry about any of that though, because I'm the real deal. My power gives me the ability to heal quickly in events of extreme trauma. It also replaces the cells lost due to aging at a faster rate than any other human. That's why I look like I'm 22 and I'm free of scars, but I've gone through more pain and life threatening violence than anyone living today. That's not all that miraculous though right? Lots of guys can look younger than they actually are. The only difference is that I look about 230 years younger than I actually am...yeah, I'm that old. My power uses mana in such a way that when I over exert it, it runs out and I stop healing. That being said, I've had quite a long time to perfect my skills and ultimately only highly stressful injuries can deplete my mana to the point where I can no longer use my power. When I do lose my power or drain all my mana, I don't suddenly become 258 years old physically. I'm not under some magic spell and I'm not doing some kind of illusion, my cells physically are around 22 years old because they are constantly healing and replacing older, 'damaged' cells. The worst thing that happens to me age-wise when I run out of mana is that I age at a normal rate for as long as my mana is gone, which usually isn't very long. [attr="class","appcon"]Ubeity: [/PTab={max-height:200px;min-height:200px;}][PTab=APPEARANCE] [attr="class","appcon"]Height: 6'1" [attr="class","appcon"]Hair Color: Dirty Blonde [attr="class","appcon"]Eye color: Yellow-Brown [attr="class","appcon"]Play By: Charlelie Colas [attr="class","appcon"]General Appearance: I'm pretty confident in the fact that I look good for being 258 years old. I'm fit and I'm healthy and in today's demands, my looks are desirable. Honestly I'm just an average American male. Well, I guess I'm more physically average than anything else. There will always be that part of me that separates me from everyone else, the part that makes it necessary for me to move around all the time so that no one notices that I'm not aging, the part that leads me to make references not in line with the time period I'm in. For that reason, I have to try to be average and I have to try to blend in. I've gone through every decade of style and attitude that the United States has seen. I had bell bottoms, I rocked a mullet, I wore those awful petticoats way back in the day, but now I'm completely in trend with this century. So sure, I've been told that I'm pretty attractive, but mostly I just try to blend in. [/PTab={max-height:200px;min-height:200px;}][PTab=PERSONALITY] [attr="class","appcon"]Likes: Combat training, learning about other people, hiking, fall, women, helping people. [attr="class","appcon"]Dislikes: Liars, disrespect, celery, greed, schedules, unnecessary deaths. [attr="class","appcon"]General Personality: My personality is a tricky thing to talk about. I've been around long enough to have learned that most people change their personality to fit in with those around them. Everyone's searching for acceptance or some bullshit like that. Don't get me wrong though, I'm not saying I'm any different. I kind of adapt to those around me, especially when I'm training. If a person needs someone gentle and kind, that's what I'll be for them. If they end up having a huge ego, I'll give them the kick in the ass they need to realize that everyone has room for improvement. So yeah, I change to be whatever I'm needed as, but I suppose I do have a base personality. I'm a bit strict on rules, but not so much on other people's rules or time frames. Whatever boundaries I give are set in stone and it pisses me off when students try to get around them. On the other hand I'm a pretty forgiving person, I kind of have to be because of how I've decided to use my power. And with me not everything is work. I've watched a lot of people waste their lives without anything enjoyable so I'm more inclined to help others enjoy the little things. I laugh a lot and despite my age I still act like I'm really young. It gets a bit difficult sometimes because I'm expected to be serious due to my age and everything I've been through (sometimes that catches up with me and I have moments of intense sadness, loss, or a feeling of emptiness as I've watched everything I once knew wither away) but I just can't help it. I'm living and so I need to live, not just settle with watching everything pass me by. I'm not very keen on relationships simply because I know that eventually they'll grow old and I'll have to watch them go away, but I am a very passionate person. Rather than turn me into a cold person, my experiences have made me feel everything so much more intensely. If I fall in love, I fall hard, but I know that it would just end in sadness so I try very hard to keep people at a distance. I find that the best way to do that is to make sure the other person knows I'm not cut out for commitment, even though I really wish I was. [/PTab={max-height:200px;min-height:200px;}][PTab=HISTORY] [attr="class","appcon"]Family: George Frazier (deceased) and Margaret Frazier (deceased) [attr="class","appcon"]History: I was born on American soil 12 years before the American Revolution started. My parents were sympathetic to the "yankee" cause and naturally I grew up with their beliefs. I'd always been a very passionate child especially because the tension between England and the American Colonies hit my hometown of Boston particularly hard. When the war started I was one of the first to volunteer alongside my father. Unfortunately, I was deemed too young to join. About three years into the war, they finally let me in mostly because they needed as many able-bodied men as they could find. By that time my father had already been seriously injured and had returned to our home. That left me I was the only able-bodied male in our house. The youth of the 21st century is taught a lot about the American Revolution, but the pages don't do it justice. War was a shock for me. Here I thought I would be a great hero, ending the war with a single pistol shot and being adored by all, but that was hardly the reality. I watched people I knew die all around me in horrible and awful ways. During the day there was fighting and patrols and constant travel to keep us occupied and while that was terrifying, it didn't have anything on nighttime. It was hard to sleep because we knew that the Red Coats could happen upon our camp at any time. And then when we did fall asleep we were plagued by awful nightmares or awoken with racing hearts by canon fire in the distance. It was the waiting at night that was the worst, because we couldn't turn our minds off like we could in battle, we were awake to everything. Eventually, the big battle came, and I was on the front lines. Today people know it as the Battle of Yorktown, but for me it was a whole new terror in the war. It was terrifying in the beginning, because this wasn't simply a one day battle. I was used to small confrontations and the deaths that came from that, but there was so much bloodshed and the sound of guns and canons firing seemed to never stop. Even though I'd been in service for a few years, my still young 18 year old eyes were wide with an almost robotic fear. This was something else, this was something that would decide everything. Two days into the battle, my squadron was cornered and I was shot through the chest. Despite the unreliability of pistols back then, the bullet had gone straight into my heart. That was it for me, I was absolutely sure of it as I lay there feeling my veins empty of blood without a heartbeat to fill them. I closed my eyes to darkness, but when I woke up I wasn't greeted with the light of heaven that I had been raised to expect from death. Instead, there was more darkness and an awful stench accompanied by a horrible wailing noise. I thought that I must be in hell, but then as I sat up I realized I was in a medical tent. My clothes were drenched in blood, there was a hole in my shirt right were the bullet had driven into my heart, but there wasn't a scratch on me. A nurse approached me upon realizing that I seemed to have recovered enough to sit up. She told me I must have been hit over the head, as I had been asleep for the past 24 hours. I was shocked. There was no mistaking the fact that I should have been dead, but that there was now no evidence that I had been shot at all. Only an hour later I was sent back out into the field. We won that war, just like we won all the other wars that I've lived through in my extended lifetime, but it was the American Revolution that changed me, that made me realize that I was different than those around me. I'd only thought that I was invincible or something like that, but as the years went on and I stayed the same while everyone I knew grew older, I realized that the ability to heal was not the only gift I had. Modern medicine would help me later on to understand that what I had was accelerated cell regeneration, but all I knew at that point was that I was both immortal and seemingly invincible. By the time the Civil War hit the US, both of my parents were long gone and I was still just as young as I had been when the American Revolution ended. For some reason I felt obligated to continue to serve my country again, especially since I discovered my extreme abilities of self healing more in the time between the two wars. I needed to use my gift for something good, I wanted to save lives, if only to make up for all the lives I watched get snuffed out by mortality. I fought in every war following that, trying to make up for the fact that I didn't die by trying to save the lives of others. My gift is both a blessing and a curse, a heavy burden to bear. For a long time I thought the best use of it was in saving lives through combat, but I've begun to realize that I can't do that for much longer. I've witnessed far too much death, and now I have to witness it again. My world is falling apart and my hope that I have not seen so much bad that I will never be able to see the good again is fading fast. [/PTab={max-height:200px;min-height:200px;}] [PTab=ROLEPLAY] He was dying, that much he knew. Jamie was dying an there was nothing he could do to stop it. His chest crushed, his face bloodied and his limbs mangled, he lay there on the pavement, his lungs trying to draw in air uselessly as they were already full of blood. But he couldn't die, not when his body could heal itself, not that it could actually heal with the telephone pole laying across his chest. Of course at that point with the pain and the feeling of drowning without water, Jamie felt like he'd rather be dead. This is what he got for trying to help someone. He'd been walking through the lower part of manhattan, not the smartest idea to begin with, when he came upon two men beating the shit out of a younger boy. They were supposed to be policemen, supposed to keep the peace in this chaotic city, but instead they were the biggest problem. At times Jamie thought it would be easier to reason with one of the dragons that lit up the sky to the north of them with their nonstop fighting than it would be to reason with the pathetic men that Bolas used for puppets. Actually, he was certain it would be easier, but he couldn't stop himself. The kid was alone, he didn't seem to have powers, or at least any that were helping him, and he was sobbing where he lay on the ground with batons falling cruelly all over his body. Jamie grabbed one of them by the collar, using the surprise of the other man to shove him away before he up and decked the other man, his knuckles screaming in protest, although he was sure the man's nose hurt more. He stood in front of the boy, blocking him with his body, a grin that didn't reach his eyes plastered on his face, "how about you pick on someone your own size boys?" Unfortunately, while he'd been able to easily figure out that the boy had no powers, he hadn't stopped to think about what powers the men might have. As it turned out, one was telekinetic and very fond of using large objects to crush people while the other was just a human with a serious anger issue. He'd managed to bloody them both up before he found out about the fondness for crushing people, but Jamie soon found himself smashed by several things, including a dumpster, a ladder, and finally the pole. They thought he was dead, obviously, because they walked away laughing. And maybe he would die if he was stuck there long enough. Just as that thought crossed his mind, Jamie felt the pole shifting. Looking to his side, he could just barely make out the boy who'd been beaten by the two. The pain moved locations as the boy rolled the poll down off his body over his legs. Now he could heal, but he still couldn't breath. Gasping for air, the last thing he saw was the boy sitting down next to him. When he finally woke up, Jamie was pretty much healed, but he was greeted by the site of the boy again, bruised in many places and bloodied in others. Jamie stood up slowly, holding out his hand for the kid, "come on, let's get you back to your parents." He owed him that he supposed, but the kid just shook his head and said, "I don't have those." And as Jamie looked down at him he realized what this was...war. [/PTab={max-height:200px;min-height:200px;}][/PTabbedContent={max-height:200px;min-height:200px;}]