|first lesson|

Detail, you say? Hmmmm. Time to actually make a character.

Name: Jason Fulminata
Age: Unknown.
Height: You don’t really care, but…. 170 cm.
Weight: Same as Height, but around 78kg
Super Cool Backstory: Unfortunately, there is no really far back backstory here. Jason is an amnesiac, who discovered such a few years ago. Since then, he has, of course, striven to find out about his past. As usual, he has met with little success. However, he is drawn to this place to see if this is the place.
Personality: Jason is an almost-unnaturally mellow and easy-going guy. He’s a part-time wise-cracker (He has a certificate too!) and is slightly nuts. Slightly as in slightly NOT nuts. He speaks to nothing(presumably YOU) and every so often goes on rampages and tries to kill everyone within the immediate area.
Powers/Things to Know: Jason can teleport short distances, regenerate to a certain degree, and is a master with the Sword. (You have to call his sword the SWORD [Pronounced SWARD])Also, he is sometimes psycho-bonkers as mentioned above.
Weaknesses: Jason’s Regeneration is limited, so if you keep shooting him, he WILL die. Also, his teleportation has not been mastered yet, so he may teleport right into your sword or bullet.

Whew. Probably could add more, but… Meh. This is about the extent of the detail I usually put into most OCs.
So, yeah.

The sound of rubber hitting wood echoed through the dark empty room. It was the sound of a girl’s final step into the center of the room. In the darkness her dark green eyes almost appeared black. Her skin almost seemed to glow like the moon from the dim light streaming in from the doorway. Her hair was a fiery red. It was straight, reaching down to the middle of her back. Her choice of clothing happened to be a black sweatshirt draped openly over a blood red tank top. The tank managed to cover the entirety of her breasts before opening up to her pale skin. The tank top was tucked loosely into her jeans, which happened to be gray. They were of the ‘skinny’ variety and wrinkled slightly at the knees and right before they were engulfed by the black combat boots that reached the middle of her calves. She reached into her right back pocket to retrieve a match book. She unwrapped a thin tan rubber-band from around the matchbook and opened it. A few matches had been previously been broken away, leaving different lengths of broken cardboard. There were two matches left and she gripped onto one closest to the broken bits and ripped it out, leaving another broken bit of cardboard. She stroked the match across the strip found on the matchbook meant for the act of lighting a match. She held the fire in front of her face. She whispered into the dark, “My name is Christine.” The fired burned down the small stick of cardboard and licked her fingers, causing her to drop the match. “Ouch!” She brought her fingers to her lips as she stomped on the match. As soon as the sole of her boot hit the ground, the door slammed shut. She now was in complete darkness.

((This is a little bit longer than what was asked for. Please don’t kill me Q3Q))

A sob shook his body as he looked at his dead teammate, standing in front of him was a emotionless boy of sixteen. His blue eyes looked out of place with all the black he was wearing. But if you looked close enough you could see that his eyes were practically saying don’t mess with me. “W-who are you?” The man said looking up into the boy with the cold eyes. “…Max,” he said and lunged forward. Soon enough all was black for the man.