C. D. - character development

so what I am doing here is creating a CD - something for developing your book's charries.

And, because I feels like creating this thread.

So, it is just a random CC with no plot. Nothin'. Just add in your charries and have them interact with other charries.

Info needed:
Book Title: (optional)
Name:
Age:
Physical appearance: (be as detailed of vague as you want)
Bio: (optional)
Extra info:

So start CC-ing!

Book Title: Rush of Blood

Name: Evangeline 'Evan' Cullen
Age:16
Physical appearance: Auburn hair, brown eyes, pale skin, 5’6”, slender
Bio: *might* be a werewolf, new to the town on {insert town name} (needs to be developed)

Name: Nicholas 'Nick'
Age: 18
Physical appearance: Black hair, golden/green eyes, 6’4”, broad shoulders
Bio: a werewolf (need to develop to add more)

Don't be afraid to join! I don't bite.

might join later

(Can I still join?)

Is this chat dead? I could really use some C.D. right now!

I don't know...Nobody has posted in a while...but we can start!

Might I join? :3

Book Title: Soulbonders (shameless advertising is shameless)
Name: Nike (pronounced "nee-kei")
Age: 18
Physical appearance: Long black hair in pigtails that hang to upper back, dark brown eyes, light skin, average height, trim, has lean muscles, wears a nondescript short-sleeved shirt and equally nondescript pants coupled with sturdy boots
Bio: (Not tellin' )
Extra info: If any characters here have the ability to see people's souls, they would notice that Nike always has a blue-eyed brown bear close to her.

Book Title: (untitled)
Name: Dylan Frieter
Age: 15
Physical appearance: Tan skin, somewhat muscular, light brown hair, blue eyes
Bio: His mother remarried two years ago to a man named Bob.
Extra Info: Used to play football, plays golf and soccer (may quit soccer)

Book Title: None as yet, I'm still playing with the ideas.
Name: Feyla
Age: 24
Physical appearance: Feyla is tall and blonde. She is very athletic, with noticeably more muscle mass than most females of her stature. She has very delicate facial features and long limbs, making her wicked fast as well as surprisingly strong.
Bio: Feyla was born as the third child of a minor nobleman. As the first and second children were to inherit the family's two manors, the only option for Feyla was to marry into another noble family or join the Clergy of the Four. She was not given th choice and was promptly shipped off to join the nearest nunnery. She did not take particularly well to life at the convent, and often ended up getting into fights, which she won almost every time. Noticing this penchant for violence and skill in combat, she was soon sent to the Monastery-Barracks to train as a Zealot, a deadly Paladin armoured in blessed plates and armed with the holy widow-maker pike. She is trained to fight all evils that may threaten the land or the clergy, from cultists and barbarians to demons and legionaries. However, the Zealots are not a typical army, as the nation already fields a large standing army. Instead, the Zealots are a form of mediaeval religious hit-squad.
Extra info: Feyla does not take well to strangers or weirdos, and arguing insultingly is ill-advised as she is strong enough to smash doors apart with her widow-maker.

(That sounds like an interesting book. Does anyone want to start this chat?)

((I dunno. I'm not really good at starting. Oh, and I switched out my character for a different one in the same book. She dresses the same way, too (for which there's a reason).))

I hope no one minds me starting. (Sorry if you do!)
Feyla: I smell something. It smells of... wet dogs? I look out of the window at the rain. Grabbing my widow-maker I stand up and throw open the door. "Hello? Anyone there?" I shout into the storm.

Nike
It's pouring, as though someone just broke open the clouds and dumped all their contents on the earth. I look around, still dizzy from the shift. All I see is dark, wet, more dark...and a light. Someone is standing at her door, calling out into the rain.
"Hello there!" I call back, the exhaustion apparent in my voice.

Feyla: A voice! I don't recognise it, but she sounds friendly. And even if she isn't, I have my widow-maker. "Come in, quickly! It could start hailing at any second."

((Oh, and I forgot to mention, Nike is Asian. Her name might not be, but she is.))

I could always make a shelter for myself underground, but I'm sort of weak at the moment. Besides, I'm not really sure what excuse I could make to keep standing out in the rain like this anyway without arousing suspicion. Or maybe I'm just overthinking this and I should get inside already. That sounds like a good plan.
I run over and enter the house, swiftly shutting the door behind me.
"Thank you, ma'am," I say. "It's very kind of you to open your home to a stranger."

Feyla:
"It's not my home. I just sought shelter here from the storm. When I saw you I was worried it might be your home. More importantly, I came here to escape from the Puppeteer."

((Sorry for the late reply >_<))

"Well, you don't need to worry. I'm just a traveler. Who's the Puppeteer?"

((It's cool))
Feyla: I usher the girl inside and set about searching the cupboards fo eatables. "The Puppeteer? Oh, he's just a malignant entity from beond the universe. He controls corpses and inanimate objects as though they were puppets, and uses them to attack people. Apparently he likes the taste of fear and suffering."
I find a leg of lamb hanging from the rafters and throw it onto the stove. I've seen it done before, so it can't be too difficult. "So, how come you're here?"

Malignant entity from beyond the universe, huh? Story of my life. Corpses and inanimate objects? I guess a water type could use the blood of a dead body, or a living one, to control it, but what of the inanimate objects? Oh, a wind type could handle that by manipulating the air around them. Maybe this Puppeteer was a wind type.
"I was fighting off my own enemies, but there were too many of them for my team and me. We scattered, so I'm just building up the energy to try to rejoin them."

"Enemies? What enemies?" I grasp the haft of the widow-maker and stare out into the storm.

((It's pronounced "see-beck," by the way.

Juggling three chats is fun x_x))

"They're called the Sybek. Don't bother looking out there for them, because you won't find them. They're cultists who think they're better than everyone else, so they're pretty much just trying to kill everybody who doesn't agree. I don't agree, so I fight them. I'm not alone, though."

"Cultist, eh? That sounds fun."

"I guess that's one way to describe it, but it's far from fun, especially when all it takes is one touch for them to kill you."

(Ooookay, how do you suggest I jump into this chat? With a normal human boy?)