Name: Amos Williams
ARM: Mjolnir Mark Y-UF88 (Winchester Rifle)
Tools: [Bread Crumbs] Marks areas Amos has visited, ensuring he doesn’t get lost.
From head to toe, Amos was the quintessential cowboy, although he wasn’t particularly striking or memorable. On his head wore a light-gray ten-gallon hat that veiled a small portion of his face. Underneath his hat, his auburn hair was becoming charred and slowly graying. The “salt and pepper” was thoroughly spread out over his head. However, his gradually graying hair was not due to age, but rather stress.
Amos Williams has a relatively ambiguous, yet distinguished personality.
As evidenced by his style of dress, Amos is a minimalist of sorts; he is extremely carefree when it comes to personal vices and troubles; although he lets the troubles of the world bother him.
In addition, he also has a genuine interest in astronomy. Amos, an avid stargazer, loves observing every aspect of nature and the serenity of natural life. In this sense, he is quite the romantic. When Amos is not patrolling his town of Happy Alex, or killing off the beasts that plague the area around his town, he can be found working on his ARM or reading mechanical and astronomy manuals.
Although Amos is very carefree and may seem to have his head in the clouds at times (or in his case the stars,) he is not at all vapid, but instead is a very shrewd man. His family was very affluent at one time, but Amos tries his best not to judge individuals based on class differences.
Regardless of the affluence of Amos's family, he was not brought up as a spoiled child. Although he led a privileged childhood, his father, who was also once the Sheriff of Happy Alex, instilled good morals into Amos.
He is calm and collected when presented with a challenge or confrontation. Although he is somewhat low-maintenance and passive in some areas of life, he is a genuinely compassionate, friendly and personable individual who will not hesitate to help those in need, regardless of whether or not he likes them. Amos has been described as lazy, but this is simply because he isn't easily inspired and finds many things a waste of time such as washing the dishes or making his bed.
Sherriff Williams, as he’s sometimes called, is often authoritative and quick to pick up the slack of others, even when insecure about his abilities. His job assures that being decisive is a prerequisite, as he wastes no time in making a decision or assuming the role of leader, if nobody else steps forth to do so. He secretly gets some degree of satisfaction in having people follow him and listen to what he preaches, but Amos also appreciates the support of others.
Amos Williams is not all that different from your average Joe in that he enjoys the simple things in life, in addition to being somewhat lazy (although Amos would disagree) and a bit of a slob. But don’t let his over-passiveness be misconstrued as having a timid demeanor; Amos is not afraid to have all eyes on him and has no qualms about speaking to a large group of people. Often those who exert confidence and authority are the people of whose words we take heed. With his educational and professional background, Amos has the smarts and wherewithal to take control when needed.
• Writing Sample:
In the quaint, almost indiscernible, township of Novam, life seems to stand still. The humble countryside town gets very few visitors throughout the year and when they do, the whole town is in a ruckus and scrambles to acquire information about this new visitor. But on this dreary Autumn night, the whole town is in a ruckus to fend themselves from a horde of new visitors. The town hasn't seen this many visitors in decades, but the citizens of Novam are much too busy hacking and slashing to find out anything about their "visitors."
A loud crunch noise is heard - the sound of wood collapsing. A group of robed men in black garb have breached the city wall and are pouring in like water from a faucet, into the town of Novam.
"Fall back! Everyone move towards the town square! Fall back!" a young General called to his soldiers.
The group hesitated leaving the bodies of their fallen comrades there, but quickly made up their minds as the advance of the robed men continued. The last remaining fortunate soldiers sprinted to Ye Olde Ale, a pub-inn which on any given night was a place for cameradarie, but tonight it is a haven for the soldiers.
"Barricade the door! Stop them from getting in," a young Cleric shouted to his allies by the door.
The soldiers grabbed an oak wood plank and sealed the door shut. Thudding and pounding could be heard on the other side as the hinges of the door trembled. As the robed men gathered and coalesced outside of the inn, everyone's mind began to race. For now, they were in a sanctuary, but the small militia had barricaded themselves indoors with absolutely no supplies.
The young Cleric looked towards his friends, an Archer, Warrior and Sorceress, with a look of desperation.
"What shall we do?" the Cleric asked his friends. "We can't stay in here forever..."
"Sounds like a good idea, Kallen," Set replied.
He quickly scanned the room for anything that might potentially help his party, but found nothing. He did, however, see many of his wounded comrades, doubled over in pain on the floor. Although his curative magic was weak, it would provide some temporary relief to the soldiers and it was Set Palais's duty to keep their morale up.
"Uggggh," groaned a wounded soulder. He winced painfully and grinded his teeth as he clutched his stomach - a prominent wound was seeping blood steadily and the infantryman was going pale.
Set only knew basic curative magic and it wouldn't do much to alleviate the man's wounds, but he had to try.
"Step aside, I'm a Cleric." Set commanded, and the remaining soldiers that were huddled around their wounded comrade moved away.
"This won't mend your wound fully, friend, but hopefully it will help you feel better," the Cleric informed the soldier of his intention to "operate" on him. Set closed his eyes, hovered his palms a few inches away from the soldier's wound and concentrated. Pretty soon, a group of faint blue light, in the shape of orbs, began to emanate from Set's palms and spread out over the wound. The dim sky-blue lights suddenly brightened for a split second, first once, then two more times. Set opened his eyes and spoke: "How's that? Hopefully that mended your wound somewhat, comrade."
"Th-that...was amazing. Thank you! I feel magnitudes better and I think you stopped the bleeding," the soldier caressed his wound to ascertain the state it was in and was shocked to find that his skin had regrown over it and a scab was beginning to form. He stood up energetically as if to say "look, I'm fine," however when he stood, realized that there was still some minor pain in the area, but nothing a military man wouldn't be able to tough out. "Sire, I've no pain at all! Thank you," the soldier lied as if trying to appease the Cleric for his deed. Set's fellow soldiers, seemingly distracted from the onslaught of enemies outside of the pub, watched Set's healing magic work and their spirits seemed higher - almost as if a weight was lifted.