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[color=#151B54][b]Username:[/b][/color] metal
[color=#151B54][b]Name:[/b][/color] Victor “Vic” Martel
[spoiler][color=#151B54][b]Age:[/b][/color] 25
[color=#151B54][b]Gender:[/b][/color] male
[color=#151B54][b]Appearance:[/b][/color] 
[img]http://bloximages.newyork1.vip.townnews.com/santafenewmexican.com/content/tncms/assets/v3/editorial/6/8f/68f64113-1532-56e1-94f0-9373bef590d2/5157aa3e7cf92.preview-300.jpg[/img]
The first thing you’ll notice about Victor is how skinny he is. He’s frail, almost unhealthily so, and one would wonder how he could sustain himself off such a small amount of body fat. He has a gaunt look about him, giving off a sickly look to all nearby. 
He’s just a bit taller than most guys his age, and his limbs are long and lithe. His face, on the other hand, is blemished and cracked after years of poor hygiene, but he has a cropping of freckles the seem to make his complexion appear even worse. His eyes, many note, are a piercing blue that seem to be the brightest part of his body, but his shaggy hair tends to cover them. His hair, at that, is a light brunette, and Vic hasn’t cut it in a long time. His facial hair, on the other hand, looks to be the only well-groomed part of his body; he’s got a healthy stalk of hair growing from his chin that seems to be his one pride and joy. 
He prefers to wear baggy, long-sleeved shirts in order to cover his old track marks. He likes to wear practical, loose sweatpants, and he’s a fan of general lounging clothes. He can generally be found wearing a pair of tattered sneakers that he’s been wearing for years, but they are just barely holding together. 
[color=#151B54][b]Personality:[/b][/color] When you start talking to Vic, you can almost immediately recognize how intelligent he is. He’s got the mind of an artist, a tortured soul without a way to express himself, a paintbrush without a canvas. He’s got a firecracker wit and an intuitive thought-process that lets him fill in the dots, and Vic is a savant when it comes to people and their interactions. He is something of a wordsmith, and his eloquent vocabulary is belied by his unkempt appearance.
Despite his wide range of knowledge, Victor can be very submissive. He has a strong self-preservation instinct, and when presented with overwhelming force, he tends to back away. This tolerant behavior is a direct result of his formerly destructive behavior; he has such a low opinion of himself that he’s more then willing to accept the short end of the stick. 
Due to his self-loathing disposition, Victor is frustrated and tired. Every time he tries to make a change for the better, he digs himself deeper since he never has his best interests at heart. His worst enemy is himself, and it’s always an uphill battle. 
[color=#151B54][b]History:[/b][/color] Victor has always been a unique guy. When he was a kid, he had a great love for the simple things in life, and he had a strong desire to buck against the guys up top for the sake of authenticity. His parents, however, had a very different opinion of the world, and their reinforcement only served to stifle Victor’s creativity and his passion. Without a proper outlet, Vic was never able to express himself, and he seems to believe that this restriction enforced by his parents was what started his problems. Needless to say, he’s estranged from the rest of his family. 
It was around this time that Vic met Marley. The two of them had a similar thought-processes; they were two kids with a lot of bottled-up anger, and it was through this resentment that they understood one another. Where one went, the other followed, but Marley seemed to do a lot of the leading. He was bigger, tougher, more charismatic, extraverted, and gifted with the mind of a philosopher. Marley started playing soccer, so Vic played soccer. Marley joined the chorus, so Vic joined the chorus. Marley joined a jazz band, so Vic learned how to play the saxophone. This cycle went on until they were fifteen, and Vic decided to take the lead. 
Soon, Vic and Marley got into drugs. It was a gradual dip; first cigarettes, then weed, deeper and deeper, they grew disconnected from the rest of the world. They moved from cocaine to heroin, from buying to dealing, and their entire existence seemed to be devoted to be bucking against a system that didn’t care for them. Then Marley died of an overdose. 
Not only did Vic lose his friend, he lost the rock that he depended on as well as all his faith. He entered a rehabilitation center when he was twenty, and while the road to recovery was long, he was able to go clean after receiving outside assistance. For two years, he wallowed in a shell of self-hatred, having come to the conclusion that he was responsible for his friends’ death. 
One night, as he laid in his hospital bed, he had an odd dream. A being referring to itself as “The Creator” approached Vic while he slept and asked him what he wanted most in the world.
The answer was obvious. “I want my friend back,” Victor said. And thus, his wish was granted. 
But his wish was twisted. Rather than Marley, a colossal dog sat at the foot of Vic’s bed, watching him with a blank stare. The dog wore a collar with a simple phrase upon it: “The Dwarf.” With no suitable name to give the creature, Vic referred to the dog simply as “the Dwarf” from then on. 
The Dwarf’s origins were a complete mystery to Victor, and he often wondered how he was stuck with the animal. Everywhere he went, the Dwarf followed, it’s tongue lolling out happily as it followed it’s new master. Was it related to Marley? But how? He had no way of knowing, and no way to shake the dog off his tail.
But the oddest thing was that Victor was the only one who could see the Dwarf. He and the three foot tall monster walked around all of creation, and never did a single person acknowledge the giant demonic dog following Victor. The dog was tangible; he could pet the Dwarf and feel it’s rough coat. Soon, Victor began fearing for his own sanity, wondering if he’d finally gone mad and the dog was just an elaborate hallucination. The Dwarf soon became a constant reminder of Victor’s failures and an ominous figure in his life. And still, the dog followed after Victor with its big grin. 
When the Creator approached Victor again, the man chose is words carefully. “I want a do-over, a clean-slate.” And, of course, the Creator was happy to comply. 
[color=#151B54][b]Attribute:[/b][/color] Familiar
[color=#151B54][b]Ability:[/b][/color] Victor was gifted with [url=http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs4/i/2005/139/2/9/Flip_Top_Hellhound_by_nachtwulf.jpg]the Dwarf[/url], a three foot tall creature that can only be described as a mythical hell-hound. The beast is relatively docile, and will only growl in the presence of a truly evil being. Other than that, it does not interact with the outside world in any way. Victor is the only one who can see or touch it, and the beast is unaffected by the physical world. 
[color=#151B54][b]Other:[/b][/color] Victor used to be a talented saxophonist before being sent to the rift. [/spoiler]