Name: Cameron Stott
Age: 14
Gender: Male
Origin: Caucasian - English
D-ban colors: Grey and Yellow
Digimon Line: Puwamon > Piyomon > Birdramon > Yatagaramon. > Minervamon
Preferred Method of Evolution: Blue Card....for now.
History: Cameron Stott was born in York, England, to Ira and Sean Stott. Complications in birth meant he was starved of oxygen for several minutes, which terrified his parents. His third birthday was interrupted by his mother going into labour. His younger sister was born the next day, with no complications whatsoever. His parents joked that he had 'smoothed the way' for her.
Around 11 years old, he joined the local acting society, taking a keen interest in fencing. He quickly raised through the ranks, and grew adept at stage fighting with blades, such as blunted daggers, and fencing swords. It always struck him that although the moves weren't directly transferable, it would give him a slight edge over those who had no ability with blades.
It has been drilled into him from a young age to protect those younger than him. As such, he's generally better received by the younger generations as opposed to the older ones, at least in the human world.
His school time was frankly boring. He did averagely at all compulsory subjects, and at the end of his 10th year, he was noted as succeeding most at Business Studies. He kept to the background through most of his school life, not trying to be popular. He stuck to his idea that his friends would be those who wanted to be friends with him, as opposed to outwardly reaching for more and more friends. His worry was that his sister's arrival at the school would upset his carefully crafted anonymity, but couldn't help but be upset when she chose to go to a different school.
RP Sample: Tick Tock, time won't stop, counting down to zeee-ro.
Cameron awoke with a start, his hand reaching fora weapon to use against this disembodied voice that had plauged his dreams for so many nights. His frantic reaching grew less though, as his mind shifted out of the nightmare.
Finally he stopped drawing his hand into his side again, and laying still as the grave on his back. His mind was still racing remember the tiny details of the dream. The little girls voice, so like his sisters, but distorted.... Somehow, inherently wrong.
With a sigh, he swung his legs out of bed until they touched the floor. The soft bristles of the carpet under his feet made him smile, and he stretched his toes out to gain more of the feeling. Stretching, and hearing a satisfying crack from his back, he stood, and made his way to the computer in the downstairs living room.
It was an ancient thing, barely able to load the internet, and frequent to crashes. Cameron pushed the power button, and sat patiently whilst it loaded. His mind drifted back to the nightmare, and he could hear the nursery rhyme in his head. The ticking of the clock offering a nice accompaniment. The screen was alive with color. Cameron wondered why his mother had chosen to start the clock.
His blood ran cold.
His house didn't have a clock. His parents said the noise drove them mad. They only had digital clocks.
Tick tock, start the clock.
Each tick was like a canon in Cameron's mind. He tried to stand up, only to slip and smash the chair, causing scrapes to appear all over his back. He turned his back on the computer screen that seemed to be leaking color into reality. Forming a hand, reaching for him....
He grabbed his coat and tried to pull himself away, only for it to slip, as the hand grabbed him and pulled him into the portal that had formed from the computer. The computer sparked but slowed down and stopped as Cameron got pulled into the portal.
Zero.
Suddenly the room shook and quivered. The computer gave one last shake and exploded outward. The floor was scorched black, and the foundations of the house shook.
