Information
Nickerbocker has a minion!
Muchu the Double Dragon
Muchu the Double Dragon
Nickerbocker
Legacy Name: Nickerbocker
The
Chibi KeetoOwner:
MiniSynAge: 14 years, 1 month, 1 day
Born: March 24th, 2010
Adopted: 7 years, 2 weeks, 1 day ago
Adopted: April 10th, 2017
Statistics
- Level: 34
- Strength: 86
- Defense: 85
- Speed: 84
- Health: 85
- HP: 80/85
- Intelligence: 120
- Books Read: 119
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Register Clerk
Real name:
Alias: Nickie
Age: 4 human years
Originally a Kumos, used Natural Telenine Elixir, used Natural Keeto Elixir, used Chibi Potion...
...all in the same day! - 24/03/10
Reached 100 IQ! - 28/03/10
.PAST.
Nicholas Jones was like any other 3 year old. Playful, giddy, friendly toward everyone he met. Got up at nine, went to bed at eight, ate all his dinner, played with his toys. He just went about the day scribbling inside colouring books for hours on end, up until the point his hand would cramp and he'd have to use the other. This trained him over time; he learned how to be ambidexterous before even managing to say the simplest words. Mommy. Daddy. With either hand he later began writing down random letters, with the usual aid of his mother, who would write a letter for him to try and copy out, and then say it aloud for him to repeat. This continued up until he'd learned most of the alphabet, but only lower case. He struggled with capital letters, and it would take time.
Nonetheless, as far as he was concerned, little Nick's life was absolutely perfect. He hadn't a care in the world; his caring, affectionate mother was always there when he needed her, and she always tended to his upmost needs. And his father... he rarely saw him, due to his working hours stretching from six in the morning until ten at night, by which Nick was far too sound asleep to be awoken by his noisy shuffling through the front door, and the sound of him kicking off his shoes, and the clunk his suitcase made as he rested it by the stairs, but he loved him extremely when he was able to spend time with him.
There were times when his father had the day off, and this made Nick ecstatic. His father, like his mother, was affectionate, but also talked to him often. And even if Nick never understood the words, he could feel them with his heart, and he held onto them dearly. Some words he could pick up, such as his name, Nickie, but his dad would sometimes call him Nickerbocker as it was his most favourite song. He wasn't sure what exactly "Nickerbocker" meant, or what in the world it was, but all that mattered was that he was sprawled out on the sofa being tickled to tears by his dad.
What could be better?
Rain poured in sheets down the entire road, patting and drumming on the roof like a watery drumming band falling from the sky. The clouds had bundled into one huge cotton bush, but were heavily painted with a saddening shade of gray. Lightning threatened to strike - the powerful clapping of thunder sent numerous warnings throughout the town, and great shivers down little Nick's spine. Tears fell from his curious, green eyes like the rain fell outside, dampening the earth with its sorrow. This time, the tears weren't from endless tickling from gentle hands. Bruises and cuts caked his skin, and patches of blood had sunk into his bedroom carpet. His toys sat untouched on top of his wardrobe, collecting dust.
As those footsteps erupted from the hallway again, his eyes whipped to the door, open just a crack, making light filter in to his bedroom in which he had made an artificial night. Not because he chose too - the bulb in the ceiling light, and even the bulb in his football-spotted lamp had long been replaced. Young Nick whimpered, knowing what was about to come. As the footsteps grew louder and louder, a tall silhouette emerged in the doorway.
"You little bastard!" roared the angry voice of his step-dad, causing Nick's heart to jump. He turned his head to the blood-stained carpet and closed his eyes tight, waiting for the pain to be repeated from yesterday, the day before, the day before that... he curled his fingers into the carpet, wishing it had never been his 4th Birthday.
On his 4th Birthday, Nick's father was driving home early to celebrate, as approved by his good-spirited boss. It was quite foggy that day and he was involved in a fatal car accident, in which he died shortly after in hospital. Grieve-stricken, his mother ignored Nick as he asked for attention and only sat there at the living room table, staring into space. Then, one day, she left the house, only to return with another man. "Nickie, darling. This is your new father."
Smack. Crunch. Another broken bone. Probably his rib, it did feel like it was burning. His step-father had thrown him to the wall, and he collapsed, hiccuping through uncontrollable tears. Where was his mother? Why wasn't she protecting him?
More and more blows fired toward little Nick; at the face, the stomach, and even the back. He felt like he was burning everywhere. Maybe all his bones had broken? His step-dad had retreated the room now; sirens blared from outside, with uniformed men kicking down the door. But everything was distant now - the cries that were trying to find him, the sirens, the continous chattering, the angry, drunken protests of his abusive step-father. Now that his true father had gone, and his mother, it seemed, nothing mattered anymore to young Nick. Black dots invaded his vision, and everything blurred. He slowly closed his eyes and tilted his head to rest on the bloody carpet, and drifted off to be with his father once again, and to be free from this neglect and abuse.
"Nickerbocker's coming, Daddy. I love you."