Maurice "Tink" Duman

Warrior of Fate
Shujin of the Avatars

Description


Height: 6'2"
Weight: 208 lb.
Ethnicity: Black
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Bald; black mustache
Clothing: Black casual
Comportment/Cadence: Confident
Distinctions: Bodybuilder muscles
Supernatural Qualities: Too scary to gaze at for long
Accoutrements: Hidden weapons
Traits: Appearance 3; Arcane 2

"I’ll take that doodad. Alright, now smoke ‘im."

History


Date of Birth: January 22nd, 1964
Home: Watts, Compton, Los Angeles, California, United States
Family: Wanda & Maurice Duman (Maurice is his stepfather), Daood Duman (half-brother)
The Awakening: External Supernatural Trigger (Ricky enjoined him and the boys in the original Avatar ritual), 1988
Mentor: Daood Duman
The Test: Trial by Knowledge (as a founding Avatar, no real test was needed, but Daood made sure Tink understood how the sect rituals worked)
Comrades: Ricky Smith, Daood Duman, Dexter Wright, Kamau Alseif, Allison Smith
Key Event #1: War (constant battles with the Hordlings)
Key Event #2: Awe & Wonder (discovered his knack for simulating technomagick into non-magickal hypertech)
Transition: Shift in Purpose (retooled from "strong man" brawling to preparing his friends for the fights to come)

Weakness
Brother


Tink stands by Daood and the crew no matter what. No matter what. It's not blind loyalty. He knows the crew is probably heading to death. But what a death it'll be!

Likelihood of Corruption

Very high.

He's an Avatar of Fate. They're the definition of corruption in this world of darkness. They're so corrupt that they've turned corruption itself inside out: heroes and monsters at the same time.

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"I'm in the darkness, heartless,
Fuck you regardless,
Move with hardness,
Y'all just pressin charges,
It's often injury,
Floss and force my entry,
This penitentiary, knockin' dem niggers for centuries,
It's elementary like KRS and evidently incidents,
They all stress, I'm lawless, that's my problem,
Evolve and never solve them,
Chill in Harlem, bang you, bring you stardom,
You full of boredom, bastard, you been aborted,
Bring your neck out, bring the tech out, absorb it,
See you check out, and then step out the orbit,
Blow your flesh out, till I'm fresh out my torment,
Street apostle, pop shit, preach the Gospel,
Still I'm hostile, sippin a deuce when possible,
Turn into a monster, grouchy, gimme the Oscar,
Hit you like vodka,
Then screech off in a Mazda.
He said yeah you better come out with your hands up,
We got you surrounded,
I'm in the back changin’ my outfit,
He said blink we gonna send the hounds in,
I said wait cuz here I come,
Here I come, here I come,
You boys get ready cuz here I come,
Here I come,
Here I come."

 - The Roots, “Here I Come”