Daken

[Daken waits a moment for the camera to focus.  He's an attractive, exotic (as if you can't place exactly where he's from--but it's half asian) man who appears to be in his mid 20s, with a long, floppy mohawk that sits neatly on his head.  He's wearing an expensive Italian shirt with the first three buttons undone, revealing part of the tribal tattoo that covers half his chest and his left arm.  He takes a breath and starts.]

Hello.  I've noticed that several of you have started video logs, and I suppose I should as well.  I don't like being left out, after all.  My name is Daken, and like you, I am stuck here for as long as my timeline is corrupted.

[He pauses, as if trying to figure out what else to say.]

I've encountered some of you already, and it seems we all cover such vastly different walks of life.  There are heroes, death gods, renaissance men, countries...  Hmph, and just when you think you've seen everything, you realize you haven't.  Ah well, I'm sure we'll all get to know one another soon enough anyway.  The island doesn't seem to be that large.

[Looking sincere is hard.]

Well, Good luck, everyone, on trying to get home.  If anyone needs help with anything, leave me a response. I have more time than I know what to do with.

[He's lost in thought as he moves to turn the camera off.  Here, he has a blank slate.  No one knows him, no one knows what he's done...  or what he's capable of.  This is the ace in his sleeve, and he's going to keep it as close to him as possible.  This will be his biggest deception yet.]