Kaislynn's Portfolio of Panik
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Kaislynn''s Portfolio of Panik
by Kaislynn Sun May 17, 2009 2:41 pm
Hello character library. Although I do like to create characters, I have never been the type to keep myself to a specific set. I prefer to create a new character for most role plays I join. The creative process of tailoring a new character for the specific situation is exhilarating. However, when I do end up creating a character that I really like, I keep them around. Thus I expect that this thread will grow with new characters that I create. But please feel free to pm about any of these characters if you're interested in getting them involved in a role play. They will be up here because I enjoy them. 
I play both male and female characters. When on general message boards, I prefer male's because I feel that those characters have more freedom in response to all the little whipper snapping females. However, I equally enjoy playing both. I also enjoy new and unexpected things within those characters: inept, not quite pretty, and characters that don't know everything are more interesting than the run-of-the-mill hero/villain/side-kick/stock.
Below will be several characters, with some I may post some piece of writing that introduces them--in addition to the rest of their biographical information. Some of these might not be near as detailed as the other lovely character libraries that I've been browsing (Fate and Shades, lovely, really), but the characters are complex and rounded--which I will endeavor to make clear.
Thus with said disclaimers, notes, and squibbles, enjoy.
I play both male and female characters. When on general message boards, I prefer male's because I feel that those characters have more freedom in response to all the little whipper snapping females. However, I equally enjoy playing both. I also enjoy new and unexpected things within those characters: inept, not quite pretty, and characters that don't know everything are more interesting than the run-of-the-mill hero/villain/side-kick/stock.
Below will be several characters, with some I may post some piece of writing that introduces them--in addition to the rest of their biographical information. Some of these might not be near as detailed as the other lovely character libraries that I've been browsing (Fate and Shades, lovely, really), but the characters are complex and rounded--which I will endeavor to make clear.
Thus with said disclaimers, notes, and squibbles, enjoy.
Kaislynn- Spectral Light
- Join date : 2009-05-17
Posts : 453
Age : 37
Location : State of Disarray
Re: Kaislynn's Portfolio of Panik
by Kaislynn Sun May 17, 2009 4:24 pm
The Shadow
Role playing information:
World: Earth, scientific--if a little artistic liberty is taken to science--rather than magical (Although I am not particularly opposed to transplanting him)
Race: Vampire (In this particular reality, vampirism manifests as an almost exclusively unknown infection which causes the infected to burn their own blood faster than their own body can produce it. The disease affects the DNA of the individual over time if they survive the original bite. The venom begins to burn the body's blood soon after initial infection, thus a vampire must drain their victim quickly if they bite. And rather than being cold, vampire's run a consistent slight fever, not too noticeable, unless you know to look for it. The changes that occur within the body do not include fangs--though the legend has led to many vampires filing their teeth in an effort to ease blood letter, but more simply use a more convenient cutting tool. However if the blood lust is getting to them, vampires are known to bite for a reason--If vampires do not particularly have fangs, they do develop, over time, increased agility, speed, and strength, and a certain resistance to decay--mimicking immortality. No one has ever really studied vampires, though once every hundred years or so a coven will try to do some research, and consequentially no one knows what the life expectancy really is. Vampires can be killed, if they are deprived of blood for too long or, like normal people, if they receive an injury which causes them to bleed out. They are sensitive to heat sources because the heat causes them to burn blood faster, but are capable of being in sunlight--though they tend to avoid hot places. There are several covens world-wide though no truly united group. The only accepted unifying threads are the need for secrecy and hence keeping things quiet and somewhat "in the family" as it were. But there are as varied kinds of vampires as kinds of people, though it does take something and a half to survive. There are benevolent and less benevolent vampires.)
Age: Unknown (Born before the fall of Rome in the eastern half the empire. I would actually be interested in role playing out some of his life before his current adventure, which you can find at Darker City Streets)
Known Aliases: The Shadow, Edward Laughlin, Demitrio Mancini, Shad
True Name: Perhaps lost to history
Biography Information:
Appearance: The Shadow is 6'1'' and slim of build. His shoulders being not overly broad, nor athletic were gawky in life, now however they have developed the grace and fluidity that the infection creates. His hair is dark, wavy but cut at a medium length. His face, taken is pieces is unremarkable: medium straight nose, evenly set eyes, a medium broad mouth with a slightly full lower lip, and olive skin. But together the effect is obviously eastern Mediterranean, and exotic. When clothed, he wears slacks and dress shirts, with a white undershirt; but he is not afraid to roll the sleeves up and work. In fact, he often does.
Presence, Personality, Psychopathology: Although he is not a physical presence, the Shadow has grown to exert a compelling charisma. It isn't magic, but rather self contained focus. The Shadow was never a loud man, and remains such, though he is a risk taker. Throughout his long life, he has traveled across Europe, learning several languages, studying philosophy, art, medicine, physics, crime, and biology. He has managed to remain alive for a long time. There are vampires that are older than he, but it is not a huge group, perhaps twenty or thirty in the world. He seldom reveals his age nor much about himself--at least not intentionally--but prefers to hide within culture. He is not married to the past however, a result of his wide study of philosophy and religion. He has embraced technology and new things, adapting quickly to understand and appreciate the value of modern society, pop-culture, and the changes of the world. Classics are his favorite however. He loves Shakespeare and the Greeks. Voltaire and Da Vinci. He has appreciated the newness of great works as they have come along, particularly studies of evil like that of the Standford Prison experiments and the Nazi concentration camps. His tendency to reveal less than he knows has helped to keep him alive, but recently he has begun to develop a psychopathology bent on destruction. He has created a gang-like coven of his own in Seattle, Washington (something he never would have done even a hundred years ago. This coven has begun to wreak havoc on the city at his commands. He exacts specific control over the members and orchestrates every crime perpetrated. He does not execute them all but feels responsible for every death. He sees it as part of his purpose; a purpose which will end in his death, a sacrificial kind of thing. The media in Seattle has taken to calling him "The Shadow" which his coven has also adopted behind closed doors. He relies heavily on a vampiress name Cal, whom he turned some time in the 1920's, to help him organize the coven. He remains fiercely independent, however, and prefers to train his killers himself, to give them control, precision, and loyalty. The plan in Seattle has been mostly underground, but his most recent murder was the 14-year-old daughter of a popular movie-star. It is phase two, and he's counting on the press coverage to blow the situation wide-open in the day-light. It could potentially bring other covens into play, if the situation doesn't escalate to his death long before he anticipated.
Likes: Good theatre, art, movies, books, good coffee, computers, intelligent people, beautiful things (curls, depth, life, blood, nebulas, dew on flower petals, emotion, impressionism, cubism, words), innocence, humanity, contrast.
Dislikes: Ice-cream, dry heat, too much of the same thing, ugly simplicity (except in contrast), crude oil, inane speculation, impatience, illogical thinking (unless it's a contrast driven by emotion), lack of meaning--unless it's meaningful lack of meaning, music, or cows (except in contrast).
Excerpt (an introductory excerpt from his adventure in Seattle):
"everyone has within him, from the first moment of his life, the cause of his death."
--Voltaire from a letter to M. Bagieu
l'ombre, la ombra, la sombra, the shadow. He watched the blood, boosted with anticoagulant, run down the clear plastic tube and into a white water cooler. The tube was connected at the top to the upside down jugular of a young man, one-he glanced at the wallet in his hand-Jonathan Vaca. He allowed his lips to twist up at the name. He'd found one of the moo-ing herd. The 'cow' had passed out a few moments before, and the blood flow was slowing.
He picked up a remote control and casually pressed the power button. The low pitched, intense voice of the Taryn Miller carried across the room. Behind her was a photograph of the latest two victims: twin girls killed exactly the same way moments apart, across the city from each other. They had been on the phone with each other, and, in rigor mortise, their cell phones were still clamped to their ears. The first girl, Melanie had been injected with adrenaline intravenously, though it was clear her levels were high to begin with. Her heart rate and blood pressure spiked, just to pre-lethal levels, at which point she was raped. Held down by two hands on her upper arms, leaving massive subcutaneous tissue damage. Her hips were shattered in the process. During the rape her heart rate hit lethal levels and she died. The look on her face had been a horrific frozen scrunch of pain and fear. Her sister, Anne, had died fifteen minutes later, same MO, to the letter. Shot of adrenaline, intravenous. Rape, subcutaneous tissue damage on the upper arms and broken hips. Also dead from the lethal cardiac rhythms. Pinned to Melanie's left breast on a square of silk were written the words "Look, their sweet lips are trembling, look, women, their little mouths" on Anne's right breast "I frightened them with those wild words" and in a different sharp dark hand "Have I frightened you?"
Taryn Miller, with her perfectly bleached hair, nip/tucked nose, and power suit, continued to impress upon her viewers the horror of the deaths. "Medea. Lines spoken about her children, just before she kills them, were pinned to the victim's chests. What we are dealing with, is a serial killer. A sick psychopath who is incredibly strong, incredibly cruel. A brutal mastermind. According to the police, the sisters were killed in their homes, no signs of forced entry, and the only mess appears to be the mess they made trying to defend themselves. The Padma twins are the twenty and twenty-first murders by the Shadow."
der Schatten, he thought, watching the blood slow to a drip in the tube.
Taryn turned to question a guest psychologist who offered some banal thoughts on his--the shadow's--mind, while he stood and walked to the corpse hanging from the ceiling in a straight jacket. With deft long fingers and strength born of more than human condition, he unhooked the rope around the man's ankles from the meat hook above it and lowered him to the ground. He adjusted the straight jacket and moved his focus to the corpse's neck. He removed the draining tube from the left jugular and, taking a needle and thread, sewed the small incision up in neat little cross-stitches with red thread.
"He's a narcissist, Taryn. He wants us to know who he is," the guest pressed her open palm into the table.
"Then why haven't the police found him?" Taryn demanded. She leaned forward, pressing the psychologist back.
"He's very intelligent, Taryn, right now we're playing his game."
He smiled at his work and stood, emptying the tube into the water cooler. He placed the lid on the cooler and slipped it in an industrial meat locker then rinsed the tube in a bare workroom sink.
"Thank you so much for your time, Dr. Greer. Next, decrees from Capitol Hill, will the president raise taxes again? And later, Kosher beef, is it really better for you? Taylor and Marie will be let you know the scoop on the food industries hottest product."
Advertisements flickered across the screen. The smell of blood hung heavy in the air and death stunk, stuck on the concrete floor.
"Roland," the Shadow spoke quietly.
"Yes, sir," A second vampire bowed from the corner of the room with a jerky motion. His pupils were dilated and his pail flesh twitched with suppressed thirst. He had been watching the blood flow without blinking these past several moments.
"Take the book you have. I want 'Titus Andronicus', act five, scene two. Start with Lucius' line 'Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds?' Aaron's monologue if you please."
"Yes, sir," Hands quivering, the vampire took his volume of the complete works of William Shakespeare and searched for the spot. The Shadow waited patiently, Roland was still young and had to learn to control himself to exact specifications. The young vampire's eyes glowed gold in the light, and as he flipped pages he sucked saliva back into his mouth, off his teeth and lips. "I've found it, sir."
"Excellent, you may." As Roland read, the Shadow whetted a blade on a stone and walked to the corpse. He opened the straight jacket and waited, judging the shape and bredth of the man's chest.
"Ay, that I had not done a thousand more. Even now I curse the day, --and yet, I think, Few come within the compass of my curse,--wherein I did not some notorous ill: As kill a man, or else devise his eath; Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it; Accuse some innocent, and forswear myself; Set deadly enmity between two friends; Make poor men's cattle stray and break their necks; Set fire on barns and haystacks and bid the owners quench them with their tears. Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves, And set them upright at their dear friends' doors, Even when their sorrows almost were forgot; And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, Have with my knife carved in Roman letters, Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead."
The Shadow reared back and with a snarl plunged his knife into the corpse's chest and with sawing motions exhumed letters from the dying flesh. 'Let not your sorrow die. Though I am dead, I am here.' The shadow leaned back upon completion in the silent room and let out a small laugh. "Continue,"
"Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things as willingly as one would kill a fly; And nothing grieves me heartily indeed but that I cannot do ten thousand more."
Silence.
The Shadow stood and walked to Roland. He took the book from him. "Go, take some blood from the stores. You've done, well. You are learning."
Roland ghosted out the door and up the stairs. The shadow turned back to the television screen, flashing an add for some kind of natural male enhancement.
"So can I give no reason, nor I will not, More than a lodge'd hate and a certain loathing I bear [you], that I follow thus A losing suit against [you]." The Shadow dropped the book--it slapped the concrete--and stood still, tv lights flashing against the darkened room. His eyes, gold, taking in the body at his feet. He felt his muscles constrict. the shadow, l'ombre, la sombra . . .
With any certainty he knew his existence would end. everyone has within him, from the first moment of his life, the cause of his death. he repeated allowed, "everyone". and sank to his knees. everyone. His dark linen pants crinkled against his knees. His bare shoulders were a pale tan, betraying his Mediterranean ancestry. He lifted a hand to his chest and pressed his fist into the spot above his heart.
"But some also carry the cause of the death of others." The twenty-second corpse was beginning to cool. Its wounds darkening. Time to have Dominique take the dead cow to Melanie Padma--no. twenty's doorstep. Then a young girl, perhaps fourteen: that would be tomorrow's adventure. To find her. Find the next death that he carried.
Role playing information:
World: Earth, scientific--if a little artistic liberty is taken to science--rather than magical (Although I am not particularly opposed to transplanting him)
Race: Vampire (In this particular reality, vampirism manifests as an almost exclusively unknown infection which causes the infected to burn their own blood faster than their own body can produce it. The disease affects the DNA of the individual over time if they survive the original bite. The venom begins to burn the body's blood soon after initial infection, thus a vampire must drain their victim quickly if they bite. And rather than being cold, vampire's run a consistent slight fever, not too noticeable, unless you know to look for it. The changes that occur within the body do not include fangs--though the legend has led to many vampires filing their teeth in an effort to ease blood letter, but more simply use a more convenient cutting tool. However if the blood lust is getting to them, vampires are known to bite for a reason--If vampires do not particularly have fangs, they do develop, over time, increased agility, speed, and strength, and a certain resistance to decay--mimicking immortality. No one has ever really studied vampires, though once every hundred years or so a coven will try to do some research, and consequentially no one knows what the life expectancy really is. Vampires can be killed, if they are deprived of blood for too long or, like normal people, if they receive an injury which causes them to bleed out. They are sensitive to heat sources because the heat causes them to burn blood faster, but are capable of being in sunlight--though they tend to avoid hot places. There are several covens world-wide though no truly united group. The only accepted unifying threads are the need for secrecy and hence keeping things quiet and somewhat "in the family" as it were. But there are as varied kinds of vampires as kinds of people, though it does take something and a half to survive. There are benevolent and less benevolent vampires.)
Age: Unknown (Born before the fall of Rome in the eastern half the empire. I would actually be interested in role playing out some of his life before his current adventure, which you can find at Darker City Streets)
Known Aliases: The Shadow, Edward Laughlin, Demitrio Mancini, Shad
True Name: Perhaps lost to history
Biography Information:
Appearance: The Shadow is 6'1'' and slim of build. His shoulders being not overly broad, nor athletic were gawky in life, now however they have developed the grace and fluidity that the infection creates. His hair is dark, wavy but cut at a medium length. His face, taken is pieces is unremarkable: medium straight nose, evenly set eyes, a medium broad mouth with a slightly full lower lip, and olive skin. But together the effect is obviously eastern Mediterranean, and exotic. When clothed, he wears slacks and dress shirts, with a white undershirt; but he is not afraid to roll the sleeves up and work. In fact, he often does.
Presence, Personality, Psychopathology: Although he is not a physical presence, the Shadow has grown to exert a compelling charisma. It isn't magic, but rather self contained focus. The Shadow was never a loud man, and remains such, though he is a risk taker. Throughout his long life, he has traveled across Europe, learning several languages, studying philosophy, art, medicine, physics, crime, and biology. He has managed to remain alive for a long time. There are vampires that are older than he, but it is not a huge group, perhaps twenty or thirty in the world. He seldom reveals his age nor much about himself--at least not intentionally--but prefers to hide within culture. He is not married to the past however, a result of his wide study of philosophy and religion. He has embraced technology and new things, adapting quickly to understand and appreciate the value of modern society, pop-culture, and the changes of the world. Classics are his favorite however. He loves Shakespeare and the Greeks. Voltaire and Da Vinci. He has appreciated the newness of great works as they have come along, particularly studies of evil like that of the Standford Prison experiments and the Nazi concentration camps. His tendency to reveal less than he knows has helped to keep him alive, but recently he has begun to develop a psychopathology bent on destruction. He has created a gang-like coven of his own in Seattle, Washington (something he never would have done even a hundred years ago. This coven has begun to wreak havoc on the city at his commands. He exacts specific control over the members and orchestrates every crime perpetrated. He does not execute them all but feels responsible for every death. He sees it as part of his purpose; a purpose which will end in his death, a sacrificial kind of thing. The media in Seattle has taken to calling him "The Shadow" which his coven has also adopted behind closed doors. He relies heavily on a vampiress name Cal, whom he turned some time in the 1920's, to help him organize the coven. He remains fiercely independent, however, and prefers to train his killers himself, to give them control, precision, and loyalty. The plan in Seattle has been mostly underground, but his most recent murder was the 14-year-old daughter of a popular movie-star. It is phase two, and he's counting on the press coverage to blow the situation wide-open in the day-light. It could potentially bring other covens into play, if the situation doesn't escalate to his death long before he anticipated.
Likes: Good theatre, art, movies, books, good coffee, computers, intelligent people, beautiful things (curls, depth, life, blood, nebulas, dew on flower petals, emotion, impressionism, cubism, words), innocence, humanity, contrast.
Dislikes: Ice-cream, dry heat, too much of the same thing, ugly simplicity (except in contrast), crude oil, inane speculation, impatience, illogical thinking (unless it's a contrast driven by emotion), lack of meaning--unless it's meaningful lack of meaning, music, or cows (except in contrast).
Excerpt (an introductory excerpt from his adventure in Seattle):
"everyone has within him, from the first moment of his life, the cause of his death."
--Voltaire from a letter to M. Bagieu
l'ombre, la ombra, la sombra, the shadow. He watched the blood, boosted with anticoagulant, run down the clear plastic tube and into a white water cooler. The tube was connected at the top to the upside down jugular of a young man, one-he glanced at the wallet in his hand-Jonathan Vaca. He allowed his lips to twist up at the name. He'd found one of the moo-ing herd. The 'cow' had passed out a few moments before, and the blood flow was slowing.
He picked up a remote control and casually pressed the power button. The low pitched, intense voice of the Taryn Miller carried across the room. Behind her was a photograph of the latest two victims: twin girls killed exactly the same way moments apart, across the city from each other. They had been on the phone with each other, and, in rigor mortise, their cell phones were still clamped to their ears. The first girl, Melanie had been injected with adrenaline intravenously, though it was clear her levels were high to begin with. Her heart rate and blood pressure spiked, just to pre-lethal levels, at which point she was raped. Held down by two hands on her upper arms, leaving massive subcutaneous tissue damage. Her hips were shattered in the process. During the rape her heart rate hit lethal levels and she died. The look on her face had been a horrific frozen scrunch of pain and fear. Her sister, Anne, had died fifteen minutes later, same MO, to the letter. Shot of adrenaline, intravenous. Rape, subcutaneous tissue damage on the upper arms and broken hips. Also dead from the lethal cardiac rhythms. Pinned to Melanie's left breast on a square of silk were written the words "Look, their sweet lips are trembling, look, women, their little mouths" on Anne's right breast "I frightened them with those wild words" and in a different sharp dark hand "Have I frightened you?"
Taryn Miller, with her perfectly bleached hair, nip/tucked nose, and power suit, continued to impress upon her viewers the horror of the deaths. "Medea. Lines spoken about her children, just before she kills them, were pinned to the victim's chests. What we are dealing with, is a serial killer. A sick psychopath who is incredibly strong, incredibly cruel. A brutal mastermind. According to the police, the sisters were killed in their homes, no signs of forced entry, and the only mess appears to be the mess they made trying to defend themselves. The Padma twins are the twenty and twenty-first murders by the Shadow."
der Schatten, he thought, watching the blood slow to a drip in the tube.
Taryn turned to question a guest psychologist who offered some banal thoughts on his--the shadow's--mind, while he stood and walked to the corpse hanging from the ceiling in a straight jacket. With deft long fingers and strength born of more than human condition, he unhooked the rope around the man's ankles from the meat hook above it and lowered him to the ground. He adjusted the straight jacket and moved his focus to the corpse's neck. He removed the draining tube from the left jugular and, taking a needle and thread, sewed the small incision up in neat little cross-stitches with red thread.
"He's a narcissist, Taryn. He wants us to know who he is," the guest pressed her open palm into the table.
"Then why haven't the police found him?" Taryn demanded. She leaned forward, pressing the psychologist back.
"He's very intelligent, Taryn, right now we're playing his game."
He smiled at his work and stood, emptying the tube into the water cooler. He placed the lid on the cooler and slipped it in an industrial meat locker then rinsed the tube in a bare workroom sink.
"Thank you so much for your time, Dr. Greer. Next, decrees from Capitol Hill, will the president raise taxes again? And later, Kosher beef, is it really better for you? Taylor and Marie will be let you know the scoop on the food industries hottest product."
Advertisements flickered across the screen. The smell of blood hung heavy in the air and death stunk, stuck on the concrete floor.
"Roland," the Shadow spoke quietly.
"Yes, sir," A second vampire bowed from the corner of the room with a jerky motion. His pupils were dilated and his pail flesh twitched with suppressed thirst. He had been watching the blood flow without blinking these past several moments.
"Take the book you have. I want 'Titus Andronicus', act five, scene two. Start with Lucius' line 'Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds?' Aaron's monologue if you please."
"Yes, sir," Hands quivering, the vampire took his volume of the complete works of William Shakespeare and searched for the spot. The Shadow waited patiently, Roland was still young and had to learn to control himself to exact specifications. The young vampire's eyes glowed gold in the light, and as he flipped pages he sucked saliva back into his mouth, off his teeth and lips. "I've found it, sir."
"Excellent, you may." As Roland read, the Shadow whetted a blade on a stone and walked to the corpse. He opened the straight jacket and waited, judging the shape and bredth of the man's chest.
"Ay, that I had not done a thousand more. Even now I curse the day, --and yet, I think, Few come within the compass of my curse,--wherein I did not some notorous ill: As kill a man, or else devise his eath; Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it; Accuse some innocent, and forswear myself; Set deadly enmity between two friends; Make poor men's cattle stray and break their necks; Set fire on barns and haystacks and bid the owners quench them with their tears. Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves, And set them upright at their dear friends' doors, Even when their sorrows almost were forgot; And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, Have with my knife carved in Roman letters, Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead."
The Shadow reared back and with a snarl plunged his knife into the corpse's chest and with sawing motions exhumed letters from the dying flesh. 'Let not your sorrow die. Though I am dead, I am here.' The shadow leaned back upon completion in the silent room and let out a small laugh. "Continue,"
"Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things as willingly as one would kill a fly; And nothing grieves me heartily indeed but that I cannot do ten thousand more."
Silence.
The Shadow stood and walked to Roland. He took the book from him. "Go, take some blood from the stores. You've done, well. You are learning."
Roland ghosted out the door and up the stairs. The shadow turned back to the television screen, flashing an add for some kind of natural male enhancement.
"So can I give no reason, nor I will not, More than a lodge'd hate and a certain loathing I bear [you], that I follow thus A losing suit against [you]." The Shadow dropped the book--it slapped the concrete--and stood still, tv lights flashing against the darkened room. His eyes, gold, taking in the body at his feet. He felt his muscles constrict. the shadow, l'ombre, la sombra . . .
With any certainty he knew his existence would end. everyone has within him, from the first moment of his life, the cause of his death. he repeated allowed, "everyone". and sank to his knees. everyone. His dark linen pants crinkled against his knees. His bare shoulders were a pale tan, betraying his Mediterranean ancestry. He lifted a hand to his chest and pressed his fist into the spot above his heart.
"But some also carry the cause of the death of others." The twenty-second corpse was beginning to cool. Its wounds darkening. Time to have Dominique take the dead cow to Melanie Padma--no. twenty's doorstep. Then a young girl, perhaps fourteen: that would be tomorrow's adventure. To find her. Find the next death that he carried.
Kaislynn- Spectral Light
- Join date : 2009-05-17
Posts : 453
Age : 37
Location : State of Disarray
Re: Kaislynn's Portfolio of Panik
by Kaislynn Sun May 17, 2009 7:48 pm
Nikolaus Donnan, Duke of Raeburn
Role playing information:
Note: This is a young character, his idea has only just begun to form but I'd like to get him some action. He'll be updated as things continue.
World: Fantasy (Kingdoms, specifically with different races, human, dwarf, elf, etc and magic. It's a world in which diplomacy is struggling to work. Unfortunately several elven kingdoms have coalesced under one king who wants to obliterate humanity--though annexing human nations is fine for him right now)
Race: Elf
Rank: Cousin to Davian Hail (Prince and Nephew to Cadtheron Hail, King and high seat of the Elves (King Cadtheron is the main push behind the Elvin invasion. If he can convince the rest of the Elvin seats--the Elvin court--, he would eventually like to genocide the humans out of existence. For now Cadtheron is happy to conquer.)
Age: 60
Biographical Information:
Appearance: Mid twenties, Raeburn is a decent six foot two, with rather broad shoulders (as a youngling, Davian would tease him for looking like he had human or dwarf blood). Raeburn's eyes are brown, his hair a darker brown. One eyes has a slice through the cornea which causes the pupil to look funny, he can see, but tends to squint with the eye (his left) in sunlight. There is a tattoo on his left foot, a snake winding around his ankle and foot, grasping a dagger in its jaws, which signifies the army unit he trained with as a young elf.
Bio: Raeburn has agreed to act as political liaison to the other nations on behalf of the king. It puts him, in an awkward position, but he would rather do it than be a useless general at home or a soldier fighting for his people and his uncle. As a youngling, Raeburn took classes with his cousin Davian and other royal cousins. He fell in love with one of the warrior maidens that guarded Davian. It was discovered by his father, who informed his uncle, who had the maiden transferred. She was killed in battle; Raeburn blames Cadtheron. Although Raeburn does not respect his uncle, the King, he loves his people and his home kingdom. He is devoted to his Dukedom and to his cousin, Davian. He has a sister, Maridian Donnan, and a wife that was married for political purposes: Cadell. He has a son, who is sixteen (young for an elf), Davi--short for Davian, named for his uncle.
Role playing information:
Note: This is a young character, his idea has only just begun to form but I'd like to get him some action. He'll be updated as things continue.
World: Fantasy (Kingdoms, specifically with different races, human, dwarf, elf, etc and magic. It's a world in which diplomacy is struggling to work. Unfortunately several elven kingdoms have coalesced under one king who wants to obliterate humanity--though annexing human nations is fine for him right now)
Race: Elf
Rank: Cousin to Davian Hail (Prince and Nephew to Cadtheron Hail, King and high seat of the Elves (King Cadtheron is the main push behind the Elvin invasion. If he can convince the rest of the Elvin seats--the Elvin court--, he would eventually like to genocide the humans out of existence. For now Cadtheron is happy to conquer.)
Age: 60
Biographical Information:
Appearance: Mid twenties, Raeburn is a decent six foot two, with rather broad shoulders (as a youngling, Davian would tease him for looking like he had human or dwarf blood). Raeburn's eyes are brown, his hair a darker brown. One eyes has a slice through the cornea which causes the pupil to look funny, he can see, but tends to squint with the eye (his left) in sunlight. There is a tattoo on his left foot, a snake winding around his ankle and foot, grasping a dagger in its jaws, which signifies the army unit he trained with as a young elf.
Bio: Raeburn has agreed to act as political liaison to the other nations on behalf of the king. It puts him, in an awkward position, but he would rather do it than be a useless general at home or a soldier fighting for his people and his uncle. As a youngling, Raeburn took classes with his cousin Davian and other royal cousins. He fell in love with one of the warrior maidens that guarded Davian. It was discovered by his father, who informed his uncle, who had the maiden transferred. She was killed in battle; Raeburn blames Cadtheron. Although Raeburn does not respect his uncle, the King, he loves his people and his home kingdom. He is devoted to his Dukedom and to his cousin, Davian. He has a sister, Maridian Donnan, and a wife that was married for political purposes: Cadell. He has a son, who is sixteen (young for an elf), Davi--short for Davian, named for his uncle.
Kaislynn- Spectral Light
- Join date : 2009-05-17
Posts : 453
Age : 37
Location : State of Disarray
Re: Kaislynn's Portfolio of Panik
by Kaislynn Sun May 17, 2009 8:07 pm
Mark Brutus Julian
Role playing information:
Note: Mark is my more tradition vampire: No sunlight, undead, immortal, fire is lethal, extra strong/fast/agile, no beating heart, etc.
World: Currently Modern Earth with magical shadings and properties.
Age: 412 years and four months; manifests as 24.
Biographical Information:
Appearance: Mark is 6'1'' with dark mussy hair. Grey eyes and a chiseled face. Toned, He generally wears jeans and a button down dress shirt in dark colors. His secretary jokingly calls him the "tall dark and handsome one" but he really isn't quite good looking, instead just decent. Though his sophisticated attire and intensity lend him an extra boost.
Personality: Mark is a quiet, jaded individual. He doesn't like intimacy, having seen loved ones die from the simple passing of the years and having seen grotesque manipulations--he'd probably understand and sympathize with Holden Caulfield (The Catcher in the Rye) quite well. He doesn't believe in much: Karma, reincarnation, and that he is not living the natural order of things. However, it's been a long hard pull to distance himself from the church's beliefs that he grew up around in Britain; thus he occasionally has to deal with the aspects of damnation, God, and where he fits in to Holiness. He believes that debt is the real currency of the world and that being kind can be one of the greater moves of power, as it can make people indebted to you. He is suspicious of authority, though makes liberal use of it himself; translation is that he likes to be in control, one might go so far as to say he needs it. Mark looks people in the eye and has a firm, grounded demeanor most of the time. Sometimes, especially when he's under pressure or hasn't satiated his blood lust for too long, he loses control and acts way out of turn say and doing things he later regrets and is sure Karma will get him for.
Equipment: Mark generally doesn't carry much besides his wallet, iphone, cigarettes and a lighter (he's got a pack a day habit, which luckily doesn't do much to his undead body, and he's wealthy enough that it's not a money problem, plus he finds it relaxing. He's been doing it for a long, long time.) Occasionally, he carries a book a book around. He prefers the new gritty style of writing, without false flashy romantic notions.
History: Mark was born in the eighteen century in Britain. He worked in a theatre, and even performed a little during the period. But as touted by the plays of the time, unsavory characters frequented the theatre. One such unsavory type is responsible for Mark's present state--a female vampire who turned him and several other young men, creating a harem of sorts. Mark was devoted to her and was manipulated with all the other little men she caught until one of the others (Ned) killed her. Ned convinced Mark to help him burn the body. Feeling complicit in her death, Mark then fled England for France for several years. Finally he fled France for the colonies: America. It was a horrible passage and an even more horrible place. At first, Mark hated America, but it slowly grew on him (all times I am willing to role play out ) and when the 21st century rolled around, he started an internet company at the very beginnings of the internet age, capitalizing on the odd hours kept by hackers: most of his employees work nights. He very much likes to keep his life to himself and thus is invested in the quietness and equilibrium.
Currently: Mark is entangled with another vampiress called Cypress. She is a little French wench who helped him out of a bad situation--he'd waited far to long to feed and lost control on an astronomical level. She helped him feed and let him shelter in her apartment for the day. Most of the time has been torture for him, but he has gradually found that, despite her incessant game playing and desire, he enjoys her company. He's very torn, since he would like nothing less that to not have another immortal acquaintance. He's done very well trying to distance himself from all others of his kind.
Role playing information:
Note: Mark is my more tradition vampire: No sunlight, undead, immortal, fire is lethal, extra strong/fast/agile, no beating heart, etc.
World: Currently Modern Earth with magical shadings and properties.
Age: 412 years and four months; manifests as 24.
Biographical Information:
Appearance: Mark is 6'1'' with dark mussy hair. Grey eyes and a chiseled face. Toned, He generally wears jeans and a button down dress shirt in dark colors. His secretary jokingly calls him the "tall dark and handsome one" but he really isn't quite good looking, instead just decent. Though his sophisticated attire and intensity lend him an extra boost.
Personality: Mark is a quiet, jaded individual. He doesn't like intimacy, having seen loved ones die from the simple passing of the years and having seen grotesque manipulations--he'd probably understand and sympathize with Holden Caulfield (The Catcher in the Rye) quite well. He doesn't believe in much: Karma, reincarnation, and that he is not living the natural order of things. However, it's been a long hard pull to distance himself from the church's beliefs that he grew up around in Britain; thus he occasionally has to deal with the aspects of damnation, God, and where he fits in to Holiness. He believes that debt is the real currency of the world and that being kind can be one of the greater moves of power, as it can make people indebted to you. He is suspicious of authority, though makes liberal use of it himself; translation is that he likes to be in control, one might go so far as to say he needs it. Mark looks people in the eye and has a firm, grounded demeanor most of the time. Sometimes, especially when he's under pressure or hasn't satiated his blood lust for too long, he loses control and acts way out of turn say and doing things he later regrets and is sure Karma will get him for.
Equipment: Mark generally doesn't carry much besides his wallet, iphone, cigarettes and a lighter (he's got a pack a day habit, which luckily doesn't do much to his undead body, and he's wealthy enough that it's not a money problem, plus he finds it relaxing. He's been doing it for a long, long time.) Occasionally, he carries a book a book around. He prefers the new gritty style of writing, without false flashy romantic notions.
History: Mark was born in the eighteen century in Britain. He worked in a theatre, and even performed a little during the period. But as touted by the plays of the time, unsavory characters frequented the theatre. One such unsavory type is responsible for Mark's present state--a female vampire who turned him and several other young men, creating a harem of sorts. Mark was devoted to her and was manipulated with all the other little men she caught until one of the others (Ned) killed her. Ned convinced Mark to help him burn the body. Feeling complicit in her death, Mark then fled England for France for several years. Finally he fled France for the colonies: America. It was a horrible passage and an even more horrible place. At first, Mark hated America, but it slowly grew on him (all times I am willing to role play out
) and when the 21st century rolled around, he started an internet company at the very beginnings of the internet age, capitalizing on the odd hours kept by hackers: most of his employees work nights. He very much likes to keep his life to himself and thus is invested in the quietness and equilibrium.Currently: Mark is entangled with another vampiress called Cypress. She is a little French wench who helped him out of a bad situation--he'd waited far to long to feed and lost control on an astronomical level. She helped him feed and let him shelter in her apartment for the day. Most of the time has been torture for him, but he has gradually found that, despite her incessant game playing and desire, he enjoys her company. He's very torn, since he would like nothing less that to not have another immortal acquaintance. He's done very well trying to distance himself from all others of his kind.
Kaislynn- Spectral Light
- Join date : 2009-05-17
Posts : 453
Age : 37
Location : State of Disarray
Re: Kaislynn's Portfolio of Panik
by Kaislynn Sun May 17, 2009 8:28 pm
Richter (Ricky) Malon
Role playing information:
World: Any World (though he is a sorcerer and thus probably would not be appropriate without magic)
Race: Human
Age: 26
Rank: Middling Sorcerer
Biographical Information:
Appearance: A 5'11'', 174lb, well toned but nowhere near muscley regular joe. Rick's got brown, curly, shortish hair and brown eyes. Contacts keep the specs out. He likes to wear lumberjack shirts and jeans, the flannel is nice and reminds him of home. Plus, it's durable and pretty decent looking, he thinks. Underneath he usually has a tee shirt of some kind. Hiking boots are the most practical thing. Ricky figures, with everything all in flux everywhere around him, some stability in clothing is pretty nice.
Personality: Ricky is quiet and tends to be a little bit of a loner. Not out of any real desire to be by himself but because of a terrible kind of stage fright. He's embarrassed of himself a little, and feels pressured by other people's presence; pressured to be real--> "And how do you be real??" However, when called upon, he is usually up to doing most things so long as no one is watching. He severely doesn't want to die and is not a big risk taker. Unfortunately with his chosen career-sorcery-he kind of has to take some risks. In high school, he was the bottom of the totem pole in his group of friends and has never forgotten that. He tries to help people as best he can, though he usually isn't the best at it. He isn't usually vindictive or judgmental, and even when he is he feels awful (unless it's someone who cut him off) and forgives easily (this is often bad for his self-image).
Likes/Dislikes: He likes Van Gogh, and Muse. Prefers smarties to m&m's and likes biathalons (something of a hangover from childhood, plus the guns are badass). He does like folk rock, coca cola, greasy Mexican food, and turtles. He doesn't like coffee ice-cream or toffee ice-cream or anything that rhymes with toffee and coffee. He can't operate a computer for crap, but he's an excellent shade-tree mechanic (if not really any kind of genius at it, he can definitely change a tire).
Equipment: Ricky's usually got a notebook of some kind on him and a long thin dowel. It's not a wand . . . or so he says. Just a prop to help him get the job done. He also usually has several writing utensils: pens, markers, pastels, paintbrushes, pencils and chapstick: which all ends up in his navy Jansport backpack. Occasionally his wallet finds its way into his pocket too.
History: Ricky is the creative sort. Unfortunately for him, none of the arts stuck particularly well. His stage fright led him to abandon poor Ophelia in rehearsal, his lack of motor skill erased him straight out of drawing, he couldn't hold a tune or read music, computers made him edgy, sculpting was full of merely passable sand castles, and poetry was only something he could recite, not create. Thus college failed him. So he turned to sorcery, and was surprisingly fairly decent at it. Ricky is an excitable, often mildly unreasonable experimenter (while frantically trying to avoid risks in those experiments). Though by no means a nutty professor type, he doesn't tend to make a lot of friends. Friends require socializing and intimacy: and stage fright continues to plague him. He does have a kind heart though, and tries to help when he can: "Give back to your community" his parents always told him. So he tries to be the best he can be. As a child, Ricky grew up in southern California before moving to Massachusetts. His parents don't understand what went wrong with him, but they love him and send him care packages occasionally (They are a doctor and a lawyer respectively and quite social if not particularly wealthy. They are upper middle class, baby boomers: Go Mom and Dad.) Ricky has no siblings, possibly part of his shy-radar, but grew up with a black lab/keish hound mix named Spooky, occasionally shortened to Spoo or Poo depending on what he'd done lately. When Ricky moved out he took Spoo with him. Some of his customers like to call the dog his familiar, but try as he might Ricky has never gotten Spoo to speak a word. To make a living--it's a cheap one--Ricky words selling charms and spells, mostly protection and anti-bacterial, but he likes creating new helpful things like a spell to get the cat down from the tree (if he could get the cats claws to keep from afixing to his face) or the one to make air conditioners and cars stop rattling (except for the fact that the rattle then transferred to his body) or even the nifty pair of dance shoes he'd enchanted to help the wearer perform a first dance at his wedding (we won't even go there). Regardless, he tries to help and tries to create, sometimes doing real well . . .and sometimes, well you get the picture.
Role playing information:
World: Any World (though he is a sorcerer and thus probably would not be appropriate without magic)
Race: Human
Age: 26
Rank: Middling Sorcerer
Biographical Information:
Appearance: A 5'11'', 174lb, well toned but nowhere near muscley regular joe. Rick's got brown, curly, shortish hair and brown eyes. Contacts keep the specs out. He likes to wear lumberjack shirts and jeans, the flannel is nice and reminds him of home. Plus, it's durable and pretty decent looking, he thinks. Underneath he usually has a tee shirt of some kind. Hiking boots are the most practical thing. Ricky figures, with everything all in flux everywhere around him, some stability in clothing is pretty nice.
Personality: Ricky is quiet and tends to be a little bit of a loner. Not out of any real desire to be by himself but because of a terrible kind of stage fright. He's embarrassed of himself a little, and feels pressured by other people's presence; pressured to be real--> "And how do you be real??" However, when called upon, he is usually up to doing most things so long as no one is watching. He severely doesn't want to die and is not a big risk taker. Unfortunately with his chosen career-sorcery-he kind of has to take some risks. In high school, he was the bottom of the totem pole in his group of friends and has never forgotten that. He tries to help people as best he can, though he usually isn't the best at it. He isn't usually vindictive or judgmental, and even when he is he feels awful (unless it's someone who cut him off) and forgives easily (this is often bad for his self-image).
Likes/Dislikes: He likes Van Gogh, and Muse. Prefers smarties to m&m's and likes biathalons (something of a hangover from childhood, plus the guns are badass). He does like folk rock, coca cola, greasy Mexican food, and turtles. He doesn't like coffee ice-cream or toffee ice-cream or anything that rhymes with toffee and coffee. He can't operate a computer for crap, but he's an excellent shade-tree mechanic (if not really any kind of genius at it, he can definitely change a tire).
Equipment: Ricky's usually got a notebook of some kind on him and a long thin dowel. It's not a wand . . . or so he says. Just a prop to help him get the job done. He also usually has several writing utensils: pens, markers, pastels, paintbrushes, pencils and chapstick: which all ends up in his navy Jansport backpack. Occasionally his wallet finds its way into his pocket too.
History: Ricky is the creative sort. Unfortunately for him, none of the arts stuck particularly well. His stage fright led him to abandon poor Ophelia in rehearsal, his lack of motor skill erased him straight out of drawing, he couldn't hold a tune or read music, computers made him edgy, sculpting was full of merely passable sand castles, and poetry was only something he could recite, not create. Thus college failed him. So he turned to sorcery, and was surprisingly fairly decent at it. Ricky is an excitable, often mildly unreasonable experimenter (while frantically trying to avoid risks in those experiments). Though by no means a nutty professor type, he doesn't tend to make a lot of friends. Friends require socializing and intimacy: and stage fright continues to plague him. He does have a kind heart though, and tries to help when he can: "Give back to your community" his parents always told him. So he tries to be the best he can be. As a child, Ricky grew up in southern California before moving to Massachusetts. His parents don't understand what went wrong with him, but they love him and send him care packages occasionally (They are a doctor and a lawyer respectively and quite social if not particularly wealthy. They are upper middle class, baby boomers: Go Mom and Dad.) Ricky has no siblings, possibly part of his shy-radar, but grew up with a black lab/keish hound mix named Spooky, occasionally shortened to Spoo or Poo depending on what he'd done lately. When Ricky moved out he took Spoo with him. Some of his customers like to call the dog his familiar, but try as he might Ricky has never gotten Spoo to speak a word. To make a living--it's a cheap one--Ricky words selling charms and spells, mostly protection and anti-bacterial, but he likes creating new helpful things like a spell to get the cat down from the tree (if he could get the cats claws to keep from afixing to his face) or the one to make air conditioners and cars stop rattling (except for the fact that the rattle then transferred to his body) or even the nifty pair of dance shoes he'd enchanted to help the wearer perform a first dance at his wedding (we won't even go there). Regardless, he tries to help and tries to create, sometimes doing real well . . .and sometimes, well you get the picture.
Kaislynn- Spectral Light
- Join date : 2009-05-17
Posts : 453
Age : 37
Location : State of Disarray
Re: Kaislynn's Portfolio of Panik
by Kaislynn Tue May 26, 2009 3:12 am
Name: Aspen Bolles
Age: 24
Race: Soon-to-be-lycan
Appearance: Aspen is a diminutive 5 foot 3 inches. But she loves the height, it allows her to see the world differently. Her hair is pixie short, though her ex-boyfriend of five years always called it a soccer-mom hair-cut. It's a sleek dark brown/reddish color right now. Her eyes are brown and her skin is fairly pale, and slightly freckled a gift from the sun. She tends to wear dark browns and fall reds or pale linens in fall colors. She always carries a bag that her cousin bought her in France. And almost always carries a camera.
Personality: Aspen is generally a sweet tempered little firefly, she loves to discover and loves to see the world new every time she looks at it. Nature photography is her favorite, one of her professors told her she had talent. She'd love to be like the Ansel Adams of the East Coast. Nothing has every really gone wrong in her life and so she doesn't know the limits of herself. But she knows that somethings are wrong: like injustice and stealing, cheating lying, things that hurt people. Though she's not above a white lie, nor the greater good, when it's appropriate.
Short Bio: (more to come later) Aspen grew up in Toronto but moved to the states when she was 13. She moved in with her grandfather because her parents had divorced and mom took her back to the states. She started playing with her grandfather's cameras and never went back. They were her favorite thing. She took journalism and photography in college and works from an apartment near Cambridge, Mass. This weekend, she's going photo-camping.
Age: 24
Race: Soon-to-be-lycan
Appearance: Aspen is a diminutive 5 foot 3 inches. But she loves the height, it allows her to see the world differently. Her hair is pixie short, though her ex-boyfriend of five years always called it a soccer-mom hair-cut. It's a sleek dark brown/reddish color right now. Her eyes are brown and her skin is fairly pale, and slightly freckled a gift from the sun. She tends to wear dark browns and fall reds or pale linens in fall colors. She always carries a bag that her cousin bought her in France. And almost always carries a camera.
Personality: Aspen is generally a sweet tempered little firefly, she loves to discover and loves to see the world new every time she looks at it. Nature photography is her favorite, one of her professors told her she had talent. She'd love to be like the Ansel Adams of the East Coast. Nothing has every really gone wrong in her life and so she doesn't know the limits of herself. But she knows that somethings are wrong: like injustice and stealing, cheating lying, things that hurt people. Though she's not above a white lie, nor the greater good, when it's appropriate.
Short Bio: (more to come later) Aspen grew up in Toronto but moved to the states when she was 13. She moved in with her grandfather because her parents had divorced and mom took her back to the states. She started playing with her grandfather's cameras and never went back. They were her favorite thing. She took journalism and photography in college and works from an apartment near Cambridge, Mass. This weekend, she's going photo-camping.
Kaislynn- Spectral Light
- Join date : 2009-05-17
Posts : 453
Age : 37
Location : State of Disarray
Re: Kaislynn's Portfolio of Panik
by Kaislynn Sun Jun 07, 2009 1:15 am
Corin Greer
Age: 20
Picture:
Height: 5'6''
Weight: 150 lb
Hair: Dirty blonde, long, straight
Eyes: Brown
Edit: The Bike
All except the paint job which is currently two dirty coats of gray, no gloss
Child: Mina, three years old. a Blonde little girl, usually Corin keeps her dressed in overalls and has a jacket on hand. (the picture is of her at 6 years old)
Short Bio--The relevant info: Mina's dad, Charlie Clark was a biker in a gang out of San Bernardino, California. As part of the crew he was sent to take out a neighborhood. Collateral damage killed Corin's trailer in the trailer park next to the apartment complex that came down. The fire took out several of the trailers as well as decimate the building. Corin had been living on her own for two years already and at sixteen was no stranger to the streets she lived on. Charlie had been ordered to make sure everything burned properly.
When Corin got home from work at the Del Taco down the street and saw her trailer in flames, she immediately located the problem and took the problem back to him. He was twenty-three and handled his bike decently. Finally she bossed him around to agree to pay her back for the loss of her home. He took her back with him and eventually she joined the gang as a gang whore (not necessarily a promiscuous title, but a woman in the gang).
Over the next year, Charlie earned patch and she became his old lady. When Mina was conceived, things had been rocky for some time. He didn't like her bossing him around and she was trying to take care of herself. Finally when she told him about the pregnancy the fighting boiled to a head and the yelling turned into pushing. Both scored some good hits. The fight was broken up by a higher ranking Patch and their relationship continued.
The fighting continued off and on for the next two years occasionally becoming quite violent. Corin managed to keep Mina mostly out of it--though kids rather manage to hear everything you don't want them too. Sometimes Corin drank herself into a rage and beat up on Charlie and the next night Charlie would return the favor. Finally, one evening in a sober fight, Charlie threatened Mina. Corin picked up his gun and shot him, nicking his kidney. He was shocked but continued yelling at her and that she had killed him as loud as he could until Corin shot him a second time in the head. She proceeded to take the two year old Mina, two backpacks of clothes, all the money and amo, and get gone on Charlie's bike.
Corin and Mina have been on the run for a year now. They've made it out to Michigan; their next move will be across the boarder into Canada.
Age: 20
Picture:
Height: 5'6''
Weight: 150 lb
Hair: Dirty blonde, long, straight
Eyes: Brown
Edit: The Bike
All except the paint job which is currently two dirty coats of gray, no glossChild: Mina, three years old. a Blonde little girl, usually Corin keeps her dressed in overalls and has a jacket on hand. (the picture is of her at 6 years old)
Short Bio--The relevant info: Mina's dad, Charlie Clark was a biker in a gang out of San Bernardino, California. As part of the crew he was sent to take out a neighborhood. Collateral damage killed Corin's trailer in the trailer park next to the apartment complex that came down. The fire took out several of the trailers as well as decimate the building. Corin had been living on her own for two years already and at sixteen was no stranger to the streets she lived on. Charlie had been ordered to make sure everything burned properly.
When Corin got home from work at the Del Taco down the street and saw her trailer in flames, she immediately located the problem and took the problem back to him. He was twenty-three and handled his bike decently. Finally she bossed him around to agree to pay her back for the loss of her home. He took her back with him and eventually she joined the gang as a gang whore (not necessarily a promiscuous title, but a woman in the gang).
Over the next year, Charlie earned patch and she became his old lady. When Mina was conceived, things had been rocky for some time. He didn't like her bossing him around and she was trying to take care of herself. Finally when she told him about the pregnancy the fighting boiled to a head and the yelling turned into pushing. Both scored some good hits. The fight was broken up by a higher ranking Patch and their relationship continued.
The fighting continued off and on for the next two years occasionally becoming quite violent. Corin managed to keep Mina mostly out of it--though kids rather manage to hear everything you don't want them too. Sometimes Corin drank herself into a rage and beat up on Charlie and the next night Charlie would return the favor. Finally, one evening in a sober fight, Charlie threatened Mina. Corin picked up his gun and shot him, nicking his kidney. He was shocked but continued yelling at her and that she had killed him as loud as he could until Corin shot him a second time in the head. She proceeded to take the two year old Mina, two backpacks of clothes, all the money and amo, and get gone on Charlie's bike.
Corin and Mina have been on the run for a year now. They've made it out to Michigan; their next move will be across the boarder into Canada.
Last edited by Kaislynn on Mon Nov 16, 2009 7:17 pm; edited 1 time in total
Kaislynn- Spectral Light
- Join date : 2009-05-17
Posts : 453
Age : 37
Location : State of Disarray
Vasha Cirulis
by Kaislynn Fri Jun 26, 2009 8:59 am
Vasha is flexible. RP specifics such as Encore etc can be modified
Age: 23
Appearance: Vasha is blind and usually wears dark glasses, when she has them. Otherwise her eyes are faded brown and she usually keeps them half closed. She generally wears dark cargo pants, soft shoes to feel the ground and a thick though tight sweater, long-sleeved. Apart from that, this is her physical appearance.
Weapon: korovin TK Pistol
Class/Ranking: Encore, Ghost
Personality: Vasha is loyal to ideals and makes very few bonds, but when she does they are tight ones. If someone is assigned to be her handler, to help her with her ghosting, she will probably bond very tightly to them. She loves music, and sounds of most varieties. Is often content to simply solve a puzzle, or discover a new pattern. But she also enjoys camaraderie, though she hasn't had much other than her father's (these 15 years]. She's currently still in a grief process since losing her father: a little bit of denial, anger, frustration, sadness, exhaustion and sometimes all of them together. Her experience of her world is very tactile and auditory (obviously), though she favors turning her blindness into a joke. It was how her father showed her the world. Otherwise, she is normally good-tempered and likes games, puzzles, and listening to other people's voices.
Short/Brief History:
Vasha grew up in the slums, blind. Her mother believed in the NA with all her heart and soul. When her father was not so sure. Her parents worked hard, scavenging--she was brought into the business as soon as she could walk, they taught her the value in trash. Unfortunately, with her handicap it was unwise to let her stick her little fingers into. So her parents let her disassemble the trash they brought in and ready it for resale. Using very careful (after a few mishaps one of which took off the top of her right ring finger) fingers she inspected items and discovered their inner workings. Gradually, Vasha realized that she could build a model of the items in her mind memorizing the bits that her fingers worked over. she began to experiment with building things in her mind. As she experimented in her mind she began to experiment with tangible building; the tangible building led to trying to make things work. One day, trying to make an engine work, Vasha pushed so hard that the engine began spinning, but as soon as she stopped concentrating on the mechanics beneath her fingers, it stopped. What she developed was a telekinetic skill for creating movement. She became very adept at moving the small things around her, but her blindness inhibited moving things without help. When her mother discovered her talent, she immediately required that they take her to the NA. It was the breaking point. Her parents could not reconcile their differences of opinion on the NA. Her father would not give his eight year old up. One night, he bundled her in her coat and handed her the plushy, belled lamb she'd always worn around her wrist (sucking on it when teething, and ringing to let her parents know where she was) and they vanished before morning. Since then she's lived a precarious and daunting life. Her father gave her a the Korovin at 9 to protect herself when he was out. One night, he disappeared and never came back. She ventured out several nights later and literally fell into a next of encore. She made the mistake of trying to pull something and her Ghosting was discovered. Remembering her father's hatred for the NA, and her lack of place to go, she joined up with Encore.
Currently: Vasha and Abel (Encore's leader is her partner
yes) are heading into the city to take out Axel.
Other: Blind with Telekinesis
Age: 23
Appearance: Vasha is blind and usually wears dark glasses, when she has them. Otherwise her eyes are faded brown and she usually keeps them half closed. She generally wears dark cargo pants, soft shoes to feel the ground and a thick though tight sweater, long-sleeved. Apart from that, this is her physical appearance.
Weapon: korovin TK Pistol
Class/Ranking: Encore, Ghost
Personality: Vasha is loyal to ideals and makes very few bonds, but when she does they are tight ones. If someone is assigned to be her handler, to help her with her ghosting, she will probably bond very tightly to them. She loves music, and sounds of most varieties. Is often content to simply solve a puzzle, or discover a new pattern. But she also enjoys camaraderie, though she hasn't had much other than her father's (these 15 years]. She's currently still in a grief process since losing her father: a little bit of denial, anger, frustration, sadness, exhaustion and sometimes all of them together. Her experience of her world is very tactile and auditory (obviously), though she favors turning her blindness into a joke. It was how her father showed her the world. Otherwise, she is normally good-tempered and likes games, puzzles, and listening to other people's voices.
Short/Brief History:
Vasha grew up in the slums, blind. Her mother believed in the NA with all her heart and soul. When her father was not so sure. Her parents worked hard, scavenging--she was brought into the business as soon as she could walk, they taught her the value in trash. Unfortunately, with her handicap it was unwise to let her stick her little fingers into. So her parents let her disassemble the trash they brought in and ready it for resale. Using very careful (after a few mishaps one of which took off the top of her right ring finger) fingers she inspected items and discovered their inner workings. Gradually, Vasha realized that she could build a model of the items in her mind memorizing the bits that her fingers worked over. she began to experiment with building things in her mind. As she experimented in her mind she began to experiment with tangible building; the tangible building led to trying to make things work. One day, trying to make an engine work, Vasha pushed so hard that the engine began spinning, but as soon as she stopped concentrating on the mechanics beneath her fingers, it stopped. What she developed was a telekinetic skill for creating movement. She became very adept at moving the small things around her, but her blindness inhibited moving things without help. When her mother discovered her talent, she immediately required that they take her to the NA. It was the breaking point. Her parents could not reconcile their differences of opinion on the NA. Her father would not give his eight year old up. One night, he bundled her in her coat and handed her the plushy, belled lamb she'd always worn around her wrist (sucking on it when teething, and ringing to let her parents know where she was) and they vanished before morning. Since then she's lived a precarious and daunting life. Her father gave her a the Korovin at 9 to protect herself when he was out. One night, he disappeared and never came back. She ventured out several nights later and literally fell into a next of encore. She made the mistake of trying to pull something and her Ghosting was discovered. Remembering her father's hatred for the NA, and her lack of place to go, she joined up with Encore.
Currently: Vasha and Abel (Encore's leader is her partner
yes) are heading into the city to take out Axel.Other: Blind with Telekinesis
Last edited by Kaislynn on Fri Aug 28, 2009 7:37 pm; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : RP cancelled)
Kaislynn- Spectral Light
- Join date : 2009-05-17
Posts : 453
Age : 37
Location : State of Disarray
Re: Kaislynn's Portfolio of Panik
by Kaislynn Fri Aug 28, 2009 7:35 pm
Name: Fennery Che (Fen for short)
Species: half Etti, half human
Age: 17
Profession: Pilot/Smuggler
Planet of Origin/Birth: Born en route to Etti IV on a trade ship.
Appearance: Fen's skin is very pale and in some lights has definite blue undertones. Her hair is black and wavy, she keeps it cut above her shoulders, with bangs to keep it out of her eyes. Her features are delicate and sweet. Fen inherited her coloring and delicate features from her Etti mother, but unfortunately (according to her) she did not inherit the slim tall build. Instead, the little pilot stands a diminutive 5'4'' and has a broad set of hips though keeping in shape has kept her healthy size and weight. She wears a loose set of pants and a long sleeve, tight fitting black shirt. Most days she's got a short, 3/4 sleeve jacket that she wears over top of that.
Equipment:
-Small backpack for essentials, carries a small survival kit usable for most planets.
-SSK-7 Heavy Blaster Pistol
-Q2 Holdout blaster
Personality: Fen was raised to talk back. She's a spirited woman who loves the stars. She doesn't much like being under authority and tends to find her own goals to be the most important. She is committed to others by way of personal relationships: hence those she considers her friends or family have a huge significance, others less so. Being half etti, she doesn't identify with with any particular species and so feels little loyalty to either. Fen loves little things and big things, she has a sense of wonder that can eclipses her sense of the people that are close to her. She is an excellent pilot however and has a quick and clever mind, especially when it comes to manipulating and avoiding the law.
History: Fen's history is her own. For now.
Species: half Etti, half human
Age: 17
Profession: Pilot/Smuggler
Planet of Origin/Birth: Born en route to Etti IV on a trade ship.
Appearance: Fen's skin is very pale and in some lights has definite blue undertones. Her hair is black and wavy, she keeps it cut above her shoulders, with bangs to keep it out of her eyes. Her features are delicate and sweet. Fen inherited her coloring and delicate features from her Etti mother, but unfortunately (according to her) she did not inherit the slim tall build. Instead, the little pilot stands a diminutive 5'4'' and has a broad set of hips though keeping in shape has kept her healthy size and weight. She wears a loose set of pants and a long sleeve, tight fitting black shirt. Most days she's got a short, 3/4 sleeve jacket that she wears over top of that.
Equipment:
-Small backpack for essentials, carries a small survival kit usable for most planets.
-SSK-7 Heavy Blaster Pistol
-Q2 Holdout blaster
Personality: Fen was raised to talk back. She's a spirited woman who loves the stars. She doesn't much like being under authority and tends to find her own goals to be the most important. She is committed to others by way of personal relationships: hence those she considers her friends or family have a huge significance, others less so. Being half etti, she doesn't identify with with any particular species and so feels little loyalty to either. Fen loves little things and big things, she has a sense of wonder that can eclipses her sense of the people that are close to her. She is an excellent pilot however and has a quick and clever mind, especially when it comes to manipulating and avoiding the law.
History: Fen's history is her own. For now.
Kaislynn- Spectral Light
- Join date : 2009-05-17
Posts : 453
Age : 37
Location : State of Disarray
Sadly gone RP: Battle of the Gimigi
by Kaislynn Mon Oct 19, 2009 7:56 pm
Name: Tostsh Aw'dar
Role playing information:
World:
Race: Gimigi
Age: 26
Appearance
Personality: Tostsh is a firebrand. He is loyal above all to freedom. The sword he carries is one that he took from a J-Slaver that he killed. It is of Archon make. The Ax he carries is less fancy and more brutish: it is the weapon that he made himself and fashioned over time in his militia career. Tostsh has begun to loosen up toward life after being mentored by Dan'on for years but he is still very hard and focused. He likes carrots and loves Gimigi music.
Bio: Even as a young Gimigi, Tostsh was a fighter. He pretended to do battle constantly. Wrestling with his siblings and thrill-seeking; his devil-may care attitude worried his mother. When Tostsh was still young, his family was equally slaughtered and abducted into slavery by J-world slavers. Unlike most Gimigi, his immediate reaction was to seek revenge. He joined a guerilla Gimigi group and established himself as a j-slaver killer. Years later he met Dan'on, the leader of the majority of the Gimigi resistance. It changed his life. Dan'on has been a mentor to Tostsh ever since. The young Gimigi has risen up to second in command of the resitance on Flat World.
Other: He only knows of two siblings being alive--twins who were 8 when they were taken: Kyn (f) and Kain (m). Someday, in wild imaginings, Tostsh dreams of freeing them. The other siblings were mostly slaughtered while the family attempted to defend itself. But the youngest five were taken. Kyn and Kain were the oldest of those taken and have the best chance of survival. They would be twenty now.
Also Tostsh has a deep mistrust of off-worlders i.e. non-Gimigi.
Role playing information:
World:
Drunut wrote:This Idea has been bouncing around in my head for a long time, and I figure it's about time I get some people doing it. Also, it's my first serious effort at DMing, so cut me a little slack if I seem a bit disorganized.
Story
This is split into seperate parts.
Pt.1-The Gathering<-----Current
Pt.2-The Despair
Pt.3-The Redemption
Pt.4-The Savior
General Story:
Flatworld was a world floating in the midst of space. On it live the Gimigi, who are peaceful creatures oblivious to other happenings. One day they are discovered by the inhabitants of Jaundiced-World (J-world) who subsequently enslave the Gimigi, selling them to the other worlds, and suck all the resources out of the land. Some Gimigi, however, have resisted the Off-worlders and formed a resistance group to defeat J-world. Other Gimigi have not been able to cope, and became abominations prowling the surface for food. Only coming out at dusk to hunt. The resistance has only just begun though. Soon the conflict will escalate, and the fighting will change the fate of all the worlds. Wether it be for better or worse.
Flatworld: Is just that. It's a flat rectangle of a world inhabited by the Gimigi. It was composed of lush woods and rolling hills of grass, but now it is a barren wasteland.
---Gimigi: Gimigi small lemming-like creatures who are agriculturaly inclined. However, other worlds are using them as slaves and workers. Forcing them to adapt to the hard lifestyle.
Other Worlds:These are the other worlds in the galaxy and include:
---Round World: Round world is very similar to earth in the 1900's. Gimigi are used as slaves in Round-world. It is closest to Flat-world.
---High World: The abode of Archons, keepers of equality and justice. They are at odds with low world and do not enslave Gimigi. High world is referred to by some as Heaven
---Mid-world: Mid-world is a world caught between the ongoing conflict of High and Low world. They are in a period of time similar to our Dark-ages. Kings and queens rule with Knights to carry out their work. Gimigi are used as slaves here, and the people are highly superstitious.
---Low World: Low-world is the abode of Hellions. They are constantly at war with the Archons. Their world is closest described as Hell.
---Equal World: Equal world is one of the two Worlds to reach it's peak evolution. Everyone on Equal world is treated as equal. No one person is more important than another, and every decision made is made to benefit everyone. Anyone who is not 'equal' is hunted down by the Impartial Imperators, a task force that is authorized to kill or detain anyone who disturbs the balance of the world.
---Jaundiced-world: Is the other world to reach it's peak, this time becoming extremely biased and their technology could be considered steam punk. J-world also influences all the other worlds. A polar opposite to Equal World, J-world is a place where no man is equal. If you do your job you are praised. If you do not, you are punished. J-world was the first world to discover Flat-world and was the first to send slavers down to Traffick Gimigi and sell them to the other worlds. It is ruled by a as of yet undefined Emperor. Who through his words convinces the generations that Gimigi are vile blood-thirsty cannibals.
(I can go into more detail on the worlds as is needed.)
So you will have to have your character either as an off-worlder (can be for or against J-world etc.) or a Gimigi (Freedom fighter or Slave.) I do have a story in mind for this, and it does mainly focus on the conflict between the Gimigi and J-world. I may make other Rp's that deal with other conflicts within the Flatworld universe. I do have a character in mind, and am willing to stretch pretty far in terms of limits on characters (no superpowers please.)
Race: Gimigi
Age: 26
Appearance
Personality: Tostsh is a firebrand. He is loyal above all to freedom. The sword he carries is one that he took from a J-Slaver that he killed. It is of Archon make. The Ax he carries is less fancy and more brutish: it is the weapon that he made himself and fashioned over time in his militia career. Tostsh has begun to loosen up toward life after being mentored by Dan'on for years but he is still very hard and focused. He likes carrots and loves Gimigi music.
Bio: Even as a young Gimigi, Tostsh was a fighter. He pretended to do battle constantly. Wrestling with his siblings and thrill-seeking; his devil-may care attitude worried his mother. When Tostsh was still young, his family was equally slaughtered and abducted into slavery by J-world slavers. Unlike most Gimigi, his immediate reaction was to seek revenge. He joined a guerilla Gimigi group and established himself as a j-slaver killer. Years later he met Dan'on, the leader of the majority of the Gimigi resistance. It changed his life. Dan'on has been a mentor to Tostsh ever since. The young Gimigi has risen up to second in command of the resitance on Flat World.
Other: He only knows of two siblings being alive--twins who were 8 when they were taken: Kyn (f) and Kain (m). Someday, in wild imaginings, Tostsh dreams of freeing them. The other siblings were mostly slaughtered while the family attempted to defend itself. But the youngest five were taken. Kyn and Kain were the oldest of those taken and have the best chance of survival. They would be twenty now.
Also Tostsh has a deep mistrust of off-worlders i.e. non-Gimigi.
Kaislynn- Spectral Light
- Join date : 2009-05-17
Posts : 453
Age : 37
Location : State of Disarray
Detective Conan Henley
by Kaislynn Sun Oct 25, 2009 6:46 pm
Rp World: Darker City Streets
Name: Conan Henley
Gender: Male
Age: 29 years old
Height: 6'3'' Weight: 200lbs.
Eyes: Blue-grey Hair: Black
Henley is an avid Seahawks and Thunderbirds fan. Attended naval academy. Drives a green '95 Jeep Cherokee.
In his jeep radio: Queen.
On his PC: hotmail, porn, itunes, encyclopedia brittanica--open to seventeenth century Turks.
Not married.
Plays well with other children . . . usually.
Tattoos: two, prayer hands over one shoulder blade and a tribal dream catcher on the back of his right hand.
Half Skagit Indian and half English.
Native to Seattle.
SPD. Homicide Detective. High solve percentage on his cases, 89%. Moderate Complaints.
Reports read: Intelligence, creativity, mistrust of authority--but surprisingly acquiescent to authority, friendly, good team player, mostly liked and respected, hard-worker, hard-player.
Wounded three times in the line of duty: Two gun-shot wounds on two occasions (two taps to left shoulder, one to right torso, broken ribs and collar bone), hit by a get away car, broken femur, bruised ribs.
Name: Conan Henley
Gender: Male
Age: 29 years old
Height: 6'3'' Weight: 200lbs.
Eyes: Blue-grey Hair: Black
Henley is an avid Seahawks and Thunderbirds fan. Attended naval academy. Drives a green '95 Jeep Cherokee.
In his jeep radio: Queen.
On his PC: hotmail, porn, itunes, encyclopedia brittanica--open to seventeenth century Turks.
Not married.
Plays well with other children . . . usually.
Tattoos: two, prayer hands over one shoulder blade and a tribal dream catcher on the back of his right hand.
Half Skagit Indian and half English.
Native to Seattle.
SPD. Homicide Detective. High solve percentage on his cases, 89%. Moderate Complaints.
Reports read: Intelligence, creativity, mistrust of authority--but surprisingly acquiescent to authority, friendly, good team player, mostly liked and respected, hard-worker, hard-player.
Wounded three times in the line of duty: Two gun-shot wounds on two occasions (two taps to left shoulder, one to right torso, broken ribs and collar bone), hit by a get away car, broken femur, bruised ribs.
Kaislynn- Spectral Light
- Join date : 2009-05-17
Posts : 453
Age : 37
Location : State of Disarray
HHNF/Highwaymen: Mina Greer
by Kaislynn Mon Nov 16, 2009 8:03 pm
Name: Mina Alexia Howler (Greer)
Nickname: Monkey, M. A. Greer (writing pseudonym), Mag or Maglite (developed in college)
Position: M.S. in Investigative Journalism, currently jobless. She has a year before her loans kick in.
Height: 5'7''
Weight: 150 lb
Build: slim, scrappy
Most Notable Tattoos: the word "Truth" across her lower back
Personality: Generally very serious and focused, though she discovered alcohol in highschool and enjoys a good time now and then. When Mina gets a hold of something she can be stubborn and patient. She has learned to laugh at life, as part of a strategy to help combat her stress and issues though she finds it difficult sometimes.
History: Mina's dad, Charlie Clark was a biker in the Sons of Havoc gang, out of San Bernardino Chapter. Her mother was Charlie's old lady. When Mina was conceived, things had been rocky for some time. Charlie didn't like Corin bossing him around and Corin was trying to take care of herself. Finally when she told him about the pregnancy the fighting boiled to a head and the yelling turned into pushing. Both scored some good hits. The fight was broken up by a higher ranking Patch and their relationship continued.
The fighting continued off and on for the next two years occasionally becoming quite violent. Corin managed to keep Mina mostly out of it--though kids rather manage to hear everything you don't want them too. Sometimes Corin drank herself into a rage and beat up on Charlie and the next night Charlie would return the favor. Finally, one evening in a sober fight, Charlie threatened Mina. Corin picked up his gun and shot him, nicking his kidney. He was shocked but continued yelling at her and that she had killed him as loud as he could until Corin shot him a second time in the head. She proceeded to take the two year old Mina, two backpacks of clothes, all the money and amo, and get gone on Charlie's bike.
Corin and Mina ran for a year. They made it out to Michigan where they ran into Kail Dewraith--then a Nomad Enforcer in the Sons of Havoc club. He captured the pair and discovered that they were fugitives. In a shocking decision, he decided to let Corin drop Mina off with a relative before taking her back to face justice in Portland. The last time Mina saw her mother was when her uncle picked her up. Corin was supposed to be released by Kail during a fire fight to come back to Mina after three weeks. Corin never showed up.
Mina was raised with two cousins (Sascha and TJ) by her Uncle Alex Howler in Canada. Her paperwork was shifted around by a friend in Canadian government showing that she had been born a Canadian citizen instead of in California. She played well with the other two children, though she wasn't a leader, she was neither a follower (TJ was two years older than her and Sascha was about the same age). If Mina did not want to play she did her own thing easily. She was a serious child at first and refused to speak to anyone in the family. Her uncle and aunt were very worried and got her counseling. She opened up after, though no one was sure exactly what the counseling had done or how much she remembered. She began to ask questions about her mother when she was fourteen, but had been showing an investigative nature for years.
Currently, she is investigating her mother; trying to discover Corin's whereabouts or death.
Strengths: focused, smart, unrelenting, loyal, headstrong, willing to lie
Weakness: obsessive, nosy, unrelenting, a pain in the ass, sometimes very angry
Addictions: the truth
Specialty: writing in depth about a single subject
Bike: '97 Jeep (right now the jeep is full of camping gear, sleeping bag, books, practically a mobile home of sorts)
Items Usually on person: jacket, notebook, pen and pencil, wallet, mace and taser, blackberry, a book of essays, a photo of her mother with her uncle and a friend of theirs
Nickname: Monkey, M. A. Greer (writing pseudonym), Mag or Maglite (developed in college)
Position: M.S. in Investigative Journalism, currently jobless. She has a year before her loans kick in.
Height: 5'7''
Weight: 150 lb
Build: slim, scrappy
Most Notable Tattoos: the word "Truth" across her lower back
Personality: Generally very serious and focused, though she discovered alcohol in highschool and enjoys a good time now and then. When Mina gets a hold of something she can be stubborn and patient. She has learned to laugh at life, as part of a strategy to help combat her stress and issues though she finds it difficult sometimes.
History: Mina's dad, Charlie Clark was a biker in the Sons of Havoc gang, out of San Bernardino Chapter. Her mother was Charlie's old lady. When Mina was conceived, things had been rocky for some time. Charlie didn't like Corin bossing him around and Corin was trying to take care of herself. Finally when she told him about the pregnancy the fighting boiled to a head and the yelling turned into pushing. Both scored some good hits. The fight was broken up by a higher ranking Patch and their relationship continued.
The fighting continued off and on for the next two years occasionally becoming quite violent. Corin managed to keep Mina mostly out of it--though kids rather manage to hear everything you don't want them too. Sometimes Corin drank herself into a rage and beat up on Charlie and the next night Charlie would return the favor. Finally, one evening in a sober fight, Charlie threatened Mina. Corin picked up his gun and shot him, nicking his kidney. He was shocked but continued yelling at her and that she had killed him as loud as he could until Corin shot him a second time in the head. She proceeded to take the two year old Mina, two backpacks of clothes, all the money and amo, and get gone on Charlie's bike.
Corin and Mina ran for a year. They made it out to Michigan where they ran into Kail Dewraith--then a Nomad Enforcer in the Sons of Havoc club. He captured the pair and discovered that they were fugitives. In a shocking decision, he decided to let Corin drop Mina off with a relative before taking her back to face justice in Portland. The last time Mina saw her mother was when her uncle picked her up. Corin was supposed to be released by Kail during a fire fight to come back to Mina after three weeks. Corin never showed up.
Mina was raised with two cousins (Sascha and TJ) by her Uncle Alex Howler in Canada. Her paperwork was shifted around by a friend in Canadian government showing that she had been born a Canadian citizen instead of in California. She played well with the other two children, though she wasn't a leader, she was neither a follower (TJ was two years older than her and Sascha was about the same age). If Mina did not want to play she did her own thing easily. She was a serious child at first and refused to speak to anyone in the family. Her uncle and aunt were very worried and got her counseling. She opened up after, though no one was sure exactly what the counseling had done or how much she remembered. She began to ask questions about her mother when she was fourteen, but had been showing an investigative nature for years.
Currently, she is investigating her mother; trying to discover Corin's whereabouts or death.
Strengths: focused, smart, unrelenting, loyal, headstrong, willing to lie
Weakness: obsessive, nosy, unrelenting, a pain in the ass, sometimes very angry
Addictions: the truth
Specialty: writing in depth about a single subject
Bike: '97 Jeep (right now the jeep is full of camping gear, sleeping bag, books, practically a mobile home of sorts)
Items Usually on person: jacket, notebook, pen and pencil, wallet, mace and taser, blackberry, a book of essays, a photo of her mother with her uncle and a friend of theirs
Kaislynn- Spectral Light
- Join date : 2009-05-17
Posts : 453
Age : 37
Location : State of Disarray
Cal
by Kaislynn Tue Jan 19, 2010 12:44 am
Name: Calais "Cal" Pavlis
RP World: Darker City Streets
Gender: Female
Age: 18 and 110
Height: 5'7''
Weight: 130lbs
Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes: Blue
Appearance:
Current: The Shadow's right hand woman (vampire)
History:
Ever since the 20's, Cal had been devoted to him. Him, who she called Sir.
She had been the third daughter of a Greek fisherman in Boston. When her older sisters were married, she began working in her father's office. She helped him organize and sell, kept the accounting records--after night classes. Men still scoffed at her so her father had to deal with customers, but she helped keep it organized for him. He could neither read nor write, only pen his name. So when she figured out a deal or helped him understand, he would tell her, "Kala koritsi, kalais, kala koritsi." He always smiled when he did too. It was a play on her name, the Greek words for good, girl and her name all began with a kappa.
Her father had died at sea when she was eighteen. No husband or brothers in sight. the business was still fine, but she was forced to rely on the other men to help her with the customers. Many of them resented being told what to do, especially by her. One night, several of the men had come to her office. They appreciated her work in the business but could no longer take orders from her. She simply didn't know what she was doing, they said. They guaranteed her a share in the company and told her to take her mother and move in with one of her sisters. Or get married, one of them joked and elbowed one of the younger men. That had been it. Not one of them had laid a hand on her. Not one of them had even looked at her lewdly. The young man the joke had been leveled at blushed crimson and looked away. The men had all, however, been serious about her leaving. And so the office was taken from her by non-violent political coup. Instead of returning home, she had run into the rain that night, intent on taking her failure into the harbor.
He offered her another way, another life, soon after her father died. But she had refused, six times, until he found her near the harbor that evening. She could not face her mother, let alone her father's grave and spirit, knowing she had lost the family business because she was a woman.
She no longer goes by Calais, but Cal.
RP World: Darker City Streets
Gender: Female
Age: 18 and 110
Height: 5'7''
Weight: 130lbs
Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes: Blue
Appearance:
Current: The Shadow's right hand woman (vampire)
History:
Ever since the 20's, Cal had been devoted to him. Him, who she called Sir.
She had been the third daughter of a Greek fisherman in Boston. When her older sisters were married, she began working in her father's office. She helped him organize and sell, kept the accounting records--after night classes. Men still scoffed at her so her father had to deal with customers, but she helped keep it organized for him. He could neither read nor write, only pen his name. So when she figured out a deal or helped him understand, he would tell her, "Kala koritsi, kalais, kala koritsi." He always smiled when he did too. It was a play on her name, the Greek words for good, girl and her name all began with a kappa.
Her father had died at sea when she was eighteen. No husband or brothers in sight. the business was still fine, but she was forced to rely on the other men to help her with the customers. Many of them resented being told what to do, especially by her. One night, several of the men had come to her office. They appreciated her work in the business but could no longer take orders from her. She simply didn't know what she was doing, they said. They guaranteed her a share in the company and told her to take her mother and move in with one of her sisters. Or get married, one of them joked and elbowed one of the younger men. That had been it. Not one of them had laid a hand on her. Not one of them had even looked at her lewdly. The young man the joke had been leveled at blushed crimson and looked away. The men had all, however, been serious about her leaving. And so the office was taken from her by non-violent political coup. Instead of returning home, she had run into the rain that night, intent on taking her failure into the harbor.
He offered her another way, another life, soon after her father died. But she had refused, six times, until he found her near the harbor that evening. She could not face her mother, let alone her father's grave and spirit, knowing she had lost the family business because she was a woman.
She no longer goes by Calais, but Cal.
Kaislynn- Spectral Light
- Join date : 2009-05-17
Posts : 453
Age : 37
Location : State of Disarray
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