Post by kavick on Oct 23, 2009 9:53:19 GMT -7
† Kavick †
[/center]† General Information †
Full Name:
Kavick (KAH-VICK). That is it, nothing else. He gave it to himself because he either forgot his birth name or was never given one.
Nicknames:
Kavy, Kav, Mutt
Gender:
Male
Race:
Lycanthrope (Therianthrope, Werewolf SUE ME I'm old and like Lycanthrope as a term have a tofu burger)
Age:
Late forties, early fifties
Age they appear: (not required for
Mid twenties
Orientation:
Heterosexual with a mild curiosity towards bi-curious but is hetero but comfortable with his sexuality.
A chronic illness that plagues him minimum of two times a year, most often four times a year due to the HIV he had prior to his LIFE CHANGING EVENT (this is still being okayed by admins so it may very well change).
† Personality †
Basic Personality:
Sarcastic
Kavick does not always mean to be sarcastic. Though by definition sarcasm is meant as a bite, as means to hurt another with a comment, Kavick does not always use sarcasm as a way to harm another. He has a dark side and does have a bit of a dark sense of humor. It leaks out in sarcastic comments and a sarcastic wit. These moments of sarcasm are followed by or accompanied by a smile or a twinkle in his eye. If anyone wishing to converse with him beyond casual conversations they are tested with his sarcasm. Not always, but most of the time.
Laid back
He has had a hard life. He was born into a hard life, made a hard life for himself, and was thrown into an even harder life. These hardships and trials have now left Kavick with a sense of "things could get worse". He lacks the desire to start a fight or get into an argument unless it is absolutely necessary and even then he is wise to choose his battles. He would rather sit back and let the other do the talking or watch the world go by. His life is as simple as he can make it be and he would rather not stir it up by arguing or caring about the small things. As he has found, the small things are not worth getting upset over.
Compassionate
If and when those are close to him, Kavick will defend them. If he meets a stranger and this stranger tells him their life woes, he will listen and be the shoulder to cry on. He will give advice, even give a few bucks to a stranger in need. He has found homes for kittens and stray dogs, even raised a few of them himself. Cats seem to like him for whatever reason. He does not feel himself superior to anyone else and that a handout from a stranger can change everything in life. He is aware that he has many, many black marks against him in his life because of his job and that one day he will have to pay his dues and when that day comes, he hopes his fate will lessen just a tad bit.
Loner
He was a part of a group in his teenager years. This group, he grew to realize, cared for him only because he partied with them, he stole with them, he slept with them, and did drugs with them. He was still a loner by nature and after the "Change" and the years of struggling with it and living in and near forests to not bring harm onto others he realized how alone he was. He would have friends, he would enjoy having friends, but the friends he makes are humans and he can only socialize with them at an arm's length and for a set period of time. Fellow Lycanthropes avoid him because of his smell. He grew close to a few Lycans before but when their Packs learned of the friendship he quickly ducked out of the scene.
Likes:
Coffee
Kavick loves coffee. He replaced the drugs of his teenage years with coffee and this makes him a bit of a snob when it comes to a cup of joe. Due to his coffee passion, he is unable to function properly upon waking until he has had at least one cup clutched in his paws.
Cigarettes
A habit that his nose loathes him for but a habit that is a habit more out of having been smoking for so long than an actual physical addiction. Kavick has been smoking since he was nine. Though he knows it is pointless to be smoking and it gives his nose hell he would rather keep this habit. Perhaps it reminds him of his humanhood.
T-shirts with funny sayings
He is male. Enough said. He is partial to the raunchy t-shirts or the t-shirts that go over another's head in its cleverness.
Art
His escape. He has been drawing since he laid his hands on a pencil, even if it meant the walls and furniture were to be subjected to his obsession. He has sold a painting for $536,000 at a private auction. Art makes him money but art is not done to just make him money. Art is his life, it helps him calm, it helps him to think, and it connects him with the natural world. He also enjoys comic books.
Books
He taught himself to read and because he taught himself to read, he discovered he rather enjoyed it. He stole books to read, he read newspapers left by people in bus stations. He even reads medical texts. Now, the books in his temporary collection are history related and religion related as well as the occasional fictional fantasy story.
Music though music that is actually music and not those screaming their heads off which he does not find much of a talent
He prefers European epic metal bands, grunge if he feels a bit down, and classical when painting. Alternative can be fun, too, but it tends to make his head hurt. If he attends concerts, which is rare, he tends to hang in the back due to the sensitivity of his ears.
Hates:
His chronic illness
The HIV that he was unknowingly infected with prior to his unexpected change has, as far as he can tell, affected the Lycanthropy within him. What healing properties his type tend to have are slowed for him. As a fellow Lycan once told him, "You smell wrong. Your scent is... off, almost sickly," and then proceeded to attack him. If he is sick twice a year he considers it a good year. He is plagued for days up to a week with flu-like symptoms that render him helpless and vulnerable. What the virus has done to his new genetic makeup even he is unsure. He is not one to explore the possibilities, only live with what he knows. And he dares not mate with a female. Or have children. He has no idea what will become of them with his peculiar condition.
Alcohol
His father was an alcoholic and because of this he will not consume it. He will go to bars and to pubs, even with the occasional acquaintance or client but his drink of choice is water or juice. Though he was a drug addict in his younger years, he despises how alcohol affects his mind and body. Which, he realizes, does not make too much sense.
Packs
Kavick has nothing against Pack-life. He has nothing against Packs or those that live in Packs. The reason why he is not fond of packs is that they tend to pick on him, harass him, and attempt to kill him. Unless they are clients of his, when they catch wind of him, they tend to not like him. He wonders if it is a dominance issue or simply because he "does not smell right". Whichever the reason, he avoids Packs unless they approach him with cash to take care of a threat. However, if a Pack approaches and are not hostile, he will be friendly in return.
Asian women
As unusual as it sounds, Kavick cannot and will not date those of Asian descent. His mother was Japanese and his mother was the one who gave him his scars. He is now able to hold conversations with Asian women but he can never, ever date one unless he wants to start having nightmares and vomit when she attempts to kiss him. Asian women churn his stomach, cause his bowels to clench up, and his throat want to scream in terror.
Those of an uppity/snobby nature, especially females
He is not out to date anyone. He is a loner, though can feel lonely. He does not mind having conversations with anyone that cares to have one. However, he cannot stand when someone feels or behaves as if they are better than him or anyone else. It annoys him to no end when a female is behaving as if she is the hottest piece of ass in the universe or if she lacks enough manners to not say "please" "thank you" and continuously interrupts him. Self-confidence is an attractive thing but he will not deal with those who want to be better than everyone else. It is a severe character flaw to him and one that is used to cover up their weaknesses.
Talents:
He has a knack for creativity and the arts, as well as being able figure out how to use most guns and a nice assortment of blades. He has a high pain tolerance as well and Kavick has the uncanny knack to get himself into troublesome situations. He also knows ways to sober up drug highs and that eating peanut butter neutralizes alcohol in your system as well as on your breath. Chocolate neutralizes the smell of cigarettes on your breath.
Habits:
Smoking
Drawing
Staring
Silence
Sarcasm
Collecting t-shirts with funny sayings
† Appearance †
Skin Color:
His skin is on the paler side and during certain times of the year paler than usual but when out in the sunlight more than usual he will tan, if only slightly.
Hair Color:
His hair is ebony as the raven's wing and soft a dove's feather. It makes styling his hair rather annoying. If his Asian heritage is true, it explains the impossibility of doing anything with it. He tends to keep his hair choppy and cheek bone to chin length but like many males, he gets attacks of the less caring and will abandon all hopes of trimming his hair for months past its due date. He has learned to cut his own hair and rather successfully, too.
Eye Color:
His eyes are brown or, well, were brown at one time. Due to the unusual circumstances of his Lycanthropy his eyes have begun to develop a hue of amethyst and it has begun to progress. He assumes within another two years his eyes will have changed color completely. His eyes have a hint of a slant and the shape of almonds because of the Japanese heritage. Besides his hair, this is the only hint that his mother was his true mother though he still has doubts.
Build:
Kavick is, despite his supposed heritage, 6'4", which puts him average for a male Lycanthrope in their human form (or so he believes since all the males he has met have been rather tall...yes, I explain this out better), tall for a human male. His build is lean, not disproportionate to his height. Due to his jobs and with the aid of his Lycanthropy he keeps himself fit by running in the human form and lifting the occasional weight. This puts him at 175 lbs, which is rather underweight for his height and size.
Piercings/Scars/Tattoos:
Kavick is scarred. For a Lycanthrope, scarred more than the usual. For a human, it would be ludicrous to think a human has so many. The scars cover his chest, his stomach, a few on his thighs, but especially his back. These scars are long, thin, resembling those of the blade of a knife. Percentage wise, 95% of the scars are pre-Lycanthrope. The rest are from fights he barely escaped. He has a tattoo that he does not remember receiving on his shoulder. It is of a raven flying across a moon and in the shades and the craters there is a face with a cynical smile. If he had a birthmark or any distinguishing moles, they have disappeared beneath the knife.
Choice of Clothing:
At times, the t-shirts he wears will carry the names of bands he enjoys or humorous sayings (it is a hobby of his to collect t-shirts with funny sayings). He will wear jeans of blue or black, and will wear the occasional leather if the situation calls for it. He favors boots of comfortable makes and models and simple necklaces of earrings that rarely call attention to himself. He does not find it necessary to call more attention to himself than needed; his scent will do that alone. Clothes are clothes to him and these clothes provide warmth and shelter and he would rather keep to himself as much as possible.
Wolf Appearance: (only required for
A hodge podge of colors. He is a mutt and what a mutt Kavick is! Though the most distinguishable hue of his fur is black, such as that on the top of his human head, his undercoat has a mixture of grays and whites and browns. He believes he resembles what the ancient ancestor of the wolf looked like but who remembers what they looked like... they are all quite dead.
Other:
He can't speak a lick of Japanese or German or any other language, which causes problems for his line of work. And he's a goofball when very comfortable, too. And his religion of choice is his own offshoot of Paganism because it seems rather strange to him if those of his species did NOT have beliefs in the Earth...
† History †
History:
He was born, give or take his memory is not quite the best, perhaps fifty years ago. He could be older, he could be younger, but he believes probably older. At least, when he thinks back to his childhood he remembers certain events that occurred during those times. His mother was Japanese brought to the States with her family after the bombings in the fourth world war. His father was part of an elite underground group that opposed the United States during their third war with China and its affiliates. How his parents got together, how they found each other and decided to marry always baffled him. When he was born, he did not look very Japanese, nor did he look very German. His parents did not care; neither of them showed much maternal love towards him. His father was a drunk who worked a factory job and would hit his mother. When he drank, he would hit Kavick around and laugh about how the boy cowered. He spoke little English, and it was later in life he realized his father spoke constantly of a Hitler that was one of the greatest public speakers who lived during the second war and his father had been a part of the third Holocaust. His father was loud, he was belligerent, but he was not the parent who frightened Kavick the most. (Okee, seriously, if peoples don't think the US is going to get into at least ONE more war and another Holocaust will not happen.. ...look at history. Come on, I had to think of something on a whim. And this is what I came up with. ...Stop looking at me like that!)
His mother was quiet, she was meek, she was small and played the role of the perfect housewife. But she smiled. And when she smiled, she was frightening. When she smiled, she would use the kitchen knife to hold him down, to cut him, even use him sexually when he grew older. He screamed a lot, and when he did not scream his mother made him scream. She would not hit him, but she would speak in her chirpy bird language. He figured she was taking her aggression out on him. Or maybe she was scarred from her childhood. His father would sometimes watch and sometimes touch himself. He did not learn to speak until he was six. To this day, he cannot look at females of Asian descent without feeling sick.
Time is a very strange thing. Yes, children, when one is not aware of time or that the passage of it is typically a documented thing by clocks and television shows and the occasional rising and setting of the sun, Kavick may have realized he was a bit different. Just a little off. That perhaps when he should have been nine he was still that of a five year old. His mother aged, his mother still hurt him... but when he thinks back to it, she must have known. She must have known he was a freak, that he was different. She must have known his father was a creature of the wood.
He burned down the house when he was nine (or had the appearance of that of a nine year old). He killed them and he ran away. He lived on the streets and he taught himself to read from the newspapers people left in the bus stations and train stations. He stole food when he could, he smoked the butts of cigarettes, he read books to pass the time. He lived in homeless shelters and when he was twelve he was brought in to live with a group of people. One woman gave herself to him and he cried. When he was twelve, he was introduced to drugs. He learned to love them quickly, they opened up his mind, and he gained friends as well as lovers. He was popular, he was loved, he was needed. He received what he had not as a child. He always looked young for his age... and the group used it to their advantage. They used him in the age old art of sympathy money, he even prostituted himself out to women on the prowl for young flesh. It was such easy money, such an easy time... And he went between so many groups he really did not notice that time passed so oddly for him.
It changed at eighteen. Or he could have been sixteen. Hell, he could have three steps back into a sewer pipe. His name was Kavick by then, a name he had chosen. He was sitting outside a bar, smoking a joint, reeling from the effects of LSD and ketamine. His new squeeze was beside him, as well as two of their friends. A fight was happening in the bar behind them, but they did not pay the fight any mind. They were laughing at the conversation a street lamp was holding with a parked car across the street. Then there was glass everywhere. Two figures fell through the window. They were huge, they were furry, and there was blood everywhere. One landed on top of Kavick, and his midsection was burning. It was torn open, it was bleeding, there was blood swimming into the wound, there was crimson in his vision and it felt as if he was stomach was coming out. He managed to run. He ran for his life, he ran for miles, he ran for his life as he held himself in. He fell, he passed out, and when he woke up he was fine. There was no bleeding, there was no wound. But his shirt was torn to pieces, his pants stiff with aged blood, and he did not know how long he had been out.
It was a week later when he went through his first transformation. He was at a party in the woods, he was on another LSD binge. He was having sex in the pantry with a girl he had not met. She had slipped a pill into his mouth when he touched her. He walked out when it was over and he went into the living room to change the radio. The world began to swim. He thought he was having a bad trip. He stumbled outside and he vomited. It was red, bright red, and he tried to run. He fell, his bones cracked, his limps stretched, his skin tore, and he tried to scream. He saw things come out of the dirt, things form in the sky, and the moon laughed and laughed. He experienced the transformation for the first time and he did not remember what happened after that.
He woke up in the hospital weeks later. They said he had overdosed and had been found unconscious in the woods two days after the party. The doctor called him a piece of shit, told him he was a lowlife and told him to get out. As Kavick left, the doctor told him he was HIV positive.
With time, he learned what he was. And with time, he learned that he was not like many of the other Lycanthropes. The HIV had changed him, somehow. He would grow sick at times, he did not heal as fast. He grew winded when he ran distances that those of his kind would be able to manage without trouble. And he was constantly told he smelled sick and he was a threat. How he was a threat, Kavick, did not know. He also learned that he must have had a werewolf as a parent. He assumed it was his father; his mother was too damned frightening and she never grew hair besides the obvious places. But what he also assumed was that he may have been born with HIV, or he may have had the blood of the wolf in him and it was ignited with the mixture of another's blood... He was just different, and he was not very well liked and this was what made him being an assassin for hire much easier to handle.
Mother/Father:
Okasama (Formal term for mother), Japanese, age unknown but he guessed late twenties
Otosama (Formal term for father) or Vater (German), German, age unknown but he guessed fifties (His granpappy was a sand grinder. ....His father was a werewolf... yeah, that's it)
Siblings:
None
None that he knows of and prays he has none
Other:
He had a pet beetle as a kid. And kept a booger collection under his bed until he was seven.
† RP example An excerpt from your soul†
"Yeah, sure, Ragnar," she said and glanced behind her. She wanted to get her things but the look in Ragnar's eyes and the tone of his voice instantly alerted her something was up... Something bad. And Edwin or one of the others could get her things; probably Edwin, since she was suppose to be moving into his room.
She nodded to Ted, muttering to him, "Glad to see you're here with us today, Ted," and the twins as she followed Ragnar, her mind wandering to Kev and his impromptu speech. On the plane ride home, Barnaby had told Edwin and her that Kev was having a hard time sleeping, that he would have nightmares and wake screaming or in tears but most often he would wander away and sometimes go missing. It was a behavior that worried them all and it worried Astera as well... She would have to make a point to keep her eyes on him until his grieving period passed.
She made a mention of this to Ragnar, wanting to interrupt the uneasy silence that had passed between them. Her chest was tight, not sure why she suspected something was up, something more than the Riobhan situation. She hoped it would be the Riobhan situation. She could get herself out of that one...
And then... The library. Why the library of all places? She stepped in, her heart in her throat and beating so hard it literally hurt. Why the library? Ragnar said he wanted to speak to her in private.
Just like Jerome.
There was something off about him...
Just like Jerome.
And she could not decide if she wanted to sit or wanted to stand. In case he came after her.
He won't come after you! she shouted after she sat and swallowed.
I haven't done anything wrong. I haven't-
"-done anything," she said to Jerome. He sat behind the wooden desk, an open book across the top. He opened is desk drawer, removed something, and closed the drawer. He beckoned her forward.
"Come here, Astera," Jerome said. She shook her head no. He motioned again.
"No," she said, more firmly this time.
Jerome sighed. "Don't make me come after you. You remember what happened last time."
She did remember and so she came forward, her hair short because he had come after her last time and she did not want a repeat offense. She stood before the desk, hands clenched at her sides. Jerome watched her, observing her, getting a true thrill from her reactions.
"How are you today, Jerome?" Astera asked automatically, as she had been instructed to do in the past.
"Oh, Astera, I am having a bad day," he said with theatrical sorrow. "Someone shot one of my betas. Through the heart. Twice. Stabbed once in the throat. He is going to die by nightfall. Why are you wearing that old gray thing?" He nodded to her long sleeved t-shirt.
"Because," Astera said, "I shot your beta. He cornered me in the courtyard. He tried to rape me. I took care of him."
Another theatrical display; a sigh this time. "Oh Astera! What is one more dick inside your worthless cunt? You should have come to me, not taken matters into your own hands! He's already received his punishment but for you disobeying me you must be punished as well." Jerome motioned her forward. "Get on your knees and put your chin on the desk."
"No-!" she snarled.
"Do it, Astera," Jerome commanded. She was helpless to disobey. "Put your hands up on the desk. Good girl, good girl. Now... stick out your tongue."
Astera saw what was on the open book. A silver coin and two silver nails that were more like railroad spikes.
"No," she whispered. "Please, please don't make me do it...!"
But she had to. There was no choice. She stuck her tongue out and on it dropped the coin. And then each nail was pounded through her wrists, trapping her to the desk. She could not scream unless she wanted to risk swallowing the coin and she was left there to weep silently and bleed out until she gathered the courage to free and torture herself further.
† Let's talk about youTell us something random and you'll get a Cheeto not from the floor †
Name:
Renee, but call me Neeko.
Other Characters:
I have other characters on other boards... I've been rpin' for over ten years. But if you count all my characters... yeah, read my book when it's published and you'll get an eighth of 'em.
What's your poison?:
Well, let's see... I'm particularly fond of Absinte.. Though the licorice taste kind of gets to me so I mix it with Sprite or Sierra Mist though I'm not the biggest soda drinker... I am fond of rum. Rum, ah yes, rum... No one can go wrong with a lil Cap'n in ya..
Are you old enough to drink?
Why yes, yes I am.
Do you remember when the Muppets were still on television?
Hells yeah! I used to watch THE MUPPET BABIES! And the Muppet Show! I used to sing to that show ALL THE TIME! AND FRAGGLE ROCK, MAN, THAT WAS DA BOMB! And the original airings of Saturday Morning Sonic the Hedgehog and... and..
What's your favorite word?
Frak. Best word. Ever.
What's your favorite phrase?
Besides "Frak me!"? I would have to say "I have to make a food baby." Rather inappropriate but hilarious and catches people off guard.
What's your favorite show?
House is hawtter than a mad hatter but I loves me some Battlestar Galactica (BSG FOR THE WIN!). I also love Batman: The Animated Series because I have an unhealthy obsession with Harley Quinn.
Star Wars or Star Trek?
Oh, hoho.. the age old question... It would have to be BSG.
What do you have an unhealthy obsession with?
Besides Harley Quinn and BSG, I would say... angels. Yes, strange, I know, but I have quite the mind bank of angels. Not your Cupid-esque lil' Cherubs that fly around as fat babies singing songs and playing trumpets. NO, THOSE MOTHERFRAKKERS THAT'LL COME AND STOMP YO ASSES CAUSE THEY - excuse me.
Are you full of yourself?
No, I'm quite empty, thank you. It comes with being a strict vegetarian.
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