----

Character Submission Form

If you have a reserved slot and received acknowledgement from the game master, please post your character submission in this category for review and approval. Applications that do not receive approval are not valid. If you have questions, forward a message to The Harbinger of Ferocity. ----

• Name (and or Alias):(Utilize a realistic and or appropriate name. Aliases can be as a simple as one can imagine, but remember they are not actual names.)
• Gender:(As gender.)
• Age:(As age, minimum 18, maximum 60.)
• Lineage:(For humans, treat as race. For inhumans treat as previous race, but also their inhumanity; ex, "Native American - Psychic".)
• Fate:(For humans, begin with value of 3. For non-humans, begin with 2 or less. Provide description of expenditures.)
• Relationship Status:(For characters who are in a relationship, note this here. For characters not with one, remove this line. Provide description.)
• Occupational Status:(For characters who have an occupation, note this here. For characters without one, note as "Unemployed". Provide description.)
• Previous Occupations:(For characters who had previous occupations, note this here. For characters without one, remove this line.)
• Physical Description:(Provide, at minimum, a two paragraph description of a character's physical appearance. Note: Avoid unusualities and pictures.)
• Alternate Physical Description:(Provide, at minimum, a two paragraph description of a character's alternate physical appearance. For characters who do not change shape, remove this line.)
• Psychological Profile:(Provide, at minimum, a two paragraph description of the character's psychological state.)
• Alternate Psychological Profile:(Provide, at minimum a two paragraph description of the character's alternate psychological state. For characters with only a single psyche, remove this line.)
• Vices:For characters who have (bad) habits, note this here. Provide description. For characters without any, remove this line.)
• Background:(Provide, at minimum, a two paragraph description a character's upbringing.)
• Recent History:(Provide, at minimum, a two paragraph recent history of events the character has gone through. This will be expanded upon in your first post.)
• Additional Information:(For characters with additional notes. For characters without any, remove this line.)

Name: Henry Grimwald Moore Gender: Male Age: Approximately 24 Lineage: Unknown/Irish-American (Psychic: Telepathy which will expand to telekinesis) Fate: 2 Relationship Status: Single Occupational Status: Employed as a farmer. He wanders around working, generally with on small family farms that offer him room and board, saving up enough money for transit when he decides to uproot himself again. Previous Occupations: He tried working as a lifeguard during high school but found it was too much time alone and a bad way to escape his thoughts. He worked for a while in a thrift store during college, which wasn’t much better, but he really needed the money. During a couple summers in college, he worked as a firespotter in a national park, this time trying to avoid people. That was a definite success. Physical Description: Henry is a pretty normal-looking guy. He’s a little tall, around 178 cm (5’10), but that’s about the only exceptional thing about him. His hair and eyes are both dark brown; a complexion that may have been on the light side of Middle-Eastern or Latino has been darkened by his recent time in the sun. His face and jaw are rather square; his eyes are sunk beneath a strong brow and beside a slightly-larger-than-normal nose. All in all, what he’s been born with manages to be cohesive enough to make him look pretty average. This hasn’t had much effect on his life, though. He generally keeps himself well-groomed. Normally, he shaves every other day, but that can change depending on his employer. He keeps his nails and body hair trimmed but existent. He usually gets his hair cut every two to three months; every time, it’s the same style: about three centimeters left on the top, two on the sides and back, and a part on his right side. As a result of his recent line of work, he is reasonably muscled, but there is little definition to his physique. Psychological Profile: Henry could be doing worse. If he didn’t have all his psychic shit to worry about, he would be reasonably social, perhaps a little on the quiet side — though certainly a good listener and with a dry and sarcastic sense of humor. He’d be reasonably confident with groups large and small, and he’d be on the patient side, but someone who trusts his instincts. Instead, he has to worry about letting his little psychic abilities come to the fore. There’s some great irony to what he experiences: he can perceive the emotions of those around him, and he finds they’re rather beautiful, to the point that he may be the most avid humanist on the plant; however, the greater the concentration of people around him, the more the perceptions fill him with a kind of deep, perhaps even physical pain and dread. Through very careful meditation, he has learned to control some of it, but he still feels pained by the presence of others. He tries to avoid large groups, but has a knack for forming very close friendships because of his affinity for empathy. A drive never to stay in one place — which has only grown stronger in recent years, as if the threat is growing nearer — forces him to abandon most people he comes to know. Background: Since his earliest memories, of being found on that doorstep in rural Ireland, unable to speak in any language but able to understand any of them, Henry has never felt safe. For a long time, he thought it was just something everyone dealt with: the fear, the rush of emotions whenever he was in a crowd, the strange feeling of something haunting him — something from before. As he grew older, he found it was just him, and the drive deep within him to always keep moving — to flee— grew stronger. Already having immigrated to America, his family moved several times to accommodate his feelings. It never really worked, but they at least managed to get him to finish school and go off to university. Not that he was bad at it — no matter how much he applied himself (maybe as a distraction from his other issues), he often longed to simply drop out and go far away. He transferred twice, majoring in astrophysics, as if he were trying to get off the planet. Recent History: That didn’t really matter now, though. After a bit of a breakdown during and after his commencement, he bought a plane ticket and started working on a farm with some homesteaders in the Midwest over that summer. He liked the distance from people and from the roaring in the back of his mind that had grown ever stronger. It came back, though, so he went and found somewhere new to work the next season. And the next one. And the next. In the two years he has been wandering parts of Europe, the Americas, and a few Pacific islands, he has tried to distance himself more and more, putting oceans and language barriers between him and civilization, but the dread deep in him returns, now largely independent of how populated his surroundings are. But he still keeps booking those tickets, because even a couple weeks’ respite is what he really wants.

Name: Michelle Darrens Gender: Female Age: 18 Lineage: Caucasian Zoanthrope - Wolf(?) Fate: 2 Relationship Status: Single Occupational Status: Employed as Remote Data Entry Professional for Markone Staffing. Previous Occupation: Waitress Physical Description: Michelle could have been, and in some ways still is, quite pretty. If things had gone differently she might even have been unusually so, but these days it's hard to tell. Standing just shy of 5'9'' and weighing in at around one hundred and thirty five pounds, she's a lean little whip of a girl on the cusp of being a young woman and would have done well for herself if things hadn't gone to hell. A year and a half ago she was all lips, hips and athletic physique, shooting for a varsity track, but that year and a half has been a doozie. These days she's the kind of girl you'd have a hard time sitting across the bus from and not staring at. Her dirty blond hair, long enough to hang down to the middle of her back, is shaved on one side in the style of the time, the visible ear lined with rings from top to bottom. Her lips--her favorite feature, if she was ever being honest about it--now sport a dandy trio of thin scars along the left hand side and she has a truly heinous ink-pen tattoo across her throat that nearly cost her voice a while back. Her eye are sleepless and dark, bloodshot, and have an unfortunate tendency to catch light like an animal's might. She is almost always seen wearing a massive black hoodie, second hand and touting some slightly indie hard rock band, unceremoniously over a pair of black tights. On very rare occasions, when she wants to feel pretty, she changes it up and wears a black sun dress instead. Never around other people, though--her wrists are a mess. Kids these days. Alternate Physical Description: There are monsters, and then there are real monsters. The kind you don't forget seeing, the ones that make you remember what it's like to be prey and wake you up at night, and when Michelle wolfs out she's very much the latter. At just shy of nine foot tall anthropomorphic terror, she's the big bad Wolf every Red Riding Hood wishes they could be when they grow up. Her normally wiry figure explodes into dense mammalian muscle, knotting and curling over a lupine frame equally at home lunging on four legs or stalking on two. Bristling with wiry grey fur, it's when you get to the business end of things that she really gets wicked. Michelle's got a wicked tongue at the best of times these days, but it doesn't hold a candle to her teeth. When she lets loose and the wolf takes over her fangs are as long as fingers, strong and interlocked to rip and tear. Her eyes are blood drunk gold saucers blotted with a swollen black pupil, shark-dark, and her fucked up finger-paws tear up ground and flesh with inches-long claws. All werewolves are scary, but most of them have nothing on Michelle. Psychological Profile: Michelle would very much like to be a normal, pretty girl. She would like very much to finish highschool, pay lip service to her parents and sneak out to parties with her friends and somehow manage passing grades. Theoretically she'd have liked a boyfriend, though not quite so much these days, and to sit around and smoke pot and do stupid teenager things. She would also very much like to not be a horrible psychotic cannibal-monster, but is pretty sure that what she would very much like means jack shit these days. Michelle is not a happy camper. She remembers the before and can't really imagine living with the after, so she doesn't. Imagine it, that is--she's tried suicide and it doesn't work out well for anyone. It hurts to think about things like why she feels so angry all the time, or why she putt-putts her way through her life, or what the point of any of this is, so she doesn't. She lives by doing, not by thinking--it's easy to be fearless when you don't care, and it's easy not to care when any semblance of a real life you might have had went down the toilet along with the bits of your step-dad's zyphoid process you couldn't keep down. Much as she tries to bottle it, ignore it or kill it, however, there is always that lingering, smoldering, boiling hate just ready to bubble back up. For herself, for the world, for anything and everything. So don't make her angry. You wouldn't like her when she's angry. Alternate Psychological Profile: At the best of times, Michelle is a tad mopey. Sometimes kind of cheerful, in a sad-puppy kind of way, but she's really just kidding you. Because when push comes to shove, when things get to be too much, she's not mopey. She's not sad. She's absolutely fucking furious. She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve any of this. She never wanted to cause trouble, make enemies, hurt anyone. She never asked to be a giant monster, but goddamn now that she is does it feel good to be one. When she transforms, it's all that impotent rage that a skinny little high school dropout buries under pussy emo bullshit can muster turned up to eleven and given claws the size of steak knives. The funny thing is that wolfing out is the only time she feels like she's in control. The bomb already went off, the worst case scenario already happened--she doesn't have to pretend to be something she's not anymore. She can admit that she's a savage fucking animal and go. To. Town. And that terrifies her. Vices: Michelle smokes cigarettes, marijuana and does heroin when she can get her hands on it. Background: Michelle's mother was a gold digger, plain and simple. She was pretty enough and smart enough to realize that the easiest path to a good life was to find someone going somewhere and get pregnant, which is exactly what she did. Nine months later out comes Michelle, as cute and squalling a baby as ever one did see and her mother promptly traded in the full time job of being pregnant for the full time job of looking for a better meal ticket. Michelle was on step-father three by the time she was going into high-school and liked to think she was relatively well adjusted for it. Yes, it left her with the odd sensation that men were both gullible and disposable, but there was also a sort of benign indifference to the men her mother snagged. They were always polite enough to her, relatively mild mannered and pretty benign. Her newest step father was the best yet, and even something resembling pleasant to her. He didn't mind when she snuck out late, made enough money accounting for some significant corporation or another to keep her and her mother well off in their respective social groups and wasn't bad to stay up late and watch shitty television with. And then she went to the wrong party and everything went to hell. Date rape happens. Its worse when it happens to you. Its worse still when it sends you to the ER. Its worse still when, even when all the tests come back clean and everyone is whispering how it's going to be alright, you know something is wrong. So if Michelle was angry and hurt and upset, she thought that was a pretty reasonable reaction. What was not a reasonable reaction was walking in on her step-father a few nights later watching some particularly inappropriate material of questionable moral character. Nothing illegal, just the usual male power trip bullshit, but having just been power tripped herself and not feeling very accommodating, well... It was all a blur from there. A messy, red, tear-stained blur that ended on the other side of the city spewing into a dumpster. Everything after that--the police, her mother, trying to go back to school and failing...miserably... Well. What's a girl to do. Recent History: Michelle fell in with a bad crowd. A very bad crowd, the kind that knew what she was and liked it and liked that she was too new to the scene to really resist. Wolves run in packs, and being low girl on the totem pole was not a party, but by the time she started getting the picture so were they. There are monsters and then there are monsters, and when she cut loose she was far and away the second of those. It wasn't long before ties were cut and she was alone again but, in her eyes, that was the best thing that could have happened to her. She wasn't fit for public consumption and she knew it, so she took herself out of it. It was hard. She was cities away from anyone she ever knew, left crashing on the couch of people who were half terrified of her, half stoned assholes, but it only takes one good friend to get up and running. His sister worked at a staffing company and got Michelle the kind of job she could do on her friend's laptop until she got on her feet. Determined to regain some semblance of a life if only so she could withdraw from the lives of others, she managed to do decently in spite of herself. She saved up enough money to get herself a shitty laptop and a shitty apartment on the shitty side of town and, well... There she was.

Character Name/Alias: Moris “Moe” Valberg
Gender: Male.
Age: 24
Lineage: Half Swedish, half Filipino. Human.
Fate: 3 Fate Points.
Relationship Status: Single.

Occupational Status: Moe is currently employed as a server at a casual restaurant. Though it's not exactly what he’d want to do, a decent pay and a lack of other opportunities have kept him working there.

Previous Occupations: Moe has had many previous jobs, never managing to keep one for long (despite his good education), primarily due to his lack of motivation and a general dissatisfaction with his life. After college, he worked first worked in IT, but eventually left after becoming frustrated with the job itself. Since then, he has worked a variety of jobs, including serving (at multiple different restaurants), tech support, and retail.

Physical Description: Moe is for the most part, fairly average looking; he doesn't stand out in a crowd. Moe has straight, lighter brown hair, that he wears cut relatively short, and he has dark brown eyes. Moe has a skin tone that is relatively light, though not very much so (though a largely interior-dwelling lifestyle has caused him to become somewhat pale). Moe is somewhat short height-wise, at around 5’7” (around 1.7 m), and, while not extremely underweight, is still quite a bit lighter than he should be for his height. Moe isn't athletic, and cigarette use has certainly taken its toll on his body and build; he isn't muscular, and he is quite lacking in strength and endurance.

Moe often appears to be weary or irritable at first glance; he isn't particularly attractive, though this may well be due to his relative laxity towards his appearance. On a day-to-day basis, Moe is often clean-shaven; as for clothing choice, Moe can normally be found in his work uniform—a white button-down dress shirt and black dress pants—even when he isn't actually at work. Otherwise, he usually values comfort over actual fashion, with a variety of fleeces, loose jeans, and assorted t-shirts; not particularly wanting to stand out, Moe often wears a various shades of blue, gray, and brown, though of course it all depends on his mood. Overall, though he does care about what others will think of him, Moe isn't especially vain and won't sacrifice much comfort for the sake of looking good.

Psychological Profile: Moe isn't exactly an exemplary human being. At first, Moe usually appears composed and quiet, but on the inside he’s very different. He is often quite judgmental of others, even considering his own personal troubles. He has an air of indifference around him, but this too is a facade, as in reality Moe is insecure and unsatisfied with his life and what he’s done with it. Though his ambition would logically lead him to aspire for greater, in reality Moe is quite lazy, and does not actively pursue larger things; in the end, he’s looking to the future with no plans on actually how to get there. Moe can also be irritable; he attempts to be calmer, but he does have a relatively short temper, though he's not particularly confrontational. These attributes are accentuated when he suffers from withdrawal.

Behind his composed persona, however, Moe carries a considerable amount of guilt, for all his mistakes, all of the time he's wasted, all of the times he should have done something but didn't. He's been a leech on his parents and his sister, hasn't really amounted to anything, and Moe carries that knowledge around with him—though of course, given his personality, of course he doesn't let that get to him too much. Rather than being concerned with what happened in the past, or even what's happening now, Moe's much more concerned with what's to come in the future.

When placed in a situation where he has to interact with others, Moe is quite different. Although he is normally quiet, he doesn't mind talking to others, and Moe does enjoy being around other people, regardless of however awkward he ends up being. Taking into consideration all of his judgment and preconceptions about people, Moe is also remarkably tactful. While normally reserved, Moe can be quite vocal and even outgoing given the right circumstances. Yes, Moe does have his fair share of good traits, really—he can be sympathetic, loyal, relatively sociable, and all that—but he’s still not exactly what one would call a good person.

Vices: Moe is a smoker. Although he’s tried to quit several times in the past, ultimately he hasn't been able to break the habit. Both a source and a result of the stress of his daily life, his smoking habit has affected him not only physically; it has been a large detriment to his financial situation, and has also somewhat affected his relationship with his family members.

Background: Moe's time growing up wasn't very difficult; had he been more motivated his whole life could have turned out quite a bit better. He was originally from the Midwest, with two different family backgrounds; his father was from a Swedish-American family long entrenched in the US, while his mother is from a more recently immigrated Filipino family. Coming from the upper middle class, Moe received a good education at a good school, never facing any particularly difficult challenges. The largest issue he ever faced growing up was not being able to fit in quite well enough, in his family or in his peers, given his family backgrounds, but still, he didn't have much to complain about. He did well in school, made some good friends, and ultimately attended college at the University of Minnesota, where he received a Bachelor's degree in Computer Science.

For his family and for himself, it seemed like Moe's future was set, but following college, a lack of passion forced him into a state of inactivity. Perhaps the signs for it were already there: Moe had started smoking halfway through college, succumbing to both peer and academic pressure. Though he was successful, he lacked the passion to really go far with his education, and so Moe's lack of productivity began. Moe also became alienated from his parents in his third year of college, who disapproved of his failure, and since then he hasn't exactly had the best relationship with them. The only of member he remained in contact with was his sister, four years older, whom he had long admired and loved. After Moe quit his last IT job, she found him a few jobs in retail, and so there he was.

Recent History: Estranged from his parents and not well-off financially, Moe lives in a small apartment in Clear Springs, Utah, where he's moved to be closer to his sister, who lives relatively nearby in Salt Lake City. Moe relies on her quite a bit, both financially and as a way to vent; though he's worried about becoming a leech, she's assured him that he won't be. He got his current serving job a few months back, after being unemployed for some amount of time, and has sustained himself since. Moe has made a few friends around town, though he's not very close to them and he doesn't regularly keep in touch with them nearly as often as he’d like to, given work.

For now, Moe is in a relatively stable position, although he still doesn't quite seem satisfied. He has his own fair share of personal luxuries—cigarettes, a decent computer, and a few good books. For now, though, he’d prefer to look ahead for better times, when he can hopefully fix things to his liking. Moe currently works at a casual family-type restaurant as a server, where he's acquired somewhat of a reputation among his fellow waitstaff for his constant smoke breaks and laziness, though customers seem to like him well enough.

Additional Information: Moe’s primary outlet for his emotions is music; he’s fairly indiscriminate when it comes to artists, bands, or genres, and he likes to attend whatever concerts he’s able to. Moe is also curious about new genres and enjoys listening to new music. Moe learned to play the French horn in high school, but he's sold his instrument for the money, and in any case, given the crowded nature of city life, he'd be unable to play anything.

Synopsis: Yet to be determined.

Name: "Mercer" (Andrew "Andy" Mercer) Gender: Male Age: 23 Lineage: Caucasian (Non-Specific/English) - Zoanthrope (Melanistic Leopard) Fate: 2 (Expenditures: 1 - Natural Zoanthrope (Melanistic Leopard)) Relationship Status: Single Occupational Status: Even in youth, Mercer always felt more alive at night - there hadn't been a reason prior, at least as far as he originally knew, but it served him well into his adulthood. Few, if any ever actually, want the life of a nighttime security guard at a shipping and storage facility for a major pharmaceutical company; the long, boring night hours wherein one doesn't see another human being lest they be a wayward vagrant or another guard who happens to actually be doing their job. For Mercer? There's nothing better than an excuse to wander the industrial area under the absolute cover of darkness and guise of "professional security". In his younger days - as a punk high school kid - Mercer certainly wasn't "working", but he was; that one kid who would "buy" (really steal) liquor or cigarettes for other degenerates at a price. From there, Mercer hasn't proven to be on any more of the right side of the law. Having dabbled in selling and transporting various illicit goods, but largely abstaining as of recently due to his new, more steady and legal occupation; one that keeps him out of previous troubles and into new ones. Physical Description: Mercer's combination of dark hair, intense blue eyes and inexplicable athleticism make him a fairly attractive young man - if anyone ever got to actually see him in the day time. More pale than he should be, a distinct lack of sunlight playing a role, he stands taller than a fair amount of his peers at just a few inches over six feet, but certainly nothing "freakish"; the other side of him certainly accomplishes that role to great ends. Instead, he keeps himself well trimmed, in part by choice as he has a taste for personal hygiene and cleanliness, but as well as his occupation requiring him to at least appear like a professional. That said, even after a close shave his face always seems a shade darker from an always present shadow of facial hair. If Mercer had the option he wouldn't change his choice of closely cut grooming or smooth shaven face; its a point of pride to have nearly ebony hair that hasn't even the slightest signs of fading with added age. With regard to clothing? For someone who cares as much as they do physically about themselves, Mercer shows no sign of style - let alone regard for it. Functional to a fault, Mercer owns at most a few sets of jeans or cargo shorts and shirts, lamenting on occasion that he no longer has as many as he did once upon a time; some having met an untimely end from a sudden, prolonged change of anatomy. Otherwise, his wardrobe consists of what were sneakers, some boots, and his issued work uniforms - the latter he actually maintains with a sense of decency. Most of his free time Mercer spends in the last pair of good shoes, cargo pants, and a simple shirt, maybe sporting a flannel if the weather proves as cold as snowing. Alternate Physical Description: When its time for a change, it is time for a change; from one form into another, it isn't a smooth, quick process. It's elaborate and time consuming, beyond a doubt, because everything has to find a new place, change in size, scale and density, and for a lot of it, completely alter its initial shape. Thus when Mercer changes, he erupts into rapidly growing thick pelt of pitch-black fur - his body twists and contorts, turning feet into paws, swelling with muscle and mass - as he becomes an increasingly large feline-esque form; he gains nearly two feet in height and hundreds of pounds in purely muscular weight. From muzzle to tail, he is a sleek pantherine monstrosity - with bright, watchful golden eyes - armed quite literally to the teeth and equally fierce in claw with jet black, curved talons sported from each digit, Mercer is through and through a genuine werepanther; a rare thing, just as all other ailuranthropes prove to be. To an observer, one might say the process is painful. They are entirely right in this notion. Mercer wouldn't disagree, almost no zoanthrope would, because the transformation's process is just as temporarily crippling and long as one can imagine. But to him? The ability to suffer through a few brief moments of immobilizing, mind-numbing pain is worth it all for the intense rush and freedom to do... well, most anything? Psychological Profile: There's little division between Mercer and the cat - it was always there, ever present, always lurking. It had been waiting until he had matured fully for it to make itself known, but it didn't come as some horrifying surprise - Mercer wasn't afflicted, the experience itself was not as psychologically altering as it could have been; some elements of his person were conditioned on a subconscious level. Needless to say, it certainly had its impact; instead of the force of a sledgehammer on the fine china of life, it was more just a hammer. Having been the only child and raised almost exclusively by his father, Mercer certainly didn't have a normal set of roots to begin with, but when things got strange, he didn't panic; in fact, he got curious. For a person as curious and intrigued as Mercer, that proved dangerous as it let the cat out of the bag. One day he's just a punk, nobody kid who pushes cigarettes, alcohol and the occasional smuggled substance while only showing up to classes to do so, but that night he explodes into a violent storm of fur and fury. The so called "dream" was a lot more real - not only did he take down the would-be collectors, he took out anything in sight for a ways, leaving a path of carnage that the police left unattributed; a mystery that didn't have an obvious solution, as big cats weren't exactly known to stalk the rundown suburbs of city outskirts. Mercer, who was foolishly brave and angst filled to begin with, had even more conviction to be a reckless moron when he realized that all his previous "luck" was pretty readily explained by being an inhuman monster. Now he was a cocky, confident, foolishly brave, angsty soul with the ability to back it up if he wished it... and he did. Having come more to realistic terms now, Mercer still often falls prey to his personal dispositions despite this; not knowing is worse than knowing for him, he knows what he knows better than anyone else, no one can do whatever he sets himself to do better, and the world is still out to get him. Vices: The vices of Mercer aren't limited to just one poor choice; he's of the sort that's willing to try most anything at least once. The benefit is that he's either outright immune to their effects, or they're so dampened by his unnatural resiliency that there's nearly no harm. The downside? He's foolish enough to not understand the consequence of said choices - hence his previous run ins with unsavory characters, some of whom still are looking for him. Background: Life for Andrew Mercer began as normal as one could initially glean, showing no particular leanings one way or another, but the truth couldn't be any further removed. It started, more strangely, when his mother seemingly vanished from her happy marriage and housewife life when Andrew was only six; no indication, no warning, she simply up and left behind all there was in the family life and disappeared to parts unknown with not even a trace. Mercer, remembering her even to this day, knew her as a loving, tender mother with a fierce streak in her - she was protective, even obsessive over him to the point she never allowed her husband much interaction his only son. Looking back, this all made perfect sense in context to Mercer; she, just as he now, was very much the cat, and his father was very much just a person. The poor bastard - unaware the woman he dedicated his life too was a bloodthirsty inhuman beast who would, in time after having her child and making him nothing more than a mere sire, move on again to keep hunting - didn't take it well. The "family", or what remained of it, declined sharply, with Mercer's father finding work in retail as a salesman for a local vacuum cleaner distributor - hardly anything worthy of aspiration. Not to say Thomas Mercer didn't do his best for his son with what he had, but he certainly was a broken man; his heart shattered when his formerly perceived perfect world collapsed. Andrew on the other hand never knew better until he discovered the fact his blood was a bit more wild than it should be. For his youth after his mother's disappearance he just went mostly unsupervised, left to his own devices. This in turn meant getting involved in all the wrong places until a particular twist of fate made things much, much clearer. All it took was one brightly lit full moon in an alley way behind a derelict gas station, confronted by two not so friendly acquaintances who wanted their money that Mercer didn't have. It got hostile - then it got bloody. It didn't stop there either... not for a while. Its what made the monster in him monstrous; it killed relentlessly until it grew bored. Recent History: While in recent times Mercer has gotten ahold of the cat - enough so that its a familiar friend, even if it isn't necessarily one he can completely control - he still struggles with keeping its predatory nature in check. The werepanther in him wants to hunt, not for food but for want of a kill; the urge to find amusement and thrill in the hunt itself. This element is what divides the werecat from the werewolf, as most are killing machines just for the fact they want to be - there's no hunger involved, just the excitement of the effort. Thus has spurred his recent employment as a night guard; no more sleepless nights roaming the densely populated areas where his secret could be so easily found out - no more mauling neighboring dogs because there's nothing else the cat in him can find predatory amusement in. Now he has a purpose, to creep along unseen and where he can, strike out at things that won't exactly be... missed. It has become a game for Mercer, to see how he can cling to the darkness and shadow, avoiding sight and detection, moving with grace and agility; there is plenty of video evidence of those failings certainly, but given his current employment? Those all disappear with little trace.

The following character profiles are approved for There Are No Heroes: Henry Grimwald Moore (Human Psychic) @orichalk Michelle Darrens (Human Lycanthrope) @Howler Moris "Moe" Valberg (Human) @Zashes Andrew Mercer (Human Ailuranthrope) @The Harbinger of Ferocity If you are a participant, please await the initial post in the main topic before posting on your own.