@Rockette Look for images of places you think your character will be in the next post, stare at it for a good handful of minutes while thinking what might happen. This may lead to inspiration.
Okay here we are. Still need to find picture.Name/Nicknames:
Atticus Carver
Race:
Human
Age:
28
Appearance:
Atticus was in the past referred to as a bit of a ‘pretty boy’, his features being defined with a strong jaw, carefree smile and piercing green eyes that could melt the heart of anyone. His mahogany coloured hair was short and messy and was hardly maintained but always seemingly perfect, adding further to his charming appearance. Today he is almost unrecognisable when compared to his former self.
His once carefree expression and generous smiles are now all but strangers to his features which are now more of a stoic shadow of what they once were. His hair, whilst still unmaintained is now streaked generously with flecks of grey and even white showing that the years have not been kind to him. When combined with his often unshaven appearance this leads him to be seen in a slightly more rugged and sinister light. His eyes are somewhat dulled and now gleam with only a predatory hint of the darkness that lies within him just beyond the surface.
That being said Atticus is far from having lost his looks and despite his somewhat worn appearance he could still easily considered handsome and dashing if he makes the effort to present himself. He dresses himself however the occasion calls for, smart or casual it matters not to him. To him how he chooses to appear is simply a tool to portray whatever impression he wants to on those around him and nothing more.
Physically Atticus appears unremarkable, on first glance not seeming to be under or overweight to any particular degree. In truth his body is lithe and muscular, lacking any excess fat or tissue caused by his somewhat ‘spartan’ lifestyle. It could be said that he is tall, but again not excessively so.
Personality:
Like his appearance, the personality of Atticus seems to change to best suit his situation and needs. A chatty neighbour, a gentle and caring friend, an indifferent stranger seemingly going about their own business, these are just a few of the guises that Atticus regularly falls into. To him it is easy to flow and ebb his mannerisms and demeanour to whatever would be expected of him, none seeing his true personally shine through until it is far too late.
In truth Atticus is cold, unforgiving and dismissive. Quick to judge others and mark them off as useless and unworthy of life like the vast majority of the beings that exist and inhabit the world around him. He is somewhat detached from the realities of the world and cares for little other than his own interests and desires, which are as warped and distorted as the man’s broken mind. He lives for misery and pain, or rather lives to inflict these onto those who he targets for such treatment.
Atticus of course shows his true self to no one, a master at controlling his emotions and masking his distaste for the lives of others easily. He considers himself superior to most and generally considers the other races to be little more than a curse or illness inflicted upon the undeserving or foolish.
Bio:
Atticus Carver was born to a wealthy and high-class couple, his father the director of several companies and his mother a lawyer for a global corporation. As such his life was very different from those who are forced to live and fight for everything they have. His upbringing was relatively speaking uneventful and he became a happy, well rounded young adult who was very articulate and caring, though he did have something of a restless side to him. He also had a thirst for knowledge and studied a great deal of subjects including art, medicine and history amongst other things at several of the world’s leading universities and academies. It was during this time that he met a young and beautiful woman who he became completely and totally infatuated with, the pair falling in love and marrying within a year. Her name was Kitiara de Folie and she brought to Atticus a feeling of completion and serenity, it was if they were two parts of one whole finally brought together as always intended.
His father died of sudden heart attack when he was 21 his death having quite the impact on the young man who was distraught over the loss. Two years later his mother followed suit and died suddenly after being diagnosed with cancer only a week earlier.
The sudden losses were both difficult for him to face and if it were not for the support and love of his wife Kitiara he surely would have spiralled out of control. With the wealth that was left to them the pair had the world at their feet and had oh so many plans together. But of course the world had other plans in mind for the young couple and they only had another seven blissful months together before tragedy struck.
The pair attended a charity ball event on the east coast, a city far too close to the monstrous beast that is Santa Somabra – the cities dark tendrils outstretching and corrupting everything it touched. The event was targeted by a criminal enterprise who realised that there would be many wealthy individuals to both threaten and kidnap, with too much money to be made. The event itself however was more well protected than they realised, a brutal and panicked shootout occurring filling the ballroom with screams, gunfire and blood.
It was all over in the blink of an eye. Atticus only remembers flashes from that evening, the look of Kitiara’s lifeless face gazing back at him as he held her, the shots ringing through the air as a chorus of panicked screams echoed. Atticus himself was also shot, a mostly superficial wound that grazed his neck only millimetres away from ending his life in an instant.
Atticus plummeted into a pit of depression and misery, he stopped talking, eating or doing anything else, unable to tear his thoughts away from the events that had occurred. Atticus threw his fortune into the occult, seeking any way to return his love to the mortal realm no matter the cost. Finally able to function once more this became more than an obsession for him. It was during this time that Atticus killed for the first time, a sacrifice required by a supposedly dark and powerful deity. He slaughtered a young beautiful woman with no hesitation and no remorse, before later killing the ‘druid’ after it had become clear that the ritual had failed to bring back his love as promised. He continued in this fashion for weeks, his body count starting to grow as he killed those who failed to bring his wife back to him along with any sacrifices that were required or anyone who got in his way.
After some time it became clear that what he hoped to achieve was impossible despite his every effort. As a result he soon looked to end his life and join her in whatever afterlife there may be, once more sinking into a deep depression. With the barrel of a gun pressed to his temple Atticus took what he intended to be his final breath, however he was stopped by a voice that he instantly recognised. Kitiara was suddenly sat beside him, her face unmarked by the bloody smears that plagued his nightmares and her eyes gazing once more into his.
That day she came back to him, real or not it didn’t matter to Atticus. To him she was as real as the world around him, he could see her, hear her and feel her touch once more and that was all he wanted – whether others could or not he did not care. Several conversations with his wife later his purpose became clear once more. She wanted him to go to Santa Somabra and continue his ‘work’ there, Kitiara apparently feeling that each and every citizen of the foul place needed to be judged and punished appropriately. Atticus needed very little convincing, selling what remained of his possessions and travelling to the city. He has spent the last several months in the city moving from hotel to hotel as he searched for the perfect location to carry out his trade. Unfortunately for the residents of Santa Somabra he has found what he was looking for.
Other:
Atticus is of course insane, if not in a sophisticated kind of way. His wife is of course long dead, the woman he sees being nothing more than a very convincing figment of his mind. He knows others cannot see or hear her and as such only interacts and speaks with her when alone (or when with someone who will soon be in no position to tell anybody anything).
Atticus uses any weapon or method to his killings that fits the time and situation, having no such ‘pattern’ or set modus operandi that has thus far developed. His greatest tool is his mind and his ability to behave in a totally ‘normal’ way.
Name: Hayley Varron
Alias: Wolfsbane
Age: 21
Height: 5ft 8 inches
Weapons: A sleek, bone, recurve bow; different variations of arrow; small daggers for climbing and attack; vampiric fangs.
Clothing: Long leggins, small crop top, with small converse shoes.
Appearance: Long straight hair that falls to her shoulders like a waterfall of molten gold. Deep dark crimson eyes, a full face with a curved nose and full lips. An athletic body toned from hours of hard training over her youth.
Bio: As a child Hayley grew up in the deep edge of the world. Her father was a hunter and she grew up learning how to hunt with her father. Late at night everyday she would go up to the roof tops and practise free running on the roof tops. But one fateful day her father went hunting on his own to get some food when he came across the hunters and got ripped into small pieces and died. Haley was distraught and wanted her revenge on the hunters.
@Onegymbadger Might I just point out that we have a very similar member whose name is exactly like yours? That's quite the mystery indeed.
Still nonetheless if you are truly new here, I'd like to say 'Welcome'!. I'm glad Ricardo Vigil isn't going to be alone in his despising those hunters, as they say - misery lves company.
Also I'm still in the process of writing out the first post for Atticus. Once that is done I'll be looking to incorporate him with some other characters/story somehow.
to her supernatural charm tries to fight off the urge to be clam, happy, and enchanted with her.
Yes?
<Snipped quote by potatochipgolem>
that this women who I could see completely except for her face,
it is with great alacrity I recall reaching out, in my dream, to squeeze her butt,
and then I proceeded to squish her butt. That was a nice dream.
<Snipped quote by potatochipgolem>
Yas.
While we wait for the rp to continue, let me tell you all a dream I had just recently.
I dreamed that there was a man with no legs riding a horse with three legs into a mall surrounded by an entourage of some sort, whilst me, my sister, dad, and my parrot sat on the sideline in our SUV watching them go by.
I also had a dream about being in this huge ass theater with a bunch of grown up Disney Princesses. And the girl I had a major crush on this semester had her hair blonde (but I found out she was actually brunette, because of her roots and what not) and I dreamed that this blonde women who I could see completely except for her face, but who I most definitely assumed to be the girl woman I liked because her hair looked just like it did that day when we last talked, she was sitting there on one of the theater chairs next to me. And we got all cuddled up together. And now, I tend to have lucid dream, and it is with great alacrity I recall reaching out, in my dream, to squeeze her butt, only for the voice in my head to say "you have to ask first, dummy." So I asked, she laughed and said why'd you ask, and then I proceeded to squish her butt. That was a nice dream.
I also had a dream about going to the Bahamas and not being able to find a bathroom.
And that's how my summer vacation's been so far. I need to find a job is what I need...
I would not go touching the butts of faceless women for all the cuddles in the world.
I had a dream where a group of friends and I went to explore what I presume was supposed to be Tolkien's house (appeared in my mind as this great big stately manor surrounded by trees, at the top of a large hill), when someone said something a long the lines of "be warned; his inspiration came from dark places" and then I spotted this big fuck-off slender man looking thing made of shadows from in-between some trees. The shadow thing came screeching towards us and we started trying to throw things at it to get it to go away (I didn;t ask if I could touch its butt, although perhaps all it wanted was some cuddles) and then I woke up.
<Snipped quote by potatochipgolem>
But what if you knew, behind that dead waterfall of black hair, lay a beautiful lady, waiting for the right person to squeeze her butt. And that right person was you.
You'll be pleased to know discussing this affected me greatly last night. I went to bed and had another dream about her, except this time I could expressly see her face, and I squeezed her butt again. Good times, good times.
<Snipped quote by Kingfisher>
Omg, that's horrible. Well, I mean, if that was me, I would have been really excited about the "Tolkein's house" part. Urgh...Slender man...He was so scary when he first started getting popular....now both me and my sister are thoroughly desensitized to it. What scares the shit out of me now is child-possessed animatronics.