panos
New Member
Posts: 3
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Post by panos on Nov 22, 2012 17:26:29 GMT -6
 | NAME: | Algernon Rivers | | DEED NAME: | <insert> | AUSPICE: | Ahroun | BREED: | Homid | | CHRONICLE: | Hunters Hunted | TRIBE: | Get of Fenris | CONCEPT: | Save me from the fall |
| ATTRIBUTES | | | PHYSICAL | | SOCIAL | | MENTAL | | | STRENGTH: | 3 | CHARISMA: | 3 | PERCEPTION: | 2 | | DEXTERITY: | 4 | MANIPULATION: | 2 | INTELLIGENCE: | 2 | | STAMINA: | 4 | APPEARANCE: | 3 | WITS: | 2 |
| ABILITIES | | | ABILITIES | | SKILLS | | KNOWLEDGES | | | ALERTNESS: | 1 | ANIMAL KEN: | 1 | COMPUTER: | 1 | | ATHLETICS: | 2 | CRAFTS: | 0 | ENIGMAS: | 1 | | BRAWL: | 2 | DRIVE: | 0 | INVESTIGATION: | 1 | | DODGE: | 3 | ETIQUETTE: | 0 | LAW: | 0 | | EMPATHY: | 1 | FIREARMS: | 1 | LINGUISTICS: | 0 | | EXPRESSION: | 0 | LEADERSHIP: | 0 | MEDICINE: | 2 | | INTIMIDATION: | 0 | MELEE: | 3 | OCCULT: | 0 | | PRIMAL-URGE: | 0 | PERFORMANCE: | 0 | POLITICS: | 0 | | STREETWISE: | 2 | STEALTH: | 2 | RITUALS: | 0 | | SUBTERFUGE: | 2 | SURVIVAL: | 2 | SCIENCE: | 0 |
| MERITS | | Immune to Wyrm Emanations 5 | | Inoffensive to animals 1 |
| FLAWS | | Vengence 2 | | Notoriety 3 |
| BACKGROUNDS | | Fetish 3 | | Resources 1 | | Rites 1 |
| GIFTS | | Spur Claws | | Resist Pain | | Persuasion |
| RITES: |
Rite of Binding (1)
Rite of Questing Stone(1)
Rite of Talisman Dedication(1)
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| RENOWN | | TRAITS | | | GLORY | 2 | RAGE | 8 | | HONOR | 1 | GNOSIS | 3 | | CUNNING | 0 | WILLPOWER | 6 |
| Freebie Points Use | | Stamina 4 - 5 freebies | | Rage 6,7,8 - 3 freebies | | Willpower 4,5,6 - 3 freebies | | Gnosis 2,3 - 4 freebies | | None |
| GEAR | | 1 x Fang Dagger | | 1 x Kevlar Vest | | 1 x Biker Leathers | | 1 x Old car | | 1 x Cellphone |
| AGE: | 21 | HEIGHT: | 6'0" | WEIGHT: | 210 lbs | | EYE COLOR: | Blue | HAIR COLOR: | Black | BIRTH MARKS: | None | | TATTOOS: | None | SCARS: | Across eye |
| DESCRIPTION: | Standing at 6ft high, with the body of a bricklayer, pale blue eyes - a constant stubble that just doesnt want to go away, and short black hair. He's usually glad in city clothes, jeans, jackets, trenchcoats. The man emits a natural, subliminal menace that shadows over his young age. |
| BACKGROUND: |
Algernon was born in Brooklyn, the third boy of a british immigrant family, a trend that spiked up quiet a lot before the second millemium kicked in. His family was poor, and he was thrown at a costruction job at the age of fourteen. He was already starting to miss classes, most of his friends were already on drugs, or at the very least sniffing on construction fluids, and he wasnt that far away either. It didnt really matter did it? He d do this job for the rest of his life.
His grades were not all so bad before he started skipping classes, teachers were contacting his parents and asking questions, but Al just wanted to run away. The life of a rockstar, even when one is not one, always held a certain appeal. Drugs lead to an even greater lack of money, which lead to petty theft. He wasnt really built to do that, though. Tall, bulky and physically fit, it was like asking a hippo to juggle.
He was seventeen when everything changed, he still recall the events hazily - he remembers the alley, and the neon sign caught in the blades - he remembers that sickening plunging sound, over and over again. He doesnt remember any faces, there were no faces when it was all over. He remember heading to the only natural habitat his instinct recognized, water. Carried down by the drift, he was washed asshore near staten island. That's where he was found too. He didnt have much steam in him to resist when he saw the forms approach, he was bound and blindfolded, shoved into the back of a van.
He woke up in a ..forest? There was a clearing, tall figures gathered around a fire. They all look like they had seen better days...even the women had scars on their faces. Was this some weird fucked up cult? The answer soon turned out to be yes. A newspaper was crammed into his hand, on the page where his murders were reported in gorey detail.
He didnt understand why, or how. He had murdered before, but that time was for a reason...this...so many people dead. The grey-haired once smiled, and told him he is a predator of predators. Then he changed, into this big furry machine of war.
Somehow Al did not feel scared. He was wary, for sure. This was by far the biggest display of weirdness and might in one single family package. But he knew this. Somewhere inside him, he knew they were kin - and the brain followed suit, and it all clicked. The murders. He did them. He was one of those things. Fenrir, they called themselves. Some Norse ancestry bullcrap.
He was taught things, he went through all the rites. He was given food and shelter, then he was taught how to hunt. He learned the wolf and the man, and that thing right in between. But most importantly, the thing that defined his life once again was the /reason/ he was chosen, and trained. He knew the city, he was a childe of the city. He was to be sent there once more, but this time, with a mission.
Every and any addiction he ever had was drilled and pounded out of him. His body was broken all over the place. These wolves practised for war, not for self defence. They bled each other and cut each other with knives. They tought him to kill like he was born to do it, and they told him who, and why too. And once he was in the city again, sitting in that hotel room, looking over the reports infront of him - he knew. This was his new road.
The Hand of Tyr did not believe in forgiveness. They did not believe Humanity could be saved, yet they recognised it as a threat that was tactically unassailable. What they could do, is dig their knives deep in the body of the world, and cut out the cancer. The spreaders of corruptions, the humans who served the enemy. For three years, Al wracked up an expert's body count. Pushers were found shot in dumpsters, pimps were found, their life beaten out of them. He gave away no sign of the wolf, for this was enemy territory.
But it got to him, the routine. With every passing day, whatever was human inside him slowly disappeared, and whatever was wolf inside him, slowly corroded. The first murder for profit, brought forth a desire to change. A desire to learn ways to control the urge. And he knew he could not go back. He had to go somewhere else. |
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Post by Jay Karth on Nov 22, 2012 17:31:24 GMT -6
Approved For play
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Post by Jay Karth on Dec 19, 2012 19:40:41 GMT -6
MIA. Player has been missing from channel for an extended period of time.
IC the character has not been seen and is presumed to have moved on from the Sept to greener pastures.
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