Post by wayne on Aug 3, 2012 0:09:41 GMT -5
[/li][li]~My Name is Amanda
Wayne Thomas Lister
PB: Alexis Denisof
[/li][li]~I am 20 years old.
[/li][li]~I found the site through Gabe
[/li][li]~If you wish to talk to me, the best way to reach me is through Skype: wolfylavalentine, or Email: kapuwolves@hotmail.com
[/li][li]~I have been role playing for 6 years, and I’m quite literate.
• • • • • • • • •
~*Full Name: Wayne Lister
~*Alias: Known only as Wayne Thomas
~*Age: 28
~*Race: Hunter
~*Gender: Male
*Appearance:
He is neither a broad-shouldered man nor a skinny fellow – he has never been called paunchy or slight; he merely sustains a well-balanced, lithely muscled upper body. His legs are also well maintained from his morning cardio runs through the park and up his city block.
Wayne covers himself in very fine, clean clothes, but nothing too flashy as to draw attention to himself. His healthy financial lifestyle forces him into the occasional tux, while his work attire is almost always a tailored suit and tie, but catch him at home and it's common to glimpse him in a pair of old denim jeans or shorts. While he's hunting, Wayne will wear his loose slacks that make running easier and a long black duster to keep his odd weaponry concealed from the public eye.
He has rich blue eyes and shortly cropped brown hair that folds itself into acceptable form with little or no help at all from any products or combs. The facial hair around his mouth and jaw is always kept tripped close to the skin, but a little five or six o'clock shadow never hurt a wealthy man's appearance.
~*Personality:
Not everyone can be a omnipotent ladies' man every minute of his life, but Wayne does possess a delicate charm that makes him lucky in the female department. He likes to keep himself immersed in high society when he isn't sifting through the dregs with other hunters, and hardly differentiates between his responsibilities as the wealthy man and that of the killer.
Wayne has the fiery temper his family line is known to wield, but when he's not working as a killer he is very good at keeping it contained (especially in public). He was taught to have patience until your prey (or enemy) backs itself into a private corner, so that you might sweep in to clean up the kill with no witnesses the wiser. Keeping his family name clear is very important, which is why on the streets he is only known as Wayne, Thomas being his last name instead of his God-given middle.
He makes friends very easily with casual conversations and free drinks, but he rarely stays for the second round unless he thinks he can strike up a future business deal or a lay. Friday and Saturday nights are reserved for hunting – he has decided over the years that those are the times when lycan and vampire alike are most active – but he always reserves Sundays to sport a broad smile and a suit for his parents in their local church outside the city.
~*History:
Wayne Thomas Lister is what high society has and will always refer to as: old money. Everyone from his parents dating back to his great-great grandparents lived in the lap of luxury, where a young man never goes hungry and a young lady is always supported by her dowry. He and his younger sister Abigail were the only two children to be born to this generation of Listers, and since he was very young the idea of producing an heir for the small family fortune was drilled deep into his brain
.
Abigail was always more free with her spirit and her tongue around their parents, completely unafraid and unaware of the dangers she could put herself in should she severely slight their father. Two tattoos, one pregnancy scare and a motorcycle accident later, the 17-year old Abby was on her own without a cent of inheritance, and Wayne took it upon himself to look after her when her parents would turn her away. He did this for over a year, rummaging through shady slum houses and old homeless sheds to find his beloved little sis, only to find her knee-deep in drug or romance troubles. Wayne's Lister temper got the better of him after that first year, and he left her in the city to her own affairs, moving himself back into the outskirt's high life.
News of her violent death struck Wayne the very hardest. She was found bloody behind a tall office building in the heart of the city, beaten with her skin shredded so badly her face was hardly recognizable. City police were sure there was more than gang violence or drug-related murder involved; Wayne discovered later the details withheld from the press: missing organs, multiple bite and nail marks – that led police to suspect some sort of twisted fuck had murdered his only baby sister.
Wayne became obsessed, scouring the streets with flyers and questions that no one would answer to an attractive man in a nice suit – shady business is for shady folks, and the Lister name was shrouded in fear and fame. So, driven almost mad by impossible questions and loneliness, after he turned 24 and received his inheritance, he moved deep into the city, farther from home but closer to the answers he sought.
It was just a few weeks into his living downtown when he met up with two heavily armed Hunters at a bar. They drank too much scotch, bought him rounds on their tab, and ate very little peanuts while they boasted to Wayne and a few others about how they'd saved the Big Apple, the country and the whole planet many times over. Loving a good shit-faced story but more so loving the promise of more scotch, he went back to their complex, where Wayne received the first supernatural shock of his life.
A very strong lycan, seeking bloody revenge for his fallen brethren, stood fully transformed in the middle of the tiny one-bedroom apartment, eyes and canines gleaming as the three men stumbled through the front door. (see RP example for fight scene)
After seeing firsthand the power of a single paw-swipe of the lycan, and learning even more troubling stories of darker things that go bump in the night, Wayne knew in his heart he'd found his sister's murderers – not some crazed human psycho, but a furious and hungry flesh-eater that the city police would have never thought to take in for questioning. Refusing to just accept the new world the way it was, he decided to stay in the city he hated and destroy the monsters responsible for making his life a living hell.
And the rest, as they say, was history.
~*RP Sample:
Wayne blinked through a fuzzy haze of alcohol-induced comatose, rubbing his left eye twice to see if the wolf-like creature was merely a hallucination. Unfortunately for him and the inebriated hunter in front of him, it was all too real.
The creature’s first strike was a fantastic swipe of its first three claws across the closest hunter, Ethan’s face. Wayne could feel the vibrations of its impact in his own chest, and his ears rung with a deafening clarity as the lycan snarled in anger. Time slowed in his mind as he watched Ethan’s body crumple and fall to the dirty apartment floor as if he’d been shot, his previously attractive face divided into three bloody sections. A bullet clip fell from his belt and sprayed its tiny, silver contents over the floor in front of the beast that’d slayed its master. Beast or not, the lycan recoiled at the appearance of silver, and that gave the second hunter enough time to play catch-up. Wayne watched him flick both ends of his long coat backwards and retrieve two semi-automatic pistols from either holster on his hips.
Alexx showered the tall, muscled beast down with every glittery bullet that popped into the chamber, growling in the heat of the moment and moving so swiftly that Wayne was knocked back a few steps and barely held his footing. Crouching low to the ground with his hand over his ringing ears, he felt every trickle of alcohol evaporate from him, and felt fear and adrenaline invade his veins. Though he later hated to admit to himself what events happened next, his actions would always haunt him later, usually in the middle of a fire-fight.
The lycan flinched back and roared with every piercing metal bullet, charging around the room to try and find a hole in Alexx’s defense. Its eyes flashed desperately around the room, finding no shelter from the hunter’s assault, before they landed on Wayne. Even as a bullet tore a quarter-sized hole straight through its left cheek, the creature grinned widely with the young entrepreneur in its gaze, and launched itself towards him with outstretched talons. ‘This is the way I die’, he had the chance to think, ‘dear Abby, I’ve failed you.’
An intelligent lycan does not get to be as old and powerful as this creature was by lacking knowledge of strategic warfare. The human soldier would not fire upon his own company just as this hunter would not shoot down Wayne, so it landed in crouch just behind the frightened Lister just long enough to make Alexx ceasefire, before leaping again to clamp its jaws around his last muttered scream.
It took Wayne several moments to realize he wasn’t monster-chow. His head hurt from screwing his eyes so tight, and his throat burned from the scream he hadn’t noticed he was emitting. When the apartment fell silent and all he could hear was the rise and fall of the beast breathing, he cracked open his eyes and quietly whimpered under his breath. The apartment wall behind where Alexx had been standing had been spray-painted a malevolent red, the young hunter’s blood dripping from the light switch, ceiling and dome light. The corpse itself was so soaked in his blood that it looked black or maybe purple, the Wayne of present-time could never specifically recall.
Before he could think of making a break for the door, Wayne was on his back, looking down the muzzle of the lycan creature, its intelligent eyes fixing him to his position on the floor. One paw with very long serrated claws pushed hard on his chest, but not enough to tear or maim his skin. The man’s awe and alarm were tangible, mixing in the air with the heady scent of beast. And then, going against every law of science and physics that he’d been taught in that fancy northeastern college, the wolf-like creature began to morph into something less terrifying. Its long snout began to recede into its face, swelling and contorting while the beast howled in pain before it took on a most human-like figure. First it had a nose, and then its skin became clean and hairless around his eyes. The outstretched paw pinning him to the tile floor was suddenly a bare arm, and just like that, a middle-aged naked man was poised above him in the same aggressive crouch.
The eyes stayed the same. Whenever Wayne watches a lycan go through its painful metamorphosis from man to beast now, that is what disturbed him the most; a brilliant pair of blue-green eyes studying him from just a few inches away. Too shocked to speak and far too scared to move, Wayne Lister watched the human-creature rise to its full height of 6’7” and sneer at him, as if disgusted.
“You’re no fucking hunter,” it growled, his voice still as deep and ominous as the creature’s rumble. “You’re hardly enough human to pick my teeth with.” He rolled his eyes, surveying the coward still clutching his ears with both hands. “Do me a solid and fucking stay down.” With a longing glance toward the bodies of Wayne’s dead drinking buddies, the man grabbed a thick overcoat from Ethan’s lanky coat-rack and left Wayne’s life just as suddenly and boldly as he’d entered it.
The creature’s first strike was a fantastic swipe of its first three claws across the closest hunter, Ethan’s face. Wayne could feel the vibrations of its impact in his own chest, and his ears rung with a deafening clarity as the lycan snarled in anger. Time slowed in his mind as he watched Ethan’s body crumple and fall to the dirty apartment floor as if he’d been shot, his previously attractive face divided into three bloody sections. A bullet clip fell from his belt and sprayed its tiny, silver contents over the floor in front of the beast that’d slayed its master. Beast or not, the lycan recoiled at the appearance of silver, and that gave the second hunter enough time to play catch-up. Wayne watched him flick both ends of his long coat backwards and retrieve two semi-automatic pistols from either holster on his hips.
Alexx showered the tall, muscled beast down with every glittery bullet that popped into the chamber, growling in the heat of the moment and moving so swiftly that Wayne was knocked back a few steps and barely held his footing. Crouching low to the ground with his hand over his ringing ears, he felt every trickle of alcohol evaporate from him, and felt fear and adrenaline invade his veins. Though he later hated to admit to himself what events happened next, his actions would always haunt him later, usually in the middle of a fire-fight.
The lycan flinched back and roared with every piercing metal bullet, charging around the room to try and find a hole in Alexx’s defense. Its eyes flashed desperately around the room, finding no shelter from the hunter’s assault, before they landed on Wayne. Even as a bullet tore a quarter-sized hole straight through its left cheek, the creature grinned widely with the young entrepreneur in its gaze, and launched itself towards him with outstretched talons. ‘This is the way I die’, he had the chance to think, ‘dear Abby, I’ve failed you.’
An intelligent lycan does not get to be as old and powerful as this creature was by lacking knowledge of strategic warfare. The human soldier would not fire upon his own company just as this hunter would not shoot down Wayne, so it landed in crouch just behind the frightened Lister just long enough to make Alexx ceasefire, before leaping again to clamp its jaws around his last muttered scream.
It took Wayne several moments to realize he wasn’t monster-chow. His head hurt from screwing his eyes so tight, and his throat burned from the scream he hadn’t noticed he was emitting. When the apartment fell silent and all he could hear was the rise and fall of the beast breathing, he cracked open his eyes and quietly whimpered under his breath. The apartment wall behind where Alexx had been standing had been spray-painted a malevolent red, the young hunter’s blood dripping from the light switch, ceiling and dome light. The corpse itself was so soaked in his blood that it looked black or maybe purple, the Wayne of present-time could never specifically recall.
Before he could think of making a break for the door, Wayne was on his back, looking down the muzzle of the lycan creature, its intelligent eyes fixing him to his position on the floor. One paw with very long serrated claws pushed hard on his chest, but not enough to tear or maim his skin. The man’s awe and alarm were tangible, mixing in the air with the heady scent of beast. And then, going against every law of science and physics that he’d been taught in that fancy northeastern college, the wolf-like creature began to morph into something less terrifying. Its long snout began to recede into its face, swelling and contorting while the beast howled in pain before it took on a most human-like figure. First it had a nose, and then its skin became clean and hairless around his eyes. The outstretched paw pinning him to the tile floor was suddenly a bare arm, and just like that, a middle-aged naked man was poised above him in the same aggressive crouch.
The eyes stayed the same. Whenever Wayne watches a lycan go through its painful metamorphosis from man to beast now, that is what disturbed him the most; a brilliant pair of blue-green eyes studying him from just a few inches away. Too shocked to speak and far too scared to move, Wayne Lister watched the human-creature rise to its full height of 6’7” and sneer at him, as if disgusted.
“You’re no fucking hunter,” it growled, his voice still as deep and ominous as the creature’s rumble. “You’re hardly enough human to pick my teeth with.” He rolled his eyes, surveying the coward still clutching his ears with both hands. “Do me a solid and fucking stay down.” With a longing glance toward the bodies of Wayne’s dead drinking buddies, the man grabbed a thick overcoat from Ethan’s lanky coat-rack and left Wayne’s life just as suddenly and boldly as he’d entered it.
Optional
*Likes:
- Bourbon
- Scotch
- Dense reading material
- Hunting
- His inheritance
- Loose women
- Driving in the country
- Tailored suits
- Glock
- Winchester
- Remmington
*Dislikes:
- Busy city life
- Cigarette smoke
- Business partners
- His day job
- Drugs or druggies
- Lycan especially, but all supernatural life included
*What you want to see happen to your character:
I want him to put a substantial dent in the NPC lycan underworld's numbers, raise a little hell, drink a lot of whiskey, and overall have a New York City spending/killing spree that would absolutely devastate his parents' delicate sensibilities.
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