Post by Sárán Dwyre on Apr 27, 2009 16:55:33 GMT -5
Behind The Mask
OOC Name: Catie
Gender: Female
Other Characters: none
Basic Information
Name: Sárán Dwyre
Aliases: Shawn Duvane
Actual Age: 55
Appearing Age:27
Gender: Male
Species: Warewolf
Approx. Birth Date: Spring 1954
Status:(straight, Gay, Bi-sexual) Straight
Appearance
Height: 5’10”
Hair: (Color & Style) Brown, long in length
Eyes: brown, hazel, grey, you choose (depends on my mood/ the day)
Skin: Rough, ruddy
Body Type: athletic, toned
Skin Markings: (Tattoos & Piercings) tatoo of a celtic cross with the words “carpe diem” scribed next to it on my left fore arm. On my right shoulder, a Tahitian tribal tatoo.
Celebrity Claim: Colin Farrell
Picture see avatar
Background Information
Personality: For the most part, Sárán can be very a very nice, likeable person. He’s easy to get along with. He will join in on a joke, but is never one to lead a prank. Never piss Sárán off. You will wish you were dead before he lays a hand on you.
Weakness: (At Least 4)
Wine
Women
Music
Silver
Strengths: (At Least 4)
Extra human fortitude
Enhanced speed
Heightened sense of smell
Superior hearing
Increased healing
History: (Should Be As Long As Your Age) Marilyn Monroe married Joe DiMaggio. Queen Elizabeth II of England visits Australia. RCA manufactures the first color television, 12”, for $1,000. Canada opens first subway line in Toronto. Dwight D. Eisenhower delivers his “domino” address. I am born.
The year was 1954. My mother, had been a Air Force Nurse who had slept with a pilot just after the Korean War ended. People always seemed do be doing that. “I’m going off to war, I want you to be the last face I carry off into battle,” and “I just got back from the war, I’d like you to be the first woman to welcome me home,” was heard all to often in those years. God, could men in those days not come up with something more original. “I could die,” and “I could have died.” If I was a woman, I would have said “Yes, but you didn’t die, fucker. Grow some testicles and move on with your life.”
I never knew my father, and neither did my mother really. It had only been that brief moment that night when she had slept with the war veteran. It was because of that brief one night stand that my mother never wanted me to join the army, the navy or any other military force, especially the air force.
We moved to Ireland after I was born to live with my maternal grandparents. She told them that she had been married and that my father had died from a disease he had picked up in the war. They never knew the truth until the day I died, when I was 14 years old. At this time, my mom decided to marry a man who had been a close friend to her throughout the years since we had moved there, and whom she had been sweethearts with in high school.
They fell in love once again, and since I had already considered him a father, it wasn’t too hard or all of us to live together as one big happy family. My father, Séighín, or Sheehan as it was more easily pronounced, was a great man and spent a lot of time with my mom and me, even though he was a orchestra maestro. He traveled around the world with his orchestra, but always came home to mom and me.
I left for college to England when I tuned 18, attending Oxford. I had originally planned to go into the school of medicine, but something in less than the upcoming decade would change that decision forever. I would never see it coming, and never wanted to, but when it happened, there was no way of preventing it, and once it started, there was no way of stopping it.
I had just gotten engaged to the most beautiful premed student on the eve of my 25th birthday. She had been the perfect candidate for my life partner. My mother loved her, Séighín approved. Séighín had even invited the three of us, Sorcha (pronounced SUR a ka), my mom and myself down to Italy for a birthday slash engagement party following his orchestra concert.
The night had started out beautifully. Séighín’s music was breathtaking, Sorcha had been breathtaking, and the night could not have been more breathtaking. It was the perfect way to spend what was the happiest day of my life. If only I had known it would be the last happiest day of my life.
Just as we were leaving the concert corridor, we were surrounded by a group of men I could only describe at that time as being heathens. Rutty, cutthroats out to make a killing. And that was exactly what they had on their minds. Killing. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I stood there in horror, watching these men change form in front of my eyes becoming rabid beasts.
For the longest time, that was all I could remember of that night. No matter how hard I tried to recall the minutes, the seconds that lead up to the death of my family, my delightful Sorcha as well, the more I could not remember. Until one night, the memories of that sickening night came cascading down upon me, washing over me, staining my memory as did the blood that drenched the street that night.
The men had shapeshifted into what I now know to be werewolves and came after us. We didn’t stand a chance. Common folk do not walk around with weapons expecting to have to defend themselves. They were amazingly fast, incredibly strong, and malicious. They ripped into the four of us, tearing us apart, shredding our lives from us.
Only I didn’t die. Cirino, the leader of the pack, or ulfric took me under his watchful eye and taught me the ways of the pack. I despised Cirino, though. Even though he had kept me alive and educated me in the ways of my new life, I felt as though I owed him nothing. He was nothing to me. I was not even grateful to him for teaching me, for keeping me alive after he and his pack attacked my family and myself.
And that is why I did it. I challenged the bastard. I did not believe I would survive. I did not even wish to survive, but I wanted to kill the fucker for what he had done to me and to my family. I wanted to take from him that which he took from me. And as he took his last breath, I felt a vengeance I was not sure I would ever feel. My family, for once in the years that had passed, were finally at peace.
And I was now the ulfric. I had never planned on being the ulfric of this pack, nor did I ever wish to be, but once I was, I decided it was time to widdle out the bad and work on the good. I killed all the men that had been involved with the attack on my family. They had not even put up a fight. I learned quickly that with being the ulfric comes a lot of respect and fear. They knew that they were to die and so they did.
With an almost entirely new crew, we took on a new pack name: Foirtchearn Faoiltiarn. It had come from primordial Irish lore meaning wolf overlord. I felt it only proper and fitting. This pack was no longer Cirino’s and there for no longer was an Italian pack. From here on out, we would forever be known as Foirtchearn Faoiltiarn.
After becoming a lycothrope, the world seemed to fog in around me. For so many years, I had drowned myself in the end of y life, wishing to die. I began drinking and dipping into drugs, pilfering and pillaging tiny villages, killing everyone and not caring about anything. I already felt as though I was doomed to die and that I was going straight to hell.
Then, once able to somewhat control my morphing, I found God. I was baptized into the Catholic religion, being absolved of all my prior sins, finally seeing the light that it was not my fault that my family was killed and I was spared. In thanks to this, I’ve had plenty of time to devote myself to the finer tings in life. I’ve become accustomed to fine wines, dining, in addition to the love I had already acquired for fine music from Séighín.
In addition to the fine types of music, I’ve been able to teach myself many different types of instruments, my favorites of which being the piano and bass guitar. Because of my love for these instruments, I started a band, naming it Foirtchearn Faoiltiarn as a silent joke to me and my Freki and Geri, who I trusted more than anyone since my dia de la morte.
Family: Séighín and Searc Duvane * pronounced Sheehan and Shark
Friends: Keeps two people close, my Freki and Geri, Hyrum and Aislan.
Enemies: Anyone who crosses him.
Lover: Being a musician, he can have any whenever he chooses.
Powers:
(see strengths)
Partial Shapeshifting
Restrictive/Influential Shapeshifting
Endowed Healing
Role Play Sample: (Should be written as the character you are applying for, not taken from another site.)
I sat in my drawing room at my mansion after a show one night, Hyrum and Aislan had both gone out for the night with the groupies, something I rarely did. I didn’t much like the night life, having gotten my share of it years ago before my rebirth. I didn’t expect my pack to adhere to my way of life. It wasn’t as though they saw things as I did.
I sat back in giant armchair, looking at the portrait of my beautiful Sorcha. There had been a time when I would looked at her loving face and felt nothing but remorse and pain. Now, when I looked at my dearest angel I saw nothing but my darling immortalized. Sure, the pain was still there, but she would never grow old in my eyes. She would always be that amazingly stunning 24 year old I fell in love with. She would never grow old in my eyes.
Of course, I would always see that horrific moment emblazoned in my eyes. I could hear her agonizing screams every night in my dreams. But I did not mourn her as I once did. She had lived an remarkable life. I knew she was among the angels, her head resting with Jesus. She would forever be immortalized in my mind as the young premed student, bursting for life.
Placing the portrait on the side table, I stood to cross the room. Running my hand along the frame of the cherry wood grand piano, I sighed. Sitting down at the keys, I began to play the music of my soul. It was a soft, melodic harmony. Years of love and pain culminating into this incomparable sonata. Every chord, every key underscored the beautiful life and love that Sorcha was and still is to me.
The melody started off with happiness and bliss, representing the moments we met and fell in love, before turning to a disparaging darkness, ending only in the sweet calm I felt now. It was the music of my soul and the score for my love.
Striking the last note, I looked down, closing my eyes. Even her memory and her melody was not enough to save me sometimes. There were times I just needed to escape, and the best way to do that was by drowning myself in some nubile lass. Leaving the room in its quiet solitude, I stood and left the room. The ladies of the night were always a welcome distraction.
OOC Name: Catie
Gender: Female
Other Characters: none
Basic Information
Name: Sárán Dwyre
Aliases: Shawn Duvane
Actual Age: 55
Appearing Age:27
Gender: Male
Species: Warewolf
Approx. Birth Date: Spring 1954
Status:(straight, Gay, Bi-sexual) Straight
Appearance
Height: 5’10”
Hair: (Color & Style) Brown, long in length
Eyes: brown, hazel, grey, you choose (depends on my mood/ the day)
Skin: Rough, ruddy
Body Type: athletic, toned
Skin Markings: (Tattoos & Piercings) tatoo of a celtic cross with the words “carpe diem” scribed next to it on my left fore arm. On my right shoulder, a Tahitian tribal tatoo.
Celebrity Claim: Colin Farrell
Picture see avatar
Background Information
Personality: For the most part, Sárán can be very a very nice, likeable person. He’s easy to get along with. He will join in on a joke, but is never one to lead a prank. Never piss Sárán off. You will wish you were dead before he lays a hand on you.
Weakness: (At Least 4)
Wine
Women
Music
Silver
Strengths: (At Least 4)
Extra human fortitude
Enhanced speed
Heightened sense of smell
Superior hearing
Increased healing
History: (Should Be As Long As Your Age) Marilyn Monroe married Joe DiMaggio. Queen Elizabeth II of England visits Australia. RCA manufactures the first color television, 12”, for $1,000. Canada opens first subway line in Toronto. Dwight D. Eisenhower delivers his “domino” address. I am born.
The year was 1954. My mother, had been a Air Force Nurse who had slept with a pilot just after the Korean War ended. People always seemed do be doing that. “I’m going off to war, I want you to be the last face I carry off into battle,” and “I just got back from the war, I’d like you to be the first woman to welcome me home,” was heard all to often in those years. God, could men in those days not come up with something more original. “I could die,” and “I could have died.” If I was a woman, I would have said “Yes, but you didn’t die, fucker. Grow some testicles and move on with your life.”
I never knew my father, and neither did my mother really. It had only been that brief moment that night when she had slept with the war veteran. It was because of that brief one night stand that my mother never wanted me to join the army, the navy or any other military force, especially the air force.
We moved to Ireland after I was born to live with my maternal grandparents. She told them that she had been married and that my father had died from a disease he had picked up in the war. They never knew the truth until the day I died, when I was 14 years old. At this time, my mom decided to marry a man who had been a close friend to her throughout the years since we had moved there, and whom she had been sweethearts with in high school.
They fell in love once again, and since I had already considered him a father, it wasn’t too hard or all of us to live together as one big happy family. My father, Séighín, or Sheehan as it was more easily pronounced, was a great man and spent a lot of time with my mom and me, even though he was a orchestra maestro. He traveled around the world with his orchestra, but always came home to mom and me.
I left for college to England when I tuned 18, attending Oxford. I had originally planned to go into the school of medicine, but something in less than the upcoming decade would change that decision forever. I would never see it coming, and never wanted to, but when it happened, there was no way of preventing it, and once it started, there was no way of stopping it.
I had just gotten engaged to the most beautiful premed student on the eve of my 25th birthday. She had been the perfect candidate for my life partner. My mother loved her, Séighín approved. Séighín had even invited the three of us, Sorcha (pronounced SUR a ka), my mom and myself down to Italy for a birthday slash engagement party following his orchestra concert.
The night had started out beautifully. Séighín’s music was breathtaking, Sorcha had been breathtaking, and the night could not have been more breathtaking. It was the perfect way to spend what was the happiest day of my life. If only I had known it would be the last happiest day of my life.
Just as we were leaving the concert corridor, we were surrounded by a group of men I could only describe at that time as being heathens. Rutty, cutthroats out to make a killing. And that was exactly what they had on their minds. Killing. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I stood there in horror, watching these men change form in front of my eyes becoming rabid beasts.
For the longest time, that was all I could remember of that night. No matter how hard I tried to recall the minutes, the seconds that lead up to the death of my family, my delightful Sorcha as well, the more I could not remember. Until one night, the memories of that sickening night came cascading down upon me, washing over me, staining my memory as did the blood that drenched the street that night.
The men had shapeshifted into what I now know to be werewolves and came after us. We didn’t stand a chance. Common folk do not walk around with weapons expecting to have to defend themselves. They were amazingly fast, incredibly strong, and malicious. They ripped into the four of us, tearing us apart, shredding our lives from us.
Only I didn’t die. Cirino, the leader of the pack, or ulfric took me under his watchful eye and taught me the ways of the pack. I despised Cirino, though. Even though he had kept me alive and educated me in the ways of my new life, I felt as though I owed him nothing. He was nothing to me. I was not even grateful to him for teaching me, for keeping me alive after he and his pack attacked my family and myself.
And that is why I did it. I challenged the bastard. I did not believe I would survive. I did not even wish to survive, but I wanted to kill the fucker for what he had done to me and to my family. I wanted to take from him that which he took from me. And as he took his last breath, I felt a vengeance I was not sure I would ever feel. My family, for once in the years that had passed, were finally at peace.
And I was now the ulfric. I had never planned on being the ulfric of this pack, nor did I ever wish to be, but once I was, I decided it was time to widdle out the bad and work on the good. I killed all the men that had been involved with the attack on my family. They had not even put up a fight. I learned quickly that with being the ulfric comes a lot of respect and fear. They knew that they were to die and so they did.
With an almost entirely new crew, we took on a new pack name: Foirtchearn Faoiltiarn. It had come from primordial Irish lore meaning wolf overlord. I felt it only proper and fitting. This pack was no longer Cirino’s and there for no longer was an Italian pack. From here on out, we would forever be known as Foirtchearn Faoiltiarn.
After becoming a lycothrope, the world seemed to fog in around me. For so many years, I had drowned myself in the end of y life, wishing to die. I began drinking and dipping into drugs, pilfering and pillaging tiny villages, killing everyone and not caring about anything. I already felt as though I was doomed to die and that I was going straight to hell.
Then, once able to somewhat control my morphing, I found God. I was baptized into the Catholic religion, being absolved of all my prior sins, finally seeing the light that it was not my fault that my family was killed and I was spared. In thanks to this, I’ve had plenty of time to devote myself to the finer tings in life. I’ve become accustomed to fine wines, dining, in addition to the love I had already acquired for fine music from Séighín.
In addition to the fine types of music, I’ve been able to teach myself many different types of instruments, my favorites of which being the piano and bass guitar. Because of my love for these instruments, I started a band, naming it Foirtchearn Faoiltiarn as a silent joke to me and my Freki and Geri, who I trusted more than anyone since my dia de la morte.
Family: Séighín and Searc Duvane * pronounced Sheehan and Shark
Friends: Keeps two people close, my Freki and Geri, Hyrum and Aislan.
Enemies: Anyone who crosses him.
Lover: Being a musician, he can have any whenever he chooses.
Powers:
(see strengths)
Partial Shapeshifting
Restrictive/Influential Shapeshifting
Endowed Healing
Role Play Sample: (Should be written as the character you are applying for, not taken from another site.)
I sat in my drawing room at my mansion after a show one night, Hyrum and Aislan had both gone out for the night with the groupies, something I rarely did. I didn’t much like the night life, having gotten my share of it years ago before my rebirth. I didn’t expect my pack to adhere to my way of life. It wasn’t as though they saw things as I did.
I sat back in giant armchair, looking at the portrait of my beautiful Sorcha. There had been a time when I would looked at her loving face and felt nothing but remorse and pain. Now, when I looked at my dearest angel I saw nothing but my darling immortalized. Sure, the pain was still there, but she would never grow old in my eyes. She would always be that amazingly stunning 24 year old I fell in love with. She would never grow old in my eyes.
Of course, I would always see that horrific moment emblazoned in my eyes. I could hear her agonizing screams every night in my dreams. But I did not mourn her as I once did. She had lived an remarkable life. I knew she was among the angels, her head resting with Jesus. She would forever be immortalized in my mind as the young premed student, bursting for life.
Placing the portrait on the side table, I stood to cross the room. Running my hand along the frame of the cherry wood grand piano, I sighed. Sitting down at the keys, I began to play the music of my soul. It was a soft, melodic harmony. Years of love and pain culminating into this incomparable sonata. Every chord, every key underscored the beautiful life and love that Sorcha was and still is to me.
The melody started off with happiness and bliss, representing the moments we met and fell in love, before turning to a disparaging darkness, ending only in the sweet calm I felt now. It was the music of my soul and the score for my love.
Striking the last note, I looked down, closing my eyes. Even her memory and her melody was not enough to save me sometimes. There were times I just needed to escape, and the best way to do that was by drowning myself in some nubile lass. Leaving the room in its quiet solitude, I stood and left the room. The ladies of the night were always a welcome distraction.
