Post by Dizzy on Apr 11, 2011 13:02:28 GMT -4
O L D B L O O D
C A N O N S •••
C A N O N S •••
[scrolly:w(550),c(5e5551),as(border-color: 000000; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-top: 10px;][scrolly:w(530), c(5e5551), as(padding-top: 8px;)]
[scrolly:w(500), c(c4b0a9), as(padding-bottom: 3px;)][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(5e5551), as(padding-top: 4px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: palatino; font-size: 20px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: 91827d;)]Halima _____ Raanan[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(c4b0a9), as(padding-bottom: 3px;)][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450), c(453e3b), as(padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;)]Name: Halima _____ Raanan || Age: Guestimated over 3,000 || Prior Lifestyle: Pharaoh's Harem || New Profession: Clothing Seller || Status Of Infection: Immune[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450),h(300),c(4d4542),as(text-align: center; color: efefef; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; overflow: auto; border: 1px solid 000000; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px;)]
Halima was born in a time of trials and tribulations. A time before Jesus Christ, the Savior of all (or at least, the Christians) came to be. She was never truly a woman of faith, although, she did show her love to her Gods whenever she was asked to do so. The life that she was leading made it hard for her to believe that there was such a thing as kindness or goodness. She believed in the Gods of the Underworld, for surely, they were far more noticeable during times like these. Halima served as a part of Pharaoh Rameses II harem. In essence, she gave her body to him whenever he pleased, regardless of how disgusting she found him. He was a vile man, incapable of showing any compassion or love to anyone but himself.
When Moses and Aaron came to him, Halima stood beside the Pharaoh fanning him. They had asked him to let the Jews go; let the slaves go. Of course, Rameses denied them their request. Moses had raised his staff, and his staff and the swords of the guards had turned into snakes. Halima ran then. She ran, and she ran until her feet threatened to bleed. She had then been accosted by the Guards, and had been asked of what had happened in the throne room. Halima had never been able to shake that image. Madness started to break out across Egypt… And thus, madness broke out in her soul. She began to eat the flesh of the others, uncaring of what the consequences might be. However, if she would have known that she was to become… This, she would have stopped herself then and there. She would have embraced death; perhaps, died alongside Rameses first born son.
But, she didn't have that kind of foresight. She has lived quite a good many years, and is probably the oldest of all of the surviving Old Bloods. She's a rather secretive woman. She carries herself in a rather quiet manner. Despite the fact that she has been away from the life of a harem for quite some time, she still abides by the rules of a Pharaoh's companion, and always acts as such. She is a lady of mystery and hidden smiles. She has been known to enchant her devotees with her old tricks. In fact, some have mistaken her for a Succubus on more than one occasion. Believe it or not, it's a role that she fits in comfortably; she prefers it that way.
Halima currently works as a clothing merchant. She carries silks, and various different kinds of fabrics. She moves from trading to trading town in hopes of finding a new devotee. Her last one had fallen to the Infection. And she hungers. She's a very mild mannered woman, with a rather dark sense of humor. She carries herself with pride and with grace. Some would say that she is the epitome of elegance.
[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450),c(5e5551),as(padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;)]PB: Faceclaim || Status: Open [/scrolly]
[/scrolly][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(c4b0a9), as(padding-bottom: 3px;)][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(5e5551), as(padding-top: 4px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: palatino; font-size: 20px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: 91827d;)]Halima _____ Raanan[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(c4b0a9), as(padding-bottom: 3px;)][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450), c(453e3b), as(padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;)]Name: Halima _____ Raanan || Age: Guestimated over 3,000 || Prior Lifestyle: Pharaoh's Harem || New Profession: Clothing Seller || Status Of Infection: Immune[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450),h(300),c(4d4542),as(text-align: center; color: efefef; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; overflow: auto; border: 1px solid 000000; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px;)]
Halima was born in a time of trials and tribulations. A time before Jesus Christ, the Savior of all (or at least, the Christians) came to be. She was never truly a woman of faith, although, she did show her love to her Gods whenever she was asked to do so. The life that she was leading made it hard for her to believe that there was such a thing as kindness or goodness. She believed in the Gods of the Underworld, for surely, they were far more noticeable during times like these. Halima served as a part of Pharaoh Rameses II harem. In essence, she gave her body to him whenever he pleased, regardless of how disgusting she found him. He was a vile man, incapable of showing any compassion or love to anyone but himself.
When Moses and Aaron came to him, Halima stood beside the Pharaoh fanning him. They had asked him to let the Jews go; let the slaves go. Of course, Rameses denied them their request. Moses had raised his staff, and his staff and the swords of the guards had turned into snakes. Halima ran then. She ran, and she ran until her feet threatened to bleed. She had then been accosted by the Guards, and had been asked of what had happened in the throne room. Halima had never been able to shake that image. Madness started to break out across Egypt… And thus, madness broke out in her soul. She began to eat the flesh of the others, uncaring of what the consequences might be. However, if she would have known that she was to become… This, she would have stopped herself then and there. She would have embraced death; perhaps, died alongside Rameses first born son.
But, she didn't have that kind of foresight. She has lived quite a good many years, and is probably the oldest of all of the surviving Old Bloods. She's a rather secretive woman. She carries herself in a rather quiet manner. Despite the fact that she has been away from the life of a harem for quite some time, she still abides by the rules of a Pharaoh's companion, and always acts as such. She is a lady of mystery and hidden smiles. She has been known to enchant her devotees with her old tricks. In fact, some have mistaken her for a Succubus on more than one occasion. Believe it or not, it's a role that she fits in comfortably; she prefers it that way.
Halima currently works as a clothing merchant. She carries silks, and various different kinds of fabrics. She moves from trading to trading town in hopes of finding a new devotee. Her last one had fallen to the Infection. And she hungers. She's a very mild mannered woman, with a rather dark sense of humor. She carries herself with pride and with grace. Some would say that she is the epitome of elegance.
[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450),c(5e5551),as(padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;)]PB: Faceclaim || Status: Open [/scrolly]
[/scrolly][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(550),c(5e5551),as(border-color: 000000; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-top: 10px;][scrolly:w(530), c(5e5551), as(padding-top: 8px;)]
[scrolly:w(500), c(c4b0a9), as(padding-bottom: 3px;)][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(5e5551), as(padding-top: 4px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: palatino; font-size: 20px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: 91827d;)]Markus _____ Emmerich[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(c4b0a9), as(padding-bottom: 3px;)][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450), c(453e3b), as(padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;)]Name: Markus _____ Emmerich || Age: 215 || Prior Lifestyle: Blacksmith || New Profession: Weapons Dealer || Status Of Infection: Immune[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450),h(300),c(4d4542),as(text-align: center; color: efefef; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; overflow: auto; border: 1px solid 000000; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px;)]
Markus was born in Berlin, Germany during the time that it was still called part of the "Holy Roman Empire." He's always been a touch militant and rather vocal about his beliefs. There are many things that he doesn't agree with. Some think that it's just in his nature to be contrary. He's always been a bit of a darker man, never wanting to see the brighter aspects of life. After all, what was the point in remaining optimistic about anything when his life was going to be forfeit anyway? When someday, he was going to die? It was a common mentality amongst weapon smiths. Some had said that he was in the wrong profession; a profession that helped others bring death. But, it was where the money was, and it was a trade that his father had passed onto him; he worked with the cards that he was handed.
But, there was another side to him. One that not many people knew of. He was, in fact, capable of a smile but it was reserved for a very small, select group of people. He had often been heard saying, "I like people, I just loathe humanity," in the later years of his life. If it wasn't for the outbreak of SmallPox that raped the entirety of Europe, he probably would have died working in the Smithy. He had noticed the warning signs; he had seen the outbreaks amongst some of those that he had called friend. Some of his lovers as well (although it is a little known fact, Markus is quite a hit with the ladies… and he adores it that way. He often took more than one woman to bed at a time. However, that is a habit that he keeps relatively quiet, now that he is on the active hunt for a devotee. But that is a story for another time.
A friend of his had come to the conclusion that the only way to save themselves from becoming infected was to eat the flesh of those that weren't sick with the SmallPox. It was a primitive thought, even back then, but Markus had always been a firm believer in primitive instincts. So, they ate. They fed, and they fed until they could no longer feed. Something in them began to change, and he found that he was enjoying this… Less than human sensation. They became demons; abominations. Nothing had ever been more fitting for Markus' personality. Thus, he embraced it, and his seemingly new refined ability to seduce, even the most beautiful of women with just a look. Hunger, greed, lust… these are all words that describe his driving force as an Old Blood.
Always a poetic and philosophical thinker, many of his writings are scattered across the world; many of them alluding to who and what he has become.
Deep inside, there beats a heart. A heart that he wants so very desperately to destroy. Compassion and love, in his eyes, are human; he does not wish to be human. It is a condition of which, he tires of, very quickly.
[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450),c(5e5551),as(padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;)]PB: Henry Cavill || Status: Open [/scrolly]
[/scrolly][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(c4b0a9), as(padding-bottom: 3px;)][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(5e5551), as(padding-top: 4px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: palatino; font-size: 20px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: 91827d;)]Markus _____ Emmerich[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(c4b0a9), as(padding-bottom: 3px;)][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450), c(453e3b), as(padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;)]Name: Markus _____ Emmerich || Age: 215 || Prior Lifestyle: Blacksmith || New Profession: Weapons Dealer || Status Of Infection: Immune[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450),h(300),c(4d4542),as(text-align: center; color: efefef; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; overflow: auto; border: 1px solid 000000; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px;)]
Markus was born in Berlin, Germany during the time that it was still called part of the "Holy Roman Empire." He's always been a touch militant and rather vocal about his beliefs. There are many things that he doesn't agree with. Some think that it's just in his nature to be contrary. He's always been a bit of a darker man, never wanting to see the brighter aspects of life. After all, what was the point in remaining optimistic about anything when his life was going to be forfeit anyway? When someday, he was going to die? It was a common mentality amongst weapon smiths. Some had said that he was in the wrong profession; a profession that helped others bring death. But, it was where the money was, and it was a trade that his father had passed onto him; he worked with the cards that he was handed.
But, there was another side to him. One that not many people knew of. He was, in fact, capable of a smile but it was reserved for a very small, select group of people. He had often been heard saying, "I like people, I just loathe humanity," in the later years of his life. If it wasn't for the outbreak of SmallPox that raped the entirety of Europe, he probably would have died working in the Smithy. He had noticed the warning signs; he had seen the outbreaks amongst some of those that he had called friend. Some of his lovers as well (although it is a little known fact, Markus is quite a hit with the ladies… and he adores it that way. He often took more than one woman to bed at a time. However, that is a habit that he keeps relatively quiet, now that he is on the active hunt for a devotee. But that is a story for another time.
A friend of his had come to the conclusion that the only way to save themselves from becoming infected was to eat the flesh of those that weren't sick with the SmallPox. It was a primitive thought, even back then, but Markus had always been a firm believer in primitive instincts. So, they ate. They fed, and they fed until they could no longer feed. Something in them began to change, and he found that he was enjoying this… Less than human sensation. They became demons; abominations. Nothing had ever been more fitting for Markus' personality. Thus, he embraced it, and his seemingly new refined ability to seduce, even the most beautiful of women with just a look. Hunger, greed, lust… these are all words that describe his driving force as an Old Blood.
Always a poetic and philosophical thinker, many of his writings are scattered across the world; many of them alluding to who and what he has become.
Deep inside, there beats a heart. A heart that he wants so very desperately to destroy. Compassion and love, in his eyes, are human; he does not wish to be human. It is a condition of which, he tires of, very quickly.
[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450),c(5e5551),as(padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;)]PB: Henry Cavill || Status: Open [/scrolly]
[/scrolly][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(550),c(5e5551),as(border-color: 000000; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-top: 10px;][scrolly:w(530), c(5e5551), as(padding-top: 8px;)]
[scrolly:w(500), c(c4b0a9), as(padding-bottom: 3px;)][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(5e5551), as(padding-top: 4px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: palatino; font-size: 20px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: 91827d;)]Elizabeth _____ Smith[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(c4b0a9), as(padding-bottom: 3px;)][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450), c(453e3b), as(padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;)]Name: Elizabeth _____ Smith || Age: 688 || Prior Lifestyle: Bard/Tavern Wench || New Profession: Musician, owns a musical instrument "kiosk," taking in instruments and stripping them for useful parts. || Status Of Infection: Immune[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450),h(300),c(4d4542),as(text-align: center; color: efefef; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; overflow: auto; border: 1px solid 000000; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px;)]
"Once a tavern wench, always a tavern wench!" At least, that's what Elizabeth says. Needless to say, she spent many nights in unpleasant company… But hey, at least they left her bed in the morning! She's a bit loud, sometimes very crude and completely incapable of taking anything too seriously. Hell, when the Bubonic Plague came to her town, she was laughing about it the entire time. Her philosophy has always been that life is entirely too short to spend every second of it obsessed with the thought of dying. Well, that's what it's become, at least. Back then, she didn't know how to put the thought into words. But now that she's had quite some time to think about it, she figures that she's done quite well in making a rather astute statement!
When she was "alive" she was a tavern wench, but she was also a Bard. Music had always been her passion. But, unfortunately, she wasn't allowed to be an official Bard. So, she made due by singing at the tavern that she worked at. On occasion, when everyone was particularly drunk, she would pick up an instrument and make a spectacle of herself. She's always been quite a stunning woman, but she is truly humble about her looks. However, when it comes to her rather powerful voice, and amazing ability to play whatever instrument it is that is tossed into her hands, she has a rather large musical ego. She believes in Freedom, Truth and Love, and often finds herself singing on all three subjects! In the same song!
Life is something that she takes as a blessing. She's spontaneous and fun loving. One would never believe that she was an Old Blood… Except for… Well, the age kind of screams that she's no longer human.
Beyond all of this, she's rather honest. But, she is never naive. Unlike the other Old Bloods, she's enjoying her style of living, and wouldn't change it for the world. Except… Well, not having a devotee to offer their blood to her.
[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450),c(5e5551),as(padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;)]PB: Florence Welch || Status: Open [/scrolly]
[/scrolly][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(c4b0a9), as(padding-bottom: 3px;)][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(5e5551), as(padding-top: 4px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: palatino; font-size: 20px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: 91827d;)]Elizabeth _____ Smith[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(c4b0a9), as(padding-bottom: 3px;)][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450), c(453e3b), as(padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;)]Name: Elizabeth _____ Smith || Age: 688 || Prior Lifestyle: Bard/Tavern Wench || New Profession: Musician, owns a musical instrument "kiosk," taking in instruments and stripping them for useful parts. || Status Of Infection: Immune[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450),h(300),c(4d4542),as(text-align: center; color: efefef; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; overflow: auto; border: 1px solid 000000; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px;)]
"Once a tavern wench, always a tavern wench!" At least, that's what Elizabeth says. Needless to say, she spent many nights in unpleasant company… But hey, at least they left her bed in the morning! She's a bit loud, sometimes very crude and completely incapable of taking anything too seriously. Hell, when the Bubonic Plague came to her town, she was laughing about it the entire time. Her philosophy has always been that life is entirely too short to spend every second of it obsessed with the thought of dying. Well, that's what it's become, at least. Back then, she didn't know how to put the thought into words. But now that she's had quite some time to think about it, she figures that she's done quite well in making a rather astute statement!
When she was "alive" she was a tavern wench, but she was also a Bard. Music had always been her passion. But, unfortunately, she wasn't allowed to be an official Bard. So, she made due by singing at the tavern that she worked at. On occasion, when everyone was particularly drunk, she would pick up an instrument and make a spectacle of herself. She's always been quite a stunning woman, but she is truly humble about her looks. However, when it comes to her rather powerful voice, and amazing ability to play whatever instrument it is that is tossed into her hands, she has a rather large musical ego. She believes in Freedom, Truth and Love, and often finds herself singing on all three subjects! In the same song!
Life is something that she takes as a blessing. She's spontaneous and fun loving. One would never believe that she was an Old Blood… Except for… Well, the age kind of screams that she's no longer human.
Beyond all of this, she's rather honest. But, she is never naive. Unlike the other Old Bloods, she's enjoying her style of living, and wouldn't change it for the world. Except… Well, not having a devotee to offer their blood to her.
[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450),c(5e5551),as(padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;)]PB: Florence Welch || Status: Open [/scrolly]
[/scrolly][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(550),c(5e5551),as(border-color: 000000; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-top: 10px;][scrolly:w(530), c(5e5551), as(padding-top: 8px;)]
[scrolly:w(500), c(c4b0a9), as(padding-bottom: 3px;)][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(5e5551), as(padding-top: 4px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: palatino; font-size: 20px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: 91827d;)]Aodhan Ciaran O'Dogherty[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(c4b0a9), as(padding-bottom: 3px;)][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450), c(453e3b), as(padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;)]Name: Aodhan Ciaran O'Dogherty || Age: 182 || Prior Lifestyle: Irish Nobility || New Profession: Zombie Killer/Rennovator || Status Of Infection: Immune[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450),h(300),c(4d4542),as(text-align: center; color: efefef; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; overflow: auto; border: 1px solid 000000; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px;)]
It's a little bit strange how one day Aodhan is a noble, and living a rather nice life… Being betrothed to a very beautiful woman, and seeing that his entire financial future is laid out for him. He would have many fat, healthy babies, and would be able to live out the rest of his days in a relatively peaceful country. And then… The next day, his lands would go to shit; his bride-to-be dying of starvation, and his parents to weak to continue on with their lives, leaving him completely alone. To survive, he had to eat their flesh; and from his flesh he became a creature born anew. Not just in his flesh, but in the eyes of God.
Aodhan took that as a sign to reconstruct his life; to stop being lazy and falling prey to the sin of Sloth. So, he started again anew. The man that he has become is an incredibly hard worker with a heart of gold. While he was not a virgin before he was turned into one of the Old Bloods, he is now a virgin, reborn. He's an honest man that refuses to lie about anything, however, now with the way that the world is, he has come to understand that there are such things as lies of omission which are necessary to survive. He's a highly intelligent and introverted man, capable of unraveling any mystery about himself, although, sometimes he is rather oblivious when it comes to the mysteries of others. He's still very much so in love with the land of his birth. He still speaks with an Irish accent, and when he cooks for guests he makes traditional Irish food.
While he may look a bit devious and a bit like a heart throb, he couldn't be more blind to the fairer sex. He never notices when a lady looks at him, and quite frankly is rather scared to. If he were to take a woman to his bed, he would want it to be serious. Since his wife-to-be has passed on, however, he doesn't believe in getting married. It would take a very special woman to tie him down. Fortunately enough for him, with the End of the World happening, the institution of marriage is essentially no longer in practice. But, Aodhan is a rather chivalrous man. He refuses to let his libido get in the way of getting to know a woman as a friend, and as an equal. For this very reason, when he takes devotees, he takes males. If he was to ever take a female devotee… She would have to be a very special woman indeed.
To the greater populace, Aodhan seems to be the type of man that is tough as nails. He's a damn good shot, and is incredibly well versed in all things military. His life now is killing zombies, and protecting those in settlements. For the time being, he's moving about, but he always manages to find his way back to Rustboro.
[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450),c(5e5551),as(padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;)]PB: Jonathon Rhys Meyers || Status: Taken [/scrolly]
[/scrolly][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(c4b0a9), as(padding-bottom: 3px;)][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(5e5551), as(padding-top: 4px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: palatino; font-size: 20px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: 91827d;)]Aodhan Ciaran O'Dogherty[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(500), c(c4b0a9), as(padding-bottom: 3px;)][/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450), c(453e3b), as(padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;)]Name: Aodhan Ciaran O'Dogherty || Age: 182 || Prior Lifestyle: Irish Nobility || New Profession: Zombie Killer/Rennovator || Status Of Infection: Immune[/scrolly]
[scrolly:w(450),h(300),c(4d4542),as(text-align: center; color: efefef; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; overflow: auto; border: 1px solid 000000; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px;)]
It's a little bit strange how one day Aodhan is a noble, and living a rather nice life… Being betrothed to a very beautiful woman, and seeing that his entire financial future is laid out for him. He would have many fat, healthy babies, and would be able to live out the rest of his days in a relatively peaceful country. And then… The next day, his lands would go to shit; his bride-to-be dying of starvation, and his parents to weak to continue on with their lives, leaving him completely alone. To survive, he had to eat their flesh; and from his flesh he became a creature born anew. Not just in his flesh, but in the eyes of God.
Aodhan took that as a sign to reconstruct his life; to stop being lazy and falling prey to the sin of Sloth. So, he started again anew. The man that he has become is an incredibly hard worker with a heart of gold. While he was not a virgin before he was turned into one of the Old Bloods, he is now a virgin, reborn. He's an honest man that refuses to lie about anything, however, now with the way that the world is, he has come to understand that there are such things as lies of omission which are necessary to survive. He's a highly intelligent and introverted man, capable of unraveling any mystery about himself, although, sometimes he is rather oblivious when it comes to the mysteries of others. He's still very much so in love with the land of his birth. He still speaks with an Irish accent, and when he cooks for guests he makes traditional Irish food.
While he may look a bit devious and a bit like a heart throb, he couldn't be more blind to the fairer sex. He never notices when a lady looks at him, and quite frankly is rather scared to. If he were to take a woman to his bed, he would want it to be serious. Since his wife-to-be has passed on, however, he doesn't believe in getting married. It would take a very special woman to tie him down. Fortunately enough for him, with the End of the World happening, the institution of marriage is essentially no longer in practice. But, Aodhan is a rather chivalrous man. He refuses to let his libido get in the way of getting to know a woman as a friend, and as an equal. For this very reason, when he takes devotees, he takes males. If he was to ever take a female devotee… She would have to be a very special woman indeed.
To the greater populace, Aodhan seems to be the type of man that is tough as nails. He's a damn good shot, and is incredibly well versed in all things military. His life now is killing zombies, and protecting those in settlements. For the time being, he's moving about, but he always manages to find his way back to Rustboro.
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[scrolly:w(450),c(5e5551),as(padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 1px; color: 999999;)]PB: Jonathon Rhys Meyers || Status: Taken [/scrolly]
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