BeastofDestiny

[Canceled]

WIP/Faceclaim

full name (I use a png font in their handwriting)
nicknames

(FC;Mark Strong // DC;8E8E38)
Name, Age (do it with their appearance and then their DOB, 00/00/0000), Gender, sexual orientation, relationship status, role in society/family.

- - - -
Occupation:

Affiliation/Loyalty: Artois, Tepes, Zeno. + the family they come from if not of the main 3

Personality (3 positive traits, 3 negative)
[Give a little bit more analysis/insight on each trait, or an in-depth look into the mind of your character, whichever you like!]

Aspirations/goals/philosophy: Why are they going through this trail, what do they want to achieve? What kind of change do they want in the vampire society?

Skill Set: What sets them apart from other vampires/humans, why would any party benefit from creating a partnership/alliance with your character?

Fears:

- - - -
History: [short blurb about where they come from, what they have experienced]

Then you can in add in whatever other info you want!

[Canceled]

If there's room I'd be interested in joining

REBOOT COMING SOON. INVITE ONLY.

Wanderer Hugo

Hue-Breaux Moreau

_{Hugo Moreau}

24 • MALE • PANSEXUAL

(FC: Jared Leto; Dialogue: 669900)
♫ Show them you're flames to the fire
It's written like your name on a flyer
They wanna tame your desire
But you light it up now your aims getting higher ♫

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► Reputation

“They say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, no? Well I say, true beauty, has to be found, within the heart of the beholden”

There are a few things that describe Hugo Moreau; a lover, a sinner, a toker, a grinner. Like fine cuisine, Hugo, as a whole, is greater than the sum of his parts. He takes life as it is, with all its normalities and oddities and accepts it as is, just another piece to the puzzle and chapter to the story. Laid back is probably too mild of a term for him, as if he were any more so he’d probably sink through the very ground itself. If he’s not found wandering the streets, a skip in his step, a song on his heart, he’s likely down at the beach, soaking up the sun, strumming his guitar to the beat of the setting sun. Perhaps you might meet him at a bar though, strike up a conversation, let him crash on your couch or join you beneath the sheets.

Despite this being said about him, most still view him as homeless and authorities are usually keeping a close eye on him, even if he isn’t necessarily doing anything wrong (at the time). Those that are willing to open their hearts and minds though, usually experience, if nothing else, an interesting time with the French immigrant rasta spiritualist that is Hugo.

► Noteworthy Appearance Traits

Loose shirts (sometimes Hawaiian, sometimes drug rugs), baggy cargo pants and jeans, sandals and a wool hat (literally all the time, doesn’t matter the weather), and the thick French accent

► Favorite Item

His acoustic guitar, a gift from his uncle before immigrating to America

► Escape or Adventure?

Hugo has always been a man with a penchant for wandering the land, so why not experience that with others? Even ones as young as the companions he may come across.

► Warning

Not much seems to bother the young man, except his past. He’s not necessarily ashamed of it, but he doesn’t remember much of it, and trying to remember leaves him failing and unwell, even to the point where things for the questioner, haven’t gone well.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

► Quirks

• Rather forgetful (terrible short term memory/even worse long term)
• Constantly jotting notes and sketching pictures in his personal book
• Generally laid back and cheerful no matter how stressful the situation (excluding his past)

► hobbies

• Playing his guitar
• Sketching on his notebook or artpad
• Smoking far too much weed
• Chatting up the locals and going into deep conversations
• Flirting

► Dreams

To travel the world, allow minds to be opened and listening, just as those around him allow his own mind to be open. Most importantly though, having the ability to travel the world and learn its ways before retiring in Jamaica with his Rastafarian brothers.

► Fears

His past, it’s clear that it’s the one thing holding him back and though he’s tried to find a way to remember, it only ends with pain and anger. The past is a dark beast constantly haunting him, the only way to escape it is to move forward and accept the beast as is, even though its fangs are always at his neck.

► Likes/Dislikes

✔ open minds and hearts
✔ music and culture
✔ love (in more forms than one)
✖ close-minded/hateful individuals
✖ the past (and being unable to remember)
✖ violence

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► Home Town

He knows he hails from France, that much is clear, in what town or city though he knows not. When he immigrated to America though, he settled along the southern end of California, learning the locals and cultures of the area and has travelled around ever since, never calling one place his true home.

► Occupation

Wandering Hippie/Stoner/Musician/Lover

► family

• No Recollection of family, except that of his uncle, his face is clear, but his name is not.

► Brief History

Though Hugo doesn’t remember much of his past, he does know he is of French decent, and that he travelled to the United States to live there. For what reason? He doesn’t know, but he doesn’t feel as though his decision to do so has lead him astray. In order to remember more recent events though he has kept a notebook detailing his daily life and activities, so that the following morning when he awakes, he can review the previous day and the faces he encountered. To put it simply, Hugo, even to himself, is an enigma

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► Extra Information

Beef Yakisoba (delicious)

REBOOT COMING SOON. INVITE ONLY.

With the amounts of pans in this RP, I'm starting to fear for any kitchens we may all come across.

@Vox

Nudez

@Ruler Inc

Well to be fair, its a very niche fetish, and I'd like to share a couple from my 'totally not porn' file. Not for the faint of heart.

OPEN AT OWN RISK

Two Pans, One Burner

Swinger Couple going at it hot and heavy

Interracial Sausage-fest

REBOOT COMING SOON. INVITE ONLY.

Wanderer Hugo

Hue-Breaux Moreau

_{Hugo Moreau}

24 • MALE • PANSEXUAL

(FC: Jared Leto; Dialogue: 669900)
♫ Show them you're flames to the fire
It's written like your name on a flyer
They wanna tame your desire
But you light it up now your aims getting higher ♫

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

► Reputation

“They say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, no? Well I say, true beauty, has to be found, within the heart of the beholden”

There are a few things that describe Hugo Moreau; a lover, a sinner, a toker, a grinner. Like fine cuisine, Hugo, as a whole, is greater than the sum of his parts. He takes life as it is, with all its normalities and oddities and accepts it as is, just another piece to the puzzle and chapter to the story. Laid back is probably too mild of a term for him, as if he were any more so he’d probably sink through the very ground itself. If he’s not found wandering the streets, a skip in his step, a song on his heart, he’s likely down at the beach, soaking up the sun, strumming his guitar to the beat of the setting sun. Perhaps you might meet him at a bar though, strike up a conversation, let him crash on your couch or join you beneath the sheets.

Despite this being said about him, most still view him as homeless and authorities are usually keeping a close eye on him, even if he isn’t necessarily doing anything wrong (at the time). Those that are willing to open their hearts and minds though, usually experience, if nothing else, an interesting time with the French immigrant rasta spiritualist that is Hugo.

► Noteworthy Appearance Traits

Loose shirts (sometimes Hawaiian, sometimes drug rugs), baggy cargo pants and jeans, sandals and a wool hat (literally all the time, doesn’t matter the weather), and the thick French accent

► Favorite Item

His acoustic guitar, a gift from his uncle before immigrating to America

► Escape or Adventure?

Hugo has always been a man with a penchant for wandering the land, so why not experience that with others? Even ones as young as the companions he may come across.

► Warning

Not much seems to bother the young man, except his past. He’s not necessarily ashamed of it, but he doesn’t remember much of it, and trying to remember leaves him failing and unwell, even to the point where things for the questioner, haven’t gone well.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

► Quirks

• Rather forgetful (terrible short term memory/even worse long term)
• Constantly jotting notes and sketching pictures in his personal book
• Generally laid back and cheerful no matter how stressful the situation (excluding his past)

► hobbies

• Playing his guitar
• Sketching on his notebook or artpad
• Smoking far too much weed
• Chatting up the locals and going into deep conversations
• Flirting

► Dreams

To travel the world, allow minds to be opened and listening, just as those around him allow his own mind to be open. Most importantly though, having the ability to travel the world and learn its ways before retiring in Jamaica with his Rastafarian brothers.

► Fears

His past, it’s clear that it’s the one thing holding him back and though he’s tried to find a way to remember, it only ends with pain and anger. The past is a dark beast constantly haunting him, the only way to escape it is to move forward and accept the beast as is, even though its fangs are always at his neck.

► Likes/Dislikes

✔ open minds and hearts
✔ music and culture
✔ love (in more forms than one)
✖ close-minded/hateful individuals
✖ the past (and being unable to remember)
✖ violence

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

► Home Town

He knows he hails from France, that much is clear, in what town or city though he knows not. When he immigrated to America though, he settled along the southern end of California, learning the locals and cultures of the area and has travelled around ever since, never calling one place his true home.

► Occupation

Wandering Hippie/Stoner/Musician/Lover

► family

• No Recollection of family, except that of his uncle, his face is clear, but his name is not.

► Brief History

Though Hugo doesn’t remember much of his past, he does know he is of French decent, and that he travelled to the United States to live there. For what reason? He doesn’t know, but he doesn’t feel as though his decision to do so has lead him astray. In order to remember more recent events though he has kept a notebook detailing his daily life and activities, so that the following morning when he awakes, he can review the previous day and the faces he encountered. To put it simply, Hugo, even to himself, is an enigma

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

► Extra Information

Beef Yakisoba (delicious)

REBOOT COMING SOON. INVITE ONLY.

Before I get too big for my britches

FC is 'Jared Leto', font color 669900, Name Hugo Moreau, application for 'other'

Drive Like You Stole It: Summer Road Trip

Hola, Beast is here and in gear

Our Evil Ways

My body is ready

Our Evil Ways

Donald “Don” Ackerson

---

---

Most of the people in the group were making valid points, whether or not they liked it, Freddie Jones was a man of determination and so far, Don trusted his intuition. There were things going on in the group that he had to pay attention to, but at the same time, he was also willing to voice his own opinion to his friend. "I agree with the group split, while some of us gather supplies others can go scout out for a shelter, while also protecting those with us. So long as we have an even distribution of combatants and non-combatants, I think we'll be-" clunk Did...something just strike Don? Looking down he noticed an empty can rolling and spinning around before settling, the aluminum resounding against the asphalt. Turning his attention to the crowd he quickly scanned before noticing a rather guilty and embarrassed face. Maintaining eye contact with the offender @Lovely Complex, he gently crouched down and picked up the can, "Excuse me for a moment Freddie Jones..."

Slowly, but with purpose he walked towards the young woman, eyes remaining in contact with her at all times, a deathly silence upon the group as they parted for him. Once in front of her, his hulking mass more than apparent compared to her tiny frame, he slowly crouched down, face to face, eye to eye. He was still for a few moments before swiftly taking her hand, palm open and placing the can in it, "It may be the apocalypse, but that's no reason for littering young lady." A small grin, barely noticeable plastered on his face. Standing back to full height he warned the girl, "Others...even now, won't be so kind to litterbugs." Stoic expression resumed, he returned back to his original position alongside Freddie Jones, arms crossed, an intimidating pose. "As I was saying, so long as we're evenly distributed, we should be fine."

---

Ollivander Clarke

---

---

Ollie listened to her as she ranted on about different blades of different ethnic origins. Despite her appearance, she certainly had the mind of a scholar, and he could only wonder what kind of profession this young woman had before the rug had been pulled from under them all. As she finished her tangent, stating that she'd tell him a specific tale of mythos and legend, he couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't a very loud laugh, but loud enough for anyone close enough to them to hear, but it was well a well needed laugh considering the circumstances. "You wouldn't happen to mean the same Dupthob Jangkha Lap, who was killed by his own creation, now would you?" He smiled considerably, having found another learned person who appreciated history as much as him. "I may not be as well versed in ancient weaponry as you are, but I certainly know of history's tales and lessons, and one that certainly speaks of how pride can sometimes be a vice."

Ollie's smile was warm as he gently raised his cane, "Considering your knowledge, I'm sure I don't have to tell you what this is." Presenting a slight visual for her, he lowered it back down, lowering his voice somewhat, "That being said, I'd rather it not be repeated out loud, stoicism is as much a vital tool as frailty is." His head turned as much as he could, he gave her a subtle wink, "Hopefully when it is calmer, we can certainly share some stories among ourselves and the group as a whole. Reaching in his pocket, he grasped a rather well worn handkerchief, dabbing at his face lightly as he scanned what was going on in the group. He noticed that they had decided to separate some of the members for gathering and others for shelter, but most concerning was his newest pupil Eden, supposedly being harassed by the rather muscular body guard of Mr. Jones.

Putting the cloth away he turned once more to the woman known as KT, "Thank you for indulging me in my curiosities Ms. KT, I look forward to speaking with you more, but for now, it seems that you are needed in more dire places." Pushing himself from the railing he started trotting away before turning back, "If at all possible on your journey, you are able to find a book of obscure, yet historical aspect, I would be greatly appreciative." Nodding in respectful departure, he made his way towards the young Eden @Lovely Complex. Ollie hadn't learned many languages, but one of them was ASL, which was particularly useful for this girl.
Placing his hand on her shoulder gently so as not to startle her, he started signing, "Are you alright my dear?"

Secrets

---

---

Millington, a town blanketed in lies; on the outside it looked quaint and pristine, filled with its little cafes and dog parks. Jarrek however knew the truth, that the small town was a corrupt cesspool filled with liars, thieves, hookers and blackjack. One of these days he was gonna blow the whistle, burn this whole town to the ground and wipe it off the map; they'd never get another 5 star review on TripAdvisor ever again. Driving downtown in his mighty Steed, Jarrek's eyes scoured every building, every person, every dog and cat that he almost ran over, searching for even an inkling of evidential course that would lead him to his next bust.

The question was, what evidence was he looking for that was going to lead him to who done gone and did it? That was the one thing really wracking his brain the past couple of weeks, despite all his effort and resources, he was simply stumped. The red threads only traveled so far on his wall, there was one missing link that could lead him to the source. It was only a matter of time before he stumbled upon it, even if he had to conduct tests on every scraping of blood, sweat or semen to find the proof in the bodily pudding. He wasn't above breaking the law either, he'd certainly spent some nights in the precinct, mostly for petty stuff though. Going back Jarrek recounted some of his misdemeanors, like breaking and entering, vandalism, disturbing the peace...he punched a cop once, that didn't go over so well, had to flea the county after that number.

Lost in his own thoughts he barely had time to register the soon to be asphalt planted person in front of his car, before abruptly slamming his brakes and honking his horn. Swerving out of the way he nearly hit a second person before his car collided into a parked car, crumpling up their benders in the process. When the dust had settled Jarrek was visibly and irrationally angry at the situation he landed himself into, "GODDAM- MOTHER FUCKI- COCK SUCKI- WHORES!!!!" Each swear was met with a jostling ragdoll movement of a very frustrated(fat) man, which in turn jostled his car. Attempting to open the door, he realized he was stuck in his car as the door barely budged and angrily started rolling down his window. Once opened he struggled to pull himself through it, with all the aggressiveness of a water buffalo, his fat rolls constrained against the tiny opening, before suddenly popping out and landing back first onto the concrete. "SON OF A BITCH!!!"

Pulling himself up, all the while breathing heavily he searched for his distraction that lead to the unfortunate vehicular collision. Eyeing up his target he started on his tangent "YOU ASSHOLE, LOOK AT WHAT you made..me...do......" Inexplicably the oil canister that was about to explode, suddenly calmed as a realization hit him. The Reverend...OF COURSE!!! Suddenly giddy with joy, Jarrek believed himself to have found the next avenue to the missing link, the reverend was part of the church, church and state were separate, freedom of speech, press, religion, it was PERFECT! "GOD BLESS AMERICA AND THE U.S. CONSTITUTION!!!" Jarrek was practically weeping with joy at this sudden epiphany, lacking any empathy at the damage he caused or the lives he nearly ruined, and completely oblivious to the detective inside the pizza shop. Shoving past his second near accidental kill of the day he hastily approached the Reverend.

"Jarrek Garrethorn, Millington Post, do you have any comments on the sudden disappearance of Mr. Reese and his youngest daughter?!" In ten seconds flat Jarrek had gone from pissed to invasive and he was not above listing off potential kidnappers. He didn't care who they were, so long as they were exposed, whether it was ISIS, the KKK or hell even the goddamn Canadians; where do they got off having free health care?

@Snagglepuss89 @The Muse @Katthaj