Post by Rumanic Depressive on Apr 27, 2008 19:14:21 GMT -5
Application
Real Name:
Tuesday
Nickname:
Pink (as in Pink Foyd)
Age:
16
Birthday:
Sept. 6th 1991
Appearance
Height:
6ft 8in
Weight:
168lbs
Hair:
bright orange
Eyes:
stunning blue
Skin Tone:
almost white
Body Details:
His body is slim, but hiked with wiry muscles that flex underneath his ripped fishnet shirt and baggy pants. He keeps his face straight and clear of all emotions. His arms and legs and chest and stomach are littered with scars from his past, which he has tried to forge
Picture:
Personality
History:
Rumanic was born to a huge family of two parents...and 16 brothers and sister, him being the only child. The Depressives were the richest family in the town and their huge 400 acre plot of land was guarded by a 20ft high wrought iron fence that had huge metal spikes all aroudn the top. Over half the grounds was a wild forest that was teeming with wild animals, this was Rumanic's domain. He ran throughout the forests with the animals and knew ever step, every stone, every log, by heart. When the gas hit, All of the Depressive adults were killed by various STD's, the children ran wild, most of them retreating into the Depressive mansion and not coming out. They were killed when they ran out of food and were to scared to go out and get it for themselves.
Only Rumanic servived out of his entire family, and for months he walked around the house, living in a fantasy world where he was the eldest son and he was about to inherit the Depressive fortune. He ordered imaginary maids and servants around, eating berries and fish that he had caugh on the grounds. He went to hunting expiditions to get deer and rabbits to cook over the open fire until he hunted the Depressive land dry. There were no more fish, no more berries until next Spring, and no more deer.
It was then that Rumanic decided to try his luck with the outside world. It couldn't have been any differant from his cozy little reality inside the grounds. Right? Wrong. Rumanic ventured out of the huge gates, carrying the key to get back in and a heavy trench coat and immediently ran into Sodium, He tried to join them, not knowing that they were murdering murauders. They beat the ever-loving crap out oif him and then left him to die. Lithium found him and they gave him a bite to eat and he asked to join their gang, he offered his mansion for a base, the descision is still out on that. [That was an offer]
Personality:
Rumanic was always raised as the typical middle child. If all middle children are filthy rich and they never get any attention from their parents. He grew up without making contact with his brothers and sisters unless he had to and he learned to do a lot of stuff without adults. It takes a lot to get a rise out of Rumanic, but when you do, he can be brutal. He acts like he's the king of the world and if you disagree with him, he will argue until you see it his way. Rumanic is very determined and never gives up for anything.
Weakness:
He does not take orders well, he is not good in large crowds
Good Points: He can take charge, his head is clear in the toughest situations.
Bad Points:
He has a general uppity attitude.
Other Details:
nothing that I can think of.
Other Details
Sample Rp:
I brough this in from another site, I hope that's okay.
Where You Got This Site/Who told you about this site: Angel High
Requests:
none whatsoever
Real Name:
Tuesday
Nickname:
Pink (as in Pink Foyd)
Age:
16
Birthday:
Sept. 6th 1991
Appearance
Height:
6ft 8in
Weight:
168lbs
Hair:
bright orange
Eyes:
stunning blue
Skin Tone:
almost white
Body Details:
His body is slim, but hiked with wiry muscles that flex underneath his ripped fishnet shirt and baggy pants. He keeps his face straight and clear of all emotions. His arms and legs and chest and stomach are littered with scars from his past, which he has tried to forge
Picture:
Personality
History:
Rumanic was born to a huge family of two parents...and 16 brothers and sister, him being the only child. The Depressives were the richest family in the town and their huge 400 acre plot of land was guarded by a 20ft high wrought iron fence that had huge metal spikes all aroudn the top. Over half the grounds was a wild forest that was teeming with wild animals, this was Rumanic's domain. He ran throughout the forests with the animals and knew ever step, every stone, every log, by heart. When the gas hit, All of the Depressive adults were killed by various STD's, the children ran wild, most of them retreating into the Depressive mansion and not coming out. They were killed when they ran out of food and were to scared to go out and get it for themselves.
Only Rumanic servived out of his entire family, and for months he walked around the house, living in a fantasy world where he was the eldest son and he was about to inherit the Depressive fortune. He ordered imaginary maids and servants around, eating berries and fish that he had caugh on the grounds. He went to hunting expiditions to get deer and rabbits to cook over the open fire until he hunted the Depressive land dry. There were no more fish, no more berries until next Spring, and no more deer.
It was then that Rumanic decided to try his luck with the outside world. It couldn't have been any differant from his cozy little reality inside the grounds. Right? Wrong. Rumanic ventured out of the huge gates, carrying the key to get back in and a heavy trench coat and immediently ran into Sodium, He tried to join them, not knowing that they were murdering murauders. They beat the ever-loving crap out oif him and then left him to die. Lithium found him and they gave him a bite to eat and he asked to join their gang, he offered his mansion for a base, the descision is still out on that. [That was an offer]
Personality:
Rumanic was always raised as the typical middle child. If all middle children are filthy rich and they never get any attention from their parents. He grew up without making contact with his brothers and sisters unless he had to and he learned to do a lot of stuff without adults. It takes a lot to get a rise out of Rumanic, but when you do, he can be brutal. He acts like he's the king of the world and if you disagree with him, he will argue until you see it his way. Rumanic is very determined and never gives up for anything.
Weakness:
He does not take orders well, he is not good in large crowds
Good Points: He can take charge, his head is clear in the toughest situations.
Bad Points:
He has a general uppity attitude.
Other Details:
nothing that I can think of.
Other Details
Sample Rp:
I brough this in from another site, I hope that's okay.
Hannibal smiled and let a chuckle escape his mouth when he heard Dr. Morgan recite his personal history. This is very interesting. And to think, I was just going to eat her. Eh, she's a little skinny, probably not a very good meal, though she does seem to be able to blush quite a bit. He was laughing for a reason that nobody under the age of three-hundred could understand: he had been around long enough to see many changes in the human race, but their essence never changed.
Hannibal closed his long fingers around her curled hand and sat down again. "You're delusional. Dr. Hannibal Lecter died centuries ago and was deemed clinically insane before he did. Granted he had a great deal of insight when it came to serial killers and sociopaths... I would dare to go as far to say that without him criminal psychological profiling of such persons wouldn't be nearly as proficient as it is today. He was a pioneer so to speak, however it was later revealed that his knowledge and insight came from his own level of insanity. It's not humanly possible that you are he." He laughed again. "You are not a very good hostage, Dr. Morgan. One rule of thumb, do NOT call your captor delusional. It's just not polite, and it doesn't make a very good insentive for said captor, to keep you alive. Not that I loose my control that easily." Hannibal was making her sweat, and he could smell fear on her. Her body posture screamed disbelief and he was intent on changed that.
"With that said if it were. If vampires existed and you the supposed Dr. Lecter were one that would explain a great deal and you would not be insane at all. It would mean that you were simply surviving. My only guess if that were the case is that you haven't kill me yet because as a fellow psychiatrist I'm a kindred spirit of sorts with my background in criminal profiling and I am one of the few human beings that would understand you. In essence you're lonely. In either case I'm not sure what prospect frightens me more being with a delusional schizophrenic homicidal sociopath or a lonely centuries old vampire with his lifelong work being in psychiatry." Hannibal immediently tensed every muscle in his body. His jaw was working and he was fighting not to clench his hands and crush her curled hand. He took several deep breaths, controlling himself enough not to loose it. "Dr. Morgan. I will not tolerate some wannabe psycho-annylist trying to delve into my mind. I am the foster father to a wonderful child, half vampire half human, named Kahen. I picked you up solely to entertain me. I will throw you back on the street if you insist on insulting me with this..." his voice was a hiss as he told the ignorant doctor off. He cut his rant off, one: because he couldn't go on without doing something, two: because he had to get up and leave this infuriating woman for a moment.
Hannibal got up abruptly, having to remind himself to let go on Kristiana's hand before standing to his full seven foot height. "If you value your pathetic life, you will forgive me for a moment. I have to do something. It would be very unwise for you to wander." His words were short and choppy, turing to ice as they left his lips. With that, Hannibal stalked out of his bedroom, leaving Kristiana alone in the small room.
Hannibal walked down the hall, fuming at the insolence of the girl in his bedroom. He was also angry because he had allowed himself to get angry. He had shown this doctor his weakness. He was not one of those lonely vampires, picking up girls just to get a quick job. How dare she think that. I mean, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! Is there no more faith in the world?! He came to a black door at the end of a secret-ish turnoff of the main hall, and opened the door. He swept into the dark room, there were no windows in this part of the house, and stripped off his jacket, exposing his thin, but muscled, white chest. Angry red welts from a long off fight stood out clearly on his stomach and sides. He tossed his shirt off to the side and went over to the punching back in the middle of the room. This was a normal punching bag, but it was reinforced with steel a few inches into the stuffing. The chain attaching it to the ceiling was reinforced steel, mixed with iron to keep it from flying off.
He stood absolutely still for about one minute, then attacked it with a fury that would have been impossible to have been contained in a human body.
Hannibal closed his long fingers around her curled hand and sat down again. "You're delusional. Dr. Hannibal Lecter died centuries ago and was deemed clinically insane before he did. Granted he had a great deal of insight when it came to serial killers and sociopaths... I would dare to go as far to say that without him criminal psychological profiling of such persons wouldn't be nearly as proficient as it is today. He was a pioneer so to speak, however it was later revealed that his knowledge and insight came from his own level of insanity. It's not humanly possible that you are he." He laughed again. "You are not a very good hostage, Dr. Morgan. One rule of thumb, do NOT call your captor delusional. It's just not polite, and it doesn't make a very good insentive for said captor, to keep you alive. Not that I loose my control that easily." Hannibal was making her sweat, and he could smell fear on her. Her body posture screamed disbelief and he was intent on changed that.
"With that said if it were. If vampires existed and you the supposed Dr. Lecter were one that would explain a great deal and you would not be insane at all. It would mean that you were simply surviving. My only guess if that were the case is that you haven't kill me yet because as a fellow psychiatrist I'm a kindred spirit of sorts with my background in criminal profiling and I am one of the few human beings that would understand you. In essence you're lonely. In either case I'm not sure what prospect frightens me more being with a delusional schizophrenic homicidal sociopath or a lonely centuries old vampire with his lifelong work being in psychiatry." Hannibal immediently tensed every muscle in his body. His jaw was working and he was fighting not to clench his hands and crush her curled hand. He took several deep breaths, controlling himself enough not to loose it. "Dr. Morgan. I will not tolerate some wannabe psycho-annylist trying to delve into my mind. I am the foster father to a wonderful child, half vampire half human, named Kahen. I picked you up solely to entertain me. I will throw you back on the street if you insist on insulting me with this..." his voice was a hiss as he told the ignorant doctor off. He cut his rant off, one: because he couldn't go on without doing something, two: because he had to get up and leave this infuriating woman for a moment.
Hannibal got up abruptly, having to remind himself to let go on Kristiana's hand before standing to his full seven foot height. "If you value your pathetic life, you will forgive me for a moment. I have to do something. It would be very unwise for you to wander." His words were short and choppy, turing to ice as they left his lips. With that, Hannibal stalked out of his bedroom, leaving Kristiana alone in the small room.
Hannibal walked down the hall, fuming at the insolence of the girl in his bedroom. He was also angry because he had allowed himself to get angry. He had shown this doctor his weakness. He was not one of those lonely vampires, picking up girls just to get a quick job. How dare she think that. I mean, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! Is there no more faith in the world?! He came to a black door at the end of a secret-ish turnoff of the main hall, and opened the door. He swept into the dark room, there were no windows in this part of the house, and stripped off his jacket, exposing his thin, but muscled, white chest. Angry red welts from a long off fight stood out clearly on his stomach and sides. He tossed his shirt off to the side and went over to the punching back in the middle of the room. This was a normal punching bag, but it was reinforced with steel a few inches into the stuffing. The chain attaching it to the ceiling was reinforced steel, mixed with iron to keep it from flying off.
He stood absolutely still for about one minute, then attacked it with a fury that would have been impossible to have been contained in a human body.
Where You Got This Site/Who told you about this site: Angel High
Requests:
none whatsoever
