Post by Danielle Maiker on Sept 19, 2010 10:40:00 GMT -5
FIRSTMIDDLELAST
“Determined, loyal, prankster”
• • ON A STORMY SEA OF MOVING EMOTION,
general information
FULL NAME: Danielle Vivian Maker
NICKNAME: Danny
AGE: 23
YEAR: 2006
SPECIES: Weredog
GENDER: Female
ORIENTATION: Straight
OCCUPATION: Hunter
• • TOSSED ABOUT I’M LIKE A SHIP ON THE OCEAN,
physical narrative
FACE CLAIM: Ellen Page
SKIN: Caucasian
EYES: Brown
HAIR: Brown
HEIGHT: 5’3”
BODY TYPE: Slim, toned, an rugged, but occasionally malnourished
• • I SET A COURSE FOR WINDS OF FORTUNE,
character behavior
LIKES:
-Dogs
-Hunting
-Knives
-Guns
-Collars (makes her feel secure and wanted for some reason)
-Cats
-Cherry Ice cream
-Steak
DISLIKES:
-Guns
-Knives
-Being shot at
-Demons
-Dog fighters
-The pound
-Being betrayed
-Being useless
STRENGTHS:
-Her shifting
-Her fast healing
-Her senses
-Her sense of humor
-Her fighting capabilities
WEAKNESSES:
-Her addiction to shifting
-Her reluctance to get close to people
-Her habit of needing to kill every bad thing she comes across, even if it means revealing herself to a hunter already on the job
-Her lack of fear, aka common sense when confronting the baddy on a hunt
-Tennis ballsDanny
FEARS:
-That she’ll never get to see her parents again
-That she’ll have to see her parents again, on the other side of the gun
-That she’ll never get close enough to someone to make that special, dog-human connection
-Getting too close to people
-Dying
POWERS & ABILITIES:
Danny is a weredog and that means she can shapeshift physically into a dog (in her case, a Catahoula Leopard Dog). This second form gives her extra speed, super awesome senses, super fast healing, and a good set of teeth. When she’s human, it makes her extra strong, extra fast, and a pretty awesome healer (though not quite as fast as when in her dog form). She has pretty good senses and an ability to sense other supernatural beings just as any dog would.
• • BUT I HEAR THE VOICES SAY,
personal record
FAMILY:
Father: Ronald Dodger ~ Deceased
Mother: Lillian Dodger ~ Deceased
Adoptive Father: Karl Hammer
Adoptive Mother: Vivian Hammer
HISTORY:
“A dog’s duty is to protect their human. That’s why we have to get you all trained up. We’re going to make you into the best dog you can be. Wouldn’t want a daughter of mine slacking off on the job.” His micro speech earned him a few gurgling sounds and a bright baby smile. “Oh Derek, don’t you think she’s a little young for training?” His wife wore an amused grin and he answered it with his own, turning to face her. He just wanted to make sure his little girl knew what she was, what it meant to be a dog. When the time came, she was going to have to decide which human she was going to attach herself to. It was their pack’s way. His own wife was human, an unexpected result of a rare and accepting mind.
It wasn’t like the average human accepted this. Humans who turned into dogs and considered themselves as much a dog as a human, sometimes even more so, tended to get more bad reactions than good. More often than not, it ended with screams and people turning tail (human and dog). Sometimes it even ended with the dog dead, killed by the hunters and civilians they were supposed to be protecting. It made him feel sick sometimes, but he knew what their duty was and he was determined to pass that sense of responsibility onto his pup.
“So what do you say we put the little pup to bed and go up for a little time of our own?” At these words, the dog perked up immediately and scooped up the giggling blob that was his infant daughter. He whisked her upstairs, cooing at her about how she was such a good girl. A bath and a bottle later, she was snug in bed. With his daughter snoring softly, he went and got the bed ready. His wife was downstairs, cleaning out the baby bottle for tomorrow’s use.
All at once, every hair along his spine pricked to attention. His nose was on overtime, senses working with peak intensity. Something was wrong. He was already rushing out the door when he heard the back door burst open…oh God. It was like someone had kicked it and it led straight into the kitchen. He started the stairs as a human and hit the bottom on all fours, a deep growl bursting from between his curled lips. He reach the kitchen at a full, sliding gallop only to be confronted with the sight of his wife pinned by another man, a knife at her throat. A moment later, he heard a bang, too soon for him to react. It hit him squarely between the eyes and he dropped to the floor. His wife struggled in the stranger’s arms, screaming. It didn’t even faze the stranger or his wife. A slit throat later and the hunting couple were standing alone in the kitchen of the weredog and his wife. The man shrugged at his wife and started to turn around.
Naturally, all that noise had woken a certain little baby. The man’s face suddenly darkened and his wife’s eyes furrowed with worry. By the time the two of them were standing over the bawling infant, she had made her decision. “We have to kill it.” His wife looked at him in shock. He pulled out the same knife that had earlier slit a woman’s throat. He raised it and his wife grabbed his arm. “No!” An eyeroll and a sigh later, he was looking at her with one of those, no you can’t keep it looks. But her face was already locked with determination.
Pretty soon they were back in their car with the baby bouncing on a knee and finally calming down. “So what are you going to name it?” He’d earned himself the look. “I don’t know what I’ll name her. You know, she might not turn. Her mother was human, after all.” He rolled his eyes. “That just means it will take longer, but you know it’s gonna happen.” That was how Danielle started her life as a hunter. No one ever told her what she was, but they sure as hell instilled a deep hatred of anything not human in her.
Danny always knew she was adopted. For one, the Maikers told her. Of course, their story was far from the truth. Her mother said little about it, but Karl almost took pleasure in telling her all about how weredogs had killed her parents. He was always so distant from her. Her mom told her it was just because of the job and the older she got, the more she believed it. She went through all the training typical to children brought up in the life. She stayed at all the same motels and ate the same greasy food (which she loved, of course). She was completely dedicated to her adoptive family and their life, just like any dog should be.
But something deep inside her told her that something was wrong. When hit puberty that feeling only deepened. Things started happened to her, things she didn’t want. She started barking and growling and sniffing at things. There was something inside her that just flowed out, burst out in an easy stream. And she didn’t know what it was but she wanted something so bad it hurt to not have it. For three months, she went on, trying to figure out what it was and doing her utmost to hide it from her parents. Of course, both of them noticed it. She was about as subtle as a runaway train in the middle of town.
At the age of thirteen, she had her first shift. She was so scared, so shocked, that she really didn’t know what to do about it. Her attitude quickly grew withdrawn. Her parents thought she was still just trying to hide the urges from them. Apparently, she’d at least been good enough to hide the shifting from them. It probably saved her life.
She started shifting more often and gaining some control. It freaked her out like nobody’s business, but if she didn’t find a way to control it, all that repression Karl had forced into her was going to cause an explosion on a nuclear scale. By the time the two parents she’d started shifting, she had already mastered it. Karl was furious, madder than she’d ever seen him before. Not even her mother could save her from this one and much to her dismay, the woman didn’t even try. He was going to kill her. He was going to kill her and her mother was just going to stand there and let it happen.
She ran. Danielle beat the crap out of him and ran. What else was she going to do? Survival is a powerful instinct. Of course, the guilt and the doubt were emotions she couldn’t escape. How could she have just turned on that man who’d taught her everything she’d known about her life? But how could he have just expected her to be some evil creature? Sure, she had lied to him and she had to admit that she liked shifting, but she hadn’t killed anyone, well at least not anyone human. She hunted the same things he did, right alongside her family. She did her job and protected every human to cross her path. Yet somehow, she was a monster, worthy of being put down.
It didn’t take long for all these emotions to push her down a dark path. Lost, alone, and ashamed of everything she was, she turned to the stronger will of her dog self. It wasn’t like she was numb as a dog, but the emotions were easier to deal with as a dog. She got addicted to the shifting, to the sheer impulsiveness of being a dog. For years, she spent more time as a dog than a human, even doing complete hunts as a dog. If something set her off, she’d practically jolt into her dog form no matter who was there. It was a hard ditch to climb out of. Alcoholics can throw booze away, druggies can be deprived of their chosen poison, but a shapeshifter addicted to shapeshifting has no escape. It took all of her will, but Danny was tough, she recovered from the blow of her parents’ betrayal and her addiction dissipated with time. It’s still something she deals with, but she’s not one to give in easily. Heck, Danielle took care of herself for a good portion of her childhood.
She grew up on the streets, still doing the job she’d been trained to do. By now, she’s overcome her struggles and her issues with shapeshifting. She’s lonely and she certainly has some trust issues, but at twenty-three, Danielle has grown into a decently well-adjusted young lady. She lives out of a pack, walks everywhere, and can hold her own in any situation.
• • CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SON,
the face behind the mask
ALIAS: Brie
OTHER ACCOUNTS: None
HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN ROLEPLAYING: Ten years
WHERE DID YOU FIND US: Top Sites
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE:
When it’s too quiet, it’s always way too quiet. Sniffing the air, Danny pricked up her ears, straining for the slightest sound. She’d been on this hunt for almost a week now, but another hunter had muscled in on it. She wasn’t sure, but she thought he might have seen her change. That was bad, very, very bad. She smelt human. It was him.
The rolling of a pebble caught her attention and she whipped around, only to find herself face to face with the business end of a semi automatic shotgun. Her mind was already screaming a number at her and she jumped out of the way just in time to avoid the first shot. Another one whizzed over her head as she bolted off into the forest. She could hear him start after her, but the forest was dark and there was no way he could see well enough to actually hit her without some kind of night vision goggles. Thank you nighttime.
Danny didn’t stop, she just kept running until she couldn’t hear or smell him anymore. Dammit! Why did this always have to happen?! She reminded herself that, for one, she was careless and two, most like her deserved death. Other hunters were not likely to be able or willing to tell the difference. Panting, she whined and looked back in his direction. She paced for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. She wanted that thing dead tonight, but this hunter probably thought she was that thing and they were both out here hunting. How was she going to get past hi—
Gunfire! Not hesitating for a second, Danielle kicked her heels and darted back in the direction of her would be killer. By the time she got there, the wendigo had him pinned to the ground, about ready to snap his neck. It was surprising he wasn’t dead already, considering, but she ignored that thought and launched forward with the power of her breed. The attack was silent, no growl, nor bark, not until she actually made contact with that son of a bitch. Digging her teeth right into its face, she let out a vicious growl. But just as quickly, she pushed off. Cow dogs know better than to hang on and get kicked, or in this case, slashed by razor sharp claws.
Baying at the now furious wendigo, she stood in front of the other hunter protectively. He was already bleeding and, thankfully, not in too much of a mood to protest her close proximity. She was already swiping her paws in the dirt to make protection symbols against the sucker. It let out a mighty screech and dove around. She barely turned in time to send a bark straight in its face.
For reasons unknown, but appreciated, the thing disappeared in a flash. Frigging roadrunner cannibals. She quickly carved out the rest of the symbols, making a nice protecty circle around her and the wounded hunter. When she turned he had his gun out, pointing at her warily.
