Post by Luca Wolfraine on Aug 20, 2010 16:43:21 GMT -5
LUCAGREGORYWOLFRAINE
“Calm, casual, deceptive.”
• • ON A STORMY SEA OF MOVING EMOTION,
general information
FULL NAME: Luca Gregory Christopher Wolfraine
NICKNAME: 'Wolfie', 'Hawk-eyes', 'Lucky-Luke' 'the Gambler'
AGE: Twenty-seven
SPECIES: Human
GENDER: Male
ORIENTATION: Bisexual
OCCUPATION:Hunter
• • TOSSED ABOUT I’M LIKE A SHIP ON THE OCEAN,
physical narrative
FACE CLAIM: Billie Jo Armstrong
SKIN: Of Caucasian heritage, Luca's naturally pale skin is fairly sallow from daily sun exposure, tanned to a light gold-brown tone.
EYES: Argueably his most striking feature; until you actually see them for yourself, that is. His folks could have claimed them to be a light, very pale green until the cows came home, but with age the irises have darkened until there is no controversy about it. Luca's eyes are yellow. Yellow as a hawk's, and just as intimidating when he's angry. As unusual as they are, though, there's nothing supernatural about it; his Russian grandfather had yellow eyes, too, though they were not as distinctive as Luca's. Regardless of that fact, they still make him stand out like a sore thumb and attract unwanted attention; Luca often wears sunglasses or contact lenses to conceal them in public.
HAIR: Black as the feathers on a raven's wing, naturally tousled and slightly spiky due to the fact that it rarely ever comes into contact with a comb, Luca's hair is just long enough to - in combination with his jacket collar - cover his vulnerable area; that is, the base of his skull and the back of his neck.
HEIGHT: Not small, but by no means a giant either; Luca stands at the comfortable compromise of six feet, which is enough for him to be considered completely valid overall for the popular - if slightly clichéd - 'tall, dark and handsome' stereotype.
BODY TYPE:Lean and toned. Luca's no muscle-massed boxser, but years of being put in dangerous situations means that he is by no means scrawny either. He keeps his body tuned and in shape by regular exercise and - somewhat - sensible eating habits. Overall, for a thin-looking guy Luca is bloody strong, and he knows it.
• • I SET A COURSE FOR WINDS OF FORTUNE,
character behavior
LIKES:
- Motercycles: speed, manouverability, speed... They're not exactly practical for hunting trips, but they're sure as Hell convenient when it comes to high-speed chases.
- Being prepared: Paint, a shovel, some salt and a lighter can go a long way when you know what you're dealing with. Luca's good at improvising in a difficult situation, but he'd rather not be put in that kind of position in the first place if he can help it.
- Chocolate: What? It's chocolate!
- Research: 'You learn something new every day. One day you might learn you're screwed, but hey! At least you'll learn something.'
- Improving: ' if they can't change, that's their problem. If you can't change, that's your death warrant.' Luca's always interested trying new things in order to adapt and improve himself. Not only does it keep him from becoming set in his ways and getting blindsided, but it also makes him that little bit more difficult to predict.
- Gambling: It's a sin for a reason. A wad of cash, a watch, a car, a life... Luca's a risk-taker at heart, and though he's attracted to the danger and addicted to the thrill, he knows it's only because his investments haven't screwed him over yet. 'I'm not skilled... I'm just ridiculously lucky. And everyone knows, luck doesn't last.'
- His eyes: ' Not that I'm vain, or anything... But damn, they're badass.' He's got a point there.
- Tricks: Teasing, flirting, practical jokes, fraud... The challenge, the conquest for a reaction is irresistable. However innocent or not-so innocent it may be, Luca enjoys dishing it out... Especially when it's dished right back.
- Control: not outright, giving orders control, but yeah... Luca likes being able to pull some strings when it comes to his destiny.
DISLIKES:
- Snow: It's wet. It's cold. And it usually accompanies ice.
- Smoking: Death-sticks, anyone?
- Insects: 'Small, pesky little buggers trying to eat me alive...'
- Fish: Not that he won't eat it if he's hungry, but...
- Demons: Does this one need an explanation?
- Hypocrites: Well, he may lie as easily as he breathes, but Luca himself never scorned others for doing the same.
- Racism: He just doesn't see why the amount of melanin in a person's skin is such a big deal.
- Politics: The most powerful are the most corrupted, as a rule. Of course, there are exceptions to every rule, but that isn't usually the case where the problem of wealth over truth is involved.
STRENGTHS:
- Resourceful: Luca's the quiet genius kind of person, the kind of person who always has something else up his sleeve. If he can't go over, he'll go under...
- Faithful: some may not see this as a strength, but Luca believes in God and prays often, to repent for his sins and ask guidance. It's a tentative thing, but it gives him strength.
- Attractive: Shallow as it may be, but it's a generally acknowledged fact that if you're good-looking, you're more likely to get what you want (in all senses of the word...)
- Opportunistic: " ' What if you were being burnt alive, and someone handed you a gun?' ''I'd shoot the men with the torches.' " Luca never truly concedes defeat; even in the most extreme of circumstances that rebellious little spark remaines. The second he gets the chance to reach his goal, he seizes it and doesn't let go.
- Loyal: For all his bravado and casual friendliness, Luca doesn't actually connect with people that easily. But when you earn his trust and respect, you earn his loyalty, and Luca's the kind of person who, when it comes down to it, will give up everything for those he considers to be family.
WEAKNESSES:
- Curious: Curiosity killed the cat... But will satisfaction bring it back?
- Impulsive: The kind of person who shoots first, asks questions later; unsurprisingly, this trait has got him into trouble on numerous occasions.
- Dishonest: 'Me? I'm dishonest. And a dishonest man, you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly!' Even when there's no need for lies, Luca can't resist witholding a few key points in order to stay on top. He never gives a straight answer; if you want the truth from Luca, you're going to have to work for it.
- Lonely: No partner, no lover, few friends... It's a depressing thing, solitude. Sometimes you feel that no one would miss you if you were gone...
- Women: They can be malicious, lying vixens, he knows. Yet Luca can't help but let them get a bit closer than he should...
FEARS:
- The unknown: Luca doesn't like not knowing what will happen. The illusion of control is shattered, his psychological masks useless, his vulnerability as a mere mortal exposed for all to see.
- Death: The world's most terminal condition. It's imminent. It's everywhere. And eventually, it will get him in its fatal grip.
- Hell: well, technically he's broken enough commandments...
- Torture: It's not just the pain... It's the imminent knowledge that at some point, sooner or later, you're going to break.
- Failure: For all his risk-taking, carefree facades, Luca dreads the moment where things will go wrong and he loses control.
POWERS & ABILITIES: 'Does the ability to lie my pants off and look good doing it count as an ability?'
• • BUT I HEAR THE VOICES SAY,
personal record
FAMILY:
- Gregory - father - alcoholic - deceased
- Serena - mother - blissfully unaware - teacher
Rose and Peter - grandparents - irritable - retired hunters
HISTORY:
Childhood: Luca grew up in Michegan, Detroit. His parents had an unhappy marriage, and while Serena remained untouched and unaware, Luca occasionally bore the brunt of her husband's foul moods. His mother refused to believe her son was being beaten, and his father carried on drinking like a fish whenever she wasn't around. Divorce often came up whenever they argued, but was never actually carried out. Luca grew up with three simple life lessons taught to him by his broken home life:
One: telling the truth isn't important.
Two: alcohol makes things worse, not better.
Three: the only person you can truly rely on is yourself.
Luca quickly became adept at putting up a mask for his mother; though he loved her, he could not confide in her, and such bitter awareness of that fact made him become less and less likely to ask her for anything. Instead, as soon as he learnt to drive he spent most of his time at his grandparents' large house. The night of his eighteenth birthday, he moved in with them. His communications with his parents gradually shrank from weekly visits to monthly visits, to infrequent phone calls...
The hunting: When Luca found a worn old journal stuffed with newspaper clippings, notes on omens and factfiles on freaky monsters and how to kill them, needless to say he became a tad bit skeptical as to whether his grandfather was perfectly sane. More 'investigating' revealed guns, stakes, a ridiculous stash of salt and other weird objects all stored in the basement that was always locked - until Luca picked the lock, that was. Ignoring the fact that he'd been snooping he'd confronted his grandparents about it.
He didn't like the outcome. Believing in God was one thing, but believing in wendigos and wraiths and evil spirits was just silly.
Or was it? Luca stole the journal, and kept his distance from his grandparents in case they had a psychotic break. He scoured the newspapers until he found something similar to a case in the journal.
Thus, Luca was on his first hunt. Unsurprisingly, it didn't go down very well. After getting the living shit beaten out of him and escaping with his life - barely - Luca spent the next couple of weeks patching himself up and getting his head over the fact that 'yeah. This shit is real.' Despite determinedly refusing to involve himself any more the world of the supernatural that his grandparents were apparently so familiar with, Luca kept noticing ominous signs and anomalies that the general public were oblivious to. Eventually, he went back to his grandfather's old hunting journal, and tossed constant queries over the dinner table. His grandmother was particularly concerned - it was evident that this was a fixation and not a fleeting interest - and both her and her husband worried over their grandson's safety; it wasn't wise for someone his age to focus on romanticised visions on the road over a practical, money-earning future, and Luca tended to hunt alone. These concerns were voiced, and resulted in several arguements.
At the age of twenty one, Luca packed his things and left in the middle of the night.
The gambling: The years on the road were tough for Luca; money was difficult to come by, and there was never enough to cover food, injuries, fuel, a place to sleep... Often he slept in his car, on the side of the road. There were many bad days, days where he hadn't a cent and no one to lean on. At one particularly extreme low, Luca went three days without food, and had to drink tap water from public restrooms. On multiple occasions he considered going back to Michegan, back to his grandparent's house - the closest thing he knew to home - but pride and lack of fuel conspired against such a sensible option.
So Luca adapted. He learnt to lie, he learnt to steal, and most importantly...
He learned to cheat.
All three were skills any high school student had attempted to use at some point, but this time around it wasn't for a dare or to score high in a test or to avoid detention. This time around, Luca needed them to survive. That proved to be a very good motivator; he learned quickly, and within a few months he was sleeping in on half-decent matresses and eating three square meals a day on a regular basis. The 'job' got easier once he was well-rested and well-fed, and Luca got beaten up less often. There was still the odd rough patch where he found he couldn't afford a room or had injuries that demanded professional medical attention (gunshots and broken limbs, pesky things that they are) but overall, Luca was doing better.
He was on his way up, on his way to being a recognised and experienced hunter.
• • CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SON,
the face behind the mask
ALIAS: Evil Little Leprechaun
OTHER ACCOUNTS: None as of yet
HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN ROLE PLAYING: Three years
WHERE DID YOU FIND US: The Extermination (canine rpg)
ROLE PLAY SAMPLE: (latest post from Extermination; Scáth; average post)
Being pack Beta was an important role. To be basically second in command, taking direct orders only from the alpha herself, was an honor and a luxury some dogs would kill for. Overall, it was a vital duty and something to be taken seriously.
Unless, of course, you were Scáth.
The Metnal Beta was currently proving himself to be - yet again - the exception to the tacit label that his packmates had so ruthlessly carved out for themselves over time; as opposed to giving orders, patrolling borders, hunting for the pack or any other sensible, relevant task, the sinister Dutch Shepherd had chosen to indulge in a nice and most definitely unprofessional snooze.
The black-brindle lay on his side, basking in the shade near the roots of a large Horse-chestnut tree, the image of relaxation. It was, of course, at a time when no one else was in the vicinity; no one to chastise him for sleeping on the job - not that many apart from Erida herself would be bold enough to dare do so - and no one to take advantage of this rare occasion where the infamous, unpredictable canine had his guard down.
Supposedly. Off guard or not, Scáth could still strike as fast as a snake when provoked, and those jaws were the reputable 'jaws of death' that made would-be challengers keep their distance.
However, it was not the 'jaws of death' that roused Scáth from his rather comfortable nap with the warning of intruders. The Shepherd's sharp nose caught the fresh scents with the change in wind direction; his sleepy subconscious named listed them off out of habit. KIyoko... Chantal, Ondrea... Thorn... Typhoon...
Scáth's burgundy eyes snapped open.
Typhoon. Huh.
The Dutch Shepherd gave a short yawn and stretched, slowly rising up into an square, alert sit to scent the air again. There were other scents, too; scents he could not match names or faces to. Like Typhoon, though, they carried the distinct pack stench. Barzakh... Or something like that. Scáth had never been great at remembering the names of small little gangs, as usually he gave them a more fitting - at least, in his mind - nickname. Regardless, it did not matter.
"Team Neutral's in town at last, I guess, and making friends with Loony-beau and the pup squad... That's probably not a good thing."
Scáth considered whether he should go back to sleep. However, the situation at hand - and there was undoubtedly a situation, his canine intuition insisted - was unknown, involved Typhoon and three of the Metnal pups as well as an enemy pack, and was bound to be more interesting than living down to his dangerous reputation and up to his age. Five years was, after all, very much an adult age; not many dogs lived that long. Certainly not many were in as good a condition as Scáth.
Additionally, Erida would doubtless be furious if he turned a blind eye, and he didn't want the hassle of having her on his back yet again. He'd been treading thin ice enough lately.
"So, scout-out mission it is. This should be fun..."
Scáth rose smoothly to his feet and limped casually in the direction of the scents, keeping downwind. They weren't that far, and he'd rather get a good look before making his presence known and being put in a position where he'd actually have to do something.
Why did the enemies always invade when it was sunny?
