Post by adrian blakes on Apr 23, 2009 13:33:07 GMT -8
ADRIAN GALON BLAKES
[/font]AFTER NINETY SEVEN YEARS OF HIDING THE TRUTH,
THIS HYBRID CAN'T HELP THE GUILT[/color][/font]
have I failed my daughter?
Then let the father die
And let the monster rise
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LET'S TAKE THESE LINES[/b][/size]
AND DRAW OURSELVES OUT OF HERE
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the basics[/center][/font]
FULL NAME[/b]
Adrian Galon Blakes
NICKNAMES[/b]
Rian, Adri, Blakes
AGE[/b]
97
BIRTHDAY[/b]
October 31st
RACE[/b]
Half- Angel
OCCUPATION[/b]
Bartender
SEXUALITY[/b]
Straight
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[/font]THIS SHIPWRECK SET-SAIL [/b][/size]
TONIGHT THEY'LL HELP TO FIND A WAY
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the appearance[/center][/font]
EYE DETAILS[/b]
Right Eye: A pale green that’s almost white
Left Eye: A dark brown that’s almost black
HAIR DETAILS[/b]
A mix of browns usually kept in a short messy cut
HEIGHT[/b]
6’8
WEIGHT[/b]
210 lbs.
BUILD[/b]
Very well built. Fit and healthy with extra muscle packed onto his frame. Long legs and a slightly slender waist with broad shoulders.
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES[/b]
Two tattoos of wings running from the base of his wrists and up his forearms.
PLAY-BY[/b]
Josh Hartnett
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[/font]WHEN ALL IS SAID AND DONE[/b][/size]
WORDS CAN BREATHE MORE LIFE THAN DEATH
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the personality[/center][/font]
POWERS[/b]
Being half angel, Adrian has most of the powers that the angels do. He is able to shimmer and shift from one place to another.
He also has a certain glow around him that can grow brightly, hurting demons, but can't glow to the extrent that the angels do. Along with this he can slightly control light to the point were he can make itt glow brighter than normal.
Adrian also has the angels amazing strength, probably more stronger as he doesn't have the wings that most half angels do.
He can also talk to the dead through medium ship.
Every time that adrian uses this power, the spirits voice becomes forever lodged in his brain. The more times he uses this power, the more voices he hears. Sometimes spirits are melded together and adrian gets a number of voices at a time that later fade away as the true spirit is sifted out. Sometimes the noise grows so loud, the adrian can't hear anything around him and his head feels like it will explode. This usually happens when he is overwhelmed by emotions.
On top of this, Adrain has a great gift and curse. Whenever he touches someone, whether it be human, alien or demon or angel, their life force and energy start to drain away and transfer into Adrian in a painful process.
STRENGTHS[/b]
his strength
his determination
his power
his walls
the free people
holy objects
WEAKNESSES[/b]
You cut him, he bleeds,
children
powerful demons
his desires
his memorys
his daughter
OVERALL PERSONALITY[/b]
A long time ago, Adrian used to be a very happy go lucky man. With his wife and his young daughter, he was sure that nothing in the world could tear him apart. Well he was wrong. Now for the most part Adrian is a weak shell of the man he used to be, tending to live in hate and anger for the most of his life.
adrian is not the type to go out and seek the company of others outside of his work. There are a few people that he doesn't mind being around but for the most part he keeps to himself. Mostly drawn in within himself, adrian can hold a conversation, save for when ordered and is self-reliant and will almost never seek out the advice of others, preferring to look to himself for his answers.Most of the time his haunted, piercing eyes chase a person away.
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[/font]THE INNER SENSE OF PEOPLE[/b][/size]
TOUCHING ON SECRETS, LETTING DOWN HAIR
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the history[/center][/font]
PARENTS[/b]
Grandfather: God
Father: Arch Angel Gabriel before his fall
Mother: Jennifer Blakes
SIBLINGS[/b]
N/A
CHILDREN[/b]
Shilo Wycliffe
SIGNIFICANT OTHER[/b]
Ex: Meele Wycliffe
NATIONALITY[/b]
American?
HOMETOWN[/b]
New York, NY
CURRENT RESIDENCE[/b]
Where ever he can find a place
OVERALL HISTORY[/b]
A long time ago, Angels roamed the earth disguised as humans. One of these angels was Gabriel, the Will of God. For a long time, the angels wandered the lands of this planet, protecting the humans from making deals with demons. Unfourtunatly, the angels couldn’t save themselves from the temptations of human flesh. So things happened and Gabriel found himself in love with a human woman. They loved each other and Gabriel found the secret of his identity to be weighing heavily on his mind. So he left.[/size][/font]
A few months later, a son was born. His mother, not knowing how to care for what he was, left him at the foot of a old monestary. In his 40th year of life, a iching started to form at the back of his neck. He had watched friends grow old and die and he not changed from his late 20's. What was wrong with him? So one night in his praying, Gabriel appeared before his son, reveling the truth of his origins and his powers unpone him. And so for the next few odd years, Adrian hid himself away in the monestary and learned to control his powers, his agelessness starting to scare the residence of the church and starting to become less hideable.
So at the age of 70, Adrian finally decided to leave the monestary. Reading the newspapers and watching the world from his window, he knew exactly what had been happening in he world and finally knew that it was his time to go and help people in anyway he could. One of these ways was as a bar tender. At first he was slightly uncomfortable in the gentleman's club, but soon he realised that this was were he needed to be. Mainly because of a woman name Meele. It was one night after she had gone to see teh boss and had come out broken and slightly bruised. The boss of the place was a harsh man towards women, believing them nothing more than rocks for men's pleasure. Of course Adrian was here to change that, but he couldn't help himself as he saw her stumble out of the man's office. And things went on from there.
Adrian thought they had the perfect life. When they had both worked up enough money, they left the gentleman's clun to start their own buisness. A nice little cafe were they would be happy. Of course no one is happy forever. It all started when Meele got pregnant. At first everything was normal, but soon the baby started growing at a rapid pase. Slightly freaked out, Meele believed that they were going to lose their child. Of course her mental state didn't help the baby at all and soon both of them feel ill. Realising that he could help using his powers, Adrian started to pray believing that his father and his grandfather wouldn't allow him to be unhappy. So he try'd to help them by placing energy inside of them. But this wasn't God's intended plan.
Meele died, and Adrian was left with his small sickly daughter to raise. For the first few years, Adrian was twisted and hallow, becoming the shell of the man he is now. At the age of 7 though, his daughter was left at a monestary to fend for herself like he was. But then, the demonic invasion started and everything went to hell. Not caring about anything anymore, Adrian didn't fight on either side as the earth sucumbed to the will of Hell. But then Adrian saw something that tore him apart worse than the death of his love. His daughter tearing the souls of humans apart. HIs daughter had become a demon
From them on, Adrian has gone back to bartending swearing that he would get his daugher back no matter what the cost.
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[/font]I SEE THEM ON YOUR FACE[/b][/size]
SO THIS IS WHERE THE PROMISE BREAKS
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the out of character[/center][/font]
NAME / ALIAS[/b]
Mikey or Mike
GENDER[/b]
Male
CONTACT INFO[/b]
buttons-that-go-meep@hotmail.com
HOW'D YOU FIND US?[/b]
got the url from Angel
OTHER CHARACTERS[/b]
viktor dark
ROLEPLAYING SAMPLE[/b]
from a different site
Behind closed doors was a phrase that was held highly in his opinion. Rooms were probably the only place were people could be themselves. It was like a piece of their private mind laid out for the world to see. Of course when you were a slave, your private mind was open for the whole entire coven to see and it was almost forbidden to have your door locked while you inside it. Most of the times it was almost a certain beating if you didn't. Despite these warnings, Marshal still stalked down the hallway in his normal galloping walk and slammed his door shut, making enough noise to wake the dead, then turned on his heel and threw the dead bolt into place.
Clawing at his long hair, Marshal spun around to face the interior of his room, looking for anything that he could horribly mangle with his hands. The head of the slave department wasn't going to happy with him if he destoryed all of his furniture. Again. But he couldn't get the image of Cooper and his little love sick puppy out of his mind. how the mutt had actually threatened, THREATHENED him!! Trying to breathe deep, Marshal failed and launched himself towards a nightstand that lay the closest to him. Growling he picked it up and threw across the room, it hitting another table and a satifsying wooden crack filling the air. But it wasn't good enough.
The Bleeder needed more things to break. A many variety of things found his hands as he tore through his room, a wave of destruction in his wake. The motions were all a blur to him, but his thoughts were disappering. After what seemed like a few minutes, Marshal stood in the middle of his room, breathing heavily a mask of hatred on his face and a fire poker in his hands. The cold steel felt good in his grip and Marshal sighed out, running another hand through his hair as he turned to face the wall length mirror that threw Marshal reflection back at him.
There were feathers in his hair and his clothes were starting to rip around the edges. His shirt was gonna have to be replaced as a rather large gash showed his chest underneath. But his gaze stopped at his arms. Covered in tiny pencil sized scars, they were long mangled things that were attached to his shoulder. He looked up at his face again, finally realizing the toll that Bleeding was taking on him. The hallows in his cheeks were deepening slightly and the bags underneath his eyes were getting darker. A snarl ripped through Marshals throat and with a grunt, he heaved the poker in both hands and grin cruelly as the shatter of glass filled the air.
Hundreds of shards of mirriors sent his reflection back at him a thousandfold, and standing in the middle of the destruction, Marshal finally found the release he was looking for. Breathing in, feeling his shoulder's drop, Marshal dragged himself over to one of the ripped and mangled couches and let himself fall onto it. A small pain in his hand made him grimance and reached over to pull the object in his hand out. A shard of glass.
As he pulled it free, red blood oozing from the wound. This was the reason he was in his place. Why his arms were covered in scars. He had spent his whole life giving his blood for those creatures, and here he sat in his room, wasting it. Marshal blinked and before he could help it, started to laugh. At first it started with a low chuckle but soon it was wild and untamed laughter. He needed to get out, he needed to be free. Cutting his laughter up, Marshal pushed himself up from the couch and was slightly surpised to see someone standing behind him, a few piece of the broken mirror showing him their reflection. Marshal turned to face them and crossed his arms, holding his bleeding hand against his side, standing proud amongst the chaos of his once tidy room.
Clawing at his long hair, Marshal spun around to face the interior of his room, looking for anything that he could horribly mangle with his hands. The head of the slave department wasn't going to happy with him if he destoryed all of his furniture. Again. But he couldn't get the image of Cooper and his little love sick puppy out of his mind. how the mutt had actually threatened, THREATHENED him!! Trying to breathe deep, Marshal failed and launched himself towards a nightstand that lay the closest to him. Growling he picked it up and threw across the room, it hitting another table and a satifsying wooden crack filling the air. But it wasn't good enough.
The Bleeder needed more things to break. A many variety of things found his hands as he tore through his room, a wave of destruction in his wake. The motions were all a blur to him, but his thoughts were disappering. After what seemed like a few minutes, Marshal stood in the middle of his room, breathing heavily a mask of hatred on his face and a fire poker in his hands. The cold steel felt good in his grip and Marshal sighed out, running another hand through his hair as he turned to face the wall length mirror that threw Marshal reflection back at him.
There were feathers in his hair and his clothes were starting to rip around the edges. His shirt was gonna have to be replaced as a rather large gash showed his chest underneath. But his gaze stopped at his arms. Covered in tiny pencil sized scars, they were long mangled things that were attached to his shoulder. He looked up at his face again, finally realizing the toll that Bleeding was taking on him. The hallows in his cheeks were deepening slightly and the bags underneath his eyes were getting darker. A snarl ripped through Marshals throat and with a grunt, he heaved the poker in both hands and grin cruelly as the shatter of glass filled the air.
Hundreds of shards of mirriors sent his reflection back at him a thousandfold, and standing in the middle of the destruction, Marshal finally found the release he was looking for. Breathing in, feeling his shoulder's drop, Marshal dragged himself over to one of the ripped and mangled couches and let himself fall onto it. A small pain in his hand made him grimance and reached over to pull the object in his hand out. A shard of glass.
As he pulled it free, red blood oozing from the wound. This was the reason he was in his place. Why his arms were covered in scars. He had spent his whole life giving his blood for those creatures, and here he sat in his room, wasting it. Marshal blinked and before he could help it, started to laugh. At first it started with a low chuckle but soon it was wild and untamed laughter. He needed to get out, he needed to be free. Cutting his laughter up, Marshal pushed himself up from the couch and was slightly surpised to see someone standing behind him, a few piece of the broken mirror showing him their reflection. Marshal turned to face them and crossed his arms, holding his bleeding hand against his side, standing proud amongst the chaos of his once tidy room.
