MIDGARSTRUM, Locke phythos

[cobra]

LOCKE PHYTHOS MIDGARSTRUM

....the mask

Your Name: Kye, would be quite fine.
Where did you find us?: Advertisement on Pantheon
How long have you been roleplaying?: 7+ Years
Password: [admin edit!][/i]

...basic character information

Birth Name: Locke Phythos Midgarstrum
Nickname: Phy, Slick, or Ven
Gender: Male
Age: Twenty-four
Birth date: 10/1/1986
Major: Bachelor of Social Science
Classes:

• Introduction to Psychology
  
• Foreign Language I
  
• Foreign Language II

Animal Identity: King Cobra (Ophiophagus hannah)

...personality

Likes:

• Men & Women – Locke is bisexual, however he does not stress this. In fact, it is mostly hidden from the students and faculty. That does not mean that he is ashamed of it, he will not deny it if it is asked. Most snakes are known to be the symbol of sexual freedom, he is no exception.
  
• Children
  
• Teaching
  
• Snakes
  
• Heat & Sunlight
  
• Competitions
  
• Languages
  
• Observing
  
• Meat
  
• Perfume & Cologne
  
• Praise
  
• Judgment
  
• Complexity
  
• Foreign Countries
  
• Sweets
  
• Mind Games
  
• Puzzles
  

Dislikes:

• Abuse
  
• Critique
  
• Commitment
  
• Water
  
• Immense Cold
  
• Mongooses
  
• Teen Angst
  
• Excuses
  
• Shallowness
  
• Pride
  
• Being Manipulated
  
• Hypocrites
  
• Close-mindedness

Fears:

• Death without meaning is something he tends to fear and avoid. He keeps himself as healthy as possible, constantly working out when he is not napping or teaching. He attempts to solve issues, and place himself in danger when the cause is noble and worth giving his life for.
  
• Immense cold and claustrophobia is something he’s disliked and feared since he was a little child. He will absolutely not go anywhere cold; even if it has the barest hint of snow—or anywhere too cramped. He is prone to having panic attacks if either of these things tend to happen.
  
• The past in general, he dislikes speaking of it unless he is near his councilor.
  
• Falling in love is always an iffy subject with him, trust is rough to come by—easy to break. He had found most people don’t like the idea of putting faith into a snake; it is just something he had to learn the hard way. Love is almost out of the question, especially if he cannot fully have faith in his said partner.

Strengths:

• Being limber and overly flexible is an aid he has gotten not only from constant training; but his bond with the snake shape shifting talent he’s inherited. He can bend to almost inhuman shapes, as well as dislodge his jaw in order to swallow large bits of food.
  
• Multilingual has its ups and downs, but mostly ups. He can speak in different languages, but his favorite (and most fluent) are English, French, Spanish, Russian, Japanese, and Mandarin Chinese.
  
• He’s absolutely, positively, sly with both words and body. He can talk in circles, in other words. Befuddling others to the point where they simply give up on asking him personal questions. Normally he refrains from using mind tricks, but he can be defensive about sensitive subjects.

Weaknesses:

• Has a very difficult time with trusting others, especially when he feels they do not trust him. He does not communicate well with those he is at odds with, and at times this can lead to confronting another individual. That normally ends very badly.
  
• While Locke is normally passive, if you press his buttons—there is no escape. He has an aggressive streak like no other animal, and will continue to strike when provoked. It is exceedingly dangerous, considering the venomous toxins that tend to lie dormant in his body. To put it bluntly, when challenged or in a state of feral rage; he will respectively strike out at an opponent (or opponents) which leads to fatigue or passing out. The only possible way to stop an attack is to force it, kill him, or allow himself to calm and have his mind shut-down for a little while.
  
• Family, Friends, and Lovers; all of which he will lay his life down for. If one threatens them, or hurts them—they are in for a world of pain, even if it causes Locke’s death in the process. If he were to lose someone close to him, there would be little doubt the guilt would consume him.

Overall:

Locke is a simple young man, with a complex web of emotions that has been tangled since the dawn of his birth. He is ambivalent. Completely aware, and yet unaware of his surroundings; as well as being borderline apathetic. The man can come off as cold, difficult, and yet so timid and easy-going that it is difficult to understand what regiment he is attempting to fulfill. Since he was young, Locke had suffered with his bodily image as well as communication with other individuals. Those that are like him still can have trouble dragging the serpent from under his rock. Locke likes few, and trusts even fewer. Stemming from his isolation, he still loathes but seeks silence, and instead of becoming a constant player within his school—he watches from the sidelines. A tender soul at heart, Locke can hold sympathy for many; though expressing it is another story. He is a supporting ally, friend, and teacher if one is so lucky as to appease him and maneuver the man to their side. Specifically issues dealing with family then to trigger something within him. Seeing abuse, or any other sort of parental abandonment turns his stomach; as he can be excessively protective of those who have gained his faith. Especially when they are students.

Locke does not really hold preference on male or female, nor does he seemingly have much desire to instigate passion. Despite being old enough, he has not chosen a lover and doesn’t (for now) wish too; being the type to diverge himself from any sort of loving commitment. He treats both with respect, and is slightly more protective over females; passive with males. The way he views children is simply how one who would treat a younger brother or sister; although he tends to wing it, even if somehow it feels natural for him. His attachment platonically is stronger then that of what would believe sexual bonding would be. Locke tends to place more emphasis on friendships over that of having true relationships; his pessimistic view towards others steers him in that direction. But if his heart is won, it simply must evolve from a friendship; there is little chance that simple lust would turn into desire.

He holds a natural sheen of brightness, and relies heavily on his raw instinct as well as underlining feelings of what is right and wrong. If he feels injustice has been served; Locke will fight tooth and nail against it. Rarely is there ever any violence in his (supposedly) docile bones, but as anyone would; he defends and attacks when his back is up against the wall. On a darker note, he is extremely venomous and knows it—one bite or prolonged exposure to an onslaught of toxin within his animal form would be fatal for many. There are many buttons on him that can cause an immensely violent reaction; although what they tend to be comes as sort of a surprise. When it becomes obvious that his aggressive side has taken hold, the striking cannot be stopped until he his forced to yield. He has been known to struggle until the point of exertion, and has to be unconscious (or dead) before the attack can come to a close. This is extremely rare, but when this is set off; Locke goes into a typhoon of rage and takes the offense, deleting the ‘fight or flight’ response with just fight.

Passive-aggressive behavior aside, he is a very repressed young man. He doesn’t seek trouble, but tends to slither out of it when it rears its ugly head. He is oblivious to most things that happen around him; which in turn leads him to agreeing to some idiotic things. They normally end badly, as last time he ended up with a tattoo on his flesh. Although he seeks out company, he doesn’t make much of an effort to ‘jump’ directly into it. Locke is easily subdued and nonchalant; able to work best with a partner who does not seek constant verbal reliance on him. The serpent is most comfortable with a man or woman that can understand without words, of which has led him to realizing the forms of body language most beings tend to go through. While increasingly intelligent about himself and those around him, he has yet to find the link that completes the chain altogether.

By becoming a teacher at the school that he said ‘saved his life,’ he hopes to find the answer.

...appearance

x x

Celebrity Play By: Evan Lysacek
Appearance: A tower would probably be the best descriptive image one could give when it comes to Locke. He is excessively tall, but almost pencil-thin; extremely skinny and disturbingly flexible. His age shows considerably on his face, as he acts slightly more mature then his actual body should be; his frame is completely made up of his legs and arms. Having a svelte, but not too muscular torso had led him to look quite ‘flat’ and almost concave when one observes his chest. Locke holds high cheekbones, as well as broad and curved shoulders. His back is also very flat, with an elongated spine and large shoulder blades. He is also double jointed in all of his limbs, making it easy for him to pop his bones out of place when desired or needed. While his muscle-mass lacks; the serpent-like man seems to hold a dire sort of intimidation—simply from how tall and long he can be. Normally, the man chooses to slouch so that his body can be level with the men around him. His bones are technically soft, able to compress and move under pressure. This in-turn leaves his torso looking slightly inhuman as it bridges near his collarbone and curves inwards; having little stability or natural human strength to hold a broad shape.

His long arms and legs serve as constricting confinements; as they are long and flexible enough to wrap around an entire body and squeeze until the victim is breathless. His pelvis is just as limber, and can rotate from the spine and almost dislodges itself from it. One surprising, and embarrassing incident though has left him with a mark on his left pelvic bone. Locke actually bears a tattoo of a said lightning bolt on his body, directly on the curve of his bone; pointing downwards towards his inner thigh. Although he refuses to tell others how the incident came about; he does occasionally admit that it was done to ward off the initial childhood fear of lightning he tends to exhibit. His midsection also tends to stretch longer then an average human, as he constantly stretches in order to relieve most of his muscle and bone-pains from his spurts of growing.

Locke holds absolutely no hair on his body, besides what is on his face and top of his head. He is completely barren of scars, or any scar tissue; his skin is excessively pale and rarely does he tan—despite all the sun he gets. His eyes are a calm, milky brown with a light golden tint towards the center of the iris. Locke has a slim face, seeming slightly hollowed out and yet angular. His hair is dark, almost unheard of for a Czech Slovakian man; but it takes on a hue of dark charcoal. He wears it short, framed on his neck and face; rarely does he slick it backwards—but he has been known to do so.

Attire is something that Locke takes very seriously; not because he is into fashion, but instead to hide his body. He is normally seen with either formal, loose clothing—or extensive baggy clothing. The larger tends to be the best, although he will wear tight-fit clothes for swimming or ice-skating. He is normally decked from head to toe in clothes. While it is easy to assume what he will wear, his mannerisms are not so simplistic.

--- As the King Cobra ---

Locke is a pale-to-dark-black King Cobra; marked with accented yellow dots vertical to one another. They are also perfectly horizontal, parallel, and decorative. The crown (when released) has two ash-grey to pale marks that follow from the underbelly of the beast. He is around nine feet in length, which is almost unheard of for a natural King Cobra, even if the largest documented happened to be around fourteen feet long. While in this form, he constantly sheds and gains new length; even though his growth should have halted when his human body began to stop. So far, his humanoid form has yet to begin it’s growth, but his serpentine has yet to stop. It is not rapid, but the length is slowly becoming longer.

His fangs are about two inches long when extended, and his black sheen body is around three in a half inches at it’s widest. The crown, however, doubles that and extends to about six inches in diameter at it’s fullest. [/size]

...history

Parents: Unknown;; Foster Parents : Nancy Cassius Kasey (Mother/Alive) & Carl Lee Kasey (Father/Alive)
Siblings: Kevin Leo Kasey (Older Brother/Deceased)

Adopted as an abandoned child from the Czech Republic in a program known as the Russian-American Adoption of Suffrage Victims (RAASV) to a couple in Hartford, Connecticut; Locke began his life simply. Both of his parents had been seeking for a child to adopt, due to their first son being the last due to birth complications. Nancy desired to have two children, and the healthy child that had been abandoned three months earlier quickly caught her heart. He was taken from the Czech Republic to Moscow, Russia. His new life in the states became one of pleasure, as the family was significantly well endowed when it came to finances. The child quickly became the sponge of the mother’s affection, as well as Carl’s pride due to the intelligence he began to exibit. Locke grew quickly, almost matching up to his nine year old sibling by the time he had hit six. Sibling rivalry began very soon, with Locke actually acting more docile among his family. Kevin, his senior by three years showed outright distain for his younger sibling. Constantly attempting to blame incidents on him, hoping his parents would ‘send him back to Russia.’ The actions eventually got worse, especially when Kasey and Carl decided to pull Locke out of public school and send him to a fairly expensive private institute.

At age ten, Locke was presenting signs of flexible linguistics; picking up his native language of Russian. His knowledge in the field stretched further, and the family pulled more and more of their wealth into the younger child. Out of jealousy, the thirteen year old Kevin turned to his friends and rebellious habits. Staying out all night, refusing to return, and getting arrested countless times for vandalism and stealing. Arguing frequently bled into the home, leaving Locke feeling not only unsure of his lineage (as he had no clue he was adopted) and his trust towards his brother in general. The advanced education continued, and in order to quell what Kasey thought was the problem—Locke moved back home and took private tutoring. Due to Kevin’s constant fits, the younger sibling was restricted; staying inside their roomy home specifically within his own wing. He did not communicate with anyone besides his parents, teachers, and occasionally used the internet in order to escape with those he considered friends. There were times that the fighting was so tremendously horrid that the younger was forced away from the dinner table, and meals all together.

The changes of his body began at age fourteen, which caused much teasing and verbal abuse on Kevin’s side of the field. Constantly taunting Locke’s inhuman flexibility, popping joints, and extensive length. Locke grew self conscious of his body, feeling that it was not normal; therefore too horrid to be shown. His style of dress changed, which influenced Nancy and shocked her. Believing it was Kevin’s fault, and having heard them bickering enough as it was—she forced the elder from the house to join a rehab clinic for troubled teens. Locke hadn’t changed, though, and the damage had been done. The constant taunts, anger, and bullying had left him believing that he was inept of feeling any emotion besides pure apathy. He grew distant from his own family, and neglected his studies for about a year. Refusing to see teachers, the young man simply taught himself while the elder was being ‘cleansed’ in his mental hospital. By the time Locke had hit seventeen, his brother was released on ‘good behavior.’ He had picked his studies back up again; receiving his high school diploma early and moving onto his Bachelors Degree, but upon this return—things began to hit the ceiling.

Believing their elder son cured, Nancy and Carl went about their family life as they had always planned. What they hadn’t known was that Kevin had turned to drugs during his stay at the mental ward; making him overly aggressive upon the times of injection. Times alone turned into brawling matches, which left Locke bleeding and traumatized; the first having been the worst—no less then three weeks after his acceptance back home. Locke kept his mouth shut, cleaning up messes and refusing to see his adoptive parents when the physical abuse had gone too far. On his eighteenth year, Locke’s body had finally hit the rock. He had stopped growing, but was as thin as a stick; holding no resemblance to either parent or his brother. Later one night, a particularly aggressive fight went too far. Both parents had been absent from the house that evening, and as normal—Kevin had injected heroine into his system earlier; stalking Locke down. With the fights came experience, which made every one of them longer, harder, and more violent. During this night, Locke became convinced he was fighting for his life; specifically when Kevin had attempted to asphyxiate him. With hands around his neck, already both bleeding all on the floor (although the drug made Kevin feel little pain) it was uttered—the truth about his heritage. He was adopted, and Kevin was the real son; that his family wouldn’t care if he killed Locke right then and there.

Becoming light headed, immense pain not caused by the abuse flooded his body. Seeing only red, phasing in and out—he recalled only screams and blinding agony. Awakening from the onslaught (he had passed out) Locke found the floor painted red from a struggle; lines scribbled on the floor in blood. Searching the room in a daze, he found Kevin—not as bloody or broken as himself, but with five distinct bite wounds all over his torso, hands, and neck. The body was stiff, cold, and the bite marks looked as if liquid filled bruises had festered under them in the night. Sobered up, the young boy went into a panic. Rightfully so, he began to come to terms with what had happened—his first transformation was triggered by rage and the fight or flight response. What he had done was self defense, but his adoptive parents had never known of his talents; nor could they trace it back or had even understood.

Decision made, he wrapped up the body in a blanket and left it on his bed. Leaving the mansion and easy living, he traveled on his own pooled savings; which was enough to get him out of the country, change his last name to Midgarstrum (mimicking the Midgar Serpent from Norse Mythology) and start his life anew. Burying his past, shedding it like his serpentine skin, he left the comfort of what he once knew and the hell it had become. Despite not loving Kevin as he should have, he remains guilt-ridden to this very day. Eventually finding the academy, he offered to teach after he earned his Bachelors Degree there. Quickly excelling expectations, he graduated and returned—prepared to stay for good. His past remains a shrouded cloud, and he changes his story from time to time to mess with people’s heads—if not just to get them to stop asking.

Locke has spent his last six years at the academy, and has yet to show signs of ever leaving. He’s a dedicated teacher, and tries to move students away from ever reaching the critical point he had within his life. While harsh with reality, he is still an oddly loving teacher.

...connecting human to animal

The reason why Locke subconsciously shape shifts into the King Cobra is simple. There was more toxin in his life then he could take. Jealousy, hate, blood—it was all emotional poison. He also struggled with his anger, which turned out to be more deadly then he ever imagined. Being passive-aggressive, he did not attack until provoked with violence and attacked. Snakes have shown passive behavior, fleeing from humans rather then taking them on—unless territory and mating is involved. He also suffers from poison of words; using them to trick the minds of others, just as his bite can lead to a fatal and painful death. He was also called serpent-like by his brother, which alludes to the nature of how ‘evil’ and ‘unwanted’ he was by the family. There could be a lot of reason within this choice simply because the snake, in most myths—is all knowing, evil, and/or sexual. His mind is highly developed, but it still falls victim to constant turmoil’s of instinct and raw actions.

He also tends to fight to the death, losing all sense of himself in the word. When he is triggered, the aggression is five times as worse then any normal display of rage. It becomes feral, and can only be stopped by the fatigue of his body and mind. Snakes show the exact same behavior, as they will strike and defend their ground until they are inept to do so any longer.

His body formation, and constantly being told of such odd body-changes probably propelled his mind into shifting into the King Cobra; of which’s venom is deathly lethal. He wanted to kill at that very moment, and he wished it to be as painful as how he had always felt from isolation, abuse, and internal ache. Therefore, the Cobra.

...literacy

RP Sample[/i]

In, out, in, out

—through the filter secured tightly over his mouth and nose. His nose scrunched in distaste under the white film as his lips formed an indiscrete line with the line of concentration being drawn within his mind. As he grew older, the range of his venom had also began to spread—intoxicating the air, as well as making his saliva bubble when spit out from his mouth. His canines began to sharpen with age, the hollow inside as well as the needle-thin prick beginning to flex and learning the hard way to fold within the outline of his gums. His tongue had gone numb many times due to some accidental bites; luckily said venom could not poison the one who bore it. So far, he wasn’t sure exactly how it worked. Those that had gotten close enough to examine inside his mouth normally left within seconds. Jorgdan Midgarstrum had learnt this the hard way. Struggling with ones powers came as a price for all of them, but learning to control his venom glands was like trying to tame one’s bladder after drinking two gallons of water. Pressing his hand into the firm cup of the restraint, the senior took a deep inhale in; feeling himself becoming light headed from the fumes of his own poison.

What most would consider ‘torture’ was more of an exercise for his power. While it took him over two years at the institute to tame his toxin; Jorgdan still found stress triggered most of his pains. Cracking his vertebrae, his double jointed arms easily popped out of their alignment and began to shift with his shoulder blades. The flexible bone easily began to flex, bending like wet paper or putty; retaining it’s shape while it was testing it’s current range of motion. Jorgdan came in early, and chose to leave when the wing began to grow too heavily populated for his tastes. The reincarnation of the serpent returned in the dead of night to complete the more dangerous of the training. It was only then he would take the mask off, roam freely, and test the extent of his poison. So far, he started with exposure to vegetation. The tulips were lucky to last about an hour from exposure. Snapping the joints of his shoulder back into place; his collarbone began to bend and yield to the force of his spinal column arching backwards along with his heavy breathing. Jorgdan’s eyes remained closed for most of the work out, which actually took on the form of power yoga ninety percent of the time.

The soft crackling sound of his bones began to wane as his regiment wore on; after all, it had been some time since he decided to work on his frame. Rotating his shoulders once more, his pelvis and hipbone began to detach themselves as he laid his arms down behind himself and his knees folded inwards the opposite way. Head tucked under his body, the ribcage flexed upwards and took on the form of a more cylinder-rounded shape. His skeleton was built for flexibility, and such activities did help in the growth of his body—which was far more painful then he let on. The serpent grew so long so fast that the structure was immensely sore almost all of the time. Exhaling equally hard, Jorgdan finally opened his eyes—holding the position for about four minutes. He’d tested exposure by breath, saliva, and last—biting; his findings had left the young man more worried then proud. Prolonged contact between plants and animals on simple respiration came to an average hour before death. The agony of watching said experiments suffer (when they were living and mobile participants) now came to him naturally, watching with a nonchalant nature as they degenerated into a stiff state. Saliva, he could taint as well. Taking off the mask as he got back into position, he spit the toxic substance from his mouth into one of the hazard trash bags within the classroom.

Jorgdan could almost feel his skin crawl when the hissing of other materials in the container began to sizzle. Licking the outer rim of his teeth; the serpentine-like man began to pop back all his joints and spinal discs. The best way to describe such a sound would be ‘popping bubblewrap.’ Grunting with a sound of displeasure, the only thing he had not done today was test (and record) the strength of his bite. Testing the Temporomandibular Joint, Jorgdan unhinged it and moved it from left to right while keeping his fingers located on the lower section of his bone. Pulling it back up, it easily snapped back into it’s proper place in the human anatomy. A fatal bite from Jorgdan himself was something to be taken with extreme caution. While he was supposedly old enough to deal with the ‘training’ on his own; the young man preferred a teacher present. It was never given to live humans, reincarnated gods—or demi-gods. It instead was administered to animals; all of whom suffered an instant death.

He thought he preferred that to watching death overcome them slowly.

Cocking his head to the side, a long arm came up to gently rub the sore muscle and bone. He wasn’t done growing, not by a long shot. Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he went to make notes of his current evaluation over the private training session. With the milking of his venom glands, the mask was no longer needed for covering his mouth; secretion could be willed away, after all. Jorgdan wasn’t expecting visitors, one this early—probably would have been considered absurd on Monday. [/blockquote][/font]

((Taken from Pantheon, and yes--I tend to like snakes. I don't know why. xD))
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