Post by masondarque on May 30, 2010 10:53:03 GMT -4
Mason Shayne Darque.
....The Mask
Your Name: Curious.
Where did you find us?: Google.
How long have you been roleplaying?:Four years.
Password: [admin edit!]
...Basic Character Information
Birth Name: Mason Shayne Darque.
Nickname
Gender: Male.
Age: 26
Birth date: August, 3rd.
Major: Aviation.
Classes: Aviation.
Animal Identity: Hawk.
...Personality
Likes:
- Decent conversations.
- Humor.
- Women.
- Alcohol.
- Hygiene.
- Reading.
- Music.
- Food.
- Flirting.
- F22 Raptor. (Military Jet)
Dislikes:
- Lack of respect for Authority.
- Boring/ depressing individuals.
- Arrogance.
- Lack of common sense.
- Children.
- Rodents.
- Violence.
- Distasteful sarcasm.
- Spicy food.
- Drugs.
Fears:
- Everything in it's place.
- Love.
- Emotion.
Strengths:
- Clever way with words.
- Quick thinker.
- Very friendly.
Weaknesses:
- Lack of trust.
- Easily annoyed.
- Emotion.
Overall:
Mason is a bright individual, with a real zest for life. Always up for a laugh, he is often seen with a tiny, yet amused smile upon his features. Although he looks a little brooding, he is rather friendly. Always willing to talk. About the other person of course, only those truly close to him get the better understanding of who Mason is. And although unwilling to speak about his past, he makes up for it with his warm and humorous personality, making the receiver usually forget about what it was they had asked him. Almost patient, Mason is willing to help anyone, in particular, his students, to achieve their best. Only those lacking in common sense rankle Mason most, and he does not hesitate to let them know. Self assured and confident, Mason goes about his life with a will, not letting go of something until he has completed it. Mason is very good with words, in many more ways than one. I wouldn't say he is manipulative, more that he can capture many with the way he speaks. Observant, Mason knows how to read people very well. He is excellent at picking up body language and facial gestures, allowing him to grip the situation head on. Full of character and a small pride, Mason does his best to succeed in everything that he does. Failure is not an option, and will do anything in his power to get it right. The first time, if he can. Nothing seems to get to Mason, albeit the odd moron. The only thing that he finds uncomfortable, is small children. (Under 10) Fearing he will become his father, Mason stays well away. He is nothing like his father at all at the moment, but it is still a fear, and one he is not willing to quell. Always willing to please, he puts other first, and himself second. Especially when it comes to his students. Often wanting them to be the best they can be, he strives to make that happen. If he could become what he is today after all that he has been through, anyone, could be anything they ever wanted. A great listener, Mason is happy to lend an ear to those that need one. Mason is also a great fanatic when it comes to reading, his dorm usually scattered with all sorts of stories. Ranging from documentaries to thrillers, (yes!) even the odd romance! Overall, Mason is a well-rounder character.
...Appearance
Celebrity Play By: Gerard Butler.
Appearance: In his 'Human' form, Mason looks quite rugged. Short brown hair adorns his head, hoarse to touch, but easy to shape. Thick bristles of hair scatter about his face, in some form of a beard. He prefers his facial hair over a smooth face, and no-one (as of yet) has been able to change that fact. Piercing green eye's almost burn from the inside, making many people quite exhilarated when they peer too long. Seductive yet intriguing, he believes that they are his best asset. Mason is quite bulky to look at, with a slight muscular build around his upper region. A simple black tattoo, that of a phoenix, cascades down his back. Its leathery looking wings caressing his at shoulders, whilst its wild tail twirls around the bottom of his spine. His clothing style is more contemporary-casual, with a nice shirt and jeans being his most desired attire. He will not hesitate to put on a nice suite however, if the right occasion calls for it. Sticking to more neutral colors, Mason is not one to wear a bright pink shirt. Although sophisticated, nothing beats his tracksuits and a singlet. Not usually wearing that attire out, they can be seen when he is just lazing about in his dorm after work hours. He believes that you must always be comfortable in what you wear, and should never change your style according to anyone's liking. He is distinctive in his looks, always making an effort to be sure he is at least a little decent. He is often seen wearing sunglasses, for some have not taken to kindly to his eye's, whilst other have. He'd be the first to admit that they are very different, and although spectacular, he has had less commotion surrounding him when they are hidden from view. Mason is quite attractive, if you can find anything worth being attracted to beneath his dangerously rugged exterior.
In his 'Shifted' form, Mason takes the body of a Hawk. Lithe and agile, he is often nothing but a brown blur as he takes to the skies. His feathers consists of more browns than you can think of, blending with one another in their own unique way. That color fades to black on the ends of wings, with the same color creating a 'mask' over his eye's. With a few whites and creams to mix the colors up a little, his yellow legs create a striking contrast against all the darker plumage. His beak is also of the same yellow, but fades to black at the tip as it curves elegantly downward. Fantastic gray patterns swirl around the underside of his wings and tail. (Can be seen in picture above) Long slender wings adorn his back, whilst a well toned bodice form a perfect picture of the specie. Black pearls take in the world, never missing a thing. Dangerous talons caress anything they wish, sharp enough to cut through most materials, yet careful enough to handle them without harm.
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...History
Parents: Avarice Darque. (Mother) Shayne Darque. (Father)
Siblings: Sister. (Deceased)
The day Mason was born was a dark and dreary one. Deciding to come in the early hours of the morning, his arrival was no easy feat. His mother almost died in the process, due to her peculiar heart problems. His father was no where to be seen, he had preferred to stay behind at home and drink away his sorrows. He never wanted Mason. And he made sure, that his son never forgot it. The first child that they were meant to have was killed by his own idiocy- or that's what his mother thought. You see, Mason's father was a very angry man, and preferred to do most of his talking, with his hands. Growing up in this environment although was not healthy, made Mason the man he is today. As a young child, Mason could be seen out in the back yard, as far away from his parents as possible. He loved his mother, which is why he stayed away when his father was being stupid. He hated seeing her that way, and even at a young age protested. But he learned his lesson rather quickly when his father turned on him. In some ways, he almost wanted the beatings. Just so his mother wouldn't have to endure any more. But it never stopped. No matter how hard Mason tried.
On one such occasion, things took a turn for the worst. Mason had only just turned thirteen when the event broke out. Again his mother coward in the corner, unable to do anything but scream as his fathers hands made conversations with her face. It was that moment, Masons life changed forever. He felt as though he was dying, his heart beating like it was in slow motion. A striking pain sliced through his head, and he keeled over as the breath escaped his lungs. All the sound around him slowed down, then perked up to a high pitched level. Within seconds, Mason realized he was above his fathers head, attacking him with his... talons? A loud screaming filled his ears and that only made Mason more freaked out, now using his beak as a weapon. Until he realized it was himself, screeching at his father. His mother was still cowering in the corner, arms protecting her face in any way they could. She would never see Mason in this state. With a growl from his bloodied father, one of his fists smacked the Hawk right in the chest. As he was sent backward, Mason slammed into the wall, coming to land on a buffet they had. Fine china smashed all around him, and he realized he was himself again. Groaning, he scrambled to get up before his father got to him. Strangely enough, that didn't happen. His father had left in a fit of rage, angry outbursts sounding from the bathroom. Trying to make sense of what just happened, Mason just stood there, dumbstruck. Forgetting about it all, Mason rushed to his mothers side to comfort her. It was the day after that, Mason heard the talks of boarding school. As far as his mother knew, Mason had fended his father off, somehow, although it was far too unlikely to even think about. And if him and his father ever had a 'moment,' it was a few hours after the indecent. He had entered Mason's room, and just stood at the doorway looking at him. Neither of them spoke, just cold green eye's peered at each other. Finally throwing a book at the boy, he left with a slam of the door. What was in that book helped, and changed him. It was his fathers diary.
As he hit his teens, Mason's father forced him to go to boarding school. It was the best decision he had ever made for his son. And his intentions were far less admirable. He just didn't want him around anymore, he never had. Mason never saw his father again. And so, off he went, inviting whatever life had to throw at him. At this point, nothing could bring him down, he had already been so low- he couldn't get any lower. He made wonderful friends, and despite such abuse from his childhood, Mason was a very open, friendly boy. He loved his school. He loved his teachers. Sure there were times when he was a little ratbag, causing more trouble than he should, but don't they all?
As the years went on, Mason finally graduated and left for University. By this time his mother had left his father, and he would often catch up with her in his spare time. They went for coffee's, lunch, dinner- anything, you name it. it had been so long since they had a chance to be so close, and he reminded her every time they spoke of how much he adored her bravery. Sadly, a few months on, and Mason lost his mother due to her heart. Mason has never been the same. He never allowed himself to 'feel' as much as he did then, never fully opening himself up to anyone. He lived his life the way he wanted it, how he wanted it, and never bothered to explain why. Do not let his lack of emotion fool you, however, because it is there, somewhere.
...Connecting Human To Animal
It is quite clear to see that Mason was very different the moment he was born. Hawk like eye's were a dead give away, but was put a side as some deformity. His father, however, being of an Eagle Shifter, knew that unfortunately- all or some of his genetic traits had been passed on. It became clearer as he grew older as well, often as a young boy- he became very interested in rodents. Unable to play with them however, he would instantly grab them too hard, and kill them. He also began to notice the same thing with fish. Being able to easily grab a fish from water with only his hands, although different, kept him entertained for hours on end. He was always good at sports like basketball, zooming in and out of the court, with great speed and agility. He was always a go-getter, very rarely not getting what he set his eye's on. Confident and observant, Mason knows what he wants, and knows how to get it.
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...Literacy
A desolate, moaning wind crept stealthily across the lands, its bare fingers inhabiting every nook and cranny in the landscape as it slid over the deserted plains. The tough, bristling grasses that carpeted the dry ground clawed at the air, as if endeavoring to clutch at the wind, bring it down, cease its endless, lost meanderings through the abandoned terra. The territory was bleak, as if it were a scene of a graveyard, painted in grayscale. There seemed to be just as much life stirring in these lands as in a graveyard, with nothing but the spirits of the wind to inhabit the forsaken grounds. The gray light filtering through the thick cloud cover dipped the terrain in drear and gloom, marking the place as one of desolation and despair. It was the sort of landscape that would easily lead an onlooker to believe it a place devoid of happiness and life, where the only creatures capable of survival were those that lived upon the misery and anguish of others.
Light, delicate pawsteps caused the brittle grass underpaw to crackle and hiss softly, as if each step that this creature took was unwelcome upon these lands, as if it were a sacrilege just for this beast to tread the sacred grounds of the Toai Ruins, still standing (somewhat) after all these years. Or perhaps, so the being pondered to itself, it was that the terra itself knew that her presence alone graced these lands with a power, an authority that had been lost with the disappearance of the ancient creators and inhabitants of these lands. Piercing jewels of pale amber swept across the horizon, taking in the lay of the land, familiarizing themselves with the eccentricities in the topography. To say the least, there weren’t many that were immediately visible, which was no surprise. The terra was composed mostly of dry grassland with sparse foliage, nothing commentable really. But there seemed to be something that the creature sensed in the atmosphere that pleased her, something of a faded and veiled power, ancient remnants of destruction, chaos. These lands had something to give her, and she was more than willing to take it, even if it meant killing in the process. Finally, the unrelenting eyes focused on one point in the distance, and without further delay, the muscles, warm with running, shifted, bearing their owner with an unmatched alacrity towards her destination.
It did not take long for the being arrive at the predetermined location; It was none other than the ruins that had given these lands their namesake, the Toai Ruins. Where there had once been tall, proud buildings of stone and granite, only half-standing shambles remained. Here and there, an edifice still lingered, as if clutching to the threadbare string of life that was verticality. It seemed almost as if one particularly powerful gust of wind could uproot the structures by their foundations, yet they somehow survived the centuries, still balancing precariously upon their eroding feet. The tumbled houses now resemble burial pyres, what with being reduced to piles of rubble, a few sharp edges where the stone cracked jutting out of the mounds. The creature, moving in its smooth, gliding gait, alighted atop one such mass, seeming to slide in a serpentine manner to the peak. Obsidian fur gleamed, contrasting dangerously against the dull gray rock, creating a striking image. Her pelt was streaked at the shoulders and along the ridge of her spine with varying, blended hues of cream and mahogany, the patterns swirling and changing as the breeze swept through the thick fur. Her bodice was built upon a light, lithe frame, her limbs long and supple, supporting a smaller chest and a minute torso. It was this feline-like build that gave the fae her smooth gait, built, not for heavy, head-on clashes, but for elegance, speed and agility.
Her bodice cut an imposing figure against the stormy sky, her stance proud, head, ears and tail high, showing no deference, despite the fact the she was upon foreign territory. The cold, golden gaze surveyed the expanse before them, a grim approval glinting in their dark depths. The smell of wolf was strong on the wind, but the femme’s desire for these lands to claim as her own were yet stronger. At this time, there was still no sign of the so-called leaders of this desolate terra. That would all change at her command, she had no doubt. No longer wishing to keep her presence unaccounted for, she decided to make her existence obvious to the yet oblivious inhabitants. These lands were rightfully hers, she knew it; They called to her.
What’s a party if there’s only one person there?
Once again, she scanned her surroundings, getting a feel of the terrain. Soon, this land would be her domain. Throwing her proud crania back, her tapered snout tilted to the roiling clouds above, her maw parted, letting a haunting note draw itself of its own accord from her vocals. The melody was lilting, yet held a subtle defiance, a challenge. The wind seemed to grow excited at this display, reaching its cold hands down to grasp at the ebon femme’s fur, tossing it in the wind, causing her dark tail to flutter like a sinister banner behind her. The wind hissed through bare branches and the tough grasses, accompanying the fae in her song. Persisting for another minute or so, it soon faded away, before the breeze had ceased, carrying on the air for miles around. Satisfied that she had asserted her presence and the reason for her coming, she let her chin drop again, a small smile playing on her dark lips as she waited her greeting party.
Yes, this was the fanfare that would greet the lands with the arrival of a new reign. It was the sound that told of blood to come, fates and destinies awaiting, change and a new authority.
The mistress of Death and Destruction was here, and she damn well wasn't going to leave until she had what she wanted.
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