Post by break on Mar 31, 2010 15:35:50 GMT -5
Name: Galloway Eoin Break
Nick Name: Break
Race: Vampire
Gender: Male
Age: 137 (42)
Appearance: Break is five-foot-nine, with grungy brown eyes and a disheveled oblong face. Lines burrow into his forehead from age and a full beard covers his face. Break has a somewhat thin nose and equally thin lips tilting into a frown due more to age than sadness. Apart from a pair of muddy boots he wears an 1890s coat, brown and travelling just below the groin area, all but the top button undone to reveal a pale blue cotton shirt underneath. Over the years he adopted modern jeans, wearing them until their last bitter strand. Break’s brown hair is candied with lighter spots and cut to a loose business-man’s style, parted to the left. On his back he usually carries a large old backpack.
Weapon: An old Winchester 1895 Lever-Action rifle, barely in working condition, little to no rounds left [Got permission from Strike!]. A slightly bent shovel with a wooden handle,
History: Galloway Break was born in Stirling, Scotland. Father was a farmer, who took his job very seriously. As years went on Break fed himself with ideas of travel, going away from Scotland and seeing the world’s wonders. Despite his dream to travel every which way a boat could take him Break found himself doomed to Scotland for his mortal life, receiving a modest education and a thorough drilling on the workings of the family farm. At the age of fourteen he enjoyed the company of his uncle, come to stay with them from England. The ragged man had spent years picking up wages wherever they could be earned and pouring them all into travel. Break, having never met his uncle before, found much in common with the man, and also much discouragement. Break’s uncle was a good man, but too possessed by his will to travel. As he would be told by his father shortly after the man’s departure, his uncle wasn’t a happy man. Constant travel left one weary and depleted, entirely without good friends to confide in and find comfort. Break still harbored hopes of travel, but truly began to accept the responsibilities of the farm.
When he turned twenty-six Break took over the farm with his new wife, Vanora Carlyle. Facing some stress adapting to the newfound place of power. Break was adept at growing the lands, and had a certain joy from watching the fruits of his labor feed his family and others. It was a modest and entirely happy life that he was willing to endure to its cruel end. A year later Vanora and Break had a child, a son by name of Gavin. Winters proved harsh, as they would for any farmer, but they always seemed a tad warmer when spent in the company of one’s family. Nearly twenty years later, in 1915, Break was outside, walking the surrounding hills with his wife, planning a late-night picnic of sorts. A mysterious man came to them from Stirling, claiming he hadn’t eaten in days. Despite the romantic intention of the night Break wouldn’t refuse the clearly starved man. When he moved closer to offer the man his meal he found his neck being bitten violently. Strength waning. Vanora and Break had heard myths… but neither truly believed in the vampires. When Break awoke, blood staining his lips, Vanora told him of the vampire’s promise of reward. Explained that the man had shared his own blood as payment for the meal. Already Break realized he could not go home with his wife. The farm was left to his son, for when he was old enough to take care of it. Break gathered his prized possessions and left, swearing not to return again lest he cursed his family further. Before light could creep over Scotland the newly born Galloway Eoin Break was well on his way, a dim shadow in the dawn seeking shelter.
Over the next years Break began to accept his fate, much as he had years ago when he knew he would be a simple farmer. The life of a vampire seemed littered with violence, whether the cause was gathering a meal or squabbles with the equally mythical werewolves. Though this new life enabled him to travel the constant feeling of it numbed Galloway Break and drained him of his compassion for growing beings. Humans weren’t quite cattle, but he no longer revered them as great creatures. Immortality let him see their flaws, this, he believed, was the idea intended by whatever powers that govern life. Break’s eyes opened even as he had to squint to make out new mysteries. It wasn’t long before he was enveloped in the increasingly-less-secret wars of the two great races. The farmer became a soldier, the soldier became a defector. The battle of Colgan Manor was plenty for Break, the moment he glimpsed their adversary’s strength he was gone. A smoke cloud on the wind much as he was the night of his turning. More wars followed, Break skulking the darker corners so as not to be drawn in. When fighting arose nearby, he would join, although his pseudo-pilgrimage had made him question who to fight for, if anyone. Out of simple ease and comradery he picked his own kind, those most likely to trust him. Minimal combat and few scars later he arrives at the scarred husk of the city. A place he hadn’t expected to wind up, however, after managing to wander in curiously Break quickly learns there’s no easy way out.
- Extras-
Personality: Break is somber, but not unhappy. A good sense of humor always helped him through the days on the farm and had not diminished with the tan of his skin. Over the years he picked up different religions, focusing mainly on Pagan Gods and the Christian Faith. Believing firmly in a creature’s rights he often buries the dead using his old shovel, enemies or allies alike, even if this means travelling to find decent land. Family is a touchy topic, but one he’ll partake in easily enough. Break speaks freely of his past, despite the sad tones that may creep through his mask.
Nick Name: Break
Race: Vampire
Gender: Male
Age: 137 (42)
Appearance: Break is five-foot-nine, with grungy brown eyes and a disheveled oblong face. Lines burrow into his forehead from age and a full beard covers his face. Break has a somewhat thin nose and equally thin lips tilting into a frown due more to age than sadness. Apart from a pair of muddy boots he wears an 1890s coat, brown and travelling just below the groin area, all but the top button undone to reveal a pale blue cotton shirt underneath. Over the years he adopted modern jeans, wearing them until their last bitter strand. Break’s brown hair is candied with lighter spots and cut to a loose business-man’s style, parted to the left. On his back he usually carries a large old backpack.
Weapon: An old Winchester 1895 Lever-Action rifle, barely in working condition, little to no rounds left [Got permission from Strike!]. A slightly bent shovel with a wooden handle,
History: Galloway Break was born in Stirling, Scotland. Father was a farmer, who took his job very seriously. As years went on Break fed himself with ideas of travel, going away from Scotland and seeing the world’s wonders. Despite his dream to travel every which way a boat could take him Break found himself doomed to Scotland for his mortal life, receiving a modest education and a thorough drilling on the workings of the family farm. At the age of fourteen he enjoyed the company of his uncle, come to stay with them from England. The ragged man had spent years picking up wages wherever they could be earned and pouring them all into travel. Break, having never met his uncle before, found much in common with the man, and also much discouragement. Break’s uncle was a good man, but too possessed by his will to travel. As he would be told by his father shortly after the man’s departure, his uncle wasn’t a happy man. Constant travel left one weary and depleted, entirely without good friends to confide in and find comfort. Break still harbored hopes of travel, but truly began to accept the responsibilities of the farm.
When he turned twenty-six Break took over the farm with his new wife, Vanora Carlyle. Facing some stress adapting to the newfound place of power. Break was adept at growing the lands, and had a certain joy from watching the fruits of his labor feed his family and others. It was a modest and entirely happy life that he was willing to endure to its cruel end. A year later Vanora and Break had a child, a son by name of Gavin. Winters proved harsh, as they would for any farmer, but they always seemed a tad warmer when spent in the company of one’s family. Nearly twenty years later, in 1915, Break was outside, walking the surrounding hills with his wife, planning a late-night picnic of sorts. A mysterious man came to them from Stirling, claiming he hadn’t eaten in days. Despite the romantic intention of the night Break wouldn’t refuse the clearly starved man. When he moved closer to offer the man his meal he found his neck being bitten violently. Strength waning. Vanora and Break had heard myths… but neither truly believed in the vampires. When Break awoke, blood staining his lips, Vanora told him of the vampire’s promise of reward. Explained that the man had shared his own blood as payment for the meal. Already Break realized he could not go home with his wife. The farm was left to his son, for when he was old enough to take care of it. Break gathered his prized possessions and left, swearing not to return again lest he cursed his family further. Before light could creep over Scotland the newly born Galloway Eoin Break was well on his way, a dim shadow in the dawn seeking shelter.
Over the next years Break began to accept his fate, much as he had years ago when he knew he would be a simple farmer. The life of a vampire seemed littered with violence, whether the cause was gathering a meal or squabbles with the equally mythical werewolves. Though this new life enabled him to travel the constant feeling of it numbed Galloway Break and drained him of his compassion for growing beings. Humans weren’t quite cattle, but he no longer revered them as great creatures. Immortality let him see their flaws, this, he believed, was the idea intended by whatever powers that govern life. Break’s eyes opened even as he had to squint to make out new mysteries. It wasn’t long before he was enveloped in the increasingly-less-secret wars of the two great races. The farmer became a soldier, the soldier became a defector. The battle of Colgan Manor was plenty for Break, the moment he glimpsed their adversary’s strength he was gone. A smoke cloud on the wind much as he was the night of his turning. More wars followed, Break skulking the darker corners so as not to be drawn in. When fighting arose nearby, he would join, although his pseudo-pilgrimage had made him question who to fight for, if anyone. Out of simple ease and comradery he picked his own kind, those most likely to trust him. Minimal combat and few scars later he arrives at the scarred husk of the city. A place he hadn’t expected to wind up, however, after managing to wander in curiously Break quickly learns there’s no easy way out.
- Extras-
Personality: Break is somber, but not unhappy. A good sense of humor always helped him through the days on the farm and had not diminished with the tan of his skin. Over the years he picked up different religions, focusing mainly on Pagan Gods and the Christian Faith. Believing firmly in a creature’s rights he often buries the dead using his old shovel, enemies or allies alike, even if this means travelling to find decent land. Family is a touchy topic, but one he’ll partake in easily enough. Break speaks freely of his past, despite the sad tones that may creep through his mask.