Post by rosenthal on Oct 26, 2010 12:25:06 GMT -5
Name: Rosenthal
Nick Name: Some people call him Rose, but this just irritates him. It's too feminine for his tastes.
Race: Vampire
Gender: Male
Age: Rosenthal has spent 74 years as a Vampire, being turned at the age of 22. Thus, his age is 96.
Appearance: Rosenthal's hair has never been one to co-operate with him. It curls at the first sign of moisture, leaving him almost permanently with wavy, chestnut brown hair. It's cut relatively short, just below his ears in fact. Just enough so that the odd lock can sweep across his face.
Moving south we have his face. Cheeks are slightly sunken in, creating very defined cheekbone and jaw structure. His skin is obviously of the pale nature, which, combined with his hair colour, really helps accentuate his stereo-typical piercing blue eyes. These are, in his opinion, his strongest physical asset, and always tries to use them to dominate those he interacts with.
His physique is not that of someone reeking of physical strength. In fact, he's quite slight of frame compared to many of those who yet live. That being said, he's not a tiny guy either. Rosenthal has a bit of a broad chest, with lanky arms to give him this look. This really isn't what's important about his body though. At least, not to him. What's important is his attire. Sadly the war, apocolypse and general hostility of their world hasn't been too kind to his available wardrobe. As such, he's left keeping things pathetically simple. A black sued shirt, collared, keeps him warm and comfortable at night. His pants are simple faded black denim, with the odd rip or tear below the waist.
Another important aspect of Rosenthal is simply the feel he gives off. Unless something else is affecting him, he's usually got an aura of soft, cunning curiosity. Like a curious feline, out to learn and explore something new. This is very much a true representation of his personality.
Weapon: Rosenthal isn't much on armed combat nowdays. Even when he lived the life of freedom, scraps would usually end in him using his fists over anything else. The rare exception would be in the face of some crafty opponent weilding a blade-type weapon. In this instance, he'd draw a pair of standard issue military combat knives. Nothing special, but just what he needed to keep sharp edges at bay.
In captivity, Rosenthal often chooses to go without weaponry. The exception to this is when he is offered weapons similar to those he once used - and even then, they're rarely used. His hands are far more reliable than any other weapon.
History: It really began in 1914, the year the Great War took off. Rosenthal "Rose" Ferris was amoung the first to willingly join the fight in Europe. He had already lost his Mother to childbirth, meaning his father wasn't quite capable of affording schooling for him. This was the initial draw to the army - having a paid education to return to, should you return. That aside, the army just had its ways of drawing in the young and daring. Propaganda. Pubplic speakers. Staged events. All glamorizing the fight in Europe - being a hero for your country.
Rosenthal wanted to be a hero.
Rosenthal wasn't alone in this conquest. Many of his friends also felt the call to valor, all of them joining the same division as him - The 77th. They thought it to be something they'd laugh and drink about later. Oh how wroung they were.
There aren't exactly words to describe the horror of War. The stench that consumes the soil and air alike. The wretching feeling nearly premanented in one's throat from the sight of the dead. Not to mention, living with the burden of murder, and watching friends die without hope of helping them. Nobody advertised this back home.
The 77th was one of the lucky few battalions lucky enough to last most of the war. They'd earned a reputation as lightfoots; able to sprint for long distances and catch unsuspecting foes unprepared. "First to charge, first to conquer!" was their motto. Never once did someone think that it could also mean "First to charge, first to fall".
Their time came. In the fall of 1918, intelligence discovered German forces employing a prototype squadron south of Luxumbourg. Naturally, they were called in to investigate. Despite being seasoned veterans of up to four years, nothing could have prepared them for what they fought.
Vampires.
Division 77 was torn asunder. 200 were slaughtered on sight, with another 150 vanishing into the Argonnes Forest.
Ever since, Rosenthal has lived life as the walking, talking dead.
A few years passed since then with little progression in his life. Time was the only cure for the mental scars he'd suffered at the hands of both war and Vampire alike. In this time he learned the nature of his powers and weaknesses, what it would take to control himself, and eventually, how to intergrate himself back into public.
Another few years down the road, Rosenthal found the courage to return home. His Father was a constant thought on his mind; a seed that had been planted even before he was turned. Rosenthal recalled very clearly his fathers thoughts on the loss of his mother, and how it had torn him up. There was no imagining what "Your son is M.I.A." would do to him... Yet somehow, the truth didn't seem much better.
Rosenthal never actually found his father. His return home yeilded an abandoned home with no signs of previous ownership. And when he asked about, the neighborhood could barely recall him living there, much less what happened to him.
There aren't many points of mention before the world went to hell, so to speak. Rosenthals life became one of creativity. He played for various bands and artists for many years (vocals and bass), wrote an action series of novels that didn't go over too well, and starred in a few small films. There were no women (or men, for the record) of notable interest in his life. In fact, there wasn't anyone that really managed to get close to him, mostly because he wouldn't allow it. After participating in the war for 4 years, Rosenthal just felt foreign around people. He was no less charismatic or friendly around them though. He simply kept everyone at arms length.
The apocalyptic events of the new millenium were obviously a much, much different story.
For the first time since his move back to America, Rosenthal sought out his fellow Vampire. It didn't take long either. With the breakdown of the known world also came the destruction of law, which really bode poorly for humanity. The supernatural of the world were no longer bound to secrecy and preservation of humanity.
During these chaotic times, Rosenthal also learned of the existance of Werewolves, though he could never wrap his head around the whole 'racial enemies' bit. In fact, they sort of fascinated him.
As human resources (as in, the humans are the resource) depleted in smaller cities, droves of Vampires were drawn towards the few places that still held a stable number of people. Naturally this drew Rosenthal to New York City, or what was left of it. Here he assimilated into the ranks that called the ruins home, and found a living for himself once more.
Or not.
About a week after Rosenthal had found his new home, so too did someone else. Angels. Angels, everywhere. They devastated the coven, and killed the Vampire leader outright. Rosenthals fighting spirit betrayed him into making a stand then and there, where he was captured like the few other brave ones that remained. Ever since, he's remained in his cell, occasionally being released to join a group of Angels in a raid or something similiar.
Personality: Rosenthal doesn't have too much of a personality. At least not one that shows.
Rosenthal is in a sort of permanent state of calm and peace. He doesn't often talk unless addressed, doesn't change his expression from a warm grin. He keeps to himself and his beliefs, and that's about all that anyone can say to describe his personality.
There are a few points of interest about his personality though. First and foremost, his views on the Angels are deemed a bit heretical by his kin. Initially, he loathed the beings for their actions. For destroying the peace he'd sercured for himself in the decaying ruins of New York. As time progressed, this stand-point matured into something completely different.
Rosenthal respects them.
Of course, this is not to be confused with liking them. Being a Vampire meant Rosenthal wasn't treated with a whole lot of respect. Prison was not his natural habitat. But his time spent alone and working along side the Angels gave him great time to reflect upon the situation. To Rosenthal, what they'd done was (horrifically) remarkable. They commanded incredible prowess, cunning, intellect... Rosenthal found himself humbled by them. And thus, working for them wasn't all that difficult for the Vampire. If only they weren't so damned rude to him, he may even like a few of them.
Rosenthal's opinion upon the Werewolves isn't much. Not in the sense that he thinks little of them, but the sense that he knows little about them, and cares even less. No personal vendetta's. He simply finds them interesting.
Rosenthal has a bit of a hero complex when it comes to distressed women. It's his greatest flaw (in his own opinion). It's impossible for him to leave one behind, to watch one suffer, be abused or even just disrespected. It's gotten him into loads of trouble, and, better yet, Rosenthal has never felt any sort of attraction to women he's come to the aid of. His actions were carried about because they felt right, not because of underlying motives of sweeping a girl off her feet.
Nick Name: Some people call him Rose, but this just irritates him. It's too feminine for his tastes.
Race: Vampire
Gender: Male
Age: Rosenthal has spent 74 years as a Vampire, being turned at the age of 22. Thus, his age is 96.
Appearance: Rosenthal's hair has never been one to co-operate with him. It curls at the first sign of moisture, leaving him almost permanently with wavy, chestnut brown hair. It's cut relatively short, just below his ears in fact. Just enough so that the odd lock can sweep across his face.
Moving south we have his face. Cheeks are slightly sunken in, creating very defined cheekbone and jaw structure. His skin is obviously of the pale nature, which, combined with his hair colour, really helps accentuate his stereo-typical piercing blue eyes. These are, in his opinion, his strongest physical asset, and always tries to use them to dominate those he interacts with.
His physique is not that of someone reeking of physical strength. In fact, he's quite slight of frame compared to many of those who yet live. That being said, he's not a tiny guy either. Rosenthal has a bit of a broad chest, with lanky arms to give him this look. This really isn't what's important about his body though. At least, not to him. What's important is his attire. Sadly the war, apocolypse and general hostility of their world hasn't been too kind to his available wardrobe. As such, he's left keeping things pathetically simple. A black sued shirt, collared, keeps him warm and comfortable at night. His pants are simple faded black denim, with the odd rip or tear below the waist.
Another important aspect of Rosenthal is simply the feel he gives off. Unless something else is affecting him, he's usually got an aura of soft, cunning curiosity. Like a curious feline, out to learn and explore something new. This is very much a true representation of his personality.
Weapon: Rosenthal isn't much on armed combat nowdays. Even when he lived the life of freedom, scraps would usually end in him using his fists over anything else. The rare exception would be in the face of some crafty opponent weilding a blade-type weapon. In this instance, he'd draw a pair of standard issue military combat knives. Nothing special, but just what he needed to keep sharp edges at bay.
In captivity, Rosenthal often chooses to go without weaponry. The exception to this is when he is offered weapons similar to those he once used - and even then, they're rarely used. His hands are far more reliable than any other weapon.
History: It really began in 1914, the year the Great War took off. Rosenthal "Rose" Ferris was amoung the first to willingly join the fight in Europe. He had already lost his Mother to childbirth, meaning his father wasn't quite capable of affording schooling for him. This was the initial draw to the army - having a paid education to return to, should you return. That aside, the army just had its ways of drawing in the young and daring. Propaganda. Pubplic speakers. Staged events. All glamorizing the fight in Europe - being a hero for your country.
Rosenthal wanted to be a hero.
Rosenthal wasn't alone in this conquest. Many of his friends also felt the call to valor, all of them joining the same division as him - The 77th. They thought it to be something they'd laugh and drink about later. Oh how wroung they were.
There aren't exactly words to describe the horror of War. The stench that consumes the soil and air alike. The wretching feeling nearly premanented in one's throat from the sight of the dead. Not to mention, living with the burden of murder, and watching friends die without hope of helping them. Nobody advertised this back home.
The 77th was one of the lucky few battalions lucky enough to last most of the war. They'd earned a reputation as lightfoots; able to sprint for long distances and catch unsuspecting foes unprepared. "First to charge, first to conquer!" was their motto. Never once did someone think that it could also mean "First to charge, first to fall".
Their time came. In the fall of 1918, intelligence discovered German forces employing a prototype squadron south of Luxumbourg. Naturally, they were called in to investigate. Despite being seasoned veterans of up to four years, nothing could have prepared them for what they fought.
Vampires.
Division 77 was torn asunder. 200 were slaughtered on sight, with another 150 vanishing into the Argonnes Forest.
Ever since, Rosenthal has lived life as the walking, talking dead.
A few years passed since then with little progression in his life. Time was the only cure for the mental scars he'd suffered at the hands of both war and Vampire alike. In this time he learned the nature of his powers and weaknesses, what it would take to control himself, and eventually, how to intergrate himself back into public.
Another few years down the road, Rosenthal found the courage to return home. His Father was a constant thought on his mind; a seed that had been planted even before he was turned. Rosenthal recalled very clearly his fathers thoughts on the loss of his mother, and how it had torn him up. There was no imagining what "Your son is M.I.A." would do to him... Yet somehow, the truth didn't seem much better.
Rosenthal never actually found his father. His return home yeilded an abandoned home with no signs of previous ownership. And when he asked about, the neighborhood could barely recall him living there, much less what happened to him.
There aren't many points of mention before the world went to hell, so to speak. Rosenthals life became one of creativity. He played for various bands and artists for many years (vocals and bass), wrote an action series of novels that didn't go over too well, and starred in a few small films. There were no women (or men, for the record) of notable interest in his life. In fact, there wasn't anyone that really managed to get close to him, mostly because he wouldn't allow it. After participating in the war for 4 years, Rosenthal just felt foreign around people. He was no less charismatic or friendly around them though. He simply kept everyone at arms length.
The apocalyptic events of the new millenium were obviously a much, much different story.
For the first time since his move back to America, Rosenthal sought out his fellow Vampire. It didn't take long either. With the breakdown of the known world also came the destruction of law, which really bode poorly for humanity. The supernatural of the world were no longer bound to secrecy and preservation of humanity.
During these chaotic times, Rosenthal also learned of the existance of Werewolves, though he could never wrap his head around the whole 'racial enemies' bit. In fact, they sort of fascinated him.
As human resources (as in, the humans are the resource) depleted in smaller cities, droves of Vampires were drawn towards the few places that still held a stable number of people. Naturally this drew Rosenthal to New York City, or what was left of it. Here he assimilated into the ranks that called the ruins home, and found a living for himself once more.
Or not.
About a week after Rosenthal had found his new home, so too did someone else. Angels. Angels, everywhere. They devastated the coven, and killed the Vampire leader outright. Rosenthals fighting spirit betrayed him into making a stand then and there, where he was captured like the few other brave ones that remained. Ever since, he's remained in his cell, occasionally being released to join a group of Angels in a raid or something similiar.
Personality: Rosenthal doesn't have too much of a personality. At least not one that shows.
Rosenthal is in a sort of permanent state of calm and peace. He doesn't often talk unless addressed, doesn't change his expression from a warm grin. He keeps to himself and his beliefs, and that's about all that anyone can say to describe his personality.
There are a few points of interest about his personality though. First and foremost, his views on the Angels are deemed a bit heretical by his kin. Initially, he loathed the beings for their actions. For destroying the peace he'd sercured for himself in the decaying ruins of New York. As time progressed, this stand-point matured into something completely different.
Rosenthal respects them.
Of course, this is not to be confused with liking them. Being a Vampire meant Rosenthal wasn't treated with a whole lot of respect. Prison was not his natural habitat. But his time spent alone and working along side the Angels gave him great time to reflect upon the situation. To Rosenthal, what they'd done was (horrifically) remarkable. They commanded incredible prowess, cunning, intellect... Rosenthal found himself humbled by them. And thus, working for them wasn't all that difficult for the Vampire. If only they weren't so damned rude to him, he may even like a few of them.
Rosenthal's opinion upon the Werewolves isn't much. Not in the sense that he thinks little of them, but the sense that he knows little about them, and cares even less. No personal vendetta's. He simply finds them interesting.
Rosenthal has a bit of a hero complex when it comes to distressed women. It's his greatest flaw (in his own opinion). It's impossible for him to leave one behind, to watch one suffer, be abused or even just disrespected. It's gotten him into loads of trouble, and, better yet, Rosenthal has never felt any sort of attraction to women he's come to the aid of. His actions were carried about because they felt right, not because of underlying motives of sweeping a girl off her feet.