Post by Gazer Wildes on Oct 20, 2013 15:03:44 GMT -5
Player Title: Ehcoes
Full Birth Name: Gazer Anne Wildes Alias/ nickname: Wildes - Gaze - Loki Race: Superhuman Gender: Female Age: Fourty-Eight Physical Appearance:
Twenty-ThreePersonality Traits:
One thing that is undeniable is the fact that while Gazer can be cruel, snarky, and manipulative she is an honorable person -while her word is kept be wary of loopholes because she will find them. Gazer has a code she lives by, the only thing she won't break, and that is to live and die with honor no matter what. She is very old-fashioned despite her ease with the ways of the new world around her; and while she appears to be ruthless she is far from it at heart. Gaze has a dark and a light side just like everyone else, your attitude just determines which side you'll see.Weaponry:
From her bad attitude and snarky comments, her personality is a definite turn off, when she isn't charming her way out of trouble that is. She could probably charm the pants off a straight woman if she truly wanted to, but she sticks to being her charming, manipulating self. And while many want to punch Gaze in her mug, everyone respects her in their own way knowing she built her way from the bottom up. Of course respect is often tried when it comes to Gazer, she is after all quite the manipulative bitch, who more often then not robs people blind by gambling as well as conning and placing bets.
Gazer is a very cunning woman, her intelligence exceeds even some of the greatest minds which helps her be the deadly, cut-throat person this world demands of her. She is definitely well-known; being one of the few with outside connections still in tact. No, one can actually pin her with anything illegal -which is why she has no trouble keeping her place in society. Leader-wise, Gazer is very blunt, quick, and wise -always playing her cards in her own favor. She's a trickster and often is teased with the title of Loki.
When she needs to be Gaze can be very dark, calculating person with little regard for the well being of those around her -specifically when she's on her own. She has the remarkable ability to almost switch of her humanity off and compartmentalize her emotions to be a quick and efficient killer and fighter. What she lacks in strength she makes up for with skill. She hates to lose and has a very evil and competitive streak that very few walk away from. All in all, don't go after Gazer unless you're incredibly skilled or very stupid. She knows how to control her facial expression's, emotions, and feelings but she is very easy to piss off.
Speaking of anger-issues; when Gazer is angry (she's more hurt then angry) she act's like a kid throwing a tantrum- she'll sulk, pout, stomp about, throw things, shout obscenities here and there, maybe beat up a few folk but nothing serious. When she's pissed though, not just pissed off but truly and royally pissed, she's eerily silent and completely calm. That is when anyone that knows her, runs for it, because if Gazer's silent and calm that means someone's about to die. And it won't be a nice quick death, no, it will be long and torturous.
Underneath it all though, Gazer suffers from PTSD, Antisocial Personality Disorder, and Sociopathic tendencies. She hides her anxious behavior and loneliness underneath her devilish, trouble-maker nature -Gaze is truly frightened by the world around her and grew up learning how to control and conquer her fear. She will never be free of it, but she forces it to hide in the back of her mind, tightly locked in a dark box. She suffers from emotional detachment and this leads to her anxiety and stress disorders, she has a deep-rooted dislike for controlling men and guilt left over from every death she's caused. She's a killer and she won't deny it if asked. Unlike many people, both normal and cursed, Odessa does not deny what she is or what she has done. She accepts it and then learns to live with it.
Her eyes reflect her inner self -dark, cold, and stuck in a nightmare- though underneath the heavy fog there is an honorable girl dying to peak through and show the world there is a light beneath all the dark muck.
There are three things Gaze will never do though: beg, cry, and actually smile. She'll smirk sure, and she'll force a smile but she hasn't actually smiled since her baby sister died, she's an incredibly good actor though to the point where it's almost scary. Only those who really know her can figure out what she's truly feeling but even that can be difficult if she doesn't want you to know.
There are just so many different masks that she wear's, it's difficult to know who the real Gazer is -even for Gaze.
Bow - Sling Shot - Military Grade Six inch Switch blade - Sturdy Walking Stick she's turned in a SpearExtras:
Gazer loves dark poetry- she quotes it, sings it, writes it, but her favorite Poet is Edgar Allan Poe. She also loves fighting, verbal and physical. She reads what material she can find, and often likes to draw in the dirt or sand with a stick. Gaze also enjoys map making though she's limited in what she can do because of the lacking supplies she needs to make maps.History Summary:
Odessa hates control freaks, especially if they're male. She also can't stand supernaturals or any sort. Her biggest pet peeves are listening to someone chew food, stupid people, and breathing the same air as other people. She does not like social crowds and she hates mingling with other people unless she has to.
Odessa likes pockets, so, her pants are cargo style; she has three pairs of cargo pants- black, green, and tan. She carries two and wears one pair. Her right wrist has multiple string and leather bracelets she's made and collected in her travels, but her left wrist has a pair of handcuffs as a bracelet. She has two black tank tops, a gray tee shirt, and a black thermal long sleeve. For a coat she has a old school winter camo military issued jacket with her last name on the front right side. She also has a red beanie and black fingerless gloves. Her boots are worn, but they're sturdy steel toe boots that still have a few years in them. She also wears two sets of dog tags, a military grade green backpack, and black aviators.
My childhood? Right, no. I didn't have a childhood, I had a crazy Father and no Mother -it's safe to say I didn't come out right in the end. My Father, he raised me the best he could but as a son, not a daughter. I don't remember much, other then our summer's at the camp, once we moved to our camp my memory gets better. I was raised a fighter, taught to survive in the wilderness which involves hunting. I remember my first deer, my dad made me gut and skin it by myself but afterwards he took the blood soaked hide and made me wear it like a cape of sorts for a solid week -it got nasty after a few days.Post Example:
Anyways, he taught me how to use different weapon types; firearms, melee, home-made, whatever I could get my hands on was a weapon. How to shoot a bow, use a sling shot, making arrows and such. My favorite lessons were the hand-to-hand combat, I'd get my ass handed to me more often then not but it was enjoyable.
There was a lot of training though, there was schooling yes, I had college classes but all my classes were online even when I was a wee one. Dad didn't enjoy me hanging around other children my age. He'd always say, "Odd, you're too smart for them, you belong with people that are smart, people like me that'll challenge your wee brain." I guess, in a way my Dad was my everything and that included my torturer.
I love him, but there's just as many dark memories as there are light.
I was thirteen when the apocalypse happened, though, me and my Dad didn't actually find out about it till we were already six months in though because we lived in a survivalist camp up in the Rockies. Once we did find out we stayed put until I turned eighteen -that's when my Dad was killed. That's when, I, killed my Dad.
Anyway, after that I just kept moving. I walked for years, never stopping in one place for long because of the dangers: slave operators, werewolves, vampires, even those angels can be a pain. The real danger was always the other race rather then the monsters I'd run into because the monsters didn't have a conscience or emotions, they just did what they did.
At the moment though I'm camped out on the roof (eighth floor) of a parking tower in the City, it's dirty but it's home for now because I do not trust anyone, not even myself.
"Have the fleshers caught you with your pants down before, then?" She asked, teasing him as she took her clothes and began to redress herself in the compact space the tent gave. As she pulled her shirt on the weight of everything finally settled back on her shoulders, after all, while she'd found Doug it was still the end of the world and she could lose him just as fast as he could lose her. Pulling her boots on she laced them, making sure they were tied and securely on her feet before making sure everything else was packed away in her bag and set on top of her jacket. Doug had already settled himself on the bed, one arm stretched out for her and she found herself smiling at the simple gesture. She grabbed the blanket and threw it over the both of them as she settled in beside her new companion. Her head rested on his shoulder, one arm draped over his waist before she let sleep cloud her mind. "Good night." She whispered before the sleepy fog consumed her. - It was quiet, too quiet for her place and there wasn't a furry body in her face like usual. Instead, she found herself laying again something warm and muscular. What the hell? She thought as her eyes fluttered open and rested on the person she was laying on, Who... oh. Doug, the guy she'd met last night and had hot, random sex with. Right, Doug. Rubbing her eyes she slowly sat up and looked around the tent, everything was the same as last night, no zombies were in the tent and she didn't hear anything or smell anything outside. "Doug, it's time to get up." She shook him, only to be choked by a trapped scream when Doug wasn't Doug at all but a newly turned flesher that wanted nothing more then to bite into her. "No!" She shouted, jerking forward, her chest heaving with sweat covering her hairline. Bad dream. Just a bad dream. |