Post by MORRISON CAMERON WHELAN on Jul 23, 2011 5:49:38 GMT
| [atrb=style,background-color: 000000,bTable] Morrison Cameron Whelan |
| [atrb=style,background-color: transparent,bTable] I'm Morrison Cameron Whelan, though my closest friends call me Morry I don't encourage it. I am one hundred and sixty four years old, even if most people mistake me for being about thirty, and obviously I'm a male. Only my family knew it, and some friends know that I'm a werewolf, but try to keep that information secret for now. |
personality
[/size][/right] Morrison is your typical alpha-male. He refuses to follow the whims of others and if something doesn’t go his way, he will fight until he is satisfied or until someone is hurt. Although he’s never loud (being so noisy seems unnecessary and generally idiotic), he can be very intimidating, even with that constant smile on his lips. His eyes are what scare people, they’re so clear, they seem to look like through you, and they’re always bright, even early in the morning when most people have that glazed, zombified look about them. He enjoys the company of others, but if the crowd gets too big he starts to feel claustrophobic and has to get into a smaller group. He is only comfortable in larger groups when he has been drinking, but he makes sure to restrain his consumption of alcohol since he knows himself to be an angry drunk. It is because of this that he has avoided having any drinking problem while many, many other people who live around him have succumbed to dependence on the drink.
There is slight bit of mystery that surrounds Morrison as he’s always seen with a smile on his face, half the time he doesn’t even know it’s there. He knows the world is going to hell in a hand basket, so he prefers to enjoy life as much as he can. For most, this would mean loads of sex, drugs, and booze, but all this simply clouds the mind and stops someone from being truly happy. Instead, he indulges all of his fantasies (that don’t include mind altering drugs), most of which are fairly innocent such as running naked on the beach. But sometimes his plans involve severely wounding someone or even murder. These are at least few and far between, letting him maintain a fairly decent reputation.
It's decent among everyone but vampires at least. He acts as though he accepts them, being as he's just as odd as them, but he really does despise them. If he ever has the opportunity to, he will kill a vampire, but he isn't stupid enough to attack every single one he meets. If they seem weak, or young, or sick, they won't live to see the next night's moon. To many, this may seem to drastic, but to him it's completely fair; as far as he's concerned, vampires are a plague.
Likes:
† Humor
† Biscuits
† Card games
† Being the leader
† Limited company
† His ‘job’
Hates:
† Too many people
† The sort of silence that could crush a building
† Having to follow
† Harvest moons, all orange and bloated
† Failing at his ‘job’
† Serious people
† Idiot humans
† Complete lonliness
Talents:
† Reading body language
† Deceiving the moronic
† Getting his way
† Being pushy
† Keeping a cool head
Habits:
† Laughing at inappropriate times
† Grinding his teeth
† (as a consequence of above) Chewing aspirin
† Practicing indecent exposure
† Staring way too long at things that interest him
history
[/size][/right] Morrison’s childhood seems like it had an age ago, but he still finds himself lost in nostalgia over his old home. He had a picturesque childhood, if you overlook the whole being a werewolf thing. His mother had been the one to turn him. He was never told the story of what had happened, he only understood that he'd barely been a toddler and that it left him with the smallest of scars on his forearm. And it was because of this mother that he never despised his wolf side when he discovered it; in fact he had always embraced it. Though his mother had constantly worried over him and how he would deal with being so different from the other kids, especially since they lived in Ireland, not exactly the hub of supernaturals or a place full of the calm, most accepting people in the world. Somehow, though, he managed to make it all the way to a university without anyone in the community, excepting a couple of doctors, ever finding out what he truly was. But this is where is fairly happy life stopped. He looked much younger than he actually was, even though he entered later than he should have, so he was treated like a kid by others, even the teachers, some even threatened to injure him if he didn’t leave, feeling like he didn’t deserve that sort of education yet. He found solace for a short while with his first serious girlfriend, but on their first year anniversary, they decided to make love. This shattered his life.
He’d never had the best control over his wolf side and when he got excited over the prospect of sex, he practically attacked her, holding her neck in his fists and ripping at her clothes, then skin, while she screamed and struggled against him. He continued to maim her after she had already bled to death and only snapped out of his blind attack after he realized that he was chewing on a chunk of her flesh. He should have stayed with her until someone found them, that would have been the noble thing to, but he was too afraid so he ran.
His old house hadn’t been too far away from the school, so he stayed with his parents and siblings for the next ten or so years. Again, he found solitude in the home, it seemed a place of refuge where he would never be harmed, until the day his mother died. It had just been a simple transformation, she had done this hundreds of times, but that day, for whatever reason, her heart couldn’t take the stress any longer and it gave out. They called a trusted doctor, who knew of their family secret, but he didn’t get their fast enough and she couldn’t be revived.
Morrison’s father died a few years later from old age and his eldest son was left to take care of the youngest, Davin, who was out of work, and in trouble with some ‘very bad people’. He had to take care of his brother until the very day he died, as he was never able to get fully on his own feet. By now, as far as he knew, the rest of his family was dead and he was alone.
For the next few decades years, he wasn’t sure what to do with his life and just drifted through every day, staying out of trouble. He soon heard a whisper that there were many other weres in America, specifically the east coast, and this excited him, he was looking forward to finally meeting people of his own kind and strangers that would accept him. There was a still girl in Ireland, a human, that he thought would love him and take him for who he was, but when she realized she was pregnant with his child, she had complete nervous breakdown, hysterically afraid that she would give birth to some monster, and she wanted to be as far from him as possible. He spared her the trouble of moving and left the country. He took the first flight he could to New Jersey along with most of his belongings and about 20,000 pounds, much of which he took from his prey after they were dead, if he could find their wallets.
The first wolf he met was in New Jersey, near Jamerson Falls, he only went by Iivan and he was a well connected were who quickly took Morrison under his wing to help him as a delivery boy. This gained him a very nice salary and with Iivan, he was able to rent a nice apartment in the city. He found a better life there, even among the drunks and the druggies that he had to deal with. He had a job, was making money, and gained many friends, however distant they may be. He’d found another home and he wasn’t going to let death pull this one away from him. He was even convinced by Iivan to get a small tattoo on the back of his skull to remind him of his new found happiness; a small, graphic smiley face.
Morrison was settled into his new home and was slowly learning more about his wolf side, mostly from Iivan. He started to notice a woman that frequented the bars around his apartment. She wasn’t very well dressed, her clothes always looked the worse for wear, and she drank way too much to be healthy. The woman, he later deduced was a werewolf, and by the way she hung around, talking to strange men and such, he figured that she was selling herself to get by. He felt sorry for her, and after all the help Iivan had given him, he wanted to get her back on her feet.
He figured the best way to approach her was through her work, so he set up to meet with her in a dreary motel that would remind her of what a sad state she was in. Once they were face to face for the first time, Morrison was disturbed with how out of touch with the world and how sick she seemed to be. He didn’t need to be convinced of her need for help any more than he was and immediately took her to his apartment to get her cleaned up.
He was surprised by how fast Meadhbh recovered from her alcoholism, but she couldn’t find a job so he had to support her on the money that he earned and buy the medicine for her epilepsy that she needed so desperately. She wanted to thank him for what he was doing for her, but all she had to offer was friendship, which was perfectly fine with him; he needed a close friend. They got to know each other incredibly well over the next one hundred and seven years, but that life didn't last. She was murdered by a vampire one night, for no reason at all, for fun. Morrison felt terribly responsible for her death, because she had asked to go out with him that same night, but he'd been too busy 'working'.
Mother/Father: Johanna O’Keeffe(werewolf, now deceased)/Gary Whelan (deceased)
Siblings: Three brothers; Aidan, Jonathan, and Davin (all deceased)
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role play sample |
Morrison smirked softly, glancing over at Iivan's friend, Bruno, who sat at the other man's right side. Iivan had bristled at the comment, clutching his glass tight in his hand, but he ignored the irritation he felt, not having much energy these days for confrontation. Bruno took being brushed off well, only shooting Morry a slight look of amusement before downing the contents of his shot glass. "So, anyway," the man sighed, after ordering another drink of course. "the bandages come off soon, I s'pose?"
This peaked Iivan's interest and he hazarded a small smile, pushing his cup away from him. "Should be a week, at most," his eyes shifted to the man at his left then back to the other. "there shouldn't even be any serious scars; it'll look completely natural." Seeming intrigued by this, Bruno leaned in, taking a closer look at slightly visible cut still on the wolf's face. "Will you be able to change though? It's not like it's your nose."
"We're just hoping," Iivan shrugged, pulling his glass back and draining it. "if I doesn't work, I guess we'll try again." Having been rather quiet for a time, Morrison suddenly spoke up, leaning forward with his elbows placed on the bar. "Don't worry Bruno, you'll have your boss back soon enough," he said this with a half laugh in his voice, "and if not, I can step in for him. I don't think I've been doing a half bad job in his place." Bruno shrugged in response, grinning widely and emptying what had to be his 20th shot. "Well," Morrison sighed, turning to Iivan, "we should get going, Jeena'll want to see you. She won't be happy that you've been drinking, but what can you do?"
The wolf nodded in agreement, finishing off his drink, sliding a few pound notes onto the bar and then getting to his feet to follow his friend out. Back out in the cold late-evening air, Morrison was forced to zip his jacket all the way up to his neck, but he didn't mind; he enjoyed the colder weather more than anything. Besides, it wasn't as if the car was too far off, just over the bridge in a parking garage. The two of them chatted casually on their way, mostly to stave off the topic of dealing with Iivan's health, yet once they came within sight of the bridge, Iivan stopped mid-sentence, a mischievous sort of smile creeping onto his face. "You think I could test out transforming?" he asked, voice growing a bit softer.
Morrison scoffed, frowning. "That would be awfully stupid of you; you're nose isn't even healed up. What do you need to change for anyway?" The other man glanced over at his friend for a moment, shooting him a doubtful look before shrugging and looking away. "You smell that? I'm hungry..." There were a lot of scents about, plenty of people out this time of day, even in the chill, trying to get things taken care of before the fear of vampires drove them inside their homes for the night. Though one human's smell did stand, just a bit, someone younger than most, not the youngest around, but mature enough for Iivan's liking it seemed. "You can hunt without changing," Morrison sighed, smirking. "Anyways, you can't have them here, you'll have to take them somewhere else, and good luck doing that with those bandages over your nose."
Iivan laughed shortly, stuffing his hands into his pocket and a cocky, familiar expression coming over his face. "I'll just say I got in a bad fight, killed the bugger and only got a broken nose." He winked over at his friend and ran a hand through his tousled blonde hair. "You seem to forget how smooth I am with people." Morrison gave the man an exasperated look, shaking his head. "If you wanna try, be my guest, I'll stand back and watch the master at work."
"I'm glad you recognize talent," Iivan huffed, pulling at the collar of his jacket to cover up more of his broad chest. After ruffling up his hair, he made his way toward the bridge, straight to a woman that stood near it, a near sincerely sweet smile on his lips. "Hello miss," he said to the stranger, his eyes staying trained on her face, though he secretly wished to stare straight down at her shirt. He just now realized how much taller he was and so he let himself slouch a bit, resting his weight on one hip so that he would shrink a few inches. "I don't think I've seen you around here before, and I've been around a lot," he gave her a slightly confused, slightly questioning look and held out his hand for her to shake. "Iivan's the name."
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| [atrb=style,background-color: 000000,bTable] KIRA | SEVEN YEARS | DAVID LEON |
application created by demi, inspired by you could do better from caution.
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